Fic: Dissonance Theory (Stargate: Universe)
Pairing: Rush/Young
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Almost none. Maybe Air part 1.
Word Count: ~1,000
Notes: The first of a couple fics that I promised to write in exchange for icons. This one is for theeverdream, who asked for something set on the Icarus base.
Summary: Rush chose carefully. He chose the encounter, and that meant that he was in control.
- - - -
Rush hadn’t given thought, exactly, as to what it would be like to share Colonel Young’s bed.
His days were occupied with equations, numbers, the sort of blunt-force scientific work that he thrived on. He didn’t work himself to exhaustion; he worked himself to a finely-calculated state, where sleep began to interfere with his speed, his ability, and that was when he caught a nap, a meal, a moment of rest. The shifts rotated around him; he didn’t pay attention to them.
But precision, calculation, slotting his own body’s rhythms into sets as clean and easy as an equation - it wasn’t enough. Not quite.
Which was why Rush pressed Young down onto the military-issue cot, kneeling over him, straddling his hips, breath short and sharp in between hard, messy kisses.
(The only flaw of the kisses, Rush thought, at the time, was that they were a little bit too gentle for his taste. That wasn’t what he was looking for.)
The encounter served Rush’s purposes. He needed to burn her out of his system. He didn’t want another woman. He didn’t want a pretentious, incompetent civilian scientist. He didn’t want a youthful, masculine soldier. He chose Young.
(In retrospect, the fact that they were still clothed when they fell to the bed was also a warning sign.)
Rush didn’t bother with seduction. He had neither the time nor the inclination for sexual games. And he doesn’t remember what exactly he said, but it wasn’t precisely a come-on, and was easy to judiciously re-interpret if Young didn’t want anything to do with him. And he seems to recall that Young’s face was unreadable, for a moment, then he tilted his head, in assent, a hint of a smile playing around his mouth.
Rush didn’t observe him closely. He was relieved, and he was busy letting the itch under his skin take him over. He could burn Gloria out of his system, with Young, and it would solve his problems.
And he remembers most of it. He does, even though he doesn’t say, doesn’t show it.
Remembers the fumble for lubricant (It was in Young’s room, Young’s bed, even though they both had privacy. Rush already knew he didn’t want to be reminded of this afterwards.), remembers the feel of Young’s fingers twisting inside him, the feel of his own breath turned harsh, low noises with each new sensation.
Rush chose carefully. He chose the encounter, and that meant that he was in control. He was the instigator, and it wasn’t even about Young, and Young was cheating on his wife, far away, back on Earth. Rush had already estimated that Young was the type to take responsibility himself, to feel guilt. Guilt was good, it was useful. Guilt meant silence.
And he remembers the burn of Young within him, the moment when it was too late to turn back. And that’s the miracle of sex, then, isn’t it, when two people, two bodies that kept apart from one another, clothes and careful, spatial boundaries between them - when they dropped those boundaries, when they went looking for something in someone else that they couldn’t find in themselves.
(Illogical, on the surface of it, but deeply logical beneath.)
It irritates Rush that he remembers. That, these days, when his thoughts are idle, it isn’t the Destiny that dominates them. That it’s Young.
And he tries to remember the things he wasn’t paying attention to, that first time. How there was a pause, after first penetration; Rush had his eyes closed, head part-turned away, and if he concentrates, he can still feel Young reaching up, Young’s fingertips tracing smooth lines down the length of Rush’s spine. Rush ignored it, at the time. But now, the memory of Young drawing him down, bringing him closer, seems too important to ignore.
Rush intended to leave afterwards.
(The fact that he didn’t was the third warning sign.)
He fell asleep, instead, when he just intended to take a quick rest. And not just the light sleep of unconsciousness required for continued mental functioning, but a deeper sleep. A true rest. He was awakened briefly by the sound of Young’s radio, surfaced for a moment to notice that the bed was still warm but empty next to him, and woke up for the third time wondering if the previous two were a dream, because Young was back, next to him. And when Rush opened his eyes, Young glanced over, something a hint softened in his expression.
(The warning signs were just signs, that was all. The problem was the second time. The one that morning.)
Young pinned Rush down, to the bed, and the pulse of Rush’s arousal sharpened faster than his capacity to reason. Because if he’d been able to reason, he would have known that because he was sore - lingering, from the exertions of the night before - that it wouldn’t be as much about simple desire. It wouldn’t be about getting rid of Gloria. It would be about intimacy, and that was unacceptable.
But then Young pressed inside him, and Rush fought for it, for every bit of the intimacy that he could get.
(And that was when it occurred to him that maybe he wasn’t the one in control of this particular encounter.)
This time it was slower, and more heated, and it didn’t burn anything out of Rush’s system. Just tangled it up in knots, past and present feelings mixing, and Rush wondered why he even fucking bothered. And why he couldn’t figure out the rules. Why he couldn’t fix himself, or, saving that, distract himself enough that the fixing wasn’t necessary.
He’s thinking about Young again.
Rush ducks his head, fingers running through his hair. Imagines the picture of Gloria. Imagines it between his fingertips, so he could touch the line of her cheek, remind himself of what she looked like.
He shouldn’t have stayed.
- - - -
A/N: Dissonance theory is a subset of persuasion theory that states that people seek to minimize cognitive dissonance, or contradictions between their own beliefs and actions.
According to a principle of the theory, if a person makes a decision that's at odds with their own beliefs, they will seek to justify it to themselves. If they can't, the dissonance of the decision will cause them to re-evaluate their own beliefs and assumptions.
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Almost none. Maybe Air part 1.
Word Count: ~1,000
Notes: The first of a couple fics that I promised to write in exchange for icons. This one is for theeverdream, who asked for something set on the Icarus base.
Summary: Rush chose carefully. He chose the encounter, and that meant that he was in control.
- - - -
Rush hadn’t given thought, exactly, as to what it would be like to share Colonel Young’s bed.
His days were occupied with equations, numbers, the sort of blunt-force scientific work that he thrived on. He didn’t work himself to exhaustion; he worked himself to a finely-calculated state, where sleep began to interfere with his speed, his ability, and that was when he caught a nap, a meal, a moment of rest. The shifts rotated around him; he didn’t pay attention to them.
But precision, calculation, slotting his own body’s rhythms into sets as clean and easy as an equation - it wasn’t enough. Not quite.
Which was why Rush pressed Young down onto the military-issue cot, kneeling over him, straddling his hips, breath short and sharp in between hard, messy kisses.
(The only flaw of the kisses, Rush thought, at the time, was that they were a little bit too gentle for his taste. That wasn’t what he was looking for.)
The encounter served Rush’s purposes. He needed to burn her out of his system. He didn’t want another woman. He didn’t want a pretentious, incompetent civilian scientist. He didn’t want a youthful, masculine soldier. He chose Young.
(In retrospect, the fact that they were still clothed when they fell to the bed was also a warning sign.)
Rush didn’t bother with seduction. He had neither the time nor the inclination for sexual games. And he doesn’t remember what exactly he said, but it wasn’t precisely a come-on, and was easy to judiciously re-interpret if Young didn’t want anything to do with him. And he seems to recall that Young’s face was unreadable, for a moment, then he tilted his head, in assent, a hint of a smile playing around his mouth.
Rush didn’t observe him closely. He was relieved, and he was busy letting the itch under his skin take him over. He could burn Gloria out of his system, with Young, and it would solve his problems.
And he remembers most of it. He does, even though he doesn’t say, doesn’t show it.
Remembers the fumble for lubricant (It was in Young’s room, Young’s bed, even though they both had privacy. Rush already knew he didn’t want to be reminded of this afterwards.), remembers the feel of Young’s fingers twisting inside him, the feel of his own breath turned harsh, low noises with each new sensation.
Rush chose carefully. He chose the encounter, and that meant that he was in control. He was the instigator, and it wasn’t even about Young, and Young was cheating on his wife, far away, back on Earth. Rush had already estimated that Young was the type to take responsibility himself, to feel guilt. Guilt was good, it was useful. Guilt meant silence.
And he remembers the burn of Young within him, the moment when it was too late to turn back. And that’s the miracle of sex, then, isn’t it, when two people, two bodies that kept apart from one another, clothes and careful, spatial boundaries between them - when they dropped those boundaries, when they went looking for something in someone else that they couldn’t find in themselves.
(Illogical, on the surface of it, but deeply logical beneath.)
It irritates Rush that he remembers. That, these days, when his thoughts are idle, it isn’t the Destiny that dominates them. That it’s Young.
And he tries to remember the things he wasn’t paying attention to, that first time. How there was a pause, after first penetration; Rush had his eyes closed, head part-turned away, and if he concentrates, he can still feel Young reaching up, Young’s fingertips tracing smooth lines down the length of Rush’s spine. Rush ignored it, at the time. But now, the memory of Young drawing him down, bringing him closer, seems too important to ignore.
Rush intended to leave afterwards.
(The fact that he didn’t was the third warning sign.)
He fell asleep, instead, when he just intended to take a quick rest. And not just the light sleep of unconsciousness required for continued mental functioning, but a deeper sleep. A true rest. He was awakened briefly by the sound of Young’s radio, surfaced for a moment to notice that the bed was still warm but empty next to him, and woke up for the third time wondering if the previous two were a dream, because Young was back, next to him. And when Rush opened his eyes, Young glanced over, something a hint softened in his expression.
(The warning signs were just signs, that was all. The problem was the second time. The one that morning.)
Young pinned Rush down, to the bed, and the pulse of Rush’s arousal sharpened faster than his capacity to reason. Because if he’d been able to reason, he would have known that because he was sore - lingering, from the exertions of the night before - that it wouldn’t be as much about simple desire. It wouldn’t be about getting rid of Gloria. It would be about intimacy, and that was unacceptable.
But then Young pressed inside him, and Rush fought for it, for every bit of the intimacy that he could get.
(And that was when it occurred to him that maybe he wasn’t the one in control of this particular encounter.)
This time it was slower, and more heated, and it didn’t burn anything out of Rush’s system. Just tangled it up in knots, past and present feelings mixing, and Rush wondered why he even fucking bothered. And why he couldn’t figure out the rules. Why he couldn’t fix himself, or, saving that, distract himself enough that the fixing wasn’t necessary.
He’s thinking about Young again.
Rush ducks his head, fingers running through his hair. Imagines the picture of Gloria. Imagines it between his fingertips, so he could touch the line of her cheek, remind himself of what she looked like.
He shouldn’t have stayed.
- - - -
A/N: Dissonance theory is a subset of persuasion theory that states that people seek to minimize cognitive dissonance, or contradictions between their own beliefs and actions.
According to a principle of the theory, if a person makes a decision that's at odds with their own beliefs, they will seek to justify it to themselves. If they can't, the dissonance of the decision will cause them to re-evaluate their own beliefs and assumptions.