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Eddie had made a mistake. A huge, embarrassing mistake – but Buck had come over when he knew Chris was out with his friends, and Buck had asked if Eddie wanted to do something, and – look. Eddie was as powerless to say no to Buck as he was to say no to Christopher when he wanted something. And now they were here, in the parking lot of an indoor ice skating rink in the middle of fucking July, and Eddie was wondering just how stupid one miserable, lovesick man could be.
“Ice skating,” Eddie said, tonelessly, still not moving from the passenger seat of Buck’s Jeep.
“I did tell you where we were going,” Buck replied, arching an eyebrow at him across the center console.
“It’s the middle of summer,” Eddie said back. Buck just stared at him. “Global warming?” Eddie tried again, nonsensically.
Buck snorted. “Come on, Eddie, I haven’t skated in forever.” Eddie knew this, knew that Buck did actually want to go skating. He also knew that Buck had been coming over for months now, specifically when Christopher was out with his friends, and Eddie was moping around the house alone. He came over, and he dragged Eddie out of the house with the excuse of something or another that he had just been dying to do. Just as often, Buck came over and tagged along with Eddie on errands, and they ended up back at Eddie’s house. They would cook together, or work on a house project that Eddie had been putting off, or just fold laundry. All of it left Eddie feeling grounded and wanting, a combination confusing in its opposition; but he had long become accustomed to feeling that way around Buck.
Eddie groaned as he got out of the car, mostly for show, and Buck laughed like Eddie hoped he would. Buck reached into the backseat.
“I can’t believe you have your own skates,” Eddie said.
“I played hockey in highschool,” Buck replied, and Eddie knew this. Knew this because Buck had told him once, years ago; knew this because once he had learned this, he had an unfortunate habit of imagining Buck rushing down the ice in full-kit, a habit he refused to investigate further.
Once they made their way inside, Eddie’s acquired pair of rented skates in hand, they sat down on a mottled rubber bench to lace up. Buck was next to him, close as always, and their elbows brushed and bumped in a way that would annoy Eddie if it were anyone else. He watched from his periphery as Buck laced his skates so quickly his vision seemed to blur, his own movements sure but slow.
“You’ve been skating before, right?” Buck asked, his voice almost hushed. Eddie knew exactly what he was thinking; Buck was worried that he had pushed Eddie into something he didn’t want to do, and was just now realizing it. Eddie pushed his shoulder into Buck’s chest, which was now turned towards him, and huffed out an amused breath. He could feel Buck relaxing next to him – Buck knew him just as well, afterall.
“I actually don’t know how to skate,” Eddie admitted. He could feel more than he could see Buck’s soft smile.
“I guess I’ll just have to teach you, then.”
“Guess so.”
Eddie finished tying his lace, and turned to stare at Buck, an eyebrow raised in silent question. Buck smiled, sure and confident.
“Okay, well, first things first, you’re gonna want to stand up.”
“That sounds easy, but I’m standing on two knives.”
“Keep your knees bent slightly,” Buck said, “and go slow. Easy like.”
“Do not talk to me like I’m a horse,” Eddie said, and Buck laughed brightly. They were the only people in the rink, midday on a Tuesday, and the light sound of it bounced around the ice. Eddie stood, finding his balance easily on the matted floor.
“You do kind of look like a colt, taking its first steps,” Buck said, biting his lip around a smile. Eddie shot him a pointed glare. “No, no, seriously, you’re doing exactly what you’re supposed to do. Okay, now keep your knees bent and take some tiny steps.” Buck had migrated to stand before Eddie, looking like he was ready to catch him at any fumble. Eddie managed a few steps, and Buck beamed at him like he had done something altogether more wondrous than he actually had.
They reached the wall of the rink, and Buck swung open the gate to the ice.
“Okay, you just want to keep doing the same thing,” he explained as he stepped backwards onto the ice, easy as anything. Eddie grasped the low wall with one hand, and stepped tentatively onto the ice, one foot after the other.
“That’s good,” Buck said, nodding, and Eddie watched him slip easily into the serious and kind version of himself that Eddie usually saw when Buck was teaching Christopher how to do something new. He felt something glowing solidify in his chest.
“Okay, now just do the same thing, take tiny steps. Here,” he offered, holding his hands out to Eddie. Eddie took them gratefully, his hands grasping firmly around Eddie’s wrists. It was a familiar hold; a strong one. One that they had shared in other, somewhat more life-threatening situations. Eddie grasped his wrists back, feeling Buck’s pulse beat beneath his thumbs. He took tiny step after tiny step, Buck moving slowly and easily ahead of him. Buck watched Eddie’s feet in concentration, and Eddie wanted to tell him, suddenly, how beautiful he looked with that tiny line creased between his eyebrows.
“You’ve got it,” Buck said after a minute, “now just point your toes out a little bit, there. You’ve got it. And you just push backwards with your foot a bit, out to the side. Perfect, you got it.” Eddie almost flushed with the praise as he made tiny sweeps with his feet, the momentum pushing them forward. After a few glides that felt pretty steady, Buck let go of Eddie’s arms. Almost immediately, Eddie started to wobble, and felt himself tilt too far forward. He was still moving, and could feel the horrible sensation of not being able to right himself as he fell flat on his face.
Nothing was hurt, except for his pride, and he used his hands to push himself over until he was sitting on the ice. Buck offered him a hand.
“I should have taught you how to fall, first,” Buck said, and he sounded chagrined, “it’s inevitable.”
“You’re inevitable,” Eddie said while grabbing his hand, and something shivered across Buck’s expression. Eddie grabbed Buck’s proffered hand, and, so tired of waiting, pulled Buck down, hard, forcing him to fall onto the ice next to him.
“Eddie!” Buck sputtered. He flipped himself over so they were both sitting on the ice. “You jerk.” They both started laughing, helpless, leaning into each other.
“Hey,” Eddie said, once he had caught his breath, “thanks for taking me here. I like learning things with you.” He risked a glance to Buck, who was a little flushed and ducking his head with a smile.
“Yeah?”
Eddie chuckled, and felt the exact way he did the first time Buck had smiled at him like this, the first time he had asked him that question – like he had won something precious, like he had found a key that fit a tiny lock within himself. “Yeah,” he said, and pushed their shoulders together. Buck rose to his feet, and bent over at his waist, offering his arms to Eddie.
“Okay, this time, do not pull me down, you monster. Just wrap your arms around me and I’ll help you up.” Eddie did as instructed, and Buck helped him up, lifting most of Eddie’s weight. Eddie absolutely didn’t linger on the fact that Buck could carry his weight so easily. Once righted, they stared at each other for a beat.
“Ready to try again?” Buck asked, and in that question, Eddie felt an answer he’d been holding back tumble off his tongue.
“With you? Yeah.”
Buck smiled, bright as sun refracted off a newly frozen pond. He offered a hand to Eddie, and as Eddie slipped his fingers into Buck’s, he couldn’t help but feel the changing of seasons, hope like the flirting figures of fish still swimming under ice, ready for the new spring.