shorterpass | MONSTER AU MASTERPOST

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..]

I --

[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.]

Didn't fucking help him, though.

[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.

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.]

That seems pretty worth it to me.

[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.

Wow. And here I was being sincere.

[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?

So was I.

[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.

[He sits a minute, then rolls onto his back to better look at his face, uses the hand still holding Wash's shirt to pull himself to sit up.]

Long as you're sure.

...Drinking's pretty fun from what I've seen at least. Not 's fun as sex, but still.

Would it even work for you? Drinking, that is.

[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.]

[He's pulled close and Tucker blinks slowly before leaning against him some. A second more and he relaxes his tail around him.]

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.]

[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.]

Was this with Church?

[That just relaxes him more, gets Tucker melting in a puddle against Wash.]

No, it was when we met Grif and Simmons. Didn't think I could handle it, keep it down.

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.

Mmm. [Tucker arches his back into the touch before slowly moving to lay across Wash's lap. Anything to stay comfortable like this; he's still exhausted.]

Maybe, but they don't know that.

[Oh no. Tucker had waited until he was away from them to puke it back up.]

Well, good. I'm glad your reputation is solid.

[Wash moves his legs for Tucker to splay himself across his thighs. He's been so damn bone-tired lately, Tucker sleeping at all hours instead of during day.

It occurs to him, then, that maybe he won't have the energy for sex at all -- which might, metaphorically, fuck them.

So it's down to him to make it happen. Wash takes his hands back, runs them deliberately forward and along Tucker's hips, thumbs tracing their outline.]

Yep. Can't let them know it, they'd take advantage.

[Like Wash is now. Not that Tucker's minding it right now. It's been a while since he's been touched like this, let anyone touch him like this, it's nice. He definitely doesn't have the energy to initiate anything himself, but Wash is doing fine starting on his own.]

Feeling like you need something, huh?

Feels like I might, yeah.

[He wants Tucker vibrant again. He's always been lazy, obviously, but he's never gotten used to him this faint. Feels wrong.

... well, okay, and Wash has missed sex. He'd gotten used to it. Leaning over Tucker in his lap, he's in the perfect spot to reacquaint himself with Tucker's body, to skate his hands along the outside of his thighs. Just the outside, for now. Doesn't want things too abrupt.]

[He hums easily, feels that rolling want off Wash and shifts to be more comfortable. Lets Wash get to him more easily. Has to work to keep his wings out of the way though.

He almost sounds breathless when he talks, like Wash's touches are the first fresh drink of water in the desert.]

What do you wanna do?

Uh --

[Fuck. Wash still isn't good at voicing his desires, not until the hormones knock him TOTALLY stupid, anyway, and unable to remember shame.

Their options are limited only by the fact Tucker's tired. Honestly, Wash doesn't mind the excuse. He's missed touching Tucker direly, missed knowing what it felt like to be this close to him.]

Let me think about that. Right now I just want this.

[Just the closeness. If Wash wants to revive Tucker, you bet he'll take the lead. He busies himself running his palms across Tucker's hips, up his sides, across his chest, collarbone. Reminding himself about how damn good skin contact is.]

[Tucker practically purrs at the attention, leans into it where he can. It's been too long since he let Wash just touch him. God he wishes he wasn't so exhausted, he'd do a lot more than just lay back and let him have this.]

Just this, huh? You sure?

[He can at least work with his tail. That takes almost no effort, wrapping it around Wash's waist and playing with the waistband of his pants. Not even going further, just teasing, as much as he has the energy to.]

Oh, shit. [Fucking Tucker. He knows how weak Wash is to his tail. Just something about it coming out of nowhere like that.]

I -- might want those gone. [Wash squirms a little as the point of Tucker's tail slips just barely into his pants. At least Tucker barely wears clothes. Embarrassing? Yes, extremely. But it makes it very easy to get down to business. Which is, of course, why he does it.]

You're going to have to get off of me if I'm going to take off my pants.

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