Chapter Text
“YOU! YOU NEED TO STOP YOUR LITTLE SOLDIERS FROM PUSHING BUTTONS THAT THEY DON’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT!”
Rush shouted at Young from across the hallway. He rounded the corner at a fast clip, pushing through the stunned crowd to get in Young’s face. Those walking by hurried to pass them and hesitated a safe distance away, keeping watch on the situation. Having a bit more of an understanding of how Rush works than the average Destiny inhabitant, Young could tell this was an extraordinary level of aggression from him. His standard confrontations usually start snappy and then devolve to shouting. To be shouted at from around a corner, no build up whatsoever, is cause for slight alarm. Brody rounded the corner shortly after Rush, a look of concern stamped on his face. Young made eye contact with Brody and gave him a nod, assuring him that he would deal with Rush.
Inches away from throwing the first punch, Rush leaned into Young’s face and curled his lip upwards, baring crooked teeth. He shoved Young, trying to send him over the edge as well. The snarl behind Rushe’s was absolutely vicious, threatening Young to counter. Young stood stock still, jaw clenched, as he pulled one of his arms from behind his back and immediately grabbed Rush’s bicep in a tight grip. He squeezed it even tighter, almost to bruising, and yanked Rush out of the hall and into the nearest storeroom.
He flung Rush further into the room to put some space between them. Getting a better look at the man, he could tell that Rush was fraying at the edges, he was nearing the breaking point and he was seeking out an argument to give himself an excuse to get there. His sunken eyes and stringy hair were suddenly more glaring, the stress of the last week finally washing over him. Young knows that Rush doesn’t care what he is arguing for, he just wants to pick a fight. He knew the moment Rush went off script and started begging to be punched. Or at least, as close as Rush could get to begging for anything from Young.
The look in Rush’s eyes was more akin to desperation than anger. He wasn’t actually mad at Young, he just figured it would be easier to get the desired end if he was. So, he pretends. He shouts and jumps back at Young, fists swinging.
“YOU’RE A COWARD! YOU WERE RIGHT WHEN YOU SAID YOU SHOULDAE KILLED ME! ONLY YOU DIDN’T ‘CAUSE YOU,'' Rush stopped his tirade to point a menacing finger in Young’s face, “ARE A COWARDLY BASTARD!”
Young catches his fist and swiftly turns Rush around, twisting his arm up to meet shoulder blades.
“Rush! Shut up!”
“Getae fuck-”
Young kicked the back of Rush’s knees, forcing him to keel over and stop yelling. Rush squirmed in Young’s grip, trying in vain to free his arms. As soon as he got some air back in his lungs, he started the barrage of insults anew, increasingly creative and indecipherable under the thicker accent. Young was now actively sitting on Rush’s back to keep him from getting up and throwing more punches. He dug his knees into the sides of Rush’s rib cage and leaned forward to speak directly in his ear over the shouting.
“You menace, I need you to relax. I’m not going to hit you to shut you up. If you would be still for a damn minute-” Rush stilled instantly, stopping Young in his tracks.
“And what would you do? Finally hit me?” The smile Rush flashed as he turned his head was sickening, “would you give me what I wan’?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll havetae make it so,” Before Young could anticipate it, Rush jerked his head back and clocked Young’s jaw.
“Fuck, Rush!”
Rush clawed his way out of Young’s grip, putting just enough space between them to have options. But not far enough that Young couldn’t reach him if he really tried. The only sounds in the room were heaving breaths from Rush and the thumping of Young’s boots moving back into standing position. Young watched him from a short distance and took in his posture, he didn’t even have his hands up in mock defense. Rush had completely surrendered to his frustration, grasping for anything to mimic his abruptly abandoned coping mechanisms. Unfortunately for Young, starting fights with him was the next best thing. With one last huff, Young closed the gap between them and felt his stomach drop as Rush began to make that sickening smile at him again.
“Good.” Rush dropped his arms entirely and leaned into the incoming punch.
Young punched him swiftly in the jaw. Rush’s head jerked to the side, and he dropped to the floor instantly. Young groaned and reached for his radio.
“TJ, this is Young, come in.”
“TJ here, sir.”
“Good, I need you to meet me in the storage room outside the mess.”
“Is everything alright?”
Young looked down at Rush, unconscious at his feet.
“Yeah, just need a hand with something.”
“On my way.”
Young gave Rush a dissatisfied nudge with his left boot and dragged a hand over his face. TJ arrived shortly after her last message on the radio, moving as she was talking. As the door unlocked and slid open, she turned from Young’s tired expression to Rush in a heap on the floor.
“What happened?”
“He’s fine, I’ll explain later. Can you help me drag him to his quarters? I would really appreciate it if the crew sees this as a medical thing, and not just me dragging him around the ship.”
It was TJ’s turn to groan as she nodded and came into the room. Taking hold of both of Rush’s arms, they walked him down the halls with halfhearted grimaces at anyone they passed by. They came up on Rush’s door and Young shouldered his dead weight to give TJ the opportunity to push the release button. They looked inside cautiously; the room was relatively empty. Rush had come through the Stargate with very little and he was certainly not the nesting type. Save for a scavenged spare shirt, the only evidence that Rush actually lived here was the unmade bed and the chalk covering the walls. The far walls had most of the mathematics scrawled onto it, but the section of wall on the right-hand side of the bed was covered in more quick and personal notes, things not to forget to do the next morning. They dragged Rush into the room and dropped him onto the bed, letting him fall onto the bunched sheets. TJ sighed and turned to Young,
“Now will you tell me what happened? There’s no way that he just passed out again, is there?”
Young looked up at her with a tired stare before continuing, “No. He was having a bit of a break and demanded that I hit him,” he threw his hands up as TJ gave him a concerned look, “I didn’t at first, but he was belligerent. He actually headbutted me before I finally got him in the jaw.”
“Everett, you still ca-”
“He was begging me to. Granted, in his own stubborn kind of way, but he wasn’t going to stop until I did. TJ, I had no choice. It was either me or he bullied someone else into doing it, and I’m not going to let him do that to the crew.” Young looked away, back towards Rush on the bed. TJ was clearly still unhappy with the course of events, but she begrudgingly agreed that this might have been the best option in the situation.
“Just make sure he’s alright when he wakes up, please. Like, talk to him, because it’s clear he sought you out and I don’t want this to become a trend. Especially if I have to help you drag him across the ship every time. Maybe you should take the rest of the day off and figure out what his problem is, I’ll look after the crew with Scott. Doctor's orders.” She gave him a resigned nudge and an even more halfhearted smile.
“Will do.”
With one last look over to Rush, TJ slipped out the door and closed it behind her. Young rubbed his eyes and moved over to the chair by the porthole window. He collapsed into it and rubbed at his chin, finally feeling the blossoming bruise from Rush’s headbutt.
“Bastard.”