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The road trip is Buck’s idea, obviously. Eddie honestly can’t think of a more Buck approach to having a flight cancelled.
He kind of hates how much he likes it. He’s been having more and more trouble hiding just how much he enjoys Buck’s company, his plans, his enthusiasm. Buck’s the most important person in his life since Shannon, if he’s being honest with himself.
He tries to avoid thinking about what that comparison implies.
It’s a bit easier to push that feeling down once Buck gets them lost, and they end up in a distinctly shady diner. Like, there’s nothing really wrong with it from the outside, but the moment they walk in, Eddie’s hackles are up. He can’t put a finger on why, until he hears ‘your kind’ and ‘princess’, at which point…ah. That’s what it was. The familiar-from-his-schooldays feeling of being hunted for sport because you’re one of those.
They escape relatively unscathed, and hit the road again. Eddie is just trying to formulate a way of getting Buck to delete the entire experience from his memory when the car crashes, and it really all goes to shit.
* * * * *
Eddie hadn’t really put much thought into what he’d do if something happened to Buck. Being struck by lightning seemed so unlikely, that he’d kind of assumed Buck had used up all his bad luck in one go, and would coast along fine from then on.
He also hadn’t really contemplated the lengths he’d go to to make sure that Buck’s okay.
When he thinks about it later, and realises he was prepared to kill for him? Well, at least he never had to find out if he’d follow through on that one.
* * * * *
Attempt-number-two at the road trip looks very different. They’re both battered and bruised, they’re not on a time crunch any more, and the car is an absolute shitbox.
It’s hard to know how to set the tone of the drive.
“Want music?” Buck is fiddling with the controls, clutching an armful of snacks to his chest with his other hand.
“Yeah, but good luck getting that to work.”
“Oh shit. Yeah. right. Probably no bluetooth.”
“Want to go back to 2005 and get an aux cord?”
Buck cracks a smile at that one. Eddie tries not to savour it. He’s already worried that it might be one of the last genuine smiles he sees on Buck in a while. Honestly, it’ll be fair enough if it is - being kidnapped is about as good a reason for struggling as he can imagine. It’s already been hard enough after the last year to get through his mask. To Buck's credit, he’s been doing a pretty good impression of coping. Eddie’s even believed it himself, most days. But there’s…something. Like coming home and finding all your furniture moved two inches to the left.
Oh well. It’s not like Eddie really has a leg to stand on about holding back on telling other people about what’s going on with him.
* * * * *
“Should we stop here for lunch?”
Eddie peers out the window at the blinking neon sign for a diner, all dusty in the sunlight “I think I've had enough of small town diners for a lifetime, honestly.”
Buck hums. “...point taken. Truckstops only?”
“Copy. And as few as we can get away with, I think.”
Buck hums again, this time in agreement. “We’ve still gotta stretch as much as we can though. Swapsies driving in 30 miles?”
“I’m fine.”
“Don’t be stubborn, this is an 11 hour drive. We’re switching out. I didn’t survive getting kidnapped just to end up as roadkill because you wouldn’t share the driving.”
“...are we already making jokes about that?”
“You know what they say, if you don’t laugh you’ll cry. And god knows I’m a crier.”
Eddie’s not sure what to say to that one, but makes sure to obediently turn off in 30 miles.
* * * * *
He didn’t realise how grateful he’d been for the distraction of driving.
Since swapping out an hour and a half ago, he can’t seem to get out of his head. He doesn’t know what to do with the uneasy feeling in his chest.
They haven’t talked about it. How the man in the diner called him a princess. How the cop made obvious allusions to his relationship with Buck. How it seemed like everyone in that fucking town could see it in Eddie without him ever having said a single word to a living soul.
It’s humiliating.
It’s also terrifying. Because if there’s one secret he absolutely cannot handle anyone knowing, it’s that one. He’s guarded it so long, denied it even in his own mind for 15 years, and held it so close to his chest for another 10, that he doesn’t know how to handle so many people just…outright saying it. He thought he’d gotten used to it in school, when anything embarrassing was “gay” and that was the worst thing you could be. Then there were the snide comments if you didn’t show sufficient interest in girls. He’d learnt real quick how to avoid that, how to blend in, even when something in his heart twisted every time someone who couldn’t hide it so well would bear the brunt instead.
God, he wouldn’t go back to high school if you paid him.
But he’s an adult man. He’s a widower, and a veteran, and a dad. He’s a firefighter with nearly a decade’s experience, for god’s sake.
He’s been performing this for so long. Why is he still not good enough? How can they still tell?
He’s pulled out of his reverie by Buck's voice, but doesn’t catch what he says.
“Huh?”
Buck clears his throat uncomfortably. “I said, I’m sorry about everything.”
Eddie is nonplussed. “You’re not responsible for the weird ass town or crazy lady.”
“Yeah, but if I hadn’t gotten us lost–”
“We both know that’s never a road to go down. What happens happens. There’s not much you can do to avoid it.”
There’s a beat of silence, and Buck fiddles absently with the air conditioning vent. “Yeah.” He pauses, then takes in a breath like he’s about to say something else. Seems to think better of it. Shakes his head slightly.
“What?” Tiredness has made him even more blunt than usual, but he can’t quite bring himself to care.
“Nothing!”
“Spit it out, Buck.”
“No! I…” He shakes his head again. “I mean, I know I can't really…change people’s attitudes. But I’m sorry.”
Eddie is too tired to follow what the hell he’s talking about. “I’m not sure I'd say ‘attitude’ for whatever Bonnie has going on. She’s clearly lost her mind.”
Buck waves him off like the woman who kidnapped him is totally irrelevant, “No no, I mean…I’m sorry we got targeted in the diner.”
Eddie’s heart skips. “Oh, them. They’re just backwards. Pick on anyone. I’m used to the small-town attitude.”
“But I…I’m sorry that happened. And I'm sorry they obviously clocked me. I mean, I'm not sorry for that, I won’t hide who I am. But I'm sorry you got caught up in it, because of me.”
Eddie feels a rush of what weirdly seems to be relief. He hates himself a little for it, but for just a moment, he thinks I convinced them. I’m safe. They didn’t see me. It was Buck all along that they clocked. It takes him back again, back to the schoolyard where he desperately hoped that no one saw him, where he felt on edge when the boy with that voice in his English class moved schools, because oh god, the bullies always pick someone, and as long as there’s someone more obvious than me, I’m safe. He’d felt guilty for that one. He’d felt worse when, years later, he’d gone home to tell his parents that Shannon was pregnant, and the first thing his mom had said was “You? With a girl?” He’d been almost relieved when she’d realised he was telling the truth and laid into him about responsibility. At least that tirade hadn’t made him feel as horribly exposed.
But… the incident in the diner. He plays it back in his head. The argument with Buck, and the guy saying “your kind” – that could have been about Buck, sure. Not that it’d really felt like it, now he comes to think of it. The same guy calling Eddie a princess, though?
Dread re-pools in his gut.
“I, uh. Don’t think they clocked you, Buck.”
“Maybe not, maybe they’re just homophobic assholes.”
He could just agree. He could agree and let it go. But he’s so goddamn tired. He’s exhausted from lugging this fucking baggage with him all the time, from dragging his fear with him every day of his life.
“In my experience, bullies like that don’t usually pick on you if you’re out.”
Buck snorts. “I didn’t exactly walk in there waving a bi pride flag. That’s the thing they never tell you about coming out - you have to keep doing it.”
He takes a deep breath. If he does this, there’s no going back.
“I’m saying, I don't think they clocked you.”
Buck glances sideways at him, before silently turning back to the road.
“I’m not saying they’re always right, because they’re not. I just…I swear people like that have a nose for the closet. It was the same in school. There’s something. They have this…uncanny ability. To just tell.”
Buck is still silent, eyes trained on the road ahead. After a long moment, he says haltingly: “What are you getting at?”
“I…you know what I’m getting at.”
Buck nods. “Okay.” He switches on the indicator. “There’s a truckstop ahead. This…seems like something I should give you my full attent–”
“No! Please, no. Just keep going, it’s fine.”
“Eddie…”
“No, really.” He swallows. “I don’t think I can handle this if I have to make eye contact.”
“You don’t have to,” Buck says gently. “We can just sit in the parking lot. And, uh, this isn’t just for your benefit.”
“God,” Eddie’s head is in his hands. “I really don’t want to. I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Okay, well, we need a rest break soon anyway. I’m going to stop here and get us some more water and snacks. And when I get back to the car, you can decide how much you want to share.”
Eddie doesn’t respond, just leaves his head cradled in his hands like if he doesn’t he’ll fall apart, as Buck continues towards the truckstop.
* * * * *
Eddie should move, not least because it’s his turn to drive again, but he feels like stepping outside the car will shatter the illusion that the truth is contained within the shell of this absolute shitbox. He wishes he’d kept his stupid mouth shut, he could’ve kept flying under the radar for years, long enough for Chris to graduate and for his parents to die, and then none of it would matter any–
Buck clambers back in the car with a clatter, barely folding himself back into the driver's seat. He shoves his purchases at Eddie.
“Thanks.” he says dryly.
“You’re welcome.” says Buck, apparently completely earnestly. “So.”
“I told you I don't want to talk about it.”
“Yeah, you did. But you also brought it up in the first place, so that makes me think that maybe you do.”
Eddie scrubs his hand down the side of his face. “Can we just pretend that never happened? What happens on the road trip stays on the road trip?” Eddie can feel the desperation seeping into his voice, and tries to force it down. God, he hates being this transparent.
Buck nods slowly. “We…can. Or at least, I'll promise you I won't tell anyone else. But I…I can’t just leave this hanging.”
“What do you even want me to say, man?! ‘That weirdly homophobic small town sure had a good gaydar?’ I’m…” he swallows back the words, “It’s fine. It’s not fine, but it’s fine. I just…thought I'd been doing this long enough that even fuckwits like that wouldn’t be able to immediately smell it on me any more, but apparently not. I can’t get away from it.”
Buck looks…devestated. Huh. Not the reaction he was expecting, though honestly he couldn’t really say what he was expecting.
“Eddie. How long have you…why are you living like this? You know you could be out, right? At work and everything?”
“Yeah, but that’s not who I am.”
“So, you’re not…?
“Oh no, I am. I just…I’ll never. Because my parents. And the…” he waves his hand, "Catholicism. Not to mention, I really shouldn't be dating anyone. You’ve seen how all my relationships have turned out. I’m just…not built for that.”
Buck looks, if possible, even more devastated. “There is so much to unpack in all of that, but…let me just. Check. That I’ve got all the facts. You’re…queer?”
“Gay. Probably.” Eddie’s breath shudders out his lungs like missing a step on an uneven staircase on the first word. Buck, graciously, doesn’t acknowledge it.
“Gay, okay. And you’ve been…I don’t know, repressing it? For how long?”
“About ten years.” Buck does not need to know how long it's actually been. Ten years sounds bad enough.
“Fuck, okay. Ten years.” Eddie risks another glance at Buck, and it looks like he’s fighting back tears. “And…your plan is to just. Ignore it.”
“It’s worked so far. Homophobic towns notwithstanding, evidently.” He’s aiming for levity, but thinks he misses it.
“Eddie, I’m saying this as your best friend…you need so fucking much therapy.”
That startles a laugh out of him. “That was already true.”
“Yes, because you’ve been repressing this for ten years!”
He feels weirdly defensive. “It’s not, like, an essential part of me. It’s not that important.”
Buck turns to face him fully at that. “I know you usually deflect and I usually make things a joke, but I'm serious. Please tell me you don’t actually believe that.”
“It’s fine.”
“Listen to yourself. You’re denying this whole part of yourself, and you apparently have been for years, and you’re going to, what? Do that for another ten years? For what?!”
Hearing it out loud takes the fight out of him. God, if he’s exhausted now…does he have another ten years of hiding in him?
He might have to. He’s never really felt like he had a choice, anyway.
“Can we just hit the road again?”
Buck contemplates him, expression taught. Finally, he leans back, and restarts the engine. “Fine.” Eddie doesn’t point out that it’s his turn to drive.
Eddie is silently grateful that the car is such a shitbox - the engine putters loudly and the door seals are perishing, letting the wind whistle through, and the aircon wheezes in its fight against the mid afternoon heat. At least they’re not having to sit in the same level of uncomfortable silence they’d have to in either of their trucks. Besides, there’s something about a road trip that takes on a certain liminality. It’s hard to feel connected to his real life outside the car while they’re creaking along, bound together in this weird little bubble. It makes Eddie feel like he could say anything.
“I didn’t mean it.”
Oops. Like that.
Buck doesn’t miss a beat. “Mean what?”
Eddie locks his gaze straight ahead. “That it’s not important. My, uhh…being gay. I just. Don’t know.”
“I didn’t get to say congratulations before. So, congrats. I’m proud of you.” Buck says, almost unbearably gently.
Eddie snorts. “In fairness, it wasn’t really a ‘congratulations’ type conversation.”
Buck chuckles a little at that. “I am proud though. I had a hard enough time, and that’s without the catholic guilt. I’ve heard that’s a bitch to shake.”
“Oh yeah, incredible staying power. You can’t even escape it if you leave. Like yeah, god doesn’t exist, but also he’s mad at me and sees everything I do wrong.”
Buck shudders. “Honestly, it’s surprising you don’t have more of a complex. No wonder you’re worried people are clocking you if you’re thinking the big man in the sky is keeping track of everything you’re doing.”
Eddie laughs a little, and lapses into silence. He starts thinking again about the diner. The fucking cop. He can’t get away from them.
“Do you…think I did anything to give myself away?” He asks on impulse. “I thought I’d erased everything. Just, buried it. But they could still tell.”
“Would it matter if you did?”
“But did I?!” He sounds like a scared child, even to his own ears.
“I’m not even going to engage with that. You can’t control what people like that do, Eddie. And honestly, I don't think they’re anywhere near as good at clocking people as you think they are. I think that’s just confirmation bias.”
“But if I've worked for years to fly under the radar, for no one to know, and they can still tell - why have I wasted all this time? If the easier path the whole time was to just…give in. Be myself. And unapologetic about it. What have I done except blow up my life over and over again for the best part of a decade? For what??”
Buck hesitates. “I…don’t think it’s that simple. People don’t like to say it, but…neither way is the easy path. Because there really just isn’t an easy path.”
“God, don’t tell me that. I don’t want either path.”
“Sorry,” Buck grimaces, “There’s good parts, too! I promise! Just…’easy’ isn’t really the word I’d use.”
There’s a long silence, the only sound in the car the tyres on the road
“Can you…keep this to yourself? All of this.”
“Yeah, of course. Of course I can do that. Til you’re ready.”
Eddie barks out a short, humourless laugh. “That might be never.”
“God.” Eddie hears him sniffling, and finally turns to see him wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. “Sorry, that’s just…so depressing.”
“Don’t worry, I'm fine!”
“Doesn’t fucking sound it.”
“I am fine! I’ve been alone a long time. It’s…not ideal, but it’s fine.”
“You deserve better than fine! You…you deserve the world. Please just… try? I don’t know, I’m not saying ‘go to pride’ just…i’m here for you. And I want to help you try to live your life for you.” He sniffs wetly. “Can you consider it?”
Eddie leans his head back against the head rest, willing the moisture in his eyes to retreat.
Finally, he manages: “Okay. I’ll think about it.”
Buck reaches over and squeezes his knee gently, then nods, seemingly to himself, and returns his attention to the road ahead.
The silence lasts until they’re nearly past Flagstaff.
* * * * *
Eddie is back in the driver’s seat, and he’s pretty sure Buck is asleep, until:
“When did you know?” The words are spoken gently.
Eddie considers denial, but Buck has been nothing but patient, and it feels like another world they’re in - this little bubble, just for them. But he’s still him, so he settles on: “Which part?”
“That you wanted men. That you didn’t want women. That you were different. I don’t know, dealer’s choice.”
“What is this, therapy?”
“No, man, it’s a cone of silence. An opportunity to tell me all the shit you never share with anyone, and I won't ever bring it up again. Or like…” he flashes a tentative grin at Eddie, “I’ll bring up the embarrassing stuff to make fun of you, but anything deep, I'll take to the grave.”
Eddie hums sceptically, feeling the mood in the car lift a little.
“For real, I promise!” He drums his fingers on the water bottle in his lap. “But also, I…know. Well, not quite, obviously. Your…everything, experience, whatever, has been very different. But I kind of get the 'being clocked when you’re not out' thing. Plus I like talking about gay shit,” he adds, obviously trying to lighten the mood.
Eddie coughs out the shortest, driest laugh of his life. “I don’t know. It kind of felt like I always knew. But I don't think there was ever a time where I knew, that I didn't also know that I couldn’t want it.” He shrugs. “Not quite as important if it’s never going to be allowed to be part of you.”
The slightly lightened atmosphere disappears as quickly as it came.
“Fuck. Dude.”
“It’s fine.”
“You cannot keep just casually dropping the most devastatingly depressing homophobic shit and expecting me to take it in stride, man. What the fuck.”
“It’s fi–”
“Okay, that word is banned, for the rest of this trip. I’m so serious right now, dollar in the jar each time you say it. None of that is ‘fine’.”
“Fucking obviously it’s not fine.” Eddie snaps, defensive and irritated and exposed. “I’m just used to it.”
“God.” Buck heaves a deep sigh. “I just…I’m sorry I never realised you were carrying all this on your own. It must be so…lonely.”
And Eddie’s trying, okay, he’s trying so hard to be happy, and he’s been learning through a lot of trial and error (mostly error) that if he’s going to even approach being happy, he’s going to have to be a little more honest with the people he loves.
“Yeah, a little.” He clears his throat, uncomfortably. “Very, actually. I, uhh…only realised that kind of recently. And I wanted to change but…that seems pretty lonely too.”
“Hey, you’ve got me. You've got everyone at the 118, your sisters, Chris, Pepa…we’d all be here for you.”
Eddie is fucking determined not to cry, so he takes several steadying breaths. “Yeah, I know. I’ve just got to decide if I even have the energy for a change like that. Just the thought of my parents even knowing that about me…” he trails off.
“What about you, though? Don’t you deserve to be living your life for you?”
“I want to,” he says, and it’s like there sand lodged in his throat, making him choke up and making his words catch and grate their way out of his mouth. “I just don’t think I can. And even if I…came out–” the throat-sand grits again and threatens to choke him. He swallows it down, “–there’s still so much I’ve done. I’m not sure anyone could bounce back from cheating on their girlfriend with a doppelganger of their dead wife, let alone being gay the whole time on top of it.”
He can feel Buck staring at the side of his face, but he doesn’t dare look over. He doesn’t want to be able to tell what Buck’s thinking about him right now. Eventually, he sees Buck turn to look back out the window at the unforgiving landscape stretching out in front of them.
“You know what Bobby would say?” Buck is still gazing out the window. “He’d say ‘what a terrible world it would be, if we all only ever got what we deserved’.”
“The world is terrible, Buck.”
That snaps him out of…wherever he was, and just like that, he’s back to cajoling-best-friend Buck. “Again with the depressing shit! Pull over.”
“No! We’ll never get home at this rate!” Eddie’s relieved to be back to their bickering. It felt a bit too much like they were about to touch something he couldn’t face.
“Fine, I won–”
“HA! You said the banned word! Dollar in the “f” word jar.” Refuge in audacity, and all that.
“Oh my GOD.” Buck seems like he might be fuming for several seconds, but then a strangled giggle slips out. “Oh my god, you’re–” he starts to wheeze “–so bitchy!”
“Says you, Mr ‘at least this dog will never leave me’!”
They dissolve into squabbling and laughter until their next rest break.
* * * * *
They’ve settled into an easy silence. They’re near enough to the California border that they have radio reception for once, and the shitty car speakers are quietly crackling out 80s bangers. The sun is setting, and they both have their sun visors down, struggling to see through the rising orange dust haze. Eddie’s feeling a little less flayed open, and also a little starved of entertainment in their eighth hour of driving. That’s the only real excuse he has for what falls out of his mouth next.
“I’ll bite. When did you first know you were bi?”
“You know this!” He can’t figure out if Buck sounds genuinely offended or not. “When Tommy kissed me! Have you been tuning out all these years?!”
“Huh.” Eddie squints at the road ahead. “I always thought that was… I don’t know. Not a lie. More like…it seemed like the simplified version?”
Buck shifts a little in the passenger seat. “That’s…weirdly perceptive of you.”
“It’s been known to happen.”
“Rude! No, but, it was my awakening, for real. At least, the one that made me realise it. Hindsight’s 20-20, and all that.”
“What, you’d been interested before, but just didn’t realise?”
“Oh yeah, that’s like, a classic bi experience. Like, oh my god, every time I think I have a handle on who I’ve had crushes on, I’ll get hit with a random memory out of nowhere of some guy I ‘just really admired’ or that I was lowkey obsessed with and go…oh shit, I wanted to shove my tongue down his throat.”
“Really??” Eddie cannot imagine that. He’s been unfortunately and keenly aware of every time a man has caught his gaze, which isn’t to say that he didn’t repress it immediately every time, but still.
“For sure. Most embarrassing one was my grade four teacher. I only realised out of nowhere like, three months ago that I had a huge crush on him. Only, y’know. I didn’t know how to get his attention except by playing up in class. Must’ve been a nightmare for him.” He grins.
“Tell me more of them.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It’s…making me feel slightly less bad about myself.”
“Fuck you too, man.” But Buck is laughing. “Glad my disaster bi energy can be of service, I guess? Uhhhh…there was Jonno, from football. Leggy brunette, y’know. I couldn't figure out why I was so obsessed with his calf muscles. There was, ummm, Nick? Worked on the dude ranch out in Montana. In hindsight, that was a kind of…situationship we had going. We used to lie out under the stars at night telling each other secrets.”
“Very romantic.”
“Right?! No heterosexual explanation for that one.” He shakes his head. “Honestly it’s kind of embarrassing. Like I can recognise now, I spent wayyyy too much time thinking about his hands, and whether they’d be soft or calloused, that kind of thing. I don’t know how I missed the elephant in the room.”
“Hmmm. I can see it. I think. Besides, you’re a friendly guy. It was probably easy to just think it was that.” He drums his fingers on the wheel. “Can’t relate though.”
Buck snorts. “Any embarrassing crushes you’d like to share with the class?”
“Absolutely not.”
“You’re no fun,” Buck says good naturedly, and rummages for the snacks. “Wanna play ‘catch the cheeto in your mouth’ again?”
* * * * *
“Last stop!” Buck is settled behind the wheel, insistent that he drives the last few hours so Eddie doesn’t have to deal with L.A. traffic.
“Thank fuck.”
“Fuckin’ aye.”
Eddie pauses. The world around them is dark, streetlights and roadsigns and headlights the only pinpricks against the dark sky and they hit the highway one more time. It gives him a certain kind of courage, the dark. It feels like he could speak a truth and the world would cradle it gently, like he wouldn’t be immediately exposed.
“Thank you.”
“What for, getting us lost?” Buck chuckles, and there’s an edge of nervousness to it. Eddie’s determined to head that off.
“No, we’ve already covered this. I just mean…thank you for the road trip. Circumstances aside.”
Buck doesn’t seem to know what to do with that. Neither does Eddie, to be honest. He’s started now though, so: “And for the other stuff. I’ve…it’s…telling you, is one of the scariest things I’ve done. But I’ve never been more sure I could trust you with it.”
Buck doesn’t answer immediately. When he does, his voice is choked up. “Of course. I…you can trust me with anything.”
“Yeah, I know. Thank you,” he huffs out a laugh. “I think I might have hit my emotional vulnerability quota for about the next decade though.”
Buck doesn’t laugh with him. There’s another long silence, before he offers, suddenly, “Would it help if I tell you a secret back?”
“Huh?”
“You know, like, to balance it out. You might feel less…exposed, if you know something about me I’ve never told anyone else.”
“Buck, I mean this with all the love in the world, but I’m not convinced you have any secrets from me”
“Um, rude!”
“No, it’s a good thing! I’m never guessing with you. You just…tell me everything.” He tries to nudge Buck’s arm in a friendly way, but the point where they make contact kind of feels like it burns.
Buck seems…shifty. “Well, I definitely haven’t told you this one.”
“Really?” he lets the skepticism bleed through clearly.
“Definitely not.”
“You don’t have to tell me, man. Though I can’t say I’m not intrigued.”
Buck mutters something under his breath that sounds an awful lot like “Fuck, I’m gonna regret this,” then seems to steel himself. “So, uhh, you know how I was saying about those things of, like, thinking back over interactions that I had and realizing I was actually super into the guy?”
Eddie’s stomach does some kind of complicated flip, which he resolutely ignores. He tries to be nonchalant. “Yahuh…?”
“I, uhhh. Also. Had that realisation. About you.” Eddie can hear him rubbing the back of his neck, and chances a glance at him, just to see colour riding high in his cheeks.
“What?”
“Yeah. Our first shift together was one of…those.”
Eddie opens his mouth. Closes it again. Opens it again. Blinks. Exhales shakily. Christ, has it always been so hot in here? Even now the sun’s down? He fiddles with the air conditioning.
Buck is sitting in near silence, although Eddie can see him wringing his hands on the wheel out of the corner of his eye. Eddie should say something, but he can’t seem to make words form in his brain, let alone get them out of his mouth.
“Sorry, I uhhhh…probably shouldn’t have told you that,” Buck chuckles nervously again, “but you know how you look. It’s not news to you that you’re hot.”
“You, uhm, think so?” Eddie suppresses the urge to fidget, but he can’t help the heat rising in his cheeks.
“Obviously, dude. That’s not a controversial opinion.” He shoves Eddie’s shoulder playfully. “As someone who has been hanging out in the gay scene for the last couple of years, I can tell you – you’d absolutely kill it.”
“Doubtful.”
“Nah, I’m dead serious.”
“You’re my best friend, you’re obliged to say all this.”
“I literally just told you I thought you were hot the day I met you, take the damn compliment.”
Eddie resolutely ignores that. And the fact that this feels an awful lot like flirting. Are they flirting?
“What’s my best feature then?” He’s doing a terrible job of playing it cool, but some small, long-burried part of him is desperate to know.
Buck takes ones last glace at the road before he turns to examine Eddie for a long moment, dragging his eyes down, down, down and slowly back up. Eddie feels like a bug under a microscope, pinned and helpless. He forces the feeling down.
“Your eyes.”
“Bullshit, what a cop out!”
“No, you’ve got this whole adorable baby cow thing going on. It’s very sweet.”
“Fuck off.” He reaches out and shoves Buck, laughing, wishing he was touching skin.
Buck laughs too and rolls his eyes. “Fine, it’s a dead heat between your eyes and your ass. Happy?” He flicks on the radio again, covering the sound of Eddie’s spluttering response.
* * * * *
Traffic was no where near as bad through the city as Eddie had been expecting. They’ve made good time. It’s just past 11, and the moon is casting a ghostly glow over his front lawn. Which he can see, because they’ve been sat outside his house for a solid three minutes in total silence.
Eventually – “This is your stop,” Buck says quietly.
“I know.”
“What do you need?”
“For us to just keep driving for a bit longer. I can’t…I don’t…know if I can face all this. In real life.” It’s so much easier for him to be vulnerable in the dark.
“This is real life, Eddie.”
“Sometimes nothing feels real with you, though. It’s too good. I don’t deserve–”
“Hey hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay, yeah? No more of that.”
Eddie tips his head back, willing the tears to retreat. “I don’t know if I can deal with all this though. I’m not ready.”
“You don’t have to be ready yet. And your secret’s safe with me.” Buck tentatively reaches out a hand and covers Eddie’s with it. It’s warm. Eddie feels like he can’t quite breathe right.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Buck says, gentle as can be, “I’ll pinky promise on it, if you like?”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Eddie gurgles out a wet chuckle. “Okay. Sure. Please.”
Buck lifts his hand from Eddie’s, but before his can miss the weight of it, his pinky finger is curled around Edddie’s. “I pinky promise that I won’t tell anyone anything we talked about in this car. And…” he continues solemnly, voice gentle but stubborn, “I won’t bring it up with you either. Unless you bring it up first.”
“You’d do that?”
“Yeah, I just did.” He grins, teeth reflecting slightly in the glow of the streetlamps.
“Cone of silence, huh.” Eddie jokes.
“Yeah, absolutely.”
There’s a long silence, and Eddie knows he should get out of the car. He doesn’t.
Buck speaks unexpectedly into the quiet.
“So, with that cone of silence…can I tell you something?”
“Sure.”
“No, really–if you don’t want to know, now’s your time.”
“Don’t want to know what?”
“I…something that could…change things.”
Eddie’s heart ca-thunks in his chest. “I can’t imagine anything you could say that would change things between us.”
Buck snorts out a laugh. Eddie can’t quite figure out the joke. “You say that now…”
“I’m sure, Buck. Just spit it out.”
“You know when I came out to you–”
“Yes, I remember that.”
“Shut up, I’m trying to say something! When I told you I was on a date with Tommy, and you said it ‘didn’t change a thing between us’?”
Eddie shifts in his seat again. Danger ahead. “Uh, yeah. It didn’t.”
Buck nods. “Yeah I know. I appreciate that. I was just…thinking. That I should say the same thing to you.”
Why is his heart sinking? “Should?” he offers.
“Hmmm.” Buck is contemplative. “I know that’s the right thing to say.”
The air in the car seems weirdly thick. Eddie’s heart is thumping persistently against his ribs. He ignores it. “I’ve been told there’s no one ‘right thing to say’.”
Buck chuckles; a small, nervous thing. “Yeah. True. I just also…think the right thing to say is usually the truth.”
Eddie has to take a couple of seconds with that one, and even when he’s taken it in, he doesn’t know how to take it. He tells Buck as much.
“I mean that…well. I guess it’s true that this doesn’t have to change anything. I just think that, maybe, you should…know. That it can change things. If you wanted.”
“What does...what are you saying?” Eddie’s heart has migrated from being a nuisance in his ribcage to lodging itself firmly in his throat.
Buck heaves in a deep breath, and winces when his ribs obviously twinge. But the look on his face is resolute, decisive. “I’m saying that we’re already so much to each other, you should know that I wouldn’t be against exploring being…more.”
Eddie is lost for words, but he finds himself reaching across the console for Buck’s hand. When he looks up, Buck’s eyes are shining.
“I…there’s no expiry on this, yeah? You take as long as you need, and if the answer is no, you’ll still have me.” Eddie can’t help the way his eyes well up too at Buck’s words, and he’s never been one to tear up at something happy – never been one to tear up at all – but Buck is warm and kind, and…huh.
Maybe he’s been a lot closer to what he wanted than he thought. Maybe it’s been staring at him in the face all along. And maybe, just maybe, he’s a little less scared.
But he doesn’t know how to express any of this, so he just squeezes Buck’s hand and inclines his head. Buck seems to understand. When Eddie finally manages to haul himself out of the car and grab his things from the trunk, he turns to find Buck watching him out the open window. Their eyes meet.
“Thanks, Buck.” It feels inadequate, but it’s all he can get out.
“You’re welcome,” Buck says simply. He hold his gaze a moment longer, then turns on the ignition. “See you tomorrow.”
Eddie watches him all the way down the street, and feels like he has a brand new heart beating in his chest.