who_is_she (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
who_is_she) wrote2014-10-28 05:50 pm
who_is_she) wrote2014-10-28 05:50 pm
so take a look at what you've done cause baby now we got bad blood
Tony doesn't leave his room for two days.
Or, well, that's not completely accurate because he leaves to use the bathroom and get food, but only during the night and he taps into the ship's proximity sensors to make sure he doesn't bump into anyone in the halls.
So, more accurately: nobody sees Tony for two days.
When he does emerge finally, his hair is neat and clean and his uniform is pressed like it always is, and he makes a valiant effort at pretending everything is fine. He makes up an excuse about a sudden illness that he didn't want to spread to the rest of the crew, but he's fairly sure nobody believes him.
Roddie ignores him for a week, and Tony does his best to not notice or care, but it's not easy.
At first, Tony thinks well, he hates me now, but at least us getting together isn't a problem anymore, but this hollow comfort increasingly fills him with despair. He gets a video message from his mother halfway through the week where Roddie is ignoring him, updating him on everything he's missing and reminding him of how he'd unexpectedly applied for a six month extension to what was supposed to be a two-month mission.
That had been before the kiss, or the almost kiss. Tony had never told Roddie when he was supposed to be leaving, and when he'd gotten to the point where there were only a few weeks left he hadn't been able to face leaving yet. He's applied for a six month extension, claiming that he felt the initial observation period hadn't been sufficient and he was in the middle of implementing changes that he felt would greatly benefit the crew. It hadn't been a lie, exactly, but the extension had really been more about Tony not wanting to leave this group of people he had come to think of as his friends.
He hadn't told his mother about it directly, of course, but the paperwork found its way back into her hands anyways. She'd been insistent that the extension wasn't needed, and had brought it up in every message she had sent since he'd filed it. When Tony receives the latest message he is immediately, confusingly terrified, and plays it with shaking hands. Roddie's words keep echoing around in his head while he listens to her speak: Because it seems to me like what they want is for you to fulfill a list of requirements that make THEM look good, your wants and needs be damned, and you...you just deserve better than that, that's all. She reminds Tony that he should be focused on his future, not gallivanting around the universe in a space ship, and she mentions that she saw Evan--the boy he'd been on-and-off with for years--recently, that he looked good, that he'd asked after Tony. She tells him his father is very busy with his senate campaign and she says that if Tony wasn't on the other side of the galaxy his father would be having a better time with it. She ends the message with a comment about Tony making sure to remember to do his laundry and wash his hair and then laughs like it's a harmless joke. She doesn't say I love you before signing off.
For a long time after the message ends Tony stares at the screen without thinking it, hearing Roddie's voice in his head telling him he deserves better and he doesn't believe it, not for a moment, but he kind of wants to. He deletes the message, still shaking badly, and when his mother sends another the next day he doesn't open it.
Roddie leaves a gag gift on Tony's bed one day, and Tony nearly cries when he sees it. He tries to return it but Roddie just laughs, it's strained and quiet but it's still a laugh, and for the first time Tony realizes maybe they will recover from this. They will never be as close as they were, but maybe there's still something to salvage between them. The rush of emotion carries him through an apology for what he'd said about Roddie's parents, and Roddie just shrugs him off, but something eases in his eyes.
Tony wants to open his mouth and say more, wants to talk to Roddie about what he'd said, wants to air his doubts and confess that he'd combed through months of video messages from his mother (none from his father, he never bothered) and she hadn't ended a single one with I love you. He wants to talk about it, but the truce between them is too tenuous, so he stays quiet.
Things get easier between them, and with each day Tony comes closer to convincing himself that the way his parents treat him isn't right, but other things just get more difficult.
The problem with questioning his parents is that it makes wanting Roddie so much more difficult. If he is allowed to want Roddie, if he can think about being with Roddie, then what the hell is he supposed to do? He's already burned that bridge. It's too little, too late.
He's haunted by the feeling of Roddie's lips, the searing heat of Roddie's hands against his skin, he feels it like a phantom touch, he tells himself that if he could do it over he wouldn't have let Roddie pull away, wouldn't have let their lips stop touching, wouldn't have let Roddie's hands leave his leg, his neck, his hair.
He tells himself that even if he had allowed himself to indulge, it still would have been one night. And even though Tony wants that desperately--he wants Roddie to hold him, wants to be taken--he wants more. He wants to hold Roddie's hand while they watch movies and wants to cook him dinner and wants to be the one Roddie finds in the middle of the night when he can't sleep and he never wants to leave Roddie's side again. Roddie doesn't want that from him. That's the last in the line of crumbling walls.
~
They're taking a weekend off from taking jobs while they're docked at a large space station, known more for it's entertainment ring than it's security or docking bay, and one night Roddie insists that everybody get off the ship and go out to the bars. Tony makes a token protest that is ignored, and spends the night watching Roddie chat up a cute alien at the bar and sipping at a drink that tastes foul.
"What are you glaring at?" Vera asks him at one point, following his gaze to where Roddie is leaned back against the bar, one elbow casually draped over the alien's shoulder, his head tilted close to their's. Vera laughs knowingly.
"Nothing!" Tony says, looking away, but Vera goes on laughing. After a moment he sighs, rolling his eyes, "I just don't understand how he can sleep with a different person every night." Vera, Zakeef and Boscha all give him the same confused frown.
"What are you talking about?" Vera asks, her head tilting to the side. Tony shrugs, uncomfortable now.
"I mean, it's awkward, isn't it? Haven't some of you guys, you know," Tony gestures vaguely, "Been with him? Like that?" Vera immediately bursts into giggles at Tony's question, Boscha's loud, booming laughter making Tony wince and even Zakeef laughs once, more of a snort than a laugh.
"Oh my god, that's hilarious!" Vera says, wiping a tear from her eye. Tony stares at them. He'd always assumed Roddie had slept with all the members of his crew at some point, based on the casual affection he was always sharing with them. He was sure he'd heard Roddie call them all attractive at some point, and his head spins with the possibility that his assumption had been incorrect.
"You mean, none of you...?" Tony asks, and all three of them shake their heads in unison, "He didn't even try?"
"Of course not, sweetie. He just likes hugs!" Vera's explanation seems less than satisfactory, but Tony doesn't think he can press for more information without making his motives incredibly obvious. He downs the rest of drink instead.
Soon after that Tony cites a headache and makes his escape, leaving the bar before Roddie can find him and demand he drink more. His head is buzzing a little from what alcohol he had consumed, and the information that Roddie wasn't nearly as easy as Tony had always assumed. The playboy pirate stereotype had always fit so well with Roddie, but now that Tony thinks about it he can only think of one person that he knows for sure slept with Roddie, and that was Roddie's horrible ex.
He can't help but wonder if his other assumptions are wrong; if maybe Roddie hadn't just wanted one night with him. He thinks about the tears in Roddie's eyes, the shaking in his voice, I've been dying to do that for- I don't even know how long.
Tony sits down hard on his bed, realizing dawning on him that he may have made a colossal mistake.
Or, well, that's not completely accurate because he leaves to use the bathroom and get food, but only during the night and he taps into the ship's proximity sensors to make sure he doesn't bump into anyone in the halls.
So, more accurately: nobody sees Tony for two days.
When he does emerge finally, his hair is neat and clean and his uniform is pressed like it always is, and he makes a valiant effort at pretending everything is fine. He makes up an excuse about a sudden illness that he didn't want to spread to the rest of the crew, but he's fairly sure nobody believes him.
Roddie ignores him for a week, and Tony does his best to not notice or care, but it's not easy.
At first, Tony thinks well, he hates me now, but at least us getting together isn't a problem anymore, but this hollow comfort increasingly fills him with despair. He gets a video message from his mother halfway through the week where Roddie is ignoring him, updating him on everything he's missing and reminding him of how he'd unexpectedly applied for a six month extension to what was supposed to be a two-month mission.
That had been before the kiss, or the almost kiss. Tony had never told Roddie when he was supposed to be leaving, and when he'd gotten to the point where there were only a few weeks left he hadn't been able to face leaving yet. He's applied for a six month extension, claiming that he felt the initial observation period hadn't been sufficient and he was in the middle of implementing changes that he felt would greatly benefit the crew. It hadn't been a lie, exactly, but the extension had really been more about Tony not wanting to leave this group of people he had come to think of as his friends.
He hadn't told his mother about it directly, of course, but the paperwork found its way back into her hands anyways. She'd been insistent that the extension wasn't needed, and had brought it up in every message she had sent since he'd filed it. When Tony receives the latest message he is immediately, confusingly terrified, and plays it with shaking hands. Roddie's words keep echoing around in his head while he listens to her speak: Because it seems to me like what they want is for you to fulfill a list of requirements that make THEM look good, your wants and needs be damned, and you...you just deserve better than that, that's all. She reminds Tony that he should be focused on his future, not gallivanting around the universe in a space ship, and she mentions that she saw Evan--the boy he'd been on-and-off with for years--recently, that he looked good, that he'd asked after Tony. She tells him his father is very busy with his senate campaign and she says that if Tony wasn't on the other side of the galaxy his father would be having a better time with it. She ends the message with a comment about Tony making sure to remember to do his laundry and wash his hair and then laughs like it's a harmless joke. She doesn't say I love you before signing off.
For a long time after the message ends Tony stares at the screen without thinking it, hearing Roddie's voice in his head telling him he deserves better and he doesn't believe it, not for a moment, but he kind of wants to. He deletes the message, still shaking badly, and when his mother sends another the next day he doesn't open it.
Roddie leaves a gag gift on Tony's bed one day, and Tony nearly cries when he sees it. He tries to return it but Roddie just laughs, it's strained and quiet but it's still a laugh, and for the first time Tony realizes maybe they will recover from this. They will never be as close as they were, but maybe there's still something to salvage between them. The rush of emotion carries him through an apology for what he'd said about Roddie's parents, and Roddie just shrugs him off, but something eases in his eyes.
Tony wants to open his mouth and say more, wants to talk to Roddie about what he'd said, wants to air his doubts and confess that he'd combed through months of video messages from his mother (none from his father, he never bothered) and she hadn't ended a single one with I love you. He wants to talk about it, but the truce between them is too tenuous, so he stays quiet.
Things get easier between them, and with each day Tony comes closer to convincing himself that the way his parents treat him isn't right, but other things just get more difficult.
The problem with questioning his parents is that it makes wanting Roddie so much more difficult. If he is allowed to want Roddie, if he can think about being with Roddie, then what the hell is he supposed to do? He's already burned that bridge. It's too little, too late.
He's haunted by the feeling of Roddie's lips, the searing heat of Roddie's hands against his skin, he feels it like a phantom touch, he tells himself that if he could do it over he wouldn't have let Roddie pull away, wouldn't have let their lips stop touching, wouldn't have let Roddie's hands leave his leg, his neck, his hair.
He tells himself that even if he had allowed himself to indulge, it still would have been one night. And even though Tony wants that desperately--he wants Roddie to hold him, wants to be taken--he wants more. He wants to hold Roddie's hand while they watch movies and wants to cook him dinner and wants to be the one Roddie finds in the middle of the night when he can't sleep and he never wants to leave Roddie's side again. Roddie doesn't want that from him. That's the last in the line of crumbling walls.
~
They're taking a weekend off from taking jobs while they're docked at a large space station, known more for it's entertainment ring than it's security or docking bay, and one night Roddie insists that everybody get off the ship and go out to the bars. Tony makes a token protest that is ignored, and spends the night watching Roddie chat up a cute alien at the bar and sipping at a drink that tastes foul.
"What are you glaring at?" Vera asks him at one point, following his gaze to where Roddie is leaned back against the bar, one elbow casually draped over the alien's shoulder, his head tilted close to their's. Vera laughs knowingly.
"Nothing!" Tony says, looking away, but Vera goes on laughing. After a moment he sighs, rolling his eyes, "I just don't understand how he can sleep with a different person every night." Vera, Zakeef and Boscha all give him the same confused frown.
"What are you talking about?" Vera asks, her head tilting to the side. Tony shrugs, uncomfortable now.
"I mean, it's awkward, isn't it? Haven't some of you guys, you know," Tony gestures vaguely, "Been with him? Like that?" Vera immediately bursts into giggles at Tony's question, Boscha's loud, booming laughter making Tony wince and even Zakeef laughs once, more of a snort than a laugh.
"Oh my god, that's hilarious!" Vera says, wiping a tear from her eye. Tony stares at them. He'd always assumed Roddie had slept with all the members of his crew at some point, based on the casual affection he was always sharing with them. He was sure he'd heard Roddie call them all attractive at some point, and his head spins with the possibility that his assumption had been incorrect.
"You mean, none of you...?" Tony asks, and all three of them shake their heads in unison, "He didn't even try?"
"Of course not, sweetie. He just likes hugs!" Vera's explanation seems less than satisfactory, but Tony doesn't think he can press for more information without making his motives incredibly obvious. He downs the rest of drink instead.
Soon after that Tony cites a headache and makes his escape, leaving the bar before Roddie can find him and demand he drink more. His head is buzzing a little from what alcohol he had consumed, and the information that Roddie wasn't nearly as easy as Tony had always assumed. The playboy pirate stereotype had always fit so well with Roddie, but now that Tony thinks about it he can only think of one person that he knows for sure slept with Roddie, and that was Roddie's horrible ex.
He can't help but wonder if his other assumptions are wrong; if maybe Roddie hadn't just wanted one night with him. He thinks about the tears in Roddie's eyes, the shaking in his voice, I've been dying to do that for- I don't even know how long.
Tony sits down hard on his bed, realizing dawning on him that he may have made a colossal mistake.
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This was not the first time something like this this had happened to Roddie. In fact, his desperation for company had landed him in several situations similar to this, especially more recently, in the wake of the falling out he'd had with Tony.
When he gets to the ship, he realizes he's left his keys. He bangs his head against the side of the ship, cursing, before walking around the ship in a circle, taking a peek into everyone's windows.
Everyone is already asleep. Everyone except Tony.
Roddie hesitates before lightly tapping on his window.
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When the knock comes, Tony squeaks and falls off his bed.
It takes him a long moment to realize what happened, and then turn wide eyes to the window. When he sees Roddie there he breathes a sigh of relief, then flushes brightly at his embarrassing reaction. He picks himself up off the floor and gets up, peering through the porthole at Roddie.
"What are you--" he starts to ask, before he realizes Roddie can't hear him, and makes an exaggerated shrugging gesture, hoping Roddie knows he's asking why he's knocking on Tony's window in the middle of the night.
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"Oh!" he mouths, and then nods and gestures towards the door before turning to leave. As he makes his way to the main hatch of the ship, he realizes why Roddie is locked out of the ship in the middle of the night. He must have gone home with the alien he'd been flirting with and then left after getting his rocks off. Tony frowns, pushing away the mental imagine of Roddie and the alien getting... intimate.
By the time he opens up the hatch he's trying not to scowl and make scathing comments at Roddie. It's none of his business who Roddie decides to spend his nights with. At least, part of his nights, anyways.
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"Thanks, man," he says breathlessly, "I've been running back for like an hour and I just realized I forgot my keys. I don't know what I would have done if you weren't up. Vira's impossible to get up and Boscha and Zakeef are...you know, cranky, to put it lightly,"
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"Uhh. Date?" he asks, scratching his head.
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He can't stop himself from the snide remarks, no matter how much he regrets them the moment they leave his mouth.
"You're right, I guess it doesn't count as a date if you just have a quickie and then run home. Did you even bother to get their name?"
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"Their name is Zurir," he snaps, unable to fight the urge to justify himself despite feeling that Tony didn't deserve an explanation from him, "And for your information, nothing happened. Jesus, what the hell is your deal?"
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"Sorry. I didn't..." Tony stops, bites his lip and shakes his head, "I'm sorry." He shuffles awkwardly, guiltily searching for something to make up for his actions, something a friend would say to another friend.
"Did you... Have a nice time?" Tony asks haltingly, practically oozing guilty awkwardness.
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"What's it to you if we had screwed around anyway?" he snaps at him, unable to control the words that come pouring out of his mouth. "I'm not with you. You don't want anything to do with me. You barely even talk to me anymore. You don't even gripe at me for throwing my dirty laundry all over the floor and I,"
He stops when he almost says I miss you, and I don't understand why you're yanking me around like this.
"...I'm going to bed," he says instead, and starts walking down the hallway, slowly, like he's waiting for Tony to call him back and apologize, for real.
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Roddie turns, and Tony opens his mouth to speak. He wants to spill everything, wants to give Roddie every shred of information he'd always kept close to his heart, wants to apologize for so many things and he wants to scream, wants to shout I'm in love with you so that the whole damn space station hears. He wants so badly to reach out, to try and fix this, to get a second chance at seeing that warm light in Roddie's eyes.
Tony makes a small, strangled noise and then that little angry voice in the back of his head speaks up. This is what you deserve, it says, and Tony falls silent. The voice is right, and Tony turns and bolts down the hall in the opposite direction. He's gone before Roddie even makes it a few feet.
~
That night, Tony fills out the paperwork.
He tells himself Roddie deserves better, that Roddie needs to go his way without Tony holding him back and causing him problems at every turn. He sends his mother a message, tells her that they'd been traveling through a communications dead zone and he hadn't been able to receive her messages. He tells her she's right about the extension, and he's going to wrap up his work and then come home, as soon as he can manage.
He keeps it together until Mozart jumps up into his lap, purring loudly, and he starts to cry. His apartment doesn't allow pets, and even if he moved his mother is allergic. He can't bring the cat with him. He hopes Roddie doesn't mind taking care of the cat for him.
It takes him a couple of days to gather the nerve, but when he does he takes a tablet with the paperwork on it and leaves his room. He wishes he could just go; he should have taken care of this while they were still docked at the space station but he couldn't manage it.
Roddie is alone on the bridge when Tony gets there, and he breathes a quiet sigh of relief.
"Roddie--" he starts, and then tries again, "Captain. I..." he swallows, unable to look Roddie in the eye as he spits out what he's trying to say, "I've decided to return to Earth. My initial assignment was supposed to last two months, and I requested and extension but I now feel that that extension is not required. I need you to sign off on the paperwork, as the Captain of this vessel." Tony retreats into his words, so he can remove himself from the moment and not break down while speaking about this. He hands over the tablet.
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His heart sinks even lower as Tony continues talking, but all he can manage to do is nod and stare at the ground.
"You want to leave," he says, more to himself than to Tony. "I..."
He wants to tell him to stay. To tell him that things won't ever be the same again without him. He even wants to say that he's sorry for being angry with him. The fact that it was well-earned anger doesn't matter to him anymore. He feels like Tony's been gone ever since he'd kissed him, but he finds he can't imagine him actually leaving.
He takes a deep breath and tries to collect himself.
"All right," he says finally, "if that's what you want. We can set a course to take you home whenever you're ready."
He has to approach him to sign the paperwork and closing the distance between them ties his stomach in knots. His hand brushes against Tony's as he moves to take the tablet out of his hands, and he scrolls through it, and signs his name on the line. His signature is a mess even when his hands aren't shaking slightly like they are now.
He hands it back to him. He can't look him in the eyes.
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"I have some things to take care of, but they'll be done soon. I've almost fully implemented that logging software I developed and I'll leave instructions for it. I... I've instructed that there will be no need for a replacement so... You'll be free. No G-man looking over your shoulder anymore," Tony says, his voice still flat and neutral, but after he speaks he turns away and swallows thickly.
"I can't take Mozart with me," Tony says, his voice wavering for the first time since he stepped on the bridge, "I wish I could but... My apartment doesn't allow cats, and he loves this ship. I don't want him to leave his home," Tony pauses, taking a moment to take a deep breath. He's not going to get through all of that only to lose his composure over his cat, "I'm sorry. Please... Take good care of him."