From The Great Hazzard Hijack, this one was a bit tricky. Luke really liked the girl, or the idea of the girl at the very least. And that kept things from progressing all the way to the relationship stage... the seeds could merely be planted.
Luke was not upset. That was the point of him shrugging Bo's hand away from his shoulder, the reason he wouldn't look anyone in the eye. He wasn't troubled and no one, least of all some sweet little sister-of-a-wife-of-a-friend with pretty eyes and perfectly curved if slightly wide hips, had hurt him. He'd only spent the night before getting to know her better because she didn't matter a bit to him, and Luke was known for doing things that had no meaning. (Actually, once upon a couple of years ago, he had been, but that had stopped somewhere along the time a red-headed race car driver had turned his head and broken his heart. Of course, Luke hadn't been upset then, either.)
"Luke," he tried again, because no one else would dare. Oh, maybe Jesse would try something, but that effort would distill itself down to a lecture about how bad days and lying women didn't give Luke a right to go smarting off at his family like that, and how Luke was too old to go hiding in the barn. It would do exactly what Jesse wanted it to do, make Luke pretend to be civil until it became such a habit that everyone settled into the rhythm of it, and peace was maintained. But Bo knew, through a lifetime of being closer to Luke than anyone else ever got, that Jesse's method would lead to them all having only the veneer of Luke for weeks, maybe months, until his cousin sorted though everything alone. And having the ghost of Luke for a companion was maybe lonelier than having no Luke at all.
What his cousin really needed was to be cornered until he did smart off, and to hide in the barn with just Bo to bear witness to whatever came of it. It was the only hope, really, for anything better than going through the motions for longer than Bo figured he could stand.
"You believed her." No question about it, all that had to happen was words coming out of Kate's mouth, and Luke was ready to break into the Boar's Nest at the crack of dawn, buck naked and singing the National Anthem, just because she said it would be fun.
"Don't matter none, Bo." Of course it didn't. The only thing that mattered, apparently, was scrubbing Maudine's stall with the equivalent of a toothbrush, down on all fours and looking for the dirt under the shit.
"No, I suppose it don't," Bo agreed, leaning his shoulder against the weight-bearing post nearest the middle of the barn, far enough away from Luke to break into a run, if circumstances required it. "I mean, it ain't like you actually cared for her or anything."
Oh, the shit was going to pay for that. Look how little bits of it flew away from where Luke was scraping at it. "She don't matter, Bo." Obviously not. The only woman in Luke's life was Maudine, and he was going to take good care of the missus, even if he had to rip his hands to shreds to do it, even if those muscles came tearing right out of his bare back with the effort.
"Of course she don't," Bo answered sounding as casual as he could, considering he was probably going to die within the next five minutes. "That's why you won't look at me." And here came those glowering blue eyes, looking over Luke's shoulder at him for all of two seconds. And back to the highly fascinating mule shit.
"Happy?" got growled in there somewhere.
Here went nothing. "You're a chicken, Luke Duke."
It wasn't fast, the way Luke moved. Slow and fluid, giving Bo plenty of time to contemplate the hereafter and whether pain followed you into death. Seemed a shame to spend eternity with his pretty nose all busted up, but Bo stood his ground anyway, beyond the point where turning tail and running would get him anywhere near the safety of the house. Which was all right, Luke wasn't mad, yet. He was curious and maybe amused in an I'm-going-to-give-you-a-chance-to-explain-that-before-I-beat-the-tar-out-of-you kind of way. "Chicken?" he asked, shaking his head at stupid cousins who really ought to know better by now.
"Chicken," Bo parroted, standing up from where he'd been leaning, then sticking out his chest, just to remind Luke who was bigger here.
"You want to explain that?" No, not really. Wasn't entirely sure what he meant by it, though Luke would probably end his miserable attempts to explain with an oddly welcome set of knuckles smashing against his lips.
"I don't care," Bo said, and suddenly there were honest words coming out of his mouth. Damn it, who invited them to this party? "If you loved her or if you didn't. And I don't care if you thought Phil was your friend, but he wasn't. I just don't think you should be walking away from your family."
"My family?" And Luke was so close that his scorn and anger could burn a man if he wasn't careful. "I ain't walked away, I'm right here, Bo."
"Your body is, but you ain't. You're down there wallowing in mule manure, or off in…" Damn it, no fair when his body betrayed him like this. His mouth had almost blabbered the whole thing, his eyes were burning, threatening to spill over, his breath was coming in ragged gasps. It only took a second to go from making a valid point to weeping like the little boy he hadn't been since…
Before Luke went over there. Before he almost killed himself, apparently. Before Phil saved him and damn it, he ought to be grateful to Luke's old buddy for that much, but he wasn't. Wanted to hit the man before he even knew for sure that Phil was playing them. Wanted to kill him for the crime of having been there when Luke needed him, and that was… Bo was the one who saved Luke. That was the way it had always been and should have stayed.
Luke had backed off his chest, cold breeze where his cousin should have been. He hadn't gone far though, just enough to cock his head and look up, brilliant blue eyes curious more than concerned. It wasn't like he'd never seen Bo turn into a sputtering idiot before; he just wanted to know why he was being treated to that particular brand of entertainment right now.
"Off in where, Bo?" But there was no getting the word past his lips, and Luke knew what it was anyway.
"You…" He shook his head, trying to clear it, but Luke put a hand on each of his shoulders, limiting his range of motion. "You could have died," Bo finally settled on, had to swallow a couple dozen times afterward. "Why didn't you tell me?" And that was the real betrayal, right there. Kate might have hurt Luke, but she'd only known him two days. Twenty-odd years of sharing every damn thing, and Luke had never bothered to tell him how close he'd come to dying in Vietnam.
Big sigh, and as near as Luke was to him, Bo could feel the air from it hitting his own bare chest.
"What good would it have done?" None, really. Except Bo wouldn't have gotten surprised like this, shocked and angry. He would have been past those feelings years ago, within a few weeks of Luke coming back. Wouldn't have had to swallow that nasty pill and keep it down churning in his stomach for two days while Luke spent time with his old friend (his savior) and made eyes at the man's supposed sister. "I'm sorry, Bo. I was just trying to…"
Protect him. That was what Luke always did, even if Bo fought him on it every step of the way. It was just wearing those same comfortable old boots, the way Luke looked after him, the way Bo let him do it. Shoot, they were smack-dab in the middle of it again: his cousin had lost the girl, been conned and used by an old friend, and somehow it all turned into Luke taking care of Bo.
So Bo slipped his arms around Luke's ribs and pulled him into a tight-fitting hug, felt the arms go around his neck and shoulders. Rubbed a hand up and down Luke's spine, pressed his face into Luke's hair.
"I'm sorry they hurt you, Luke," he said, felt Luke's head burrow into his shoulder a little harder, felt the moment his cousin gave in and let himself be loved. And that would have to be enough for today. Luke had really liked the girl, and wasn't ready for the other half of what Bo wanted to say to him.