Rivalry: Tech/Crosshair x Reader

"Do I make myself clear?" Hunter's voice has a biting edge to it, and he stares at you with authority. His fists are on his hips as he addresses you privately outside the ship, and you feel like an ashamed child. There's no explanation for it all, as you're still trying to figure it all out yourself. But he has sensed the increased complexity of whatever all this is, as well as the potential impact it may be having on his squad, and it's his duty to put a stop to it.

"Yes, sir," you answer, swallowing and looking down. "I'm sorry. I really don't know..."

"Just get it together."

"Yes, sir."

***

Part of you feels relieved, because this whole thing has turned into a huge mess. You struggle in vain to sort out your feelings, but it's all overshadowed by the fact that you're going back to your assigned medical bay soon, so there isn't much flexibility in future plans. You take a deep breath, increasing your resolve, and go to find Crosshair. 

You find him alone in the utility corridor, arranging his weapons kit in a locker on the wall. He closes it and remains facing it, turning his head slightly to the side but not meeting your eyes. "Something on your mind, sweetheart?" Hot damn, his voice is like melted chocolate. But you can't think of that now.

"We've got to stop all of this," you insist, "Hunter's orders."

He stands taller, turning to face you head-on, and the fullness of his presence hits you like a brick wall. He approaches slowly, like a cat stalking a mouse, and you can see this is going to backfire in your face if you don't stop it. 

"Listen," you begin, but he is upon you all at once, head bending down and placing one slender finger gently on your lips, trapping any further words.

"Is that what you want?" he asks, dropping his hand from your face to rest on one of your hips, sending an electric current through your body. He leans in, bringing his lips to your neck, and you are helpless to resist. Your heart beats wildly against your chest as he traces his lips down the curve, toward your collarbone, his breath causing goosebumps to spring up. "Tell me," he says again, placing one gentle kiss on your collarbone, then moving back up your neck, trailing kisses up to your ear.

"Crosshair," you say breathlessly, fighting to maintain any sense of self-control or focus. But you have to admit... this is exactly what you want, and more, if you're honest. So when he gives your ear the tiniest pull with his teeth, Hunter's demands are the farthest thing from your mind. He takes your hands in his, pushing you back against another locker, pinning your hands above your head with his own. 

"I like the way you say my name," he whispers. And then he kisses you. You thought he had been intense about it before, but this was another level. He lets go of your hands, grasping your hips, and you drop your arms around his neck, one hand nestling up into his soft gray hair. Your fingers tighten around a chunk of hair, almost instinctively, and you hear a low growl rumble in his chest. 

That does something to both of you, and the passion is set loose as hands rove and mouths meet, again and again. It feels like an eternity and also like the blink of an eye, and you're lost in his scent and touch and taste. 

But suddenly, a voice breaks the silence.

"What are you doing?!" comes Tech's question, slightly louder than necessary and laced with shock, hurt, anger, and indignation. 

You break away, pushing Crosshair back with a gasp. He saunters back a few steps, bringing a thumb to wipe his lips, staring at Tech smugly. "Medical procedures," he hissed cynically. 

Tech is speechless, eyes flying back and forth between the two of you, and he turns and disappears back the way he came. You feel a panic starting to rise, and you follow after him, with one glance back at a still-smiling Crosshair.

***

You find him out in the forest nearby, a decent distance from where the ship was parked. He is analyzing a vine wrapped around a tree trunk with his visor and tapping on his datapad with a bit more force than is probably necessary. 

"Tech," you begin, coming closer. 

"Your behavior is confusing and unacceptable," he interrupts, flipping his visor up angrily. 

"I know," you admit, opening your hands at your sides in a gesture of surrender. "I didn't mean..."

"I told you," he interjects again, "I had romantic intentions. What kind of response is it to then go and engage in physical intimacy with my brother?"

"I wasn't there to..."

"Your intentions are irrelevant. The actions speak for themselves," Tech reprimands, rummaging in his utility pouch and producing a small holo puck. He clicks the side with a jerk of frustration, and a series of holographs flash before your eyes. It is an assortment of moments that you and he shared, clearly curated to preserve and convey the delight he felt in your laugh, his awe at your intelligence, and his growing affection for you as a whole. "I was going to share this with you tonight and had further plans for... Well, it doesn't matter."

"I'm so sorry," you breathe, feeling the tears well up in your eyes. You didn't mean for this to get so incredibly convoluted. It's time to stop playing the victim and get a hold of yourself. 

"I am sorry as well," Tech responds, a hint of softness in his voice now as he clicks the holo off and places the puck in your hands, folding your fingers over it gently. "But we shall move on."

***

That night finds everyone in their own space on the ship, and you are tucked away as far into your corner as you can manage, hiding behind your med pack, needlessly straightening the tools within. You have to fix this. 

You rise to your feet, walking quickly to Crosshair's bunk and knocking quietly. You brace yourself for the upcoming encounter, keeping the pain on Tech's face and the demand in Hunter's voice firmly in your mind. The door whooshes open, and Crosshair stands before you in his blacks, folding his arms. 

"Back for more?" he smirks.

"No," you say, emphatically this time. "This has to stop. All of it. I mean it."

He raises an eyebrow, and you see a flash of hurt across his face before he carefully arranges it into bored tolerance. He takes a few steps back, arms remaining folded, and responds in a voice that's as cold as it is flat, "Whatever you want, sweetheart." 

The door slides shut, leaving you standing there with a heavy heart. It feels impossible to tell if he was just toying with your affections this whole time, or if there is something underneath it all. You shake your head, refusing to entertain the thoughts, and return to your quarters. 

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