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...
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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...