legionworld | The Sad Blanket Tour [Open]

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The Sad Blanket Tour [Open]

Who| Wash and whoever else wants to join in
What| Those last two missions were terrible, and Wash is checking in on his friends to make sure they're okay and nudge them in that direction if they're not
Where| All over the ship
When| After Silent Horizon and No Sanity Clause; the rest of the afternoon/evening after Kid Q's briefing
Warnings/Notes| This is mostly for Wash's extant CR, but I'm absolutely down for him meeting new people. He's not going to turn anyone away right now, after all. Also, behold the mighty planning spreadsheet.

It has been, to put it lightly, a shitty day.

They'd beaten the Joker but lost one of their own. Half the team had been through what sounded like literal hell. Clown in a fridge victory aside, things hadn't gone well for anyone.

So, once Wash had gotten himself out of medical with a promise not to do anything strenuous until he'd healed completely, he'd hunted down as many blankets as he could find and gone looking for his teammates. He couldn't fix what had happened, but at least he could try to help.

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Well, that's a sentiment they've discussed before.

"If I don't get to use that line, neither do you," the Chief points out. He's not petulant, he's concerned.

"It was a shock to the entire team." Him included, but that's why he ran himself tired before coming back here, isn't it? It's dealt with. It's fine. "Nobody expects you to fix this the day it happened, Wash."

"I know." He knows when he's being a hypocrite, and he knows this isn't his responsibility - entirely or at all - but that doesn't necessarily stop him. "I know, but I can't- I can't do nothing, not when everyone-" Not when everyone's hurt. Not when everyone needs help.

But right now, doesn't that include him?

He stops and sighs, shoulders sagging. Maybe he can explain what he wants and not sound like a complete idiot. "Back in the project, one of my friends was Maine. He was a pretty big guy, and whenever I'd get upset or worked up about something, he'd let me lean on him until I felt better." There are days when Wash misses him so much it's almost a physical ache, and this is shaping up to be one of them. "I know you're not him - he's been gone for years - I just-"

He just what? Wanted to replace a dead friend? Maine and Chief are not the same, and asking Chief to fill in is unfair and selfish at best and fucking stupid at worst.

He shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn't have come here. He should've just gone back to his quarters and dealt with the fucking nightmares rather than try to talk Chief into something he's not equipped to do.

Damn it.

"Nevermind," he says abruptly, turning towards the door. "I'll get out of your hair."

Oh. This... this is weird, even by the Chief's rudimentary pretending-to-be-a-normal-person standards. This isn't something you ask somebody lightly, or at all. The fact Wash would even bare this awkward truth means two things: Firstly, that Wash is not doing well at all right now. But secondly, and more importantly, there's something the Chief can do. This is actionable

He points toward his couch.

"Sit," he instructs.

For a moment, Wash is torn. Part of him wants to leave, to get the fuck out of Dodge and attempt to salvage whatever is left of his dignity and his friendship with Chief. He can't just drop that in Chief's lap and expect things to go well.

The other part of him wants to sit on the couch as ordered, see what happens, and hope for the best. Chief isn't socialized, but that doesn't mean he isn't compassionate.

Caught between two options and momentarily indecisive, he settles for doing nothing at all, standing where he is and looking slightly baffled. "Um."

Because that's helpful.

The Chief arches one eyebrow at him and points again, more forcefully this time.

You heard him, Wash.

They've already hit critical awkward. It can't get worse.

It can absolutely get worse. It can always get worse. Wash has multiple years' worth of life experiences to prove it.

But he's also not dumb enough to argue with Chief - not when he's like this. "Okay..." So he crosses the room and sits on the couch, waiting to see if this will get better or worse.

The Chief, with clear deliberation, walks over. He pulls a blanket off the back of the couch and, dead serious, puts it over Wash's shoulders. It's Wash's turn to have a worried friend do that.

Then, the Chief sits down beside him. He picks up his comm off the table in front of them, because he still has some things to do, but doesn't start in on that yet. He sits back, puts one arm (still with the adhesive dressing medical put on it) on the back of the couch behind Wash to open up his side, and waits.

The offer has been made.

He sits there quietly as Chief moves, almost instinctively adjusting the blanket around his shoulders. Huh. He should ask for things more often.

That thought crashes and burns in the next moment. No. He never should have asked in the first place- he has no idea if Chief wants to do this or just feels like he has to as part of a friendship thing- Chief doesn't know this stuff, and Wash can't just go around putting expectations on him-

Never mind how hard it is to defy a direct order from Master Chief; he should've just left. "It's fine," he says, shaking his head and looking down at his lap. "I shouldn't have asked you anyway. I overstepped."

And yet here he still is, lacking the willpower to leave. Dammit.

Why does this have to be difficult? It's already strange, but why strange and difficult? Wasn't he just asked if this would be alright? Whether or not Wash should've even asked it doesn't matter anymore. The Chief answered, didn't he? Maybe that's not clear enough?

"You said it helps. I'm helping," he says, because for him it's that simple. ...And somewhat exasperating, but mostly that simple. Wash is looking for direly needed reassurance, and it's a bizarre but harmless request to grant.

The Chief considers touching Wash, but that would be a real overstep here. You don't touch people without permission, generally. He's given his, but he hasn't gotten that kind of permission back.

"It won't hurt me." Someone, somewhere, has to have given a worse reassurance at some point. Maybe.

Whether he should have asked may not matter to Chief, but Wash can't seem to let go of it. He doesn't know if it's guilt or fear or sheer emotional exhaustion as a result of the day's events. Either way, the result is the same: a half-formed request and guilty anxiety when someone offers to fulfill it.

He's still half-considering it - Chief is offering, and they're in a private space, so it's not like anyone's around to go crazy over it, and this isn't the first time he's wanted to lean on Chief and try to feel better about life - when Chief offers that assurance.

And Wash just stares.

"Yeah, I'd hope not," he manages after a few moments of silence. What in the actual fuck.

The Chief sets to analyzing his own actions for the point where he fucked up. He should have just let Wash leave. He could have explained he wasn't upset later, instead of clearly making things worse. He was just so glad to think there was something he could do, for once.

The Chief exhales heavily and looks away. He can take on the Covenant, the Halo array, and the Flood and still come out on top. Comforting his rattled teammate, however? This is simple, normal, and has completely defeated him.

"...You don't have to."

John feels further away from being human than he has in years. It was a mistake to think he understood.

He's been a Legionnaire for months, and Wash still doesn't know how to ask for help. Remedial classes for that one tend to go by the name of therapy, which is why he doesn't sign up.

And it's what lands him in situations like this. He didn't make himself clear, he second-guessed himself and kept doing it, and now he's hurt Chief. He dragged Chief into this situation, and now he's letting him flounder because Wash can't get past his own issues.

Spend the day trying to help people, get a stark reminder that he's still not out of the habit of hurting them. The more things change...

He hunches his shoulders and squeezes his eyes shut, pulling the blanket tight around him. As always, his attempts to will himself to disappear fail. He can't leave without making it worse, and it's not going to get better on his own.

Well. Maybe he can do what he's been doing all day and try to fix it.

He breathes out slowly and opens his eyes. "It's not your fault. I didn't start relying on Maine until we'd gotten to know each other, and that took a while. I just...didn't want you to feel obligated just because we're friends and I'm spending the evening feeling like shit." He pauses. "Probably would have helped if I'd led with that, huh." Why can't he have these moments of clarity before he causes problems?

"...Yes," he agrees. Okay, they both fucked up. That doesn't make it fine, but it helps. The Chief's used to assuming communication breakdowns are from his end. That much is normal for him. Even feeling like something's broken and he's not entirely a person is rare, but sort of normal for him.

...But usually, it doesn't bother him as much as this time. Usually, he doesn't have friends that aren't socially stunted in the same direction he is.

Wash isn't a "usually".

"Wash," he says finally, looking back toward him, "you know me better than anyone on this station besides Cortana. You're allowed to ask me for things."

Even weird physical contact things that don't make sense. Having friends is kind of a radical experience, really.

"If I can help, I'll try. If I can't, I'll tell you. This is something I can do."

He hasn't been clear either, even though he thought he was. It's too easy to fall back on a few words and more gestures. He's used to other Spartans, and Cortana who can lean on his neural feedback to interpret him. It's unfair of him to expect that from Wash, even when Wash has been getting pretty good at picking up on his communication.

He makes eye contact, hesitates, then adds: "You're not the only one who doesn't feel useful after the dust settles."

Wash deals with his desire to help by seeking out the rest of the team and trying to talk to them. The Chief does it by backing off, way off, because he knows anything he does will just make things worse. But it's still the same problem.

Edited 2017-02-01 06:15 (UTC)

Wash blinks and looks up at Chief. It's odd to have specific, explicit permission to be human. To come to someone that he hasn't known for years and still trusts enough to admit that he's not okay and ask for what he needs. To have someone offer it, no strings attached. It's freeing and terrifying all at once, and he's not sure what to do with that.

He's still processing when Chief follows it up, and he breathes a weak, helpless laugh, so short it almost stops before it starts. "Around here, I'm usually in medical when the dust settles. I don't get started until after they let me out." In this case, getting started trying to put people's lives back together, because the last thing they need is to end up like him.

Anything that might have been good humor fades, and he tugs at the blanket again. This is why he went looking for Chief in the first place - because he's exhausted, because he's done too much today, because he's seen his friends as wrecks of their usual selves, because he's worn himself out and left himself feeling small and weak and fragile-

But he has permission now, and Chief's arm is still up on the couch.

He scoots over, closing the gap between them before he can change his mind (because, despite everything, that's still a possibility), and after a moment, he leans against Chief's side. Chief isn't Maine - he's bigger and built differently and sane and still here - and that's going to take some getting used to, but for now...

For now, Wash can allow himself to feel small and fragile and weak, because right here and now, he also feels safe. That's a feeling that's been hard to come by over the past few years of his life.

A quiet "thank you" is all he can manage. Hopefully that's enough.

The Chief lets Wash settle, then puts his arm down around him. It's not like the Valor's Day incident, he's relaxed this time. They've established what this contact means, he understands, and though it's still unfamiliar it's not uncomfortable. If this lets him share a measure of stability, then it's worth doing.

Without another word, the Chief goes back to using his free hand to check over the last of his comm-related to-do list. There's nothing else he feels like he needs to discuss. He can sit here and do this and let Wash lean on him.

The Chief is worried about a number of things (and people), but he's still steady. He's still alright. Wash doesn't have to strive to be the okay one, here. The Chief doesn't need him to be.

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The Sad Blanket Tour [Open]

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