There is foul language in this fic. I mean it's RvB so duh but still. Also, I am Tuckington trash!
Nightmare
Tucker slammed the door to his quarters open and immediately regretted it. The reverberation from the door shook his aching muscles, jarring them in places he didn't know he had. Just another reminder at how pathetic he was.
Not that he needed one. Stupid fucking Washington reminded him every chance he fucking got. Letting that excuse for a Freelancer on Blue Team was a mistake. He wasn't Church, so he should stop acting like it. Church was their leader, not this pompous asshole.
Tucker shut his door with less enthusiasm than before, blocking out the world around him without killing himself in the process. The silence of his quarters was soothing on his aching head. Once he had shared quarters with Caboose and Church. Wash refused to share sleeping space with either of them, which was fine by Tucker, as it meant he didn't have to be around the jerk 24 hours a day. Only 21. How great.
As for Caboose…well, ever since Wash had established his own space, Tucker had set out to do the same. It was easy enough convincing Caboose to sleep somewhere else. However, the vapid warrior sometimes still forgot and meandered into Tucker's room still thinking they shared. Most of the time, Tucker put a lock on the door, however, since their crash, he hadn't had the resources to. Instead he just had to deal with an ever present Caboose. Luckily, living in a strange place had taken a toll on Caboose. He rarely wandered in anymore because he couldn't find the place to begin with.
Stupid Washington. The strict military man would expect him awake within a few short hours. Tucker didn't think Wash got any sleep himself. Good. The worse off for Wash, the better for Tucker.
And he never escaped him. Tucker felt that no matter where he went, Washington was there to yell at him. It didn't help that during his rare lone times, he only had his thoughts with him, mulling over all that Wash had forced him to do that day. Even now, he was still thinking about it.
Well not anymore. Tucker wasn't one to dwell on things. Okay, that was a downright lie. He most certainly pondered things long after they were done. But not anymore. Tonight, Tucker was going to get a full night's rest. He was going to curl up in his bunk and ignore his pompous new leader at all costs. This was his time, and he wanted not even to think about the Freelancer-turned-Blue.
The problem with that line or thought was that after what he'd done that day, there was nothing really to think about. Sure, there were some things that he might go over. But he could only wonder to himself about Junior's current status so many times before there was nothing left to pick apart. He knew his son was out of high school, and that he'd joined up with his own people. That was it. How many times could he really question the rest before it, frankly, got old?
He wanted air. Not that his suit didn't provide, but Tucker couldn't stand wearing the damn thing anymore. Quietly, he stripped himself down to the under-armor: a formfitting black outfit, similar to a wetsuit. Taking a deep breath, he curled up on his stiff bunk and closed his eyes. It felt good not to have to breathe filtered air for once.
Curled up with his eyes closed, Tucker began thinking about his go-to topic, a subject that would never get old. Girls. Oh how Tucker wished there were more girls in the army. There was Sister, but they'd left her behind at Blood Gulch all those years ago. Otherwise, there were no females in the group. Well, there was one if you counted Donut, but Tucker definitely didn't count Donut.
Truth of it was, Tucker didn't want there to be women present for the diversity. In fact, instead of having women come here, he wished he could go to them. Just fucking escape this war. Not for the first time since joining the military, he wanted to just up and quit.
He missed the feminine touch. He wanted to see a woman, to brush her hair out of her face and kiss her. To have her 'ooh' and 'aah' over his battle scars. His breath ragged as he thought of all the different ways he wanted to have her.
He wasn't sure when his fantasies slipped into dreams. one second he was aware of lying in his bunk, and the next he was really there, surrounded by at least 4 women, not one of them clothed.
"Alright Vanessa," he said, pointing at one in particular. "You're next."
Clad in nothing but a bra in panties, the dark-eyes woman stepped forward. Her legs were long and slender, her skin glowing bronze in the low lights. Her long hair was pulled back over her head, revealing her angular face and sharp features. Without so much as a word, her hands ran softly down his bare chest. He stared into her warm, golden eyes and watched as they morphed, slowly changing. Now they were steely gray, cold, but with flecks of that golden brown still remaining. There were gold rings around the irises. Pale skin with dark freckles touched him ever so slightly, cold hands trailing over his numerous battle scars. His breath came ragged as his partner leaned in, lips meeting his. He felt a pulse of excitement in his lower abdomen as the other trailed his pallid lips down…down…down…
He exhaled in pleasure, closing his eyes against the sensations. "Oh," he moaned, "Washington…"
Emotion boiled over, blanching all his senses until he was overloaded with it. It was too much for dream Tucker. He snapped awake, sitting upright in bed and looking around in confusion. He was in his bunk, in his quarters. His sheets were plastered to his sweat soaked body. His heart pounded painfully in his chest. For a few long minutes, he felt terribly out of breath.
"Tucker," said a voice way too close for comfort. He jumped, his arms flailing as he tumbled straight out of his bed onto the floor. Tucker usually slept without clothes on, so it was a good thing his sheets stuck to him as he fell. Otherwise, he would have shown his naked body to his unexpected guest.
"Caboose!" he exclaimed once he'd gotten himself together. "What are you doing in my room?"
His regulation blue clad teammate looked down at him. "I heard you talking," he admitted, not a hint of shyness. "So I thought I'd come see who you were talking to."
A sense of nervousness filled Tucker. "I was talking?"
Caboose was entirely unabashed. "In your sleep."
"I talk in my sleep?"
"You were yelling." Caboose looked at him. "Why were you yelling at Washington in your sleep?"
"I what?" Tucker asked, standing bolt upright an instantly regretting it as his sheets slipped down to reveal his nakedness. Caboose stared at him for a minute.
"Yeah I'm just going to go tell Washington you need him," Caboose said, spinning on his heel.
"No wait!" Tucker called desperately whilst he wrapped himself back up in his sheets. "I don't need him."
Caboose looked confused, which wasn't a feat considering he usually did. "Then why were you yelling for him?"
Tucker tied his sheets off toga style around his body. "Okay first off, I wasn't yelling for him. You must have misheard me. Second off, I had a nightmare was all."
Caboose stared at him. "You had a dream about Washington?"
"A nightmare," Tucker corrected self-consciously. "And it wasn't about Washington."
"Didn't sound like a nightmare," Caboose wondered aloud. "You dream about Washington." Suddenly the moronic soldier gasped. "Oh my gosh, was I there?"
"No!" Tucker yelled in a rush of panic. He was glad for his dark skin, as his face flushed at the memory of his dream. "I didn't dream of Washington, and I definitely didn't dream of you."
Silence once again filled the space between them. "What time is it?" Tucker asked at last.
"It is 7 o'clock a. m. in the morning," Caboose answered right away.
"Great," he groaned. "I'm already late. Caboose, can you tell Wash that I'm on my way?"
"Okay!" Caboose said, sounding brighter under the armor. "I can tell him you were dreaming about him!"
"No, Caboose no, don't do that!" Tucker called, but it was too late. Caboose had already left. "Dammit!" he cursed in frustration, kicking the side of his bed. That didn't really help him at all though. Just left him with an aching foot.
He sat on the edge of his bed, nursing his hurt appendage, but mostly thinking. A shudder of disgust went through him at the thought of his dream. What on earth had happened? How could he go from dreaming a fantastic dream of wonderful girls to doing…that with…? He didn't even want to think of it.
Tucker was not gay. So why was he dreaming about doing sexual things with another guy? Based on the stains in his sheets, he'd enjoyed it too. His face boiled hot with embarrassment and shame.
God damn Washington! Tucker couldn't even have a fucking dream without being interrupted by the pompous Freelancer.
Speaking of the Devil… "Tucker!" Washington's voice called from right outside the door. "What are you doing? Hurry up!"
Tucker jumped to his feet, wanting to hide from his superior. There was no need, however. Washington didn't enter.
"Coming!" Tucker called back, putting all of his frustration into the one word. Damn that stupid Washington! Damn him straight to the pit!
