Working on the water purifier was a pain in the ass, but it had its advantages. Sure, the metal'd heat up in the sun and burn your hands if you leaned on it wrong, and the filter stank like hell, but from his position on top of it Sturges could see the returning party before they got home.
Returns were always dicey. Depended on exactly how many parts of how many people came back. Sturges waited on top of his perch and smoked his cigarette, watching the party until they came closer, counting heads and limbs.
The Minutemen's new general, unmistakable even from a distance, was brandishing something, a handful of big ol' claws jutting out from a fist and making for one damn mean punch. There was the skinny little merc from Goodneighbor, and Valentine, and the rotten bruiser who'd drank Sturges under the table before she'd left and won his money in a series of drunk bets, and walking along with them all was Preston. The exhaustion in the line of his shoulders was visible even from a distance, but he was there.
It was the work of a moment to fit his patched and soldered panel back in place and to shimmy down from the top of the purifier, one muddy boot on the pump case and the other on the support and then both in the river. When he hit the power switch it kicked into life with a groan. Behave for me, little lady, he thought with a little desperation, but the sludgy murmur of the pump purred along without any clanks or thumps or leaks.
Job done, he clambered up the cracked clay of the river bed and headed back to his house, and damn if that wasn't still a luxury, new homeowner's pride making him waste valuable seconds to wipe the silt off his boots before entering. He hit the water heater switch to set it running, and made some arrangements that needed making. Rummaging through his kitchen cabinets (paint long since peeled, and hell if that wasn't another entry on the unending list of shit that needed doing), he found a pitcher and a couple of mismatched glasses, chipped but usable. Vanity made him run his hands through his hair to fix it from the sweat-stiff mess of the day's work; humility instantly punished him for it, only too belatedly remembering the grease on his hands. It was just that kinda day, he supposed.
"You're a sight for sore eyes," Preston said when he met them by the bridge, and when Sturges handed him a glass of water fresh from the purifier, his smile set the corners of his eyes to crinkling.
"Get up to anything interesting?"
Preston opened his mouth, then shut it again. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
They peeled off of the rest of the group, leaving them to wet their whistles; in Cait's case, sunburn peeling across her nose, by dunking her head under the tap. The two of them threw small talk back and forth as Preston followed Sturges back home, and the sight of Preston knocking the dust off of his boots before crossing the threshold made something rise inside Sturges' chest, some weight taken from him.
Sturges whistled as Preston took off his coat, settling it to the side. "Any new scars?"
He got a set of rolled eyes in reply, but they came with a smile. "Is that something you'd like?"
"I don't know," Sturges grinned. "Might be kinda dashing."
"I'll keep that in mind during the next gunfight."
Rolling papers in hand, Sturges sat on the skinny edge of the bathtub as Preston got in and rinsed himself off, cold water turning brown before it even hit the bottom of the tub. When most of the trail dust had been sluiced off, runoff flowing through the pipes and out onto Sturges' burgeoning backyard melon patch, he stuck in the plug and let the tub fill. When Preston finally leaned back in the tub, eyes falling shut with the luxury of hot water, Sturges reached out and stuck a lit cigarette between his lips.
Preston opened one eye, fixing it on Sturges. "So are you gonna get in, too? Or do I have to say please?"
"Nothin' wrong with using your manners." He cocked his head. "But is that a polite way of sayin' that I need a bath?"
"You could use one. You've got a little something in your hair."
"Oh, well, in that case..."
The tub wasn't huge, but Sturges didn't exactly mind getting a little cozy. Water poured out of the over-filled tub as he climbed in, legs muddled up with Preston's, ankles digging into Preston's hips.
"A waste of water," Preston tutted.
"When you think about it, we're doubling up. That's got to save water."
"Oh, well. No-one can argue with that."
It was cramped and a little awkward, thighs overlapping thighs and their knees up out of the water, but it was good, one of those moments that made everything else worth it. Sturges let himself relax, leaning back against the rim of the tub, and snagged one of Preston's feet, rolling his thumb against the ball of his foot.
They'd known each other for long enough for Sturges to see where the look in Preston's eyes was leading. At the same time, though, his expression may have said I want you, but the bags under his eyes were saying I want to sleep for a week.
"We don't have to, y'know. Not if you're tired."
"Babe," Preston said, voice strained. "Get over here."
"One sec." With a flourish, Sturges leaned over and lifted one of the towels he'd stacked on top of a nearby crate, revealing a tube of lubricant.
The look that Preston gave him was equal parts warm and exasperated, and Sturges loved it. "You really do think of everything, don't you?"
"Hey, I'm a practical fella," was all that Sturges got out, and then Preston was shifting, moving forward until they were chest to chest, that familiar weight pressing Sturges down against the cracked porcelain, Preston's mouth on his.
Most days, Sturges liked playing that role, pinning Preston down on a mattress and giving him everything that he could, but there was no chance of that right now. Preston moved like he'd been wanting nothing but this for days, and Sturges wasn't particularly inclined to object to whatever pretty pictures the man had built in his head.
Said pretty pictures probably took place somewhere a little more amenable than a half-full tub, but all logistical problems had fixes, and that was what Sturges was best at. It wasn't the most elegant solution, hips barely arched up out of the water with Preston's fingers inside him, knees scraping the bottom of the tub, his wet hair down in his eyes, but at that moment he wouldn't have traded it for a dozen perfectly working water purifiers.
The shortness of Preston's movements, too tired for teases and flourishes, didn't hide the need that was driving them. Preston dropped kisses to the back of Sturges' neck, and when he slid inside, Sturges could feel Preston's sharp inhalation ghost across his wet skin with a chill.
And then it was just the two of them, like Preston had never left; Sturges rocking back under Preston, Preston's hands steady but somehow desperate on Sturges' hips, calloused hands holding him tight. "I missed you, you know that?" Sturges managed, breath coming short, and when Preston let out a shaky little wordless noise, he let out a chuckle and tilted his head to the side for a kiss.
He could tell when Preston had reached his limit, hands coming up from Sturges' hips to clutch at his chest, pressing down against his back to hold him close. Sturges rocked back against him, hips arching up as best he could, until Preston was coming, his mouth open and panting against Sturges' shoulder, his thighs shaking.
"Turn over," he murmured despite his state, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion and satisfaction. "Let me see."
"Awful bossy of you," Sturges laughed, but obliged. His ass in Preston's lap, one leg slung over the edge of the tub, he bought himself off, Preston's hands stroking the muscles of his thighs.
The sun was coming down, and Preston was back again, and no-one had stuck their heads in through the hole in Sturges' living room to yell that the purifier was all busted up again.
Maybe the next expedition out of Sanctuary wouldn't be so lucky, but for now, life was pretty good.
The sound of Preston's breathing slowing caught his attention, drawing him from his thoughts. "Okay, up and at 'em, champ. No sleeping in the tub."
"Just a short nap?" Preston's attempt at beguiling eyes was cut short by a towel to the face. "Oof. Okay, fine."
Finally out of the cooling water, Preston sighed at the touch of freshly-washed towels as only someone who'd been in the field for weeks could. "I missed you too, you know."
"Are you sayin' that to me, or the fluffy towels?" With a grin, Sturges tugged the towel down over Preston's smile. "Yeah, I kinda got that. Now scoot your butt to bed before you fall over in my damn bathroom."
"Sir, yes, sir," Preston said, faux military sharp, and then leaned over and gave Sturges a decidedly un-military kiss.
Fic: All the time, anywhere (Preston/Sturges, explicit, shameless fluff)
Returns were always dicey. Depended on exactly how many parts of how many people came back. Sturges waited on top of his perch and smoked his cigarette, watching the party until they came closer, counting heads and limbs.
The Minutemen's new general, unmistakable even from a distance, was brandishing something, a handful of big ol' claws jutting out from a fist and making for one damn mean punch. There was the skinny little merc from Goodneighbor, and Valentine, and the rotten bruiser who'd drank Sturges under the table before she'd left and won his money in a series of drunk bets, and walking along with them all was Preston. The exhaustion in the line of his shoulders was visible even from a distance, but he was there.
It was the work of a moment to fit his patched and soldered panel back in place and to shimmy down from the top of the purifier, one muddy boot on the pump case and the other on the support and then both in the river. When he hit the power switch it kicked into life with a groan. Behave for me, little lady, he thought with a little desperation, but the sludgy murmur of the pump purred along without any clanks or thumps or leaks.
Job done, he clambered up the cracked clay of the river bed and headed back to his house, and damn if that wasn't still a luxury, new homeowner's pride making him waste valuable seconds to wipe the silt off his boots before entering. He hit the water heater switch to set it running, and made some arrangements that needed making. Rummaging through his kitchen cabinets (paint long since peeled, and hell if that wasn't another entry on the unending list of shit that needed doing), he found a pitcher and a couple of mismatched glasses, chipped but usable. Vanity made him run his hands through his hair to fix it from the sweat-stiff mess of the day's work; humility instantly punished him for it, only too belatedly remembering the grease on his hands. It was just that kinda day, he supposed.
"You're a sight for sore eyes," Preston said when he met them by the bridge, and when Sturges handed him a glass of water fresh from the purifier, his smile set the corners of his eyes to crinkling.
"Get up to anything interesting?"
Preston opened his mouth, then shut it again. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
They peeled off of the rest of the group, leaving them to wet their whistles; in Cait's case, sunburn peeling across her nose, by dunking her head under the tap. The two of them threw small talk back and forth as Preston followed Sturges back home, and the sight of Preston knocking the dust off of his boots before crossing the threshold made something rise inside Sturges' chest, some weight taken from him.
Sturges whistled as Preston took off his coat, settling it to the side. "Any new scars?"
He got a set of rolled eyes in reply, but they came with a smile. "Is that something you'd like?"
"I don't know," Sturges grinned. "Might be kinda dashing."
"I'll keep that in mind during the next gunfight."
Rolling papers in hand, Sturges sat on the skinny edge of the bathtub as Preston got in and rinsed himself off, cold water turning brown before it even hit the bottom of the tub. When most of the trail dust had been sluiced off, runoff flowing through the pipes and out onto Sturges' burgeoning backyard melon patch, he stuck in the plug and let the tub fill. When Preston finally leaned back in the tub, eyes falling shut with the luxury of hot water, Sturges reached out and stuck a lit cigarette between his lips.
Preston opened one eye, fixing it on Sturges. "So are you gonna get in, too? Or do I have to say please?"
"Nothin' wrong with using your manners." He cocked his head. "But is that a polite way of sayin' that I need a bath?"
"You could use one. You've got a little something in your hair."
"Oh, well, in that case..."
The tub wasn't huge, but Sturges didn't exactly mind getting a little cozy. Water poured out of the over-filled tub as he climbed in, legs muddled up with Preston's, ankles digging into Preston's hips.
"A waste of water," Preston tutted.
"When you think about it, we're doubling up. That's got to save water."
"Oh, well. No-one can argue with that."
It was cramped and a little awkward, thighs overlapping thighs and their knees up out of the water, but it was good, one of those moments that made everything else worth it. Sturges let himself relax, leaning back against the rim of the tub, and snagged one of Preston's feet, rolling his thumb against the ball of his foot.
They'd known each other for long enough for Sturges to see where the look in Preston's eyes was leading. At the same time, though, his expression may have said I want you, but the bags under his eyes were saying I want to sleep for a week.
"We don't have to, y'know. Not if you're tired."
"Babe," Preston said, voice strained. "Get over here."
"One sec." With a flourish, Sturges leaned over and lifted one of the towels he'd stacked on top of a nearby crate, revealing a tube of lubricant.
The look that Preston gave him was equal parts warm and exasperated, and Sturges loved it. "You really do think of everything, don't you?"
"Hey, I'm a practical fella," was all that Sturges got out, and then Preston was shifting, moving forward until they were chest to chest, that familiar weight pressing Sturges down against the cracked porcelain, Preston's mouth on his.
Most days, Sturges liked playing that role, pinning Preston down on a mattress and giving him everything that he could, but there was no chance of that right now. Preston moved like he'd been wanting nothing but this for days, and Sturges wasn't particularly inclined to object to whatever pretty pictures the man had built in his head.
Said pretty pictures probably took place somewhere a little more amenable than a half-full tub, but all logistical problems had fixes, and that was what Sturges was best at. It wasn't the most elegant solution, hips barely arched up out of the water with Preston's fingers inside him, knees scraping the bottom of the tub, his wet hair down in his eyes, but at that moment he wouldn't have traded it for a dozen perfectly working water purifiers.
The shortness of Preston's movements, too tired for teases and flourishes, didn't hide the need that was driving them. Preston dropped kisses to the back of Sturges' neck, and when he slid inside, Sturges could feel Preston's sharp inhalation ghost across his wet skin with a chill.
And then it was just the two of them, like Preston had never left; Sturges rocking back under Preston, Preston's hands steady but somehow desperate on Sturges' hips, calloused hands holding him tight. "I missed you, you know that?" Sturges managed, breath coming short, and when Preston let out a shaky little wordless noise, he let out a chuckle and tilted his head to the side for a kiss.
He could tell when Preston had reached his limit, hands coming up from Sturges' hips to clutch at his chest, pressing down against his back to hold him close. Sturges rocked back against him, hips arching up as best he could, until Preston was coming, his mouth open and panting against Sturges' shoulder, his thighs shaking.
"Turn over," he murmured despite his state, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion and satisfaction. "Let me see."
"Awful bossy of you," Sturges laughed, but obliged. His ass in Preston's lap, one leg slung over the edge of the tub, he bought himself off, Preston's hands stroking the muscles of his thighs.
The sun was coming down, and Preston was back again, and no-one had stuck their heads in through the hole in Sturges' living room to yell that the purifier was all busted up again.
Maybe the next expedition out of Sanctuary wouldn't be so lucky, but for now, life was pretty good.
The sound of Preston's breathing slowing caught his attention, drawing him from his thoughts. "Okay, up and at 'em, champ. No sleeping in the tub."
"Just a short nap?" Preston's attempt at beguiling eyes was cut short by a towel to the face. "Oof. Okay, fine."
Finally out of the cooling water, Preston sighed at the touch of freshly-washed towels as only someone who'd been in the field for weeks could. "I missed you too, you know."
"Are you sayin' that to me, or the fluffy towels?" With a grin, Sturges tugged the towel down over Preston's smile. "Yeah, I kinda got that. Now scoot your butt to bed before you fall over in my damn bathroom."
"Sir, yes, sir," Preston said, faux military sharp, and then leaned over and gave Sturges a decidedly un-military kiss.
Yeah, life was definitely good.