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When Tucker finished rounds that night and switched out with Carolina, he noticed the shared lounge area was dimly lit. Usually Grif would be sitting in front of the television, a beat up old box that had seen better days, with Simmons beside him, reading.
Instead of a mess of short red curls popping up from where Simmons usually sat, there were two feet hanging off one arm and a head full of long, blonde hair on top with short, dark brown hair underneath just resting on the other.
“Everyone else has gone to bed, you should too Tucker!” Donut’s cheery voice popped up. Tucker jumped slightly. He hadn’t noticed the ‘light-ish red’ clad soldier occupying the bench near the electric jug.
“Isn’t it a bit early? Why did everyone go off so soon?” Tucker asked, relaxing slightly and making his way to the fridge. He shrugged off the top half of his power suit, letting it hang around his hips. The armour had been left in the locker room prior to walking in the door. The grey singlet underneath was slightly wrinkled and damp from sweat.
“When Wash came back from rounds, he dozed off not long after you left. So, Simmons decided to turn the TV off and drag Grif to bed. Everyone else thought it was a good idea,” Donut replied, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him sleep so much.”
Tucker opened the fridge and ducked behind the door, a small, soft smile adorning his lips. “Captain Tight-Ass doesn’t sleep well,” Tucker replied quietly.
As if on cue, a soft thud made Tucker and Donut turn their attention to the battered lounge. The feet and head were now missing and Tucker chuckled quietly before closing the fridge, deciding against getting anything in favour of walking towards their sleeping Freelancer.
“I think I’ll go to bed too, good night Tucker,” Donut yawned, stretching his arms above his head.
“Night dude,” Tucker replied, waving to Donut before moving to the other side of the couch.
Tucker crouched down next to Wash and poked his shoulder lightly. Wash’s hand clenched and unclenched before he let out a soft sigh. Tucker stuffed the knuckled of his thumb into his mouth to keep from laughing.
Curled up and snoring softly, Wash looked like a sleeping kitten.
Thankful the Freelancer had decided to change into civvies before claiming the couch, Tucker snuck one arm under Wash’s knees and the other around his shoulders. Tugging Wash close, Tucker lifted him up and made his way to Wash’s room.
Tucker had made it halfway down the hallway leading to Blue team’s rooms (Red team had their own hallway on the opposite side of the lounge room) when he realised Wash had fisted his singlet and nuzzled his shoulder.
Tucker felt his cheeks heat up slightly as he rolled his eyes and continued, shoving open Wash’s door and easily making his way over to the bed.
The upside to Wash’s room was nothing on the floor to trip over. The downside, the bed was made, making it hard for Tucker to put Wash to bed properly.
He had succeeded in pulling back the duvet when he misjudged his strength and toppled over, landing on top of Wash with a frustrated groan.
“Mm?”
Tucker froze and looked down at Wash, whose eyes were only barely open, hand still clutching Tucker’s singlet.
“Hey dude, you fell asleep on the lounge,” Tucker whispered, trying to pry Wash’s hand from his clothing.
Wash looked at him through lidded eyes before seemingly taking note of his current location. He shuffled back onto the bed, pulling Tucker with him, and laid down.
Tucker attempted to pull back, but when Wash didn’t release him, he sighed and chuckled softly.
“Dude, seriously, let go, I promise I won’t go anywhere. I just need to fix up the covers,” Tucker whispered, hoping Wash would finally release him.
The hand wound in his singlet loosened and Tucker grabbed the sheet underneath Wash and heaved it down.
He climbed in next to Wash, kicking his boots off and brought the covers back up, leaning over Wash to make sure he was covered.
When Tucker finally settled on his side, Wash scooted closer, tucking his head under Tucker’s chin.
“What’s with you today? You’ve gone all cuddly on me,” Tucker chuckled softly, throwing an arm over Wash and pulling the man closer.
Wash yawned in response, choosing to try and snuggle closer to Tucker rather than respond.
Tucker smiled and rested his chin in Wash’s blonde hair.
“Dude, you’re like a fucking kitten.”