[The yeah, because genocide isn't a particular kink I'm into sat on his lips, but he dropped it. He had to. Bigger shit was coming up, like a volcano exploding, and Tucker just stared.
He wasn't expecting that.
And shit, he couldn't blame Wash, not at all, because he knew if the situation was reversed, he'd be screaming and losing his shit, too. Hell, he was barely keeping it together now because he was supposed to be getting Church, not just any Church either, but Alpha, that sonofabitch who died for what felt like no fucking reason. Who didn't say goodbye. Who didn't even bother to leave him a fucking message or seek him out.
Who he missed like crazy.
So yeah, Wash, he got it. He felt for you, especially about your past, with the things you had done and the people who you had collected, and Tucker sure as shit wouldn't make you get his body, even if he meant he wasn't getting laid. But--but it wasn't about him. He was alive; he made it out, they both could see it.
It was about the rest of them.
Tucker opened his mouth, shut it, opened it again. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He wanted to tell you, Wash. He wanted to tell you everything, wanted to tell you that Caboose was still getting into trouble that seemed completely illogical and impossible. He wanted to tell you that Grif was teaching Carolina about being lazy and Simmons was doing nerd shit and Sarge was waging a dumb war while Donut became an accidental arsonist. He wanted to tell you that it was the lack of Church's bitching that seemed oppressive, the only hole they couldn't fill, the only thing that kept it from feeling like Blood Gulch.]
Grif said -- [He sighed, rubbed his hand against his leg and started again. This wasn't going to go well; he could feel it in the air.] Grif said you won't tell him about any of the shit that happened because you're worried it's going to mess up the future.
[He couldn't lose Caboose. He couldn't lose Wash or Carolina even the Reds. He couldn't. And if it meant his friend being upset, well, he'd take that rage over him possibly dying any day.]
Pretty sure the rules you made should apply to you, too.
no subject
He wasn't expecting that.
And shit, he couldn't blame Wash, not at all, because he knew if the situation was reversed, he'd be screaming and losing his shit, too. Hell, he was barely keeping it together now because he was supposed to be getting Church, not just any Church either, but Alpha, that sonofabitch who died for what felt like no fucking reason. Who didn't say goodbye. Who didn't even bother to leave him a fucking message or seek him out.
Who he missed like crazy.
So yeah, Wash, he got it. He felt for you, especially about your past, with the things you had done and the people who you had collected, and Tucker sure as shit wouldn't make you get his body, even if he meant he wasn't getting laid. But--but it wasn't about him. He was alive; he made it out, they both could see it.
It was about the rest of them.
Tucker opened his mouth, shut it, opened it again. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He wanted to tell you, Wash. He wanted to tell you everything, wanted to tell you that Caboose was still getting into trouble that seemed completely illogical and impossible. He wanted to tell you that Grif was teaching Carolina about being lazy and Simmons was doing nerd shit and Sarge was waging a dumb war while Donut became an accidental arsonist. He wanted to tell you that it was the lack of Church's bitching that seemed oppressive, the only hole they couldn't fill, the only thing that kept it from feeling like Blood Gulch.]
Grif said -- [He sighed, rubbed his hand against his leg and started again. This wasn't going to go well; he could feel it in the air.] Grif said you won't tell him about any of the shit that happened because you're worried it's going to mess up the future.
[He couldn't lose Caboose. He couldn't lose Wash or Carolina even the Reds. He couldn't. And if it meant his friend being upset, well, he'd take that rage over him possibly dying any day.]
Pretty sure the rules you made should apply to you, too.