9-1-1 one-shots / 9-1-1 lone star/

Title: The realization

Christopher Diaz sat on the living room couch, his forehead creased in a frown that seemed too heavy for his young face. The crutches that usually accompanied his every move were propped neatly against the armrest, forgotten for the moment. His dad, Eddie, had been seeing Marisol for a few months now, and while she was nice enough, Christopher felt a tug in his chest every time he saw them together. It wasn't that he disliked her; she just wasn't Buck.

Evan "Buck" Buckley was more than just his dad's best friend; to Christopher, Buck was a hero, a confidant, and the coolest guy he knew. Buck's visits were the highlights of his days, filled with laughter, impromptu games, and the kind of understanding that made Christopher feel like he was the most important person in the room.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow through the window, Eddie brought Marisol over for dinner again. Christopher watched them from the couch, his eyes flickering between the couple and the front door, silently wishing for it to open and reveal the person he really wanted to see.

"Hey, champ," Eddie said, ruffling Christopher's hair as he passed by. "Why don't you come and help set the table?"

Christopher shook his head, his gaze unwavering from the door. "Is Buck coming?" he asked, his voice tinged with hope.

Eddie exchanged a glance with Marisol, who offered a sympathetic smile. "Not tonight, buddy. It's just us and Marisol. But we'll have a great time, I promise."

Christopher's shoulders slumped. "I wish Buck was here," he murmured, almost to himself.

The evening trudged on, with Eddie and Marisol making conversation and Christopher responding in monosyllables, his mind elsewhere. As soon as dinner was over, Christopher excused himself and retreated to his room, the sounds of laughter from the living room trailing after him like echoes of what he wished his family could be.

Later that night, after Marisol had left and Eddie had tucked him into bed, Christopher spoke up. "Dad, I like it better when it's just us and Buck. He should be the one you're with."

Eddie sat on the edge of the bed, his brow furrowed. "Buck is our friend, Christopher, a very good friend. But it's not like that between us."

Christopher's eyes were steadfast and sure. "But it should be. Buck cares about us... about you. And I know you care about him too. I want Buck to be my other dad."

Eddie's heart clenched at the earnestness in his son's voice. "You can't just decide things like that, mijo. Relationships are complicated."

Christopher's hand found Eddie's. "I don't care. I want Buck. You can't tell me otherwise."

Eddie kissed his son's forehead, a silent acknowledgment of his wishes, even if he couldn't fulfill them. "Goodnight, Christopher. I love you."

"I love you too, Dad. And Buck," Christopher added before drifting off to sleep.

In the weeks that followed, Eddie couldn't shake the conversation from his mind. He watched Buck with new eyes, noticing the way his heart seemed to skip a beat whenever Buck laughed or the way his skin tingled from a casual touch. Eddie had always pushed those feelings away, especially with Marisol in the picture, but Christopher's words echoed in his heart, unearthing desires he had long buried.

Buck, for his part, was oblivious to the turmoil he was causing. He continued to be the best friend and honorary uncle, all the while nursing a crush on Eddie that he believed was one-sided. He'd resigned himself to silent longing, convinced that Eddie's happiness with Marisol was what mattered most. But every time he looked at Christopher, he saw a reflection of his own wishful thinking—a family that could have been his, if only the stars aligned differently.