Archive of Our Own

Buck always said that hiking with Eddie was like breathing easier —well, thought it, because if he ever dared say it out loud, Eddie would probably give him that squinty, suspicious look he saved for moments when emotions got too close for comfort. 

Still, the idea clung to Buck like the sun clung to his skin: being out there with Eddie felt like letting his lungs expand for the first time after weeks underwater.

Eddie, on the other hand, pretended he had no idea why he always said yes. 

He liked to claim it was habit, or the simple need to spend time with his best friend, or the fact that Buck was basically a human golden retriever begging for enrichment activities. 

But deep down —buried somewhere between his neatly folded shirts and all the feelings he refused to unpack— he knew the truth. He was far too attached, far too lost, far too in love with Buck to deny himself any chance to be near him. 

Saying no to Buck felt like refusing sunlight.

That morning, on a long-awaited day off, Buck showed up at his door wearing the kind of smile that should come with a warning label. 

He had on hiking shorts, a long-sleeved shirt, a backpack slung over one shoulder, and eyes that practically sparkled with mischief — a classic “I already made a plan and you’re coming” energy.

“Found a new route,” he announced, shaking his phone like it was the staff of Moses, then walked right in, tossed his bag on the floor, and collapsed dramatically on Eddie’s couch.

Eddie stood there for a beat, taking him in —partly appreciating how Buck somehow made hiking shorts look illegal, partly checking for signs this was a prank. 

Finding none, he sighed and plopped down beside him, their shoulders brushing, their legs nearly aligned. Every accidental touch sent a tiny spark through Eddie —not big enough to panic, just enough to annoy him with how much he liked it.

“Another one?” he asked, letting his head fall back against the couch. “The last route left us limping for three days. I thought we agreed to pretend that never happened.”

Buck lit up like that was a compliment. 

“Yeah, but this one was recommended by someone on a Reddit hiking thread.” He unlocked his phone and proudly showed Eddie a screenshot of a stranger’s comment and a picture of what looked like a very suspicious path. “The user’s name is ‘AReallyTrustingGuy.’ The name says it all —it’s probably amazing.”

Eddie blinked at him. 

“Buck, that sounds like how documentaries about missing hikers start. We’re either getting scammed, kidnapped, or waking up in a bathtub full of ice.”

Buck shoved his phone into his shorts pocket with all the confidence of a man who had never seen a true-crime show in his life —even when he listened true-crime podcast all the time. 

“It sounds like an adventure,” he corrected, grinning so wide he practically radiated joy. “Plus, I promise we won’t end up chasing a colony of raccoons this time. And we’ll be back in time to make dinner.”

Eddie couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped him —the kind that only came out when Buck looked utterly relaxed, as if the world couldn’t touch him. 

“Okay,” he said between chuckles, then nudged Buck’s fist with his own, a small touch that lingered just a second longer than necessary. “But if we lose a kidney, you’re the one explaining that to Bobby.”

“Deal,” Buck said, laughing as he bumped fists back, eyes soft in a way Eddie pretended not to notice.

The couch suddenly felt dangerous —too comfortable, too close— so Eddie pushed himself up before he could sink deeper into the warmth of Buck’s presence. 

Buck stood with him immediately, as if attached by some invisible string, and began helping organize Eddie’s backpack with all the efficiency of someone who had definitely overprepared.

Eddie grabbed his gear, heading toward his room to change, and Buck trailed after him with that eager bounce in his step. 

It was ridiculous, Eddie thought as he glanced over his shoulder —ridiculous how easy it was to follow Buck anywhere, even into the dumbest, most suspiciously sourced adventures.

And even more ridiculous how much he loved it.

At first, the path was a postcard come to life —soft earth, clear signs, sunlight filtering through the trees like it was trying to show off. 

Eddie approved with the cautious, almost suspicious nod of a man who had learned the universe liked to ambush him the moment he relaxed. 

Buck, meanwhile, walked with the lighthearted confidence of someone who wholeheartedly believed the world would never betray him, because why would it? He smiled too much for that.

They kept a steady rhythm, steps falling into sync without effort. They talked in little bursts —updates about Chris, anecdotes from the station, the dumb joke Ravi told at shift change— but most of the time, silence wrapped around them. 

Not the tense kind. Not the awkward kind. 

The warm, heavy kind that only existed between people who knew each other’s shadows as well as their light.

Maybe it was because it was just the two of them. 

Maybe it was because every glance filled in what words didn’t dare say. 

Eddie didn’t need to talk to feel Buck’s presence; it hummed behind him —steady, reassuring, like Buck himself was some internal compass he never remembered picking up but always used.

Eddie walked ahead, scanning the terrain. He wasn’t consciously showing off, but Buck —one step behind, always matching his pace— watched him with the soft fascination of a man trying very hard not to look too fascinated.

He noticed everything: how Eddie’s shoulders moved when he tightened the straps of his backpack, how he slowed down at tricky spots so Buck wouldn’t stumble, how he walked like he expected the earth to shift but trusted his own footing anyway.

Buck sometimes wondered if Eddie understood how easy he made it to follow him. How natural it felt. How much Buck wanted to keep doing it—forever, if life allowed.

But the trail, as always, sensed their moment and chose violence.

First, the markers vanished. Straight-up gone. 

Eddie slowed, glancing back at Buck, who was busy admiring the view like he was posing for a nature documentary. Eddie resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Then the path split into three. None looked trustworthy; all looked like they led to someone’s regrettable headline.

Buck shrugged, entirely too calm, and pulled out his phone. 

“No big deal,” he said —right before the GPS decided to stop being useful and start being existential. The little dot danced, spun, trembled, and ultimately collapsed in confusion.

So they chose the left path the responsible way: with Buck doing a very serious, very scientific eeny, meeny, miny, moe.

The path got rougher. Uneven. Then inconsistent. Then straight-up imaginary.

Before long, the two of them were standing among trees and a stunning, sweeping view of absolutely nowhere.

Lost. Fully and stupidly lost.

They both paused. Eddie turned to Buck with an expression that could only be described as Of course —equal parts tired, entertained, and something softer, like he was silently saying ‘At least I’m lost with you.’

“Well… this wasn’t in the description,” Buck muttered, pulling up the screenshot again, fighting the phone like it had wronged him intentionally.

“What exactly did the description say?” Eddie asked, crossing his arms.

Buck scrolled through the text. 

“Uh… medium-intensity trail, beautiful scenery…” he muttered.

“And?” Eddie pressed, eyes narrowing. He knew that tone —knew Buck was hiding something.

Buck cleared his throat. 

“And… low probability of dying,” he whispered, then looked up through his eyelashes like a kid who’d eaten the last cookie and wanted praise anyway.

Eddie stared. 

“Low probability,” he repeated slowly. “And you saw that and thought, ‘Hey, perfect for a day off’?”

“It said low,” Buck defended, holding up a finger. “Low! That’s basically a compliment!”

Eddie snorted, fighting a laugh. “Buck, if someone rated a restaurant ‘low probability of food poisoning,’ would you go?”

Buck stuck his tongue out, tragically adorable. 

“You’re being dramatic. Also, the post really should’ve included ‘High Probability of Getting Lost.’ Just saying.”

Eddie laughed —really laughed— and Buck basked in it like he’d earned an achievement badge.

They exchanged a look, the kind that said okay, time to be adults—which usually meant pretending to be adults until the universe corrected them.

They climbed a small hill. Nothing.

They went down. Nothing.

They turned in a circle. Nothing but trees, sky, and an unsettlingly enthusiastic squirrel.

“Great,” Eddie sighed, dragging both hands over his face. “We’re officially screwed.”

Buck took a deep breath, desperately trying to summon the hero mode that usually saved them. 

“Okay, okay, this is easily fixed. No need to panic,” he muttered —mostly to himself— while tapping at the useless GPS.

“I’m not panicking,” Eddie said, bumping Buck lightly.

Buck shot him a look. “Your eyebrows are panicking,” he said, reaching out to smooth Eddie’s furrow without thinking.

Eddie froze —jaw tight, heart sprinting in his chest. He let it happen, staring at the trees like they had personally offended him. 

Buck smiled softly, because even lost, even flustered, Eddie felt like home.

“East,” Eddie finally said. “Let’s head east. Straight line. Eventually we’ll hit something.”

“Perfect,” Buck agreed, standing a little closer than necessary.

And so they walked —side by side, lost but strangely at peace— because getting lost together had started to feel a little bit like finding something else entirely.

The conversation flowed more easily this time —not because the silence had ever been awkward between them, but because neither of them trusted themselves with a silence that deep. 

Not today. 

Not when their hearts felt like overfilled cups —steady hands, trembling edges. 

So they joked. They teased. They clung to humor like it was rope keeping them from falling into the chasm of everything they hadn’t said for years.

But jokes run out eventually.

Buck threw out random facts with the enthusiasm of someone trying to distract a toddler. 

Eddie teased him about his terrible survival instincts on the internet —“Honestly, Buck, the miracle isn’t that you survived dating apps, it’s that you survived Reddit”— and Buck managed to laugh, but only once, maybe twice.

Then the silence slipped back between them, thicker than the vines curling around tree trunks. Tangled. Heavy. Teetering toward confession.

And that’s exactly when the truth began to push its way up —wild, restless, unruly.

Buck drifted closer, until he was walking right beside Eddie. Their arms brushed. His shoulder bumped Eddie’s, warm and tentative. 

“Hey… I’m sorry about this,” he murmured, fingers tightening around the straps of his backpack like he needed something solid to hold onto. 

His voice wavered, just a hairline crack, the kind only Eddie would notice.

“What’s this?” Eddie asked gently, but Buck kept his eyes on the dirt, kicking at a rock like it had personally offended him.

“This whole thing. Always dragging you into my ridiculous ideas,” he whispered, and Eddie felt the hitch in his breath like a tug at his own heart.

Buck’s guilt was loud —louder than his footsteps, louder than his words, louder even than the wind shifting the leaves.

Eddie nudged Buck’s shoulder with his own, an attempt to soften the moment. 

“You never drag me into anything,” he said, drifting closer still, their arms brushing with every step. “I go because I want to.”

Buck huffed out a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head like Eddie had just declared gravity optional. 

“Sure. Because you definitely wanted to be at home in your pajamas, and I dragged you out here anyway.”

Eddie stumbled at that —because, yes, part of him had wanted to be home in pajamas. But he wanted to be here more. Always. 

Before he could steady himself, Buck’s hand reached instinctively to the small of his back, steady and warm, igniting every electric wire in Eddie’s spine.

Eddie swallowed hard. That touch burned with too many truths.

In his mind, a dozen thoughts collided: the urge to shield Buck from every abandonment that carved him, the need to rewrite every lie Buck believed about being a burden, the fierce devotion that had grown roots so deep Eddie no longer knew where it ended or where he began.

“You’re wrong,” Eddie murmured, breathing in slowly —gathering the courage he’d been avoiding for years. “If I didn’t want to be here with you, Buck, I wouldn’t be.”

And then came a different kind of silence. Not sharp. Not cold. Just… electric.

Eddie felt suddenly exposed, like he’d peeled off armor without thinking. Did he say too much? Was it too obvious? Too honest?

Buck let out a small, choked sound before swallowing thickly. He kept walking, but his movements grew awkward, like his limbs were too full of emotion to coordinate.

“So… you do want to?” Buck asked, voice soft, tentative, painfully vulnerable —like a child checking whether the nightlight was still on.

Eddie smiled, a small crooked thing, looking ahead to keep his heart from bursting through his ribs. He formed the words carefully, shaping them like something precious.

Buck waited. Seconds stretched. 

Eddie forgot the question for a moment —lost in thoughts of what this could mean, what doors it opened, what terrors and joys it woke up inside him.

“What?” Eddie finally asked, his voice quieter than the breeze, as if too much volume would shatter the moment.

Buck rolled his eyes —a soft, affectionate gesture. 

“Being here,” he repeated, but this time his voice cracked openly. “With me.”

“Yes,” Eddie answered instantly. And the world seemed to still. He glanced at Buck —really looked at him. “With you. Always.”

Buck froze mid-step. Eddie stopped too. 

For a second, they stood facing each other on uneven ground, but something about it felt solid —like the earth had finally caught up with what their hearts knew.

“Eddie…?” Buck started, nerves tightening every syllable. “Can I ask you something without you throwing me off a cliff?”

Eddie leaned in with a whisper, “Depends on the cliff.” 

Their soft laugh blended, cracking the tension just enough for breath to return.

Buck inhaled deeply. 

“Why do you say things that sound like… more?” He kept his gaze lowered, afraid he’d lose the nerve if he looked at Eddie directly. “Like you mean something else."

Eddie let out a quiet laugh —not mocking, just tired. Tired of hiding. 

“Because I do mean something else.”

Buck’s heart lodged itself somewhere high in his chest, thumping so loud he wondered if Eddie could hear it echo in the stillness.

“What else?” Buck asked, and it wasn’t curiosity anymore. It was need. Desperate, earnest need.

Eddie ran a hand through his hair, closing his eyes for a beat. Enough avoiding. Enough pretending. 

“That I care about you too much,” he said, voice trembling in all the ways his body didn’t. He met Buck’s gaze, steady now, unwavering. “More than I should. And every time we do this —walk, talk, chase off birds you provoke— I feel like I’m stepping into territory I never want to leave.”

Buck stared at him, breath caught, lips parted. 

Eddie watched the truth ripple over Buck’s face —shock, fear, hope, then something deeper, warmer.

“Eddie…” Buck breathed. His name wasn’t a word —it was an exhale, a prayer, a surrender. 

Eddie’s heart clenched, because that tone could mean everything. Or nothing. Or both.

“I know,” Eddie said softly, lowering his head, sniffing once. “It’s complicated. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

But Buck stepped forward —small, sure— and reached out, fingers brushing Eddie’s forearm in a tender, deliberate touch. Eddie looked up instantly.

“I do want to,” Buck said. His voice shook. His heart didn’t.

“Talk about it?” Eddie asked.

Buck laughed breathlessly. 

“That too,” he murmured, his thumb tracing slow circles. “But this —us. Because I’m going through the same thing. For… a long time.”

Eddie tilted his head, warmth blossoming in his chest. “How long?”

Buck swallowed, then said, “Since you let me drive you to get Chris after the earthquake. Since I watched you hold him and realized… you were the safest place I’d ever seen.”

Eddie stared, stunned, before a laugh —disbelieving, emotional— broke free. 

“Buck…”

“I mean it,” Buck whispered, all the years of quiet longing finally turning into one clear truth. “I love you. Not just as a friend. Well —yes, as a friend too. But more.”

And Eddie felt it hit him —like the moment the final puzzle piece clicks into place. 

His eyes burned, and he reached for Buck’s hand, stopping the soft strokes on his arm only to intertwine their fingers properly.

“So we’re lost in two ways,” Eddie murmured, voice returning to a playful warmth that vibrated through both of them.

Buck laughed —a deep, joyous sound that echoed between the trees. 

“Yeah, but I think being lost in you might be the better option.”

Eddie squeezed his hand. Held it tight. Didn’t let go.

“Come on,” he whispered, smiling so softly it lit Buck from within. “Let’s find our way out.”

Buck nodded, fingers locked with Eddie’s, heart suddenly unburdened.

And together, they walked —less lost than they’d ever been.

They continued walking —or what they optimistically believed qualified as walking— through a stretch of wilderness that looked less like a trail and more like Mother Nature shrugging her shoulders. 

Their fingers remained loosely intertwined, swinging between them with the lazy confidence of two people who absolutely should know better by now, and yet somehow never did.

Buck kept glancing at Eddie with that soft, lopsided grin that always made Eddie's heart feel like a shaken soda can. 

Eddie pretended not to notice, which of course meant he noticed everything: the warmth in Buck’s palm, the way his thumb kept brushing gentle circles as if completely on purpose, and the tiny victorious smile Buck wore every time their shoulders bumped.

But the road —the actual road— stubbornly refused to exist, and the sun had begun sinking, painting everything gold in that annoyingly romantic way that made Eddie’s brain trip over itself. 

Eventually he stopped, tugging Buck’s hand until they faced each other.

“I’m going to call 911,” Eddie murmured, voice soft but determined.

Buck’s eyes widened. He squeezed Eddie’s hand as if trying to keep him tethered.

“No,” he pleaded, already reaching for his phone as if he could undo the situation with sheer blond optimism. “Maddie’s going to laugh until we’re retired and using senior discounts. And the station —Eddie, they’ll never let this go. We can figure it out.”

Eddie let out a small, warm laugh.

“Just think —Christopher’s waiting for us to show up for dinner,” he reminded him gently.

Buck sighed, resigned. Christopher trumped everything. Always.

But then Eddie’s stomach decided to get involved, growling so loudly it echoed through the trees like an offended bear.

“Besides,” Eddie added with a grimace, “I think I’d rather face Maddie’s laugh than spend the night out here without food.”

Buck’s grin turned mischievous —dangerously so. Eddie immediately regretted opening his mouth.

“You can always eat me,” Buck said with theatrical innocence.

Eddie shoved him lightly, laughter bursting out of him.

“You’re delusional,” he said, though the fondness in his voice practically dripped.

Their laughter drifted through the trees, warm and stupid and perfect. 

Eddie finally pulled out his phone, sighing dramatically at the nonexistent signal —because why wouldn’t the forest conspire against him?— but dialing the emergency number anyway.

The call connected with a soft beep.

“911, what is your emergency?”

The voice was familiar enough that Eddie’s entire body flooded with relief. He threw the phone on speaker.

“Maddie, um… it’s us,” Eddie admitted, with the dignity of a wilted houseplant. “We’re lost.”

There was a sound on the other end that was absolutely a laugh disguised as a cough.

“Buck?” she asked.

Buck closed his eyes, scrubbing a hand down his face.

“I’m here…” he groaned.

Maddie didn’t even try to contain the laugh that followed. He could hear her headshake.

“Don’t say anything,” Buck begged.

Maddie’s keyboard clicked rapidly. More laughter.

“According to your location, you’re… a hundred feet below the main road,” she announced. Both men let out wounded noises. “You can head right and reach it in a minute, or keep going straight for about a kilometer. Your call.”

“A hundred feet?” Eddie repeated, mortified.

“Yes. And Buck —other right.”

Buck looked personally betrayed.

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You were thinking it,” Maddie shot back.

They shuffled right —Eddie muttering prayers, Buck muttering curses— and sure enough, the main road appeared like a cosmic joke. It was right there. So close they could have thrown a granola bar at it.

“Thanks, Maddie,” Eddie managed, cheeks burning.

“Anytime. You owe me a coffee for the entertainment. And Buck?”

Buck braced himself, eyes flicking toward Eddie like maybe he could shield him.

“Yeah?”

“Stop trusting Reddit users with suspicious names.”

Eddie burst into laughter, bending slightly as Buck groaned.

“I’ll try,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Liar.”

Click. The call ended.

The silence that followed was thick with embarrassment… And then Eddie started laughing again, and Buck joined him, and the whole ridiculous situation melted into something warm and unforgettable, like every other disaster they somehow managed to turn into a memory worth keeping

The walk back unfolded in a soft, golden quiet —the kind that sinks into your bones, warm and steady, like someone laying a blanket over your shoulders after a long day. It wasn’t an empty silence. 

No, this one buzzed with everything they hadn’t said yet and everything they finally could.

Eddie led the way, though “led” was a generous word. Buck kept so close behind him that their steps naturally fell into sync, their shoulders brushing like it was choreographed. 

Their hands stayed entwined, fingers laced with the kind of ease that comes only after years of choosing each other without ever naming it. 

Eddie didn’t let go, not once —not even when a branch tried to take Buck’s hat hostage.

Buck tugged him closer again, humming thoughtfully.

“You know what?” he said at last.

Eddie glanced back, raising a brow. He didn’t need to say What? Buck could read him like a poem written in overly expressive handwriting.

“The recommendation wasn’t so bad,” Buck declared with unearned confidence, as if they hadn’t just been rescued via sibling humiliation.

Eddie stopped walking for half a second, narrowing his eyes while trying —and failing— not to smile.

“We got lost,” he reminded him flatly.

Buck scoffed, waving that off as irrelevant.

“Right, but we also found other things.”

Eddie blinked, thrown. “Other things?”

Buck nodded, sincere in that infuriating way that made Eddie’s stomach somersault.

“Yeah. Like… I don’t know. You. Me. Talking. Laughing. Your hand in mine. All that good stuff… We found each other in those other things.”

Eddie felt the warmth bloom from his chest upward, like someone lit a small sun under his ribs. He ducked his head, pretending to adjust his backpack even though it didn’t need adjusting at all. His pulse hammered in his throat, loud enough he was certain Buck could hear it.

The seriousness of it hit him all at once —sweet and overwhelming— so Eddie did the only thing that made sense: he bumped Buck’s shoulder hard enough to make him stumble.

“If you ever say anything that cheesy again, I’m throwing you off a cliff,” Eddie warned, laughing as he began walking again.

Buck didn’t even pretend to be offended.

He just smiled —wide, radiant, annoyingly beautiful.

“You know you love my cheesy words,” he said, tone softening, “just as much as you love me.”

Eddie stopped again, but this time it wasn’t because he was irritated —quite the opposite. He turned to Buck, eyes steady, expression brave in a way that felt new and overdue.

“Yes,” he said. 

Clear. Simple. True.

Buck’s breath caught, visible even in the fading light.

And then they walked.

Together, as they always had.

But now —finally— knowing exactly where they were going.

The parking lot appeared between the trees like a mirage —a stretch of gravel and fading sunlight, with the truck waiting for them as loyally as a dog that had long accepted these two were emotionally delayed on all fronts. 

Dust floated lazily in the warm air, carrying the smell of pine and sweat and something else lingering between them. Something new, but also ancient, like it had been waiting for years.

Buck reached the truck first and pressed his palm to the sun-warmed roof, grounding himself. His heart was still racing —not from the walk, not from the climb, but from Eddie’s words, Eddie’s voice, Eddie’s hand in his own. 

He sucked in a deep breath, trying to gather whatever composure he had left.

Behind him, Eddie approached slowly, his steps relaxed, his expression a blend of fondness and this man will be the end of me. Buck could practically feel the weight of his gaze on his back.

“Well,” Buck said, his chest rising and falling as he laughed a little. “We survived.”

Eddie snorted, nudging his shoulder again because apparently that had become their new form of punctuation.

“Yeah,” he said. “And without losing any kidneys.”

Buck let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head as if that might dispel the nerves fluttering through him. Because part of him was terrified this fragile moment —this shift between them— might evaporate as soon as they reached the truck.

“That too,” he murmured, then met Eddie’s gaze directly. No masks left. No deflecting. “I guess now… It’s time to go.”

Eddie tilted his head, and Buck felt the air thicken between them again. There was something steady and unshakeable in Eddie’s voice when he answered.

“Yes. Let’s go home.”

Buck opened the driver’s door, ready to climb in —except he didn’t. 

He froze halfway, fingers gripping the metal, his breath hitching. Something tugged at him, warm and persistent, right beneath his ribs. The unspoken thing between them pulled tighter, thrumming like a thread of light.

Eddie’s voice dipped lower.

“What’s wrong?”

He knew. He absolutely knew. But he asked anyway, in that gentle Eddie way that left Buck undone.

Buck turned to him, throat tight, words stumbling. “I was thinking… about earlier.”

Eddie didn’t even blink.

“Me too.”

Buck swallowed, throat suddenly dry.

“Eddie, I—”

He didn’t finish.

He didn’t have to.

Because Eddie moved. Two steps. One full of certainty, the other steeped in tenderness. His hand shot up to Buck’s collar —not rough, just sure— and pulled him closer.

Buck inhaled sharply, but the sound drowned in the kiss Eddie pressed to his mouth.

No hesitation.

No stuttering intention.

Just a kiss that said, Here. I’m right here. I’ve been here.

Buck responded like gravity had given out, hands diving to grip the hem of Eddie’s shirt, tugging him closer with a soft gasp. 

The world around them blurred; the forest, the heat, the long day —they all disappeared into the press of mouths and breaths and the overwhelming relief of finally being understood without a single word.

The kiss deepened, warm and fierce and years overdue. He could feel Eddie’s pulse against his own, feel the moment carving itself into him like something sacred.

When they finally broke apart, both were breathless, grinning like two men who'd finally stopped running from the same truth.

“Wow,” Buck managed, his voice soft and unsteady. “That was…”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, resting their foreheads together. “We’ve got a lot of time to make up.”

Buck laughed —a sound bright and effortless, like sunlight cracking open his chest.

“So… your home?”

Eddie’s expression softened, turned warm and tender in a way that made something inside Buck melt entirely.

“Buck,” he said quietly, firmly, “that’s our home.”

Buck blinked, stunned by the quiet, certain truth of it. “…Yeah?”

“Yeah. And I’m not talking about moving —yet.” He smirked. “But… you know.”

Buck brushed his thumb across Eddie’s cheek, nodding.

“Yeah. I know.”

Eddie leaned in, giving him the softest kiss of the night —a gentle seal over everything they had just confessed, a promise of more.

“Come on,” Eddie said, voice warm. “Christopher’s going to yell at us for getting lost.”

Buck finally slid into the driver’s seat, and Eddie rounded the truck to climb in beside him, rolling down the window to breathe in the last warm breeze.

The engine hummed to life beneath Buck’s hands, steady and familiar. 

Eddie buckled his seatbelt, then glanced over at him with a smile so gentle it made Buck’s chest ache in the best way.

They drove off slowly, gravel crunching beneath the tires, the forest falling away behind them.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then Eddie whispered, almost to himself, “You know… maybe we had to get lost today.”

Buck glanced at him, curiosity soft and bright.

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

Eddie turned his head, eyes glowing with something quiet and sure.

“Because Abuela one day told me that sometimes you’ve gotta lose the path to find the truth.” He paused, smile tugging at his lips. “And the truth is… I’ve been in love with you for a long time.”

Warmth bloomed through Buck’s entire body like sunrise. He reached across the console, taking Eddie’s hand without looking away from the road.

“Then getting lost,” Buck murmured, voice thick with happiness, “was the best damn thing that ever happened to us.”

Their fingers intertwined.

The road stretched ahead, open and bright.

And for the first time, they weren’t just going home —they were going toward the love they’d finally found by losing their way.