Chapter Text
"If you're asexual, how come you kissed me?" was Tucker's first question.
Wash's face was what one might call lightish-red. "Well…I happen to enjoy it," he said awkwardly. "People have different preferences…to me, kissing is just a sign of affection."
Tucker thought this over. "Does it make me weird if I don't like it?"
Wash shook his head quickly. "Not at all."
"Okay." Tucker felt uneasy. "Did you ever act like you, y'know, liked it…or pretended you were attracted to someone?"
Wash nodded slowly. "I used to, all the time. During Project Freelancer…" He shook his head, smiling slightly. "I thought it would be the ultimate crime to them, me being like this. In fact," he said thoughtfully, "it was during that time when I learned about who I am, too. It was…yes, it was South. She was never afraid to call anyone out on anything." He chuckled. "One time she was teasing me about spending so much time with…uh, one of the other agents, and I got so fed up with her innuendos that I just exclaimed to her, 'We don't do that!' She was kind of offended that I'd yell at her like that, but then a few moments later she said 'So are you asexual, then?' I had no idea what it meant, either. She managed to be serious for long enough to explain it to me. After that…" He shrugged. "It wasn't so hard to get rid of the idea that I was a freak. I knew that there were other people like me."
Tucker was silent. Wash added, "I think that's why I was so…forward, with kissing you. Because of the freelancers." He chuckled dryly. "I got all my tips from people who specialize in forcing their way into buildings occupied by armies." He shook his head in disapproval at himself.
Tucker smiled halfheartedly, staring at the floor. "I guess that makes sense," he said distractedly.
There was silence again.
"But, Wash…" Tucker began quietly. "I don't even like being touched." His throat tightened as he tried to blink away the stinging in his eyes.
"I know, it's okay--"
"Not really!" Tucker snapped. "How messed up must I be, that I cringe when our shoulders touch? How can that be 'normal?'" He put a hand to his forehead, trying to keep himself from panicking again. "How in hell am I supposed to show you that I love you when I can't even bring myself to hold your hand?" His voice cracked. It only fueled his frustration. "I'm fucked up. I always have been." He clenched a fist around the blanket. "I'm supposed -- to kiss you. I'm supposed to hug you. I'm supposed to hold you and…want you. But I don't. I can't…can't make myself do it." He closed his eyes tightly. "I wish I could make you happy. I wish I could do what you like. It's not even sex!" he exclaimed incredulously at the ceiling. "He doesn't even want sex! Not even close to it…he just…wants…" He stopped, breathless, releasing the blanket from his grasp. He dropped his head and leaned into Wash's chest. "I'm supposed to be able to...do that..."
Wash cautiously put an arm around Tucker, supporting him. "Listen," he said gently. Tucker nodded once. "You're not 'supposed' to do anything, you hear me? You deserve to choose what you do and don't want to do." He rubbed Tucker's back slowly, trying to get him to breathe normally. "And it doesn't matter what I want."
"It matters to me," Tucker interrupted quietly.
"I appreciate that, but if it's something that makes you uncomfortable, then I don't want to do it," Wash said with certainty. "The physical stuff -- even if you think it shouldn't be that extreme, like kissing -- I can live without. Living without you, though…not as easy." He held Tucker's head to his shoulder.
Tucker mumbled something inaudible. Wash pulled away quickly, sitting up. "God damn it, I'm sorry--"
Tucker glanced sideways at him and shook his head. "It's okay," he said tiredly. "That wasn't bad." He gave a small smile.
Wash half-smiled too, though he was admittedly confused -- why didn't that contact bother Tucker? "Okay, good," was all he said in response.
Tucker glanced down. "Sorry about the..." He tilted his head at the blanket. It was slightly torn where Tucker had grabbed it.
"Don’t worry about it," Wash assured him gently.
They were silent for a few minutes. Tucker eventually moved over to his own bed, lying down on his back. Wash did the same.
They stared at the ceiling. After nearly half an hour Tucker's breathing was finally back to normal.
Wash closed his eyes briefly, daring to ask -- "Tucker? I have a question."
"Hmm."
"If you don't like being touched…" He paused. No reaction yet. "Why did you sleep next to Caboose the other night?"
Silence. Fuck.
"You were awake?" Tucker's voice was bewildered.
"I…yeah."
"Well, that…was different."
Wash frowned slightly. "I don't see how."
"Oh, okay," Tucker said, his tone sharper. "It was different because he needed me, Wash. When Caboose has nightmares, cuddling like that is the only way to calm him down. That's the only way for him to be sure that someone's really there for him."
Wash hesitated. "Oh. I didn't know…"
"Obviously," Tucker said. Wash could almost hear him roll his eyes.
"So then…" Wash paused again. Nothing. "Why was it okay, earlier? When you where...uh, talking."
"Again, different," Tucker said, exasperated. "I was fucking screaming. We were kind of preoccupied, don't you think? It wasn't gonna go anywhere."
Wash waited for an explanation.
"What do you mean by that?" he asked carefully.
"I mean…" Tucker was confused too. "Uh…" He sat up, staring at the end of his bed. "I think…I don't like touching or kissing or whatever because…it leads to other things. It's okay when it's…platonic?" Is that the right word? "But when it's…with someone I'm in a relationship with, then it's…scary." He looked up at Wash without moving his head. "I'm afraid it'll go further than I want."
Wash sat up too, staring at Tucker. "So…you don't trust me?" His voice was full of pain. "You know I wouldn't want to go any further. Don't you trust me?" he pleaded.
"It's not like that, come on," Tucker argued. "You know that. I trust you. It's just…I guess it's just complicated…" He wasn't sure anymore. Wash was right, why couldn't he trust him?...
"Look…if you aren't going to believe what I say, what I promise you, then I don't know what else to do," Wash said coldly. "I'll let you think it over." He stood up and grabbed his blanket. "See you in the morning."
Tucker was helpless as he stared after Wash. The freelancer stopped in the doorway, his back to Tucker.
"I'd only had one other person like me before," he said quietly. "And he's dead now." He turned his head slightly over his shoulder. "I thought for a moment there that you and I were the same, too. Now I'm not so sure."
Before Tucker could protest again, Wash was gone.