Luke's tour of duty in the Marines was a largely convenient thing. It explained how he could drive/fly whatever object the writers wanted to throw into the plotline, and explained any number of bad guys (and one ex-almost-fiancee, but we won't dwell on that). This episode, Follow That Still, was no exception to that rule. But if we're sick of the convenient Marine Corp stint, imagine how Bo feels about it...
If Luke said he learned a trick or two in the Marines one more time, Bo was going to… do something he hadn't made up his mind about yet.
That was a problem, wasn't it? The ground rumbling up through the solid metal of this thing Luke insisted on calling an APC wasn't exactly helping him to think. He'd been vibrated enough that he was surprised that his guts were still on the inside of his body, and he was supposed to be dismantling a still while Luke both drove and gave orders from five feet and seventy-five hundred miles away.
The whole day was just one long reminder that Luke had lived a life without him. There ought to be a flip side to that, a way to look in the mirror and see Bo's important memories that didn't include Luke, but even turning things upside down and backwards, those experiences just didn't exist. If Luke didn't star in every scene of Bo's life that mattered, he was at least a supporting character. Missing the morning chores for a few years back there was no big deal; all it took was one or two words and Luke was up to speed on that.
Meanwhile there were all kinds of surprises that Luke could spring on him. Not that he ever did; Luke didn't like to talk about those years until suddenly he was giving Bo his first lesson in camouflage. Which totally dismissed all those years they had spent hiding Sweet Tilly from the feds, taking cover in thickets, culverts, streambeds, haystacks, whatever presented itself, even if it did resemble an outhouse. Replace a 'shine runner with a tank and suddenly Luke was teaching Bo how to do things he already knew – and didn't.
Okay, so the lesson turned out to have a few new wrinkles. They were no reason Luke had to set about acting like he had a whole world of knowledge that Bo needed to be taught.
Which was why Bo insisted on driving the tank, decided to be the one who would fix the thing, even though he'd never been under one before, and was why he had every intention of brining that particular piece of military equipment right back to the Boar's Nest without any help from Luke. And it was a shame that it didn't turn out that way, but once Enos started chasing them, Luke and his few tricks he learned in the Marines had to take over again.
It was a wild ride that ended with the Duke family and their friends bailing out of the moving tank and right into the remains of Boss's office. Into the hands of the law that had nothing on them, not with the evidence strewn all over the woods of Hazzard. Which meant that the Dukes walked away happily enough, Daisy with a silly medal pinned to her chest. She must've looked extra cute with that thing on her; either that or it gave Enos the excuse he'd been looking for all his life to stare at her chest. Whichever of those was closer to the truth, it was convenient enough in that she was able to sweet talk a ride home out of the deputy, and not just for herself, but the old men, too.
Bo and Luke struck out on foot for town and the General, which they'd left with L.B. Just one more chance for Sergeant Duke to show off those great military skills, cutting a straight path through the woods, no need to bother with a trail. Luke said town was that way, so they went exactly that way, regardless of brambles, creeks and old rock walls. Maintained a marching pace, too. One more damn Marine reference, and Bo was going to—
"Luke," he wound up shouting. It was supposed to be a request, but he was dang tired of being marched through branches that slapped back at him. "Slow down."
It was the way Luke looked over his shoulder at him that did it. Nothing more than that glance, familiar and patronizing. That and the opportunity Luke presented by stopping cold. He probably had something to say, like how he'd learned a thing or two in the Marines about speed walking and endurance. Bo would never know, what with the way he shoved Luke before all the big talk could begin.
"Why do you got to show off all the time?" he heard himself complaining. He was pretty sure he'd kept it from being a whine. Then again, once he found his balance, Luke turned with a nasty sort of laugh, so maybe Bo was wrong about that.
"What in the world are you talking about?"
That right there was the kind of thing Jesse never understood. That tone of voice was a thing Luke saved for the fumbling idiocy of the likes of Rosco P. Coltrane. When it got unleashed on Bo, there was no way he was going to control his fists.
So he didn't, just let them fly, one after the other like he hadn't in years. First one hit Luke somewhere high, maybe his face, but probably not. Even if it did, it couldn't have done too much damage, because Luke caught the second fist in the air, or just grabbed Bo's arm, and yanked. Dirty move, taking advantage of the momentum Bo already had, and maybe it was the roots of that big old tree looming over them, but suddenly Bo was rolling in the damned leaves. On his belly spitting dirt, staring at boots and the cuffs of those dark blue jeans, and somehow it went downhill from there.
Luke's hands under his arm and pulling him up sealed the deal. No way in hell was he getting helped out of the dirt by the man who had thrown him there, the same jerk that learned every damn important thing he needed to know in the Marines. In the neighborhood of halfway up, he head-butted his know-it-all cousin somewhere in the midsection. With Luke it was hard to tell the difference between bone and muscle.
He was down in the dirt again, this time half on top of his lumpy cousin. Reckoned he'd need the upper hand to handle the retaliation for pulling that kind of a maneuver, so he pulled his knees under him and lifted his weight onto his hands.
Bo was given the unexpected gift of time; he could tell by the way Luke's forehead was lined, his mouth gaped and the hands clutching at his stomach that it would be a few more seconds before his cousin found his breath. Which was good; it gave Bo a minute to crawl up over Luke and ready himself to pin whichever extremity Luke decided to fight with first. He'd be ready to go back to blows just as soon as he got his own breath even, which shouldn't be long. Really, his chest ought to stop heaving any second now and then he'd be in control of both himself and the situation. And it made no sense how everything just kept getting more ragged, his breathing, his thoughts, his anger, fraying away until it was just threads. Bo wound up down on his elbows, not touching Luke anywhere except where his head was resting on his shoulder. Eyes closed and gulping in air.
It was all wrong, how Luke's breathing evened out first, how he didn't throw Bo off but just relaxed underneath him. Somewhere in there a meaty hand made its way onto one of Bo's elbows, not moving, just resting there with all the warmth that was Luke. Waiting for him, pretty much what Bo had so abruptly asked him to do. He wanted to hit Luke for that, to make his cousin stop looking out for him that way. But even down on the ground like this, his weight poised above Luke's and ready to flatten him to the dirt whenever he tried to get up, Bo just wasn't his cousin's equal. That realization defeated any chance he had of controlling himself, which left him crying on Luke's shoulder like they were kids again.
To his credit, Luke didn't acknowledge what a mess Bo was making of himself, just laid there underneath him with that hand on his elbow, fingers twisting in his yellow shirt sleeve maybe, and waited. Accepted Bo's body when it sagged down onto his chest and used his free hand to push against Bo's knee in silent invitation to bear all of his weight. Another thing that should have made Bo mad, if he'd had any energy left. Instead he gave in and just rested mostly on top of Luke, enough of his weight off to the side that he figured he wouldn't crush him, anyway. Felt his own breathing hitch a few more times before it settled down to manageable.
"Tell me," Luke said, blowing Bo's hair back in the process. Old words, things Bo used to hear after nightmares or bad days at school that ended in black eyes.
See, it's just that walking fast and then fighting makes it hard for me to breathe. That was what he wanted to say, and Luke would probably let him get away with it.
"You ain't got to go rubbing the Marines in my nose all the time, Luke," was what actually came out.
"Okay," his cousin agreed, making Bo realize his mistake. Luke never wanted to talk about the military, it just happened. And it was those trickles of information that were like Chinese water torture – drip, drip, drip, when Bo knew there was a whole flood out there waiting to happen.
"Luke." It wasn't a whine, more of a sigh. Maybe it was the way his nose was clogged that made it sound all wrong. Had a strange effect on his cousin, making that hand that had been tangled in his shirt sleeve slide up to find a shoulder, while the other one wiggled out from where it had gotten trapped under Bo's hip, and wrapped itself partway around his waist. "I missed you. When you wasn't here."
"I know," his cousin answered, proving once again that there was nothing Bo could tell him that he hadn't already realized on his own. Again, anger would be useful, if he could muster it. Instead he wound up coughing out a single, wry little laugh. Pushed himself up onto his elbows; it was almost a shame that getting up off his cousin would probably necessitate looking at him.
"Bo," Luke said, the hand that was on his shoulder applying pressure, asking him not to move so far or so fast. Sliding then, finding its way closer to his face. "Ain't nothing I did in the Marines was half the fun as I have with you."
Not Jesse nor Preacher Martin nor God himself could blame him for kissing Luke after that. Doc Petticord might have a thing or two to say about it, but Luke didn't seem to. Might have been that he had a six and a half foot, blonde impediment to his speech; then again, that didn't exactly seem to be the case. As hard and fast as Bo pressed against him, Luke matched him with equal strength. Those fingers in his hair didn't exactly seem to be objecting either.
In fact, the closest thing to a balk came when Bo moved away. Not far, just enough to shift them to their sides, where experience told him there'd be more room to better align their bodies. He might just know more than his brilliant cousin on this one thing, fitting long torsos to shorter ones. So he countered that resistance with his own weight until Luke either had to come with him or lose the kiss. Luckily enough, his stubborn cousin gave in.
Sides were superior, allowing Bo the opportunity to capture both of Luke's legs with one of his then find the best angle for the rocking motion that was just finding its own rhythm. Bo also gained the long-arm advantage, looping the top one around Luke's shoulders and pulling him in close, touching everywhere he could, all at once.
Wasn't thrilled when Luke twisted out of the kiss. "Bo." Fought to bring Luke back to him; he didn't want to talk about it.
Got shoved, not hard, barely any distance, just a nudge from Luke's shoulder, asking for room. Didn't want to give in, but fighting to stay close to Luke would only drive him away, so Bo relented. Which turned out to be the right choice. Luke only wanted to find their belts and fumble with the clasps. Once he understood the task at hand, Bo got his own belt open, followed by the zipper. Kept tabs on Luke's progress, too, waiting to see whether the underwear was staying or going.
The answer was quick in coming, half on half off, hands inside of each other's, elastic waistbands shifting as necessary. The kiss was back, too, completing the circle, giving Bo everything he needed. Except a free hand to hold Luke – seemed important to do that but he'd been the one to trap his own arm underneath him, with his brilliant maneuver onto their sides. He'd have to make do with that leg, still mostly hooked over Luke's, and remember for the future that two arms were better than one. Never seemed to matter with girls, where the holding happened more easily but mattered less.
Sweating, out of breath again, same kinds of sounds in his throat as when he'd cried a few minutes ago. Luke's same calming presence and small touches, right up until there was no thought left, just feeling.
Panting in his ear, and Luke rolled away, not far, just onto his back. Bo followed, resting his head on Luke's chest, feeling the sweat right through his shirt, hearing the violent heartbeat under his ear. Made himself follow that sound, calm at the same rate it calmed, relax at the same moment it evened out.
Stayed there, no interest in moving away from Luke, until a big old hand found its way into his hair.
"Bo," vibrated under one ear and near the other.
"Don't." Had to take a breath and gather his thoughts into a clear sentence. "Go telling me you learned that trick in the Marines."
Got a low laugh in response, not what he wanted.
"I ain't learned it until just now," Luke promised him. It was enough to make a man want to start all over again.