anothercontinuity | Red vs Blue pt 2

Wash seems surprised as well, that Locus assumes they'll need the space. He understands it, though, as soon as he thinks about it.

"I actually thought you'd be able to stay with us," he says, not phrasing it as a given - again, he gets it. "Tucker's right, though - if you want a place with your own space, that's not a problem."

And then, he turns to Tucker, poking him between two pieces of armor. "Around the kitchen isn't a lap for anyone but Grif."

They said it so easily. Like it would be the natural thing, to let him into their home. Going very still and very quiet until both had spoken their piece of the matter, he let his gaze shift to Tucker. His answer was perhaps the more surprising, given that...

Well, things had occurred between him and Washington, he'd expect him to have developed some sense of rapport. But Tucker?

"...you're certain?" Funny. Locus wasn't a shy sort of person, but there was something almost trepidatious about the way he asked. As though he were expecting him to take it back at any moment.

There was a little yelp as he was poked, a scowl over his lips. "Anything in the kitchen is like amusement park for Grif. And you'll just do like a hundred laps around it. Stop ruining the joke."

He let his eyes settle to Locus, heard that cautious step in his voice. Okay, he expected it, was fucking glad for that, really; maybe he'd know how important it was that he didn't start shit. The ground still shook with aftershocks in this mess, and it wouldn't go away, not yet, not for awhile. But all earthquakes stopped at some point. The earth always stilled.

Maybe this would, too.

"You know I can't handle Hurt Wash on my own." There was a roll of his shoulders as he rested his hand against the Freelancer's shoulder; he wanted to comb his fingers through his hair, but fuck, touching him anywhere above the shoulders? Yeah, that terrified him. "He's a stubborn little shit and he's not going to listen to me. But, maybe he'll actually pay attention to someone stronger than him."

"I listen to you," Wash says, then, under his breath, "When it's not ridiculous."

Then he clears his throat, looking at both of them bedore he settles on looking at Locus, knowing that staring him straight on could be good or bad depending.

"And I want you with me - us." It had nothing to do with winning any arguments or strength. He just wanted Locus nearby - a fact he reassures by reaching up and patting an arm.

It's an acceptance he wasn't quite expecting. Being an adjunct while Washington recovered, before he had his life back as he knew it? He could wrap his head around that. But having a place in that life was not on the table, not as he'd understood it.

It seemed once again, he'd assumed incorrectly.

Tucker touching Wash touching him, a chain that was forging itself here in front of their eyes, a connection that in months prior he might have shied away from. Instead, there's a thread of longing there, a weariness to his eyes as they lift. This is for Washington, in truth, but Locus has been alone for a long, long time.

He doesn't like it as much as one might assume, given his introverted nature.

"I would hate to disappoint," he finally manages, the dry, crackling edges of a joke, even if his expression remains dead solemn.

“…nice save, Wash.”

A little annoyed, but not jealous. Tucker didn’t get jealous often, a lowkey feeling he reserved more for his friends not acknowledging him more than any romantic setting he had. He wanted attention, but it was more catlike than anything: pet me, stroke me, shower me with affection but go on when you want. He just wanted to make sure he wasn’t left out, or abandoned, forgotten.

Really, all that mattered to him was that Wash was happy. Not that he would ever admit it.

And Locus’ joke was bad, hard to even tell with that deadpan default of it, but goddamn if Tucker didn’t feel the Come-Get-Some sparks just shooting up from here. “Just shut up and make out already, but at least let me get the camera first. I bet I could make good money for Freelancer/Merc porn.”

That’s how you do a joke, Locus. Or make money. Either or.

Wash still hasn't clued in to Tucker's concern. He himself would say he's not here to replace Tucker with Locus in any way, shape or form. The joke, though, gets him looking up at Locus with a little quirk of an eyebrow. Wash turns and gives Tucker such a look - before he smiles a little bit.

"Tucker," he says sweetly, "If I'm not allowed to do anything strenuous, what makes you think that there's going to be anything like that going on?"

Think about that, Lavernius.

Locus just shook his head, eyes rolling shut. No. It was unlikely Washington would be fit for anything like that, at least for some time. Something that would see Tucker wound up in the weeks to follow, he was certain.

Perhaps he ought to go check on the navigation again.

"A subject we can discuss from somewhere more comfortable. The journey will be a few hours long, at least."

"Oh, don't act like you've never just laid around and let someone do all the work for you, Wash." You're going to come at him like that? Really? Because Tucker has an answer for everything if it comes to sex, and you're not about to sway or dissuade him. He's better than that.

Locus caught his attention again, and Tucker couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Is this a 'change into something comfortable' sort of reference, or 'shut up til we're home'? Because unless there's a bed hiding somewhere, I think this is as comfortable as it gets until we're home.

"And if there is a bed in here, fuck, kinky, man. Kinky."

"Not that it matters, but generally I don't," Wash tells Tucker with his own roll of his eyes. "Also - no, there is not a bed."

But Wash finally stretches in his chair a little, settling back against it fully. "I might take a nap, though."

Red vs Blue pt 2

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