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Wash has promised himself time and time again to not let anyone else close. They’ll always hurt you, leave you or die. Or hurt you and leave you. Or hurt you and die. Or all three at the same time because feeling one of those pains isn’t enough.
It never ends well, even if there’s a brief period of what can be called happiness. Wash has held on to that resolve for years.
Wash supposes that even if you’re vigilant, love – or whatever it is that he feels whenever he so much as glances at Tucker – sneaks up on you or worms it’s way in whether you want it to or not.
It’s kinda invasive like that.
One day he’s having a normal conversation without any problems at all, the next he’s noticing all kinds of stupid, distracting things that he hadn’t even thought about before. Has Tucker’s face always looked this beautiful whenever he’s talking about Junior? Have his eyes always lit up with joy and has his expression always been so proud? Has Tucker always looked this peaceful in his sleep? Wash finds that he feels a little guilty disturbing Tucker’s slumber and wakes him a little more gently now.
They’re outside, training like always. It’s a warm day and, at Tucker’s insistence, they’re training in their regular clothes. Something about feeling the sun on his back and the wind in his hair. Wash just likes being able to see just what his body is capable of without the extra weight of the armour.
He focuses on the wall of rock in the distance, trying to ignore Tucker to the side of him. He doesn’t want to pay attention to the way Tucker’s brow furrows moments before he starts to complain about exercise, he doesn’t want to notice that Tucker has excellent posture whilst doing his squats, or that his back looks incredible as he does push-ups.
Wash tries to stop it, tries to avoid being distracted by all these little things he’s started to notice. Wash doesn’t want to get hurt again.
Like always, Tucker slowly counts out ‘sixty-nine, drawing out the ‘i’, before collapsing to the ground in a heap. Like always, Wash sighs, says Tucker’s name and holds out his hand. Like always, Tucker takes hold and grips it tightly whilst Wash pulls him to his feet.
Has the hand that he’s been taking hold of to haul Tucker up from the ground almost daily always been this soft? Wash holds Tucker’s hand for a fraction longer than necessary. When he notices, he drops Tucker’s hand like a hotcake and wonders just how that thought has weaselled into his mind.
He doesn’t miss the look of confusion on Tucker’s face at the sudden movement, but, perhaps most importantly, Wash notices that Tucker notices and the expression that flits across his face is realisation.
*****
Tucker has been watching Wash for a long time, content to just leave whatever the hell it is between them be. He’s always sort of tried to get Wash to notice that there is something there, but he has long since decided that Wash is dense as hell and never pays enough attention. That is until he’d started to notice small things: tiny changes in Wash’s actions and words that were easy to miss if you weren’t paying attention.
At first, Tucker thinks he was going crazy: Washington doesn’t not show any interest in anyone, at all, ever. If he did, he definitely wouldn’t be showing any interest in the one guy who was a constant disappointment. However, Lavernius Tucker isn’t called a Love Doctor for nothing and the subtle gentleness and fondness in Wash’s words and actions that have always been there have developed an interesting new meaning.
He likes the way Wash holds on to his hand for just a fraction longer than necessary. Tucker can easily get himself up from the ground, but why do that when Wash is more than happy to help him up?
He notices how Wash drops his hand quickly, how he glances away once their eyes meet. Wash clears his throat before continuing. The conversation almost happening automatically because they’ve had it so many times.
“You–you can’t keep stopping on sixty-nine.”
Today, Tucker decides to take the conversation in a different direction.
“Why’d you let go so fast?”
They’re still standing close and Tucker smiles. Wash notices that there’s something different about it. Tucker’s smile is flirtatious and cheeky, the kind that he reserves for when he’s hitting on someone.
“I…didn’t think you’d notice.”
“Dude, I can always tell when someone wants me.” He pulls Wash down as he stands on the tips of his toes to kiss Wash. The kiss is brief, but it surely gives Wash enough of a hint. “Though with you it did take me a while.”
The kiss takes Wash by surprise and it takes him a moment to reply.
“Where did that come fr–?”
Tucker brings a finger to Wash’s lips to silence him, and he marvels at how soft his skin is.
“I’ve only been asking you to hold my hand since, like, forever, Wash.”
Wash gives Tucker a smile as he takes his hand away and leans down to kiss him, properly this time, without being taken by surprise.
Funny, that. Wash hadn’t noticed.