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Eddie doesn't know why he does it.
Or rather, he doesn't know why he does it now of all times.
But as they’re driving down the i40—right before they cross the California state border—without thinking, Eddie takes his hand off the wheel and places it ever so gently over Buck’s thigh. He doesn't realise he’s doing it until his fingers reach to grip Buck’s leg in a gentle squeeze.
They have been in perfectly companionable silence, the dead space of the car occasionally fills with light groans of pain and the sound of air whizzing through the window that doesn’t quite close all the way. But the near-entire silence never felt awkward, more of a mutual understanding of ‘we’re both too exhausted to try to be friendly right now.’. Wordlessly agreeing that all they need to do for each other is provide a presence, another body to exist in their vicinity.
He feels Buck tense under his grasp. And for a moment, a wave of panic washes over him, worried that this is too much too soon, right after Buck had been taken and beaten and bruised. But then, Buck relaxes more than he’s seen him do since they reunited. All the adrenaline that had him so wired seems to seep right out of him, as he sinks into the cheap faux-leather seat behind him.
For a second that’s all it is, a friend giving a comforting gesture to someone who’s just been through a life-altering trauma. That’s all it is—until Buck’s hand creeps up to rest over Eddie's, fingers wrapping around the back of his hand almost protectively, like he’s trying to stop Eddie from moving his hand even an inch, his eyes snap over to Buck briefly, only to see him staring down at where their hands meet, like he’s worried if he looks away it will disappear.
The contact from Buck sends a wave of warmth up from where their hands meet. The heat radiating off his skin reassures Eddie in a way he didn’t know he needed. The physical, unwavering evidence that Buck is alive, that his heart is still beating that precious warm blood throughout his body is a lifeline that he clings to, the only thing holding him up from a total collapse.
Since the moment he found his way back to Buck, he has been listening acutely for every intake of breath, every wince of pain, every word that leaves Buck’s lips. After a day of not knowing where Buck was, whether or not he was still breathing, Eddie has to know that Buck is okay. That his cheek is still as warm as when he held it earlier, that his pulse is still a steady rhythm, that his breathing is still filling Eddie’s ears. He craves that proof of life.
Eddie lets out a shaky exhale of breath at the feeling of Buck’s hand over his. He twists them around to swap their orientation, Buck’s palm facing upwards and resting against his own thigh. Eddie moves so his index and middle finger rest over Buck’s radial pulse, feeling the steady thump of his blood as their heartbeats sync up.
Buck’s eyes migrate from their hands to Eddie’s side profile, which remains steadily on the road in front of them
“Eds?”
“I’m sorry, I just—I have to know that you’re still here.”
“Hey. I’m fine, I’m okay,” Buck says reassuringly, voice raising an octave. Not moving an inch in Eddie’s featherlight hold.
“You don’t have to be,” returns Eddie. “No one expects you to be okay after that, least of all me.”
“I—I’m seriously okay.”
“Please, don’t lie to me. I don’t need you to be strong, I don’t want you to be strong. I want you to be honest to me, to talk to me.”
I don’t—”
Eddie sighs lightly at the deflection, it’s almost endearing how predictable Buck is, refusing to be anyone else’s burden, too afraid of being ‘too much’. “You’re not gonna talk? Alright, then I will.
“Buck, I was out of my mind while you were gone. For hours I didn’t know if you were dead or alive. Fuck, I thought—I thought those guys had killed you because of…because of me. Because of us.”
“I—I’m sorry Eddie.”
“Don’t be,” Eddie interjects with a shake of his head. “It’s nothing compared to what you went through today. I can’t imagine it, I honestly don’t want to imagine it. I hate thinking about how scared you must’ve been.” Eddie physically winces at the thought, mind concocting images of Buck behind the bars of that room, forced to pretend to be someone else, all the joy behind those eyes that Eddie has spent so many years relying on, gone.
“But pushing it down isn’t going to help you, or me. So please—this time—talk to me. Let me be there for you.”
A single tear rolls down Buck’s cheek that Eddie didn’t notice was welling. “I don’t know what you expect me to say, Eds. I was a replacement son, again. When the only person who treated me as their son, who didn’t try to use me, to make me into something or someone else, is dead.
“I started to lose it, lose myself in that place. Pretending to be him, to be Derek to protect myself, to protect you. Am I Derek? Or Daniel? Or Evan? Without Bobby, who am I? Other than the fucked up fragments of all the people that I failed to be.”
“I can tell you who you are,” says Eddie resolutely. He moves his hand up to intertwine their fingers and turns to face him, trusting that the highway in front of them will remain empty. Buck’s grip around him is soft, but the weathered callouses of his palm and fingers are rough against his skin. It is somehow the most natural feeling in the world to hold Buck’s hand in his.
“You’re Buck. That’s all Bobby wanted you to be, all I want you to be. As you are, not acting or pretending or faking for the benefit of others. You’re my partner, my best friend. I don’t know what I’d do without Buck and I certainly don’t want you to be anybody else but him. All the poor navigational skills and over-the-top dramatics included.”
“If you’re ever unsure, ask me. I’ll tell you.”
A choked-off sound erupts from Buck as he buries his face in his free hand, tears slipping freely down his bloodied cheeks. “I don’t—I don’t know who I am, Eddie.”
Eddie’s hand flexes with the urge to reach up and wipe the tears off Buck’s face, but he can’t bring himself to unfurl their hands to do so. He pulls over into the shoulder hastily, putting the car in park the moment the wheels stop turning.
“Hey, hey, you’re okay, you’re gonna be okay.” Eddie takes his now free hand to cradle Buck’s cheek, thumb flitting back and forth over the tear-stained skin. Eddie’s whole body is now turned to Buck, sitting at a ninety-degree angle in the car seat. Buck looks up at him with bloodshot eyes, their ocean-blue shade standing out even more than usual, sparkling in the moonlight with his unshed tears.
Even beaten and bloody he looks as beautiful as always, a fact of the universe Eddie no longer has the energy to deny anymore.
Not after he almost lost that beauty forever, not after he spent every last drop of his energy desperately clawing and fighting to bring his beauty back home safely.
“You’re Buck. You’re Maddie’s brother, you’re an Uncle to Jee and Nash. You’re Bobby’s kid, You’re Chris’s…well you’re pretty much Chris’ second dad.” A hesitant smile creeps over Buck’s face through the steady flow of tears, eyes going soft as he stares up at Eddie.
“And Buck.” Eddie takes in a sharp breath. “You are loud, and boisterous and self sacrificing and so unwavering in your dedication to the people you love. You’re my everything, my whole world.
“I want you to know that… To know that I love you.” A small, hesitant smile spreads across Eddie’s face as he sees Buck’s eyes go wide, brows furrowing. “You don’t have to say it back,” Eddie rushes to add. “You don’t have to love me in that way. I’ll wait for you to recover, I’ll still be your best friend if you don’t feel the same. But that is who you are. The man I love, just as Buck, no one else.”
Eddie doesn't truly know if Buck loves him back, he really hopes he does. But if he doesn’t, Eddie will still love him with all he has, even as a friend. And in this moment, the threat of rejection feels like nothing compared to the opportunity to reassure Buck that there are people who love him as he is, without expectation or demands on who he should be and what he can provide. And if Buck does happen to love him back, then Eddie will wait weeks, months, years, for Buck to get to the point where he can say it back, where they can be together in every way, rather than their unspoken, undeclared partnership that they’ve been walking around as for the last seven years.
Eddie doesn’t think he could stop loving Buck if he tried, it's another undeniable fact of the universe, if there is an Evan Buckley, an Eddie Diaz will love him to the ends of the earth, with every fibre of his being. It’s taken a long time for him to accept that irrefutable fact, not because of Buck, but because of him, what loving Buck said about him—as a person, as a father, as a son.
But it all feels grossly insignificant now, when all he could think about when he was running around that desert was all the things left unsaid, because he was afraid, because he let his cowardice overpower his true wants, because he listened to that voice inside his head instead of that feeling within his heart.
The only thing that can be heard in the cabin is the steady breaths of the two men who occupy it and the sound of a semi-truck rolling past, tires rolling over the asphalt of the highway. Eddie’s hands don’t move from their place, one cradling Buck’s face, letting Buck rest the weight of his head in Eddie’s palm, the other holding his hand squeezing it lightly as a silent declaration of his presence.
More tears start to fall down Buck’s cheeks as he looks at Eddie with something between hopefulness and apprehension. “I…’ he chokes out before trailing off.
“You don’t need to say anything to that, I don’t expect you to. I just needed you to know.” Eddie wipes one of the tears that runs down Buck's cheek, catching it before it slides off his chin.
“I do. What you said…me too,” whispers Buck incredibly softly into the skin of Eddie’s hand, twisting his face even further into his hold. “I think I’ll need time, before anything. Before I can say those words.”
Eddie’s eyes start to burn as tears build up, Buck goes slightly blurry in his vision, but he can still make out a faint smile on his face. “Okay, Okay. That’s great. I’ll wait as long as you need. You lead the way.”
Buck nods slowly, Eddie’s hand moves with him. “Thank you,” sniffles Buck, squeezing Eddie’s hand twice in short pulses, a silent affirmation.
Eddie just smiles back, not batting off the thanks, or returning it. Just letting it simmer for a moment. He uses his hold on Buck’s face to pull him towards him ever so slowly, giving him every chance possible to pull away—he doesn’t. Just moves with Eddie, who meets him over the console to press an impossibly light kiss to Buck’s birthmark. The skin is rough against his lips, where his birthmark used to stand out against his skin, it now blends in seamlessly with the scrapes and bruises which now mottle his skin.
Pulling back, Eddie hesitates for a moment, pausing just as all of Buck’s face returns to view. He wants so badly to lean down and press a kiss to Buck’s lips, he thinks that Buck would return it happily—but he wants Buck to choose, to be fully ready before they take that next leap. In the meantime, Eddie will happily exist in that in between, the space between friends and more. There to hold him through rough nights, to tell Buck who he is, to tell him everything he means to those who love him.
They stay there for a moment, foreheads resting against one another, their breaths intermingling in the space between their lips. Buck looks directly at him with those blue eyes and smiles, bright and true, unlike his others which had been masked with a sheen of performance. Eddie smiles back, unashamed and unbridled.
He slips his hand off Buck’s cheek slowly, pulling back to rest in his chair. Eddie puts the car into drive, returning to the empty highway, carefully maneuvering the car with one hand, the other still gripping Buck's, still clinging to that sign of life, but less desperately now. The car returns to that companionable silence, but now it thrums with the promise of their future, once they’re both more stable and recovered, when they’re not afraid of being ripped away from the other.
They cross the California state border with their hands intertwined. Not fixed, not healed, but on the road towards better.