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The first sign something was wrong was the temperature gauge.
Eddie noticed it climbing while Buck was halfway through a story about some guy in Nashville who had tried to convince them that hot chicken was akin to a spiritual experience. Buck had one hand on the wheel, the other gesturing wildly between them, his eyes bright and animated in that way Eddie had loved for longer than he cared to admit. A spark that had been fading since maybe even before Eddie had left for Texas. And it was something beautiful the way that Buck was starting to bounce back, be more of himself again.
So it just makes sense really that Eddie hadn't exactly noticed something was wrong until it was showing on the gauge and far too late for either of them to truly do anything about it.
“--and then he says, ‘No, man, you gotta feel it,’ like it’s gonna reach enlightenment or something–”
“Buck.”
Buck blinked. “Yeah?”
“The truck.”
Buck glanced down.
“Oh.”
The word came out small and they coasted to the shoulder in silence, hazard lights flashing against the desert heat that shimmered off the pavement. It truly was a lost cause because by the time they fully stopped, white smoke was pouring out from the hood when Buck popped it.
Eddie jumped out of the truck a little more slowly, knees cracking as his boots hit the dirt below. He approached the front cautiously,
He’d been a soldier long enough to recognize the feeling creeping up his spine. The low-level readiness that came when plans unraveled. You adapted. You assessed. You moved forward. He was used to the desert and the unforgiving sun. He knew exactly how to navigate it, the steps to take. The careful ones that no one gave a second thought to unless they'd like it before. Unless they knew. That part of him was automatic.
The other part, the one that watched Buck lean over the engine with his hands on his hips and shoulders tense, was quieter. It was softer. Gentler. Far more dangerous of a feeling and much more difficult for Eddie to handle.
Buck whistled under his breath, snapping Eddie’s attention back to the issue at hand as he came up behind his best friend to peer under the hood.
“That’s… not great.”
Eddie folded his arms as he tried to get a better look. “Define not great.”
Buck ran a hand through his hair, bits of dust and dirt catching in his curls. “Radiator hose is completely shot.”
Eddie closed his eyes for a second to think. They were somewhere between Nashville and Los Angeles, far enough from either that the landscape had flattened into something unreal. He exhaled slowly. This is was, as Buck had already said, not great. Even the smallest fix that Eddie could do with their limited supplies likely wouldn't get them any closer to home before they inevitably broke down again.
“Nearest town?”
Buck pulled out his phone, frowning at the Google map image in front of him. “Looks like a couple of miles. Five at most?”
“And cell service?”
Buck tilted the screen toward Eddie.
Right. Of course. Nothing.
They walked.
Buck apologized too much as they walked. Eddie carried both bags, shouldering them through the sharp pangs of white hot pain when he saw the way that Buck favored his bad leg.
The desert was quiet in a way that made Eddie feel like they’d stepped outside the rest of the world. The hot, cracked earth beneath their feet seemed to stretch on forever, a never ending mirage. When they did reach the town, it barely qualified as one. They passed a gas station on the way in, a connected diner to the left. A minute into the all but barren little slice of life, they walked nearly directly into a motel with a flickering neon sign still advertising the “new” addition of color TV and HBO. Guess that was the answer to if they’d be able to get some internet connection or cell service. At least the ads tucked into the front window said there was a mechanic somewhere, so they could probably get a tow in the morning. That helped him feel a bit at ease and he could feel the way tension bled out of Buck beside him as they pushed open the front door, the smell of smoke and some type of overpowering pine cleaner immediately assaulting them in an invisible cloud.
“Cash only,” the woman at the desk said. She didn't even look up from a magazine gripped tight in her bright red acrylic nails. Everything about her and the motel itself looked pulled out of the early 80s. The addition of cash only made Eddie feel like he had stepped out of a time machine instead of just being 15 or so hours outside of downtown LA.
They glanced at each other before dumping their wallets and pocket on the discolored counter top, scrounging up as much money as they had on them. At one point Buck had asked about an ATM and was met with nothing but a blank stare.
“One room,” she told them when they finally were able to hand over just enough to cover the most basic room in the place. “We advertise it as a comfort sleeper for one, but the bed might be big enough to sleep both of you if you’re just in for the night.”
Eddie felt the way that Buck hesitated next to him and stepped in. “That’s fine.” He grabbed the key from the woman who he still hadn’t gotten the name of and tried to ignore the way that Buck stared at him as they made their way down the dimly lit hallway to the left.
The room was small and worn when they reached it, dust mites floating through the air. There was one bed in the middle of the room, maybe the size of a full, far too small for two grown men let alone the two of them and their well earned firefighter physiques. There was a small end table shoved into the corner, a rattling AC unit that must have been state of the art once upon a time, and a chair that looked like it had lived several previous lives.
Buck flopped onto the mattress dramatically, throwing his bag halfway across the small room as he did and groaned into his arm.
“Well. This is… intimate.”
Eddie leaned against the door, watching him for a moment, taking in everything. From the dust stuck in his curls to the little bit of engine grease smudged next to his birthmark. His t-shirt had ridden up when he flopped over, a small sliver of pale skin peaking out alongside the waistband of his boxers. The newer tattoo he’d gotten a few months ago was like a beacon against his skin, the dark lines curving over his hip bone and disappearing right alongside the smattering of hair at the base of his stomach. Eddie tore his eyes away as quickly as he could, focusing on the small table, trying not to be obvious. Attempting to not let everything spill out between them at what was definitely the most inopportune time possible. It had gotten harder over the last year to ignore things but still, Eddie wasn’t ready. He wasn't sure if he ever would be.
His eyes caught on the little pamphlet on the worn wood table advertising a bar that was connected to the motel itself. He raised the piece of paper, eyebrows going up as he watched Buck scan it. They communicated without words, much like they usually did. But, between the heat, the close quarters, and Eddie's uncontrollable feelings; it felt just a little more loaded than usual.
That's how they found themselves drinking beer under flickering fairy lights and talking about nothing important. It was definitely a bar, the most important space in the small town full of strangers who didn’t know anything about them. In his town they were just two travelers with limited funds and the wish to not die in the middle of the desert. It was… freeing. And Eddie found himself relaxing with each beer pushed in front of him. He couldn't remember the last time he’d felt this calm, this free. Maybe it was the knowledge of anonymity paired with the idea of not wanting to hide anymore, but it made him feel invincible and when at some point, a slow song came on and Buck titled his head, Eddie knew there was no way for him to deny whatever was going to be asked of him.
“Oh. I love this one! Dance?”
He stood and held out a hand.
Eddie hesitated for just a moment. The closeness of something like this wasn’t new. They’d been toeing that platonic line for years now, and that was the problem. Eddie had been orbiting Buck almost since the day they met. He just didn't have the language for it at first. Back then it had been easy to explain away. Back then Buck was loud and reckless and kind in ways Eddie hadn’t been prepared for. Buck had taken Christopher into his arms without hesitation. Buck had shown up again and again. It was easy to say that he was an overwhelmed single father who was just accepting help. Easy to hide things under a layer of gratitude and then later loyalty, the need to pay back some sort of invisible debt that Buck would never cash in on.
But as the years had passed, he’d realized that he had begun to… notice things. He noticed how Buck always ended up pressed against his side in group settings. How his eyes tracked Buck automatically across a room. How Buck’s laugh settled somewhere deep in his chest. He noticed how Buck had integrated seamlessly into their family structure, taking on a parental role with Chris without even having to be asked. It was simply natural. He noticed that no one else ever quite seemed to measure up and that when buck dated, it was like a knife right to the heart. And then Buck had started dating men and that had ruined something in Eddie. Buck kissed Tommy and Eddie blew up his life. It took far too long for him to realize what that truly meant.
He took Buck’s hand. He let Buck pull him onto the small dance floor. He let buck sway with him a bit awkwardly at first before the song settled around them and Buck got comfortable, laying a hand on Eddie’s waist and the other on his shoulder, Eddie’s breath hitching at the contact.
“You okay?” the question was soft and Buck paused for a moment before Eddie pulled him closer again with a nod.
“Yeah,” he said too quickly. But, he didn’t elaborate and he kept them moving, keeping their bodies pressed together as they swayed, a little off kilter, amongst a dance floor of other equally drunk couples.
Eddie felt Buck’s warmth through their shirts, felt Buck’s chest rise and fall against his own. The alcohol in his system heightened everything, made it all feel like so much more. It was the kind of moment that Eddie had spent years avoiding, turning away from it before they could tip over that last little barrier between friends and something more.
He remembers the night that Buck came out like it happened yesterday instead of almost two years ago. He had dwelled in it, lived in it, far more than he would ever admit. It’s clear in his mind. Sitting in Buck’s loft under low light. His voice had been steady but his eyes had been nervous, daring around as he spoke, like he just wasn’t sure if he could trust Eddie. It was the first time that he’d felt like Buck didn’t know him. And when the words had tumbled out, Eddie had tried to hide his surprise, and tried to be supportive. He’d hugged his best friend, told him he was proud. Told him it didn't change anything. But it did.
Because Buck coming out hadn’t just been about Buck coming out to him. It had been the moment where things had truly started to snap into focus. It suddenly felt like there were finally words for a thing he hadn’t known how to name, a language that they could share together. And while Eddie had struggled and clawed through those feelings, Tommy didn’t step back. Tommy stayed and stayed and just kept staying. And then Eddie had seen his dead wife through a store front window and Eddie swallowed down every word he wanted to say. Because he didn’t get things like this. He didn’t get to have someone like Buck.
Eddie pulled back as the song ended, fading into something more upbeat and dancey and the moment broke. Buck stepped back with a smile motion back towards the motel and they stumbled back to the room together, a little more drunk than they’d intended and far too goofy for what they’d been through. They fell through the soor and collapsed onto the bed, far too close, laughing in each other’s arms.
Buck rolled onto his side, curling away from Eddie’s side the best that he could. “Today was kind of a mess wasn’t it?”
Eddie stared at the ceiling not even hearing the question. “It changes everything,” he said quietly. Because he wasn’t in the motel room. He was back two years ago, trying to change things and being unable to. Saying the things that he never did.
Buck blinked. “What?”
“You coming out,” Eddie said as he turned towards Buck, saying what he should have said the first time around. “It changed everything.”
He took a breath.
“I’ve been holding back for almost two years,” Eddie admitted. “I thought I just needed time. That I had to figure myself out first. And then Tommy happened and I figured… that was it. I missed my chance.”
Buck went still next to him and Eddie would have thought something horrible happened if it wasn’t for the slight rise and fall of his chest that Eddie could feel under his hand that was trapped between the two of them on the too small, well worn bed.
“But I can’t do that anymore. I can’t keep pretending this is just best-friend stuff.”
His voice shook as he closed his eyes and turned away for the last words, for the confession that might ruin it all. “I’m in love with you.” He cracked an eye open, a glutton for punishment as he took in Buck’s reaction. “I think I have been for a while, years maybe.”
“Eddie…”
“I didn’t tell you because you deserve someone who’s sure,” Eddie said. “And I was terrified I wasn’t.”
Buck reached out and took Eddie’s hand. “I don’t–I don’t need perfect,” he said softly, his fingers coming up to fit under Eddie’s jaw, turning his head for him so they could look each other in the eyes. “Eddie I– I just–” he took a shaky breath. “I just need you.”
They leaned together and Buck kissed him gently, being the first one to close the gap almost as if he was afraid that Eddie would disappear or pull back with regret. But Eddie didn't. He pressed forward. He kissed back.
It felt like finally exhaling after holding his breath for years. They curled up against each other under the thin motel blanket, Buck’s arm heavy over Eddie’s chest as they tried to get closer, attempting to destroy the concept of space between them. And Eddie wasn't quite ready for that yet, especially in a run down motel room where it would be rushed and messy and giving into something before they’d even been able to talk about them, about what this all meant. But, he wanted it. He wanted to be as close as possible, to not just be with Buck, but to be one with him. To create something new and beautiful and all theirs.
Eventually Buck yawned, pulling back from Eddie’s lips. “Tomorrow we’ll deal with the truck,” he murmured as he let his head fall onto Eddie’s chest. “Then we go home. Then–”
“--we tell the team,” Eddie finished.
Buck groaned.
Eddie smiled into Buck’s hair.
“We’ll figure it out.”
Buck hummed, already drifting off as he did. “Maddie’s gonna make fun of me forever, Eds. Forever…”
Eddie stayed awake a little longer listening to the desert outside their window as Buck drifted off, his body a warm, steady weight against Eddies’ side.
For the first time in years Eddie felt like he was being truly honest.
And it felt like coming home.