Tucker did it!
folder
+M through R › Red vs. Blue
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,730
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
+M through R › Red vs. Blue
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,730
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Red vs. Blue, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Tucker did it!
Chapter: 1/?
Pairing: Tucker/O'Mally
Setting: Season 2
Rating: Slightly higher then PG
Disclaimer: I don't Own this.
Tucker was pissed off at Caboose, again, for what seemed like the hundredth time in days. Caboose’s increasing use of the scary voice, and the threats he made while using it, were frankly starting to scare him. But what was pissing him off, enough to override the fear aspect was the way that Caboose had decided that since Doc checked their vitals Caboose had better vitals. How Caboose had worked this out from Doc telling them they were both fine, which Tucker could have told him, when Doc didn’t make any other judgement on their medical status was completely beyond him. The object of his annoyance had just entered the room, and the first thing Caboose said was,
“So Tucker I bet you were wishing you’re Vitals were as good as mine.”
Tucker sighed, later the moans of pain from the inevitable headache would start; he had tried explaining, many… many times, that both their vitals were the same, since they were both in near perfect health. But he had run into his main problem then and there, Caboose had no idea what Doc meant about their Vitals, and each time he explained it to Caboose he would just stare at him while he talked. Tucker once after explaining just went off on a tangent detailing everything that pissed him off, ranging from this lame-ass assignment to the MC wiping out the Covenant armada and Caboose stood there staring and nodding the entire time.
“Caboose, do you really want to know if your Vitals are better then mine?”
“Uh they are, but if you want to check I guess its ok. But we don’t have a medical thingy like the one that Doc has. Maybe Church has one in his robot body.”
He actually thought Caboose could have had a good idea, it conceivable, unlikely but conceivable, that there would be a form of medical sensor built in Lopez’s body. But then he saw the problem with Caboose’s idea; if Caboose bothered Church, then Church would blame him, and he would have to listen to Church’s bitching at him. It would be either the ‘Tucker don’t encourage Caboose’ talk, or the ‘Tucker I hate you, I get up early because there isn’t enough time in the day to hate you’ rant. Not wanting to be on the receiving end of that he said,
“How about we just compare a few of the easy things first, before you go bothering Church,” under his breath he continued, “If you even remember this later.”
Caboose’s voice shifted, the scary voice, it was the scary voice. The voice that made Tucker want to run and hide, “I remember all. And I will remember it long after I have killed everybody, starting with the Reds, ending with you. Let us check the ‘easy’ stuff, so I can be confident in my superiority over you before your Vitals stop.”
“Um ‘kay.”
Tucker was frankly a little scared; the scary voice in Caboose didn’t usually talk for this long.
“Take off your helmet” tucker said while struggling with the clasps on his own armor.
Caboose was oddly competent in taking off the armor. He stood at attention waiting for Tucker to tell him what to do next, but if the scary voice part of Caboose was still in command, he wouldn’t wait long.
Tucker scratched at the small silver oval on the back of his neck, the neural interface to allow him to control his suit, it always itched like a mother fucker when he took off the helmet. Tucker activated the micro medical database in his implant, it was for field dressings and the like, to stop your team mates from dieing before a medic got there, according to doc just to make them more comfortable, but he figured it should be able to give him a few ways to check out Caboose and himself.
Pulse, he would check both their resting heart beats per minute, easy enough. He cracked the seals on right hand glove, slipping the glove off feeling cold air rushing across his fingertips. Tucker rubbed his index and middle finger against his thumb, warming up his fingers a little, before he placed two fingers against Caboose’s carotid artery.
“Caboose are you ok? You’re pulse is faster then it should be.”
The scary voice responded “I’m perfectly fine. Move on.” but Caboose’s heart was racing.
Tucker started removing the rest of his armor indicating for Caboose to follow suit. Caboose beat him to completing the task again, and stood there in a skin tight black suit liner, Caboose wouldn’t let him forget that he was there whenever he looked up from the suit clasps Caboose’s gaze locked with his own. It was becoming more and more tempting to just tell Caboose he did have better vitals, then he could put back on his armor, and caboose would put on his own and most importantly stop staring at him.
He could see that Caboose’s pulse was still way to high, something had to be really wrong. His MMD told him to check Caboose’s temperature, so he stepped in close to Caboose and put his palm against, on inspection, Caboose’s sweaty brow. He moved his focus to Caboose’s chest, it was much cooler then his head, and his arms freezing. The MMD hypothised that Caboose had a fever, and a Medic should be called.
So Tucker did the only thing he could think of in the situation, he led caboose out of the flag room and half way around the base to the right side ramp, then he took hold of caboose’s shoulders and got him to lay down on the sun warmed concrete.
His MMD reacessed the situation, since a Medic couldn’t be called in now, and they weren’t in any danger of an attack, and it suggested that he provide body heat for the patient.
As he lay down beside Caboose he explained that his MMD was telling him that Caboose most likely had a fever and that the barer of the MMD should start holding the patient until the patient's body warmed up. But as he pressed himself against Caboose, their bodies fitting together like a scope fits to its riffle barrel, he figured it out, the MMD was wrong, so very wrong. The sweaty brow, the hot face, the cold arms, and more importantly a rather impressive piece of anatomy that was hot, hard and pressed against him.
--To be continued--
Pairing: Tucker/O'Mally
Setting: Season 2
Rating: Slightly higher then PG
Disclaimer: I don't Own this.
Tucker was pissed off at Caboose, again, for what seemed like the hundredth time in days. Caboose’s increasing use of the scary voice, and the threats he made while using it, were frankly starting to scare him. But what was pissing him off, enough to override the fear aspect was the way that Caboose had decided that since Doc checked their vitals Caboose had better vitals. How Caboose had worked this out from Doc telling them they were both fine, which Tucker could have told him, when Doc didn’t make any other judgement on their medical status was completely beyond him. The object of his annoyance had just entered the room, and the first thing Caboose said was,
“So Tucker I bet you were wishing you’re Vitals were as good as mine.”
Tucker sighed, later the moans of pain from the inevitable headache would start; he had tried explaining, many… many times, that both their vitals were the same, since they were both in near perfect health. But he had run into his main problem then and there, Caboose had no idea what Doc meant about their Vitals, and each time he explained it to Caboose he would just stare at him while he talked. Tucker once after explaining just went off on a tangent detailing everything that pissed him off, ranging from this lame-ass assignment to the MC wiping out the Covenant armada and Caboose stood there staring and nodding the entire time.
“Caboose, do you really want to know if your Vitals are better then mine?”
“Uh they are, but if you want to check I guess its ok. But we don’t have a medical thingy like the one that Doc has. Maybe Church has one in his robot body.”
He actually thought Caboose could have had a good idea, it conceivable, unlikely but conceivable, that there would be a form of medical sensor built in Lopez’s body. But then he saw the problem with Caboose’s idea; if Caboose bothered Church, then Church would blame him, and he would have to listen to Church’s bitching at him. It would be either the ‘Tucker don’t encourage Caboose’ talk, or the ‘Tucker I hate you, I get up early because there isn’t enough time in the day to hate you’ rant. Not wanting to be on the receiving end of that he said,
“How about we just compare a few of the easy things first, before you go bothering Church,” under his breath he continued, “If you even remember this later.”
Caboose’s voice shifted, the scary voice, it was the scary voice. The voice that made Tucker want to run and hide, “I remember all. And I will remember it long after I have killed everybody, starting with the Reds, ending with you. Let us check the ‘easy’ stuff, so I can be confident in my superiority over you before your Vitals stop.”
“Um ‘kay.”
Tucker was frankly a little scared; the scary voice in Caboose didn’t usually talk for this long.
“Take off your helmet” tucker said while struggling with the clasps on his own armor.
Caboose was oddly competent in taking off the armor. He stood at attention waiting for Tucker to tell him what to do next, but if the scary voice part of Caboose was still in command, he wouldn’t wait long.
Tucker scratched at the small silver oval on the back of his neck, the neural interface to allow him to control his suit, it always itched like a mother fucker when he took off the helmet. Tucker activated the micro medical database in his implant, it was for field dressings and the like, to stop your team mates from dieing before a medic got there, according to doc just to make them more comfortable, but he figured it should be able to give him a few ways to check out Caboose and himself.
Pulse, he would check both their resting heart beats per minute, easy enough. He cracked the seals on right hand glove, slipping the glove off feeling cold air rushing across his fingertips. Tucker rubbed his index and middle finger against his thumb, warming up his fingers a little, before he placed two fingers against Caboose’s carotid artery.
“Caboose are you ok? You’re pulse is faster then it should be.”
The scary voice responded “I’m perfectly fine. Move on.” but Caboose’s heart was racing.
Tucker started removing the rest of his armor indicating for Caboose to follow suit. Caboose beat him to completing the task again, and stood there in a skin tight black suit liner, Caboose wouldn’t let him forget that he was there whenever he looked up from the suit clasps Caboose’s gaze locked with his own. It was becoming more and more tempting to just tell Caboose he did have better vitals, then he could put back on his armor, and caboose would put on his own and most importantly stop staring at him.
He could see that Caboose’s pulse was still way to high, something had to be really wrong. His MMD told him to check Caboose’s temperature, so he stepped in close to Caboose and put his palm against, on inspection, Caboose’s sweaty brow. He moved his focus to Caboose’s chest, it was much cooler then his head, and his arms freezing. The MMD hypothised that Caboose had a fever, and a Medic should be called.
So Tucker did the only thing he could think of in the situation, he led caboose out of the flag room and half way around the base to the right side ramp, then he took hold of caboose’s shoulders and got him to lay down on the sun warmed concrete.
His MMD reacessed the situation, since a Medic couldn’t be called in now, and they weren’t in any danger of an attack, and it suggested that he provide body heat for the patient.
As he lay down beside Caboose he explained that his MMD was telling him that Caboose most likely had a fever and that the barer of the MMD should start holding the patient until the patient's body warmed up. But as he pressed himself against Caboose, their bodies fitting together like a scope fits to its riffle barrel, he figured it out, the MMD was wrong, so very wrong. The sweaty brow, the hot face, the cold arms, and more importantly a rather impressive piece of anatomy that was hot, hard and pressed against him.
--To be continued--