Fuck, he was doing the thing again, the thing where Wash was comforting him instead of vice versa. Maybe it was what Wash needed: a job to do, a problem he could hope to control and solve, something to focus on rather than sitting in here. These walls were oppressive and the nurses weren’t that hot. The food? Yeah, that wasn’t hot, either. Temperature or in any other fashion.
Tucker slid into the offer of his arm only after pushing everything else out of the way and setting the bag on the table. Nothing to tangle in, no worries about ripping out lines, and he was more than content to just press into him, curl, be something. Not happy, but something.
“I never thought I’d say this, but I miss you bitching at me.” Not exactly that, more the snark, more the pressure, more the pushing to make him move than anything else. Even their bickering was satisfying. He missed Wash saying he loved him, but he didn’t necessarily need to hear it from him; he saw it in everything he did, every time he looked at Tucker. But the bitching…
“Mind just pointing and making running motions with your fingers while glaring at me? It’s almost the same thing.”
no subject
Tucker slid into the offer of his arm only after pushing everything else out of the way and setting the bag on the table. Nothing to tangle in, no worries about ripping out lines, and he was more than content to just press into him, curl, be something. Not happy, but something.
“I never thought I’d say this, but I miss you bitching at me.” Not exactly that, more the snark, more the pressure, more the pushing to make him move than anything else. Even their bickering was satisfying. He missed Wash saying he loved him, but he didn’t necessarily need to hear it from him; he saw it in everything he did, every time he looked at Tucker. But the bitching…
“Mind just pointing and making running motions with your fingers while glaring at me? It’s almost the same thing.”
He's kidding, Wash. Really.