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Thump.
Tucker shouts a string of curses as he falls to the floor. Caboose pushed him off the bed in his sleep.
He sighs and slowly stands up to see Caboose had taken up the whole bed.
“Caboose, move, dammit!” He hisses, trying to push the bigger man away with no luck. Caboose murmurs happily and hugs his pillow even harder.
He curses again and kicks the bed before stomping off. He saved this goddamn planet from space pirates and he still had to share a bed with Caboose. The saddest thing was that he was getting used to nights like this.
The first night Caboose kicked him off the bed he spent an hour trying to move Caboose but the dude probably weighed a sack of bricks and Tucker only a tenth of that. He finally gave up and went outside to find Wash sitting on the grass and humming along to the music playing in his helmet.
“Getting pretty rough in there with Caboose, huh?”
“Shut up.”
But Wash graciously accepted Tucker’s company and they sat there, chatting until Tucker would fall asleep on the grass. Wash carried him back to Tucker’s bedroom, gently pushing Caboose to the side with ease, and tucked him into bed.
And this happened almost every other day, and Wash would carry him back every single time. Sometimes Tucker would wake up as Wash was carrying him back to his room but he would just immediately fall back to sleep as Wash puts a finger to his lips and tells him to rest.
They never really talked about those moments. It was routine for them; it just happened and they never really questioned it.
Sure enough, Wash's sitting outside on the grass again and listening to songs on speakers, he always used speakers now just in case Tucker would join him. Tucker approaches him and falls down on his back with a loud groan. He stretches out his arms and legs on the grass and stares up at the sky. Wash raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say a word.
And they spend a few minutes of silence just listening to the song. Tucker doesn’t recognize the song, some kind of indie electronic bullshit that was popular a hundred years ago.
Then the song finally ends and the next one comes up.
Ooga-chaka ooga-ooga, Ooga-chaka ooga-ooga.
"Seriously?" Tucker comments with a smirk after recognizing the song. "I'm pretty sure this song is older than my great grandparents."
"Eh, Maine used to listen to old stuff like this..." He shrugs, face flushing a bit with embarrassment. "And I guess it kinda stuck. It's dumb, I know."
"It sure is."
Wash rolls his eyes. "Whatever, dude. At least I'm not the one who sings Nicki Minaj in the showers."
"Fuck you, respect the queen, man." Tucker sticks his tongue out at the other man. "Your anaconda's just got poor taste."
And then Wash throws his head up and starts laughing.
He's not doing that stupid small smirk accompanied with a chuckle or that annoying sarcastic "haha" laugh.
He's smiling and he's genuinely laughing so hard just because of his stupid joke, the kind of joke that would usually receive a generous eye roll from Wash but nope. Tucker's heart stops right there, slowly taking in how the pale moonlight shone on his face and seemed to cast shadows that accentuated the features of his face.
I can't stop this feeling deep inside of me.
He never really noticed it before but Wash's smile was really fucking nice. He notices his whole face was actually really... nice. Tucker also doesn't notice he's staring with his mouth slightly open but Wash definitely does notice.
Girl, you just don’t realize what you do to me.
"Hey, are you alright?"
Then suddenly Wash's looking straight at him, his eyes wide and eyebrows creased with concern, and he starts to really worry when his heartbeat quickens. Tucker's mind wanders to all those times he ever actually went face-to-face with the freelancer, most of them during their nighttime meetings. Those serious moments when he'd look towards Wash and the other would already be looking straight at him. He realizes only now how often they'd actually done that, though he never really had thought about it. Thinking about what each glance actually meant now makes Tucker feel short of breath.
He wants to tell him that everything's peachy and, no, he wasn't going through a goddamn existential crisis at the moment I'm fine thank you very much but he finds himself choking on nothing. He sits up and starts coughing, wildly gasping for air because holy fuck his whole body was hell-bent on not cooperating with his rational thought at all.
Wash is startled but is quick to lean forward and he takes a hold of Tucker's left arm with one hand and starts pounding Tucker's back with the other. Tucker eventually stops coughing but his face still showed his obvious discomfort.
When you hold me in your arms so tight.
"Tucker, tucker, what's going on?"
You let me know, everything’s alright.
There's thick layers of armor and suit between his hand and Tucker's arm and he’s definitely been closer to Wash before but for some reason it was still too goddamn close. The area where Wash’s hand connected with his arm starts to heat up rapidly, and so did his face as the freelancer leaned in close. Close enough that he could smell his stupid girly-smelling shampoo (How did he even get that stuff in Chorus?) and see every freckle on his face. God, he had them all over and Tucker never knew he was attracted to freckles before because he hella was now. It takes every ounce of his strength not to grab his face with his hands and kiss him right there.
He diverts all the strength into pushing him away and telling him to fuck off. Wash does lean back to give him some space but he still has his hand on Tucker's arm.
His heads starts to hurt as it attempts processes memory after memory, most of them about Wash and those nights they would spend together, and a myriad of emotions start to swell in his chest all because of fucking Agent Washington and this stupid fucking song. Tucker feels confused, scared, nervous and above all that...
"Dude, I think..." He blurts out exasperatedly before he finds his throat run dry again
"You think what?"
I’m-
Tucker takes in another deep breath before he tries again.
"I think I'm in love with you."
Hooked on a feeling.