The longest chapter yet. This is slowly becoming more fiction than canon, which is how I originally intended it to go, it just took some time to separate from the true storyline. I will continue to follow the canon story, but will also deviate where I want to to make it more French/Buck centric. Enjoy!

Back in the car again. French was getting sick of being stuck in the car with these five already, well, four. And they still had hundreds of miles to go. But somehow that conversation with Steve had gone well. Really well. He hadn't expected coming out to Steve of all people to be met with laughter and jokes and acceptance. But that's what happened. He couldn't help but feel more grateful than anything as they drove alone. He didn't doubt Buck's acceptance, or BBA's. Or even Angie's. Jesse was unknown, but Steve was the greatest unknown, and he felt that Jesse would probably follow along with the rest.

French had woken early, still trapped underneath Buck on the pew. His back was killing him, as he expected it would, and his feet were freezing. But with Buck practically in his lap, laying on his chest with his nose against French's neck… French couldn't possibly complain. He had come to a sort of acceptance last night before he fell asleep. He like Buck as much more than a friend, and deep down he had known it for a long time. He had accepted he was gay long ago but coming to terms with liking a friend was another thing entirely. Laying there in the dark, Buck holding onto him as tightly as he was holding onto Buck, he could almost believe that maybe Buck liked him, too.

He had laid there as long as he could manage, but awake now, he was all too aware of his body's physical needs. And aside from the hard-on he definitely didn't want Buck to feel when he woke up, he really had to pee, and his cold feet and aching back were starting to bother him more than ever. When he finally had gotten up, Angie was the only one awake. She was sitting up in a pew across from them, and she shot him a knowing smile as French extricated himself from Buck as gently as he could. He ignored her, laying Buck gently onto his jacket that he had been using as a pillow that night, and tucking his own jacket tighter around his sleeping form. French felt a surge of protectiveness seeing Buck sleeping like that. He looked so small, so angelic. He had wanted to kiss Buck's head, just a press of the lips against Buck's hair, but it felt wrong to do so. To take what he wanted from this angelic boy without permission. So, he had left him there sleeping on the pew alone.

French shook himself back to the present. He was in the front seat this time, BBA driving and Buck giving directions to the nearest gas station. They hadn't talked about last night, and although French felt like they should, he realized that maybe Buck didn't think much of it. Or maybe he didn't even really remember it, half asleep as he had been. The only real interaction they had had that morning was Buck handing back French's jacket with a small "thanks".

When they got to the gas station, French thought about trying again to get the seat next to Buck when they got back on the road. This time he didn't feel guilty or dirty for wanting it so badly. He had accepted his feelings and wasn't going to feel bad about it anymore. He went inside to grab some waters for everyone while Steve filled up the tank. The gas station was small and derelict, but the important thing was that they were cheap.

When he walked out of the gas station with a bag of water bottles and Steve's Red Vines, he noticed Steve and Angie leaning against the station wagon, watching him and whispering to each other. Buck and the others were all around the car, stretching their legs for a bit before being trapped in the car for another few hours. He gave Steve and Angie a wary glance as he handed them their waters. He passed out a water bottle to each of them, coming to lean on the station wagon beside Buck. French handed him his water bottle, and Buck looked up at him with a small smile.

"Thanks." He said. He seemed to want to say more but decided against it. French wanted to ask Buck what was on his mind, but he was keenly aware of Steve and Angie not-so-surreptitiously watching them from the other side of the car.

When they started to get back in the car, Steve offered to drive.

"Jesse, you're with me." Steve told him. Jesse shrugged and got into the front seat.

French looked at Steve suspiciously, but Steve was avoiding his eyes. His suspicions were confirmed, however, when Angie asked if she could sit in the very back to "stretch her legs out for a while."

That left him, BBA and Buck in the middle row, and Buck being the smallest of the three, would be in the middle.

So, he was right to be wary of Steve and Angie, but he couldn't help but be a little grateful, too. They had driven some 200 miles, with multiple stops and car rearranging's, and he had yet to sit Buck.

Buck, for his part, seemed oblivious to the fact that Angie and Steve had sat him next to French on purpose. He just climbed into the middle seat buckled up. He seemed so nonchalant about it, while French's heart seemed likely to beat out of his chest. It was stupid, he told himself, to feel so nervous when just last night he had had Buck on top of him all night. But all that memory served to do was make him more nervous. It didn't take him long to calm down though, the casualness of everyone around him soothed his nerves.

Angie was the first to fall asleep, stretched out in the back with her head lolling against the back of the middle row seat. BBA fell asleep next, a sweater balled up to serve as a pillow and barrier between her head and the rattling car window. Jesse and Steve were talking quietly in the front seat, about what, French couldn't bring himself to care.

Eventually, Buck looked up at him. "I'm sorry about last night." He told him.

French looked at him in shock. "What?"

Buck looked away, a light blush covering his cheeks. "I didn't mean to fall apart like a baby." He said quietly.

French reached across himself to take Buck's right hand with his own, his left arm trapped between them in such a way that he couldn't use it to hold onto Buck.

"Don't be sorry," He told Buck earnestly. "Please."

Buck looked up at him again, eyes big, searching French's face for something, though French didn't know what. Whatever it was, he seemed to have found it, because he simply said "Okay" then he laid his head on French's shoulder.

French watched the top of Buck's head for a moment, then extracted his left arm from between them to wrap around Buck's shoulders and draw him in closer. They were still holding hands, and now Buck's head was against his chest. French wondered briefly if Buck could feel what he was doing to his heartbeat. Then he closed his eyes and dropped his head to Buck's, breathing the boy in, relief flooding him at the acceptance of his touch. At Buck's closeness. He felt as if every hurt he had ever been dealt would be healed if he could just hold onto Buck like this forever. He opened his eyes briefly to see Steve looking at them in the rearview mirror, smiling smugly. Part of him wanted to flip Steve off, part of him wanted to thank him for rearranging the car to help French be near Buck. But all of him just wanted to revel in the feeling of being close to Buck, so he closed his eyes and lost himself in feeling. And for the second time in a row, he slept a sweet, dreamless sleep.

French woke again sometime later to Steve going on about some actor with the same name as him. French didn't move from his spot, scared to wake Buck and have him move from where was quickly becoming French's favorite place for him.

"Who's Steve McQueen?" Jesse asked.

"What?" Steve exclaimed. "Dude you don't fucking-"

He was cut off as they ran over something on the road. Steve slammed on the brakes and yelled "Fuck!" As French instinctively clutched Buck tighter.

Something hit their windshield, then rolled onto the ground in front of them.

"What'd we hit?" Angie asked from the back.

Buck was the first to recover. "Oh god, oh shit shit shit shit" He said repeatedly as he scrambled for his jacket. He reached over French and was trying to get out the door before French could even get out of his way. The mirror. The rest of them scrambled out after Buck, coming to stand around the mirror. Jesse walked to the back of the car to see what they hit.

"What are we gonna do?" BBA asked.

"Steve, it's over." Buck said. "What the fuck!"

Steve looked up from where he was crouched by the mirror, clearly offended at Buck's implication that this was somehow his fault. But he let it go. "We can still take it." He offered.

"No, no, no, no, no. No." Buck repeated it over and over, panic overtaking rational thought.

French didn't know what to do to comfort Buck. They all stood around the mirror, wondering what to do. He looked up and noticed that Angie was turned away from the rest, and he looked to where she was watching Jesse, just in time to see Jesse raise a huge rock over his head, then he heard the sickening splatter of whatever Jesse had just killed. He did it out of mercy, and yet French felt sick at the thought. He knew he wouldn't have had the strength to do that, even if it was merciful. Then he wondered if it was strength that gave Jesse the guts to do that, or something else.