Work Text:
The time is right, your perfume fills my head, the stars get red
And, oh, the night's so blue
And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid
Like, "I love you"
-"Something Stupid"
It’s singles night at The Rattlesnake bar. An intentionally goofy, tourist-trap sort of name, complete with a coiled brass snake adorning the sign above the door. A chalkboard off to the side tells them in barely legible writing that drinks are half price for singles on Thursdays.
“We’re single!” Buck had crowed in his ear, arm thrown around Eddie’s shoulders, still trying his hardest to sell Eddie on the idea of going to a bar in the middle of nowhere. After nearly ten hours in the car, no less, and a grueling week of physical challenges that had exhausted them both despite their fitness levels.
Eddie could have said no, and Buck probably wouldn’t have fought him that hard on it. Might have even thanked him tomorrow when he woke up without a hangover, fully rested and ready for their final day of driving.
But when push came to shove he found he couldn’t do it. There was something about this week, the two of them teamed up far from home that had smoothed away the strange tension that’s silently festered for months. They were Buck and Eddie again. Not only that, they were Buck and Eddie against the world, so in sync with each other it was as though nothing had changed in the last year. As though Eddie had never left, as though their world hadn’t been rocked from losing Bobby, from losing his abuela a few short months later. They were having fun again, going to bars every night and making new friends. Buck even wrangled Eddie into teaching him how to line dance after too many beers one night. He was terrible, but Eddie didn’t mind being patient when Buck laughed so freely, his stupid cowboy hat askew, and leaned heavily into Eddie’s corrective touch.
Compared to the bars they frequented in Tennessee, The Rattlesnake is stuffy and small. There’s a few booths with torn vinyl seating lining the walls, a short bar with similarly torn stools, a single pool table near the bathrooms. The peeling, faded wallpaper is a weird shade of green in the dim light, the air tinged with smoke and stale sweat the way most hole-in-the-wall places like this are.
Still, there’s a certain charm to it, this tiny bar in a tiny town—population of roughly five-hundred people according to Buck’s quick googling as Eddie exited I-40. They could’ve kept going the extra thirty miles or so until they hit Albuquerque, but Buck was so excited about the prospect of staying in a small scenic town, and Eddie had been nodding off at the wheel and too tired to argue, so here they were.
They checked into the single motel in town, a kitschy, colorful place lit up with bright blue and yellow neon and attached to a diner that Buck was buzzing to try. It was well after ten pm when they arrived, and the motel was surprisingly full up. Only one room available out of ten total. They paid and dropped their bags off, and Buck took one look at the single bed and suggested they check out the bar.
Eddie would like it noted that he did protest, but only half-heartedly at best. He was exhausted, it was true, wanting nothing more than to collapse into bed and pass out. But Buck was so enthusiastic, claiming it would be an experience, that they should make the most of the trip while they could. And the process of getting checked in and moving around had revitalized him a little, so he relented. Eddie insisted on a quick shower in their tiny shoebox of a bathroom (good water pressure, but far too tepid for Eddie’s liking) and then they were off, Buck practically skipping with anticipation to see the curious Rattlesnake bar.
If Buck was disappointed by how ordinary the place was, he didn’t let it show. There was a decent crowd tonight, no doubt drawn in by the cheap drinks, but this late in the evening the crowd was beginning to thin. They found a seat at the bar and ordered their drinks, and after a while of shooting the shit Buck goaded Eddie into a game of pool.
“You’re terrible at pool,” Eddie had teased him, delighting in the way Buck spluttered indignantly, color high on his cheeks.
“I’ve been getting better,” Buck argued, setting his glass down with a thunk that rattled the wood under Eddie’s elbow. The competitive energy of the games hadn’t quite waned from either of them, because all it took was Buck taunting, “Come on, you scared?” for Eddie to stand up and follow him to the table.
Eddie felt eyes on them as they played, but he ignored the prickly feeling to focus on the game. He and Buck circled each other, arms brushing as they moved, something kinetic and heady in the close air around them that had the hair on his arms raising. Buck shuffled behind him, scooting between Eddie’s body and the wall, hand at Eddie’s waist for balance. Eddie trailed a hand across Buck’s back as he did the same, and there was something thrilling in the way Buck reacted, something Eddie couldn’t help chasing. He watched the strong line of Buck’s shoulders as he lined up a shot, the way his fingers wrapped around the cue stick and told himself he was just observing his form, looking for something to poke fun at as they ribbed each other. It had been awhile since anyone made use of their pool table at the station, and yet somehow Buck’s game had gotten better. Eddie won, but only just, laughing when Buck rolled his eyes and stalked back to the bar like a sore loser.
As the loser, Buck bought the next round. They sank into a pair of stools, exhaustion and alcohol working in tandem to lower his inhibitions in a way that was as exciting as it was dangerous. He leaned heavily into Buck’s side, laughed too hard at his terrible jokes, soaking up his undivided attention the way he had all week. Buck seemed equally affected, loose-limbed and bright-eyed and captivating.
But of course, Eddie wasn't the only one who noticed. Somewhere between the bathroom and their seats, Buck gets cajoled into conversation with a few people at the other end of the bar. Eddie doesn’t complain or try to steal him back when Buck checks in with a silent eyebrow raise; he smiles and watches with a slightly sour feeling in his gut as Buck relaxes, charming them effortlessly with the bright enticing energy he always seems to have in reserve.
It’s not ideal, sitting abandoned at a bar in the middle of the night, but at least the drinks are good. He’s had two of the house specials, which as far as he can tell is just an old fashioned with a little extra citrus. The bartender tried to sell them on the citrus being derived from cactus, no doubt taking advantage of their ignorance by upcharging for it. Eddie doesn’t buy it for a second, but he doesn’t begrudge the effort, happy to throw a few extra bucks the guy’s way. Like Buck said, it’s about the experience.
“Sure I can’t buy you a drink?”
Eddie looks around. The woman who’d approached him while Buck was in the bathroom is back, sidling up to Eddie’s stool. She doesn’t actually sit down—she must’ve picked up that the seat is saved for Buck, still chatting animatedly with his new friends and admirers.
“No, I’m set. Thank you though,” Eddie answers, holding up his half empty glass in salute.
She smiles. Nora, she said her name was. She’s pretty—dark blonde hair and blue eyes, a lovely smile. If he were home, if he weren’t exhausted down to his marrow, maybe he'd… or maybe not. Probably not, if he’s being honest with himself.
“Someone waiting back home?” Nora asks. She sounds genuinely curious, not like she’s prying, which he appreciates.
“Sort of,” Eddie replies with a shrug.
Nora signals the bartender, who nods and starts making her a drink. Eddie’s eyes find Buck, laughing loudly at the end of the bar, head thrown back with a hand on his chest. Usually Eddie is the more sociable one between them, making friends easily while Buck tends to hoard his precious loved ones close, like a dragon guarding its gold. It’s how they operated in Nashville, Eddie initiating all the conversations with their fellow firefighters, Buck waiting to join in once Eddie made the introduction. But tonight the script has flipped—Eddie is bone-tired and keeping to himself, something possessive stirring in his ribs that he’s trying to ignore. Buck is like a beacon, drawing the eye of everyone in the room with his warmth, and he shouldn’t feel like this. Buck isn’t his, and he shouldn't—this week has just gotten to him, got his wires all crossed.
“Ah, I see,” she says, drawing Eddie’s attention back to her. She’s also looking at Buck, eyes flicking between him and Eddie significantly. He feels his cheeks heat with a warmth similar to what's been flickering in his chest all night.
“No, not—I mean, I have a son,” Eddie stammers, trying to stamp it out.
“I know. You mentioned that earlier,” Nora says with a grin.
“Right, well.”
“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be nosy, really. But it’s been a boring night around here, and you kind of have been staring at him.”
Eddie flushes hotter. He hopes she can’t tell.
“I mean, you’re not alone,” she jokes, nudging his arm playfully and nodding at where Buck is still holding court, gesturing wildly. “We don’t get many new faces around here, and yours are so pretty.”
Eddie laughs with her, shaking his head. The bartender drops off her drink with a familiar nod, and asks Eddie if he’d like another.
“He would. On me,” she answers before he has a chance to object. She raises her eyebrows, daring him to try when he cuts his gaze over to her. He raises his hands in surrender.
“Thank you, Nora,” he says, meaning it genuinely.
“Don’t mention it,” she replies. Eddie’s drink gets made and delivered fast, and he holds his glass up for her to gently clink them together. “Enjoy your night. And if you’re ever in Los Altos again, I’m here every weekend.”
“I’ll be sure to find you,” Eddie says. She squeezes his forearm gently before she departs, returning to her friends in a corner booth.
Her perfume has barely cleared the air beside him before it’s occupied by Buck dropping onto his stool. It’s a tight fit, their arms pressed together shoulder to elbow. Buck’s warm everywhere, light sheen of sweat dampening his hairline.
“Having fun?” Buck asks, taking a swig of his watered down drink. He makes a face and Eddie snorts.
“Not as much fun as you.”
Buck raises his brows, smile a little tight at the corners when he says, “Looked like you were having a good time with Nora.”
“You know her name?”
“No, but the people I was talking to do,” Buck answers with a shrug that moves Eddie’s arm with him. “Small town, you know.”
“Yeah, she was cool,” Eddie says. He’s still looking at Buck, watching the way his face shifts through several microexpressions before landing on something carefully benign.
“Get her number?” Buck asks casually, picking up Eddie’s glass and drinking from it like it’s nothing. Eddie ignores the way the casual spit-swapping makes his stomach swoop and huffs.
“We’re leaving this place in,” Eddie checks his watch, “roughly seven hours. Assuming I can drag you out of bed early enough, anyway.”
He can’t be sure in the dim light, but it looks like Buck’s cheeks darken.
“So what? I can sleep in the car, if you need the room.”
Eddie scoffs, looking away at last to steal his drink back and take a healthy swallow. “Don’t be stupid.”
“Can’t help it,” Buck says, knocking their elbows together. “I’m serious though, you could long distance it, you know? We’re only twelve hours from home, a-and Albuquerque is right there. You could hop on a flight and spend weekends together, no problem.”
“Okay. You gonna plan our wedding too?” Eddie teases when Buck loses steam, and Buck rolls his eyes.
“I’m just saying. If you like her, there are ways to—to take the leap, you know?”
Eddie says nothing. He stares as Buck takes another nervous sip of Eddie’s drink, spilling some on the neck of his shirt. It’s a pale pink tee, a color that’s always suited him well, rumpled from long hours in the car. His hair is disheveled from sweat and travel, flat on one side from where he’d passed out for three hours in the passenger seat. He’d done the same on the plane to Nashville, worked himself up so much about flying that he’d exhausted himself hard enough to fall asleep on Eddie’s shoulder almost immediately after takeoff. Eddie had never seen someone so relieved to have a flight canceled, so enthusiastic to drive a tiny rental car cross country.
Buck looks back after a few moments; Eddie couldn’t guess at what his own face is doing. Whatever it is makes Buck soften in response, shoulders dropping from around his ears as he relaxes.
“Yeah, okay,” Buck acquiesces. “Not your style, I know.”
“No,” Eddie agrees. “She was sweet though. Bought me a drink just to be friendly.”
“‘Just to be friendly’,” Buck repeats under his breath.
“And anyway,” Eddie continues, ignoring him, “We should get some sleep. I’m really beat, man.”
Buck winces. “I’m sorry for sleeping so long in the car, I should’ve—”
“Stop. I said it was fine, I meant it.”
“Still,” Buck insists. “I feel bad.”
“Well if you really wanna make it up to me, take me home.”
Buck blinks rapidly, cheeks definitely pinking in a way Eddie can’t help being endeared by. He cringes internally when he realizes how that sounded, but he doesn’t backtrack, not when it makes Buck fish-mouth like that. Eddie finishes his drink and twists to face Buck, knees pressed to his thigh, and raises his eyebrows expectantly.
“Uh, s-sure,” Buck says at last. “Yeah, let me just get our tab, and say bye to people.”
Eddie shakes his head fondly. “I got the tab. Go.”
Eddie pays while Buck says his goodbyes, hugging the people he’d befriended and exchanging numbers with a few. Eddie catches Nora’s eye as he shepherds Buck out, and she raises her glass to him with a wink and a smile.
The motel is within walking distance to the bar. There’s a cobbled walkway covered in sand that connects the buildings in Los Altos’ tiny downtown, and they fall into step beside each other. The chilly desert air is bracing, clearing the fog of cigarette smoke that clings to them. Eddie hasn’t smoked since high school but he could use a cigarette right now, something to do with his hands that keep brushing against Buck’s, something to soothe the strange, jittery energy thrumming under his skin.
They’re halfway to the motel when Buck trips over nothing. Eddie catches him at the elbow and asks if he’s okay before he laughs, for the record. But once he starts he can’t stop, and once Buck joins in it’s all over, the two of them cackling like hyenas. Eddie ends up tripping too, nearly doubled over from laughing, and Buck catches him around the waist before he falls on his face, which just makes them laugh harder. Buck tugs him upright, face tucked against Eddie’s shoulder and breath hot on his neck as he giggles, and Eddie can't help but shiver. They trip and stumble the rest of the way, wrapped up in each other, trying to stifle their laughter to no avail. Eddie can’t move, held in place by Buck’s arms and his inability to breathe from laughing.
“Fuck,” Eddie manages to say eventually, wiping at the tears on his cheeks. “My stomach hurts.”
“I’m gonna piss my pants,” Buck agrees breathlessly, still clinging to Eddie.
“Well get off me before you do,” Eddie teases, though he makes no move to push Buck off.
“Mmm, no. Cold.”
Eddie snorts. “Think you had too much to drink.”
Eddie starts to lead them to their room, a slow awkward trudge with Buck clinging to him like a koala. They somehow manage to reach their room, and Eddie fumbles in his pocket for the key.
“Buck. I need to open the door.”
“No,” Buck says, mumbled against Eddie’s neck.
“Buck. C’mon it’s cold.”
Buck shrugs. “You’re warm.”
Eddie chuckles. “We need to go to bed, Buck. It’s much warmer in there.”
Buck still doesn’t let him go, and ridiculously, Eddie doesn’t want him to. They haven’t really done the casual affection thing for awhile, since before Eddie moved to Texas, really, and it’s just… nice. Buck has felt so far removed from him for so long, he almost forgot what it felt like to have him close until this trip.
“Eddie,” Buck says softly.
His lips brush Eddie’s clavicle when he speaks. Eddie’s heart thumps in his ears. There’s no sound but the occasional cicada, no light but the moon and the neon and the brilliant stars, unaffected by pollution this far from the city. Out here, it feels like they’re the only two people in the world.
“Yeah?” Eddie asks quietly. He lets his weight sag against the door, shoulder pressed to the splintering wood, bringing Buck with him.
“I love you,” Buck mumbles against his skin.
Eddie chuckles. “Me too, bud.”
“No, Eddie, I mean I—”
He doesn’t finish the sentence. Eddie hears it anyway. He feels his cheeks heat, pressed to Buck’s hair, the smell of his shampoo in his nose. The heat spreads through his chest, his limbs, down to his toes. Buck’s so close, his head so heavy and warm on his shoulder, the words spoken almost directly in his ear. There’s a fleeting moment where something akin to relief sweeps through him in a heady rush before he feels Buck tense up.
Eddie swallows, waiting, but Buck doesn't say anything more, frozen in place against Eddie’s side.
Eddie scrambles for something, anything, and stutters out, “You, uh. You are drunk, huh?” His voice is strangely rough, throat too tight for the teasing affection he intends.
He regrets it immediately. Buck straightens up, taking all his warmth with him. Eddie turns and sees Buck’s face is stricken, eyes flicking wildly between Eddie and the door.
“Um, yeah. I guess maybe I am.”
He had the same number of drinks Eddie did. Neither of them mention this, caught in a strange staring match without actually meeting the other’s eye. The neon sign flickers, throwing shadows across Buck’s face. Eddie opens his mouth to speak three separate times and comes up empty. The wind kicks up, and he watches the chill go through Buck.
“C’mon,” Eddie says at last, unlocking the door with trembling fingers.
Buck follows him inside but hesitates at the threshold. Eddie doesn’t have to see him to know he’s staring at the single queen sized bed.
“I can um. I can see if any other rooms opened?”
Eddie turns. Buck’s rubbing the back of his neck, looking like a lost kid. Eddie’s heart squeezes and thuds simultaneously. It was so easy five minutes ago, familiar and safe and warm, and now he suddenly lives in a world where Buck loves him, where Eddie—
“Did you mean it?” Eddie asks.
It’s not what he meant to say. Don’t be ridiculous is what he’d intended. It’s midnight, it’s cold, I’m tired, I don’t want you to. All scattered to the wind, too far now to reach.
Buck’s jaw clenches. The door is still open behind him, and Eddie has the sense he should have closed it before Buck bolts.
As fate would have it, his instincts aren’t wrong. Buck turns on his heel and walks out.
“Fuck,” Eddie swears under his breath before he follows him out.
Buck is halfway down the motel’s outdoor walkway, heading in the opposite direction of both the bar and motel, towards nothing but open desert. Eddie catches up to him easily and cuts off his escape, planting himself in front of him. He sets his hands firmly on Buck’s shoulders when he tries to shrug past him.
“Eddie, let me go.”
“Go where, Buck? We’re in the middle of nowhere.”
“I don’t—I just need to. I’ll find another hotel.”
“There isn’t one, we checked, remember? It’s the middle of the night, you’re in no state to drive, and it’s cold as shit out here. You’re not leaving, Buck.”
Buck shakes his head. He hasn’t looked at Eddie once, eyes downcast or focused somewhere over his shoulder. “I can’t—Eddie, please let me go.”
“I’m not gonna do that,” Eddie says, sliding his hands down to his biceps, squeezing gently. “So either talk to me, or let’s go to bed and talk about it tomorrow.”
Buck closes his eyes. “Is there a third option?”
Eddie almost laughs. “Like what? Like we pretend it didn’t happen?”
Buck nods, a tiny dip of his chin. Eddie sighs.
“I don’t know if I can do that,” Eddie admits quietly.
“I—Eddie, please, just let me—”
“You’re not sleeping in the car.”
“I could. I’m—I’m not even tired, I slept for hours, I—”
“No. Come on.”
Eddie’s hand slides down to circle Buck’s wrist. Buck doesn’t resist when Eddie tugs him back to the room, when he shuts and locks the door behind them. He stands motionless while Eddie moves around him, helping himself to Buck’s bag to find Buck’s toiletry bag and pajamas. Eddie places both into his limp arms.
“Why don’t you take a shower?”
Buck cracks a smile for the first time since their earlier laughing fit. “You trying to tell me something?”
“Maybe,” Eddie jokes, though it’s a weak one. He needs a few minutes to himself, and he knows Buck does too. “Come on. I’ll figure out our route for tomorrow while you do so we can sleep in a bit in the morning.”
Buck nods and shuffles towards the bathroom. Eddie waits until he hears the door click and the shower turn on before he sinks onto the bed and lets his head fall into his hands. The sound of the water helps to soothe his frayed nerves but he's still on edge, body drawn tight like he's walking a tightrope. His mind is oddly blank, unable to latch onto a single thought before it slides to the next. He sits there with his head bowed and comes to no conclusions, all at once too keyed up and tired to think straight.
He decides to unpack their bags to busy his hands. They don't have much, unfortunately, a half dozen outfits each that takes all of five minutes to unpack. He sits on the bed again when he's done and tries everything he has at his disposal: box breathing and jello and naming things he can see and touch, all to no avail. He lasts two minutes before he’s back on his feet, striding across the thin mosaic carpet until he reaches the bathroom.
He knocks but doesn’t wait for an answer. Steam hits his face when he enters, air thick and muggy and smelling of pine soap. The shower curtain twitches.
“Eddie?” Buck asks, barely audible over the sound of water hitting the tile.
“Yeah, it’s me,” Eddie says stupidly. “Can I—is this okay?”
“Uh,” Buck answers. “Do you need—should I—?”
“No,” Eddie cuts him off. “I just. Can I come in there?”
It’s a wild ask, but Eddie feels wild. Feels like if he can’t look at Buck for one more second he’s going to do something drastic. Feels like he might anyway.
The shower curtain offers no response for a long, drawn out minute, the longest of Eddie’s life. Excluding the three minutes and seventeen seconds Buck was dead—the thought does nothing to quell the need to see his face.
“O-okay,” Buck answers at last.
Eddie strips quickly, hesitating when he reaches his underwear. He makes a split second decision to take those off too and then he’s tugging back the curtain and stepping in.
Buck has his back to him, facing the spray of water. The tops of his shoulders are red from the heat, and Eddie keeps his eyes level with them. They’ve seen each other naked and in various states of undress plenty of times before, helped each other bathe after Buck’s crushed leg and Eddie’s shoulder, but this is different. There’s nothing clinical about the way Eddie’s eyes linger on the water as it sluices across Buck’s skin, nothing detached about his fixation on the way Buck’s hair curls up in the humidity. His fingers ache to touch, and he balls them into fists at his sides.
“Hey,” Eddie says gently, breaking the tense silence. “Look at me?”
Buck’s shoulders droop. Eddie watches his ribs shift as he exhales before he turns around. The water hits his back, casting his face in a strange halo of droplets. His eyes are red-rimmed, face blotchy, and Eddie feels it like a punch to the gut.
“What are you doing in here, Eddie?” Buck asks.
In answer, Eddie steps closer. Buck tracks the movement like a prey animal, wary and skittish. He doesn’t settle the way he usually does when Eddie touches him—he flinches beneath Eddie’s hand but doesn't pull away. Eddie lays a palm against Buck’s neck, feels the heat of him and the way his pulse skips under his thumb. The touch displaces the water, makes it spray across Eddie's face, and he notices for the first time that the water is scorching.
“So this place does have hot water,” Eddie complains a little peevishly.
The trepidation in Buck’s expression cracks at last. He huffs out a short laugh that breaks across Eddie’s skin, and Eddie can’t help smiling with him.
Buck says, “You were too impatient.”
“Yeah, I am,” Eddie agrees, and kisses him.
Buck’s lips are wet and warm, and he makes a sharp, almost hurt sound into Eddie’s mouth. Eddie tilts his head when Buck doesn’t react, brushing their noses together. Buck’s stubble scrapes across his chin and it sets a shiver down his spine. His hand moves to Buck’s jaw, cradling it gently and thumbing over his wet cheek, and at last Buck responds. He makes another soft sound and kisses Eddie hard, hands curling around Eddie’s bare hips, and even that chaste touch makes his head spin. Eddie teases his tongue at the seam of Buck’s mouth, catching a hint of teeth on his bottom lip. Buck suddenly rips away, putting enough space between them that the water acts as a physical barrier. Eddie stares, watching helplessly as something like horror sinks into the lines of Buck’s face. His heart sinks, circling the drain at their feet.
“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, breathing hard, and Buck’s hand twitches. “I shouldn’t have—I should have asked.”
Buck comes back to him a little at the words, blinking rapidly like he just woke up. “Asked?”
“If I—if it was okay to—do that,” Eddie clarifies. Buck continues to look confused, and Eddie shifts into medic mode in an instant. “Buck. You—you do know I just kissed you, right?”
Buck laughs, but it sounds all wrong. Harsh and jagged where Buck is usually soft, ringing around the ceramic walls in a cruel echo. “Yes, Eddie, I know you—fuck, I’ve got to—I–I need to get out of here.”
“Okay,” Eddie says, stepping out of the way, but Buck has already ripped the curtain away from the other side, clambering out of the shower before Eddie can blink.
Eddie takes a minute to try and reconcile the last few minutes in his head, standing under the now lukewarm spray and staring hard at a spot of mold in the corner. It offers no explanation or recourse. With a deep breath he shuts off the water, wraps a terrible rough towel around his waist and follows Buck.
Eddie finds him next to the bed, his back to Eddie once again. He’s half dressed in a pair of grey sweats and no shirt, water spots down his thighs from where he’d pulled them on before he was fully dry. He’s digging through his bag on the bed, and with a lurch Eddie realizes he’s not looking for a clean shirt—he’s packing.
“Will you stop trying to run from me?” Eddie snaps, and Buck turns, looking guilty with his toiletry bag in his hand.
“I’m not running,” Buck argues. He turns away again to shove the toiletry bag in, and Eddie scoffs.
“Oh, my mistake. I guess you’re just packing up six hours early then, is that it?”
Buck says nothing for a moment, showing Eddie his fucking shoulders again, still bare and red. They shrug as Buck resumes his haphazard packing job.
“I’ll find a place in Albuquerque and come pick you up in the morning,” Buck says in a clipped voice.
“That’s stupid,” Eddie says. He rounds the bed, putting himself between Buck and the door. Buck’s jaw clenches but he doesn’t look at Eddie, staring hard at his hands. “You don’t even have a shirt on.”
Buck looks down at himself as if he hadn’t noticed. Without a word he digs one out of his bag, tossing it on the bed before zipping it closed. He tugs the shirt over his head, backwards, before throwing the strap over his shoulder and straightening to face Eddie at last.
“Where are the keys?”
“Buck,” Eddie says plaintively. “Come on. I’m sorry, okay, you—you don’t have to leave.”
“Yes I do,” Buck insists. His shoulders are square and set, hair dripping on his shirt and flat on top from where he pulled it on. His eyes look as crazed as Eddie feels. “I fucked it up in the first place, I should—it should be me that leaves.”
Eddie blinks. Recalibrates. “Hang on. What are you talking about?”
Buck’s face does something complicated that Eddie doesn’t quite follow. God, but he’s exhausted—it slams back into him like a freight train. He’s not sure how he’s even upright at all anymore.
“I ruined it,” Buck says in a small voice. “You wouldn’t have—i-if I hadn’t said that, you wouldn’t have—”
“Wouldn’t have kissed you?” Eddie finishes, and Buck nods. Eddie shakes his head. “Yeah, okay, fine. You’re right, Buck, I probably wouldn’t have.”
“See?” Buck cries, arms doing a weird flailing gesture. “You get it now. I fucked everything up, I–I confused you, and now it’s weird, and I just need—we just need some space, okay? And then it’ll be alright.”
“‘Alright’,” Eddie repeats sarcastically. He’s suddenly very aware that he’s still naked but for the towel, which is barely holding its knot around his waist. He adjusts it awkwardly. “I don’t think it’ll be alright in the slightest if you leave right now, Buck.”
“Eddie,” Buck croaks miserably, taking a step closer before he catches himself and stops. “It’s—it’s really late, and you’re exhausted, a–and we had a lot to drink.”
“It wasn’t that much.”
“I’m trying to give you an out here, man.”
“I don’t want an out,” Eddie argues.
Buck blinks, opening his mouth once before closing it. “What–what do you want?” he asks.
“I thought that was pretty fucking obvious,” Eddie snaps.
“You’ve never wanted that before,” Buck throws back. He sounds angry now for the first time since this started. “I can’t—I would do anything for you, Eddie. But I can’t be a–a drunken mistake, out here where it doesn’t count, where we can pretend this never happened when we get home. I can’t—h–have you and then lose you when you wise up tomorrow.”
Eddie scoffs, shaking his head. “You think I would do that? You tell me you love me,” Buck flinches, and Eddie pretends it doesn’t sting, “and you think my response is to, what, use you?”
“No,” Buck says. “No, you’re not cruel like that.”
“You sure seem to think so, based on your logic.”
“I think you’re confused,” Buck argues, louder now. Eddie spares half a thought for their neighbors and hopes the walls aren’t as thin as they look. “I think you care about me, and you reacted the way you thought I would want you to, because you don’t know what you want. A–and that’s okay, I didn’t—I felt the same way the first time Tommy kissed me, I get it, really. But I–I can’t be your Tommy, Eddie. It would kill me.”
Buck takes a deep breath when he finishes. Eddie watches the way it shudders through him, the way his eyes are shining and wet, one hand wrapped so tightly around the strap on his shoulder it turns his knuckles white.
“Well. I guess you have it all figured out, huh?”
Buck tilts his neck back, sighing at the ceiling. He drops the bag to scrub both hands down his face in frustration. “Eddie—”
“No, please. Tell me more. Is this why you keep pushing me towards any woman that looks my way?” Buck’s head snaps back up. “Offering to sleep in the car so I can get laid? Would that make you feel better?”
“Fuck off,” Buck snarls.
“No,” Eddie says, stepping closer, feeling an ugly sort of vindication when Buck takes a step back. He doesn’t let him, crowding his way closer until Buck’s back hits the rickety dresser. “Tell me Buck. If you know me so well, then tell me why I miss you even when you’re in the same fucking room. Tell me why I practically begged Chim to let me go to those stupid games with you instead of Ravi. Tell me why I haven’t so much as ‘looked at a woman in a year’, because it’s not about Chris, Buck. It never was. It’s because of you.”
A confession wrapped up in epiphany, met with wide eyed shock. There’s no sound but their breathing and the motel’s rattly heating system kicking on somewhere behind him, silence so thick he could swim in it.
Eddie counts his breaths, watches as several emotions pass through Buck’s features, none lingering long enough for Eddie to categorize, but it doesn’t matter. Between his ninth and tenth breath, Buck’s hands cup his face and he drags him into a bruising kiss.
It’s immediately different from before, Buck responsive and alive under Eddie’s wandering hands, trailing over his shoulders and chest before clutching at his ribs, hauling him close. Buck takes a step forward, pivoting their bodies to pin Eddie against the wall, his hands still so gentle on his face. Eddie groans, tilting his head for a better angle, lips parting to slide his tongue along Buck’s, against the ridge of his soft palate, skin hot and heart racing.
The wallpaper is scratchy at his back, and almost as an afterthought he remembers his state of undress. It surges through him like lightning, blood and heat pooling in his groin so quickly he’s dizzy. They part to catch their breath and Eddie’s head thunks against the wall.
“Shit,” he breathes, and Buck dips his head to kiss along Eddie’s jaw. Buck sucks at a sensitive spot beneath his ear, teasing his teeth against his skin in a way that makes Eddie squirm. He’s sure if he looked down right now he’d see himself tenting the towel obscenely.
Buck must read his mind because he does exactly that, whining softly against Eddie’s throat before he drops to his knees.
“Buck—”
“Can I?” Buck asks, looking up at Eddie, blue eyes almost black from arousal and the soft light of the corner lamp. The sight of Buck on his knees is so disarming that it takes Eddie a minute to find his voice. Buck presses open-mouthed kisses to his stomach while he waits, teeth grazing his skin and making the muscles jump.
“Fuck—yeah, yeah—”
Buck unknots the towel and lets it drop, groaning at the sight of Eddie’s cock. He ghosts his hands over Eddie’s thighs almost reverently, leaving sucking kisses on his hips and stomach that are sure to leave a mark. Eddie’s just about to beg when Buck finally gets a hand on him, jerking with a loose grip that nonetheless has Eddie sucking in a sharp breath, one hand flying out to grip Buck’s shoulder, the other lifting to cover his mouth on instinct.
“No,” Buck says. He reaches up and tugs Eddie’s hand away from his mouth, directing it to his hair instead. “You can tug on it, if you want.”
His hair is still damp between Eddie’s fingers, and he has the absurd passing thought that he can’t wait to see how wild his curls dry overnight. And then he’s not thinking about anything at all, because Buck presses a gentle kiss to his cock before swallowing him down.
“Oh god,” Eddie moans lowly, fingers immediately tightening in Buck's hair, hips jerking forward on instinct before he remembers his manners. Buck takes it in stride, moving with Eddie so he doesn’t choke before holding Eddie’s hips still with his free hand
It’s so good, the wet heat of Buck’s mouth, the way his hand moves in perfect sync, his tongue doing things that have Eddie’s knees shaking. It’s a little sloppy too, perfectly so, Buck moaning around him so enthusiastically it’s making his head spin. Distantly Eddie’s aware he’s being too loud, but he can’t find it in himself to care. His moans and pants fill the silence of the room, little exhalations of Buck’s name slipping past his lips, and Buck releases his holding grip on Eddie’s hip so he can fuck shallowly into his mouth.
“Buck, I’m gonna—you’re gonna make me come,” he warns after what feels like no time at all. He’d be embarrassed if Buck didn’t seem to love it, moaning and taking Eddie even deeper. Eddie’s head drops against the wall, and he whines when Buck swallows around his cock. “Buck—Buck, baby, I’m gonna—I’m, oh fuck—”
His orgasm slams into him, back bowing off the wall from the force of it. Buck works him through it, rubbing soothing little circles into Eddie’s hip with his thumb while Eddie shakes. Buck pulls off when Eddie starts to slump and Eddie sinks to the floor, faces level with each other when his ass hits the carpet.
Buck’s mouth is swollen and wet, smiling like he just had the time of his life, and Eddie sways forward to kiss him, moaning at the taste of himself on Buck’s tongue, strange and new and addicting. His hands find Buck’s hair again, threading softly through the wet strands. Buck moans when Eddie tugs, and he pulls away and looks down to see that Buck is still hard in his sweats.
“You didn’t touch yourself?” Eddie asks, and Buck shudders before shaking his head. “Good.”
Buck swears and presses his forehead to Eddie’s. “Eddie, please, I need—can I—”
“Bed,” Eddie says, kissing Buck softly once before pushing at his shoulders. “C’mon, up.”
They clamber up, both groaning and then laughing as various joints pop. Eddie pulls Buck in for another kiss as soon as they’re upright, leads them slowly towards the bed without breaking it, chest so light and giddy he feels like one of those cartoons floating in the air towards a pie. He trips over Buck’s bag and Buck catches him around the waist, giggling in his mouth, a replay of their walk back from the bar. Eddie’s heart swells with so much affection he might choke on it.
“Feeling a little clumsy Diaz?” Buck teases, and Eddie kisses the smirk off his face and shoves at him. Buck stumbles until the backs of his legs hit the bed, just barely catching himself from falling onto it.
“If I am, it's your fault,” Eddie says, grinning when Buck blushes. “Clothes off.”
“Sir yes sir,” Buck jokes with a wink, and if Eddie hadn’t just come his brains out he would probably have an embarrassing reaction to that.
Buck strips, peeling off his backwards shirt and sweats in record time. Eddie indulges in his naked body now, taking in his beautiful broad chest, the flush that spans from cheeks to navel. He steps closer, reaching out to trail a hand over his chest, tracing the unfamiliar ink of the tattoo he’s never seen. His thumb brushes over a nipple, and Buck makes a punched out sound. When Eddie looks back at his face he’s watching Eddie intently, lips parted. Eddie drops his gaze to Buck’s cock, hanging thick and heavy between his legs, wet at the tip. His mouth waters.
“What do you want?” Eddie asks, meeting Buck’s heavy gaze.
Buck kisses him in answer, tugging on Eddie’s hips as he sits until Eddie is in his lap, Buck’s cock hot and thick against his stomach. They kiss and kiss and kiss, Buck’s hands rubbing up and down his back, parting only to catch quick snatches of air. It’s lazy, indulgent, and Eddie would be content to do this all night, find all the ways that make Buck’s breath hitch. But when he shifts his hips forward Buck hisses in his mouth, still hard and waiting. Eddie leans back, and Buck’s eyelids flutter open slowly. He almost looks drunk, eyes hazy and mouth slack, red and slick with Eddie’s spit.
“Okay, okay,” Eddie says. He swipes a thumb over Buck’s lips and he shivers. “What do you need?”
“You. Just you, Eddie, please,” Buck says. Eddie snakes a hand between them, and Buck whimpers when Eddie gets his hand on his cock at last.
It doesn’t take long for him to find a rhythm that works. Buck’s a bit thicker than him, but it’s not all that different from his own cock. He does what feels good on himself, watching Buck closely, making a mental note of what makes Buck moan and jerk his hips, how he whines when Eddie twists his hand just so.
“That’s it,” Eddie says when Buck makes a particularly gorgeous noise, hands clutching hard at Eddie’s ass to pull him closer. Eddie kisses him and whispers, “So good, Buck.”
It’s an experiment, and a successful one, because Buck shivers and tucks his face in Eddie’s neck, panting against his skin. “Eddie,” he whimpers, muffled.
“So good,” Eddie repeats in his ear, grazing his teeth over the lobe. “So good for me.”
Buck’s cock splurts precome, making the drag even slicker, filthier, and Buck starts to fall apart. Eddie needs to see him—he grabs a fistful of Buck’s hair and tugs until he can see his face, screwed up with pleasure and so beautiful. Eddie twists his wrist and presses his thumb right under the head, hard, and his hips buck, nearly unseating Eddie from his lap.
“Fuck, fuck, Eddie—I—”
“That’s it, come on Buck, I want to see—let me see baby.”
Buck comes with a high pitched whine, spilling over Eddie’s hand. Eddie peppers kisses all over his forehead, his cheeks, his slack mouth as he comes down, until he twitches away from Eddie’s hand from oversensitivity. Eddie lifts his hand to his mouth to taste the bitter-salt taste of him, and Buck whimpers, cock twitching valiantly. Eddie wipes the rest of the mess on Buck’s discarded shirt, and Buck doesn’t even complain.
“Fuck,” Buck exhales. He cups Eddie’s face and kisses him, gentle and sweet. Buck reclines as he kisses him, taking Eddie with him until he’s flat on the bed with Eddie on top of him, held in the cradle of Buck’s hands.
After a while the kisses turn slow, languid, both of them slowly succumbing to their exhaustion until they’re just sharing breaths.
“Time’s it?” Buck mumbles against Eddie’s lax mouth.
Eddie lifts his hand from where it was tucked beneath Buck’s shoulder. He never took his watch off, and he reads the time with a groan. “Almost two.”
“Ah shit,” Buck swears, finally detaching from Eddie’s mouth. “We’re s’pose to leave in five hours.”
“No,” Eddie complains, rolling off of Buck at last and throwing an arm across his face. He grins when Buck makes a little sound of complaint and rolls over to tuck his face back into Eddie’s neck. Eddie wraps his other arm around him, playing with his hair idly. “We’re gonna be late. We’ll call Chim and Chris and everyone tomorrow to let them know. They’ll live one more day without us.”
Buck snorts. “And tell them what? ‘Sorry guys, we got held up in traffic and also fucking’.”
Eddie blushes, even after everything they just did, everything he still wants to do. Ridiculous. “I don’t plan on using those words with my fifteen year old, no, but—yeah, maybe. You got a problem with that?”
He can feel Buck smile against his bare shoulder. “Hell no. Tell everyone. Put a notice in the paper.”
“The paper? Are you eighty, who reads the paper?”
It’s quiet for a moment. He hears Buck swallow before he answers. “Bobby did.”
Eddie drops his arm. Buck isn’t looking at him, still burrowed in Eddie’s neck the way he is. Eddie turns on his side and touches Buck’s face, stroking his thumb over his birthmark until Buck looks at him.
“Then we should put it in the paper. For him.”
Buck’s smile is a little watery. Eddie returns it, throat similarly tight, and presses his lips to Buck’s forehead. “Thanks for taking me out tonight.”
Buck huffs and presses a kiss to Eddie’s jaw. “You’re welcome. Thanks for—um. Just thanks.”
“You don’t have to thank me, Buck.”
“Still. I never thought—I thought if I ever told you, it would be the end, you know? That I’d lose you. For good.”
“You wouldn’t have,” Eddie says. He rubs a hand up Buck’s arm, makes sure to catch Buck’s eye when he says, “Even if I didn’t feel the same. I wouldn’t have let that happen to us.”
“I know, but—ugh. I’m too tired for this.”
“Me too,” Eddie agrees. “Let’s clean up and go to bed. We have plenty of time to talk about it tomorrow.”
Buck nods, leaning up to peck Eddie’s cheek. “You stay, I’ll be right back.”
Buck gets up, magnanimously, and returns with damp washcloths. They do a cursory wipe down and toss the duvet away. Eddie turns down the bed while Buck uses the bathroom and brushes his teeth. Eddie joins him at the sink and knocks their hips together while he wets his brush and steals Buck’s toothpaste. It takes a while, the two of them stifling delirious giggles at the sight of their naked bodies brushing their teeth in the mirror. When they finish, Buck tugs his sweats back on and climbs in bed, wrapping himself around Eddie as soon as they’re settled. Eddie’s asleep almost the moment he does, nose pressed to Buck’s collarbone, dreaming of home.
Eddie wakes to the sun on his face. It’s a slow, indulgent waking—he stretches his sleep-drenched muscles, noting the pleasant weight on his chest, and blinks his eyes open. Buck is strewn across his torso, an arm and leg both thrown over him, snoring softly in his ear. He can tell from the light that it’s late, and gently tugs his arm loose to check his watch: 11:13am.
Ah, well. They’ve missed half the day already, he may as well make the most of it.
Eddie shifts onto his side, moving slowly so he doesn't jostle Buck too much. Buck doesn’t stir, arm moving limply with Eddie until it’s curled loosely around his waist. They’re close enough to be sharing the same pillow. Eddie watches him for a long time, cataloguing all the things he’s always noticed about Buck without letting himself think about why. The way his eyelids twitch as he dreams. The way the sunlight catches in his eyelashes, his brows, his stubble, turning it all golden. He snores like a chainsaw when he’s really out, but Eddie’s never minded (apart from nagging him to get checked for sleep apnea, anyway). Right now it's a quiet, gentle sound that could almost lure Eddie back to sleep. He keeps his eyes open and lets himself look his fill.
Eddie sees it when Buck starts to wake. His breathing changes, snores lightening and mouth twitching. His lids flutter and then open, and he blinks blearily at Eddie.
“Woah,” Buck says, voice deep and rumbly.
Eddie huffs a laugh. He reaches up and touches Buck’s cheek, thumb brushing under his eye. “Morning.”
“Good morning,” Buck says with a sleepy smile. He stretches, and Eddie watches the way his muscles flex appreciatively. Voice cracking on a yawn Buck asks, “How late is it?”
“Almost noon,” Eddie answers, and Buck pushes up onto an elbow in alarm, eyes wide.
“Noon? Shit, we should’ve set an alarm.”
Eddie shrugs, shifting onto his back to watch him. Buck’s hair is exactly as wild as he predicted, and he’s thoroughly enjoying the view. Buck runs a hand through it anxiously, then looks down at Eddie and swears under his breath.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” Eddie asks.
“Look at me all—like that. While looking like that.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Eddie says lightly. He lifts his arms above his head and arches his back in a stretch, sheets pooling low on his waist, and Buck makes a choked sound.
“Eddie.”
“I’m stretching.”
“You know exactly what you’re doing. We’ll never leave this room if you keep that up.”
Eddie snorts and pushes up onto his elbows. “Then get down here and do something about it,” he teases. He hooks a hand around Buck’s neck and pulls him into a kiss, and Buck spends the next thirty minutes making good on his threats.
They do leave the room, eventually, after a lazy shower and more fooling around that has them both packing up the car on shaky legs. It’s one-thirty by the time they make it to the diner that Buck insists on trying before they leave. And it’s not as if Eddie has been able to say no to him once this whole trip anyway, he might as well get a greasy burger out of it.
Buck presses their ankles together under the table and they order hamburgers the size of their heads, fries, and a piece of pie to share. Their booth is shiny red vinyl and a little sticky, the walls crammed with various paintings of the desert, and there’s an honest to god jukebox playing oldies in the corner. Their waitress tells them that the art is all done by the locals, pointing out a few of her favorites, and Eddie knows Buck is going to want to take a hundred pictures before they leave.
Eddie calls Chris and Pepa and tells them he’ll be home later than expected without going into detail—that’s a conversation he needs to have in person. Buck calls Chim and tells him more or less the same, though with a few more choice words when his brother in law tries to pry. They devour their food when it arrives, neither of them having eaten in over twelve hours, and keep conversation to a minimum, smiling goofily at each other over their plates when their eyes meet
“So,” Buck starts as they finish their pie, pushing a stray blueberry around his plate nervously. “You’re still feeling okay? About—uh. About this?”
He gestures between the two of them, blushing and avoiding Eddie’s eyes. Eddie raises an eyebrow and says, “Did me blowing you in the shower give you the impression that I changed my mind?”
“Eddie,” Buck hisses, looking around as if they aren’t the only ones in here. Eddie laughs and hooks his foot around Buck’s ankle.
“Yes, Buck. I’m feeling very okay about this.”
Buck smiles and looks down at his plate like he can’t bear to look directly at Eddie as he says it. Eddie adores him.
“I am sorry, for the record,” Buck continues. He meets Eddie’s eyes. “For saying all that, last night, before we—it wasn’t fair.”
Eddie shrugs, scooping up the last bite even though his stomach is bursting. “It was a little fair. I would’ve thought the same in your shoes.”
“Still.”
“I’m sorry too,” Eddie says. He takes a deep breath, forces himself to put to words what’s been gnawing at him since he realized he wanted to kiss Buck. Since long before that, if he’s being honest. “I’m probably—I’m sure it won’t be the first time I’ll screw this up.”
Buck’s expression shifts into concern. “Hey, no—I–I mean, maybe. We’ll both screw up, and get pissed at each other and argue about dumb shit. And we’ll get through it, like we always have. Nothing's changed.”
“Everything’s changed,” Eddie argues. He chews his lip while he looks for the right words, or for courage, maybe. Buck is patient, reaching over to squeeze Eddie’s wrist gently. Eddie catches his hand before he pulls it away, lets it anchor him.
“What I mean is, I haven’t—the stakes were never like this before, Buck. The way I feel about you, it’s—I’m—”
“Eddie—”
“I love you,” Eddie says.
The way Buck smiles will stay with him until the grave, he’s sure of it. It spreads across his face slowly, eyes crinkling and cheeks beautifully pink. He didn’t mean to say it for the first time in an empty diner, surrounded by the smell of burnt grease and the sounds of some song from the fifties in the background. But judging from the way Buck is looking at him, he doesn’t seem to mind.
“I love you,” Eddie repeats more quietly, cognizant that their waitress is restocking salt shakers a few tables down, probably using them to juice up her gossip stores for the week. “And this—it’s important.”
Buck squeezes his hand, smiling like Eddie just handed him the moon. “Yeah, it is. And I got your back. Always.”
They hit the road just after two. Buck pulls onto I-40, Los Altos disappearing in the rearview with the windows down to let in the balmy afternoon air. Eddie slips his sunglasses over Buck’s eyes, Buck’s having disappeared somewhere between Little Rock and Amarillo, and Buck glances over to flash that brilliant smile again. Eddie reaches for Buck’s hand as they cross the city limits, and Buck presses a kiss to Eddie’s palm before settling them both on the console. Eddie smiles towards the road ahead, and chases the sun home.