Reprieve

Set around the time of 'Trial and Error,' when Young's shit was decisively not together. This story will have at least one other part.

Colonel Young smoothed a hand over his face, leaning on the wall to get his bearings. The corridor was deserted this hour of the night. He palmed closed the door of the still, clutching the bottle he'd filled tightly with his other hand. The first few steps tripped him up, but once he was underway he moved more fluidly, without staggering. As he passed one of the storage rooms, he heard a clatter.

The door to Storage Bay 3 was open, low light spilling out from within. In fact, Young had never seen the ship's lights so low - normally the automatic lighting was brighter. Maybe it adjusted for nighttime, he thought, though this seemed unlikely given the lack of obvious day/night distinction on the ship.

Inside the bay, Nicholas Rush knelt over an open crate, digging through tools and materials, up to his elbows in the container. The floor around him was littered with various pieces of electronic equipment, human and Ancient, and a scattering of tools.

"What the hell are you doing?" Young slurred, his embarrassment over his appearance lessening when Rush jumped in surprise.

"Col. Young," He declared, face closing, eyes narrowed. "Been having a little drink, have we?" He wrinkled his nose, judgement clearly written across his face. "Been doing a lot of that lately, aye?"

"I asked you what the hell you're doing this time of night, Rush. This area's off-limits to civilians."

Rush sneered, "There's nothing off limits when it comes to fixing this ship, Colonel."

"Fixing this ship? Fixing this ship?" He repeated, stepping closer, his free hand flexing unconsciously. "And since when have you been interested in that lately? Hiding all hours of the day and night, ignoring calls for assistance, ignoring..." He closed his eyes, suddenly feeling ill, thinking of clear blue eyes in a dark, dusty shuttle.

"I haven't ignored anything," Rush snapped, returning his attentions to the box, attacking it with unnecessary zeal.

Young snarled, his hand closing around the man's upper arm before he had even decided on it, spinning him around. He kept his grip tight, leaning over him unsteadily. Rush's lips were drawn back, baring his teeth like an animal and Young felt his own mouth twist in response.

"What have you been up to lately, Rush?" He growled, voice dangerously soft. "You're planning something. I know you."

"I don't think so!" In a flash, Rush wrenched his arm away, shooting to his feet and side-stepping the larger man.

Reaching out, Young caught him by the back of his shirt, throwing him towards the wall. "Oh, no you don't..." He said, hands on his shoulders to pin him in place. The thermos of alcohol thudded against their boots. "You run away when you know you're about to get caught. I want to know what's going on, Rush."

Bony fingers closed around his own collar as Rush tried to shove him away. Young estimated he had a good fifty pounds or more on the scientist and he leaned into him, holding him against the wall with his body.

One of Rush's hands came up to press against his cheek, pushing his head, trying to roll him away. Young slammed his shoulders against the wall again, rattling him, before catching his wrist in his hand and pinning it beside his head. Rush hissed and his knee came up between them, but Young twisted it aside with his own knee, pressing him sideways against the wall. He pressed his lower body closer, the heat of the man's body seeping into his own. Young had never felt more cold.

"For the past few weeks, you've been more mysterious than usual, Rush. Always missing, always hiding. Diagnostics go unrun, meetings unattended. You're not doing your job, Rush; your precious work. So what are you doing, huh? What are you up to?"

"I've been fixing... the ship..." Rush snarled, jerking his head forward, trying to head butt Young.

Young's free hand came up from Rush's shoulder, pressing against Rush's chin, forcing his head back. He tightened his grip on his captured wrist, making the other man shake like a wet dog in his grip. The amount of violence the smaller man could force through his body always managed to surprise Young, but it no longer caught him entirely off-guard.

"Fixing the ship? Is that what you were doing the day the shuttle crashed?" He relished the wide-eyed look of surprise that shot across the other man's face, feeling the tightness in his chest give a little in satisfaction. Rush felt guilt. This meant he was somehow to blame.

"That crash was an accident..." Rush began, voice hoarse. He twisted from side to side, trying to wriggle free, but Young merely strengthened his hold in response.

"I can't believe a word that comes out of your damn mouth," He hissed in response, mouth inches away from Rush's own, their breaths mingling.

"Then why do you keep asking me?" He replied, voice acid; lips drawn back, he bared his sharp teeth.

Why indeed? He thought bitterly. The man was a plague, eating away at every part of him. His confidence, his resolve, his emotions... everything twisted and withered in this man's presence. Rush made him angrier than he had ever felt in life, made him feel sloppy, weak, and stupid at every turn. He longed to control Rush, to force him to obey, to step down, to acquiesce. Yet the man might as well have been made of stone. He could get a rise out of him, true, but every time, that just left Young feeling as though he had still lost somehow.

"You know what you do to me, don't you?" He whispered, voice raw with anger and something else. His hand tightened on Rush's chin, twisting his head up further so their eyes met.

The other man stared back, eyes huge and wet, confusion written across the lines of his face, clearly not following his train of thought. "...What are you talking about?" He choked out, voice strangely subdued.

"You always know. You plan it this way - do it on purpose. It ends today, Rush. I'm done with it."

He smashed their lips together without thinking, grinding his whole body down against the scientist, swallowing his sounds and heat. Rush tasted wet and soft, a trace of the mint-like plant from hydroponics mingling with the bitterness of the mess's tea. The sensation of stubble scraping across his jaw was new to Young, but he persevered, drowning in the first stable connection he had felt on this ship in months.

Rush's free hand cut into his throat, squeezing blindly, making him gag. He jerked back, using his grip on his face to buck his head into the wall once, twice. When the scientist went slack for a moment, he caught up his other wrist, slamming them both above their heads in one fist.

"What are you doing?" Rush slurred, voice heavy, as he shook his bangs from his eyes. He stared up at him as though he had never seen him before, something like horror on his face.

Young let his hand comb through his hair, pushing it back to reveal his face, stroking his way down one cheek almost gently. Rush shivered against him, and he felt the tremor through their flush bodies.

"You knew it would come down to this," He growled, teeth on the edge of his ear before moving down to rake the line of his jaw.

The other man's head snapped back of its own accord, cracking against the wall. When he spoke, his accent lilted sharply, voice high and panicked. "I don't know what you're talking about... Col. Young, this isn't... You can't seriously be..."

"Shut up." He interrupted, tilting his head to the side to expose his throat. He felt Rush's wrists flex under his hand and he squeezed tightly in response, before soothing his thumb over his skin.

He pressed his mouth to Rush's throat, a long, sucking kiss that brought a groan rumbling out of his thin chest. His skin was salty and dry, tasting of the mist from the showers and a thin layer of sweat and dust. "This isn't happening..." Rush whispered, so quietly he barely heard him. "This isn't..."

Young opened his eyes then. Rush was pinned to the wall, both hands locked above his head, left leg wrenched to the side by Young's knee. He curled as far as he could to the right, the tendons in his arms and throat standing out under his skin. His eyes were tightly closed, mouth twisted in a grimace. The muscle in his jaw twitched from the force of him grinding his teeth. Beneath Young's hand, he could feel him trembling, almost imperceptibly vibrating.

"Don't be this way, Rush," He whispered, thumb stroking through his loose, dry hair. It was softer than it looked, but still rough and thick under his fingertips, separating into locks as he lifted it and let it go. "It doesn't have to be this way between us. It doesn't have to be so... hard." He buried his face in the crook of his neck, kissing more gently now over the bruise he'd made.

Rush bit back a small sound that might have been a whimper, snapping back against the wall again. "Col. Young..." He began, his voice steadier than his body. "You're drunk. You're tired. You're making a mistake and you'll regret this in the morning..."

"I regret everything, every morning," He answered, leaning down to kiss him again. He sought his mouth more gently this time, teasing his lips apart with his tongue, soothing the scrape his teeth had left the last time. Pulling back, he bowed his head, leaning their foreheads together briefly. "I regret everything about me and you, Rush. Why should this be any different?"

Rush let out a sound almost like a sob, eyes opening, staring up at the ceiling, a long deep breath shuddering out of him. "Colonel..." He whispered, voice so faint and brittle that Young immediately pressed against him again, cradling his head in his hand, burying his fingers in his hair, rubbing lightly at the back of his skull. Rush groaned again, relaxing incrementally in his grip, and he smoothed his thumb over his captured wrists again before leaning down to capture his mouth in another soft, deep kiss.

Rush let him in.

The kiss was slow, sweet, and entirely too honest. He could feel the man's throat catching, muscles pulling as he gasped into Young's mouth. He drank Rush down, feeling the heat spread through his body, making him groan himself as he twisted his hips into the other man's, where his hips met his stomach.

Immediately, Rush stilled, his mouth growing firmer, jaw clenching again, shutting him off from the kiss. He pulled back to see he had clammed back into himself, eyes tightly closed, body shying away. Young realized he was hard now, pressing insistently into the body beneath his. Rush's eyebrows were drawn together in a pained expression, body tense again.

"Rush..." He whispered, curving his hand to stroke his cheek again. Rush flinched, turning his head so his hair covered his face. "Rush..." He repeated, voice more insistent. "We need this. We both do."

"...don't..."

His voice was faint, breathy, nearly inaudible and Young froze. He had never seen the other man so tense, not even when he had cringed away from him on the alien ship, when he hadn't known why the creature had freed him. Rush was frightened - frightened of him.

Immediately, he let go, taking a step back as he pulled his hands free, dropping the captured wrists. Rush sank to the floor, sliding his back down the wall to drop at Young's feet, arms curling around himself tightly. He looked at his feet, drawn up in front of him, knees tightly locked together. Rush's breath came in soft, shallow gasps and he did not raise his eyes.

"I'm... I'm sorry. I was..." Young faltered, reaching down as though to touch his hair. Rush flinched again, but he did not look up. Young let his hand drop to his side, fingers clenching and unclenching. "Rush, shit. I'm sorry. I was out of line."

"May I please go now?" Rush whispered desolately, voice still subdued.

"Yeah. Of course. Please." Young took several steps back, giving the man space to get to his feet.

Rush kept his back to the wall, leaning on it for support as he levered himself up. Their eyes met then, but Young could not read the guarded expression. Keeping his back against the metal, the scientist skirted the room, towards the open door. His eyes, wide in the dim light, never left Young's, until his back hit empty air in the hatch. Without a word, he turned and raced away, his stride long-legged, arms pumping, hair fluttering loose around his head.

Young sank to his knees against the box Rush had been digging through earlier, glancing at it before noticing the discarded thermos beside it. Unscrewing the cap, he hesitated, guilt and desperation warring in his thoughts, before giving in and taking a swallow.

Another failure where there should have been a victory. He silently toasted his own weakness, alone in a cold, empty room.