who_is_she (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
who_is_she) wrote2014-10-27 03:26 am
who_is_she) wrote2014-10-27 03:26 am
i don't know about you but i'm feeling 22
The picture was haunting him.
Even though he'd moved it, from next to his bed to across the room, it still haunted him. Over the last month and a half the little niggling doubt has been building up inside him, a tiny seed cultivated by a handful of other instances, little things that Tony's supposed to know but doesn't. It's the picture, in particular, that's bothering him.
A week ago, he'd seen inside Roddie's room for the first time, and had glanced at some picture frames featuring a young, tiny Roddie and his family. At the time the picture had caught his attention, but he couldn't say why; he had stared at it until his attention was called away. It wasn't until he'd been reflecting on it, hours later, that he realized what had caught his attention: the smiles. Roddie and both of his mothers had been grinning widely, incandescently, like they were delighted to just be in each other's company. At the time it had sent him scrambling for the photo of his own family and he'd stared at it for a long time. His parents were both wearing small, polite smiles, their arms around each other without hugging and looking at the camera like it was an audience to please. Tony wasn't even touching them; he was off to the side, sitting on the floor, wearing a thick red knitted sweater and staring almost blankly at the camera. His expression was somber, polite and without calling attention to himself. He looked miserable. It was nothing like the huge, uncomplicated grins from Roddie's pictures and what's more is that Anthony can remember choosing this photo to display because it was the warmest among all the photos he had.
The doubt had come crashing over him, the wondering if his childhood had been as normal, as acceptable as he had always assumed it was. Everyone's life is like this, he had thought, on the nights when the loneliness crawled under his skin and squeezed at his heart. The realization, almost twenty years later, that not everyone's life had been like his was shocking. The inkling--the suspicion--that his childhood self hadn't smiled in photos because he wasn't happy was... Unacceptable.
It was an unacceptable conclusion to a problem he didn't even know he'd had, so he rejected it. He didn't think about it.
Sometimes, though, the photo would haunt him. He didn't dare take it down and put it away--that was like defeat, that was like giving into the suspicions, and the guilt he felt when he even considered this solution was overwhelming. Some nights every time he looked up he would see it, and on those nights sleep wasn't easy.
On those nights he craved distractions, craved hobbies and work to keep his mind busy. He could work until he was so tired that he couldn't see, and hope that when he woke up the haunting would be over.
Tonight, he could work on his overhaul of the ship's internal logging software, a project that was bigger than he had assumed initially because for all Tony could figure out, the ship had never had anything like this before. The automatic logs the ship recorded were rudimentary and mostly useless, indecipherable data and Tony had been working on a way to improve this almost since the moment he'd stepped on the ship. He was building a new program from the ground up, and it was challenging enough to keep him occupied and not thinking about anything else.
Tonight, though, the exhaustion wasn't coming. The ship had gone quiet hours ago and Anthony was starting to get twitchy at his console, still feeling wide awake but increasingly worn out in his mind.
He sat back and stretched, realizing it had been hours since he'd taken a break. It was almost 4:30 am now, and Tony realized the kitchen would be empty, so Anthony could go make himself a cup of tea and then come back and work until he fell asleep.
That decided, Tony got up and didn't bother changing; he was still in his uniform pants but he had stripped off his uniform top and was only wearing the thin undershirt he wore beneath it. He looked rumpled and tired, his hair a mess from running his hands through it while he was working, but everyone else was sure to be asleep and he'd only be gone a minute or two in any case. He grabbed a tablet so he could work while waiting for the water to boil and left his room, stepping lightly into the dark hallway and moving towards the kitchen.
Even though he'd moved it, from next to his bed to across the room, it still haunted him. Over the last month and a half the little niggling doubt has been building up inside him, a tiny seed cultivated by a handful of other instances, little things that Tony's supposed to know but doesn't. It's the picture, in particular, that's bothering him.
A week ago, he'd seen inside Roddie's room for the first time, and had glanced at some picture frames featuring a young, tiny Roddie and his family. At the time the picture had caught his attention, but he couldn't say why; he had stared at it until his attention was called away. It wasn't until he'd been reflecting on it, hours later, that he realized what had caught his attention: the smiles. Roddie and both of his mothers had been grinning widely, incandescently, like they were delighted to just be in each other's company. At the time it had sent him scrambling for the photo of his own family and he'd stared at it for a long time. His parents were both wearing small, polite smiles, their arms around each other without hugging and looking at the camera like it was an audience to please. Tony wasn't even touching them; he was off to the side, sitting on the floor, wearing a thick red knitted sweater and staring almost blankly at the camera. His expression was somber, polite and without calling attention to himself. He looked miserable. It was nothing like the huge, uncomplicated grins from Roddie's pictures and what's more is that Anthony can remember choosing this photo to display because it was the warmest among all the photos he had.
The doubt had come crashing over him, the wondering if his childhood had been as normal, as acceptable as he had always assumed it was. Everyone's life is like this, he had thought, on the nights when the loneliness crawled under his skin and squeezed at his heart. The realization, almost twenty years later, that not everyone's life had been like his was shocking. The inkling--the suspicion--that his childhood self hadn't smiled in photos because he wasn't happy was... Unacceptable.
It was an unacceptable conclusion to a problem he didn't even know he'd had, so he rejected it. He didn't think about it.
Sometimes, though, the photo would haunt him. He didn't dare take it down and put it away--that was like defeat, that was like giving into the suspicions, and the guilt he felt when he even considered this solution was overwhelming. Some nights every time he looked up he would see it, and on those nights sleep wasn't easy.
On those nights he craved distractions, craved hobbies and work to keep his mind busy. He could work until he was so tired that he couldn't see, and hope that when he woke up the haunting would be over.
Tonight, he could work on his overhaul of the ship's internal logging software, a project that was bigger than he had assumed initially because for all Tony could figure out, the ship had never had anything like this before. The automatic logs the ship recorded were rudimentary and mostly useless, indecipherable data and Tony had been working on a way to improve this almost since the moment he'd stepped on the ship. He was building a new program from the ground up, and it was challenging enough to keep him occupied and not thinking about anything else.
Tonight, though, the exhaustion wasn't coming. The ship had gone quiet hours ago and Anthony was starting to get twitchy at his console, still feeling wide awake but increasingly worn out in his mind.
He sat back and stretched, realizing it had been hours since he'd taken a break. It was almost 4:30 am now, and Tony realized the kitchen would be empty, so Anthony could go make himself a cup of tea and then come back and work until he fell asleep.
That decided, Tony got up and didn't bother changing; he was still in his uniform pants but he had stripped off his uniform top and was only wearing the thin undershirt he wore beneath it. He looked rumpled and tired, his hair a mess from running his hands through it while he was working, but everyone else was sure to be asleep and he'd only be gone a minute or two in any case. He grabbed a tablet so he could work while waiting for the water to boil and left his room, stepping lightly into the dark hallway and moving towards the kitchen.
22 ooo
He had been pondering whether or not to take another shot of whiskey when he heard footsteps approaching. Slowly, he lifts his head, and considers quickly trying to make himself look more presentable, but it's too late.
Re: 22 ooo
"Shit!" he swears, stumbling back a step, "You scared me!" he adds, needlessly. After taking a moment to get over the shock he takes in Roddie's appearance. He looks more unkempt than usual--actually, he looks like a mess. Tony glances between Roddie and the open bottle of whiskey and opens his mouth to ask if Roddie's okay, and then closes it.
Obviously Roddie is not okay. You do not sit up at 4am if you're okay. Tony would know. Instead, he says:
"Sorry, I didn't think anyone was awake. I didn't mean to disturb you." and turns to leave.
Re: 22 ooo
When Tony turns to leave, however, he feels a twinge of sadness. The next words out of his mouth are impulsive, but he knows he needs someone with him right now.
"No, wait," he says, and his voice breaks a little. He hadn't realized that he wasn't quite done crying. "Shit. Can you stay here?"
Re: 22 ooo
Tony bows his head, clutches his tablet close to his chest, and reins himself in. Roddie isn't asking for Tony to take the weight of the world off his shoulders. Roddie's just asking him to stay, and for anyone else Tony would suspect a million ulterior motives and a million more reasons it will go foul, but with Roddie he just... Doesn't.
Roddie's special. Tony's always known that.
As Tony turns back, nodding his head, he wonders if this is what real trust feels like, "Yeah. I can stay."
Tony drags a stool over next to Roddie's, setting his tablet on the table and then turning to fill the electric kettle and turn it on. When he sits, his elbow nudges against Roddie's and for once he leaves it there, too tired to worry about enjoying Roddie's physical proximity. He thinks about asking Roddie if he wants to talk, but after a moment realizes that he isn't too far behind from Roddie's state, and he doesn't want to talk, so he keeps his mouth shut. After a moment of silence, Tony flipped his tablet over and turned it on, turning his attention back to his work.
Re: 22 ooo
"You want some of this? You look like you could use a little." he asks, shaking the bottle at him. Not waiting for a response, he pushes the bottle in his direction.
"What're you working on?"
Re: 22 ooo
"Ah... New automatic logging software for your ship. You don't have any," he says, tilting his head to slant a glance over at Roddie and gauge his reaction. He gets distracted by the fall of Roddie's hair and the deep shadows under his eyes. This feels dangerous, because Tony is too exhausted to keep his usual distance and Roddie is still appealing like this.
Tony wants to comfort him, wants to help him, wants to see the tension in his eyes fade; he wants too much so he looks back down at his tablet instead.
Re: 22 ooo
"You don't drink I guess? Figures," he says, pulling the bottle back over to his side of the table. "Or maybe," he goes on, ribbing him a little, "you only drink finely aged wine from your family's vineyard?" For a moment he imagines Tony standing stiffly off to the side at a high society wine tasting party, and he laughs a little at the image.
Re: 22 ooo
A small, shivering laugh bubbles up out of Tony's throat and he surprises himself with how easily he voices it.
"Yeah," Tony says, one corner of his mouth turned up, "I only drink the best."
Re: 22 ooo
He thinks about asking what he's doing up, but he decides he can pretty much guess. Talking about it might make him feel worse, and he really doesn't want that little smile to fade.
"So what's this program of yours do exactly?" he asks instead, kicking Tony's foot lightly under the table.
Re: 22 ooo
"It records information from your ships systems--like the warp core, atmosphere, life support, computer systems and fuel usage--all of those things that you don't really see. It can record things like time of take off and time of landing and fuel usage and--well. All of those boring details that nobody really wants to pay attention to," he pauses, glancing up at Roddie with another small smile, then looking back down at his tablet and pulling up a half-finished link to the fuel gauges. It showed a list of dates, every ten minutes for the last couple of days, and a steadily decreasing number indicating the fuel level. He scrolls through a few pages of the data.
"But you can analyze this data to find irregularities or inefficiencies and it could help you find a problem before it, you know," Tony shrugs and then makes a big exploding gesture, "And it has other uses too. Software like this is pretty standard in modern ships but--er--not that your ship isn't--" Tony winces, regretting letting his mouth get away with him.
Re: 22 ooo
He came back to attention when he realized Tony had accidentally insulted his ship, and was now sheepishly trying to retract his statement.
"Oh, okay, I see how it is," Roddie laughs, "She's not advanced enough for you, huh? Sorry I don't have it set up to automatically record every time someone flushes the toilet."
He stretches, and as his arms are on the way down, he rests one casually and unthinkingly on the back of Tony's chair.
Re: 22 ooo
"Actually," Tony said, light in his eyes as he realized Roddie was going to make fun of him for saying this, "Monitoring the water systems on a ship like this is extremely important." He leans back and realizes with a shiver that he can feel the line of Roddie's arm across his back, even through his light undershirt. Warmth blossoms in his chest at the touch, so casual and uncomplicated yet undeniably intimate--and just as Tony feels his face heat up the kettle behind him lets out a shrill whistle.
Tony had all but forgotten about the tea, and hadn't even set out a cup and tea bag, and it was something of a relief to lean away from Roddie's arm and get up, as casually as he could manage, busying himself with taking down a mug and a small box of tea bags he'd brought from his home. He was almost out.
"Tea?" Tony asks, figuring he might as well even though Roddie already has a drink.
Re: 22 ooo
"Sure," he says, still with laughter in his voice at Tony's insistence that keeping track of toilet flushes was vital to the ship's ability to function. He hadn't had tea since he was a kid, and he had remembered not being particularly fond of it, but he figured if Tony sucked it down all the time it must not be so bad. He takes his eyes off of Tony's face momentarily and notices his box of tea bags is nearly empty.
"We can stop and get more of those if you want," he says, nodding at the box, "I mean, I don't know where you get that brand, but we can get you some kinda tea, at least."
Re: 22 ooo
"I got this one at a little boutique near my apartment," Tony says, neglecting to mention the price tag on the little box but he thinks the name artisan premium blended tea implies it for him, "So I don't think we'll be able to pick up a box at the next space station." Tony smiles a little, picking up both mugs and placing the one with more sugar in front of Roddie, "But yes, I would appreciate getting more when I've run out." Tony sits down, nudging his tablet out of the way so he can wrap both hands around the warm mug. Roddie's arm is still across the back of his chair but Tony doesn't think about it, leans forward to put his nose in his mug and breath deeply, his eyes fluttering shut as he enjoys the warm, fragrant steam.
"It's... comforting, for me." He's not sure why he felt compelled to share that and he hides his flush in his cup, tilting the mug back to take a long sip.
Re: 22 ooo
"Remind you of home?" he asks, "The good parts of home, I mean, not the stuff with your p- well, the stressful stuff, you know."
Praying that he hadn't drunkenly taken this conversation in an unpleasant direction, he quickly lifts the mug of tea to his mouth, knocking it against his teeth as he takes a big gulp.
It is the most disgusting thing he's ever tasted. His face sours and he coughs, slowly spitting half of the mouthful back into the glass.
Re: 22 ooo
"Yes, well," Tony starts to explain that he'd been making himself cups of tea since before he could remember, but he stops when Roddie coughs and spits tea all over. At first he thinks it might be too hot, but his cup is hot but not scalding, and then he takes note of Roddie's disgusted expression.
Tony can't help his indulgent smile, even if Roddie had wasted one of Tony's favorite tea bags.
"You didn't have to take a cup if you don't like tea," Tony says, reaching behind him for a spare towel on the counter nearby and handing it over.
Re: 22 ooo
"I didn't know I didn't like tea," he says once the coughing has subsided, "You didn't tell me it tasted like dog pee. That's like -- that's like what I'd imagine drinking grass would taste like."
Despite his complaints, he lifts the mug up to his lips again and takes another drink, as if he expects the second drink he takes to taste different. It doesn't.
"Ugh!" he chokes, "How do you drink this stuff?" Still, he doesn't put the mug down. Instead, he reaches for the bottle of whiskey on the table and pours some of it into the glass, and tries to take another drink. He shivers and wretches.
"Oh my god, it's even worse now," he says, eyes twitching as he takes another drink. "Oh my god, Tony, this is the worst thing I've ever had in my life."
Re: 22 ooo
His laughter now is less weak and shivering now, less like he's on the verge of tears and more like real, uncomplicated, happy laughter.
"So stop drinking it!" Tony insists, grinning as he reaches out and covers Roddie's mug with his hand, "There's a very simple solution to this problem!"
Re: 22 ooo
"God damn-- aaugh, how do you drink this?"
Re: 22 ooo
"Honestly, I'm more offended that you keep calling it shit than by you wasting it," Tony says, his cheeks starting to hurt from smiling so hard, "And you already knew everything I enjoy is terrible and you hate it." Tony abruptly realizes that Roddie's holding his hand, and Tony can't jerk away from the hold without calling attention to it and ending this happy little moment they're sharing. Roddie's fingers are warm and calloused, his palm is wider than Tony's and it fits easily over his fingers, though Tony's fingers are longer and more slender. Tony swallows, hopes Roddie doesn't notice his blush, and tries to ignore it.
Re: 22 ooo
He hasn't let go of Tony's hand yet, though he isn't holding him away at arm's length any longer. He rests his elbow on the table and taps his chin.
"I don't like is your hard-on for following the alliance's rulebook to the letter and I don't like tea. But other than that, you've got pretty solid taste I think. Just-" he takes another drink, "this fucking tea is fucking horrible."
Re: 22 ooo
Tony gently pulls his hand out of Roddie's. He clears his throat, twisting his chair back towards the table and pulling his tablet back towards him.
"Well, that's very reassuring, thank you," Tony says, going for offhanded but it comes out too soft, too affectionate. He takes a sip of his tea, tapping a few more notes into the program.
Re: 22 ooo
"Hey," he says, after a few minutes of sitting in comfortable, contented silence, "thanks for staying. If you hadn't come in, I don't know what I would've ended up- I mean, I just appreciate it."
He finds himself thinking again how glad he is that it was Tony, and not anyone of the rest of the crew, who was here with him right now. He realizes it wasn't, as he initially thought, only that he was afraid of the reaction the others would have.
He isn't just glad to have Tony here because the alternatives (as much as he loves them) would be worse; he's glad to have Tony here because, in spite of the fact that they've been at each other's throats over messy work areas and dress code violations, he trusts him, deeply, and with this epiphany he finally decides to acknowledge the feeling that had been growing in the pit of his stomach.
He thinks he might really like him.
"You're uh... you're a good friend. I'm glad to have you around."
Re: 22 ooo
Tony can't get ahold of himself in the aftermath of Roddie's words, can't smother the fluttering in his gut and can't stop staring wide-eyed at him. His tablet slips in his fingers and then falls down on the table, too loud and Tony makes a small high-pitched noise and fumbles for it. He puts his palm flat on the table and stares at it, taking a deep breath.
"Thanks," Tony says, his voice strangled and hoarse.
Re: 22 ooo
Their faces are so close that he can feel the heat coming off of him. He inches even closer, nearly touching his mouth to Tony's, but changes his course at the last minute, brushing his lips against the side of Tony's face instead as he wraps his arms around his shoulders. He wraps his arms around his shoulders and squeezes him briefly, before pulling back and resting his head back down on the table.
He closes his eyes and is out cold in seconds flat.
Re: 22 ooo
After a moment it clicks and Tony gasps sharply. He stares back into Roddie's eyes, cloudy and fogged with alcohol, and the moment seems to stretch on forever as Roddie inches forward. Tony's breath is caught in his throat and he's frozen in place, and then a small, desperate part of him thinks please. He's bracing himself for a kiss when Roddie changes course, and still his mouth sears a line across Tony's cheek and his arms around Tony's shoulders make him shake.
A moment later it's over, and Roddie's collapsed on the table, and Tony shudders and gasps in a breath.
"R-Roddie?" Tony says, his voice shivering and when he touches his fingertips to Roddie's shoulder the captain lets out a magnificent snore. Tony feels exhausted down to his bones suddenly, the immensity of what had almost just happened comes down on his shoulders and Tony sags under the weight of it. He tries to convince himself that he's glad it didn't actually happen, because it's a colossal bad idea and Roddie's drunk, but the excuses sound hollow even in his own mind.
He's not sure how long he sits there, staring at Roddie and shaking with how desperate he'd been to get a kiss from Roddie. When he can trust his legs to hold his weight he gathers up the empty mugs and puts them in the sink, then he picks up his tablet and leaves the room.
He pauses in the doorway and looks back, frowning at Roddie and then sighing to himself.
Boscha won't enjoy being woken up, but it's not like Tony can carry him back to his bed on his own.