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“Don’t say it.”
”Say what?” Buck asked, all innocence.
“I know you want to say ‘I told you so,’” Eddie grumbled, “but I absolutely cannot deal with that right now.”
“I would never kick you while you’re down, Edmundo.”
Buck smiled sweetly; Eddie glared back. Eddie watched as Buck’s gaze turned to look out of the window at the flurry of drifting white flakes that were currently wrapping them into a frozen cocoon. He watched as Buck snuggled deeper into the driver’s seat, watched as he pulled the thick woolen blanket that he had had the foresight to bring higher around his shoulders. Buck ducked his head down into the blanket’s folds, looking like the world’s most adorable turtle. Eddie shook his head for a moment, trying to dislodge the thought.
“Seriously,” Eddie said, “how did you know we were going to get stuck in a snowstorm?”
“I didn’t know,” Buck scoffed, “I just know, from my vast amount of life experience, that you should always be prepared.”
“Okay, Boy Scout,” Eddie laughed.
“I would have been the best Boy Scout,” Buck sniffed. He reached into the box of supplies that he had insisted they bring on their road trip, much to Eddie’s earlier teasing and to present Eddie’s grateful chagrin. He tossed a bag of beef jerky into Eddie’s (also blanketed) lap. ”And I know how pissy you get when you’re hungry.”
“I do not get hangry,” Eddie replied, feigning offence, knowing full-well just how much of a lie that was. Buck snorted.
They fell into an easy silence, both looking out through the sheets of quickly falling snow, watching the trees and road disappear into a world of frothy snow. If Eddie were being honest with himself, he would probably be panicking if it were not for the man sitting next to him. This was often true, he knew — but more so now than ever.
They were at the start of a weekend trip to Mt. Whitney and Death Valley — both the highest and lowest points in California, respectively. Buck found the fact that those two points were only about 100 miles away from each other absolutely fascinating, and insisted they visit both in the span of a 72 off. Eddie found Buck fascinating while he regaled Eddie with facts about something called alluvial fans, and agreed to go wherever Buck wanted to.
This had included going somewhat out of their way to drive through Tehachapi Pass, which as far as Eddie could see, was because it was the name of a song that Buck had been playing on repeat. Buck was going through a phase of listening to “country that isn’t racist or weirdly patriotic or misogynistic.” Eddie was going through a phase of falling more in love with his best friend, which was annoying.
And this was, of course, where an unseasonably early snow storm had hit, which was only slightly more inconvenient than the fact that Eddie had recently come to the conclusion that he was stupidly and embarrassingly in love with Buck.
“Thanks for packing the box of emergency supplies, Buck,” Eddie said, breaking the silence and attempting to change the topic of conversation that his brain had taken. This rarely worked. He probably just wanted to hear Buck talk again. His brain was a masochistic asshole, most of the time.
Buck smiled at Eddie a little too fondly. Eddie’s heart beat a little too hard in response.
“I’ve never actually had to use the emergency what-if-my-car-gets-stuck-in-a-snowstorm box before,” Buck admitted, “but I think I’ll always have to have it now.”
“It’s worth it just for the snacks,” Eddie agreed. He paused for a moment before saying, “I’m actually kind of glad Chris isn’t here for this trip.”
Buck stared at him for a moment — Eddie had been recalcitrant about bringing up Chris much since he had been in Texas, the wound always reopening. Buck hadn’t asked much, ever aware of Eddie’s unasked-for requests. Abruptly, he started laughing.
“I can’t believe you just said that.”
Eddie pinked, pleased to elicit the laughter. “I mean. He’d be so annoying right now.”
“Eddie!” Buck said, delightfully reproachful. “I’m going to tell him you said that.”
Eddie pointed at Buck. “Don’t you dare, Buckley. I will deny it to my grave.”
“You know he’ll believe me,” Buck said, still shaking with the last of his laughter.
“I know he would,” Eddie said, and felt something heavy and warm settle in his gut, as it often did when presented with the way that his son loved Buck.
“So,” Buck ventured, “have you heard from Chris lately?”
“You know I have,” Eddie said as he swatted Buck’s shoulder. “Did you tell him about this ill-fated trip?”
Buck swatted him right back. “You know I did,” he parroted, “besides, he said it sounded cool.”
“That’s because he still thinks everything you do is cool.”
“So do you!”
Eddie put on a thoughtful expression and moved his hand in a so-so wave. ”Cool? I don’t know. I might call everything you do ‘dorky.’”
“That’s rich, coming from the guy who spent the last 48 hour shift researching how to grow heirloom tomatoes.”
“And for that? You’re never going to get to try my Brandywine or my Green Zebras.”
Buck was snorting with laughter before Eddie finished his sentence; he couldn’t help but to join in.
“That’s a lie anyways, Eddie,” Buck said, a little breathless, “because you’re going to be begging me to put them in a pasta sauce for you.” He pointed at Eddie, excitedly, “you’ll literally eat your words!” And dissolved back into helpless giggles.
“You are such a dork,” Eddie said, and god. He loved him so much.
Buck had pulled out his phone. “Did you know,” he asked, “that there’s a tomato variety called ‘striped cavern’?”
Eddie laughed so hard his stomach hurt.
+++
At some point, Eddie nodded off. He blinked awake, sometime later, his eyes already focused on Buck. He was looking at his phone.
“Hey,” he said, his voice a little scratchy from disuse. “Shouldn’t you save your battery?”
Buck had looked up at Eddie’s voice, but he waved him off. “Nah, Maddie said the crews should be up here pretty soon. Besides, I packed an extra external battery in the box.”
“You really think of everything, huh?”
“Well,” Buck replied, “it was pretty lucky that we still got service up here to call for help. I didn’t pack a satellite phone. Next time!”
“I love you,” Eddie said, and. Fuck. It echoed in the sudden stillness like a tree trunk popping in the deepest cold of winter. Eddie felt the wave of molten panic and fear overtake him; he felt like jello, and not in a good way. He couldn’t look at Buck — the utter silence in the car was too much.
“I’m sorry,” Eddie started, staring painfully hard at the windshield, “I mean. I’m not sorry — I didn’t mean to tell you this way or, like, at all. Oh, god,” he ended, under his breath, “what the fuck.”
“You. Love me?” Buck asked, his voice very quiet, for Buck. It hung in the still air of the chilly car.
“Yes. And I know you’re with Tommy, and I know you’re happy, and I’m really not trying to be an asshole here. I just — I don’t know. It just came out. I didn’t mean to say it now.”
Buck was quiet; Eddie ventured a glance at him. He was staring out the window again, his mouth a little open. Eddie felt something a little like hope, a little like bravery.
“I’m sorry,” he went on, “that I didn’t figure this out until you came out. That would’ve made this a lot easier.”
“Which part?” Buck asked, a little strangled.
“Well,” Eddie continued, “if I had figured it out before then, I don’t think you’d have a boyfriend. At least, not one I’d have to worry about.”
Buck sucked in a breath. “You’re awfully cocky.”
“Buck,” Eddie offered, gently. “I could be wrong, I know I could be. But I don’t think I am. I’ve had best friends before, bud. It was never like this.”
Buck looked at him, finally, eyes wide, a little hunted.
“I wouldn’t do this,” Eddie gestured around the car, blanketed in white snow drifts, “for anyone else. Just so you know.”
Buck’s shoulders dropped an inch, he let out a breath like he’d been punched.
“I really wish you figured this out sooner, Eddie.”
“I really wish that you figured this out before you broke my tibia on a basketball court,” Eddie countered.
“I can’t believe I thought I was jealous of Tommy’s attention,” Buck muttered. Eddie heard something loud and ringing; felt something akin to being a bell, struck.
“Ravi told me you had a basketball shipped to the station?” Eddie asked, all innocence.
“I’m going to fucking kill him,” Buck said, vehemently. Finally, he turned to Eddie. “I’m not going to cheat on him, Eddie. Not again.”
“Buck,” Eddie soothed, “you know I’m not asking you to do that. I’m not asking you for anything you don’t want.”
“I want,” Buck said, simply. Eddie was a goner. They stared at each other, and Eddie let himself look. Let himself catalogue all the things he knew by heart, let himself tally them in a list of honesty: a list of things that he might soon be able to touch. Blonde hair, curly and loose. Blue eyes, searching. A birthmark, pink as his lips.
Eddie was used to waiting, for the things he wanted. Wartime would do that to a person. And while he was used to having the things he wanted at a distance, he was unused to this certainty — the kind currently warming him from the inside-out. He knew, with a kind of calm confidence, that Christopher would come back. He knew, just as sure, that Buck loved him.
Eddie’s thoughts were interrupted by flashing yellow lights entering his periphery. He cleared his throat.
“Looks like the tow truck is here,” he said. Buck jerked slightly, like he was waking from a dream.
Buck moved, putting his hand on the door handle, before turning back.
“Can we talk more about this later?”
“We can talk about anything, whenever you want,” Eddie answered, easy. Buck sucked in a quick breath, nodding to himself like he’d come to some decision. Eddie paused before he got out to follow him.
Eddie didn’t know when Chris would come back home. He didn’t know the exact shape of the future; he didn’t know how Buck would navigate the next few days. All Eddie knew was that Chris would come home, and eventually, Buck would too. Eddie was patient; he would wait.