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“Hey, Buck,” Chris says as he enters the kitchen.
Buck looks up from where he’s stirring something on the stove. “Hey, bud,” he says. “What are you up to?”
“Nothing much,” Chris leans against the counter, glancing into the pot.
It’s not untrue. He’s not really doing anything. But he is up to something.
His dad walks in the doorway just then, his work bag slung over his shoulder and exhaustion on his face that can only be a product of the 48-hour shift he just got off of. “I’m home,” he says. “What smells good?”
“I’m making dinner,” Buck says. “Here, try some to see if it’s ready.” He spears a piece of pasta with a fork and pulls it from the pot, holding it up.
“Maybe a couple more minutes,” Dad says as he chews. “What kind of sauce? Pesto?”
“You know it is, asshole,” Buck replies. “I texted you earlier about it.”
Dad smiles. “I’ve been caught.” Then he leans forward to press a kiss to Buck’s cheek. “Missed you today,” he whispers, but he's a worse whisperer than he thinks.
“Ew,” Chris says flatly. “Gross. Ew.”
“Christopher,” Dad says in his I’m-tired-of-this voice.
“What?” He asks, feigning innocence. Dad shoots him a look but still ruffles Chris’s hair on his way to the bedroom that he shares with Buck.
The bedroom-sharing is a new thing, just like the cheek-kissing and saying “I missed you” is a new thing. Chris doesn’t want to take the credit, but he also definitely does. As soon as he and his dad came back home, Chris told him that he had to tell Buck how much he meant to him.
(His dad had acted confused at first, but that quickly went away when they walked through the door of the house and saw the banner Buck had hung and the balloons he had blown up. It was just a party for the three of them, to celebrate their return.
Chris’s dad told him to close his eyes before he planted his lips on Buck's.)
By the time they’re all at the table, Buck spooning pasta into three separate bowls, Chris is ready to set his plan into motion.
He pulls his phone out and props it just above the edge of the table, so his dad and Buck are in the frame, and then says, “Wow, I’m so hungry.”
“Just blow on the pasta to cool it off, buddy,” Buck says, oblivious. His Dad makes a noise of assent and takes a sip of water.
“No, I’m like so hungry,” Chris says. “I’m so hungry I could eat anything."
"We had lunch four hours ago," Buck says.
"I know," Chris says, twirling his fork in the pasta. "But I'm just hungry. I'm so hungry I could probably eat Taylor Kelly right now.”
Dad’s head whips up, and Buck’s food stops halfway to his mouth.
“Taylor Kelly?” Buck asks, mouth hanging open.
“Yeah. I’m just starving.”
Dad blinks. Buck looks like he's questioning every decision he's ever made that led him to this exact moment.
“Chris, what-?” Buck begins, but Chris’s dad cuts him off.
“That name is banned in this house,” he says.
“Eddie!”
“Sorry, amor,” Dad says, sounding unapologetic. “She was the worst.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Buck says, but he tugs Dad in and murmurs something in his ear that makes him grin.
“Not in front of Chris,” he says, and Chris immediately ends the video out of disgust.
“Guys, seriously? You can’t be normal for like, two minutes?”
“Nope!” They say in unison.
Chris posts the video after dinner. It goes viral, because of course it does. There’s thousands of comments, half of which are just calling Buck and Dad hot, the other half saying how funny the video is.
There’s a small handful that say, “Your dads are so cute together”, which Chris taps the heart beside. He may call them gross, but they are his dads, after all.