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“We should make it a road trip, Eddie! We never hang out anymore, Eddie! It’ll be so fun, Eddie!” Eddie mimics, his voice trailing as he disappears into the tiny bathroom connected to their Budget Queen motel room — the last one left at the only motel within miles.
Buck rolls his eyes, plonking his overnight bag on the wrong side of the bed. His bones hurt from sitting, and his eyes are strained from all the driving. His ears also hurt from all of Eddie’s bitching.
“It’ll be like a vacation, Eddie!” Eddie continues over the sound of the sink running. “Why would we fly when we could get stranded in the middle of the desert with no signal, Eddie!?”
“We’re not stranded,” Buck scoffs. His truck might have broken down in the middle of nowhere with no service, but they were only stranded for a few hours until someone drove past and called a tow truck. “And you weren’t saying that when you were stuffing your face with the tamales that I found, or the cherry pie that I read about.”
“Even if I had said something,” Eddie says, storming back into the room and heading for the mini fridge. “You wouldn’t have heard me over the incessant sounds of your stupid podcasts. Five dollars for water!” He scoffs, rummaging through the offerings. “I’m not paying five dollars for water.”
“They’re educational! I said we could listen to something else!”
“I’d rather listen to random British people I’ve never met before rank American Presidents than have to listen to your stupid voice singing your stupid songs. You don’t even know the words! If you don’t know the words, you’re not supposed to just make up new ones!”
“Sorry for being joyful and well-educated, Eddie. Someone has to be a good time.”
Buck yanks comparatively clean clothes from his bag, rummaging around for his toothbrush.
Eddie takes a $5 bottle of water from the mini fridge and downs it. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“You,” Buck accuses, taking his pile of clothes and toothbrush into the bathroom. “Are a grouch. You wake up grouchy, and as soon as something pisses you off, you stay grouchy. All day. Big ol’ Mr Grouch.”
Eddie scoffs. “No one should have that much to say before 7 am. The morning is for quiet. It’s not for talking.”
Buck strips methodically, throwing his sweaty, grease-stained clothes into a pile on the bathroom floor. He doesn’t bother shutting the meager sliding door between the bathroom and the rest of the tiny room, lest Eddie not be able to hear his scathing replies.
“Fuck me for thinking my best friend might enjoy hearing about my dreams, then, I guess!” He offers, stepping under the lukewarm spray of the shower.
“Yes!” Eddie agrees. “Yes! No one wants to hear about your dreams! I don’t want to hear about your dreams!”
“Well, I would want to hear about your dreams,” Buck huffs. The lukewarm water turns entirely cold. Soap. Shampoo. Scrub, scrub, scrub. “Even at 7 am.”
Eddie lets out an annoyed sigh. “Your bag is on my side.”
Buck rinses the soap from his eyes and turns off the water. “Oh, now I’m not allowed to change sides?”
“That’s not your side. You’re just trying to piss me off.”
He dries himself off haphazardly and changes into a freshish shirt and soft sweats. He returns to the room where Eddie has moved his bag to the floor. Buck plonks down onto ‘Eddie’s side’ with a grin. “Is it working?”
“You know that’s my fucking side.”
Buck shrugs. He nods toward the shower. “Water’s cold.”
Eddie sucks in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He picks up his own pile of clothes and takes the three steps toward the bathroom. “Get the fuck off my side.”
Eddie does shut the door to the bathroom, which feels more like a gesture of fuck you than a need for privacy. Still, Buck hears the shower turn on and asks, “Refreshing?”
“Go fuck yourself, Buckley.”
“Any good dreams this week?”
Eddie ignores him. Buck shimmies under the covers of the wrong side of the bed, inspecting the various pillow options and swapping the best ones to his side.
Eddie’s shower is quick, as was Buck’s. The sliding door grumbles open to reveal Eddie glaring at him in a pair of underwear and a tank.
Buck watches in real-time as Eddie considers if he can be fucked dying on the wrong-side-of-the-bed hill. It’s late, so Buck is not surprised when Eddie sighs deeply and gets into the other side of the bed.
Eddie assesses his pillow situation unhappily, punching down the one that’s too high and grimacing at the one that’s so skinny you start to picture all the strangers’ heads that have flattened it.
He wriggles down beneath the covers beside Buck until they’re shoulder to shoulder. Buck plans to let bygones be bygones — to switch off the lamp and get some much-needed rest, but then Eddie yanks the covers toward him, and the olive branch explodes into a ball of flames.
“If you steal the covers, I will push you off the bed.”
“Don’t fucking snore, then.”
Buck yanks the covers back toward him. “Don’t hog the sheets, then.”
“Your foot is touching me.”
“Your leg is touching my foot.”
Eddie slices his arm down the middle of the bed theatrically. “This is my half. Your foot is on my half.”
“I’m bigger.”
Eddie scoffs. “Barely.”
Buck snorts. “Okay.”
Buck can admit that one queen bed is not ideal for two fairly large firefighters, and he is bigger than Eddie, and he’s definitely going to snore, so he decides to leave it there. Eddie is almost certainly going to get the shittiest end of this there-was-only-one-bed stick.
Buck flicks off the lamp, closes his eyes, and tries to find sleep.
“I can hear you breathing.”
Or not.
Buck sucks in an irritated breath. “What would you like me to do about that?”
“Breathe quietly.”
“I can’t help how I breathe!”
“Turn over or something!”
Buck sighs and rolls over, away from Eddie, taking his share of the covers with him. Eddie tugs sharply at the covers — they slip off of Buck’s shoulder. Buck rolls right back over, sitting up on his elbow to glare at him.
Eddie blinks at him innocently. “What?”
“You know what.”
“You know what what?”
Buck scoffs and drops back down onto his back. He’s not doing this. He’s tired. It’s late. They’ve been bickering all day.
He lets out a deep breath, closes his eyes, and - -
Oh. Perfect.
The unmistakable rhythmic banging of a bedhead against a wall thud, thud, thuds behind them. Buck stares silently up at the ceiling. Their neighbors loudly communicate that they are having an enjoyable time.
Eddie also stares silently up at the ceiling beside him.
And, wow. They are really having an enjoyable time, it seems. Buck would be happy for them in most other circumstances.
It’s just that he’s really aware of trying to be normal about this. He’s thinking way too much about his breathing. He’s trying to breathe normally, but now he’s thinking too much about it, and the more he tries to breathe slowly, the more he feels like he’s not getting enough oxygen.
“Can you not do that?”
“I’m not doing anything!”
“You’re breathing weird.”
“I am not! I’m breathing normal! You’re breathing weird!”
“It’s gross.”
“Your face is gross.”
“What are you, seven?”
“At least I’m not 80 years old and grouchy.”
“Just your knees.”
“Fuck off.”
“You fuck off.”
“I would if I could.”
They both huff. Buck inspects the ceiling until their neighbors, blessedly, seem to tire themselves out. Fucking finally. Sleep.
Buck closes his eyes. He takes a calming breath. He pictures sheep in his mind. He counts them.
“Your nose is, like, whistling.”
His eyes snap open. He turns on the light.
“Okay, what’s your fucking problem, man?” He demands.
Eddie looks slightly guilty as he squints at the sudden light. “Can you not? I’m trying to sleep.”
“Oh, now you’re trying to sleep? I thought you were just listing everything I do that annoys you.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Eddie says, eyes closed. “It would take too long.”
Buck sighs. He’s going to have to address it. He’d thought that maybe — maybe — Eddie hadn’t seen it. He’d been too focused on aggressively pressing buttons until the CarPlay’s text announcement feature shut the fuck up, that he hadn’t realized it was also previewing the message on the screen. “You saw the text.”
Buck had really hoped he’d slapped the notification off the screen fast enough, or that Eddie wasn’t really paying attention. He’d hoped so hard that he’d deluded himself into thinking Eddie was just in a pissy, bitchy mood from that exact moment on, for completely unrelated reasons.
But now it seems that Eddie would prefer that Buck stops breathing in his sleep, so. He’s kind of running out of ways to delude himself, here.
“What text?”
“Eddie.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Look, it’s not what you think.”
“What isn’t?”
“Can you fucking stop? I get it, okay? It made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry. It’s not like I wanted you to see that!”
“Yeah, no, I got that part.”
“It doesn’t have to be weird! She was mostly just joking! I would never actually do that.”
Eddie scoffs.
“What?”
“What do you mean you’d never actually do that? You already did.”
“What?” Buck frowns. He runs the message over in his head. The fucking message that is burned into his retinas, sent by one Maddie Buckley-Han at 8:03 AM. Sent from Maddie’s iPhone and delivered to Buck’s truck’s CarPlay as they drove through a truly miraculous, fuck-you patch of cell service.
Ha! Sounds like fun. My hot firefighter is making me breakfast in bed. Have you kissed yours yet?
Buck processes every word. He has not done that. He would remember if he had done that. “No, I didn’t.”
“Okay,” Eddie scoffs.
“I think I would remember kissing you?”
Eddie freezes. “What?”
“What?”
“What?”
“I don’t know! Why are we saying what?”
“Me?” Eddie gapes. “Why would you kiss me?”
“That’s - - what?”
“You were talking about Tommy.”
Buck blinks. Where the fuck had Tommy come from? He hasn’t seen Tommy in at least 12 months.
“What?”
“What what? You were - - I thought you were back with Tommy?”
Buck grimaces without even meaning to. “Why would I - - no. No. You - - oh.” Oh. Uh-oh. He swallows. He clears his throat. “You thought she was talking about Tommy.”
“Why would I think - - what?” Eddie repeats, bewildered. “Why would she be talking about me?”
Oh, fuck. Oh no. This is - - this is very bad.
Buck holds a hum. “I actually think - - I think you’re right, actually. I think she was talking about Tommy.”
“Buck.”
Yes. Yes, Buck was wrong, and Eddie was right. He can make Eddie believe this. Buck can probably even make himself believe this. Because Buck thought that Eddie was pissed off at him for wanting to kiss Eddie, but everything will be fine if Eddie thinks Buck wants to kiss Tommy.
Except - - wait. Wait a second.
Eddie was?? Eddie was pissed because…because he thought that Buck wanted to kiss Tommy. Which - - see, now that doesn’t make sense.
Buck frowns. He blinks at Eddie. “Why were you pissed off at me for kissing Tommy?”
“I thought you didn’t kiss Tommy?”
“I didn’t! I didn’t kiss anyone!”
“Oh. Okay. You - - you can do better than Tommy.”
“You were pissed off at me because I can do better?”
“Yes.”
Buck blinks at Eddie, then he blinks at the wall, and then he plonks back down against his pillow. He blinks at the ceiling.
Eddie also, slowly, quietly, lowers himself back down beside him.
It’s still and silent. They are still and silent.
And Buck is pretty sure Eddie is gonna leave it. He knows better than to ask questions he doesn’t want the answer to. He’s not so much worried about that, and more so trying to figure out when it will be a good time to reach his hand out and turn the lamp back off without reminding Eddie that he exists.
He’s thinking maybe another minute or two, but Eddie resets the clock with a groan.
“Fuck, man,” he groans. “Why didn’t you tell me I was being an asshole?”
“I did!”
“No, I - - I’m not a homophobic asshole. You thought I was being a homophobic asshole!”
“I thought you were uncomfortable!”
“For homophobic reasons!”
“I don’t think it’s homophobic to not want to kiss a guy when you’re straight, Eddie. I think that’s just being straight.”
“Well, I wouldn’t know.”
“Wouldn’t know what?”
“What it’s like to be straight.”
Buck blinks at the side of Eddie’s head. “What else would you be?”
Eddie shrugs, his eyes trained on the ceiling. “Dunno.”
Buck continues to stare at the side of Eddie’s head, waiting for the rest of that sentence, or another sentence that makes any of those previous sentences make sense. It doesn’t come.
“Wait. Are you serious?”
“It’s not a big deal.”
It’s not a - - ?????
Holy fuck. That’s exactly what Eddie would say if he were being serious.
Eddie is being fucking serious.
Jesus fucking christ. Buck needs to get it together. He needs to be normal.
“It - - it’s - - right,” he stutters. “You’re right. It’s not a big deal. That you’re - - not…straight?”
“Right.”
“Okay. Yeah.”
“Can you turn the light off?”
Buck blinks, bewildered at the request. No, actually. He cannot turn the light off at a time like this.
He has so many questions. There are so many things that he doesn’t know. He can’t just turn the light off. What a ridiculous suggestion. He has to ask a question. He’ll just ask one question, in a normal, casual, not-a-big-deal way. He won’t make it about him, because this isn’t about him, it’s about Eddie. And Eddie being not straight isn’t about Buck. It’s about Eddie. And not about Buck.
Unless it’s maybe, a little bit, potentially, perhaps, just a teeny tiny bit about Buck.
“Why - - why were you so annoyed?”
Whoops.
“I told you. You can do better.”
Buck’s breath catches. “How…how much better, do you think?”
Eddie’s swallows. “Definitely younger,” he says.
Buck focuses on breathing again. Slow, normal, not a big deal.
“You want to be a dad, so,” Eddie shrugs. “Someone who wants kids, or already has them.”
Buck nods. That’s both true and, in a very not a big deal and normal way, also applicable to Eddie.
“Someone who listens when you talk,” he continues. “Things like that.”
Buck is a selfish person, he decides. He’s generally tried not to be in his life up to this point, but in this moment, he gives in to it. None of this should be about him, but he’s powerless against making it so.
“You think - - uh, a firefighter, probably? Or no?”
Eddie hums. “I can see that. Yeah.”
“Yeah. So, a hot, young firefighter with a kid, who listens when I talk?”
“I think so. Yeah.”
His breathing is beyond fucked. It’s heavy and hopeful and fueled by a heart racing like it knows it’s headed for something worth running to.
“Should they be shorter than me?”
“Not by much, probably.”
Buck bites down a smile. “No?”
“Barely noticeable.”
“But not taller?”
“No. And they should have great hair. Better than yours.”
Buck scoffs. “These curls are a work of art. Do you know how long this takes me?”
“I do,” Eddie says, unexpectedly soft. “I was there when you taught Chris.”
Buck smiles at the memory. “Have you heard from him?”
“No signal. Last I heard, he and Denny were going to the movies tonight.”
“Will he worry? If he can’t reach you?”
“I don’t think he’d notice if I were abducted by aliens until his snack supply ran out, or the wifi turned off.”
Buck snorts. “I’d notice.”
“I know.”
Buck would like to turn his head, just a little to the side, and look at Eddie, but he can’t quite work up the courage. Instead, he looks at the ceiling and says:
“Sorry I said your face was gross. I didn’t mean it.”
Understatement of the fucking millennium.
Eddie snorts. “I deserved it. Sorry for being grouchy.”
Buck sucks in a deep, courageous breath.
“Eddie?”
“Hmm?”
“Were you…jealous?”
Eddie clears his throat. “No.”
“Are you sure?”
“I don’t get jealous. You get jealous.”
“That doesn’t sound like me.”
Eddie snorts. He takes what sounds like his own courageous breath. “Why did Maddie say that?”
Buck swallows. Eddie knows better. If he’s asking, he wants the answer. He wants Buck to say it.
“She thinks I’m in love with you.”
“Are you?”
“Tommy thinks so.”
“He said that?”
“He implied it.”
“And what did you say?”
“That you’re straight.”
“Which I’m not.”
“Well, I didn’t know that yet.”
“But Tommy did?”
“I guess so! I don’t know! He - - he implied that, too.”
“So, are you?”
“In love with you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Seems like good information to have.”
“What are you going to do with it?”
“Take a guess.”
This is…more than Buck thought Eddie would want. It’s too much, too big, too honest. It’s too much to lose.
Eddie is asking him to jump, and Buck knows he’ll break his fall, but he doesn’t know if he’ll catch him or crush him at the end of it.
“I don’t…want to.”
“Don’t want to guess? Or don’t want to answer?”
“What are we doing?”
“Talking.”
“Why?”
He hears Eddie’s pillow rustle as he turns toward him. He can see him looking at him in his periphery.
“I’m not messing with you.”
“I - - I feel like I’m going to say the wrong thing. Or too much. You’re my best friend, Eddie. That’s enough for me.”
“Okay. That’s fine. You’re always gonna be my best friend. You don’t really have any competition.”
Buck scoffs. “Gee, thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
Competition. Buck has never done well with those when it comes to Eddie. Well, he’s actually done excellently, if you look at the results alone, but he’s never been a good sport about it.
“You called yourself Hen’s work husband.”
“See?” Eddie teases. “Jealous.”
“You never called me your work husband.”
“That would be like calling you my work best friend.”
“I am.”
“You’re my best friend.”
“But I'm not your husband.”
“You’re my partner.”
“Your work partner.”
“My life partner.”
Buck squeezes his eyes shut. “Eddie. I don’t think you should be saying any of this. It’s late. You’re tired. It’s been a long day.”
“Does Maddie think I’m in love with you?”
Buck chokes. “What?”
“Does she think it’s a good idea?”
“I don’t - - she - - she said it wouldn’t be so crazy.”
“Right,” Eddie nods. “Because we’re already life partners.”
“Eddie!” Buck chokes. “I don’t think you can just declare that! I think you have to ask.”
“We raise a kid together,” Eddie reasons. “And we grocery shop together. You’re in my will. You’d be the first to notice if I were abducted by aliens.”
Buck gapes. “Where did this come from? Eddie - - what? Why are you - - why are you asking?”
“I couldn’t, when Chris was gone. I had to get him back. And then Bobby, and it was never the right time after that. I was - - if you found someone else, I would have been happy for you. Someone good enough. Not Tommy, and not those piranhas bidding on you at the auction.”
“You mean the nice, generous people supporting a good cause?”
“Yes,” Eddie grunts. “The piranhas who just think you’re hot and tall and big. It’s objectifying.”
Buck is struck momentarily speechless. “Sorry, just to check, do the piranhas think I’m hot and tall and big, or are those your words?”
“You’re also,” Eddie continues, pointedly not answering the question, “kind, and funny, and smart, and brave, and loyal, and generous, and very, very hot, okay? Yes. You’re all those things, and you should be with someone who loves you because of that.”
Buck sucks in a breath. It’s not a particularly courageous one, nor is it one he had to think too much about. It’s just a breath — his twenty-seven millionth breath in front of Eddie. “Did you have anyone in mind?”
“Yes, you big dummy. I’ve been - - meaning to tell you. And then I thought you were back with your ex, and that it was too late, and so that’s where this is coming from. That’s why I’m asking.”
The twenty-seven-million-and-first breath is braver. “Meaning to tell me what?”
Eddie turns more fully toward him. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Buck turns, too. He finally meets Eddie’s eye. His twenty-seven-million-and-second breath shared with Eddie is the bravest one he’s ever taken. “Yes.”
A tiny smile tugs at the corners of Eddie’s mouth. He swallows. He leans forward the minuscule distance left between them and presses their lips together. Their first breath shared this closely is gentle and quiet.
“I’ve been meaning to tell you that,” Eddie whispers. “That I’ve been wanting to do that. Because I’m in love with you.”
The words hit Buck like a bolt of lightning, energy and static sizzling and snapping from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. His heart doesn’t stop this time — it clicks into place.
When Buck opens his eyes, he expects the world to look different from how it did when he closed them, back when he was unloved and unkissed by Eddie. Of course, because there’s never been a world where Buck didn’t love Eddie and Eddie didn’t love Buck, it looks exactly the same.
“Are you sure?” Buck asks, because he needs him to be. He won’t survive this if he’s not.
Eddie nods. Buck has never had a reason not to believe him. Which means - - holy shit. That means that Buck is in love with Eddie, and Eddie is in love with Buck.
“Wait,” Buck breathes. “Really?”
Eddie smiles, amused at the delayed reaction. “I promise I won’t bitch about your breathing every night. I was jealous.”
Buck grins. “I knew it.”
Eddie buries a hand in Buck’s curls. He tugs him closer. “Hey, Buck?” He whispers.
“Yeah?”
“The road trip was a good idea.”
Buck smiles. He kisses Eddie first for the first time.
Eddie lets out a contented little sigh.
“I’m in love with you,” Buck says, because although he kind of said it, he hasn’t said it.
Eddie smiles. He kisses Buck first for the second time, pulling Buck until he’s more or less on top of him. This kiss is decidedly less gentle, and Buck is not complaining. Eddie is a good kisser. He kisses like he means it, which means he’s keeping up with Buck. Buck grins into the kiss.
“You’re kissing a dude,” he grins.
Eddie snorts. “Yeah. I know.”
“What are your thoughts?”
Eddie hums and kisses him, like he’s gathering data. He pulls back. “I think I’m gay.”
Buck has never been more delighted about the outcome of a scientific experiment ever in his life. “That good, huh?”
Eddie rolls his eyes, which is fair. But, remember, Buck is being selfish for a moment. He’s making some things about him. And since this is just a little bit about him, and Buck really, really wants to, he pulls Eddie back in.
For the next unidentifiable period of time, Buck makes out with Eddie. They’re so far beyond gentle, quiet first kisses that the concept is a distant memory. Buck’s tongue has met Eddie’s, and they are fast friends.
Buck loses all track of time, but, at some point, he catches a passing brain cell that reminds him that this is new. It’s new for him, and for them, but most importantly, this is all very new for Eddie.
Buck counts himself down to pulling his mouth away from Eddie’s, starting at 15, so he has time to appreciate and time to mourn.
Three, two, one…
Buck uses every ounce of strength he has to drag himself away, pulling back further than he has in maybe hours. He’s not sure. He leans back on his forearm, still kind of hovering over Eddie.
Eddie blinks up at him, looking like absolute sin.
Buck can do this. He can not make out with Eddie for thirty seconds. He takes a deep breath.
“You’re not freaking out?” He checks.
Eddie considers this. “Not currently. You?”
“I mean, yeah. A little. You’re the hottest person I’ve literally ever met, and I’m in love with you, and you’re letting me kiss you.”
“So my face isn’t gross anymore?”
Buck pouts. “I said I didn’t mean it.”
Eddie pushes himself up on his own forearms, closing some of the distance Buck had put between them. He runs a hand over Buck’s jaw. “You’re good?”
Buck nods. “I’m - - I’m really good. I feel, like, a lot right now? But good. Are you good?”
Eddie nods. “I’m good.” He uses the hand on his jaw to pull him closer, slotting their mouths together. “I’m really, really good,” he mumbles between kisses. Without Buck really noticing it’s happening, Eddie pulls him back down on top of him, returning them to their original positions. Different from before, however, is the hand trailing from Buck’s jaw, down his neck, over his chest, toward the waistband of his sweats.
Oh. Buck pulls back, gasping for breath. “Like, really, really good?” He clarifies.
“Yes, Buck,” he nods. “If you’re good, I’m good. Very good, very gay.”
“Holy fuck,” Buck breathes. “This road trip is the best idea I’ve ever had.”
“Mhm,” Eddie agrees, dazed. “You’re a hot, beautiful genius. Big brain. Big muscles. Big. Hot.”
Buck grins. “Eddie Diaz,” he teases, delighted. “You are very gay.”
Eddie nods urgently. “Buck,” he breathes. “Shut the fuck up and kiss me.”