#hey. not letting him out of our sight. strip and shower together morons.

[wheels-of-despair]

Friendship, romance, sex, you didn’t care. If he was willing to just exist in your life, that’s all you fucking wanted.

Yes x 100000

Clean (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Summary: After the battle in the Upside Down, you and Eddie try and get clean.

Tags: Angst, hurt/comfort, smut, happy ending, no use of y/n, reader is not described, unprotected PiV sex, light choking, pet name, barely beta'd

7.7k words

You weren’t completely sure how you ended up back in the right side up, in your home with Eddie. After the fight with Vecna, everything was a blur. You remembered sirens, and an earthquake, and you and Eddie being arrested, refusing to be separated from each other but being forced apart anyway. You remember being bailed out somehow, Eddie’s name being cleared and waiting outside the police station for hours until he stumbled out and looked at you. 

Both of you stared at each other for a long time outside the station, battered and bruised and covered in cuts and bite marks, but alive. It was a fucking miracle considering Eddie had thrown himself into a suicide mission. He’d run, distracted the bats and had you not managed to grab him and tackle him into another trailer he’d be dead, you were sure of it. 

Looking at him outside of the station, you were about ready to kill him yourself. Your eyes burned with tears and if looks could kill, he’d be dust. It took everything not to slug him right then and there for daring to think that he could throw his life away like that, for a town that hated him. 

How could you? Your look said. 

I’m sorry. Came the silent reply as he dared to take a step closer. When you didn’t step back, his arms wrapped around you tightly. 

The two of you held each other for a long moment, and each passing second your anger dissolved as the emotions you’d been ignoring and repressing over the past few days started to surface. You couldn’t do this here. You couldn’t allow yourself to process this outside of the police station, not when the two of you were covered in sweat and blood. 

His hand gripped yours tightly, as if you were the last lifeline he had in this world. There was so much more that needed to be done. He had to tell his uncle he was alive, you had to check on Max and the others, Eddie probably needed some sort of lawyer. You had to see Steve and Robin and see what happened with Vecna while the two of you were in holding. 

But it was late, nearly midnight and neither of you had a walkie talkie anymore and the weight of what the two of you had been through was starting to catch up. 

Your apartment was small, cozy even. Eddie walked in with you, having followed you blindly back home. You couldn’t let him go, even when you dropped his hand to get you both some water from the kitchen you were constantly looking over your shoulder to make sure that he was still there, that he was still real. 

The whole time, he was looking at you, too. 

The two of you sat on your bed, hands clasped together tightly as you both tried to figure out what to say or do. You’d won, Vecna was dead and the gates were closed. You were alive, Eddie was alive and his name was cleared. If this was Eddie’s campaign, you two would be heroes, celebrating and drinking and would be standing tall and proud. 

Instead, the two of you were holding hands on your bed. Staring down at the floor as you both tried to sort through the horrors you’d seen in the past four days. Your eyes closed, and you saw everything; the news of Eddie being suspected of murder, the bats attacking, the upside down, Eddie’s back as he ran away-

A tear slid down your cheek and you gripped his hand harder, and in response he squeezed back. You took a deep, slow breath-

“We... stink.” You weren’t sure you meant to say that out loud but it broke the silence between the two of you. Eddie was silent for a few seconds before letting out a breath that almost counted for a laugh.

“Yeah... yeah we probably do. I haven’t showered in... shit. I don’t want to think about it.” He said. 

“We should shower.” You said, not meaning anything by it. 

“We should.” 

The two of you were quiet for another few minutes, neither of you moving. Having Eddie out of your site, even though you knew he’d be in a room that he wouldn’t be able to disappear in, made your stomach twist unpleasantly. 

But he needed a shower, he fucking deserved to hog all the hot water he wanted after what he’d been through. So you stood up, still holding his hand. “I’ll... show you how the shower works.” 

He followed you wordlessly to the bathroom, and you rummaged through your cabinet and pulled out a spare toothbrush for him. Eddie grabbed it and the two of you made your way over to the sink, brushing your teeth as the first step to feeling like a human again. 

“The left one is the hot water.” you said, turning the shower on for him. “And this button makes it a shower and not a bath.” 

He was staring at you, and you had the feeling that what you were saying was the least important thing going through his mind right now. You didn’t blame him. 

“There’s clean towels right there.” you pointed to the towels on the hooks by the sink. 

The water ran, and it was already starting to get a bit foggy in the bathroom. You turned to look at Eddie, who was still staring at you. His mouth partially opened as if he wanted to say something but for once lacking the words. 

“Take all the time you need.” you said, and started towards the door. His hand grabbed yours, stopping you from moving forward. 

“I...” Eddie said, his large doe eyes were looking at yours with a million different emotions. He didn’t want you to go. You didn’t want to leave. 

There had been an underlying tension between the two of you through this whole week. From the finale of his campaign with Hellfire to you saving his life there was something there. You would have always easily admitted that you found Eddie attractive but had never let yourself move past that. 

The moment that he’d disappeared, you felt like your world had blacked out, only returning to  your senses when he’d had you pinned against the wall of Reefer Rick’s boathouse with a broken beer bottle against your throat. You’ll never forget the fear in his eyes, like a wild animal cornered as the glass poked at your neck as his gaze darted between you and the others. 

What a terrible time to realize that you might be in love with Eddie Munson. 

You had been swallowing your emotions all week, focusing on the task at hand. Dustin brought Eddie junk food, you made sure there was something of substance in the grocery run. At least something that he could heat up so he wasn’t surviving on pure sugar. When the others were busy trying to piece together Vecna, you’d kept your own walkie close, updating him every step of the way. 

You don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t shown up to Reefer Ricks as the basketball team seared for Eddie. You’d given him just enough time to escape without suspicion, and as thanks you had been witness to the gruesome murder of Patrick in the water of Rick’s boathouse. 

The memory was pushed down as far as you could, and you were brought back to reality by Eddie taking a hesitant step closer. You had never realized how badly you needed him in your life, the freak who’d given you a place to feel safe in a town where a toe outside of normalcy was seen as a crime. 

You needed him, and by the look in his eyes, he needed you, too. 

There wasn’t anything to say, words wouldn’t do anything in a time where actions meant everything. So you squeezed his hand and pulled it away, reaching up to his shoulders to start pushing off both his battle jacket and leather jacket. The heavy garments fell to the floor and he pushed them away with his foot to a corner. You reached up and pulled off his bandana, freeing his hair and tossing it as well. 

Eddie kneeled down and unlaced his shoes, as well as yours. Your shoes and socks were both discarded as he stood back up. You took his hand again, removing each of his rings carefully followed by his bracelet and watch and setting them on the counter. There was blood in the mouth of the pig ring that made your stomach turn and you looked back at Eddie instead. 

His Hellfire shirt was stained with blood and sweat and god knows what else, and he discarded it quickly. Small cuts and bruises littered his body, and you looked over each visible wound. Distress filled you, and you swallowed hard, trying not to think about the bats attacking and biting him just hours before. You’d been so strong up until now for him, and you’d be strong again until you could finally be alone. 

You weren’t expecting him to cup your jaw and tilt your head up to look at him. His brown eyes looked straight into your own and he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours. Your eyes slid close, one of his hands moving to the back of your neck. You could feel the warmth of his skin, the slightly scratchy callouses of his fingertips, the way his hand would squeeze slightly on reflex reminding you that he was here and safe. 

Safe. 

That thought alone nearly broke you as it passed through your mind. Eddie was safe, and he wasn’t dead and he wasn’t going to jail for murder. He was alive and cleared and free. 

You let out a choked sob and tried again to push down everything you were feeling but his hand squeezed tighter and his other hand wrapped around your middle and pulled you close. You let out a shuddering sob against his chest, holding his arm for dear life as you tried to calm yourself. 

It’s... really hard to cry with the scent of blood and sweat and boy filling your nose and shocking your senses. 

You met his eyes as you pulled away, but his hands remained firm on you, keeping you grounded. Eddie’s eyes were red and bloodshot, both of you were exhausted. 

Just hold it together. You said to yourself as you pulled your shirt off over your head, and fought with the button on your jeans. Eddie reached down to help you, his thumbs brushing over the bruise on your hand you’d earned from punching a demobat. You stepped out of your pants and reached for his, dropping the bullet belt on the ground which echoed with an alarming clang. 

“Jesus.” Eddie muttered. 

“Why did Erica even grab that?” you asked, as you both stared at it. “Those bullets don’t even work with Nancy’s gun.” 

It was a question without an answer, one of thousands from this week. 

You went back to his pants, pulling on the belt and.. Well that didn’t work. There was a handcuff around his belt that you tugged on. You’d noticed it before a few times, and had always wanted to question this particular fashion choice. But you never did, not wanting him to know that you had ever glanced at his crotch, no matter how innocent the circumstances. 

“Here, it’s uh... a little fiddly.” Eddie said, moving your hands away as he jiggled the cuff and it opened with a metallic click. You reached out again, removing the offending item and hesitated for a moment as your thumb and forefinger held onto his zipper. 

You looked up at him. Are you sure? He nodded and you pulled down his pants, leaving you both in your underwear.

A gentle push on your shoulder had you turning around as he unclasped your bra, letting it join the rest of the discarded clothes before you slid your fingers into your underwear and pulled them down before you lost the nerve. 

You could hear Eddie let out a shuddering breath and when you turned around there was a red flush underneath the layer of dirt on his face. But he didn’t look down at you, not yet, only focusing on your eyes as he also pulled down his boxers.

Neither of you made a move, only staring up at one another for a long time as the water ran. You took in every detail of his face, as if this was the first and last time you’d seen him. His long hair was a greasy mess, his fringe plastered to his forehead and covered in sweat. Dirt and blood speckled his face and there was a cut on his cheek. 

How were his eyes so impossibly round and expressive? You had no idea how he could wear every emotion on his face and yet still not have a clue what he was thinking. You two stood naked in the bathroom, something that would have been laughable to imagine just a few weeks ago, but now it was the least crazy thing that had happened to you in even twelve hours. 

Eddie made the first move, carefully placing his hand on your lower back and pushing you towards the shower. You stepped in, Eddie right behind you as the hot water hit your skin. You let out a hiss as it hit a cut on your shoulder, but other than that it felt... fucking amazing. 

You reached out of the shower to the sink to grab the antibacterial soap that Eddie had left at your place months before after getting the black widow on his chest done. Your mind flashed to him leaning against the counter with his shirt off as you had carefully cleaned the fresh ink. He’d been making a fuss about how it burned and you had scolded him for going to a shady scratcher’s basement and that he was lucky that he didn’t get an infection. 

Had that only been a few months ago? 

Now his tattoo was healed, but there were new wounds to tend to, new permanent fixtures on his body that you wish were just from an illegal tattoo gun. You grabbed a clean washcloth and finally looked over his body. 

It wasn’t like it was your first time seeing a man naked, and you’d seen Eddie shirtless plenty of times before. There was no denying this was different though, and your eyes wandered down between his legs for just a moment, curiosity getting the better of you in the moment because it was better than letting your mind stay trapped in the Upside Down. 

He wasn’t hard. You didn’t blame him, you doubted you could get aroused in this state. You were both tired and gross. You pulled your focus away from his crotch and back to the washcloth, lathering it up and began to wash his shoulders and neck first. 

Eddie’s hands made their way to your hips, unable to stop himself from touching you. Touching you meant that you both were real. 

He let out a small noise in the back of his throat as you began to gently wash away the gime on his neck and shoulders. Dirt and sweat flowed down each of your bodies from the water stream, and you focused as best you could on cleaning each of the cuts on his body, even if he let out grunts of discomfort. 

Your hands started washing lower, running the cloth against his chest and the black widow you’d cleaned a dozen times for him before. Eddie hissed as the cloth brushed over his hard nipples and you couldn’t tell if it was because it felt good or didn’t. You moved lower, washing his stomach and his hands held your hips tighter. It was becoming a game of chicken to see how far down you’d go. 

You were staring at his dick as your hands hovered at his hip bones. It’s not like you could help it, well, that was a lie, you probably could. But it had twitched just slightly, and your mind had raced with a thousand dirty thoughts. 

Not the time. You scolded yourself as you tried to figure out how to proceed. 

Sensing your hesitation, Eddie reached behind you for another washcloth and turned you around. 

“It.. might be better if I do this part.” he said in your ear and your skin erupted in goosebumps. “Between the lake water and the sweat and everything, yeah. Just, give me a second to do that part myself.”

Jesus Christ, he was talking about washing his ass and your body had still reacted. What the fuck was wrong with you? Well other than falling in love with your friend and Dungeon Master, nearly losing him to monsters, nearly losing him again to the justice system-

Something soft rubbed your back and the tension you’d been holding suddenly evaporated. While you were distracted, Eddie had finished his own business and had grabbed your loofah. He was washing your back in slow circles, getting the dirt off of you as well.

You let out a quiet noise and his hand froze for just a moment before resuming. Maybe in another timeline you would have been embarrassed about the noise you made, but not this time. Not when you were touch starved from him, not when he was naked and touching you, not when you two felt impossibly close and yet still so fucking far apart. It was a balancing act, a dance that neither of you knew the music to. Each movement was careful, hesitant, as if one wrong move might scare the other away. 

There will be no more retreating from Eddie, the Banished. Did that extend to you? With the way his fingers slid down your spine you were assuming so. One hand was firmly on your shoulder to keep you in place (as if you were ever going to move away) while the other ran your loofah over your sides. 

He turned you around, endlessly deep brown eyes meeting yours while his hand holding the loofa twitched just slightly. It was his turn to look down at your body fully, eyes raking down over your chest, your hips, and your legs. You saw his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed, looking back up at your eyes. 

When you gave him a nod, Eddie reached out again, working the loofah over your neck and shoulders. You tilted your head back, letting him get as much grime off you as possible before his hand moved lower, running over your breasts carefully. Eddie’s eyes darted between your chest and your face for any sign that this was too much, that he’d gone too far. But you only leaned closed to him, resting your hands on his forearms as he washed you. His hands drifted lower, not lingering too much on your breasts when getting clean was more important than the hormones that were starting to stir in both of you. 

Just like you had, his hands stopped at your hips, just above your mound. You turned him around the same way he had for you, deciding that you could also wash your own ass for the time being. 

You closed your eyes as you washed yourself, imagining a world where taking a shower with Eddie wasn’t the result of a week of trauma. Maybe he’d joke about how he’d make your tits squeaky clean and you’d respond with a joke about him dropping the soap. Maybe in another life the two of you would be blasting music and he’d be rambling about the latest song he was learning on guitar while you two swapped off who was under the hot water. 

Your bodies were clean now, Eddie taking the free moment to wash off his legs and feet while you did the same. You pulled him back around and reached up to his face with a warmed washcloth, and his hands went back to your hips. Once you were satisfied with that, you grabbed the shampoo and conditioner. 

“Sit down.” you said quietly. 

The tub was comfortable enough for one person to lay in and stretch out but it was more cramped with two. Eddie sat down and you sat behind him, working the shampoo through his hair slowly, your fingers digging into his scalp. Eddie tilted his head back and let out a moan as you massaged and scratched at his head. 

There was a small part of you that said that you shouldn’t be having a reaction to this, that you two had just gone through something terrible and this wasn’t the time to unpack those feelings. 

You told that part of your brain to shove it. 

You peered over Eddie’s shoulder as you worked the lather through his hair, and took in a deep shuddering breath as your gaze was met with his cock standing at full attention. The warmth inside of you was growing as well, made hotter by his constant groans and murmurs of enjoyment. 

You rinsed his hair, and started working the conditioner through his ends. 

“Let that sit for a bit.” you instructed and he made a noise of understanding. You quickly worked on cleaning your own hair, and as the last of the sweat, blood, and tears slid down the drain you were now faced with it being just the two of you, naked, raw, and alive. 

Eddie turned around and leaned against the back of the tub and he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in as well. He pressed your back against his chest, his head resting on your shoulder. You leaned back into him, letting him hold you as the warm water washed over you both. 

Your hands reached down to his, and his fingers immediately laced with yours. Around you there was only the thick steamy air and the warmth and safety of the shower. Your fingers rubbed against his, unused to the bare skin without the heavy metal rings he wore. You wondered briefly if they were silver or pewter or some other metal. 

Something soft on your shoulder brought you back to reality, A shiver ran down your back as Eddie’s lips placed small kisses along your clean, wet skin. You squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back. 

The kisses stopped after a moment, and he pulled you closer until you were completely flushed against him. His cock was pressing into your back, and you felt him shift his hips to try and find a way to have you close without bothering you about his physical reaction. 

You shifted in his arms, turning around to face him. The porcelain dug into your knees, but you ignored it to look at Eddie. His eyes were wide and everything stood still. He reached for you again, placing his hand on your jaw, his thumb resting on your cheek. In return you held onto his shoulders, one hand on the side of his neck. 

It didn’t matter who moved first. It didn’t matter if his hand pulled you in or if you had leaned after you looked at his lips. All that mattered is that Eddie’s grip on you tightened and his mouth was on yours and you were pressing up against him and his hands were moving around you and-

You slipped, your knee sliding against the soaked porcelain and your body was pressed fully against his. Eddie’s hard cock was pressed against your stomach, and he jumped at the sudden accidental movement. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, sitting up a bit to check on you. 

No, you weren’t okay. And you didn’t think you’d be okay until he kissed you again. So instead of answering you kissed him again, deeper than before. He didn’t hesitate in responding to the kiss, his hands were sliding around you again, rubbing your back as your fingers tangled in his hair. 

The two of you stayed like that for a long time, meeting each other’s lips over and over again as the hot water fell on you. You’d occasionally shift and feel his cock rub against your stomach and he’d moan into your mouth in response. You liked that, and found every reason to squirm and rub against him as the two of you kissed. 

Eddie’s tongue pressed into your mouth, as easily as if the two of you had kissed a thousand times before. You moaned as he did, the taste of your toothpaste still lingering in his mouth melded with the taste of him. The moan only encouraged him to keep going, exploring your mouth and licking against a spot behind your front teeth that made you shudder. 

The water was getting cooler and it took everything inside of you to finally pull away. Eddie looked up at you with a hint of confusion on his face as to why you pulled back. 

“Did I-” he started and you shook your head. 

“Water’s getting cold. We should get out.” you said. 

He nodded and the two of you untangled from each other and helped each other stand up. You finished rinsing the last of the conditioner from Eddie’s hair before turning off the water and stepping out, grabbing you each a towel. He took it from your hand and wrapped it around your shoulders, using it as an excuse to touch you and pull you into another kiss. 

Your arms wrapped around his neck and he pushed you up against the wall, needing the closeness as much as you did. Each press of his lips was slightly different each time, as if he was trying to decide the best way to kiss you, or maybe to just have the chance to kiss you every way he could. Making up for lost time? Making up for the uncertain future? It was hard to tell. 

“I’m here.” You don’t know why you said it, but those two words slipped out of your mouth in the two seconds that Eddie had pulled away to breathe. 

He was panting, and staring intently at you, his look of surprise mirrored your own thoughts. Then his mouth was on you again, kissing you rougher, holding you tighter, his hands were grabbing at you in a near bruising grip. Eddie’s cock was rubbing against your hip now, and he groaned feeling your soft skin against him. You could feel your own wetness start to pool between your legs as you kissed back, trying to keep up with him. 

“I’m here, too.” His voice echoed back. 

Your hips rocked up against him, and up bit his lower lip, sucking on it hard. He groaned again, and grabbed at your breast, squeezing it before rubbing his thumb against your nipple. You squirmed at the touch, and all you wanted was to be closer, closer, closer. 

When Eddie pulled back, it was your turn to look confused. You were dazed from the kiss, breathless with your heart pounding in your chest. 

“Eds...?” 

“Bedroom.” He pulled himself away from you like ripping a bandaid off. You followed his lips, kissing him again and he shuddered, stumbling back towards the door and reaching blindly for the doorknob. 

With some fumbling, you both managed to stumble into your room, lips locked together. It was cooler outside of the bathroom, and you could feel goosebumps raised along his arms as you both fell back into your bed. 

You wasted no time straddling him, pushing him down by his shoulders and giving him quick rough kisses. 

“Don’t you-” you kissed him “ever” you bit his lower lip “run like that” another bruising kiss “again.”. 

“I won’t” he replied, running his hand to the back of your neck and squeezing it. “I won’t. I won’t run.” 

Before you could capture his lips again, he pulled you down by your neck and latched his mouth against your throat. Eddie wasted no time with soft kisses, immediately sucking hard on the skin and pulling the blood to the surface until a deep bruise bloomed on your neck. You cursed, and ground your hips down on his cock, feeling the length drag against your clit. 

Eddie hissed and kissed the spot lightly where he’d been sucking. His hands gripped your hips, moving his own in rhythm with yours in a desperate attempt to get friction on his leaking cock. One hand slid down to grab your thigh, squeezing the back of it in a way that made your hips shudder and sparks of pleasure shoot right to your core. 

“Fuck, Eddie.” you whispered. 

Hearing his name had him grabbing you and rolling you below him, kissing your neck more. His lips trailed up to right below your ear, breathing in deeply before moving his mouth down to your chest. 

Eddie latched onto one of your nipples and sucked hard, making you gasp and arch your back up. His hand slid down, lower and lower until it was between your legs, sliding a finger through your slit with a trembling hand. The touch to your sensitive folds made you let out a small giggle at the feeling and your hips jerked again before settling back down. 

“Fuck, you’re soaked.” Eddie said, talking to himself more than he was talking to you. He played with your entrance for a moment as he kissed and sucked along your breasts, sliding two fingers through your folds and stroking your clit with careful circles. 

You wanted to beg for more, roll your hips and tell him to keep going, but you couldn’t. If this was any other scenario, you would have. But when his head tilted back to look at you, all words died down in your mouth. This wasn’t something that you two could rush, not now, not after everything. This was more than just sex, more than a desperate quickie after the heat of battle. This was something you didn’t have a name for yet, but you two would figure out in time. 

Eddie leaned over you more, resting one arm by your head. His wet hair ticked your shoulders, and looking up at him, you thought about how a few hours earlier, you were on top of him like this as well, shielding him from monsters. He leaned down and kissed you again as he slid a finger into your entrance. 

Your hands gripped his shoulders, gasping into his mouth. He pumped his fingers in and out slowly, never letting your lips disconnect. Eddie was fingering you, Eddie who’d all but bullied you into joining Hellfire when you were the new kid. The same Eddie who you’d bickered and squabbled with regularly because you two loved to get on each other's nerves. The same Eddie who you’d seen cry when no one else was looking over the death of Chrissy Cunningham-

Another finger slid in carefully and this time he did pull back, looking into your eyes for any sign of discomfort. Instead he found your face warmed and your lips parted in pleasure. You let out a small moan as he moved his fingers again, your nails digging into his shoulder. 

A quiet cry escaped your lips as he curled his fingers inside you, moving them back and forth until you gave him the signal that he had found the right spot. His name escaped your lips in a way he never dreamed that he’d hear. Eddie’s forehead pressed against yours again, taking in every reaction as his fingers explored your inner walls. 

His thumb brushed over your clit, stroking it in shaky and clumsy circles. As unpracticed as it was, it felt good. It felt good because it was him, and because you needed him, and when the fuck was the last time you had even had a chance to get off with everything going on?

“Eddie,” you panted as you moved your hands to his jaw. You kissed him again, and he kissed you back. His fingers sped up, pressing more into that sweet spot that was turning your brain off, removing any thoughts of the Upside Down, or of the shared trauma you now held. Right now, there was only you and Eddie and a mind-numbing pleasure that was building up inside you.

“It’s okay.” he whispered, his hand shaking a little. “Tell me what you need, please.” Eddie looked at you like getting you off was the most important thing he could do right now. You’d only seen this look in his eyes once as he’d cut the sheet rope that connected the two worlds-

“Tell me you’re here.” you begged, the words spilling out without thought. “Fuck, Eddie- just tell me you’re here. That you aren’t going- oh... oh God, please-”

“I’m here.” His voice sounded desperate, looking down at you. “I’m here, I swear. I’m not going anywhere again I- I’m so fucking sorry. I’m here, I’m here, Sweetheart.” 

It was that simple nickname that had you tumbling over the edge. That pet name that had always been reserved only for his guitar. His lips crashed onto yours as you reached your peak, swallowing your moans as your pussy clamped down around his fingers. Your body tensed up hard, and you tangled your fingers into his hair pulling at the roots. Eddie moaned at the feeling, his fingers faltering for a moment before slowing down and then finally pulling out. 

Immediately you felt empty, the orgasm not enough to satiate the need to have him as close as possible. You could still feel your pussy contracting as you came down from your orgasm, and you realized he was still talking. 

“‘M here.” Eddie whispered against your temple as he placed gentle pecks to your skin. “I’m here. I won’t leave again.” 

“I need you, Eds.” you said, looking up at him. “Fuck, I’ve needed you for so long.”

You hoped that he understood what you were saying. This was more than needing him inside you, this was about everything you two had been through together over the past few years. Every Hellfire Club meeting, every Tuesday at the Hideout, every shared joint between the two of you, every shitty study session that never went anywhere because you two would get too distracted and end up talking to each other about everything and nothing. 

You needed it, all of it, all of him. Eddie had made an indent on your life that you never wanted straightened out. You could not, and would not, conceive of a world without Eddie Munson in it. His death would have destroyed you in every possible way. 

Friendship, romance, sex, you didn’t care. If he was willing to just exist in your life, that’s all you fucking wanted. 

You didn’t even notice that you were crying again, until Eddie was wiping away your tears with his clean hand. He had a panicked look on his face as if worried that he’d done something wrong. 

“Shit, I’m sorry. Did we take this too far?” he asked, grabbing a tissue from your bedside table and wiping his own hand off before offering one to you. You took it and shook your head, wiping your eyes and trying to take in a deep breath. 

“No, not that’s not it.” you said. “I just... I was so scared that I was going to lose you, Eddie. I’m still scared that when everything is done you’re going to disappear on me again.”

Eddie looked down at you, and you could almost see the wheels turning in his head. “I thought I was doing the right thing, buying them more time.” he said quietly. “I thought if I could keep them distracted for just a few more minutes, everything would work out. If I had climbed back up, I thought- I was convinced the bats would either break in and attack you and Dustin or they’d go after the others.”

“You’re stupid.” you sniffed. 

“I know.” he agreed. 

“A total buttface jerk.” you added. 

“Yeah, you’re right.” Eddie spread your legs more, putting himself into position. His cock was sliding through your folds now. 

“Y-you’re a freak and my fucking hero.” you gasped out as he pushed himself inside you carefully. Eddies cock stretched you pleasantly and easily. 

“I’m getting mixed signals here, Sweetheart.” he mumbled, kissing along your jaw. Your arms wrapped around his neck tightly, and you pushed your own face against his neck, sucking your own mark against the front of his throat. You didn't care if anyone else saw, you wanted to see proof of this night on him. 

You wanted proof on him every night for the rest of your life. 

“I'm never running away again.” he groaned in your ear as his hips started moving. Eddie held you tighter, nearly suffocating you as he did. How many times had he hugged you like this before, with you laughing and pushing him away, only for him to squeeze you harder telling you that your Strength stat sucked? 

“I'll find you.” You whispered in his ear as he grabbed your thigh, lifting it to wrap around his hips. “I'll find you every time, I fucking promise.”

He moaned loudly, his hips pushing harder into yours. Eddie was as deep inside you as he could possibly be, and each drag of his cock inside you made every nerve light up in your body. 

“Why did you come after me?” Eddie's voice was a near growl. His voice was strained, as if asking that question would snap the connection between the two of you. His lips never left your skin, kissing every inch that he could reach on your neck and face. 

“I couldn't let you- ohh oh God... I couldn't let you go. Couldn't let you disappear again” your body shuddered under him as his angle shifted slightly, just enough that it was rubbing up against that spot again that made it hard to think. 

“You could have died too.” Eddie's voice rattled around your head, frustration dripping from his lips as he sank his teeth into your shoulder. You cried out, dragging your nails down his spine in return, leaving raised marks down his back. 

He hissed and smashed his lips to your again, biting at your lower lip and sucking hard. Eddie looked at you, frustration now in his eyes as he looked down at you. 

It seemed like you weren't the only one processing your emotions through sex. 

“You could have died too.” He repeated. One hand went to the back of your neck, his thumb pressing right below your ear. You met his eyes, suddenly feeling small under him. 

Eddie had only ever looked at you like this once before. You two had a blow up fight the night that Chrissy had been murdered. You'd been so fucking mad at him for not moving Hellfire, having missed that whole conversation as you had a different lunch period. 

You hadn't learned about it until Erica Sinclair had walked in with Mike and Dustin. You'd swallowed the fight until after the campaign, when everyone was celebrating and Eddie was sneaking towards the back of the gym. 

It hadn't been pretty. You two had yelled at each other, called each other every name in the book. You were furious that he'd abandoned a party member and wouldn't budge. 

Eddie had hated that you were the only one to really stand up to him, to call him out for refusing to budge this one time. His brown eyes had turned black as you said things that didn't even fucking matter anymore. 

You saw him leave pissed with Chrissy Cunningham. You wondered if anyone else saw you two fighting that night which would have made him look worse when the cheerleader showed up dead in his trailer. 

Another moan passed your lips and your eyes closed as he started thrusting faster inside you. His hand on your neck tightening and loosening rhythmically, the blood running to your head and cutting off over and over again. 

“I can't lose you either.” He panted, kissing you again in a way that you were sure was going to screw you up forever. “You think I wanted to watch you die, too?” He demanded. 

“Eddie, I-” you didn't know what to say, all you could do was lay there as he mercilessly pushed into you, watching as the anger turned to anguish as he leaned over you. 

“Look at me,” he said, his voice low and firm. The same subtle husky voice he used when he ran his game, the same voice he'd conditioned you to listen to over the past year. 

You nearly came again right there.  

Eddie’s warm brown eyes bore into yours and you didn't look away, even as his pace hit that perfect stride that had your toes curl and made your eyes want to roll back.  

“If I can't run away, you can throw yourself into danger.” He said. “I'm not losing you either.”

“Not gonna lose me-” you panted. “Fuck Eddie, I just-” your back arched as his lips sucked another bruise into your shoulder. “Don't put yourself in danger again and I won't have to.”

“We’re never doing that again.” he grunted into your shoulder. “No more monsters, no more fucking spellcasters, no bullshit alternate dimensions.” His hands were everywhere, as if he couldn’t decide where he wanted or needed to grab you. “Gonna get us as far away from this shithole town as possible.”

Us. 

That word echoed through your brain. Us. That meant there was something more here, a future. A future with Eddie that he wanted you to be a part of. 

You kissed him again, and any more words between you died down as it didn’t mean anything anymore. The Upside Down, the future, none of it. Eddie’s hand finally made its way down to your clit again and stroked it fast. You tangled your fingers into his hair and pulled at the roots, his hips were starting to falter with their thrusts. Each push making your brain grow hazy as the pleasure continued to build inside you. 

Eddie pulled away from the kiss, pressing his lips against your ear again instead. “I’m here.” he promised. “Fuck, right- I’m right here.”

“I’m here, too” you repeated, your own voice breathy and desperate. “Eddie, I-” 

“I love you.” 

Those three words from his lips, had you seeing white. The whole world stopped and your body tensed up. Your nails sank into his back, and if you had been in a more clear state of mind you would have noticed you’d accidentally drawn blood. You cried out, unsure if you had managed to say those words back at all until the orgasm had started to subside. You felt dizzy, lightheaded and you breathed out the air that you had been hoarding in  your lungs. 

Eddie was staring at you with wide doe eyes, lips parted slightly in surprise. His hips were rocking slower now, as if unsure if he should continue after having apparently shattered your mind.

“I... love you, too.” you managed to gasp out, meeting his gaze. That was enough for Eddie as he picked his pace back up, rougher than before. He pressed his lips against your neck, breathing you in completely, listening to your overstimulated cries of pleasure as he pushed faster into you. 

It didn’t take long before he was cumming too, his hips jerking and shaking as he finally slowed down his thrusts. His weight was fully on top of you now as he started to soften inside you. 

You don’t know how long the two of you stayed like that, with him laying on you and with you stroking his back and matching his breaths. Maybe the two of you dozed off a few times, trying to savor the moment of peace between the two of you. 

Eddie was the one to break the silence with a chuckle. 

“What’s so funny, Eddie?” you asked, your eyes still closed. 

“We’re gonna need another shower after that.” he replied, slowly getting up off you. It was cold without his warmth and you whined at the loss. 

“Sounds like a tomorrow problem.” you mumbled, looking up at him. His curly hair was frizzing badly in its half-dried state. But he still got up and went to the bathroom, you heard the sound of running water and the a toilet flushing before he came back with a towel to clean help clean you up. 

“Did you mean what you said?” you asked quietly, as he settled back into bed with you, the two of  you getting over the sheets. 

Eddie nodded, looking at your blankets before meeting your gaze. “Yeah, I did.”

“Good.” you said and gave him a reassuring smile. “Because I don’t want to fight anymore monsters either again.” 

“Wait that’s-” Eddie stopped and laughed, shaking his head. “You know what I meant.”

“I know.”

“Did you mean it?” He asked. 

“Yeah. I meant it.” you reassured him. 

“Say it again?” he asked, cupping your jaw again. “I want to know it wasn’t just my amazing dick making you say it.”

You laughed. It felt so fucking good to laugh with him again. Had there been any doubt about your feelings for him, that would have sealed it. 

“Eddie Munson, I love you.” you said, looking into his eyes. “And if you ever do something stupid like that again, I’m going to be the one to kill you personally.”

“I love you, too.” he said, and for the first time in a week, his eyes were clear. There was no haunted look in his eyes, no anger, no frustration. For this brief night before reality came back the two of you could just exist with each other. Neither of you knew what was going to happen after this evening, but you knew in your gut that the two of you were going to get through this together. 

----

Please comment and reblog <3

Alternative title: Use Your Tears As Lube

If you cried you have to legally tell me. I'm keeping count.

[illumynare]

Red vs Blue Fic: Lavernius Tucker and the Tattoo Conspiracy

Summary: The first rule of Blue Team is Be Cool and nobody is letting him be cool.

(Or: the AU where everyone except Tucker has glowing tattoos.)

Parings: None.

Warnings: Lots of swearing, mentions of torture, everyone gets naked except Tucker. (It’s surprisingly un-sexy.)

Notes: Also available on AO3!

RIP my dignity. We had a good run.

Huge, huge thanks to @a-taller-tale, best of wives and best of women beta readers. She really went above and beyond for this one.

Caboose starts it, or anyway, he's the first one Tucker finds out about. One day he gets peanut butter all over the inside of his armor, and Tucker doesn't call "not it" fast enough, so he has to hose him down. First Caboose throws a temper tantrum and doesn't want to take his armor off at all, and then he strips stark-ass naked—which is actually a good thing, considering how far the peanut butter had gotten.

And that's how Tucker sees the tattoo.

It's huge, covering the whole of Caboose's back, geometric designs interlocked with lines of a weird script that Tucker recognizes, after a moment, as Sangheili. The lines are a deep, cobalt blue with an opalescent sheen—crisper and more vivid than any tattoo Tucker's ever seen—and then Caboose shifts a little, turning his back out of the sunlight, and Tucker realizes the tattoo is actually glowing.

"Whoa, dude, what's that?"

"Oh, that is from my best friend," says Caboose.

"Church gave you a glowing tattoo written in Sangheili?" Tucker says. "Dude, I do not believe that. Also, if you call him your best friend again, I think he's gonna shoot you."

"No," says Caboose, "that is from my old best friend. When I was on a team that fought the aliens."

"Wait, you actually fought in the war?" asks Tucker, slightly envious. It's not like he wanted his head shot off by Covenant forces, but he'd thought that being in a few battles and getting some cool scars would help him pick up chicks. Instead he got pulled straight out of Basic and sent to the ass-end of nowhere without a single woman in sight.

"Yeah, we went to a planet that had some stuff, and we were supposed to do things with it, but then the ship crashed, which was definitely not my fault because I did not touch ANY of the buttons, and everybody died in the explosions."

"Wait," says Tucker, "then how—"

"Or they died in the lava. Or the quicksand. Or the psychokinetic carnivorous plants. Or the shooting from the aliens, who were also dying. Yeah, everyone was dead after that. But there was one alien left and we built a house together and went fishing and became best friends forever! So he gave me a tattoo instead of a bracelet. And then I went home."

Okay, clearly that story is 90% bullshit, but Tucker doesn't want to spend the next three hours asking Caboose increasingly simple questions to sort out what really happened.

'Whatever," he sighs, and hits Caboose with another shower from the hose. Caboose twists his head, happily trying to drink the water out of the air.

Tucker does tell Church about it later. Church is not interested.

"Oh my God, Tucker, I do not fucking care how Caboose got a dumbass tattoo on his back."

"I'm just saying, it's kind of—"

"Seriously, why do you care what Caboose has on his naked body?"

"Okay, don't make it weird."

(Much later, when Church is still an asshole but also Epsilon and made out of numbers, he’ll tell Tucker about hacking the extremely classified file that is Private Michael J. Caboose’s one and only real combat mission before getting shunted into the Simulation Trooper program, and Tucker will think, Well, damn.)

Everybody on Blue Team has a role: Caboose is the idiot. Church is the asshole. Tucker is the cool, good-looking one.

Which is why it's so unfair that Caboose gets the alien tattoo that glows in the dark and looks completely sick. Tucker's the one who could actually work it around the ladies . . . if there were any ladies in Blood Gulch besides Tex, who isn't a lady so much as a female velociraptor, and that's on one of her good days.

The point is, Tucker wants in on this game. When he agrees to go with Crunchbite on his stupid quest, half the reason is that he's hoping he'll get a glowing tattoo out of it.

Instead he gets knocked up, and that's—well, Doc does remember to give him anesthetic before starting the C-section, but there's no curtain or anything, and sometimes Tucker really wishes he could forget what it looked like.

Junior, though. He's weird and he smells, but the first time he leans against Tucker and lets out a quiet blargh, all Tucker can think is, My kid. Fucking worth it.

But he still doesn't have a badass glowing tattoo.

And then it turns out that everyone else in this fucking canyon does.

Okay, so Church never had any glowing tattoos on his actual body back when he was alive, which Tucker knows because he asked.

"I'm Jewish, you dumbass."

"Yeah, so?"

"Oh my God, you don't know anything, do you?"

"Hey, you didn't know I was black."

But now he’s a ghost and he can glow in the dark so it’s pretty much the same thing.

Then there's the time that the Reds attack, and when Church starts cursing because he still can't aim with the sniper rifle, Caboose shouts, "I can help you, Church!" and runs up onto the roof with a fucking grenade launcher.

That's loaded with paintballs, because of course it is.

"We are so screwed," Tucker sighs, gripping his rifle. He's the only member of Blue Team who's currently able to (a) hit anything (b) with actual ammo, and that means they're not 4v3, they're 4v1, and Tucker is still too pretty to die like this and disappoint all the ladies.

Except Caboose hits Simmons with a paintball.

And it's blue paint.

"Son of a Manchurian Candidate!" Sarge yells. "Those dirty Blues are trying to brainwash Simmons. The only way to save him is immediate amputation."

"WHAT? But I feel fine! Suck it, Blues! See?"

"The paint is on his torso," says Grif. "I don't think he can survive without his lungs. Wait, does he even have those anymore?"

"As much as I hate to admit that this moron has any reasonable point, it's clear that there's only one solution. We have to field-strip Simmons."

"But Sarge—" Simmons's voice is cut off as Sarge tackles him.

"Oh, boy," says Donut. "I have got the best theme song for this."

As Sarge rips off Simmons's armor, Donut starts singing "Take it Off" while performing a dance routine with a lot of hip-thrusts.

"Wait," says Church. "Did Caboose just . . . save our asses?"

"Shit, don't tell him that," Tucker mutters.

"Yes, well, I didn't want to mention it, but since you insist, I did save us all. Stupid Tucker."

"Heheh, yeah, Caboose is more useful than you today, Tucker."

"Seriously?" says Tucker. "I'm the fucking chosen one, dude. Caboose is just an idiot with blue paint."

"And the blue paint just saved our asses."

"He said it."

Below, Sarge has already gotten Simmons completely naked. It's the first time Tucker's even seen his face. He's a scrawny, ethnically ambiguous string bean with olive skin, black hair, and a lot of chrome.

And a tattoo.

A fucking bright red, glowing tattoo in the pattern of a circuitboard all over his back.

What the fuck.

Like, obviously the tattoo is part of whatever turned Simmons into a cyborg, and Tucker's never wanted to get any of his limbs or internal organs replaced, but it looks . . . cool, okay, it is fucking cool, and the Red Team nerd should not be allowed to look cooler than Tucker does. At all. In any way.

Shit, the tattoo's even pulsating, little glowing specks running down the lines of the circuit, and it's just. Not fucking fair.

"Saaaarge!" Simmons wails, hunching in on himself. "You know I'm shy!"

"Sorry, Simmons, but operational security comes first. Can't allow anyone to be compromised by the Blues."

Simmons responds with a wordless moan.

"I mean, I know it's weird to keep watching," says Church, "but he's suffering so much I can't look away."

Down below, Grif says, "Gosh, Sarge, I think I saw a little bit of paint on you too. Right . . . there." He points at a spot on Sarge's back, where Tucker can see there is definitely not a single drop of paint.

"Horseshoes and hand grenades! So that's their villainous plan!"

Even Tucker has never managed to get naked that fast. He'd be impressed, except he's too busy staring at the giant glowing Red Team snake tattooed on Sarge's back. How did the old fucker even get that tattoo? He probably did it himself with experimental ink that’s radioactive and making him impotent, but Tucker is still a bit jealous.

"Hey, Reds," Church yells. "Looks like half your team is naked!"

“Hah!” Sarge bellows. “And so your plot is foiled again, scumbags!"

Church hefts the sniper rifle, and the Reds retreat while Tucker contemplates how it is fucking bullshit that Sarge and Simmons have glowing tattoos while he doesn't.

Tucker finds out about Donut's tattoo when the Reds mount Operation Weaponized Birthday Cake, and just. The less said about that, the better.

(But sometimes Tucker wakes up in the middle of the night and wonders. You’d need some kind of mad science or alien technology just to make a glowing tattoo. How the hell do you make a tattoo that glows and throws out sparkles?)

Grif's tattoo is different.

Tucker still feels guilty, when he remembers seeing it.

What happens is this: Tucker finally has some free time, and sometimes, when a man has free time, he just really wants a chance to enjoy some nude sunbathing. Without his asshole CO screeching at him or his idiot teammate wanting to join in.

There's this one little nook of the canyon that Church and Caboose don't seem to know about. Sarge and Simmons don't seem to know about it either, because Tucker knows that Grif goes there sometimes too. There have even been a few times they even hung out together—not naked, okay, that would be weird—but sometimes, a man wants to spend time around an asshole who isn't one of the assholes he has to live with every day. And who thinks this war is about as much bullshit as he does.

So one day, Tucker goes to the spot. Caboose tried to cook at 2 AM the night before, which meant the base caught on fire, which meant no one got any sleep, which meant Tucker just really wants to stretch out in the sun and not think about anything for an hour.

Except apparently, Grif had exactly the same idea. He's flat on his stomach, face down, snoring loudly. And stark-ass naked.

What Tucker's staring at isn't Grif's ass, though, it's his back.

It's a work of art.

And it's a war zone.

Because Grif is tattooed the same way Caboose is—different symbols, but the same glowing blue lines, obviously Sangheili—but the skin around the tattoos is ridged and puckered with scars. Somebody ripped Grif's back apart before decorating it, and shit shit shit, Tucker’s suddenly remembering that Grif fought against the aliens before Blood Gulch—something about colony destroyed and only survivor—and he doesn’t know exactly how that left Grif's back scarred around glowing Sangheili symbols, but he does not want to ask.

He backs away silently, and never, ever tells Grif what he saw.

Nothing will ever make Tucker admit it, but he never actually gets lucky with Kai, and the whole reason is the fit he pitches when he sees that glowing golden tramp stamp.

(It’s not fragile masculinity, it’s this fucking CONSPIRACY of tattoos around him. The first rule of Blue Team is Be Cool and nobody is letting him be cool.)

There's one thing that Tucker likes about Wash right from the start:

He doesn't have any tattoos.

Okay, fine, Tucker's never checked. But even if Project Freelancer was dumb enough to let its super-secret operatives have glowing tattoos, there is absolutely no way that Agent "I love drills and protocol" Washington would have gotten one.

The loser probably doesn't even have any piercings.

Maybe that's why Tucker actually feels like he can complain to him, one evening at the crash site, after he's done ten fucking million squats and hates everything.

"Seriously. Literally everyone has a glowing tattoo except for me. It's not fair."

For once, Wash has not only his helmet but the entire top half of his armor off. Does that mean he's decided to relax and be less of an asshole? No, it just means he can pinch the bridge of his nose at Tucker.

"I don't think that's very important, Private Tucker."

"Fuck yeah it's important! Tattoos are cool, and the first rule of Blue Team is be cool."

"Well," says Wash, desert-dryly, "I'm Blue Team leader, and I say you can be on Blue Team even if you're not cool."

"Ugh, like I care what you think." Tucker slouches back in his chair, wishing for the hundredth time that Church was here. Even though Church would probably just say, Shut up, Tucker.

"You know," says Wash, "if you actually tried at all, you'd be a pretty cool soldier."

"Shut up, asshole," Tucker groans, but he can't help smiling a little because, y'know. Wash may be a complete loser but he's also a Freelancer. Who thinks that Tucker could be cool.

It's not a tattoo, but it's kind of nice.

Then there's Felix and then there's Locus, and then Wash calls, Freckles, shake.

In the days and weeks after, the New Republic soldiers stare at Tucker like he's some sort of badass rock star god, and all Tucker can think is that he never wanted to be this cool, not like this.

Not at this price.

When Tucker wakes up in the hospital after fighting Felix at the radio tower—well, the first thing he thinks is my feet are shiny, because holy fuck, Grey has him on a lot of drugs.

But once he stops having conversations with his IV, and once the good news sinks in—that they won, that his friends are all alive, that the Feds and the New Republic have an alliance—

One of the first things that Tucker thinks is, Well, I guess it's back to being Private Tucker.

Except. Wash calls him "Captain," and doesn't order him to run laps when they disagree. He doesn't boss Tucker's squad around, unless they've been sent to him for training.

Slowly, Tucker starts to realize that Wash believes in his rank, is trying to support him, and it's just. He has to go sit next to Grif and wordlessly drink a few beers, that's what it means to him.

He swears to himself that he's going to live up to this.

Tucker's going to die soon.

If he's lucky.

Because Felix grabbed him . . . Tucker isn't sure how long ago, but it's been far too long and now he hurts more than he ever thought possible.  And he tried not to scream, he tried to be brave, he really fucking tried—

But.

Well.

In the end, when Felix stuck the camera in his face and said, Ask them to come for you, Tucker choked on a sob and said, Wash, please.

He's been alone since that, lying in his own blood on the floor of this cell. Felix didn't bother restraining him again, because he knows that Tucker's too broken to fight anymore. He can't even bring himself to sit up; all he can do is lie here and think miserably of how fucking disappointed Wash is going to be in him.

Everyone will be disappointed—Carolina and Kimball and stupid Palomo—but Wash is the first one who believed in him, who said, You just need to try, and Tucker tried and tried and now here he is, broken and begging on command so Felix can use him as bait.

At least he knows that Wash will stop Caboose from watching the message. That's something.

There's also this: Wash is going to kill Felix. Tucker knows that, and even if he isn't going to be around to see it, he finds it pretty comforting. Wash is going to make Felix regret that he ever leaned close and said, Y'know, this is basic RTI training for a Freelancer. But I guess even that's too much for you.

Tucker remembers what happened right after Felix said that, and he shudders and wheezes and fuck, everything hurts.

He doesn't want to die, but he really, really wants this to stop.

The door of his cell opens.

"Oh, hey there, Tucker. Ready for some more fun?"

Just the sound of Felix's voice makes him start shaking now. It's Pavlovian and it's fucked and Tucker hates it.

He wonders if he could manage to barf on Felix's boots in revenge.

"Yeah, I've gotten pretty bored with our little chats too." Felix hauls him up—Tucker bites back a whimper—and drags him out the door. "But you see, somebody's melodramatic Freelancer boyfriend decided to turn up with a bomb and a deadman switch, so it's time for you to be useful."

"He's not my boyfriend," Tucker mutters. He can barely keep his feet under him; he’s pretty sure that if Felix wasn’t dragging him along the hallway, he’d fall over. Felix is a fucking artist with his knife, but Tucker’s still lost a lot of blood by now, and he hasn’t eaten or slept since they grabbed him.

Then Tucker’s brain catches up, and his spine turns to ice as he really understands what Felix said, and all he can think is Oh shit oh shit he actually came.

Wash wasn't supposed to come for him. Tucker had been so sure that he wouldn't obey Felix's "come alone and unarmed" message.

That's the only—well, Tucker would like to think that's the only reason he broke. Because Wash has lectured him about negotiations with hostages and terrorists, Tucker knows what the protocol is, why the fuck does this have to be the one time that Agent Washington doesn't want to follow protocol?

Felix drags him through the base—there are mercs everywhere, Wash is never getting out of this alive, and Tucker wonders dizzily if he can get Felix to shoot him somehow, but then Felix drags him into a room and there's—

Wash.

Helmet off, no gun, holding a crooked bundle of wires and flashing lights that has to be the bomb.

He looks like shit, the circles under his eyes worse than ever, stubble on his chin and his mouth set in that line of "I've just woken up from a nightmare about my whole team dying and I'm sure it will come true."

That expression used to mean that Tucker was going to do worse drills than usual, and now it means that Tucker is going to watch his best friend die.

And it will be all his fault.

Fuck.

"Don't—" he manages to rasp out, and then Felix has him forced to his knees, one hand gripping Tucker’s dreads, the other pressing a pistol to the base of his skull.

"Okay, Agent Washington, here's your little friend. He's alive and he's even going to stay that way, if you do what I tell you."

There's a glorious moment where Tucker imagines Wash saying, Fuck no, and backflipping across the room while he pulls out two rifles and then dual-wields his way through a slow-mo, totally awesome battle that ends with Felix and Locus both dead.

But Wash just says, "Okay," and he drops the bomb.

"Well, that's a good first step," says Felix. "Now take off that armor."

And Wash does. He pulls it off piece by piece—Tucker can count on one hand the number of times he's seen Wash totally unarmored, and now Felix is making it happen and it's like. The worst and most depressing stripper show ever.

If Tucker somehow survives this, he will never forgive himself.

When Wash is stripped down to his kevlar undersuit, Felix laughs and says, "Really? It’s that easy to make you give up? Locus is going to be disappointed, I gotta tell you."

"Let him go," says Wash, staring at Felix with the same unsettlingly direct stare as when he told Tucker, You just have to stick with what you think is best. "I did what you wanted."

But Felix laughs and shakes his head. “Oh, no, no. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice—see, I read your psych profile. I know you have far too much tragic backstory to bring a secret AI like Tucker did. So you’ve obviously got some other surprise hidden on you. You want me to believe you’ve surrendered? You’ll have to get naked."

Shit, he’s probably right. The plan’s gone wrong, and Wash needs to get out while there’s still time. Tucker finds his voice and says, "Wash—stop—"

But Wash is already peeling off his undersuit.

And Tucker sees Wash's skin. His shoulders and his arms and his chest.

There are glowing blue lines everywhere.

"What the fuck?" says Felix, and it takes Tucker a moment to realize it wasn't just him thinking it, because what the fuck.

Wash is covered in glowing blue tattoos, from wrist to throat to navel. They're not Sangheili symbols like Grif and Caboose, and they're not a circuitboard like Simmons, and they're not Blood Gulch symbols like Sarge. They're Greek letters and swirls and lines, and they say Epsilon and they say more, Alpha-Beta-Delta-Sigma-Omega-Gamma-Theta-Eta-Iota, and Tucker's regretting every time he made a crack about Wash staying in his armor. Because the whole painful history of the Freelancer AIs is written on Wash's skin and Tucker has no right to see this, he doesn't want to see this, but he's looking at it just the same.

And then Tucker realizes what that means: Wash had those tattoos all along.

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?" he howls.

He knows he's having hysterics. But this is it. This is how he dies. Not from Felix's torture, not from a bullet to the brain, but from Agent fucking Washington and his fucking glowing tattoos what the fuck.

"Wow, Tucker," says Church, appearing in front of him. "I had no idea you were so insecure." Then he flickers up into Felix's face. "Oh, yeah. I've been hacking your base. No biggie. Seriously, you didn't think I could be in Wash's armor instead of his implants?"

There's an explosion from outside, and the next moment, Wash is right there, kicking gun out of Felix’s hand, then dodging back when Felix lunges for him.

"And it wasn't a bomb," Wash calls out smugly, bouncing on his toes. "It was a homing device.”

“For the reinforcements,” Church adds. “Bitch.”

Felix lets out a scream of rage and charges Wash. Who is, wow, actually really good at fighting naked. Tucker wonders dizzily if that’s a thing they trained at in Project Freelancer, and if he can get Carolina to give him lessons, and then suddenly he just doesn’t have any strength left and he falls over. Everything is a blur of pain and what the fuck, and Tucker hears Church say, "Okay, seriously Tucker, this isn't funny," but he's lost the ability to speak.

Gradually, things stop hurting. There's this wonderful cool, floaty feeling. Tucker realizes it's the healing unit. He's lying on his back, the healing unit is running, he's not dead and therefore Wash kicked Felix's ass.

Sweet.

He opens his eyes. Wash is leaning over him.

"You fuck," says Tucker. "You have a tattoo."

Wash makes this weird noise that's almost like a laugh. "Yeah. Sorry about that."

"Dude. Not fair."

Wash is back in his undersuit, because nothing will make him less of a prude, and Tucker is—

—Tucker is alive, he can't believe it, he's alive and he's safe and Felix isn't there to smile and say, Well, actually, as he slides the knife in and. 

And then Tucker remembers that if Wash is here, then he watched the message. He knows how weak Tucker is.

"Sorry," he mutters. “Guess I really fucked up.”

He has a feeling he's going to be saying that a lot, when he gets back.

"It's fine," Wash says soothingly. "Everything's okay."

And that hurts, somehow, more than any stern reprimands to Private Tucker possibly could.

"It's not," says Tucker. "I—I broke, okay, I begged when he told me too, and—and—"

"Tucker," says Wash, and it's that voice, the extra-calm Freelancer voice, the one that Tucker can believe even when he's totally panicking, that he could follow into any sort of danger. "You survived. That's okay. That's, uh. Pretty cool."

"Yeah, it's more than most of the Freelancers managed," Church adds, appearing by Wash's shoulder.

"Epsilon," Wash growls.

"What? Comms are down, so is security, Carolina already took out Locus and Felix McFuckface here is not going to wake up for a while. Relax."

". . . I can't believe you have a tattoo," Tucker mumbles.

"Yeah, it's, uh." Wash stops.

"Wow, I just realized I should be literally anywhere else," says Church, and disappears.

“Side-effect of the implantation," Wash finishes with a sigh.

"So Carolina also has one?"

Wash cracks a grin. "Nope. She has two."

"Ugh. That's so unfair." Tucker tries to sit up, and the world swims around him. Wash sets a steadying hand on his back.

Tucker can hear crashes and screams and explosions in the distance—the cavalry, obviously. Lots of them. Shit, did everyone come on this mission?

"Tell you what," says Wash, his voice only a little bit condescending. "When you get out of the hospital, I'll help you get a cool tattoo.”

Tucker hurts everywhere. He's not okay. He doesn’t want to think about how long he’ll be in the hospital, or how many of his friends heard him beg in that recording, or how soon he’ll start dreaming about Felix.

But Wash's hand is warm and comforting against his spine. Tucker’s alive, and everyone came to save him, and Wash isn’t ashamed of him. And he thinks . . . maybe he’s going to be okay, eventually.

“Oh, like you know anything about what's cool," he says, and Wash laughs.