Chapter Text
Today fucking sucked. Tucker had woken before dawn to hack up a lung, except nothing would come loose from his chest. So he stayed in bed under his warm covers, and listened to Caboose snoring in the next room. It certainly didn’t help that the air in the room didn’t want to let him breathe comfortably. Yet with all of this warmth, he was still freezing.
He must have dozed off again, because he started when the covers were pulled away from his face. He finally focused on the concerned blue eyes of Caboose above him. “Tucker? Are you okay? I heard you coughing. Church says coughing is bad, and so I brought you water.”
Tucker couldn’t help but smile as he let his eyes dart to the water in Caboose’s hands, held like a toddler. Kid’s heart was in the right place. “Thanks, bud.” He winced at his voice, which had come out as more of a rasp than anything, and Caboose put the water in his hands.
“Drink this, stupid Tucker. I am going to get Agent Washington.” He was up and out of the room before Tucker could clear his throat enough to tell him not to bother with Wash. He would be doing another leg day anyway. Maybe not as harsh, but still.
Tucker sighed, coughed, and sipped the water. Of course, after he’d smelled it to make sure it wasn’t something else. This was Caboose after all. Caboose always managed to find a way to fuck something up.
That’s how he would pass the time until Wash came to wake him. He’d play ‘How Many Times Caboose Done Fucked Up.’ First up: when Caboose managed to let Donut get their flag way back in Blood Gulch. He’d joined the fucking Blue Army for fuck’s sake. You’d think he’d realize the other guy wore fucking red. Then of course the obvious: shooting Church with the goddamn tank .
Tucker made himself more comfortable in his bed, curling up into a ball with his head uncovered for the fresh air because when he tried the covers over his head , he just couldn’t breathe.
He couldn’t remember what woke him next, be it the cool hand on his cheek, Caboose chattering in the hallway, or the coughing that shook his shoulders yet didn’t seem to satisfy that odd feeling in his chest that made him want to cough harder. So he did. (It’s not like his fucking lungs were giving him much choice.) By the time he could catch his breath and open his eyes, there were several people in his room. He saw Wash right away, hovering over him, one hand on his shoulder, the other on Tucker’s back, since he was on his side. Caboose was clutching another glass of water behind Wash, eyes wide and mouth pressed into a concerned line. Behind him was Dr. Grey , helmet still on and a utilitarian bag over her shoulder. Fucking Palomo was in the hall with Grif keeping him from entering like a not so silent sentinel. He could hear the occasional swear from him.
“Well now,” Grey ’s chipper voice rang through the room, and Tucker had to fight not to cringe, though he did let his eyes fall shut again. When Grey next spoke, her voice was softer, and he had a feeling Wash had given her a look, but he didn’t want to open his eyes again. “I think I’ve heard what I need to hear, but to be safe, I’m going to have to look at you, Mr. Tucker. “ There was the hiss of a helmet releasing, and Wash’s hand moved across his back as he struggled not to cough. “Easy, I didn’t bring the scalpels or anything. I just want to…” There was a hum as her scanner activated, and there was no way Tucker was opening his eyes now. Just thinking about that bright light hurt. He heard Grey mumble to herself, and then something cold was on his back. He jumped and coughed harshly, and glared at the insane doctor once his eyes were open again. She was unapologetic. “You’re congested, your blood pressure is up, and you’re running a fever. Not to mention that cough. Best thing is to let you run through a course of antibiotics and something to stop the coughing and knock you out .”
Tucker groaned. “No, I’ve got-” His voice gave out there, and Caboose came up with the water then. Tucker slapped away Wash’s hands and sat up on his own to take it and drink from it.
Of course, Wash took this time to interrupt what he wanted to say. “Tucker, you can’t talk loudly enough to form a single sentence, and you want to go and train? Are you sure that fever isn’t higher?” Wash’s hand was on his head again, blond brow furrowed as he looked up at the doctor.
Tucker glared and huffed in frustration. “Fuck you,” he hissed as loudly as he dared, especially since he was getting that feeling in the back of his throat again. Shallow breaths it was then. Wash held his hands up in mock surrender.
Doctor Grey spoke up once more. “Now you listen. You need to take it easy and rest. That means no training, no running, no anything other than getting up to walk to get food or go to the bathroom, and I making myself clear?” Her voice was bright, but as always with her, there was steel behind the tone.
Sure, Doctor, whatever you say , Tucker thought to himself, flopping back onto the bed, a cough knocked loose as he hit. That didn’t mean when he was alone and finally on whatever drugs she was going to give him that he wasn’t just going to do what he wanted anyway. He just didn’t have to get his ass caught. He’d already spent too much time on his ass after he’d gotten fucking stabbed thank you very fucking much. So he waved his hand above his head and hoped his message of ‘whatever, you dumb assholes’ got through.
Clearly it did, because Wash said, “Yeah, you going down without a fight? Bullshit.” Tucker turned his head so he could level what he could only hope was a fierce glare, because in the next moment he sneezed twice, one right after another. He hoped it got on Wash. “Yeah, okay.” He gave Tucker an unimpressed look and turned to Doctor Grey . “You just let me know what he needs to take and when Doctor. I’ll make sure it happens. And if I can’t, I’ll make sure someone else will.” Tucker didn’t really care at that point, because he’d let his eyes slide shut again. Fuck this being tired shit. It was interfering with his fucking plans. The voices drifted away from him, and Tucker slipped into sleep far easier than he thought he’d be able to.
--
The next time Tucker woke, it wasn’t Wash by his bed, and what he could see of the light seemed dimmer. Carolina sat there reading over reports that Kimball had given her, seemingly unconcerned with the fact that Tucker was staring right at her bright red hair and green eyes. Her helmet was on the floor beside a chair that Tucker didn’t remember being in his room. Church winked into existence by her head, all floaty and blue and stared right at Tucker, who just blinked right back at him.
“Evening lazy ass,” Church stated flatly. “Didn’t think you’d find another excuse to sit around and do nothing so soon after being fucking stabbed.” For some reason Church seemed angry.
Carolina didn’t look away from her reports, but her voice carried a warning, “Epsilon.”
Church sighed and turned to Carolina and gestured back toward Tucker. “Well he’s the only one that could have had pneumonia in a fucking hot climate. He’s fucking lucky it was bronchitis.”
“Right fucking here dude.” His voice sounded like he’d been back in the desert, and he coughed, hard. Tucker quickly turned on his side so he could curl up like he wanted, clutching at his chest. He could hear Church’s high pitched worried or angry voice in his ear, but Carolina was the one who helped him sit and take the water that had been beside his bed to drink.
“It’s fine, Tucker, just breathe,” her voice soothed even as it commanded. He nodded, though he hated being coddled like this. He knew he had to breathe, it was just fucking hard when he was trying to cough his lungs through his fucking throat. “If it helps, Wash went to see Doctor Grey about getting something for your cough. You should take your antibiotic now that you’re awake.”
“How long?” It’s all Tucker trusted his wrecked voice to get out.
Church seemed to get the gist of his question, thankfully, and said, “It’s 1800. You’ve been asleep since 0600. According to Wash, they didn’t want to wake you when they got back with the antibiotics.” Tucker nodded, and Church continued, “This planet fucking hates you, dude.”
Tucker huffed out what little of a laugh he felt wouldn’t trigger more coughing, and nodded in agreement. He then pulled his covers right up to the bottom of his chin and settled in. He would get up, but Carolina could kick his ass on his best day, and Church would agree with her like he always did. Fucking AI.
“Good, you’re awake.” Washington strode into his room like he fucking owned it, and if Tucker weren’t tired and sore almost everywhere, he’d make more of a fuss about it. “You kept coughing in your sleep, you know.” Wash was completely out of his armor now, and was setting up pills and a bottle of something that definitely wasn’t vodka on his side table with the water. The model of an efficient dickhead, Wash got all the pills together and tugged Tucker’s blanket down to free his arms. “Take these.” Tucker listened, but only because he wanted to. Not because Wash in command mode was hot or anything, and he wanted to please him in some small way. Not at fucking all. Wait, what?
Wash frowned when Tucker just held the pills in his hand for several moments before he swallowed them. Before Tucker even realized , there was that cool hand again, but on his forehead before it trailed to his cheeks, and finally his neck. Tucker leaned into each touch, but only because the coolness felt good against his skin. Then there was a tiny little cup of something that smelled awful, even through his congested nose, in his hands, and he was being directed to take it like a shot of tequila, but without the salt or lime. Somehow it managed to taste worse than the said tequila. “We’ve got about ten minutes to kill until you’re going to want to pass out and stay that way for about six hours. If you’re hungry, now would be the time.”
Tucker shook his head and shivered. For that cold hand against his face feeling so good, who would have thought he’d actually feel cold. He should be feeling warm, right?
Carolina was looking over the edge of her report at the both of them when Tucker glanced that way, and Church had disappeared again. Her eyes darted from Tucker to Wash and back again before she abruptly stood and made her way to the door. “Feel better Tucker.” The door hissed closed behind her, and Tucker was disappointed Church hadn’t said anything to him. Well fuck him too.
Wash’s eyes followed Tucker’s and he sighed. “He was actually worried about you, you know. Screeching, high-pitched, angry-sounding worry.” He settled in Carolina’s chair, though he moved it closer to the bed. The screech of the legs against the bare floor made Tucker wince and bury his head in his hands. Wash muttered an apology and from the sound of it, went completely still until Tucker looked out from between his fingers.
“You do the same thing,” Tucker said quietly as he readjusted himself in the bed to rest his head in the pillows. It was too hard to hold it upright, and he swore he could feel his pulse on his scalp under his hair. He was distracted, so he hadn’t noticed his eyes had fallen shut until he felt the covers moving over his body. “M’awake,” Tucker said.
“I know,” Wash replied, as he kept tucking the blankets around Tucker, who tried to open his eyes again when he felt the bed dip beside him. He quickly gave up that notion, however, when he felt Wash’s hand on his forehead. It was cool and callused and oh god yes He felt Wash’s thumb stroking across part of his eyebrow. It was affection he so rarely received that he gave up any fight he had going with staying awake.