anothercontinuity | Red vs Blue pt 2

Don’t ever change, Wash. Just don’t ever change.

Tucker took a seat at the bedside, watching him with the soft little smirk. Yeah, that was his fiancé, wasn’t it? Dramatic even when he couldn’t do cryptic one liners. All him, even through the fuzziness of drugs and pain, and his chest hurt with how much he loved him. With how it all felt looking at him and knowing he was going to live.

“I know, man. I don’t like it, either.” Because he didn’t; he would be in bed with Wash right now if he wasn’t terrified of ripping out something he actually needed. He wanted to be curled around him, wanted to touch him, want to sleep next to him. “But maybe they can start taking it away now that you’re awake. “

Yeah, that wasn’t’ happening; being awake didn’t mean he couldn’t still code, but Dr. Grey had been very certain about him surviving. He took a deep breath, then looked down at his hands for a second. “Want to know what happened?”

His skin itched with the need to be out of this bed, out from under these needles and tubes. But they were keeping him alive, he wasn't going to be here indefinitely, and Tucker was here. That...that last part probably meant more than the others, truth be told.

Slowly he let his head roll as much as it could to try and look at him where he'd settled down to sit, watching his expression, the movements of his hands, the little tells that gave so much away. Tucker had always been so terribly expressive, never one to do anything by degrees. That included worrying, apparently.

Part of him just wanted to slip back under, continue to rest. The more stubborn part of him wanted to finish putting the picture together, to try and understand what had happened to them. To him. Tucker posed the question and Wash just nodded, ever so slightly.

But at the same time he offered that hand out to him again. It's okay.

No. No, it really wasn't okay, but Wash was trying, so Tucker did, too.

He pulled his hands away from where one was picking at the armrest of the chair, the other spinning the engagement ring round and round and round; that's the one that he gave to Wash, his left. Red-threaded eyes looked at him, rolled, then looked at their hands instead. It was easier to look at that. It was easier not to see how his gaze were going to change when he knew the truth.

Dr. Grey would kill him for telling it, but Tucker knew Wash, knew that not knowing would just piss him off more. And he was drugged to hell and back, so he might have repeat this a few more times; whee. That would be fun, like a beautiful version of insanity where he kept repeating the same thing over and over agai--

"I don't know how much you remember." The words started slow and he raised his head enough to look at the bandages around his neck. "That dickcheese Temple had you down in this creepy Nightmare On Freelancer Street shit, locked down in your armor with Carolina." Armor that wasn't here, wasn't even allowed near the room. He and Grey agreed on that one.

"Locus - I know, right? - came and got you guys out, but you were fucked up pretty bad. I don't know how many days you were down there, but...you weren't making any sense. I don't even think you recognized me half the time, and it scared the hell out of me."

Terrified. Pissed. A mixture of both. A major piece of the puzzle.

"We were locked up, too, and that Walmart version of a Bond villain came down, yelled at Caboose, and showed us all the message he, like, spliced up to make it sound like a Church distress call." Church. Dammit. That burned, too close to losing Epsilon and his grief had swallowed him even when he tried to bury it, a beast beneath the surface.

"I was pissed, Wash! I was so fucking pissed! At them, at me! They nearly fucking killed you and Carolina, they yelled at Caboose, they just basically killed Church all over again, they got Sarge to turn against us, and they tricked me. Again! Just like Felix! It was Felix all over again, only worse because this asshole was bad at it and I still fell for it! Why the fuck did I do it? Why the fuck did I believe anything he said!?"

His hand was shaking in Wash's, trembling. He wanted to pull it away, wanted to pull back. He started to because this was where it got worse.

"So fuck stealth, I stormed in and started shooting. Temple and the assholes weren't even there; it was just some idiot zealots. I ran in for no reason because I just wanted to make someone pay and I didn't give a fuck about anything or anyone else." The shaking started to slip into his voice, edging along the words, and his eyes watered again. Fuck. He hated this part of the story.

"I wasn't keeping an eye on you. I should've. A leader should fucking know where his people are. Shit, your fiancé should know you are! But you were delirious and I didn't stop you and you wandered out and--"

Wash, get down!

"-some asshole shot you through the neck."

So Locus had been real. He remembered that, but though memories of Chorus had simply been bleeding in. With Tucker there to lay the groundwork it was easier to try and feel his way through the mass of disjointed thoughts and memories. The ones that still didn't make sense? He could probably let those go, push them aside.

But God, how must it have felt for Tucker? He'd already seen Wash lose his mind before, and to see him so close to breaking down again, to feel responsible for that, must have been a torment. The way he lit up as he spoke, Wash could see the anger flickering in every fiber of his being.

We all made mistakes, he wanted to say, this wasn't your fault. This wasn't your fault, it wasn't--

Feeling Tucker start to pull his hand away, Wash only tightened his grip. Don't, he seemed to say, as the last piece finally fell into place. He didn't remember the zealots or the danger, didn't even remember being shot. He remembered the sound of Tucker's scream, the desperation in his voice, echoing in his mind.

His throat? Was that why...

Slowly, his free hand lifted, fingertips brushing against the bandaging at his throat.

...oh.

Tucker stayed, let his hand stay because Wash wanted it. He still didn't think he deserved it, but it wasn't just his choice anymore. He wasn't crying, but his eyes were wet and the rage he had towards Temple and those losers were as much pointed at them as they were pointed at himself.

He watched him touch the bandages, and Tucker looked away.

"Yeah. Dr. Grey wants to talk to you about shit, about if it's going to heel and if...if you'll be able to ta...talk..."

"What I'm trying to say is...as much as you say I've helped you become a better person? You've done just as much for me. And truthfully, I don't want to think of where I'd be without you. I don't ever want to know."

At least you'd be able to form words. God, I fucking ruined your life! Like, multiple times!

"I'm sorry, Wash. I'm so fucking sorry. I thought I was getting better, I thought I was what you saw in me! I thought...I thought I wasn't this horrible fuckup anymore, but I am!" His free hand reached into his pocket, pulling out Wash's ring, setting it on the bedside table.

"I fuck up everything I touch."

Guess who he learned this melodrama from.

Maybe that fear wasn't unfounded. Maybe it was only because he was so tired, so heavy, that words felt so hard to get out. But even if he spoke in nothing but Meta-garble for the rest of his life, he was still alive. He'd wandered out of his own accord and gotten himself shot, and there was no way in Hell Tucker was allowed to take the blame for that.

Those fingers squeezed harder, trying to draw Tucker's focus back towards him as Wash shook his head. 'No', he mouthed carefully, and again his thumb moved to try and smooth over Tucker's dark skin. If he spoke, maybe that would fix things.

"..Nn...nahhh..." It was just so much air being pushed through his lungs, and his eyes fell shut again for a moment as he tried to pull it together. Just get the words out. Tell Tucker that it was fine, that they'd get through this, that he couldn't blame himself for not being his damn babysitter after he'd let himself get caught in the first damn place.

"...rrrrr...fa..."

When the fingers squeezed, when the thumb moved, Tucker looked up at him.No. Sure. Fine. It was super fucking easy to say that when you're three sheets to the wind on morphine and dilaudid; it didn't make it true.

...and then Wash was trying to speak, and Tucker didn't know what to do. This dumb fiancé of his was going to mess himself up more, and Tucker looked hesitantly to the door. God, don't let a nurse come in, or else he was getting kicked out for winding Wash up for sure. He knew it.

"Dude, you're just going to hurt yourself. Shhh. Relax, okay?" He reached over, combing his fingers through Wash's hair, hair he had rinsed the blood out of while he slept. The staff didn't like it, said it was their job, but he couldn't stare at it anymore, so he had done it anyway. Suck on that.

Now he just brushed it back, feeling it slide through his fingers. "Just think of the bright side: I guess...this means I'll always win arguments since you can't fight back. And the ceremony is going to be really fucking short, like, only half the time. You don't even have to think up vows or stuff."

He was trying to make a joke. He really, really was. It's just like with most of them: too soon.

No, he didn't want to shh or relax, because there were things that needed to be said. Things Tucker wouldn't accept until he heard them from Wash. But it just wasn't coming at the moment, and his teeth grit together for a moment in frustration.

Then, those fingers passed through his hair. Tucker was trying to soothe him, trying to joke through this, and he didn't have the heart to try and stop him. This was a burden he should never have had to carry in the first place. Wash should have kept himself in check, should have held himself back instead of wander out like an idiot to get himself shot.

"Mmm..."

Slowly, he started relaxing once more, watching Tucker talk and simply nodding once in response. Yeah. Wedding might be a lot shorter in that case, but that just meant getting to the honeymoon quicker, right?

Things he wished he could have said.

Tucker knew Wash enough to know that this? All of this? Was going to frustrate the hell out of him. Sure, it was the wires and the lines and beeping and the hospital, but that was something different, a different sort of frustration, a fear. No, it was the not talking that was going to piss him off the most. It's such a small, easy thing, something that could easily be taken for granted, something that most people didn't even think about.

Tucker didn't have the heart to tell him that one of the last things he said was literally, Uh oh, spaghettios.

His hands move slowly, nails lightly brushing over his scalp, moving back until he met the pillow and then starting at the temple and around the ear. He could feel Wash relaxing and that was good, that was really good; he needed to relax. He needed to sleep. He needed to let the meds do their work.

"I mean, that's cool, right? Everyone just wants to get to the reception anyway; people only come to weddings for the questionably hot drunk bridesmaids and the booze." Pillow. Start again. "And I'll have to think up some inventive new ways for safewords."

When his fingers hit the pillow this time, he slid them back behind Wash's head, leaning down to rest his brow to his fiance's. He looked into those drugged blue eyes and tried to smile. "I mean, if the Little Mermaid can get her Prince Charming without being able to speak, you should, too, right? And you're way fucking hotter. Always had a thing for blondes."

The corners of his eyes creased slightly as he smirked, and those hazy eyes took a gentler turn. Tucker leaned in, and Wash waited until he was looking him in the eye before moving his lips again. Slow. Deliberate.

I love you.

He always would. After everything they'd endured, this was not going to be the thing that broke them apart. It would not be the thing that defined them as unworthy of one another. It was a stray bullet in a firefight and no one's fault, save maybe Temple's.

Tucker would never admit how much he needed that.

He watched those lips move and he swore he could hear Wash actually say them, each syllable, the way his tone would rise and fall, the edge of softness that the guys didn't get, the Chorus army didn't know existed. Words first given to him when Tucker was struggling with his scar, and funny how it came around full circle.

He cherished it each time it was said, still by the only person who ever said it to him outside of his kid and his mom.

Tucker didn't say the words aloud; he didn't know why. Maybe some subconscious need for them to be equal, on the same footing, partners. But he followed suit, mouthed the words carefully so he could see them.

I love you, too.

Then he leaned down and kissed him. And sure, he could still taste the metallic penny hint underneath, could taste medicinal bullshit these places used, but he could also taste Wash, and that was all that mattered.

He couldn't really kiss back, not with any kind of energy. He couldn't even pull him in. But he tipped his head up, parted his lips to him, every sign there and flashing that yes, this was real, he still absolutely wanted this and him.

Those fears were for naught. And he'd do everything in his power to make sure Tucker knew that. He felt the words humming on Tucker's lips -- I love you, too -- and finally he left his eyes slide shut.

They'd figure out the rest. Whether he got his voice back or not.

He leaned up and kissed his forehead again as he let those eyes shut. Later, he'd make it a point to find a bracelet or something that he could put Wash's ring on so he could wear it until he was out of this place. Maybe it was silly, but... he just wanted them together, linked and happy. Like they should be.

Slinging one of his arms onto the bed, Tucker settled his cheek on it, watching him. Watching the monitors. Watching his chest rise and fall. Watching him. He sighed, feeling his own weariness dragging him down. He loved Wash. Wash loved him. It was going to be okay. They'd figure it out one way or another.

That's what they always did.

Maybe...maybe if he just closed his eyes for a minute...

Red vs Blue pt 2

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