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The first time Butch pushed him away, he didn’t quite know what to do. Reginald had always prided himself on his ability to judge a situation. He had always been damn good at reading people. Excellent at it. He’d been an infuriatingly perceptive child and had relished every second of it. Yet, he was completely blindsided by the hand that suddenly pressed against his chest full force, accompanied by a sudden absence of heat and weight on his lap.
What had gone wrong? One moment, he’d had a very happy Butch Flowers pressed against him, biting his lips and pulling his hair. The next moment, nothing. An empty patch of air that absolutely should not have been empty. It was a physical impossibility to hold in the whine of disappointment as he frowned at the thoroughly respectable two feet of space that was now between them.
What was worse than the sudden space between them was the fact that Butch was smiling. His eyes were sparkling and dark, his lips swollen, yet still fucking smiling. Why was he smiling? What was there to smile about? If Reginald had done something so wrong that it had warranted leaping off him, why the hell would Butch still be smiling?
“Don’t pout.” chided the still positively beaming Freelancer. “You’re not nearly as pretty when you pout. Being happy is so much better that being sullen.”
Leave it to Butch to give him a lecture rather than an expiation. “Forgive me.” he sighed, still refusing to smile. He wasn’t going to give up without a fight. No sir. “But what exactly did I miss? What invisible line did I just cross?”
Butch shook his head before reaching out with both hands to thread their fingers together. “You wandered.” he sighed, his smile flickering for a moment before returning with full force. “You’ve got to watch your silly hands, Reggie. They’re gonna get you into trouble.”
“My…hands?” Reginald replied, thoroughly unimpressed.
“Your hands. Yup yup yup.” Taking a step back, Butch gestured toward himself with a grand sweep of his hand. “Didn’t your mommy ever teach you about private parts? Somebody must have. If you need a lesson I’d be happy to teach you.”
Reginald found himself at an extremely frustrating loss for words. Private parts? He was really being lectured on private parts? Was that the issue? Had his hands wandered a little too far south? That couldn’t be right…Butch had already been in his lap. That counted as an a-okay didn’t it? Of course it did. What was a little butt touching when tongues were already in mouths that weren’t their own?
When Reginald finally came out of his thoughts, it was to realize that Butch had taken his silence as a go ahead to do some teaching. He’d tuned in just in time for “This is my no no square.” and that was more than enough to get him shaking his head and covering his ears.
“Please do not teach me about the birds and the bees, mate.” he pleaded, making Butch giggle.
“I just want to make sure we’re crystal clear.” Butch grinned, climbing easily back onto Reginald’s lap with a small sigh. “Waist up only. Okie dokie?”
“Waist up only.” Reginald repeated flatly. “But…”
“No buts.”
“Right. I’m just confused. I thought…”
“That we were going to have sex?”
Why did it make him feel even worse hearing how close Butch was to laughing? Butch really thought it was funny? They were alone, at night, in his private room, in his bed, on top of each other, kissing hard enough to get Butch making the most amazing noises, his fingers in Butch’s hair that had never once been regulation, pulling gently. Was that not a perfect preface to sex? “Well…yes….I thought we were going to have sex.” he admitted, looking away from the man in his lap and frowning, dreading what exactly Butch would say to him.
“Oh. Well, you thought wrong.” Butch said simply, still sounding bright as could be. “I don’t want to have sex with you. Not yet anyway.” After a brief pause, he giggled and shook his head. “Nope, let me change that. I totally want to have sex with you. A whole lot. But we’re not going to have sex. Not just for the hell of it, anyway.”
“What’s wrong with having sex for the hell of it?” Reginald pouted, feeling more confused by the second. “If you want to have sex, and the person you want to have sex with also wants to have sex with you…I fail to see a problem.“ Were they really having this talk? The words felt so awkward in his mouth. Never had he needed to have a discussion about sex in order to have it. Not like this. When? Where? Now? Here? Yes. That seemed to be about as much as was needed in his experience.
“Oh, Reggie. You’re so simple.” Butch cooed, shaking his head and sounding every bit the elementary school teacher trying to explain basic manners to a child. “Sex is more than that. I think so anyway. And because I think so, you’re going to have to deal with it. Because I’m worth it.”
And that was the end of that conversation. Reginald had no interest in arguing or pushing the matter. What kind of gentleman would he be if he tried to start a fight? Not any kind of gentleman at all. He didn’t ask how long exactly he’d have to wait. He didn’t ask what exactly he had to do to cross whatever invisible line Butch had drawn. Even though both questions were buzzing around his head. Agent Florida dealt in information and Reginald knew he wouldn’t be getting any until the time was right. Whatever that meant.
***
There were many things that Reginald didn’t quite understand about Butch, and he’d long since come to terms with the fact that he probably never would. Strangest of all of these mysteries was the fact that rules never seemed to apply when Butch Flowers was concerned. Reginald was positive that there was an entire chapter in the massive collection of rules that Freelancers were meant to follow, devoted only to the many ways in which the Freelancers were not allowed to touch one another.
There were rules about how close they could be to each other in non-combat or training situations. There were rules about what constituted “fraternization” and no stone was left unturned when it came to banning every conceivable way this horrible attachment could occur. Now, Reginald was no fool. He understood full well that everyone aboard the Mother of Invention, or at least almost everyone, had someone, or many someones to “fraternize” with. That being said, they were all reasonably sneaky about it.
Everyone was afraid of getting caught. Everyone except Butch god damn Flowers. Butch Flowers, who had whispered his name into Reginald’s ear the first time they’d kissed. Butch Flowers, who sat on his lap in the mess in front of everyone, who curled up against him on movie nights, who wandered into his room at all hours of the day and night without a single care, who never cut his hair, who painted his nails, who never seemed to care even a little bit about the rules. Not when he could simply grin and shrug and ignore them.
That might have been his favorite part of being so close to Butch. If he was with Butch, rules didn’t apply to him either. While everyone else was sneaking around, he was playing with Butch’s hair in the rec room. While supply closet doors were mysteriously locked, Butch was attempting to braid his mustache and laughing every time he sneezed. Butch ignored irritated stares and awkward coughs and never got tired of wrapping his arms around him and holding on tight. Reginald had far too much fun lording it over the rest of the Freelancers. If they were allowed to make fun of his age, he was allowed to kiss his boyfriend anywhere he pleased.
It had always been this way. When Agent Florida had been added to the group, there had only been a small handful of them, and even on his very first day, he was breaking rules as though they had never been there in the first place. Two hours after his very first sparring match, Florida could be found stealing food rations to happily bake chocolate chip cookies with no other explanation other than “Don’t you just love fresh baked cookies? I’ve haven’t been here for very long and I already miss them. You’re welcome to some! I love sharing!” and that was that. They ate cookies. Never once did anyone reprimand him for it.
Never once did anyone reprimand him for the yarn and knitting needles that he’d smuggled onto the Mother of Invention. Nor did anyone reprimand him for his hair that he simply refused to cut, instead keeping it in complicated braids that fit inside his helmet. When it was out of the braids, it was down to his back and never once had any of them ever seen a single knot in it. He never got in trouble for failing to sign up for sparring matches. Most recently, he never got in trouble for Reginald.
Reginald had asked him only once why this was, and Butch had giggled for an entire minute before leaning close enough to whisper in his ear. “What could they possibly do to me? I know all the secrets. They need little ‘ol me.” Reginald had never asked what that meant. He was sure Butch wouldn’t have told him, and he wasn’t sure he even wanted to know.
At the end of the day, it didn’t matter. As long as they could continue on their merry way, without interruption. It was easy to be with Butch. It was easier than anything Reginald had ever done in his life. Easier than sniper rifles. Easier than knock knock jokes. Easier than breathing.
***
Now, he wasn’t sure if it was as easy. Butch still laughed at his jokes. Butch still allowed him to play with his hair. Butch still toyed with his mustache and curled up in his lap and made the best noises in the world when they kissed. And yet…it still felt a little more challenging. Now there was a worry in his mind. His hands felt like they were made of iron, clumsy and heavy, and he was constantly aware of them. He was always in search of that invisible line that started somewhere on Butch’s hips. It was hard to relax when the mind was still buzzing with questions. Of course, Butch was bound to notice at some point.
It was always a treat when Butch wandered into his room after hours. Simply opened the door without announcement and slipped in wordlessly. Normally, it was after missions. Butch always wanted to get a look at cuts and bruises for himself, and always wanted Reginald to kiss his own. It was sweet really. Most of Butch Flower was sweet. He was pretty sure Butch was more than half made of sugar. This night was no exception to this rule. Reginald was bone tired, sore from hours and hours of utter stillness. His shoulders ached. No sooner had he sat down on his bunk with a heavy groan, than Butch slipped into his room, arms crossed over his chest.
With a small, worried sigh, he crossed the room and sat down beside Reginald, unfolding his arms to run his hands across broad shoulders. “No injuries?” he asked quietly, still exploring with curious fingertips. Reginald shook his head, and easily lifted Butch into his lap. Sometimes it surprised him, how someone so deadly could also be so light and lithe. Not this time. This time, he just wanted to get as close to Butch as possible, well, as close as Butch would allow.
And now that that thought was in his head, it demanded most of his attention. All he had wanted to do was kiss the worry off of Butch’s lips, and he absolutely was determined to give it a shot, but now…now there was a worry of his own that wanted his attention. Still, he couldn’t deny that Butch’s lips were still too soft to be real, his hair just as soft, his fingers still exploring, now more gentle rather than searching. And yet…
“You’re mad at me, Reggie.” he sighed against Reginald’s lips, pulling away to reveal a very rare site. A frown. “Why are you mad at me?”
“I’m not. I’m not mad at you, mate.” Reginald replied, a frown of his own spreading from his lips to the lines of his forehead.
“You’re acting different. Don’t lie to me. I hate being lied to. You know that. I hate it, Reggie.”
He groaned and shook his head. He absolutely didn’t want to have this conversation with Butch. The only outcome was him sounding like an asshole and he knew it full well. “Butch.” he breathed, pressing his face into the crook of that perfect neck. “I’m not mad at you. I’m just a prick. That’s not your fault.”
“And what makes you a prick?” Butch pressed, his fingers winding their way through Reginald’s hair and stroking slowly. “That’s not a very nice thing to call yourself.”
Reginald almost laughed. What an odd thing to say. Then again, Butch was an odd creature. “I’ve just been…thinking…about what you said…about…you know…sex. I’ve been worried about it.” That wasn’t right. That wasn’t the right way to phrase it.
“Oh.” Butch replied. Just that. Oh. It made Reginald’s stomach drop. “Does it bother you so much?”
“It’s just that I don’t understand. I’m like you, mate. I don’t like not having all the answers. It bothers me.” Maybe that was a better way of phrasing the worry that was something like static in his mind. “I don’t understand your reasoning…not that you’re not…I mean…I don’t mind if you don’t want to have sex with me…I just want to know why.” Yup. He sounded like an ass. A total and complete ass. Wonderful. Brilliant. Perfect. Peachy. Lovely.
“Reggie. You are the silliest.” Butch said, shaking his head, though his fingers continued their petting. It gave Reginald just a little bit of hope. “Why didn’t you just say something earlier? You would rather me worry about what your problem was for a good long time?”
“No! I-“
“Hush. Daddy’s talking.” Butch interrupted. “Now, I’m going to explain it to you, because I love you. And if my Reggie needs to know why he’s not allowed in my pants to be happy, then I will tell him.” he was giggling again and Reginald almost hated him for it. Almost. “Now, when I was little, I had very respectable parents with lots of rules and morals and all of that wonderful stuff.”
He was being given a life story? Not once had Butch ever told him about his life before the military. He’d been given little hints, but never a story. Butch had been open about his name, but not much else. That was something Reginald had never pressed, and it hadn’t bothered him. The past didn’t matter. Only the present. This sudden honesty surprised him.
“And they taught me rights and wrongs, and how to grow up to be a respectable adult myself. Now…I haven’t followed almost any of those rules in my adult life. I’ve killed people, I’ve lied, I’ve had boyfriends,” a tug at Reginald’s hair at this, and a laugh “I haven’t done right by them at all. Not even a little bit. But…one of the rules they had, that they were very strict about, is one that I can follow pretty easily. It doesn’t interfere with my work, and if it does with my relationships, then those relationships aren’t worth having anyway. And I was thinking, I should keep something from when I was little, because I don’t ever want to not be me. So, why not follow just one little rule? One that’s important to me as well as my parents. And that rule was, that sex is important, and special, and only for…you know…married couples. And if you laugh I’m going to push you off this bed because I think it’s a cute idea. I think it’s sweet. Waiting for someone you want to spend your whole life with and making those promises and then sharing something so…intimate. So no sex for you, Reggie, because, as I’ve told you before, I’m worth waiting for.”
Well, who was he to argue with that? It was perfectly valid. Even if he would have to deal with a horrible case of blueballs. Butch was right. He was worth it. “Knock knock.” he smiled after a moment, lifting up his head to blink tired, though much happier eyes at his favorite Freelancer.
“Who’s there?” Butch asked immediately. That was another one of Reginald’s favorite things about him. Always ready for a good knock knock joke. The only person on this ship who had a good sense of humor.
“Butch.”
“Butch who?”
“Butch your arms around me.” Reginald grinned, wiggling his mustache suggestively and arching an eyebrow.
Not failing to disappoint, Butch burst out laughing, “You’re too silly.” he snorted, still doing as requested and wrapping his arms happily around Reginald. “Tomorrow, I’m going to make you cookies.”
“I look forward to it.” Reginald said, pressing a kiss to the tip of Butch’s noes. There was nothing he looked forward to more than Butch’s stolen ration cookies, and maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t have to share them.