In Good Company - SGU, Young/Rush, pre-slash
Title: In Good Company
Pairing: Young/Rush, pre-slash
Fandom: Stargate Universe
Rating: PG
Notes:: Slightly AU, in that this takes place before the episode 'Justice'. For cerebel, Yuletide exchange.
The air was heavy every time he breathed in like inhaling a lungful of ash. Colonel Young stood below an endless gray sky, as if the whole place had been burned and the smoke was still clinging, protecting the atmosphere around the planet. They brought breather kits with them, just in case anyone should feel short of breath or light-headed.
“We have eight hours, people.” The rag-tag group of scientists and military behind him were looking around with slightly less bewildered faces than the first time they’d stepped on an unfamiliar planet.
They were there because Destiny had dropped out of hyperspace right in the planet’s orbit, and without manual control of the ship, there had been nothing for them to do but sit and wait. Then the stargate had activated, and it became obvious Destiny had stopped for a reason. There was a gate on the giant piece of rock.
When Young asked why on Earth they should go, Rush had looked at him, unguarded and unsure, but the silent plea was heard just the same: Don’t fight me on this. We need to go.
Now, Young wasn’t entirely sure that was such a good decision. He radioed back to the ship and informed TJ everyone had safely arrived in one piece. Rush walked up beside him, the previously deployed scouting kino in hand, standing shoulder to shoulder, while he fought the urge to step out of Rush’s space.
“After you,” Rush said, stashing the kino in his equipment pack, and slung the pack over his shoulder. Young started at a careful pace favoring his bad leg on the loose, rocky terrain, even though the pain was mostly in his mind, a slight sense of inevitable foreboding creeping along every step. Off-world missions never ceased to be eerie or exciting, no matter what context and no matter how many times he stepped foot on new ground.
Not a quarter of a mile in, Young spotted a break in the monotonous beige of canyon-colored rocks. Ahead another half mile in the distance, a metallic, domed structure sat amidst the scraggly vista, smooth where every surface around it was not.
“Colonel,” Rush said after he’d seen it too. Young looked over at him and nodded, and was not the least bit surprised when Rush seemed more animated than Young had seen him act in a while. His jaw tightened in determination.
“Let’s go.” Young glanced back at the rest of the party. Greer was in the back, and Eli was busy checking readings on his device, but so far hadn’t made a peep, which meant things were going as well as one could hope, with no life signs but their own.
“Do you think we can make it there and back in time, Colonel?” Taylor asked as the young Marine walked up beside him, gun ready, eyes scanning the horizon.
“Plenty of time,” Young grunted and took a wider step around a jagged crack in the terrain. They were heading down an angle now, pebbles coming loose more frequently, sand being kicked up by their footsteps and billowing down in small clumps.
“Watch your step,” Rush said, unnecessarily, falling behind Young as the path narrowed, and everyone slowed down as they picked their way down the slope.
* * *
It struck Young how aware he was of Rush’s presence, how he seemed to know, or wanted to know, where the man was at all times. On occasion, aboard the ship, Eli had given him odd looks when he requested updates on surveillance regarding Rush, as if it had been naïve of him to suspect Rush would slip up in any way when he already knew the Colonel had eyes watching nearly 24/7.
Maybe Young was becoming a little obsessive about security. The tense, insincere dialogue he occasionally exchanged with Rush, when talking to the man was like pulling teeth, was adding more stress to an already taxing situation.
It wasn’t like he had that many reasons to trust Rush. In fact, whenever trust was put to the test, he had more reasons to trust Eli. Young didn’t think Rush regarded him any differently. It was a matter of mutual guardedness, and sometimes, it paid to be prudent.
They made good time and arrived at the dome structure with little trouble. There was nothing remarkable around it, no signs of recent life and when Young tried the sensor next to the giant door, it beeped brightly and the door swooshed open with a cloud of dust. He stumbled back in surprise.
Rush gave him a brief stunned look before he moved to walk forward, just like that, and Young had to suppress the urge to grab him by the collar. Instead, he reached out and stopped him with a hand to his chest.
“Easy,” Young admonished, gesturing Taylor and Greer to move in first. Caught up in the moment, busy checking for flash-lit movement among the shadows, Young forgot to move his palm from Rush’s chest.
When Taylor gave the all clear, Young snapped back to the physical, aware of his body, his hand on Rush, barely grazing the slightly damp shirt but able to feel his body heat anyway, alive. The closest he’d come to touching anybody for a long time.
They moved on quickly, after that, everyone equal parts eager and wary of what was inside. Someone - Greer, possibly - flipped a switch somewhere, and the lights came on with a brief struggle and a low whine that rose in volume, before quickly snapping back into a dull buzz.
Of course, with their usual luck, the inside looked more like a botany lab than anything else. Plant types of which he had never seen before, and definitely nothing that could survive the harsh environment outside. What looked like an advanced science experiment, complete with dusty beakers and old, congealed sludge inside, sat in the middle of the room, yellowed tubes and withered, brown stems and leaves strewn across the table surface.
“Maybe they were trying to grow them outside?” Eli ventured. “There’s been no animal life, no insects, no life outside at all. The only thing that kept us alive was the weird dust protecting the atmosphere.”
“I’d like to take some plant samples back,” Rush murmured, and began pulling out small containers from his pack. It wasn’t long before Young had made his way around the room, careful not to touch anything. Rush was sealing the last container and standing up when Young turned back to him.
“You have all you need?”
Rush nodded, and then they were on their way back, the door sliding firmly shut behind as they exited the structure. Young glanced back once, and only when they were in sight of the gate did he let out a relieved breath, grateful for the uneventful mission.
* * *
At 0800 the next day Young awoke suddenly and not because he wanted to. Someone was knocking quietly but insistently at his door, and he discovered his legs were still sore from so much walking - or hiking - the day before when he hoisted himself to his feet.
He waved the door open, and almost took a fumbling step back. It was far too early for any kind of conversation, especially with this man, and especially if he seemed as agitated as Young had ever seen him.
“Rush? What is it?”
“I thought you should know,” his voice was rough, like he was trying to keep his emotions in check. “The entire ship is going under quarantine.”
Young blinked, confused. “How is that - what happened?”
“It was one of the plants.” Rush’s sharp eyes flicked up to Young’s face, then away again. “When exposed to the atmosphere onboard, I don’t know why, but - it thrived.”
Young had been around Rush long enough to be able to pick through his reticence and deduce the important bits.
“Airborne contaminant from the plants?”
“Yes.”
Rush shifted on his feet and glanced briefly over his shoulder. It was obvious he wasn’t acting like his usual self, and that should have been enough for Young to refuse the man entry to his quarters, but watching him squirm in the hallway wasn’t much better.
Young stepped aside. Rush nodded in thanks and came in, walking immediately to the small seating area and sitting down, shoulders hunched, arms on his knees and his hands clasped, white-knuckled.
“Shouldn’t you be in your quarters?”
“Yes, but it’s the plant. The seeds.”
When Young sat down next to him, Rush’s head snapped up, his gaze sliding sideways. “Look, I just - I couldn’t be alone. Felt like - like I wanted to pull my skin apart.”
“So the seeds - they’re what’s responsible for making you feel this way?”
“It’s in all of our systems by now,” Rush shook his head. “It’s useless to try and stop it. They’re microscopic.”
“Like bacteria.”
“Yes.” He paused and took a deep breath. Young was wondering why he didn’t feel or look like the other man did, barely keeping it under control, nearly vibrating with the effort.
“It seems to affect everyone differently. Erratic behavior, emotional instability, freed inhibitions.”
Ah, question answered.
“So it’s dangerous then.”
“Not yet. People have still managed to exert some control over it, but.” Rush sighed sharply. His hands looked like they were trying to tie themselves into knots. “Who knows what the effects are from prolonged exposure.”
“You’re saying there’s no way to get rid of it from the air?”
For a handful of seconds Rush didn’t answer. Young watched strong fingers squeezing together, the tight line of his rigid shoulders as Rush took a shuddering breath.
“No. We have to wait it out.”
Young processed the answer. Then his radio crackled and TJ’s worried voice burst through. “Colonel Young, come in. There’s been an emergency.”
Rush leaned over and grabbed the handset, held it out to Young with shaky fingers. “This is Young. Rush is here, he’s already filled me in on what’s happening.”
“Sir, he shouldn’t be there. I ordered an immediate quarantine but I’m in the med bay and just managed to calm everyone down. They won’t stay in their quarters.”
“Any injuries?” Or psychotic breaks? He wanted to ask, but didn’t.
“No. I gave them a mild sedative that seems to be working.”
“What about you?”
“Been a little busy, I think keeping occupied helps. I’m not feeling the effects as much as everyone else.”
“Good, let’s keep it that way.” Rush stood up then and paced to the far side of the room. The man couldn’t keep still. Young watched, and wasn’t sure if Rush was making him nervous, or if the growing knot of anxiety in his stomach was from the effects of the seeds.
“Look, I have to deal with Rush right now. Keep things under control over there. He says we have to wait it out. Do you have a team of Marines with you?”
“Yes, but they’re worse off than I am.”
“Keep administering those sedatives. Try to keep everyone under control.”
Hopefully, it would be enough.
* * *
Young didn’t know what to do. Rush was still pacing thirty minutes later. TJ hadn’t contacted him again, which meant conditions probably hadn’t improved but were holding at manageable. Young himself was feeling too hot inside his skin, getting more restless the longer Rush paced in silence.
“Maybe you should go take some sedatives.” He knew how much Rush would hate the idea, but he couldn’t sit and watch him cover the same five feet again.
Rush shook his head and seemed to ignore him.
“Then sit down!”
It must have come out louder than expected, because Rush jumped and stopped, turning startled eyes to look at him. He walked back over and sat heavily down beside Young, jostling his shoulder, apparently no longer caring about personal space.
There were times when Young wondered if there was any hope left for Rush, besides the Destiny. If anyone could ever get through to him besides an ancient ship. If given the choice, would Rush stay onboard even after everyone had left, found a way and returned to Earth?
Maybe Rush came to him because he was the only one who would understand the burden of having lives depend on his every decision. Or maybe he just needed the guy in charge to sympathize with him, so that when the time came, Rush would be allowed to stay.
He looked terrible, dark circles hanging under his eyes, the tight line of his lips holding back words no one, especially not Young, should hear. It was Rush at his most vulnerable, and it felt wrong when that thought gave Young some satisfaction to temper his anxiety.
Young shifted to face him. “You need to relax. You’re making me nervous.” He spoke very clearly, slowly, and with a gentle push to his shoulder, sent Rush falling back into the cushions. Not the most comfortable, but no matter the circumstances, he was not about to offer the man his bed.
“Just talk to me for a minute. Relax. How long do you think until it’s out of our systems?”
Rush closed his eyes. “A day or two, at least. The ship’s scrubbers should be able to get it out of the air once it’s all cycled through the vents. By that time, we should be back to normal.”
His hands were still clenched together, as if he needed to hold onto something to keep him together.
“What are you feeling right now?”
Rush laughed, short and sharp. His eyes were still closed. “Everything? Better question is why aren’t you feeling it?”
Young considered the question and had no clue how to answer. “I don’t know. You said it affects everyone differently.”
“You feel nothing out of the ordinary?”
Young shrugged. “Just nervous. Worried.” He paused, glanced around the room once. “Maybe restless, too.”
“Like a caged animal.” Rush supplied. Young guessed it was not dissimilar to how Rush was feeling.
He took a second to think better of the idea, and if he were of a clearer mind at that moment, if there weren't tiny seeds in his bloodstream, messing with his brain chemistry, then maybe he wouldn't have done what he did next.
“Colonel?” Rush opened his eyes to look at him. Young had placed both hands on his. He gently tugged the fingers loose, one by one, felt the rough callus on the finger where Rush held his pens and pencils to write, endless equations, new and unanswered questions. He turned Rush’s palms over and noticed his hands had stopped shaking.
“Why didn’t you stay in your quarters?” Young asked and didn’t know if he had meant to speak, because it wasn’t the right question, he’d already asked that.
Rush regarded him silently, with the same pained look in his eyes as they were trying to decide if they should step through the gate or not.
But Young couldn’t let it go. There was a reason Rush wasn’t speaking, a reason his hands steadied under Young’s careful touch.
“Rush.” He put as much as he could into the name, frustration and hope warring in the back of his throat. A chance to get through to him.
“Despite our differences,” Rush finally said with a voice like he’d inhaled too much smoke from one of his cigarettes. “I trust everyone else here less than I trust you.” He curled his fingers around Young’s palm, threading their fingers together.
He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. “Just let me sit here.”
A roundabout way of saying I trust you and I don’t trust myself to be alone. Young thought he could understand the feeling.
And he didn’t have the heart to let the man down when he needed the comfort.
Young sat and watched his breathing even out, Rush’s hand rough and warm and calming in his own. He couldn’t remember ever falling asleep on the couch there, but when he woke up, it was to TJ’s smiling face, relieved, with Rush’s warmth still beside him.
end.
Pairing: Young/Rush, pre-slash
Fandom: Stargate Universe
Rating: PG
Notes:: Slightly AU, in that this takes place before the episode 'Justice'. For cerebel, Yuletide exchange.
The air was heavy every time he breathed in like inhaling a lungful of ash. Colonel Young stood below an endless gray sky, as if the whole place had been burned and the smoke was still clinging, protecting the atmosphere around the planet. They brought breather kits with them, just in case anyone should feel short of breath or light-headed.
“We have eight hours, people.” The rag-tag group of scientists and military behind him were looking around with slightly less bewildered faces than the first time they’d stepped on an unfamiliar planet.
They were there because Destiny had dropped out of hyperspace right in the planet’s orbit, and without manual control of the ship, there had been nothing for them to do but sit and wait. Then the stargate had activated, and it became obvious Destiny had stopped for a reason. There was a gate on the giant piece of rock.
When Young asked why on Earth they should go, Rush had looked at him, unguarded and unsure, but the silent plea was heard just the same: Don’t fight me on this. We need to go.
Now, Young wasn’t entirely sure that was such a good decision. He radioed back to the ship and informed TJ everyone had safely arrived in one piece. Rush walked up beside him, the previously deployed scouting kino in hand, standing shoulder to shoulder, while he fought the urge to step out of Rush’s space.
“After you,” Rush said, stashing the kino in his equipment pack, and slung the pack over his shoulder. Young started at a careful pace favoring his bad leg on the loose, rocky terrain, even though the pain was mostly in his mind, a slight sense of inevitable foreboding creeping along every step. Off-world missions never ceased to be eerie or exciting, no matter what context and no matter how many times he stepped foot on new ground.
Not a quarter of a mile in, Young spotted a break in the monotonous beige of canyon-colored rocks. Ahead another half mile in the distance, a metallic, domed structure sat amidst the scraggly vista, smooth where every surface around it was not.
“Colonel,” Rush said after he’d seen it too. Young looked over at him and nodded, and was not the least bit surprised when Rush seemed more animated than Young had seen him act in a while. His jaw tightened in determination.
“Let’s go.” Young glanced back at the rest of the party. Greer was in the back, and Eli was busy checking readings on his device, but so far hadn’t made a peep, which meant things were going as well as one could hope, with no life signs but their own.
“Do you think we can make it there and back in time, Colonel?” Taylor asked as the young Marine walked up beside him, gun ready, eyes scanning the horizon.
“Plenty of time,” Young grunted and took a wider step around a jagged crack in the terrain. They were heading down an angle now, pebbles coming loose more frequently, sand being kicked up by their footsteps and billowing down in small clumps.
“Watch your step,” Rush said, unnecessarily, falling behind Young as the path narrowed, and everyone slowed down as they picked their way down the slope.
* * *
It struck Young how aware he was of Rush’s presence, how he seemed to know, or wanted to know, where the man was at all times. On occasion, aboard the ship, Eli had given him odd looks when he requested updates on surveillance regarding Rush, as if it had been naïve of him to suspect Rush would slip up in any way when he already knew the Colonel had eyes watching nearly 24/7.
Maybe Young was becoming a little obsessive about security. The tense, insincere dialogue he occasionally exchanged with Rush, when talking to the man was like pulling teeth, was adding more stress to an already taxing situation.
It wasn’t like he had that many reasons to trust Rush. In fact, whenever trust was put to the test, he had more reasons to trust Eli. Young didn’t think Rush regarded him any differently. It was a matter of mutual guardedness, and sometimes, it paid to be prudent.
They made good time and arrived at the dome structure with little trouble. There was nothing remarkable around it, no signs of recent life and when Young tried the sensor next to the giant door, it beeped brightly and the door swooshed open with a cloud of dust. He stumbled back in surprise.
Rush gave him a brief stunned look before he moved to walk forward, just like that, and Young had to suppress the urge to grab him by the collar. Instead, he reached out and stopped him with a hand to his chest.
“Easy,” Young admonished, gesturing Taylor and Greer to move in first. Caught up in the moment, busy checking for flash-lit movement among the shadows, Young forgot to move his palm from Rush’s chest.
When Taylor gave the all clear, Young snapped back to the physical, aware of his body, his hand on Rush, barely grazing the slightly damp shirt but able to feel his body heat anyway, alive. The closest he’d come to touching anybody for a long time.
They moved on quickly, after that, everyone equal parts eager and wary of what was inside. Someone - Greer, possibly - flipped a switch somewhere, and the lights came on with a brief struggle and a low whine that rose in volume, before quickly snapping back into a dull buzz.
Of course, with their usual luck, the inside looked more like a botany lab than anything else. Plant types of which he had never seen before, and definitely nothing that could survive the harsh environment outside. What looked like an advanced science experiment, complete with dusty beakers and old, congealed sludge inside, sat in the middle of the room, yellowed tubes and withered, brown stems and leaves strewn across the table surface.
“Maybe they were trying to grow them outside?” Eli ventured. “There’s been no animal life, no insects, no life outside at all. The only thing that kept us alive was the weird dust protecting the atmosphere.”
“I’d like to take some plant samples back,” Rush murmured, and began pulling out small containers from his pack. It wasn’t long before Young had made his way around the room, careful not to touch anything. Rush was sealing the last container and standing up when Young turned back to him.
“You have all you need?”
Rush nodded, and then they were on their way back, the door sliding firmly shut behind as they exited the structure. Young glanced back once, and only when they were in sight of the gate did he let out a relieved breath, grateful for the uneventful mission.
* * *
At 0800 the next day Young awoke suddenly and not because he wanted to. Someone was knocking quietly but insistently at his door, and he discovered his legs were still sore from so much walking - or hiking - the day before when he hoisted himself to his feet.
He waved the door open, and almost took a fumbling step back. It was far too early for any kind of conversation, especially with this man, and especially if he seemed as agitated as Young had ever seen him.
“Rush? What is it?”
“I thought you should know,” his voice was rough, like he was trying to keep his emotions in check. “The entire ship is going under quarantine.”
Young blinked, confused. “How is that - what happened?”
“It was one of the plants.” Rush’s sharp eyes flicked up to Young’s face, then away again. “When exposed to the atmosphere onboard, I don’t know why, but - it thrived.”
Young had been around Rush long enough to be able to pick through his reticence and deduce the important bits.
“Airborne contaminant from the plants?”
“Yes.”
Rush shifted on his feet and glanced briefly over his shoulder. It was obvious he wasn’t acting like his usual self, and that should have been enough for Young to refuse the man entry to his quarters, but watching him squirm in the hallway wasn’t much better.
Young stepped aside. Rush nodded in thanks and came in, walking immediately to the small seating area and sitting down, shoulders hunched, arms on his knees and his hands clasped, white-knuckled.
“Shouldn’t you be in your quarters?”
“Yes, but it’s the plant. The seeds.”
When Young sat down next to him, Rush’s head snapped up, his gaze sliding sideways. “Look, I just - I couldn’t be alone. Felt like - like I wanted to pull my skin apart.”
“So the seeds - they’re what’s responsible for making you feel this way?”
“It’s in all of our systems by now,” Rush shook his head. “It’s useless to try and stop it. They’re microscopic.”
“Like bacteria.”
“Yes.” He paused and took a deep breath. Young was wondering why he didn’t feel or look like the other man did, barely keeping it under control, nearly vibrating with the effort.
“It seems to affect everyone differently. Erratic behavior, emotional instability, freed inhibitions.”
Ah, question answered.
“So it’s dangerous then.”
“Not yet. People have still managed to exert some control over it, but.” Rush sighed sharply. His hands looked like they were trying to tie themselves into knots. “Who knows what the effects are from prolonged exposure.”
“You’re saying there’s no way to get rid of it from the air?”
For a handful of seconds Rush didn’t answer. Young watched strong fingers squeezing together, the tight line of his rigid shoulders as Rush took a shuddering breath.
“No. We have to wait it out.”
Young processed the answer. Then his radio crackled and TJ’s worried voice burst through. “Colonel Young, come in. There’s been an emergency.”
Rush leaned over and grabbed the handset, held it out to Young with shaky fingers. “This is Young. Rush is here, he’s already filled me in on what’s happening.”
“Sir, he shouldn’t be there. I ordered an immediate quarantine but I’m in the med bay and just managed to calm everyone down. They won’t stay in their quarters.”
“Any injuries?” Or psychotic breaks? He wanted to ask, but didn’t.
“No. I gave them a mild sedative that seems to be working.”
“What about you?”
“Been a little busy, I think keeping occupied helps. I’m not feeling the effects as much as everyone else.”
“Good, let’s keep it that way.” Rush stood up then and paced to the far side of the room. The man couldn’t keep still. Young watched, and wasn’t sure if Rush was making him nervous, or if the growing knot of anxiety in his stomach was from the effects of the seeds.
“Look, I have to deal with Rush right now. Keep things under control over there. He says we have to wait it out. Do you have a team of Marines with you?”
“Yes, but they’re worse off than I am.”
“Keep administering those sedatives. Try to keep everyone under control.”
Hopefully, it would be enough.
* * *
Young didn’t know what to do. Rush was still pacing thirty minutes later. TJ hadn’t contacted him again, which meant conditions probably hadn’t improved but were holding at manageable. Young himself was feeling too hot inside his skin, getting more restless the longer Rush paced in silence.
“Maybe you should go take some sedatives.” He knew how much Rush would hate the idea, but he couldn’t sit and watch him cover the same five feet again.
Rush shook his head and seemed to ignore him.
“Then sit down!”
It must have come out louder than expected, because Rush jumped and stopped, turning startled eyes to look at him. He walked back over and sat heavily down beside Young, jostling his shoulder, apparently no longer caring about personal space.
There were times when Young wondered if there was any hope left for Rush, besides the Destiny. If anyone could ever get through to him besides an ancient ship. If given the choice, would Rush stay onboard even after everyone had left, found a way and returned to Earth?
Maybe Rush came to him because he was the only one who would understand the burden of having lives depend on his every decision. Or maybe he just needed the guy in charge to sympathize with him, so that when the time came, Rush would be allowed to stay.
He looked terrible, dark circles hanging under his eyes, the tight line of his lips holding back words no one, especially not Young, should hear. It was Rush at his most vulnerable, and it felt wrong when that thought gave Young some satisfaction to temper his anxiety.
Young shifted to face him. “You need to relax. You’re making me nervous.” He spoke very clearly, slowly, and with a gentle push to his shoulder, sent Rush falling back into the cushions. Not the most comfortable, but no matter the circumstances, he was not about to offer the man his bed.
“Just talk to me for a minute. Relax. How long do you think until it’s out of our systems?”
Rush closed his eyes. “A day or two, at least. The ship’s scrubbers should be able to get it out of the air once it’s all cycled through the vents. By that time, we should be back to normal.”
His hands were still clenched together, as if he needed to hold onto something to keep him together.
“What are you feeling right now?”
Rush laughed, short and sharp. His eyes were still closed. “Everything? Better question is why aren’t you feeling it?”
Young considered the question and had no clue how to answer. “I don’t know. You said it affects everyone differently.”
“You feel nothing out of the ordinary?”
Young shrugged. “Just nervous. Worried.” He paused, glanced around the room once. “Maybe restless, too.”
“Like a caged animal.” Rush supplied. Young guessed it was not dissimilar to how Rush was feeling.
He took a second to think better of the idea, and if he were of a clearer mind at that moment, if there weren't tiny seeds in his bloodstream, messing with his brain chemistry, then maybe he wouldn't have done what he did next.
“Colonel?” Rush opened his eyes to look at him. Young had placed both hands on his. He gently tugged the fingers loose, one by one, felt the rough callus on the finger where Rush held his pens and pencils to write, endless equations, new and unanswered questions. He turned Rush’s palms over and noticed his hands had stopped shaking.
“Why didn’t you stay in your quarters?” Young asked and didn’t know if he had meant to speak, because it wasn’t the right question, he’d already asked that.
Rush regarded him silently, with the same pained look in his eyes as they were trying to decide if they should step through the gate or not.
But Young couldn’t let it go. There was a reason Rush wasn’t speaking, a reason his hands steadied under Young’s careful touch.
“Rush.” He put as much as he could into the name, frustration and hope warring in the back of his throat. A chance to get through to him.
“Despite our differences,” Rush finally said with a voice like he’d inhaled too much smoke from one of his cigarettes. “I trust everyone else here less than I trust you.” He curled his fingers around Young’s palm, threading their fingers together.
He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. “Just let me sit here.”
A roundabout way of saying I trust you and I don’t trust myself to be alone. Young thought he could understand the feeling.
And he didn’t have the heart to let the man down when he needed the comfort.
Young sat and watched his breathing even out, Rush’s hand rough and warm and calming in his own. He couldn’t remember ever falling asleep on the couch there, but when he woke up, it was to TJ’s smiling face, relieved, with Rush’s warmth still beside him.
end.