Don't
Title: Don't
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Continuation of Tell Me I'm Wrong, Please... Stay, Not Yet
Very little changed for the Agents in their day to day activities. Indeed, little could change. They were unable to show the same gentle affections in public that other couples could. It was easy enough to find ways to work together, and a supportive hand on the shoulder after a job well done sent little thrills through the chest, but it was hard to have to guard their every look, their every move.
When they were together, though, everything was right. Whatever they were doing, it seemed they just got along. Wash couldn't help but wonder how they managed to work out. Maine had the arrogance of his youth, liked to drink heavily, and made everything into a joke. Wash was far more subdued, mature and serious, but somehow they just managed to fit together. Perhaps their vast differences were part of why they did; Maine gave Wash the warmth and security that he craved and in his turn, he helped ground and steady Maine's wild exuberance. Wash even slept better in Maine's bed. The warmth of his body, the acceptance he found in his arms, and the safety of like desires; Wash felt genuinely happy for the first time in years.
For his part, Maine hadn't anticipated how hard it would be to move slow with Wash. It had taken over a week for Wash to even get comfortable enough with the idea of taking off his shirt. Maine had been careful not to push him further or faster than he could go, but having access to his bare, muscled chest was almost more than he could handle. He let his palms slide across his skin, left a trail of kisses that had Wash panting and Maine quite frustrated, though he was careful not to let it show. While he delighted in every little new experience they were able to take together, he still wished he could do more. While every barrier that fell, every small step Wash would take with him, was like his first as well, as time passed, Maine found he needed more than he was getting.
It was mid-afternoon, and Maine was in the gym with a small group working on hand to hand combat. He had just finished a round in the ring when he saw Wash coming. He gave a bright grin at first, but it quickly turned to a look of confusion, and then one of resigned guilt as the other walked up. Maine did not even try to avoid the punch, stumbling back under the force of the blow. He leaned over, touching his fingers to his nose and bringing them away bloody, then he raised his eyes to Wash, but dropped them again at seeing the pure rage that was reflected there.
A few chuckles could be heard from those who had gathered around, but they were quickly disappointed. There was no fight. Maine didn't move and Wash turned and left.
"Well, fuck." Maine closed his eyes for a moment and fought the waves guilt and grief that washed over him.
Later that day, Maine stood banging on Wash's door. "Let me in, we need to talk," he insisted when he got no response. "Dude, I know you're in there." Still nothing.
He raked a hand through his hair in frustration and mentally kicked himself for the thousandth time since that morning. "I'm sorry, alright? Please, just... just open the door."
Maine was half way through another set of banging on the door when it opened unexpectedly and he almost fell in. Wash was standing there, the anger so clear on his face that Maine almost shrunk away. In fact, he was so angry he was shaking, unable to even speak for a moment. Maine took advantage of it. "Please," he murmured, "God, Wash, I'm so sorry, but please, just listen to me okay? I can explain-"
"Don't," he said, his voice flat. "I don't want to hear your excuses, Maine. I don't want to know what happened or why you did it. I want you to leave."
Wash went to close the door but Maine stuck his foot in the gap just in time, forcing his way in before closing it behind him. "Please. I needed something, Wash," he said, hoping beyond hope that he could fix the huge fucking mess he had made. "I just, I needed something and-"
"Well, if that's all you needed, then you got it. Congratulations. Now get the fuck out."
"That... that's not what I meant-"
"Then what did you mean, Maine?" Wash was standing with his arms folded across his chest, his face filled with disgust.
"I just... it's been three months! Fuck. I mean..."
Wash snorted. "I'm not listening to this," he said, turning away. "Just get out."
"I couldn't ask you!" Maine said, pleading to be understood. "I love you, but it's so hard-"
Wash stopped. "What?" Maybe he did want to hear this.
Maine blinked. "What?"
Wash was facing him again. "What did you just say?" Wash was still angry, but something had caught his attention and he wanted to make sure he had just heard what he thought he had.
Maine opened his mouth, then closed it again. He took a deep breath and said, "I've tried not to push you. I know you're not ready for certain things, but-"
"No, not that," Wash said, taking a step towards him. "What you said after that."
A puzzled look crossed his face, and then he blushed deeply as he realized what he had said. It was something he had never said before. He couldn't look Wash in the eyes, not after what he had done, and it suddenly hit him just how much damage he had caused. Wiping at the tears that sprang unwanted to his eyes, he mumbled, "I love you, David."
He wanted to believe it, he wanted to think that all this time hadn't been just a game or a passing fancy, but then the hurt and anger rose once more. "Then how could you fuck her?" he yelled. Grabbing the front of Maine's shirt, he threw him against the wall and punched him again. "How could you do that? You lying sack of shit, you don't give a fuck about anyone but yourself!"
Maine took the abuse, almost glad for it. He deserved every drop of Washington's hatred. "I wanted you!" Maine cried. "I wanted you so bad... it's driving me crazy, but I... I can't ask that. I can't ask you for it."
Wash wanted to punch him again, wanted to pick him up and throw him out into the hall but at the same time he wanted to believe that Maine was actually telling the truth.
"I go to sleep with you and wake up with you and I can't imagine you not in my bed... I don't want to imagine it. But fuck, David, I can barely touch you without you tensing up on me! I can't even..." Maine gestured helplessly. "All I've wanted for weeks is to make love to you but I can't! You can't!" Maine wondered if he could sound like any more of a prick, struggling to find the right words before just giving up. There were no right words.
Washington was looking at him with one of those damned irritating, unreadable expressions.
"I'm sorry," he finally said again, still unable to look him in the eye. "I'm so sorry."
After a moment, he whispered, "Is that why? Is that really why you did it?"
"I didn't think you'd find out," he said. Okay, so not the best defense in the world. "I thought if I could just... if I could get through it, find a way to deal with the frustration, then I could just be there for you without-" Maine didn't even care that he was crying. "Without needing to think about myself. I never wanted to hurt you."
"You did hurt me, Maine," he whispered. He was standing right in front of him now, their faces inches apart. "Why didn't you say something?"
"I couldn't put that pressure on you." He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself against his emotions. "I didn't want to ever force you to do anything you weren't ready for, and... I thought... I was afraid if I said something,..."
"That I'd do it, even if I wasn't ready," Wash finished softly. Maine nodded. Both were silent for what seemed like a very long time.
Then something happened. Wash was gently caressing his face where the bruise from earlier had turned the skin purple and black. Then he leaned in and brushed his lips to Maine's. It seemed so incongruous that Maine wasn't sure how to take it at first. He blinked a few times and looked up at the older Agent in confusion.
Wash was quiet for a bit longer before he answered the unspoken question. "I understand now," he breathed. He brushed his thumbs across Maine's wet cheeks, leaning in to kiss him again. Maine was almost scared to touch him in return, but as the kiss continued, he wrapped his arms around his neck, feeling his chest leap as Wash pressed into him.
Neither could quite say who had made the first move. They were pulling at one another's clothes with an almost desperate need. It didn't take long before Maine was laying over him on the bed, only the fabric of their boxers remaining between them. Wash let his hands brush over Maine's sides, still so uncertain with the action. Ribbons of delight curled through him, though, made even more wonderful as Maine's hips pressed against him, his need unmistakable.
Maine drew back for a moment and looked deep into his eyes. He had hurt him so much already, he couldn't bare to do so again. "Tell me to stop," he breathed. "Tell me you're not ready."
It occurred to him for the first time that Maine had already seen him naked, even if he hadn't realized it at the time. They had all showered together after training or gym workouts. It was no surprise that Wash hadn't noticed Maine's attention. In the showers, Wash tended to focus on nothing but the tile wall in front of him and never let his eyes wander. Now curiosity was tugging at him to know what Maine looked like. It was only fair, after all. Right?
He had felt it before, in fact it was hard to miss. Maine was usually at least half erect whenever they were together, and he wasn't a small boy. But now it was as hard as his own and his mind wandered into areas he had never really considered before. Moving his hands a little lower, he found the band of Maine's boxers and hooked his thumbs under it. "Don't stop," he breathed.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Continuation of Tell Me I'm Wrong, Please... Stay, Not Yet
Very little changed for the Agents in their day to day activities. Indeed, little could change. They were unable to show the same gentle affections in public that other couples could. It was easy enough to find ways to work together, and a supportive hand on the shoulder after a job well done sent little thrills through the chest, but it was hard to have to guard their every look, their every move.
When they were together, though, everything was right. Whatever they were doing, it seemed they just got along. Wash couldn't help but wonder how they managed to work out. Maine had the arrogance of his youth, liked to drink heavily, and made everything into a joke. Wash was far more subdued, mature and serious, but somehow they just managed to fit together. Perhaps their vast differences were part of why they did; Maine gave Wash the warmth and security that he craved and in his turn, he helped ground and steady Maine's wild exuberance. Wash even slept better in Maine's bed. The warmth of his body, the acceptance he found in his arms, and the safety of like desires; Wash felt genuinely happy for the first time in years.
For his part, Maine hadn't anticipated how hard it would be to move slow with Wash. It had taken over a week for Wash to even get comfortable enough with the idea of taking off his shirt. Maine had been careful not to push him further or faster than he could go, but having access to his bare, muscled chest was almost more than he could handle. He let his palms slide across his skin, left a trail of kisses that had Wash panting and Maine quite frustrated, though he was careful not to let it show. While he delighted in every little new experience they were able to take together, he still wished he could do more. While every barrier that fell, every small step Wash would take with him, was like his first as well, as time passed, Maine found he needed more than he was getting.
It was mid-afternoon, and Maine was in the gym with a small group working on hand to hand combat. He had just finished a round in the ring when he saw Wash coming. He gave a bright grin at first, but it quickly turned to a look of confusion, and then one of resigned guilt as the other walked up. Maine did not even try to avoid the punch, stumbling back under the force of the blow. He leaned over, touching his fingers to his nose and bringing them away bloody, then he raised his eyes to Wash, but dropped them again at seeing the pure rage that was reflected there.
A few chuckles could be heard from those who had gathered around, but they were quickly disappointed. There was no fight. Maine didn't move and Wash turned and left.
"Well, fuck." Maine closed his eyes for a moment and fought the waves guilt and grief that washed over him.
Later that day, Maine stood banging on Wash's door. "Let me in, we need to talk," he insisted when he got no response. "Dude, I know you're in there." Still nothing.
He raked a hand through his hair in frustration and mentally kicked himself for the thousandth time since that morning. "I'm sorry, alright? Please, just... just open the door."
Maine was half way through another set of banging on the door when it opened unexpectedly and he almost fell in. Wash was standing there, the anger so clear on his face that Maine almost shrunk away. In fact, he was so angry he was shaking, unable to even speak for a moment. Maine took advantage of it. "Please," he murmured, "God, Wash, I'm so sorry, but please, just listen to me okay? I can explain-"
"Don't," he said, his voice flat. "I don't want to hear your excuses, Maine. I don't want to know what happened or why you did it. I want you to leave."
Wash went to close the door but Maine stuck his foot in the gap just in time, forcing his way in before closing it behind him. "Please. I needed something, Wash," he said, hoping beyond hope that he could fix the huge fucking mess he had made. "I just, I needed something and-"
"Well, if that's all you needed, then you got it. Congratulations. Now get the fuck out."
"That... that's not what I meant-"
"Then what did you mean, Maine?" Wash was standing with his arms folded across his chest, his face filled with disgust.
"I just... it's been three months! Fuck. I mean..."
Wash snorted. "I'm not listening to this," he said, turning away. "Just get out."
"I couldn't ask you!" Maine said, pleading to be understood. "I love you, but it's so hard-"
Wash stopped. "What?" Maybe he did want to hear this.
Maine blinked. "What?"
Wash was facing him again. "What did you just say?" Wash was still angry, but something had caught his attention and he wanted to make sure he had just heard what he thought he had.
Maine opened his mouth, then closed it again. He took a deep breath and said, "I've tried not to push you. I know you're not ready for certain things, but-"
"No, not that," Wash said, taking a step towards him. "What you said after that."
A puzzled look crossed his face, and then he blushed deeply as he realized what he had said. It was something he had never said before. He couldn't look Wash in the eyes, not after what he had done, and it suddenly hit him just how much damage he had caused. Wiping at the tears that sprang unwanted to his eyes, he mumbled, "I love you, David."
He wanted to believe it, he wanted to think that all this time hadn't been just a game or a passing fancy, but then the hurt and anger rose once more. "Then how could you fuck her?" he yelled. Grabbing the front of Maine's shirt, he threw him against the wall and punched him again. "How could you do that? You lying sack of shit, you don't give a fuck about anyone but yourself!"
Maine took the abuse, almost glad for it. He deserved every drop of Washington's hatred. "I wanted you!" Maine cried. "I wanted you so bad... it's driving me crazy, but I... I can't ask that. I can't ask you for it."
Wash wanted to punch him again, wanted to pick him up and throw him out into the hall but at the same time he wanted to believe that Maine was actually telling the truth.
"I go to sleep with you and wake up with you and I can't imagine you not in my bed... I don't want to imagine it. But fuck, David, I can barely touch you without you tensing up on me! I can't even..." Maine gestured helplessly. "All I've wanted for weeks is to make love to you but I can't! You can't!" Maine wondered if he could sound like any more of a prick, struggling to find the right words before just giving up. There were no right words.
Washington was looking at him with one of those damned irritating, unreadable expressions.
"I'm sorry," he finally said again, still unable to look him in the eye. "I'm so sorry."
After a moment, he whispered, "Is that why? Is that really why you did it?"
"I didn't think you'd find out," he said. Okay, so not the best defense in the world. "I thought if I could just... if I could get through it, find a way to deal with the frustration, then I could just be there for you without-" Maine didn't even care that he was crying. "Without needing to think about myself. I never wanted to hurt you."
"You did hurt me, Maine," he whispered. He was standing right in front of him now, their faces inches apart. "Why didn't you say something?"
"I couldn't put that pressure on you." He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself against his emotions. "I didn't want to ever force you to do anything you weren't ready for, and... I thought... I was afraid if I said something,..."
"That I'd do it, even if I wasn't ready," Wash finished softly. Maine nodded. Both were silent for what seemed like a very long time.
Then something happened. Wash was gently caressing his face where the bruise from earlier had turned the skin purple and black. Then he leaned in and brushed his lips to Maine's. It seemed so incongruous that Maine wasn't sure how to take it at first. He blinked a few times and looked up at the older Agent in confusion.
Wash was quiet for a bit longer before he answered the unspoken question. "I understand now," he breathed. He brushed his thumbs across Maine's wet cheeks, leaning in to kiss him again. Maine was almost scared to touch him in return, but as the kiss continued, he wrapped his arms around his neck, feeling his chest leap as Wash pressed into him.
Neither could quite say who had made the first move. They were pulling at one another's clothes with an almost desperate need. It didn't take long before Maine was laying over him on the bed, only the fabric of their boxers remaining between them. Wash let his hands brush over Maine's sides, still so uncertain with the action. Ribbons of delight curled through him, though, made even more wonderful as Maine's hips pressed against him, his need unmistakable.
Maine drew back for a moment and looked deep into his eyes. He had hurt him so much already, he couldn't bare to do so again. "Tell me to stop," he breathed. "Tell me you're not ready."
It occurred to him for the first time that Maine had already seen him naked, even if he hadn't realized it at the time. They had all showered together after training or gym workouts. It was no surprise that Wash hadn't noticed Maine's attention. In the showers, Wash tended to focus on nothing but the tile wall in front of him and never let his eyes wander. Now curiosity was tugging at him to know what Maine looked like. It was only fair, after all. Right?
He had felt it before, in fact it was hard to miss. Maine was usually at least half erect whenever they were together, and he wasn't a small boy. But now it was as hard as his own and his mind wandered into areas he had never really considered before. Moving his hands a little lower, he found the band of Maine's boxers and hooked his thumbs under it. "Don't stop," he breathed.