Archive of Our Own

Buck is sitting on the edge of the bed in their shared hotel room, paid for by the Inter-State Firefighting Union, when he sees it. Sticking out of Eddie’s unzipped duffel bag is the wide brim of a brown-ish gray cowboy hat.

“Uh, what’s that?” Buck asks, jumping to his feet and crossing the small room, though he already knows the answer to his question. By the time Eddie turns to look at him from where he’s been lining up his toothpaste and hair gel at the sink, Buck is already holding the suede hat up in the air with a mischievous smile on his face.

“It’s a hat,” Eddie says plainly, looking at Buck like he’s crazy.

Buck scoffs, rolling his eyes as he lifts the hat another inch or two so that it’s level with his face. “Obviously, I know that. I mean why did you bring it?”

“We’re in Nashville,” Eddie replies, as if that’s an explanation for the fact that he has a cowboy hat tucked into his luggage when Buck has literally never seen him wear one before.

“I didn’t even know you had a cowboy hat,” Buck grins, spinning it a few times in his hands, eyes tracing the braided leather rope fastened around it.

“I’m from Texas, Buck, I have multiple cowboy hats. But we live in LA, it’s not exactly the cowboy hat demographic.” Eddie shrugs, raising an eyebrow as he watches Buck run a finger along the crease of the brim. “I figured this is as good an excuse as any to bring one out.”

Buck nods, feeling a little silly for being so transfixed by this very normal hat, but he can’t help but smile when his eyes catch on the little ‘Edmundo Diaz’ stitched into the inside lining. “How long have you had this one?”

“Oh, I’m not sure,” Eddie rubs a hand along the back of his neck, eyes casting upwards in thought for a few seconds, before he seems to land on the answer. “Since high school, definitely. Maybe when I was fifteen or sixteen?”

Buck nods, rubbing his thumb along the letters, pressing down for a few seconds and feeling the raised thread of the D in Diaz leave an indent against his thumbprint. When he doesn’t respond, Eddie keeps going.

“It’s the one I wore to Adriana’s first communion, and to Soph’s quince.” Buck looks up from the hat to see Eddie smiling softly as his eyes stay locked on the hat in Buck’s hands.

Buck clears his throat, awkwardly dropping the hat back on top of Eddie’s duffel. He doesn’t know why, but it almost feels like he shouldn’t be touching it— like it belongs to an Eddie that Buck has no right to. “Wow, uh, you must have a lot of memories with it.”

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes out, his eyes tracking the jerky movement of Buck’s hands and landing on the hat for a few seconds before blinking heavily, shaking his head softly. Then he looks back up and smiles again, eyes staying on Buck’s face this time. “But, um, I’m ready for some new ones.”

***

It is truly, genuinely ridiculous how great Eddie looks in this goddamn cowboy hat. Buck almost has trouble believing that he’s never seen Eddie wear one before, because it feels like he’s meant to always have one on his head– that’s how great it looks.

When Eddie had stepped out of the bathroom with his hair roughly blow-dried and a towel hung around his waist, he had looked good. When he had been hunched over in just a pair of boxers, still shirtless, to tug on a pair of dark, loose-fitting jeans, he had looked good. When he had slid the brown leather belt with the slightly flashy belt buckle through the loops of his jeans, he had looked good. And when he had been buttoning up his soft, jean-colored flannel and tucking it into his waistband haphazardly, he had looked good.

But sweet jesus, when he had pulled on his scuffed up brown leather boots and, to top it all off, slotted his brown suede cowboy hat onto his head, Buck had almost fallen to his knees right there in the doorway of their tiny hotel room.

Now, they’re standing side-by-side at an open rooftop bar in a random part of Nashville, and Buck can’t get himself to stop staring at Eddie in his stupid cowboy hat. He keeps getting this strange urge to reach out and run a fingertip along the stitched brim of it, or to push the few stray hairs back in from where they had slipped out onto Eddie’s forehead. Those are, obviously, very insane things to do, so Buck keeps fighting both of those urges.

Buck watches intently as Eddie tips his head back and downs the last of his beer, his throat working as he swallows. As he rights himself, standing back up straight and placing his empty bottle onto the small extended railing they were leaning against, he looks at Buck. A slight, sly smile takes over his face as he raises an eyebrow. “You want another beer?”

“Oh, uh,” Buck stutters, feeling his face heat up at being caught staring. He casts his eyes down, looking at his own beer that’s only half-empty– he had been too caught up in staring at his best friend to keep up with their normal drinking pace. “I still, uh, have to finish mine.”

“Okay,” Eddie chuckles brightly, taking a step back and grabbing onto his empty bottle again. “You sure? I’m gonna go get another.”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Buck forces out, doing his best to sound assured as his ears automatically fixate on the quiet click of Eddie’s boots as he walks away. Buck can’t help but watch. The boots give him this sort of sauntering stride, his feet kicking out casually as he steps, and the slightly raised heels on them are doing insane favors for his ass, which is already insane on any other non-boot-wearing day.

Once Eddie gets to the bar that’s all the way on the other side of the rooftop, he raises the hat off of his head and pushes his hair back with one hand, the fingers carding through easily, before settling the hat back on. God, they’re only one drink in and it already seems like Eddie is moving in slow motion. Buck is going to drop dead at this rate– cause of death: Eddie Diaz and his stupid cowboy hat.

Buck forces himself to look away, shaking his head as if he can dislodge whatever it is in his brain that’s making him drool over the sight of his best friend wearing a cowboy hat. It’s just Eddie, he reminds himself. Eddie is objectively hot, you already knew that, so stop being so goddamn weird about it. It’s just a hat, and it’s just Eddie. You can do this.

***

Buck can absolutely not do this. Eddie comes back from the bar with shots. Multiple shots. Apparently the bartender and Eddie had figured out that they’re both from Texas, and she had insisted on the free booze. So now, what had been meant to be a chill night at a sophisticated rooftop bar, has now quickly progressed into both of them being significantly more drunk than they had planned to be.

They’re both one beer and two shots in, and they’ve slowly gravitated back towards the bar. They’re chattering back and forth with the bartender, Layla, who seems sweet, if not a little young to be tending bar in the first place– though Buck supposes that people probably thought that same about him back during his nomad years.

She tells them that she goes to college in the area, bartending to make some extra cash since her rent just got raised, and that Eddie being from Texas feels like ‘a little slice of home.’

She supplies them with another free shot, pushing Buck from ‘tipsy’ to ‘almost drunk,’ and then she asks them how long they’ve known each other.

“Been partners for nine years now,” Eddie replies, a wide smile stretching across his face as he looks at Buck. “Took some breaks here and there, but we just can’t seem to stay away from each other.”

Buck’s eyes latch back onto Eddie’s face as he launches into the story of the first shift they worked together, the words warbling before they hit his ears. Eddie’s face is starting to flush pink, as it always does when he drinks hard liquor, and he’s unfastenning an extra button on his shirt as he talks. He keeps throwing sideways looks at Buck as he tells the story, maybe expecting him to jump in at some point, but each time all Buck can get himself to do is nod, taking in the sight beside him.

It’s midnight by the time shot number four rolls around, and Buck’s head is swimming pleasantly. Layla has bid their conversation farewell in order to help out the other patrons as the bar steadily fills up, leaving with some comment about getting Buck home before he drops to his knees in the middle of the bar. Eddie’s flush goes from pink to red at the joke, so it must be funny, but Buck doesn’t really get it– he’s still standing just fine, plus he’s not even an unsturdy drunk in the first place.

Either way, Eddie throws down a fifty for Layla’s tip and hooks a hand in the crook of Buck’s elbow, starting to steer him out of the bar. Buck lets himself be led, only pulling his arm free when they’re back out on the street. “I’m not that drunk, you know, you don’t have to hold me up or anything.”

“I know,” Eddie says, nodding as he reluctantly drops his hand from where it had been holding onto Buck. “I was- I didn’t think you were.”

Buck just hums, nodding back as they start to walk side by side down the sidewalk– very steadily, if Buck does say so himself. His eyes track Eddie’s steps beside him, the click of each step even more audible now that they were out in the open. At one point they pass by a rowdy group of college kids, a couple of them stumbling concerningly close to Buck as they yelled at each other, and Eddie presses a hand to Buck’s lower back to guide him onto his opposite side.

Once the group fully passes, and Buck is now walking between Eddie and the buildings instead of next to the street, the warmth of Eddie’s hand stays resting against Buck’s back. Buck holds his breath, waiting for Eddie to sever the contact, but he doesn’t. He just keeps his palm fitted right against Buck’s shirt, just above the waistband of his jeans, and they continue walking back to their hotel.

Buck’s eyes lift from Eddie’s boots, landing on the belt buckle, trying to make out the image pressed into it, but at this angle it just looks like abstract shapes. Before he even realizes he’s going to speak, he asks, “What’s on your belt buckle?”

Eddie’s steps falter for a split second, one of his boots scuffing against the cement, but he recovers quickly. “It’s silly,” he says quietly, using his free hand to grab onto the silver buckle and tilt it up slightly. “It’s a cowboy with a lasso. When I was a kid, before ballroom dance, um… I wanted to be a cowboy. Like, the rodeo kind.”

Buck can’t help the smile that pulls against his cheeks, the image in his head is too cute— a young Eddie buying a silver belt buckle because he wanted to be a cowboy. “It’s not silly, it’s sweet. I like it.”

Eddie smiles at that, ducking his head as he lets the buckle go, and Buck can feel the thumb against his back slide up and down a few times. The smile on Eddie’s face stays put as he raises his head again, keeping his eyes scanning the street and the people around them.

In the comfortable silence between them, Buck goes back to staring. Eddie had undone another button at some point before they had left the bar, and his shirt stays open now, showing the smooth skin of his collarbones and the hair on the center of his chest. He had foregone his daily shave before they had left for Nashville, so the lower half of his face is stubbly now, and it makes the line between jaw and neck look even sharper than normal. There are some strands of hair that have slipped out from Eddie’s hat again, unruly and a little bit waved from sweat, and they fall perfectly against his temples.

It takes a few moments for Buck to realize that Eddie is looking back at him, only noticing when his staring reaches Eddie’s eyes and their gazes lock. Eddie is still smiling, his eyes crinkly and soft, and he cocks his head as he speaks. “What’s that look, huh? You’ve had it all night.”

“You look really good.” The words tumble out of him before he has the chance to stop them. Eddie blinks at him, the obvious shock of Buck’s words making his smile falter just a tiny bit.

Buck’s eyes widen, and he sucks in a sharp breath. Oh god, he hadn’t meant to say that. That’s what he’s been trying not to say this entire night. In a desperate attempt to save his own ass, Buck scrabbles to find an excuse. “It. Ahem, sorry, it looks really good. The hat. Like, cool, the whole vibe is cool. Wish I had one.”

Buck pushes out a shaky laugh, clearing his throat again as he plasters an awkward smile onto his face. Eddie’s hand on his back shifts a few inches upward and to the side, further towards Eddie himself, as he turns his eyes away as he nods.

“Well, we could get you one, you know?” Eddie suggests, doing a terrible job at sounding unaffected by whatever it was that just happened a second ago. “There’s bound to be a shop somewhere that could take your measurements.”

“Measurements? For my head?” Buck asks, the genuine confusion at the concept just barely cutting through the tension.

“Yeah, I mean I guess we could just try a bunch and hope one fits, but you gotta get it fitted if you want a nice one.” Eddie shrugs, and then to Buck’s terrible dismay, fully removes his hand from Buck’s back and shoves it into his pockets.

Buck might be frowning, or maybe even pouting, but he can’t be sure. He shakes his head, looking sideways to find that Eddie has his face dropped towards the floor again. “Nah, that’s okay. I don’t have anywhere to wear it after this trip, anyways. It wouldn’t make sense to get one.”

Eddie turns his head, not holding eye contact at all but still looking in the general direction of Buck’s face as he says, “Well, if you change your mind, we’ll find you one. And, um…” he pauses, trailing off for a beat before finishing with, “you could always wear mine, if you want.”

“Really?” Buck gasps slightly, his smile spreading back onto his face. Eddie just nods, and he’s smiling again too. “Thanks.”

***

The firefighter games don’t go great the next day, what with the hangover headache, but Buck presumes that’s what he gets for having four shots and a beer the night before an invite-only inter-state skills competition. Well, to be fair, the games don’t go badly— Buck and Eddie end up in second place, only losing to the duo with home team advantage, but Buck knows that they could have won if they had been in tip-top shape.

Still, they technically medaled silver, and after a two hour nap and a shower, Buck and Eddie are now heading out to have celebratory drinks with the first place duo’s firehouse. Eddie is once again wearing his stupid cowboy hat, and Buck is once again trying not to drool as he watches him simply walk around their hotel room. Just as Buck is getting ready to walk out the door, Eddie stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Oh wait! I almost forgot,” Eddie says, spinning on his booted-heels and rifling through hangers and clothes, looking for something in the back of the closet. He’s facing away from Buck, bent at the hips, which is a view that’s extremely unhelpful in tamping down Buck’s brain’s new stubborn fascination with staring at Eddie.

From inside the closet, Buck hears Eddie let out a quiet ‘aha!’ as he rights himself, spinning and holding something behind his back. Buck raises an eyebrow, craning his neck to try and see what Eddie’s hiding from him. “Whatcha got there, Eddie?”

“Close your eyes,” Eddie grins, his boots shuffling against the rough carpet as he takes a few steps towards him. Buck sighs in submission– there’s really no reason to not trust Eddie in the first place, anyways. He closes his eyes, tilting his head somewhat dramatically, and then holds out his hands expectantly. As Eddie walks fully into his space though, so close he can feel the warmth radiating off of him, nothing drops into his outstretched hands. Instead, he feels a whoosh of air as Eddie raises his arms quickly, securing what feels suspiciously like a cowboy hat onto Buck’s head.

“Hold on, keep ’em closed,” Eddie mutters, grabbing Buck by both shoulders and maneuvering him a few steps in the other direction, planting him where he wants him. “Okay, open.”

When Buck opens his eyes, he’s facing the mirror in their room– and as always, his eyes land on Eddie in the reflection before they even land on himself. Eddie is smiling brightly, animatedly nodding with his eyebrows raised and a wild look in his eyes. “You like it?”

The words sound unserious, like Eddie’s not actually expecting Buck to like the hat that’s perched on his head, but when his eyes finally find himself in the mirror, Buck actually really does. Sure, it’s gaudy and shiny and very bachelorette-party-esque, but it’s fun. A smile creeps onto Buck’s face as he tilts his head around, the dim lights in their room bouncing off the fractured mirrors covering the hat, and he nods. “I do, actually. When did you even have time to get this?”

When Buck flicks his eyes back to Eddie in the mirror, he looks pleasantly surprised. “Oh, um, well you slept for like two hours today so I had to find something to do.”

“What, so you decided to use your free time to go find me a discoball cowboy hat?”

“Well, you seemed to want one last night,” Eddie shrugs, and he almost seems shy in the way he casts his eyes downward. “And you said you wouldn’t have any use for a nice one, so I figured this one would be funny. You don’t actually have to wear it.”

“Uh, I’m absolutely gonna wear it, you got it for me,” Buck says defensively, pulling the hat down until it was secured on him. He spins around with a smile, facing Eddie instead of the mirror, and stretches out his arms in a silent ‘well, how does it look?’

“You look good,” Eddie says softly, eyes scanning over Buck’s face. Then, in a striking moment of deja vu, he clears his throat heavily and says, “It. It looks good. Very fun.”

Buck nods dazedly, eyes still locked on Eddie’s, and his breath catches as he feels Eddie’s hand wrap around his waist to settle on his lower back, just like he had done the night before. Eddie uses the hand to nudge him towards the door, silently opening it and ushering Buck out into the hallway. He just lets himself be led.

***

Nashville 113 firehouse is made up of some pretty cool people, it turns out. The night started out a little stilted and awkward, but the ice was fully broken by the time the two brothers told the telenovela-level story about how they found out about each other’s existence. Eddie had, of course, been on the edge of his seat, and Buck was honestly just surprised he hadn’t caught him secretly texting Pepa to tell her about it.

Buck is feeling a very pleasant buzz now, three drinks in and strictly sticking to beer since he can’t even stomach the thought of drinking any type of hard alcohol right now. Eddie, on the other hand, seems to be feeling a little further along on the drunkenness scale than Buck is. He’s always had a bit of a higher tolerance than Buck, but he’s also been drinking these neon green mixed drinks all night, so he’s looking just a little past tipsy.

He’s in what seems like a very involved conversation with Roxie, one of the 113’s paramedics that Buck hasn’t had a chance to talk to yet, and Buck can see the determination in Eddie’s face as they chatter back and forth. At one point she even lays a hand on Eddie’s arm, and Eddie brings his own hand up to grab onto it for a second. It makes Buck’s stomach roll with something he isn’t able to name.

He’s been staring uninterrupted for what’s probably been minutes, the feeling in his stomach only getting more torturous as the seconds pass, when he feels a hand on his own shoulder. It breaks him out of his one-sided staring contest with the side of Eddie’s face, and he turns, met with one of the brothers from the 113– the blond one. Ryan, he thinks.

“Hey, man,” he says, giving a tight lipped smile to Buck before throwing his eyes over Buck’s shoulder. “I hate to ask this, but what’s Eddie’s deal?”

“His- his deal?” Buck repeats, the question throwing him off. What could that possibly mean?

“Yeah, like… Don’t get me wrong, he seems like a cool guy, but I wouldn’t be doing my job as Roxie’s friend if I didn’t ask.” He’s still eyeing Eddie over Buck’s shoulder as he speaks, then he turns back to Buck with an apologetic look on his face.

“What- sorry, what do you mean ‘his deal?’” Buck repeats again, and he’s starting to feel a little frustrated if he’s being honest. “He’s great, like, the best person I know. Why?”

“I just mean– like, really, I don’t mean any offense– but some guys are really weird about lesbians, you know?”

Okay, now Buck is really confused. “Wait, who’s a lesbian?”

“Roxie.” Ryan speaks slowly, really enunciating each of the two syllables of her name. “Which is why I’m making sure she’s good with your guy.”

“Oh…” Buck says quietly, turning back to watch as Eddie and Roxie still talk closely. Suddenly, that rolling feeling in Buck’s stomach subsides. “Oh! Oh, no! He’s totally cool, no, you don’t have to worry about that.”

Ryan nods skeptically for a second, probably put off by Buck’s frantic, frazzled tone, and of course Buck takes that as his cue to keep going. “No, really. One of our best friends, Hen, is a lesbian! And I’m bisexual! We’re totally cool, really.”

“Right…” Ryan trails off, still nodding as he looks between Eddie and Buck. “Right, okay. So then why have you been keeping such a close eye on him?”

Buck feels his face heat up instantly, huffing out a breath as he drops his head. God, he must have been so obvious if this guy he literally just met is noticing. He stutters, trying to get some type of sentence out, but all he manages is bits and pieces. “Oh, well- he’s just- I just- I’m, uh, yeah…”

When he finally manages the confidence to look back up at Ryan, the guy is failing at fighting a smile, sucking his lips into a straight line as he nods knowingly. “Nevermind, man, sorry to push.”

“No, I- I don’t-” Buck starts, but Ryan drops a hand onto his shoulder again, shaking his head.

“Seriously, you’re all good, I should’ve thought about it a little harder before I brought it up.” He squeezes Buck’s shoulder once, giving it a little friendly shake as he adds, “So, you and Eddie, huh?”

Right as Buck is about to open his mouth and say no, there’s no me and Eddie, he’s cut off by the man himself. “Me and Buck what?”

He turns to find Eddie and Roxie behind them, walking further into their space, with wide smiles. Buck fishmouths, opening and closing his jaw as no words make their way out. Luckily, Ryan cuts in again and saves him.

“Oh, I was just asking about your guys’ firehouse, the partners and stuff.” Buck nods in agreement, throwing a grateful look at Ryan as he lets out an ungraceful laugh.

“I’m assuming you’re Buck, I’ve heard a lot about you in the last hour,” Roxie says, tipping her head back to look him in the eye as she reaches her hand out for him to shake. “I’m Roxie.”

“Hi,” Buck says dumbly, shaking her hand on autopilot. “Uh, nice to meet you.”

“I like your hat.” She just smiles at him, almost like she was expecting him to be a little caught off guard, and he doesn’t really know what to do with that.

“Oh, thanks! Eddie got it for me today.”

She raises an eyebrow at him like he just said something incriminating, before turning the look onto Eddie beside her. “Oh, I’m sure he did.”

Eddie must be a little more drunk than Buck had thought he was, because when Buck goes to send a questioning look at him, Eddie’s face is flushed red. He coughs slightly, turning to Buck with a tense smile as he asks, “Do you want another drink?”

Once again, Eddie’s hand finds the small of Buck’s back, and he’s being guided towards the bar before he’s even answered the question. This bar is much busier than the one last night had been, given that it’s a Friday night and they’re a little further towards downtown, so Eddie has to trail behind Buck as they shuffle through the room.

Without thinking, Buck reaches his hand back and grabs onto Eddie’s wrist, keeping the hand pressed firmly against his back as he leads them to the bar. Once they reach the bar, Buck knows that there’s no logical excuse to keep hanging onto Eddie’s wrist, especially not once Eddie’s hand drops from Buck’s back, but he can’t seem to get himself to let go.

Their hands sway unsurely between them, connected by his continued grip, but Eddie doesn’t seem put off by it. He just sidles up beside Buck at the bar, their shoulders pressed together as they lean forward to get the bartender's attention, and Eddie orders for both of them without even having to think about it.

Eddie hands him his new beer, smiling warmly, and when their fingers brush as it passes between them, Buck feels hot all over. Lord, he really has to get it together. Eddie brings his straw to his lips, taking a sip of his offputtingly green drink— something called a Tokyo Tea, whatever that is— and turns fully toward Buck. He leans his arm against the bar, cocking his head as his eyes scan over Buck’s face. “Are you having fun?”

Buck stares for a few seconds, his eyes tracing over Eddie’s jaw where the stubble has turned into the beginnings of some actual facial hair, before nodding and swallowing a little louder than he means to. “Yeah, but I could have fun with you anywhere.”

Eddie’s eyes crinkle, a small laugh pushing out of his nose as he reaches up and adjusts the hat on his head a little, his other hand still captured by Buck’s. The action brings Buck’s attention to the stupid cowboy hat again, and he keeps his eyes on it as he slowly raises his beer and takes a sip, only bringing his eyes back down to Eddie’s as he places the bottle down again.

“You really do like this hat, huh?” Eddie asks, a crooked grin tugging at one corner of his mouth. Buck nods, dropping his gaze to the table and fiddling with the label of his beer. Then, with no warning, Eddie drops his hand and uses it to pull Buck’s hat off of his head.

Buck’s eyes widen, automatically raising his hands to rake his fingers through his hair— he’s been wearing this hat for hours, his curls are definitely messed up like crazy. “Hey, what the-”

His words are cut off as Eddie pulls his own hat off his head, leaning forward as he lets the nice suede slide onto Buck’s curls instead. Eddie’s hair falls limp over his forehead, looking smushed and soft, but before Buck can do something stupid like run his hands through it, Eddie settles the discoball hat onto his own head.

Distantly, Buck is pretty sure that someone around them gasps, but he’s not really registering anything other than Eddie’s hands as they simultaneously fiddle with the two hats. “Eddie, you- this one’s yours, you don’t have to…”

“I was going to let you wear it tonight, anyways,” Eddie shrugs, eyes locked on Buck as he finishes adjusting his hat, only dropping his hands when he decides that it’s sitting properly on Buck’s head. “There! Looks better on you than it does on me.”

“I don’t really think that’s possible,” Buck says through a laugh, seeing as Eddie’s face lights up even more.

“You saying I look good in a cowboy hat, Buckley?” The words would normally be teasing, but it feels so sincere as Eddie says it, like he really wants to know the answer. And he deserves to know, doesn’t he? He deserves to hear that he looks good— that’s always a nice thing to hear, right?

Buck nods, blinking lightly a few times. “Yeah, of course you do. There’s no way you don’t know that already.”

“Well, you look good in one too.”

***

Buck wakes up the next morning with his mind already racing. He’s not hungover this time— which, thank god— but from the moment he opens his eyes, his brain is supplying him with flashes of every confusing thing that has happened over the last two days.

He used to be normal about Eddie. He knows he used to be normal about Eddie because ever since Buck came out, he very consciously has been putting effort into not making Eddie uncomfortable in the slightest. He doesn’t let his touches linger— or his looks for that matter— and he keeps a respectful distance when it comes to Eddie’s dating life.

Long gone are the days when Buck would say things like ‘that’s not how you talk about someone you’re in love with’ or, the worst one when he thinks back on his history of providing dating advice, ‘I wish I could help’ in regards to Eddie’s inability to have sex with his girlfriend. Now that he thinks about it, he really doesn’t know how that one flew under the radar without raising any alarm bells in his head.

But now, as he lays with his back against the hotel bed and squints against the curtains as they do nothing to block out the early morning sun, oh boy are those alarm bells ringing.

Apparently, all it took was Eddie Diaz and his stupid cowboy hat to crumble the very carefully constructed wall that Buck had built between himself and his feelings. Because that’s what this is: feelings. It’s not a silly little ‘wow, Eddie looks good in a cowboy hat.’

It’s a ‘wow, I totally have very serious feelings for my best friend.’

And, god, people had noticed last night. Eddie’s just having fun, trying to enjoy himself on this very rare occasion where he gets to take a trip, and Buck has to go and be weird about it. All of the staring and the stuttering and the half-accidental compliments— no one would say it to his face, and god knows Eddie is far too nice to either, but he was being weird.

So now he has a whole two days left in Nashville where he has to try to act normal, not to mention their entire roadtrip back to LA which was technically Eddie’s idea, but only because he knows that Buck doesn’t like flying all that much.

Whatever, he’s gone years without making a fool of himself– well, in relation to his friendship with Eddie, at least– so he can manage for a few more days. He can get up out of bed and have a normal day with his best friend on this free vacation.

Of course, because the universe loves to mock him, the first thing he’s met with when he turns the corner into the bathroom is Eddie, shirtless and wearing his cowboy hat. Of course.

As Buck stands there, dumbfounded and frozen with his ears definitely turning pink, Eddie just throws a smile at him through the bathroom mirror. “Hey, can I borrow a shirt? I didn’t think we would be doing this much stuff while we were here.”

Buck, with his newly realized feelings and his brain still completely uncaffeinated for the day, just stares open-mouthed at Eddie and nods.

“Thanks,” Eddie says, dragging his straight razor against his jaw, the shaving cream making way for smooth skin. Seriously, Buck thinks to himself, who shaves in a cowboy hat? This has to be some form of torture, specifically designed just for him.

Eddie takes the bath towel that’s draped over his bare shoulder and wets it in the sink, bringing it up to dab the remnants of shaving cream off of his cheeks. Buck watches, mesmerized at Eddie’s practiced movements. There’s not a single missed hair or bleeding cut as Eddie drops the towel from his face. It’s almost unfair how competent he is– Eddie had once tried to teach Buck how to use a straight razor and Buck had nicked himself so much that he’s never dared to try again.

Eddie folds the towel quickly and places it onto his side of the sink counter, turning towards the bathroom door, before Buck stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“You, uh…” Buck starts, eyes fixed on the single spot of shaving cream still sticking to the skin next to Eddie’s ear. He should really move his hand, but Eddie’s shoulder is warm, and it feels nice beneath his palm. “You missed a spot.”

Eddie blinks up at him, something like a hum making its way out of his chest, and instead of turning back to the sink to use the towel, he just tilts his head towards Buck and waits. Buck’s fingers tighten on Eddie’s shoulder for a split second, almost like a reflex, as Buck lifts his other hand. His fingers rest carefully against the side of Eddie’s neck– strictly for stability, of course– as he slowly slides his thumb against the spot of shaving cream. Even after the spot is cleared, both his hands stay where they are, the contact of skin on skin making him feel buzzy and hot.

“Thanks,” Eddie blinks again, his mouth parting slightly as he makes no move to pull away either. “Bathroom’s all yours.”

They’re still standing so close, Buck can literally feel the puffs of Eddie’s breath on his face. He’s not even sure if he’s breathing himself right now. It would be so easy to just lean in, to use his hand that’s still on Eddie’s neck to pull him in the rest of the way. The thought makes his fingers twitch, shifting just a fraction and reaching the line of Eddie’s hair, and for some reason the contact snaps Buck out of it.

He clears his throat loudly, both hands jerking away from Eddie as he shuffles backwards. “Yeah, thanks.”

Eddie seems just as caught up in the moment as Buck was– though it’s probably just wishful thinking because that definitely can’t be right– standing stock still for a few seconds, before giving a choppy nod and turning out of the bathroom. Buck shuts the door behind him, the handle clicking as it locks, and he presses his back against the cool wood. What the hell was that? he asks himself. That was the opposite of normal, Buck.

Buck leans his head back, making a heavy thud as it hits the door behind him, and closes his eyes, trying to get his breathing under control in the still-steamy bathroom. He’s just got to get through the rest of this trip.

***

It all ends up coming to a head on their very last night in Nashville. They’re back at the first bar that they went to– the one that Layla from Texas bartends at– and it’s not very busy, seeing as it’s a Sunday night. Neither of them are really drinking much, very aware of the fact that they have a very long drive ahead of them tomorrow, so it’s just a few beers to cheers the end of their trip.

They’ve been parked at the bartop pretty much all night, nursing their beers and chatting with Layla. She really is a sweet kid. She’s been asking them about firefighting and their lives before it, and she’s been telling them about her family back home and filling them in on what they missed out on from the college experience. They even follow each other on Instagram, both Buck and Eddie telling her to give them a holler if she ever finds herself in LA.

It’s nice, a calm send off to what’s been a relatively hectic couple of days for Buck. After all, it’s not very often you’re invited on an all-expenses-paid trip to Nashville, win second place in a national firefighting competition, and realize you’re probably in love with your best friend all in the span of a week. All things considered, Buck is handling himself pretty well. So, naturally, that’s when the universe decides to throw him a curveball.

It’s about midnight when Eddie gets up to use the bathroom, leaving his barstool empty next to Buck. All it takes is thirty seconds before someone else sits down beside him– a woman, maybe mid-twenties, with curly, bright blonde hair and silver sparkles all over her eyelids.

“Hey, I’m Andie,” she says with a smile as she slides herself onto Eddie’s seat. She holds her hand out for Buck to shake, and he does because it feels rude not to. “What’s your name?”

“Uh, Buck.” He says it like he’s confused, like there’s a question mark at the end, as she keeps gripping onto his hand in a very long shake.

“You don’t sound too sure about that, Buck,” she laughs, finally dropping his hand and eyeing him a little too obviously for his liking.

He sends her a tight smile, pulling his hand back to his beer glass and gripping onto it tightly. “No, I just- Uh, you caught me off guard, that’s all.”

She smiles at him curiously for a few seconds, not saying anything. Maybe she’s waiting for him to offer her a drink. Buck from a few years ago– hell, a few days ago, even– would have offered easily. But, like he said, he’s got some other things going on right now.

“O-kay…” She draws the word out when she realizes he’s not going to fill the silence, and then she turns to the side so she can face him head-on.

“So, here’s the thing. It’s my friend’s bachelorette party,” she pauses to point at one of the women she’s with, and Buck turns his head to find the entire group watching with giddy smiles. “And we all have a bucket list item we need to complete each night.”

Buck nods slowly, raising an eyebrow at her. He’s definitely been objectified more times than he could count in his life, but never has he been reduced to a bucket list item. She just keeps going with her proposition, ignoring the look on his face.

“And my task tonight is to take home a random man’s cowboy hat. And it just so happens that yours matches my makeup perfectly.” She smiles charmingly at him, her eyes flicking up to the hat that’s perched on his head, before settling back onto his face. Then, completely nonchalantly, she adds, “Doesn’t hurt that you're one of the hottest guys I’ve seen this whole weekend.”

He scoffs almost involuntarily, then rushes to cover it up with an awkward cough. He brings his hand up to his mouth, coughing into his fist for good measure, before responding. “Just the hat, huh?”

“I mean, unless you’re offering up something else with it,” she supplies easily, her eyes dropping from his face to very obviously rake over his chest and arms.

He scoffs again, not even bothering to cover it up this time, and leans back a little. “Just the hat.”

“Hey, I’ll take whatever wins I can get,” she says, raising her hands up in mock-innocence. Buck sighs, biting one side of his mouth in slight annoyance. It’s not like he’s ever going to wear this hat again once they leave Nashville– that was the whole point of getting a fun one anyways, right? If he can make some lady’s bucket-list dreams come true, then why the hell not? He might as well share the fun.

With one single nod, he pulls the hat off of his own head and places it on hers, and with a sigh he offers a simple, “Tell your friend I say congrats.”

“I will, thanks,” she grins, adjusting the hat so that it’s sitting comfortably, then drops her hand onto his shoulder. “Have a good night, Buck.”

With that, she spins herself around on the barstool and hops down, walking back to her friends. Buck shakes his head, smiling to himself. This trip just keeps getting weirder, it seems like.

When he turns back towards the bar, Layla is looking at him like he’s crazy, shaking her head disapprovingly. He’s about to ask her what’s wrong, why she’s looking at him like he just committed some heinous act, when suddenly Eddie walks back in from the hallway of bathrooms.

Buck turns to greet him, but the look on Eddie’s face stops him in his tracks. He looks confused at first, seeing the distinct lack of a discoball cowboy hat on Buck’s head. Then, as his eyes scan the room and see Buck’s hat sitting on the head of some random woman, the confusion is gone, and his face cycles through a myriad of emotions. Disbelief. Anger. Disappointment. And, most prominently, hurt. He looks really fucking hurt.

“Eddie,” Buck says, extending a hand out towards him, but Eddie stays put just out of reach. Refusing to meet Buck’s eyes, he takes his wallet out of his pocket and throws a fifty onto the bartop, and then he walks away without a word.

Buck scrambles after him. Out of the door, down the stairs, through the weird corridor that leads to the building's exit, out onto the less-than-busy street corner. He calls Eddie’s name no less than six times throughout the chase, but Eddie keeps his head resolutely straight, never looking back at Buck.

Finally, by the time he reaches the next street corner, Buck catches up to him. He curls his hand around the bend of his elbow, stopping him before he can cross the street again, and tugs until Eddie spins around to face him. “Eddie, what the hell.”

Eddie’s chest is heaving, though Buck can’t tell if it’s from emotion or from the hundred-yard dash he just sped through. “Yeah actually, my thoughts exactly– what the hell.”

“What?” Buck’s voice comes out frustrated, his mouth still hanging open as he waits for Eddie to say something that might ease his confusion. “Why are you mad?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Eddie says, the sarcasm dripping in his voice, before he spits out, “where’s your hat, Buck?”

Buck almost laughs, the situation feeling just a little absurd as they stand on the corner and fight about a hat. “Seriously? It’s about the hat?”

“I got it for you.” Eddie’s anger seems to be subsiding a little bit, at least, his voice evening out.

“Okay, I’ll pay you back,” Buck offers. He hadn’t thought it had cost that much– Eddie had bought in on a whim, after all– but maybe he had been wrong about that.

“It’s not about–” Eddie cuts himself off with a frustrated groan, taking an exaggerated breath as he presses his lips into a line and looks off to the side for a moment. “It’s not about the money, Buck. The cowboy hat stuff actually means something.”

Buck’s face must be doing a good job of showing his confusion, because Eddie’s anger seems to diminish by the second as he realizes that Buck really has no idea what’s going on.

“What does that even mean– it means something?”

“You don’t just go around letting anyone wear your hat.” Eddie shakes his head, disbelief taking over as he huffs out a breath. “It’s like a possessive thing, it means you're spoken for.”

“Okay, I didn’t know that,” Buck defends, his voice pleading as he throws his hands out in front of him. Then, gesturing towards Eddie, he added, “I mean, you let me wear yours.”

“Yeah, I did.”

They’re both silent as the weight of Eddie’s words settles in the air between them. Eddie is just standing there across from him, taking shaky breaths, as they both wait for something unknown.

Surely that can’t mean what Buck thinks it means. He’s been losing his mind this entire trip, trying to make things go back to the way they were before he saw Eddie in his stupid cowboy hat. There’s no way he’s been having this fight with himself, and all the while Eddie has been right there in it with him.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed it, too.” Eddie is the one who breaks the silence. “All the staring and the touching. I mean, I– something shifted, Buck. There’s no way you don’t feel it too.”

Buck feels like he’s cemented to the ground, like he’s unable to move in any direction other than where they are right now. Any step he takes could be the thing that breaks whatever it is that’s hanging precariously in this moment.

“I’ve been trying to- this whole week, I mean, I’ve been trying to show you that it’s okay.”

What if Eddie is saying he’s noticed that something changed for Buck? What if Buck’s misreading something? What if Eddie is just trying to placate him, make him feel better for ruining something in their friendship that can never be fixed?

I’ll love him either way, Buck thinks, and it’s almost a realization. Whatever it is that Eddie feels, Buck is going to love him regardless. This isn’t something that he can will away.

He says it so quickly that he forgets to breathe beforehand, making it come out small and breathless. “I love you.”

Now it’s Eddie’s turn to stand shocked and quiet.

“This whole trip I’ve been trying to keep myself from feeling it– or, at the very least, from showing it– but I- I can’t.” He takes a deep breath, wanting it to come out purposeful this time. “I love you.”

Eddie exhales heavily as he stands across from him, and it looks like relief. Without a single word, Eddie lifts a hand and pulls his hat off. Then, so quickly that it’s almost like he teleported the few feet between them, Eddie is settling his other hand against Buck’s jaw and pressing their lips together.

Buck’s knees buckle as the shock jolts through his entire body, and the only reason he doesn’t crumble is because Eddie has his hand– and the cowboy hat that’s still clutched in it– held steadily against the small of his back.

Buck kisses him back, of course he does. Despite the few inches of height he has over Eddie, he’s being dipped backwards as Eddie leans into him. God, this is even better than he thought it would be.

After a minute, Eddie pulls back, their faces still an inch apart as he keeps his eyes on Buck’s. “Thank God it wasn’t just me.”

He leans down again, leaving a few slow, lingering kisses against Buck’s lips, before pulling them upright. He rakes a hand through his hair, though it does nothing as the strands fall limply against his forehead again, and lifts his brown suede cowboy hat with the other hand. Instead of placing it back on his head, though, he slides it onto Buck’s. “Perfect.”

They stand like that for a few seconds, heavy breathing and small smiles being shared between them as their hands gravitate towards each other again. Finally, they fall into step together, making their way back to their hotel.

Eddie’s hand finds its place on Buck’s back again, but this time it slowly slides lower and lower until it’s fitted firmly in the back pocket of Buck’s jeans. Buck shakes his head, smiling as he fails at fighting off the blush that he’s sure is creeping up his face.

“They really aren’t joking about that southern charm, huh?” Buck jokes, angling his head to leave a kiss on Eddie’s cheek without knocking the hat off his own head.

“Oh, you have no idea,” Eddie drawls, putting on an exaggerated Texan accent as he leans into the kiss. “You know what they say about hats and cowboys, don’t you?”

“What?”

“You wear the hat…”