Better Safe than Sorry

[sg-slash]

На ключевую фразу  Jackie A.C.

Название: Better Safe than Sorry
Фандом: SGU (Stargate Universe)
Пэйринг: Янг/Раш
Рейтинг: PG
Авторские примечания: Фразу дали на английском и, в итоге, фик тоже получился на английском.
Спасибо Sage и Айе за бетинг.


«Better safe than sorry” - That was Young's creed, back on Earth. And he had always tried to do his best to fulfill it. In a world of endless competition it would never give him a big career in the military, accompanied with a personal driver, loads of money and a soft leather chair somewhere in Pentagon. He was perfectly ok with that. Better be the best among the average, doing what you can to serve and protect, than be obliged to give orders which would never allow you to escape endless guilt. That was a life he dreamed of, that was what he believed to be his destiny. Apparently he was wrong. Destiny had another plan for him. Could he ever imagine that destiny, his Destiny would materialize into a huge construction, a ship so ancient that it was almost scary, drifting on the edge of nowhere? No. Not even in his wildest dreams, or better say - worst nightmares.
Now Young is almost never safe, and almost always sorry. Whenever he sees Tamara and her eyes, so full of acceptance which he knows he doesn't deserve. Or when he drinks alone in his quarters, trying to chase away the exhaustion and devastating urge to lay down and just fall asleep, or better die, only to get rid of the responsibility, he knows is all his, and nobody else's. He hates feeling helpless, he hates loosing people to some “inevitable circumstances”, he hates to know, that there's nothing certain left, nothing steady, nothing to cling to except his will and duty.
He feels sorry looking at all these people he tries to lead, tries to keep their hopes high while his own is fading day by day.The only person he doesn't feel sorry for is Rush. The bastard does his best not to give him a reason to. And strangely, Young is thankful for that. At least, there's someone whom he can look at without a cringe in his chest. Rush seems to be made of sharp edges, sarcasm and disobedience. Safety is never an option when he is around. The curve of his lips is bitter, forming a sinister smile each time he's up to something, Young would, for sure, forbid him to do.But the sterness of restriction Young would give him doesn't matter. It never did. Like it hadn't now. Somehow, Young finds himself bruising that poisonous mouth with his own, silencing him with anger and lust, and receiving a mixture of just the same in response.

It feels so wrong, so perfectly wrong, a blasphemy, a mockery on everything he ever believed in or considered important, that he overindulges. Rush proves his name to be true, as their bodies collide, in a greedy, painful battle.
It neither feels safe, nor beautiful, nor right. But it does feel good to be this bad to someone without feeling sorry. At all.