you don't impose (how bout you stay forever?)

"My son," Eddie finally says, dragging Buck out of his mind, "I'm trying to reach my son."

He shows Buck a picture so darn cute of a little boy - the son - on Eddie's back. They're standing all smiling next to an older woman. If Buck had ovaries, they'd most likely explode at the sight. "No way!" he yells over the sirens of the truck, "You've got a kid? I love kid!"

Eddie nods. "Christopher. He's seven, he's all I have," he adds, brows meeting as he looks down again to the picture. "His mother's not in the picture."

Buck's stomach churns painfully. He's met plenty of single parents since he became a dad, but most of the time, it's a mom whose baby daddy ran away, not the other way around. We don't often hear about mothers abandoning the nest. For the past three years, Buck has felt very alone in all this.

He pulls his phone out, handing it to Eddie, "Mine's three," he says, crunching his nose with a smile, "It's just us." He then adds, tilting his head so his eyes can meet Eddie's more easily.

or : what if Buck and Eddie met the exact same way except Buck had a three years old daughter ?