[Wash is folding his laundry on the bed. He's taken to doing a lot of his chores in the bedroom, if only because it keeps him close to Tucker.]
It was far enough away from anyone I knew I didn't have to deal with the fallout from... you know. [Quitting his job to fuck monsters!!!!!!] That, and there's a bus stop nearby, rent is on the low end, and... it's one of the only places around here that allows cats.
[The corners of his lips turn up in a little smile. Of course it's the fucking low rent and cat allowances. He's taken to really liking them being around, they're soft. Easy to chill with.]
[He rolls to lay on his side, keeps his wings tiny now, too much effort to keep them big. He could almost look human, if not for the horns above the blanket.
He drifts for a second, comes back with a little jerk.] Uh-- Yeah. Other side of town, out of th' way.
[He eyes Tucker as he blinks listlessly. Tucker's been... in and out... lately. Wash knows he's not getting enough to eat, but he hasn't initiated anything with him and after the last time Wash is hesitant to. It's just never come up. He hadn't thought that was possible with Tucker.
[This is nice. Relaxing, even if the reason for it is shitty and... Well bad. Not feeding is really bad. He's tried not to think too much about though. It's getting easier to not.
He lifts his head to look Wash's direction at the question, didn't quite catch it.]
You aren't interested in sleeping with me anymore. [Shit. He's always too blunt.] It's fine if you don't want to, obviously, but you've been starving. You know I don't mind if you need to.
[His immediate kneejerk response because holy shit is that not the reason. It's a constantly daily struggle not to make a pass at him at the end of Wash's day when he climbs into bed. Or gets out of the shower. Or really any time these days.
He just didn't think Wash would really bring it up so directly. He's not sure how long it's been exactly but it feels too soon.]
Okay. Then what is it? We haven't in, what, a month? I know how hungry you are. You're barely getting up most days.
[Wash tries to say everything gently. Not sound accusatory. Will it fucking hurt if Tucker isn't into him anymore? Yes. Would Wash want to know anyway? Yes.]
It's- [Hown can he explain it? A few centuries of worrying what would happen if this ever came up again and Tucker never did figure out a resolution to it. He's left worrying and fretting over what might happen.
He rests his head back on the pillow to watch the window, the sun set outside. When he finally speaks, he's quiet]
I don't want to kill you.
[And he let's that sit. It's a big admission, coming from him, and he feels like that shouldn't be just it.] Church died too...
[That wasn't his fault, not directly, but he's always felt a little guilty about the small part he played in eating away at his life. And then his twin shortly after..]
[The implications of that settle in. Wash tries to keep the dawning horror off of his face. He had been so fucking wrong about all of this situation. It's not that Tucker doesn't care. It's that he cares too much.]
Church wasn't your fault, Tucker.
[That doesn't address any of the most important parts of this, but it's the only thing he has a response to right now. The rest is just -- he still has to process that.]
Tucker keeps his eyes glued to the window, terrified of seeing what Wash's face looks like now that he's been open. Vulnerable. He's never even told either of the Churches how much it eats at him about their deaths. He's sure they picked up on it some, but they have that unspoken agreement to not talk about it.
Still. He could go feed anywhere he wanted, but the fact of the matter is? He likes Wash. He likes being around Wash, likes being in a place that smells like him. It's been a long ass time since he's felt like just hanging out with a human and Wash wormed his way into his life to stay.]
I just- I don't want anything to happen to you. Not because of me.
Tucker, it's not enough it's going to kill me. Just enough to keep you from dying.
[Wash doesn't turn his face, or anything, but he sits on the bed next to him. Nevermind the laundry. This is a hell of a lot more important.
He likes Tucker. He likes being around him. Wash doesn't want him to have to starve, to look so goddamn gaunt and move so slow and -- on his account? Wash doesn't feel like that's worth it. He's going to die anyway. He's probably going to die early. Better that a year or whatever is shaved off to keep Tucker going.]
[As soon as Wash sits, Tucker readjusts himself for the weight. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter because Wash is going to die one day and if he keeps doing it, it'll be sooner than later. Church died too young, shouldn't have died so early.
Tucker reaches to grasp at the edge of his shirt at the waist, just between his thumb and forefinger, and turns to roll further onto his side and tuck his face against the pillow.]
Wash, I don't-- I can't wake up in the night to you dead. [Or show up to visit and everyone's at his funeral. Not again. Not a third time.]
You're not going to. [Well, maybe if he's with him that long. But Wash has never been planning to go in his sleep. He's ex-military now, but that doesn't change that he's expecting a bullet to do the job, not a heart attack.
With Tucker's face buried into the pillow, Wash doesn't have to train his face calm. He's free to furrow his brow while he tries to find the words that'll make this right. This whole time, Tucker's been fucking himself up on Wash's account. Wash isn't any good at talking to other people -- how is he meant to explain how much he wants this? To be just like they'd been?]
Tucker, I'd rather live a year or a few years less if the years I do get are with you.
[Tucker stills. The thought hits straight to his core, some part of him he forgot existed when Church died the first time. Someone actually wants to stick with him. A human wanting to stay with a life-sucking monster because it chooses to. He turns his head to look sidelong at him, eyes a little wet.]
... Dumbass.
[TucKER.]
Thought humans did shit to live longer, not die faster.
[Not that he seems to genuinely be affronted by the insult. Wash leans down to press a kiss to his hairline.]
Well. Some humans are just fucked up enough to work the wrong way. [A long pause again. He hadn't really expected it to work. Wash crawls a hand across the bed to run along Tucker's side, instead, feeling him out.]
[But he closes his eyes at the kiss - missed that intimacy, those little things. Not that he'd ever say it. Tucker squirms under his hand trying to get comfortable again.]
You're seriously... Really okay with this. With me eating your life away.
[An offhanded shrug.] I could take up smoking or drinking and it'd be even worse for me. I think of all the destructive habits I could have, having sex with you is one of the more benign.
And -- [yeah, that was kind of noncommittal, wasn't it. He cares about you, Wash. Show him the same.] yes. I'm okay with this.
[At least he's sitting up now. Wash shoots him an actual smile. He's still processing whatever the hell it is going on here, but they seem to have fixed it? That's -- well, that's a victory, alright, with Wash's negotiating skills.
The hand on Tucker migrates to the small of his back, pulling Tucker in against him. Just to be close, that's all.]
[Then Tucker better enjoy the spoils. Wash snorts, the pair of them winding around each other, Wash absently reaching to scratch at the base of Tucker's wings.]
Well, technically they were right. That's the fault of biology, though, not your tolerance.
[He loves Tucker like this, all gooey and happy. It's definitely incentive to keep scratching, getting right where the soft-leather wings meet Tucker's skin.]
You're not missing much. All of it tastes like being punched in the face.
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shorterpass2016-03-18 02:24 pm
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[Wash is folding his laundry on the bed. He's taken to doing a lot of his chores in the bedroom, if only because it keeps him close to Tucker.]
It was far enough away from anyone I knew I didn't have to deal with the fallout from... you know. [Quitting his job to fuck monsters!!!!!!] That, and there's a bus stop nearby, rent is on the low end, and... it's one of the only places around here that allows cats.
[BUSTED. THE REAL REASON REVEALED]
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[The corners of his lips turn up in a little smile. Of course it's the fucking low rent and cat allowances. He's taken to really liking them being around, they're soft. Easy to chill with.]
...Faces west, so good choice.
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[His tone is joking. Wash folds a shirt neatly, putting it on his already-folded pile.]
Do you have a place of your own? I don't think I've ever asked.
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He drifts for a second, comes back with a little jerk.] Uh-- Yeah. Other side of town, out of th' way.
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[He eyes Tucker as he blinks listlessly. Tucker's been... in and out... lately. Wash knows he's not getting enough to eat, but he hasn't initiated anything with him and after the last time Wash is hesitant to. It's just never come up. He hadn't thought that was possible with Tucker.
It's getting bad. He has to say something.]
Why aren't you feeding off me anymore?
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[This is nice. Relaxing, even if the reason for it is shitty and... Well bad. Not feeding is really bad. He's tried not to think too much about though. It's getting easier to not.
He lifts his head to look Wash's direction at the question, didn't quite catch it.]
Huh?
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[His immediate kneejerk response because holy shit is that not the reason. It's a constantly daily struggle not to make a pass at him at the end of Wash's day when he climbs into bed. Or gets out of the shower. Or really any time these days.
He just didn't think Wash would really bring it up so directly. He's not sure how long it's been exactly but it feels too soon.]
That's not what it is...
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[Wash tries to say everything gently. Not sound accusatory. Will it fucking hurt if Tucker isn't into him anymore? Yes. Would Wash want to know anyway? Yes.]
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He rests his head back on the pillow to watch the window, the sun set outside. When he finally speaks, he's quiet]
I don't want to kill you.
[And he let's that sit. It's a big admission, coming from him, and he feels like that shouldn't be just it.] Church died too...
[That wasn't his fault, not directly, but he's always felt a little guilty about the small part he played in eating away at his life. And then his twin shortly after..]
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[The implications of that settle in. Wash tries to keep the dawning horror off of his face. He had been so fucking wrong about all of this situation. It's not that Tucker doesn't care. It's that he cares too much.]
Church wasn't your fault, Tucker.
[That doesn't address any of the most important parts of this, but it's the only thing he has a response to right now. The rest is just -- he still has to process that.]
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[Or his twin.
Tucker keeps his eyes glued to the window, terrified of seeing what Wash's face looks like now that he's been open. Vulnerable. He's never even told either of the Churches how much it eats at him about their deaths. He's sure they picked up on it some, but they have that unspoken agreement to not talk about it.
Still. He could go feed anywhere he wanted, but the fact of the matter is? He likes Wash. He likes being around Wash, likes being in a place that smells like him. It's been a long ass time since he's felt like just hanging out with a human and Wash wormed his way into his life to stay.]
I just- I don't want anything to happen to you. Not because of me.
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[Wash doesn't turn his face, or anything, but he sits on the bed next to him. Nevermind the laundry. This is a hell of a lot more important.
He likes Tucker. He likes being around him. Wash doesn't want him to have to starve, to look so goddamn gaunt and move so slow and -- on his account? Wash doesn't feel like that's worth it. He's going to die anyway. He's probably going to die early. Better that a year or whatever is shaved off to keep Tucker going.]
That seems pretty worth it to me.
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Tucker reaches to grasp at the edge of his shirt at the waist, just between his thumb and forefinger, and turns to roll further onto his side and tuck his face against the pillow.]
Wash, I don't-- I can't wake up in the night to you dead. [Or show up to visit and everyone's at his funeral. Not again. Not a third time.]
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With Tucker's face buried into the pillow, Wash doesn't have to train his face calm. He's free to furrow his brow while he tries to find the words that'll make this right. This whole time, Tucker's been fucking himself up on Wash's account. Wash isn't any good at talking to other people -- how is he meant to explain how much he wants this? To be just like they'd been?]
Tucker, I'd rather live a year or a few years less if the years I do get are with you.
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... Dumbass.
[TucKER.]
Thought humans did shit to live longer, not die faster.
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[Not that he seems to genuinely be affronted by the insult. Wash leans down to press a kiss to his hairline.]
Well. Some humans are just fucked up enough to work the wrong way. [A long pause again. He hadn't really expected it to work. Wash crawls a hand across the bed to run along Tucker's side, instead, feeling him out.]
You gonna stop starving yourself?
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[But he closes his eyes at the kiss - missed that intimacy, those little things. Not that he'd ever say it. Tucker squirms under his hand trying to get comfortable again.]
You're seriously... Really okay with this. With me eating your life away.
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And -- [yeah, that was kind of noncommittal, wasn't it. He cares about you, Wash. Show him the same.] yes. I'm okay with this.
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Long as you're sure.
...Drinking's pretty fun from what I've seen at least. Not 's fun as sex, but still.
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[At least he's sitting up now. Wash shoots him an actual smile. He's still processing whatever the hell it is going on here, but they seem to have fixed it? That's -- well, that's a victory, alright, with Wash's negotiating skills.
The hand on Tucker migrates to the small of his back, pulling Tucker in against him. Just to be close, that's all.]
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Nah, I tried once. Got sick as hell after a couple sips.
[Fuuuuck, that smile though. He works so hard to get that smile out of him.]
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Was this with Church?
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No, it was when we met Grif and Simmons. Didn't think I could handle it, keep it down.
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[He loves Tucker like this, all gooey and happy. It's definitely incentive to keep scratching, getting right where the soft-leather wings meet Tucker's skin.]
You're not missing much. All of it tastes like being punched in the face.
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