Work Text:
Tech watches you, or at least what he can see of you peeking out of the compartment.
He is pleased with how quickly you learned the inner workings of the ship, that wiring and welding, conduits and ducts were just as interesting to you as terminals and computers, which were already your wheelhouse. Under his tutelage, you had spent a lot of time studying the exposed insides of the ship, stopping his explanations to engage in distracting activities less often than he would have predicted. He thinks you have actually been enjoying yourself.
You’re under the ship now, double checking a repair before you call him over to double double check. It has been awhile since he’s needed to correct you.
You are singing. He catches snippets of words, but they are in a language he does not know. He considers getting his helmet to translate, but instead leans back and listens. Now that you are together so often, he realizes you must sing to yourself all the time. He doubts you know you are doing it.
If they are on planet, he no longer sleeps anywhere but with you. They are often with him, but sometimes he wants you to himself, more than he used to. He likes to fall asleep and wake up next to you, and he never could have predicted this when you found him in the bar.
He does not think you know that the others were there that night as well. That no one had ever approached him the way you did, confident and wanting.
When you took him upstairs, neither of you thought it would be more than a fuck, and look at you now.
Your feet are tapping to the rhythm in your mind, the rise and fall of notes drifting out to him. He thinks of the noises you make in your most intimate moments, a different kind of music. He likes to be responsible for you making them, those little sounds of pleasure and frustration. He feels a rising heat in his body, tempting him to crawl under to the compartment where you are and to coax those noises from you. He restrains himself.
As if on cue, you call him. “Okay, Tech. Come check.” He slides next to you, trying to stay focused on your work. A quick glance is enough for him to know that you did it all correctly.
“Yes, this is perfect.”
“Perfect? Mmmm…what praise!” you laugh.
Has your laugh always been so musical, he wonders. He glances at you, but you are not looking at him.
You replace the panel and climb out into the open air. He follows you. You stand, taking your gloves off, brushing your hair out of your face, and he’s next to you, pulling you against him and capturing your lips.
That need that he has been feeling suddenly blossoms, overwhelming him. His body is hot and not just with lust. It is burning desire and want, but for you. The whole of you. You offer him so much more than he ever expected. You give them so much more than they could ever return. He remembers when Wrecker had nightmares, and now they are just dreams. He remembers when Crosshair was a moving ball of angry energy, and now he has calmed. He remembers when Hunter could not focus on any one thing, flitting from situation to situation, and now he is happy just to be.
He remembers when he was often alone even when surrounded by other people. He never feels alone with you.
He lifts you and carries you up the stairs onto the ship, then sits with you in his lap in the pilot’s chair.
“Remember,” you laugh a little, arm around his neck. “Remember when you left me naked on this floor, right there, while you fixed that console?”
“I did not anticipate that we would establish a long-term relationship.”
He studies you, runs his fingers through your hair as he considers what he wants to say.
“I have never…wanted…” he struggles for the right words, knowing they are all wrong, that they are not enough for this heat that is consuming him. “I have never…needed…someone the way I…the way I need you.”
He watches your face, studying you for any hint of a negative reaction. You give him none.
“I’ve always wanted you, and…and I need you, too,” you answer, a slight blush rises in your cheeks.
He has to have you, and it is a desperate requirement that is beyond sex, beyond this physical joining of your bodies, but it is all he knows. He pulls you tight against him and feels your arms wrap around him. He surrenders into this moment, luxuriates in it.
And then you are kissing again and clothing is being pulled off and, when you sink down onto him, he is reminded that he will never have enough of you, even as you pour yourself into him. He wishes he could find the right words or the right action or whatever it is that would convey all of this to you, but he remains at a loss.
All he can do is watch you and revel in you and be happy and thankful that you are here, and how could he be selfish and not want to share you when you bring them so much joy? When they bring you joy.
Unbidden, a thought comes to his mind, a phrase he has heard before but never quite understood, deciding it was just a fanciful thing that people might say.
He holds you as you chase your orgasm, a hand on your hip, the other cupping your cheek, his thumb stroking your lips. All of you, every part of you, right now, he wants it all to be his, the way you climax for him, your shuddering pleasure his triumph. He knows none of the others can give you this the way he does. Because—he realizes it as his own orgasm begins building—you hold something back from them, a part of you that has only ever been for him. You always have.
His body trembles as he spills inside you. As you stroke his face, kissing him, covering him in your happiness. You captivate him, he is yours, and he has never been anyone’s. Not like this. Overcome, you both slide to the floor, unable to cross even the short distance to the bunks. He makes sure you lie on top of him, absorbing the cold and discomfort for you.
*
Your head is on his shoulder, your body exhausted and bordering on sleep, not caring in the least that the floor of the ship is uncomfortable for both of you.
“I think I love you.” The words come unbidden into your hazy mind.
No, absolutely not, you think, pushing them aside as best you can.
“I…I think I am in love with you.”
You open your eyes. You hadn’t thought those words. He had said them. Tech had said them. Out loud. To you.
“You do not need to reciprocate these feelings for our relationship to continue.”
Blindly you reach up to press two fingers to his lips.
“I love you, too.”
*
Making love. It is the thought, the idea, that had sprung into Tech’s mind. He had heard sex referred to as “love making”, but he had never understood it until now. This warmth, this feeling that has been consuming him. This is being in love. Not the love he feels for the others. Not an abstract idea. It is something almost palpable, he feels it so strongly and deeply.
“I think I love you. I think I am in love with you,” he says, meaning it, unsure of what consequences there might be for having said it.
“I love you, too,” you say back to him.
You lie together a little longer before he rouses you both to use the ‘fresher. He goes first and, while you are in the sonic, he guides the ship out of the yard and into the sky. You sit in the co-pilot’s seat. He doesn’t leave the atmosphere, and you watch the light fade as the suns set behind you. Finally, you touch down in a clearing. You smile. It’s beautiful even without the falling stars.
He turns to you, takes your hand, leads you up the ladder and to the top of the ship. You sit in his arms as you watch the stars appear in the sky.
“I think this is where…I think this was the first time we made love.” The phrase feels strange in his mouth but he also knows it is correct. You snuggle into him, your heart overflowing. “I just did not know it at the time.”
*
You lie on top of the ship, fully clothed, comfortable, content, until he takes a deep breath and you know by the way he’s holding himself that he’s preparing. He shifts you so your head rests on his chest.
“I realize that, effectively, this does not change your relationship with any of us.”
You let out a soft sigh, happy that this is not in dispute.
“But I…process my emotions differently, and it is important to me…that you understand the depth of my feelings…so that you do not think I care for you any less than the others.” He hesitates, wanting his words to be precise.
“My…feelings—my…love…for you is different from what I have experienced previously.” He pauses. “It is intense and intoxicating and…confusing. I had difficulty discerning it. But I have had these feelings—this special affinity for you—for some time.” His fingers stroke through your hair. “Upon reflection…it is clear that Wrecker harbors similar emotions. The other two are more difficult to parse.”
You smile to yourself, then sit up to look at him.
“Say it,” you whisper.
He studies you then glances to the side, removes his goggles, and looks back.
“No one has ever made me feel this way.” His hand reaches up and his thumb caresses your cheek, your lips. “I have never needed anyone the way I need you.”
Your heart swells, emotions finally allowed to pour over, to have a name. You lean forward to kiss him.
“I love you,” he says, looking into your eyes.
“I love you, too, Tech.” Then you show each other the meaning of those words, for the second time on top of the ship.