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Rush huffs out an annoyed breath and tries not to listen in on the conversation between his double and Young. It is fucking irritating.
At first, when Scott had shown up and dragged his double through the gate by sheer force, he'd thought it would be good. He'd still chewed Scott out about his twin's right to choose his own fate, of course, but deep down he'd been glad he didn't have to see himself die. Not just for sentimental reasons, but because two of himself means twice the productivity. Twice the problem-solving capacity. Better conversation.
At least, that was the plan.
Yes, in theory having his double aboard the ship could've been great. In practice, however, it is fucking irritating.
Because his double (“You can call me Nicholas, Colonel,” he'd said, and Rush had to squash the childish urge to insist that if Young was going to be calling anyone Nicholas, it'd be him) had apparently come to some rather earth-shattering conclusions after coming back from the alternate Destiny and locking himself into one of the spare quarters for an entire day and night. While he still believed in the importance of the mission, and while he still spent most of his waking hours working incessantly, he had become annoyingly interested in Young as well. In fact, when Young had a bridge shift Rush's double was sure to be found in the bridge too, working on his console and taking way more breaks than necessary to discuss things with Young one on one. Fucking irritating.
Rush doesn't even really know what the hell his double's problem is, because sure, Young seems to be the only one to really grasp the importance of the mission, and obviously he appreciates the man being willing to stay behind with him when Telford insisted on dialing from within that star, but he's just Young. There's no reason for his twin to moon over him like that – and that's what it is, even if thankfully Young doesn't seem to have cottoned on yet. There's absolutely no fucking reason for his double to act like a clingy fool, following Young around to the mess hall at dinner and always making sure they're seated together. There's no reason for that stupid goddamn flush on his cheeks when Young smiles at him (and no, Rush isn't jealous that Young isn't smiling at him. But if Young is going to go around smiling at people like that someone should tell him that he looks like an idiot, because he does).
Of course, there's no real reason for Rush to feel like he should tag along whenever his double seeks out Young, either. There's no real reason he prefers staying close when his double and Young eat their protein slop together. There's no real reason why he's working on his bridge console when he is supposed to be down in the control interface room. He feels like perhaps he's trying to chaperon them – make sure his twin doesn't embarrass himself. It's not because he's jealous. It's not.
He watches his double put his hand on Young's arm, and it makes his blood boil with a sudden ferocity. There is no need for that kind of touching – he doesn't do that kind of touching – so why does his twin insist on making such a fucking spectacle of himself? Young seems kind of surprised by the touch, too, and Rush feels his ears burn when Young's eyes flick over to him uncertainly, so he turns back to his console, back to his work, and curses Scott for dragging his double back to Destiny. His Destiny. His Destiny, and his Colonel Young, goddammit.
It doesn't exactly improve his mood when he stops by Young's quarters later that night and catches the tail end of a conversation between his double and the Colonel.
“...Is this because of what happened to your people?” Young asks quietly, and Rush halts right outside the door. He's not eavesdropping because he cares, per se, but this seems like something he should know.
A soft rustle of fabric makes him wonder what is going on in there – whether it's just someone taking a step closer or whether there is any physical contact happening between the two of them. He gnashes his teeth together at the memory of his twin's hand on Young's arm.
“I lost you... him... He's gone, and then I found you and you're here, and I just...” His double sounds timid, uncertain, and Rush hates the thought of Young seeing him like this, because he's basically the same person except he'd never be so damn pathetic.
“Nicholas,” Young says, and Rush is certain he doesn't imagine the loaded fucking tension between the two of them.
“I didn't realize before, okay? I didn't know, and now it's all I can think about and—” Rush feels every hair on his body stand on end when his double's speech suddenly cuts off and he hears another rustle, and a slide of skin, and a muffled groan.
Within two seconds he's inside Young's quarters, slamming his fist against the door control and panting angrily. Young and his double break away from each other and look at him with shock (Young) and anger (his twin).
“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” Rush demands. His heart is pounding in his throat, and all that keeps running through his mind is No, no, NO!
“Rush—” Young starts.
“This is none of your bloody business. Get out,” his double interjects, fury in his eyes.
“Like hell this is none of my business!” Rush shouts. “You stay the fuck away from him!” He's not even sure who he's talking to, Young or his double.
“You've no right to tell me what to do,” his twin sneers at him.
“And you have no right to my—” Rush bites off what he was going to say, because how the fuck is he going to follow that up with anything that isn't ridiculously incriminating?
“...Your what?” Young asks, oddly intent, and Rush can't help but flick his eyes over to the man. He's still standing much too close to his double, hand linked around his wrist, and Rush has to bite the inside of his cheek hard to keep from stomping over to them and yanking them apart.
This is none of his business. He doesn't care. Young can do whatever the fuck he wants, and so can his goddamn bastard of a double.
“Never mind,” he spits, turning on his heel. “I'm leaving.”
“Rush!” Young says from behind him, and before he knows what's happening Young's hand is on his arm, spinning him back. “This... I'm not...” Young seems to be looking for words, not sure how to say what he wants to say, or perhaps not even sure what he wants to say at all.
It doesn't matter, because Young's grip is strong on his bicep, and when Rush lets his gaze flicker down he sees Young is still holding his twin's wrist with his other hand, and damn it, Young is his.
He pushes forward roughly, snakes his free hand into Young's hair, and yanks him in for a kiss. It isn't until he hears the stifled moan Young makes into his mouth that he realizes what he's doing, and by then it's already too goddamn late, because Young's hand on him tightens and his tongue is fucking slick and hot and perfect, and yes, this is what he wants.
Rush isn't entirely clear on what his double's thought processes are – he certainly doesn't expect him to crowd into their space until he can wrap his arm around Young's side and press long, sucking kisses into his neck – but Young makes a sound so full of shock and arousal that Rush doesn't want anything but to hear it again. And perhaps... Sure, he could insist they talk about this, right now. Force Young into a choice, an ultimatum - 'him or me' - but in all honesty, he's not sure who Young would decide on. His double has been decidedly nicer, Rush thinks disdainfully. He's basically spent the last few weeks trying to crawl under Young's skin and into Young's bed, getting close to him. There's a good chance his twin might be more desirable to Young than Rush, who is still very much his untraumatized, ornery self. Young lets out an unsteady breath against Rush's lips as his double moans into the skin of his throat, and alright, maybe this is not the moment for talking and making Young choose. Maybe this is the moment for showing Young how good he can make him feel - how good the both of them can make him feel. It's fucking weird, but he figures he can go along with this. For now, at least.
The next few moments are a blur of bites and groans and tearing Young free of his uniform, and by the time Rush fully realizes he's about to have sex with his commanding officer and his twelve-hour older self he's so goddamn hard he doesn't even care anymore.
Young seems overwhelmed as he's pushed down on the bed, not quite sure what to say or who to touch, and Rush thinks he and his twin come to the quiet understanding that their main objective here is to make sure Young enjoys this enough not to dump both of them the moment he gets back to himself. Rush doesn't like sharing – not at all – but he'll agree to sharing Young tonight if it means Young will choose him afterwards. Because that's what he wants, he realizes. He wants Young. He wants Young to choose him, and to back him up against shortsighted US senators and HWC, and to fucking kiss him more. Jesus, in a way he's just as goddamn pathetic as his twin, needing to nearly lose Young to realize he truly doesn't want to.
Rush settles down on the bed next to Young and strokes a hand over the broad expanse of his bare chest. He refuses to give up Young's lips to his twin, keeps kissing Young like this is all he wants to do for the rest of his life – and it just may be – but he feels a sharp twinge of jealousy when his double scoots down lower until he's in between Young's legs. Rush watches as his twin takes hold of Young's cock, naked and hard and already moistening at the tip, and gives it a few exploratory strokes.
“Oh, fuck,” Young groans, and Rush is determined to distract him from what his twin is doing, so he captures his lips again and lets one hand tug on Young's thick dark curls while his other inches over his chest to circle and pluck at his nipple. Young moans against his mouth and presses into his touch, and Rush feels the corners of his lips curl upwards.
Young's hand comes up to touch his face, oddly hesitant for how far they've taken this already, and Rush lets Young angle his face a little to deepen the kiss. Suddenly Young is jerking back, a hard curse falling from his lips, and Rush glances down to see his double bent over Young, sucking Young's cock into his mouth.
“Jesus, oh my God,” Young pants, squeezing his eyes shut and letting his free hand land on his twin's head. Rush hears his double make a short moaning sound and watches with a dry mouth and hot surge of jealousy as he begins to set up a steady pace, lips gliding over Young's shaft, one hand curled around the base of Young's length and the other rubbing nonsensical patterns in the crease of Young's hip. He looks like he's enjoying it, and fuck, Rush really hates that his twin gets to be the first to do this to Young.
Young lets out a shaky little sound and turns Rush's face towards him again, and yeah, Rush decides as he leans in. His double can suck Young off all he wants, but Young is still going to be kissing him.
Everything feels hot and blurry, and Rush feels a trickle of sweat run down his spine only to get soaked up by the cotton of his t-shirts. His prick is straining against his trousers uncomfortably, but right now all he wants to focus on is Young and making sure that all Young focuses on is him. Which isn't that easy when his twin's blowjob is getting sloppier, the wet sounds getting louder and faster, and fuck, Young's tongue is growing slack, his breaths open-mouthed and heavy, his groans less intermittent.
“Colonel,” Rush says, letting the stubble on his cheek scratch over Young's lips. “Look at me.”
Young pants, opening his eyes and giving him a look so full of desire it takes Rush aback a little. It's clear he's right on the brink of orgasm, and fuck, he's beautiful.
“Rush, Rush, Nicholas, oh Jesus.” Rush feels an inordinate amount of pride that Young said his name first – said his name twice - and lets his hand slide up Young's throat and onto his jaw, preventing him from looking at where his twin is bobbing up and down his cock.
“You,” Rush says, nipping at Young's bottom lip harshly, “Are mine.”
Young squeezes his eyes shut and groans, and then his back is arching up, lifting off the bed as he comes down his twin's throat, and Christ, Rush knows he shouldn't be jealous – because who the hell even wants to swallow something like that – but then his double looks up at him with a dark smirk as he licks his lips, and goddammit.
Rush shoves his anger aside and focuses on pressing soft kisses into Young's mouth as the Colonel comes down from his orgasm. He relishes the way Young looks – sated and heavy-lidded and flushed. He's never seen the man like this before, and it gives him a vicious sense of satisfaction that his double doesn't know what he's missing, seeing as he's still flicking short, teasing licks over Young's cock.
Young shudders and moans a pained little sound, and only then does his twin pull away from his softening prick.
“Oh my God,” Young breathes out, gazing into Rush's eyes like he still can't believe any of this is truly happening. Rush feels a hot flare of fondness for the man and leans in to kiss him again. Young's hand comes up to cradle his head and Rush hums happily into his mouth, barely registering that his twin is stripping off his shirts and climbing on top of Young until he shoves his thigh between where Rush is pressed up against Young's side. Rush pulls back from the kiss to glare at his double, but something gives him pause.
He's never... he's never seen himself like this, lips wet and puffy and cheeks flushed with desire. Are his eyes really that dark? His body isn't... it's not something he is particularly proud of, but seeing his twin like this, straddling Young's hips, stripped from the waist up, prick curving out of his open trousers... God, is it narcissistic that it turns him on a bit?
The moment between them is broken when his double flicks his gaze over at Young and leans forward to kiss him, and Rush isn't sure whether he wants to tear the two of them apart or touch himself to the sight. His twin licks deeply into Young's mouth, moaning as he begins thrusting his hips into the flesh of Young's belly, and Jesus, shit, Rush is really fucking hard.
He quickly strips off his shirts and kicks off his shoes before wriggling out of his trousers and pants, and sidles up to Young's body again. His double is still kissing Young, seemingly getting lost in the heat of Young's mouth and the slide of his prick against Young's skin, and he doesn't do much more than make a protesting little sound when Rush grabs Young's right arm and guides it away from his double's denim-clad arse and onto Rush's cock.
Young makes a quiet noise and Rush curls his own fingers around Young's hand and begins stroking himself. He turns his face into Young's shoulder, sucks a few biting kisses into the hard bulge of muscle there, and keeps his eyes on his twin and Young kissing as he starts pushing into Young's fist. God, they look fucking hot, and from this side his double's scar isn't visible, so it's easy to pretend he's watching himself, like a very lifelike recording of himself and Young, and fuck.
“Colonel, Colonel,” his double pants against Young's lips, and Rush knows he's right on the edge, because... well, obviously he knows.
“Nicholas,” Young murmurs, and Rush feels a blindingly hot spark of lust skitter through his belly as his double cries out, surges up, and spurts come all over Young's abdomen and chest. Jesus, there's a visual.
Young's fingers tighten on him and Rush moans. His twin is panting on top of Young now, slumped against him, seemingly entirely unbothered that he's lying in his own come. He places a soft kiss against the underside of Young's jaw and then looks over at Rush.
Young's face is turned to Rush, too. He's looking at him with a dark, heated stare that makes Rush feel nervous and watched and so fucking turned on he can hardly think anymore. Young's left hand is sliding up his twin's neck, into the hair on the back of his head, but his right hand is still in Rush's grip, tight around his cock. Rush keeps fucking into it, and yeah, yeah, God, he's so close...
Young keeps looking at him, holding eye contact, and Rush feels laid open and bare under that gaze.
“Christ, you look good, Rush,” Young rumbles darkly, and Rush curses as his orgasm slams into him, hard and unforgiving.
“Fuck,” he hears himself croak, and then everything erupts into spasming pleasure. Hot bolts of satisfaction skitter over his skin, and when he opens his eyes he feels a sharp aftershock rocket through him. Both his twin and Young are staring at him, they just watched him come. Young's sated little smile is gorgeous, and there's a glint in his double's eyes – more than simple jealousy – that makes something trill low at the base of Rush's spine. He ignores it and focuses on Young, leans forward until he can kiss him again, and refuses to think about his twin kissing Young just minutes ago. Sucking him off and letting him taste himself. He's not thinking about his twin's tongue licking into Young's mouth, marking him with his own come.
He lets his eyes fall closed as Young kisses him back, soft and gentle and all around perfect, and Rush moans when a hand slides into his hair, scratching lightly at the back of his head – not to guide or direct him, just to make contact. He loves being touched like that after sex. Young's tongue is distracting enough that it takes him an embarrassingly long time to realize that Young's hand is still wrapped around his prick. His eyes shoot open, and yeah, fuck, it's his twin scratching light patterns into his scalp right now, giving him a look that is somewhere between speculative and insecure, and fuck, this is weird. Before he can decide how to react, though, his twin retracts his hand and rolls off of Young to grab his shirt from the floor beside the bed. He wipes off his chest, and then Young's, and then hands the dirty rag to Rush.
When they're all moderately clean again, Young's gaze keeps flicking between them uncertainly as he wriggles the covers out from under their bodies. Settling back in the bed, under the blankets this time, he keeps his gaze on the ceiling as he asks, “Are you going to stay?”
Rush isn't sure whether Young wants him to go or to stay, or whether he's talking to one or both of them, or anything, really. His twin looks over at Rush and gently brushes a hand through Young's hair, like he's a child. “Do you want us to go?”
Young looks at his double then, eyes impenetrable. “No.”
Rush watches his twin's face settle into a smile, and it's odd, because when was the last time he's seen himself smile? Too long ago, probably.
“Okay,” his double says, making eye contact with Rush again. “We're not going anywhere.” Then he slides under the covers as well and curls up against Young's side.
Rush watches them from where he's perched on the bed for a few seconds, and Young looks at him. There's something inquisitive in his stare, and Rush knows Young must think he needs some more convincing, because he reaches out his hand and rings it around Rush's wrist.
“Rush, come on,” he murmurs, sweeping his thumb over the thin skin on the inside of his wrist. Rush can hear the question underneath it loud and clear.
And... fine. It's not like he can leave right now anyway. Not with his twin still in Young's bed. And perhaps this isn't what he would've imagined for his first time sleeping with Young – sharing a bed and the Colonel with his own double – but there'll be time to rectify the situation later. If he leaves now, he'll cede Young to his twin, and he's not going to do that. Young is his.
He flips open the blanket and crawls in until he's pressed against Young's side. His twin has an arm slung over Young's stomach, and Rush can feel his hand against his abdomen. He ignores it and curls his own arm over Young's chest, up to his throat, until his fingers inch into the hair near his ear. He folds his leg around Young's upper thigh and lets Young wrap his arm around him until his head is lying in the crook of Young's shoulder.
It's strange, sharing a bed again after so many nights alone in his quarters. But Young is warm, and his twin is silent, and the warm glow from his orgasm hasn't dissipated yet.
Rush closes his eyes and lets himself fall asleep.