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EDDIE
Buck falls into him, shirt covered in beer and an assortment of hard liquors. The smell is putrid, and the sight even worse. Eddie’s been drunk with Buck before, but he’s never been a sober spectator to the mess itself.
“We should go,” Eddie insists, hauling Buck back up to his feet. He keeps a stabilizing hand on Buck’s shoulder.
“The night is young, Eddie!” Buck drags out his words. “And we are the 2026 Firefighter Olympic Champions.” He tosses his drink up in the air in celebration, losing half of it in the process.
Eddie grabs the drink from Buck’s hand and sets it down on the table behind them. “I’m cutting you off.”
“Yes, sir. Eddie, sir.” Buck salutes with a pout. “But you can’t stop me from riding the bull.”
Buck slaps away Eddie’s hand and sprints toward the mechanical bull. Eddie lurches to reel him back, but his hand whiffs through the air.
“Buck!” He shouts. It’s no use over the music and loud conversations. He breaks into a jog, chasing after him.
Eddie cashed it in after his first beer, having enough awareness to understand how long the drive ahead of them is and how early they have to wake up.
Buck clearly did not have the same thought.
Eddie pushes past the herd of drunk patrons until he stumbles out of the sweaty mix and lands outside the ring. He catches up with Buck a moment later, who’s watching the current victim with stars in his eyes.
“The bar record is a minute fifteen, you think I could break it?” Buck bounces up and down and shakes out his hand.
He does know this isn’t a bull fight, right?
“If you don’t puke first,” Eddie chuckles to himself. The girl ahead of Buck is thrown off after twelve seconds and lands with a hard bounce. It only fuels him more.
Buck climbs through the ropes of the ring, grabbing a stray shot from a waitress along the way.
“Who’s cut off now!” He leans down to Eddie, shaking the glass. Buck sends it back quickly, eyes bright with determination.
Eddie crosses his arms and sighs. If this is what it takes to get them out of here, so be it.
“This,” Buck reaches out and snatches Eddie’s cowboy hat from his head, “is for me.” He swipes his finger across the brim with a sparkling smile.
The crowd eggs him on, waiting eagerly for his confident display to fail him the second the bull starts.
“Alright, cowboy, go get ‘em,” Eddie nods.
Buck pauses, if only for a moment, to consider the weight of what he’s about to do next. Eddie’s not sure how, but he can almost see Buck’s inhibition leave his body.
“And this,” he kneels and grabs Eddie's face through the ropes. Buck plants a hard, smushed kiss dead center on Eddie’s lips, “is for good luck.”
As if it were nothing, Buck dances his way over to the bull to start the ride.
Eddie stumbles back, mouth agape. The softness of Buck’s lips and the sweet taste of vanilla vodka linger in the wake of the kiss. A wave of shock ripples down Eddie’s spine, trailed only by a comforting, unfamiliar warmth. He clears his throat, but can’t shake the feeling.
The noises around him consolidate to form one long ring; his arms go limp at his side. All his senses center around the ghost of Buck’s lips against his own. He pops them together and apart, trying to ground himself, but like the bite of a hot pepper, they buzz with numbness.
His heart thumps to the beat of the music, heavy and fast. He’s familiar with panic attacks, how they settle in your chest until the implosion swallows you whole. This isn’t that.
Underneath all the surprise is a layer of fearful excitement.
He hasn’t spoken or pursued a woman in nearly two years, with good reason. Knowing that deep down, he could begin to open himself up to an unknown world, albeit the world he knows he belongs in.
Through it all, his infatuation for Buck was something of an afterthought, a foregone possibility that it could bloom into something more. Buck had never displayed signs of anything other than friendship, but is that because Eddie’s mask proved impenetrable?
And what changed tonight that made the mask slip?
At the end of the day, Buck is going to be Buck. He’s flirty by nature, and Eddie’s witnessed it over the years through envious eyes. That, in combination with the amount of alcohol in his system, is enough to heighten the trait.
It may even be enough for it to manifest into a heat-of-the-moment, unintentionally passionate kiss.
A pit forms in his stomach, and the scene around him falls back into place.
He grabs a shot of his own. The warm elixir clears his thoughts and swirls itself down to his stomach, emitting its calming effects almost instantly.
The crowd cheers Buck on. Somehow, he’s managed to stay on for forty-five seconds.
Is that really all it’s been?
Buck leans back, tightly clutching the reins in one hand and flinging Eddie’s hat around in circles over his head with the other. He rocks methodically back and forth, anticipating the bull's next move.
Time stops as Eddie’s heart skips a beat. It’s a second that lasts a lifetime.
The red and blue lights dance across Buck’s skin, coming together in one cohesive purple glow. Every sparkle of sweat on his skin reflects off him like a golden mirrorball. His shirt clutches to his biceps, which flex as his grip tightens. His smile radiates like rays of sunlight, his dimples creasing further into his cheeks as it grows.
Eddie gulps through the temptation of the moment, and the world returns to regular speed.
To everyone else, Buck seems like a lock for the title, but Eddie notices the cracks beneath the surface. The color in Buck’s face has faded, a green undertone shining through. He swallows back harder and harder.
“Come on, Buck!” Eddie shouts. As painful as it looks, he just might break the record.
As Buck encroaches on the minute mark, the bull changes direction and picks up speed. It catches him completely off-guard, and Eddie can only bite his cheek.
Buck spins hectically, losing the hat in the process. He clutches the neck for dear life, his eyes now wide with fear.
As if it grew hind legs, the bull kicks up and sends Buck flying into the corner of the ring. He crashes into the padded pole back-first and lands face down, unmoving.
Eddie springs into paramedic mode and leaves his thoughts behind. He ducks under the rope and crawls over to meet Buck’s body. Thankfully, he’s only knocked out for a split second, and by the time Eddie reaches him, he’s already starting to sit up on his own.
“Are you okay?” Eddie asks, trying to conceal an “I told you so” smile through his teeth.
Buck rubs his eyes hard. His hair falls out of shape, curls sitting raggedly against his sweaty forehead. “Did I make it?”
Eddie tilts Buck’s head back to catch the light. With a careful hand, he opens and closes Buck’s eyes to check his pupils. “No, you did not.”
Satisfied with the result, Eddie positions himself beside Buck and heaves him to his feet. Before they hop down, Eddie scoops up his cowboy hat and places it on Buck’s head.
“There you go.” Eddie taps it reassuringly. Buck’s eyes drift up and cross to get a good look. He trips forward, but Eddie’s there to catch him. He slows to Buck’s pace as they head for the door, the rest of the bar falling away until it appears they’re the only two people to exist.
Buck brings a tight fist to his mouth and gags before swallowing hard once more.
“Can we go home now?” Buck whines. ‘I really don’t feel good.”
Eddie gives Buck a light smack on the cheek. “We can, but you have to stay awake until we’re back at the hotel, okay?”
“Alrighty,” Buck says with a fake southern accent. “Whatever you say, partner.”
Eddie's eyes are glued to Buck’s lips, trying to cling to the fading memory of how they felt when tied with his. Slowly, he pulls his gaze up to meet the crystal clear waters residing in Buck’s irises, even as he droops with exhaustion. Like a siren’s call, the hypnotic tug threatens to tear his mask off completely.
For the first time, Eddie drops it. In that moment, any reservations he had before leave his body, and a sturdy confidence replaces them.
He’s unsure of his next steps, still plagued by the mystery of Buck’s true intention, but the pit in his stomach grows smaller with each reassuring thought.
Tonight, he’ll relish in all that it could be, all that he wants it to be.
“What?” Buck questions. Eddie breaks his stare and returns his focus on getting Buck to the car.
“Nothing,” he replies. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
BUCK
A loud bang jolts Buck awake. He forces himself up to rest on his elbows, stretching out his back in the process. Pain shoots down from his shoulders, so tight it knocks the wind out of his lungs.
“Wha…” He groans.
He blinks through the darkness and spots a shadowy figure moving across the room. A second later, he’s blinded by the white, morning sunlight.
Eddie’s silhouette cuts through it, perched in front of the sliding glass doors. Buck rolls onto his side, a more painful task than stretching.
“Get up, drink that,” Eddie orders, pointing to the bedside table. Buck squints to focus his vision and sees an ice-cold bottle of liquid IV. With clenched teeth, Buck reaches for it and sits himself up against the headboard. “There’s advil, too.”
Eddie marches over to the dresser and tosses Buck’s clothes into a duffel bag. Once finished, he heads for the bathroom to collect the items in there.
The AC hums noticeably louder than Buck remembers. It sends a buzz through his ears and down his neck. Goosebumps riddle his chest once the cool air reaches him, and Buck realizes he’s not wearing a shirt. He throws the covers off. He’s not wearing pants either, just his underwear.
“Eddie?” Buck calls out, half concerned and half intrigued as to how he got back here. He grabs at his throat, noting the scratchy feeling.
He thinks back, but the night comes up blank, an empty file in his memory. Bits and pieces, sure, but not enough to put them together.
Eddie pops his head out of the bathroom, disappointment painted across his face. “I don’t want to hear you say another word until that drink is gone.”
Buck does as told and finishes off the drink with ease. It hits the bottom of his stomach, and a growing hunger rumbles through him.
“I brought up some fruit and a muffin to get you going,” Eddie adds. He returns to the main room with everything organized and packed up. He checks his watch. “Speaking of going, we need to go soon if we want to make it to New Mexico before dark.”
“Slow down.” Buck pinches the bridge of his nose and throws his head back against the wooden headboard. “Just give me a second to figure this all out.”
“Figure what out?” Eddie tosses the bags on the bed, along with an outfit for Buck to change into.
“Why I’m not wearing clothes? Why I have bruises up and down my back? How we got back here? How you seem perfectly fine?” Buck questions. “You’re not the least bit curious?”
Eddie finally pauses. “What do you remember about last night?”
Buck puts the pieces together on the fly, dressing himself as he goes. “I remember being really happy…because we won! Yeah, we won the firefighter games, and I was really excited about that. Some of the other teams bought us drinks…” He trails off.
Something registers across Eddie’s face.
Relief? Buck can’t place it.
“And you drank them,” Eddie finishes. “All of them.”
Buck’s face flushes. “You didn’t?”
“No,” Eddie sighs, “because I’d actually like to make it to New Mexico today, as I said.”
Eddie sober and Buck as drunk as could be. His stomach drops to his knees.
“Bull,” Buck states, creasing his brows together. “There was a bull.”
“Yes, there was.” Eddie checks his watch again.
“And I…rode it?” Buck concludes, but hopes his memory serves him wrong.
Eddie nods.
“Hence the bruises,” Buck finishes.
“Yep.”
Buck digs deeper. Flashes of red and blue, a thumping beat, endless drinks, and a sharp pain. Nothing concrete.
The fresh scent of laundry detergent helps mask the mess from the night before. Buck throws on a layer of deodorant and cologne. Eddie tosses him a washcloth for his face.
The cold water leaves Buck feeling completely renewed.
He dabs it across his bruises, using it as a make-shift ice pack. Once cooled, he throws on a loose-fitted shirt.
“Can we go?” Eddie prods.
Easy for him to say. He didn’t spend the night hunched over the toilet.
Oh, wait.
Buck remembers the refreshingly cool tile against his skin and the constant flushing that came with each wave of nausea.
Did Eddie stay up with him?
He must’ve. How else would Buck have made it back to the bed?
Another picture half-forms in his mind, but the pounding in his head forces it away before he can make it out.
Buck runs a quick hand through his messy curls. “Yeah…”
“Okay, great!” Eddie claps his hands together. “Let’s go.” He starts for the door, Buck trails behind him, bags in hand.
“Is that it?” Buck stops Eddie as he reaches for the doorknob. “I feel like I’m missing something.” He searches Eddie’s face for clues.
Eddie’s eyes pull away. He readjusts his bag against his shoulder.
“You pretty much covered it.” He offers a smile. “You drank a lot, rode the bull, fell off the bull, and I got you back here. Nothing to worry about.”
Buck didn’t think he had anything to worry about, but now it seems he does. His heartbeat picks up speed, knees weak with a mix of nerves and dehydration.
He brings his lips together and then releases the tension a second later. His face tightens with the slightest taste of vanilla on his tongue.
“Are you sure?” Buck’s eyes narrow, trying to place the source of the sweet flavor. Eddie opens the door between them.
“I’m sure.”
Buck accepts it for what it is, but the anxiety hangs over his head like a dark cloud.
He throws on a pair of sunglasses to dull the headache, and together they head down the hotel hallway.
“Give me the keys, I’m driving.” Buck holds out his hand.
“No way,” Eddie scoffs. “You’re probably still drunk.”
“I’m not getting in that car unless I’m behind the wheel. Consider it a ‘thank you’ for getting me back last night,” he insists.
Eddie tightens the keys in his fist. “Or you could just say ‘thank you.’”
Buck considers this. “I’d rather drive.”
Buck takes the driver’s seat.
“We’re switching the second we get to Oklahoma.” Eddie shakes his head.
After a quick coffee run, they hop on I-40, planning to take it all the way back to California.
Buck’s not sure how he expected them to fill the time, but the silence in the first hour takes him by surprise.
Here and there, he points out spots on the road—a cool car, a stray dog, a fallen tree—but barely anything from Eddie’s side. It’s mostly nonverbal hums and grunts of acknowledgement.
“Do you want to play a game?” Buck offers, cutting the tension with a hot knife.
Eddie shifts in his seat. “Like what?”
“I ask a question, you answer it,” Buck explains.
“I think that’s called a conversation, Buck.” Eddie leans his head against the window. There’s not much to look at besides farmland and the rare cow spotting.
“Oh, here’s the fun part, though,” Buck presses. “After you answer it, you get to ask me a question, and I’ll answer it.”
“Mmmm,” Eddie agrees, reluctantly.
“Great! I’ll start.” Buck pauses to think of something juicy. “Why didn’t you ride the bull last night?”
Eddie raises a curious brow. “That’s what you're starting with?”
“It’s not your turn to ask a question yet, Eddie.”
“I feel like the bruises on your back answer that question for me,” he replies. Then, after another moment, “Plus, it’s not really my scene. I’d rather go dancing.”
Buck gives him a satisfied smile. “See, that wasn’t so hard. Your turn.”
Eddie sucks in a sharp breath. He can play as annoyed as he wants, but Buck knows he loves this. “Have you ever been to Arkansas?”
“Random,” Buck answers. “No, I haven’t.”
“Liar,” Eddie scoffs.
“Liar?”
Eddie settles further into the side of the car and closes his eyes with a yawn. “We passed the border twenty miles ago.”
Buck looks down at the map and then up to the road. “I didn’t even realize…” His voice drops low.
“Just drive, Buck,” Eddie’s tone shifts. “Wake me up in a few hours.”
The silence is deafening. The sound of the gravel under the tires is all he has to keep himself distracted from his own thoughts and the sleeping Eddie beside him.
The next few hours pass at a snail’s pace. Buck taps his fingers against the steering wheel, making his own beat to keep his focus on the road. His headache has settled, and the coffee gave him enough of a boost to get through this first leg.
It’s terribly boring, and with each mile, the anxieties from last night grow stronger in his chest. It’s easy to chalk up Eddie’s strange behavior to exhaustion, but he’s seen Eddie tired, and it’s never manifested itself in the way he’s acting now.
Buck can’t remember the last time they spent this much time together, but exchanged so few words. It’s as if a glass divider splits the car in half.
They’re so close, but so far apart.
Eddie’s hair hangs across his forehead, curling at the ends. It bounces with the car, and the rest of his body too. He’s out cold.
Glimpses of last night cross Buck’s mind, but the edges are blackened and burnt like an old film reel. While he can’t remember what exactly occurred, he does remember how he felt.
The tepidness of the night, of each drink, filled his body with the rawest form of joy. That’s what mixed drinks will do to you, but the warmth flowed through him at a deeper, subconscious level. He dropped all inhibitions and felt more like himself than he had in months.
The grief, the loss, the heartbreak. It all fell away.
Eddie’s the only clear face in his memory, surrounded by a dark frame. A clear spot in an otherwise murky pool.
Buck watches him now, careful not to stare hard enough to pull him out of the much-needed nap.
“You’re drifting,” Eddie says, keeping his eyes closed.
Buck moves the wheel back to center. “Am not.”
“Do you want to switch?” Eddie adjusts his position and rubs the sleep from his eyes.
“No, I’m fine.” The whispers of unanswered questions are begging Buck to press the issue, but it appears futile. “You can sleep if you want.”
“You sure?” Eddie’s face narrows.
Buck nods, catching his gaze for a split second before turning back to the road. The black pavement hasn’t changed since the last time he looked at it.
One long stretch of countryside sits between him and getting back home.
Eddie leans his seat back a notch. It only takes another minute for Buck to notice his breathing slow down. Eddie’s chin falls into his chest, and Buck’s back to being alone with the open road and his thoughts.
“Buck, you’re drifting again.” A tough spot on the road wakes Eddie up.
“No, this time I actually wasn’t.” Buck keeps a tight grip on the wheel.
Eddie shifts his seat to the upright position and leans forward to get a clear view of the car. “Let go of the wheel,” he instructs.
“What?”
“I want to see something,” Eddie keeps his eyes over the dashboard.
Buck lifts his hands as if he’s surrendering.
Instead of driving head-on, the car begins to drift into the right lane. Buck catches the wheel before they cross over the line entirely. It takes more effort than normal to realign the car with the way of the road.
“Something wrong with the tires, you think?” Buck inquires.
“I don’t know. Maybe we should stop at the next exit and see—”
A loud pop from below lurches them forward.
The car continues to move, but with each tire rotation, it shakes and shudders. From the rearview, Buck can see the remnants of rubber drift away with the wind.
Eddie looks behind them through the side mirror. “Are these run flats?”
“I think so,” Buck shrugs. “They’re the tires it came with.”
Eddie whips his head around to face Buck. “You haven’t changed your tires?” His question is laced with frustration.
“There’s never been an issue with them,” Buck defends.
Eddie smacks his head against the headrest. “We’ll be lucky if we only lose the one.” He pulls out his phone and dials the number for the roadside assistance company.
Like a mirage in the desert, a bright neon sign appears to them from a distance just when they need it most. Buck smacks Eddie’s phone out of his hands, and it tumbles to the floor.
“Buck!”
“Look!” Buck shouts back. “Oklahoma’s Best Motel and Mechanic,” he reads. Haphazardly, he crosses lanes and speeds towards the off-ramp.
“When the hell did we get to Oklahoma?” Eddie’s knuckles grow white against the grab handle as the car bounces every which way.
“We passed the border twenty miles back,” Buck mimics, voice high. “Actually, it was about two hundred miles.”
Eddie rolls his eyes.
Buck pulls in to park. Despite the lot’s small size, they find a spot easily, given the fact that they’re the only ones in the vicinity.
“Alright, ‘tire expert,’ you deal with the car while I get us checked in.” Buck points over to the mechanic’s garage door.
“Checked in?”
Buck gestures to the scenery around them. On queue, a tumbleweed dances through the parking lot. The sun threatens to set over the flat horizon at a moment's notice.
“Did you really think we’d make it to New Mexico in a day?”
Eddie hops out of the truck. “Maybe if someone hadn’t slept in,” he mumbles, but Buck catches it.
“What was that?” Buck presses, holding a hand to his ear.
“I said I’ll go talk to the mechanic,” Eddie states blankly, and he’s off. Buck makes for the motel front desk.
The entire venue is straight out of a 1950’s Western. The big, neon sign flickers with its last bit of life, the vacancy sign below it doing the same. The faded, pink walls crack with the blow of the wind, and the dust from the surrounding dry land picks up and coats everything in a thin, orange mask.
The only glimmer of hope is the “Open” sign on the door. It creaks with the turn of the knob, but Buck is pleasantly surprised with the interior. A bell chimes to announce his entrance.
He’s immediately met with the warmth from a crackling fire and the scent of lavender. It’s definitely old, but homey in its foundations. There’s an antique living room set, and a perfectly spaced assortment of art to cover every square inch of the cozy welcome room.
“Howdy,” a scratchy, female voice greets him. Buck skips over to the check-in desk to meet the smallest, oldest woman he’s ever seen. Her wispy, gray hair is tied up in a large bun, and she’s wearing bold, pink blush that’s straight out of 1985.
“Hi, do you have a room available for the night?” His cheeks pinch into a smile.
“For a looker like yourself? Of course, honey.” She picks up a pencil and begins to fill out the details by hand. There’s not a single piece of technology in sight. “Where y’all from?”
“Hmm?”
She continues writing. “You and your boyfriend, where are y’all from?”
Buck smacks his lips. “Oh, no. No, we’re not- he’s not my—”
“Oh, we don’t judge here,” she smiles and hands him his copy of the receipt. “Love is love, isn’t that what they say?”
Buck leans into it, figuring it's easier to agree to get out of this. “That is what they say.”
“I gave you two the deluxe room,” she says proudly. “It has its own skylight.” She folds her hands together in excitement.
“Thank you,” Buck accepts. “Do you prefer cash?”
“Honey, it's all we take,” she chuckles. “Haven’t gotten used to this whole credit and debit technology yet.”
Buck hands her a few big bills, and she shuffles into the back room to fetch his change.
He rests his elbows against the counter. Her words ring through his ears like the lasting note of a gong.
Your Boyfriend. Your Boyfriend. Your Boyfriend.
His heart races, threatening to jump out of his chest and into his shaky hands. He doesn’t quite understand the sudden panic. He and Eddie have been confused for a couple before, but it didn’t fluster Buck then the way it does now.
It’s an impossible reality given the fact that Eddie is straight. Buck admires him, sure, but thinking of Eddie as anything more than a friend has only ever crossed his mind when brought up by other people.
He’s never once considered it a possibility because it simply could never happen.
Why invest in future rejection and disappointment?
Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boyfriend.
“You live here by yourself?” Buck calls out, diverting his own thoughts.
She returns with his change in hand. “My husband’s the mechanic, so it’s the two of us.”
Buck’s face softens. “That’s lovely.”
“Wouldn’t change it for the world.” Her eyes sparkle. “Those are his hats on the wall behind you. It’s his prize collection, so he wanted it front and center in our little lobby.” She points over Buck’s shoulder.
“The things we do for love,” Buck adds. He collects his change and pockets his wallet, grabbing the room key with his other hand. He gives her one last nod, and she returns it with a grin, pink cheeks on full display.
Turning to face the row of cowboy hats on the wall behind him, he stops in his tracks.
Cowboy hats…
Cowboy…
Something in the far depths of his mind crawls up for air.
“Alright, cowboy, go get ‘em,”
“And this,” Buck kneels and grabs Eddie's face through the ropes. He plants a hard, smushed kiss dead center on Eddie’s lips, “is for good luck.”
Oh, no.
Oh, no.
Oh, God, what did he do?
Flashes of red and blue, a thumping beat, endless drinks, a kiss, and then a sharp pain.
Buck chokes back a breath and clutches his chest. His heart twists in its cavity, the embarrassment sending a shock to his system.
He kissed Eddie last night.
“You alright, son?” Her voice breaks through.
“F-fine,” he gets out. “Thanks again.”
The chime of the bell signals his exit.
The sun has settled behind the motel, casting a dark shadow over the parking lot.
Eddie waves him down and picks up his gate to join Buck at the base of the motel stairs. Their bags hang from his arms.
A bead of sweat forms across Buck’s forehead. He wipes it away and settles his breathing before Eddie gets close enough to notice.
Eddie knows everything, but he doesn’t know Buck knows.
Buck knows, but the choice to confess that information weighs on him. It wouldn’t change a thing between them, not really.
He thinks back to the last ten hours of his life when they first hit the road.
Maybe it already has, and in the worst way possible.
Buck forced Eddie into an impossible situation, and now he’s grown resentful of their friendship. It’s going to make the next 1,200 miles of their journey home all the more messy and hard.
“The car should be ready in the morning,” his words drift through the air, barely breaking through the static of Buck’s thoughts. “What room are we in?”
Buck fiddles with the key in his hand. “Four,” he says blankly. “I-I think it’s upstairs.”
“Everything okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Eddie chuckles. He walks ahead of Buck up the stairs..
“Just tired,” Buck excuses. He stares bullets at Eddie’s back, nearly tripping up the steps in the process.
“If we go to bed soon, we can get an early start tomorrow and hopefully make it back the next day.” Eddie stops in front of door number four. “And I’ll drive.”
“Uh huh.” Buck’s memories grow clearer by the second. His lips buzz, tongue dry, as if begging to find relief in another kiss. His face twists at the idea that the most unhinged version of himself found comfort in Eddie’s lips.
He hates that drunken actions have turned to sober thoughts, or maybe it's the other way around.
At least Buck can play exhausted enough to go straight to bed and push addressing the elephant in the room to tomorrow.
He slips the key into the hole with a deep, stabilizing sigh. He’s less than ten feet from a warm shower, a comfortable bed, and hopefully a good night's rest.
“Oh, no.” The words escape before Buck can stop them.
There’s only one bed.
There’s only one bed.
Buck was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t think to ask what exactly the deluxe room entailed.
“What?” Eddie lugs in the baggage behind him. “Oh.”
They stand side by side in the doorway, shoulders just barely touching. Buck steps an inch to his right to break the contact.
“It’s only for the night,” Buck reassures himself, not meaning to say it outloud. His eyes widen, and he looks to Eddie. He’s uncomfortable, that’s clear to see, but Buck can’t get a read on him like usual. It’s like he’s put a mask on.
“I’m going to shower.” Eddie throws the bags onto the one bed and immediately makes for the bathroom.
It only takes a second for the water to start running.
Buck melts onto the comforter and stares up at the ceiling. For as horrible as this situation is, the skylight adds an oddly comforting touch.
The orange and pink sky quickly fade into a deep blue. The stars begin to crack through the darkness and build off the full moonlight, casting a stream of light onto the bed.
He reaches for a granola bar, only realizing now how hungry he’s grown. He sets another down on the bed for Eddie to eat after his shower.
The bathroom door opens a minute later. Eddie keeps his head low as he fiddles through his bag for a spare set of clothes.
The remnants of water sparkle off his back in the low glow of the moonrise. His ungelled, wet hair curls naturally and drips down onto the floor below. Buck swallows back a piece of the granola bar.
He doesn’t mean to stare, but it’s grown increasingly difficult to keep his eyes away when Eddie’s wearing only a towel around his waist. His pink lips match the heat in his cheeks and draw Buck in like a moth to a flame.
He reimagines what the kiss would feel like right here, right now.
“And this,” Buck kneels and grabs Eddie's face through the ropes. He plants a hard, smushed kiss dead center on Eddie’s lips, “is for good luck.”
Buck clears his throat, choking on the last bite.
Heartbreak, rejection, disappointment. That’s what he’s signing up for by entertaining those thoughts.
“It’s all yours,” Eddie gestures over his shoulder.
Buck takes the coldest shower of his life. It clears out the steam-filled bathroom immediately and cools him down in more ways than one.
It gives him enough time to expel the anxiety from his chest.
Having a handle on his thoughts, Buck reenters the bedroom with a new plan: Tell Eddie what he knows and let fate handle the rest.
They’ve been through far worse situations before. A drunk kiss is not the end-all, be-all for them. Buck won’t let it be.
Eddie lies on the right side of the bed, almost in the exact same position as Buck when he was in the shower. The granola bar sits lonely on the bedside table.
Buck gets dressed quickly before he has the chance to change his mind.
Buck’s lips press together, the words sitting on the tip of his tongue behind the locked gate. He joins Eddie, mere inches apart on the bed. They stare up at the same set of stars.
“I—”
“You kissed me last night,” Eddie interjects, voice flat. Buck’s head turns, his eyes meeting Eddie’s cheek.
“I know,” he pauses with a breath. “I remembered after I checked us in.”
Eddie won’t meet Buck’s gaze. There’s an undertone to his words, another layer Buck didn’t notice before.
“I’m sorry,” Buck continues. It feels like the right thing to say.
Eddie hums in consideration. His hands are tucked behind his head, bringing his shirt up enough for Buck to focus on the rise and fall of his chest. It wavers with an uneven cadence.
“Was it real?” Eddie asks, tightening his brows. “I mean, did you want it to be real?”
This is not the direction Buck expected this to take.
Eddie seems…earnest in his question, not like he’s calling Buck out. There’s an authentic curiosity to it that forces Buck to really consider his answer.
“I did.” The confession flows off Buck’s tongue easily. There’s no taking it back now, but even if that were an option, Buck doesn’t want to.
It’s not going to lead to anything more, so there’s no harm in being honest, other than facing his own embarrassment.
“It doesn’t have to change a thing between us,” he reassures not only Eddie but himself. He diminishes all desires and returns to the reality where they’re friends and nothing more.
“But what if it did?” Eddie replies, chest caving in with a big exhale. Buck bites his tongue back, unsure of how to respond. Those same desires reignite with the last burning ember.
Eddie’s not angry, not resentful. He’s not pent up with rage over Buck’s drunken behavior. He’s calm, even through the nervous breaths, in a way Buck hasn’t seen before.
It’s only when Eddie rolls onto his side that Buck notices a shift, and the veil between them drops.
The soft, white radiance shimmers down across Eddie’s face, catching his deep, brown eyes at the right angle to highlight the hints of gold sprinkled throughout his irises. His lashes frame them in such a way that makes them appear twice their size.
“I think I’ve wanted things to change for a long time.” Now, Eddie can’t seem to look away.
“What do you mean?” Buck asks. He mimics Eddie’s position. They both fill one half of the bed, two sides of the same coin.
Eddie breaks eye contact. His lips tighten, and he looks around the room as if he’s physically searching for his next words.
Buck slides his hand across the bed, leaving it parked between them. It’s an olive branch, should Eddie want to take it.
“It’s hard to put into words,” he chuckles, the hint of a smile breaking through his tough exterior. A tear falls from his cheek to the comforter below.
Eddie blinks away the rest and clears his throat.
Buck waits patiently. He’s usually the type to jump to conclusions, but his gut tells him to wait it out and give Eddie space to think.
“I’ve had this sinking feeling in my chest for as long as I can remember,” Eddie starts again. “It felt like the whole world knew something about me that I couldn’t let myself face.”
Eddie’s fingers rest on the bed so close that Buck can feel their warmth.
“I don’t know if it was fear or guilt, or maybe it was a mix of the two.” Eddie picks his hand up and runs it down his face.
A cool pocket of air replaces it next to Buck’s.
“My abuela said something to me just before she passed. She said I was ‘looking for love in the wrong place,’ and I don’t think I really understood what she meant…until last night.”
Buck’s eyes follow Eddie’s hand back down to the bed, where he places it atop Buck’s, soft and gentle.
“It’s you. I think it’s been you all along.” Eddie’s eyes meet Buck’s again, but Buck’s stare hasn’t wavered.
The invisible line between them fades to nothing. Their faces rest just inches apart, no longer assigned to a particular side of the bed.
“What do you want, Buck?” Eddie traces circles around the top of Buck’s hand. “You’ve been uncharacteristically quiet.”
The joke breaks the tension and draws a smile out of both of them.
“I’m just surprised, I guess,” Buck shrugs. “The whole day I thought you were mad at me for crossing a line and now…”
“Now there’s nowhere for me to hide.” Eddie brings his hand to Buck’s cheek, and Buck sinks into the warmth.
“Thank you for being honest with me,” Buck reassures him. “I’m proud of you.”
A few years ago, Buck found himself on the other side of a similar conversation. He knows how scary it is, even when you know the person on the other side of it will accept you with open arms.
Eddie’s laid it all out, and now he waits for Buck’s answer to the pending question.
Hook, line, and sinker. A door of possibilities bursts open.
The scar on Eddie’s lip acts as a landing point. Buck takes a leap of faith and transforms his subconscious wants into conscious actions.
His hand slides across the bed and up to Eddie’s waist, finding a perfect notch to rest on. Buck tightens his grip ever so slightly as he dives into the kiss. Eddie’s abs flex with surprise at the touch, but contract as he settles into Buck’s lips.
The kiss last night was real in every sense of the word, but this one is different. It’s alive with its own fiery passion.
Their bodies press closer together until they’re fully intertwined in the center of the bed. They move in harmony, both understanding that caution has become an afterthought.
No alcohol is needed for their walls to come crashing down.
Eddie’s tender kiss provides all the courage Buck needs to continue with confidence.
Their shadows dance across the walls, backlit by the brilliance of the stars.
Buck pulls away, placing one last kiss on the tip of Eddie’s nose.
“I want this to be real,” Buck whispers. Head hazy with euphoria. “All of it.”
“It is,” Eddie matches his volume.
“Then why does it feel like a dream?”
Eddie runs his hand behind Buck’s ear and through his hair. He scratches at the back of Buck’s head, sending the sensation down his back. “It’s not.”
Buck’s face flushes red. There’s so much to say, but his tongue ties itself into a lovesick knot.
With their heads against the soft pillows, Eddie finds a resting spot against Buck’s shoulder.
Buck slips his arm out and wraps it around Eddie, kissing the top of his head with the motion. Eddie turns and catches Buck’s lips as he pulls away.
The initiation takes Buck a second to process, but once he does, they fall back into the familiar rhythm.
Eddie’s hands drift under Buck’s shirt. His nails press into Buck’s back, finding a weak spot.
Buck winces, fracturing the kiss with a sharp inhale. Eddie immediately shoots back.
“Is this okay?” He asks, hastily. “Because if it’s not, we can stop.”
“No, no,” Buck replies quickly. He readjusts himself, and the pain settles. He brings a careful thumb to Eddie’s bottom lip. “Just the consequence of my eagerness to ride the bull.”
Eddie’s face softens, excitement returning to it with a blush of the cheeks. Buck guides his chin forward until they’re right back where they belong. Eddie keeps his hand behind Buck’s neck so to not unintentionally break them apart again.
“Promise me it’ll be like this when we wake up tomorrow,” Eddie says, eyes memorizing every inch of Buck’s face.
With Eddie’s confession, they’ve crossed the border into the previously forbidden land of something more. The thought of this being an isolated event never once crossed Buck’s mind.
He’s all in.
“I promise.” Those two words hold so much weight. Long ago, Bobby warned him to never make a promise he couldn’t keep.
This is one he’s sure he can.
“And when we’re home,” Buck kisses Eddie’s brow bone, “I’m taking you dancing.”
“As if you could keep up with these hips,” Eddie smirks.
Suddenly, Buck’s grateful for the tire trouble that brought them to this tiny motel in the middle of God knows where. He’s grateful for the bed that nearly gave him a heart attack upon first glance.
If they kept driving, he'd still be wondering what happened the night before.
This is a million times better.
They fall asleep in each other's arms, two souls sharing the same space. Star-crossed, but able to find each other under the clear moonlight.
When they wake, they both still feel the same. If any uncertainty remains, it’s quieted by the touch of a hand or the placement of a soft kiss.
They drive off, leaving drunken memories and doubt behind them at the little motel somewhere off Interstate 40.