Chapter Text
Getting into sanctuary allows the two of them a moment of quiet, away from the rest of their friends, and all the dangers that come with being on the road. Privacy is hard to come by when you’re sharing a caravan with four other people (sometimes five, for Rhys, but nobody else needs to know that).
So it doesn’t surprise Rhys when Patch wastes no time in leaning up on her toes to kiss him, before the motel door is even shut behind them. He nudges it closed with his foot, trying not to trip over his own feet when Patch presses against him insistently, fists balled in the front of his shirt.
“Patch – “ He’s cut off with her pecking his cheek and then dissolving into giggles, a light blush turning her cheeks pink. He feels himself staring down at her before he’s chuckling too, nervous and not sure where to put his hands. Because they’ve got a room to themselves for the first time, like, ever, and it was about a week ago when they first kissed, and who knows when they’re going to get a moment to themselves again.
Her hands are still curled around his jacket, thumbs rubbing circles into the material, and he feels so fond and content that his nervousness is thrown out the window and he’s resting his arms on her hips. There’s a dirty window on the wall next to them, and the iron bars going across it aren’t Rhys’ idea of romance, but Patch is so warm against him that all he wants to do is sink into the bed and bury his face in her neck and kiss her until they’re both out of breath.
“We should probably uh, close the curtains, right?” she says to him, once she notices him eying the window. Her face gets a bit pinker as she says it, biting her lip with a grin.
“You Pandorans really don’t waste any time, huh?”
“Sh-shut up, jerkwad!” she cries indignantly, taking a step back and punching him playfully on the arm.
“Ouch,” he mumbles, rubbing his shoulder and hoping he doesn’t look too pathetic. She huffs and keeps moving backwards, until her knees hit the back of the bed and she falls down onto it backwards. Her eyes go a bit wide, like she wasn’t expecting it, but then she’s looking back at him and brushing strands of blonde hair behind her ear.
“Don’t be such a baby,” she tells him, and starts shuffling her feet back and forth a bit. “Now get over here so we can cuddle. Among other things… Wink.”
The idea of cuddling does sound nice, among other things, of course, so he ducks over to close the blinds (admiring Patch’s snicker as he does so), and then turns to the bed. It’s large, just a mattress on a plain metal frame, and the sheets don’t look overly stained but they are sort of old looking and Rhys is often sceptical about most things on Pandora.
He has the right to be, really. The others often make fun of him for complaining all the time, but really he doesn’t complain all that much, and when he does its about things worth complaining about, such as huge, dangerous beasts that could easily crush and/or swallow the caravan whole.
“Are you sure that’s clean?” he asks, contemplating scanning it with his EchoEye. “Pandora might have a special species of bedbug or something. Like, ones that are as big as cars. You know how Pandoran wildlife can be.”
She just rolls her eyes, ignoring him completely in favour of patting her lap enthusiastically with both hands. He stares at her for a second, taken aback.
“Uh…” he says, standing in the middle of the small room awkwardly. “What?”
“C’mere!” She pats her lap again, wiggling around to make herself more comfortable where she’s sitting on the edge of the bed.
“You want me to… Sit down. On your lap.”
“Yeah!”
“Really? You want me to sit on your lap. And not the other way around.”
“What’s so hard to understand about that?” Her face falls a bit and then her brow is furrowed in concern. “Are you feeling okay? Did you hit your head or something and not tell me?”
“Wh- No!”
“Oh, okay good,” she tells him, letting out a breath of concern. “Because sometimes it’s kinda hard to tell if you’ve got a concussion or not. Hyperion people are pretty different from your average Pandoran, y’know.”
“Yes, Patch,” he says, and takes a few overly-casual steps to where she is on the bed. “I know that, because I am constantly reminded of it.” He stops once he gets to where she is, looking down at her, once again not sure what to do with himself. Patch must see the hesitation on his face, because a soft hand is reaching out for him and dragging him down onto the bed with her.
He starts falling too quickly, eyes growing wide as he shoots an arm out to catch himself on the mattress before he makes a complete fool of himself. “Oops,” mutters Patch, as Rhys moves a leg onto the bed. “Sorry.” She doesn’t sound very sorry. He tries to hide his pout as he swings another leg up over her lap, face flushing when she hums in glee.
Next to her, he always feels bigger, taller, limbs long and gangly. But now even more so. He doesn’t know where to put his legs, settling for just kneeling over the top of her, his feet resting at the very edge of the bed. It isn’t the most comfortable, because he’s straining to hold himself up and not rest all his weight on Patch’s lap. This is going to hurt if I keep this up.
“Am I crushing you?” he asks, worried about her petite body underneath him.
“Nope,” she tells him, now oblivious to his concern. Either that, or she just doesn’t care.
Her arms wrap around his lithe frame easily, forearms resting on his thighs, hands splayed over his back. Her fingers are spread out and she lazily rubs his back through his jacket. He feels too big and clumsy, but her arms are comforting, and her smile encouraging.
“Uh…” He clears his throat, leaning back on his haunches to look at her properly. “Can I kiss you?”
She nods enthusiastically, tilting her head back and angling herself towards him. He leans down and meets her, pressing their lips together and cupping her face with a hand, closing his eyes. The kissing is familiar, and Rhys thinks that maybe sitting on her lap isn’t the silliest thing in the world, because he’s still got a few inches on her and its almost as if they were standing. Except, y’know, you’re sitting in her lap. Which, hey, come to think of it, isn’t too bad. No wonder girls like doing this so much. Is that weird? Probably not.
That whole line of thought is derailed when he feels her hands sliding down his back, and a cheeky smile against his mouth, and her small hands are squeezing his ass. He makes a noise of surprise, then smiles into the kiss, lowering himself into her lap firmly. She puts a hand on his thigh encouragingly, and he takes it as a sign to grind his hips down, deciding to throw his remaining scraps of pride to the wind.
“Damn, cupcake! Didn’t really peg you as the cowgirl type.”
Rhys’ eyes fly open, squeaking into Patch’s mouth. His limbs flail for a second as he leaps back, still kneeling over Patch. His vision is instantly drawn to the bright blue hologram standing a few feet away, arms crossed and a dumb, shit-eating grin on his stupid handsome face.
“Well,” Jack adds, looking thoughtful. “Actually, yeah. I did. I mean, she tells you to get on her lap, and you don’t even hesitate? Can’t say I’m surprised, Rhysie.”
Rhys tries to put as much distance between himself and Jack as possible, caught off guard and humiliated. “God-“ Whatever Rhys was planning on saying next is cut off with a yell as he falls backwards, off the bed and off of Patch. There’s the horrible feeling of falling through the air and then his back is hitting the hard floor.
He’s winded, clenching his eyes shut. He registers Jack cackling at him, and Patch leaping off the bed, sounding panicked and confused. He gasps in air, wincing at the pain in his limbs and the overall feeling of breathlessness. His head is hurting, which is more from annoyance and embarrassment than any physical injury.
When he cracks his eyes open again, he’s staring at the water-stained ceiling, and Patch and Jack are both leaning over him. Patch is giving him a look of concern, hands hovering over his body, and Jack looks sleazy and amused as always. When their eyes meet for a second, Rhys tears his gaze back away to look at the roof, and Jack starts chuckling lowly. Smug bastard.
“Rhys?” Patch is tentative, stray pieces of her hair hanging down over her face. “Are you okay? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have, uh, s-squeezed your butt like that – “
Rhys doesn’t get to hear what she says next because Jack barks out a sudden laugh that has Rhys wincing.
“Oh my god,” he says, pointing his thumb back at an oblivious Patch. “She won’t even say ‘ass’. And you two were gonna bang?”
“Oh, gross,” Rhys mutters, feeling deeply uncomfortable. Jack had a habit of popping up at the most inconvenient times, and Rhys should have known better than to have hoped for a few hours of quiet time, just him and Patch.
“Is your head hurt?” Patch has placed the back of her hand to his forehead, as if trying to see if he has a fever. “Rhys, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”
“No, Patch,” he says, trying so hard to only focus on her and not Jack, who is very close right now. “It wasn’t you, I just, uh… Don’t feel good right now.”
It’s a shitty lie and he’s worried she’ll see right through it, what with being one of the few “doctors” in Pandora that he’s come across. But she just nods in understanding, lips thin from the way she’s pressing them together in worry.
“Maybe we could just… Not do this tonight?” It pains him to say it, because who knows when they’ll get another opportunity for some, ahem, alone time together. But he really doesn’t want their first time together to be with Handsome Jack in the room, and it’s made even worse with the fact that Patch doesn’t even know he’s there.
He watches as Jack throws his arms in the air in disappointment. “Aw, come on, Rhys, don’t be a prude! The show was just getting started!”
That makes the heat in his cheeks grow even worse, the idea of Jack actually enjoying watching the two of them. Rhys thinks back on the past few minutes and wonders how long Jack was standing there silently, watching the way Rhys sat in her lap, the way they kissed. If he saw Patch grab his ass, if he noticed how Rhys desperately grinded his hips into her thighs –
“That’s okay,” Patch is saying, her hand resting on his. “If I’m being honest, seeing you fall flat on your butt kinda ruined the mood.”
“Okay, well, it wasn’t my ass, it was my back. I thought you were supposed to be some medical professional, you can’t even tell the difference between my ass and my back?”
She laughs at that, kneeling and then standing, holding onto his hand to help him up alongside her. “We can just cuddle,” she says, and as an afterthought she leans up on her toes and plants a small kiss on his cheek. He ignores the exaggerated noise of disgust that Jack makes somewhere behind them.
Cuddling he can do. Jack has already seen them cuddling, just on the couch in the caravan together, and that’s probably boring enough that Jack will piss back off to wherever he goes when he isn’t busy annoying Rhys.
He moves to sit down on the bed, but looks back up at Patch to see that she’s unbuttoning her coat. He watches in horror, hoping she’ll stop there, but then she starts pulling off her shirt, too.
“Oh,” Jack pipes up, “now this is more like it.”
“Uh,” Rhys says, probably a bit louder than he needs to be. He scrambles over the bed to get to Patch, putting his hands over the top of hers to prevent her from taking her shirt off completely. “What- What are you doing?”
She just stares at him like he’s an idiot. It’s a look he gets often. “Uhm… Taking my clothes off?”
It’s a dumb answer to a dumb question, but Rhys doesn’t mention that. “Yeah but- I thought we were just, y’know, cuddling.”
“We are,” she assures him, as sweet as ever, “its just kinda hot and these clothes are kinda dirty so… We’d both be more comfortable if we just took ‘em off.”
“Yeah, Rhys, her clothes are dirty.” Jack has made his way over to stand behind Patch, not trying to hide the way his eyes go up and down her body. “If the girl wants to take her clothes off then I say we should let her!”
We. A shiver goes down Rhys’ spine.
He wants to hiss back that Jack has no say in this, but Patch would notice for sure, and she can be a bit dense sometimes but she isn’t that stupid. Most of the time.
“Let me,” he says instead, hoping he looks more composed than he feels. He nudges his fingers at the hem of her shirt, until she moves her hands away and he can start sliding the top up her skinny chest. He really only offered to undress her so that she could shield her from Jack’s gaze, which still looks like that of a starving animal, but it doesn’t mean he can’t appreciate the way it feels to move his hands up her body and watch her skin be revealed to him.
He wants to take his time but the sooner she’s undressed, the sooner she can be under the covers and away from Jack. The man in question must have caught on to what Rhys is doing, because he’s shaking his head in annoyance, voice taking on a sharp tone.
“Rhys,” he starts, sighing, “I’m not tryna steal her away from you, honest. I mean, she isn’t even my type, but hey, I’m not picky! Can’t a man just admire some artwork every now and then?”
Rhys doesn’t even give Jack a glance, just twists Patch around in his arms until he’s between her and Jack. He flings her shirt onto the ground, hearing her giggle and say something about having to tidy up later, and moves to take off her skirt. The buttons are fiddly, and he has to lean down a bit to see what he’s doing. Patch hums and puts her hand in his hair, and when the skirt drops to the ground she steps out of it, flicking it across the room with her foot.
“So,” she murmurs, turning to face him. That cheeky smile is back on her face. “You gonna take yours off, or what?”
Rhys doesn’t really know what to say, too lost in the gentle curves of her waist and how soft her thighs look, but then there’s a fuzzy sensation in his vision and when it clears up, he sees Jack has gone back behind her and is leaning down to get a better look at her ass.
Rhys’ mind goes blank and he acts without thinking, scooping Patch up in his arms and dashing over to the bed. Patch gasps and lets out a whoop, giggling at the way he drops her onto the mattress and hurriedly climbs in with her. He’s tearing the covers back and then covering the both of them with it. He’s breathing heavily at the end of it. The blush on his face still hasn’t gone away.
“What was that?” she asks, giggling and flustered. “Kinda spazzed out on me back there, Hyperion. Didn’t even know you were strong enough to lift me.”
“You barely weigh anything,” he remarks, just relieved that she’s hidden away from Jack. He isn’t jealous, really. Well. Maybe he is, but the thought of Patch being seen by a complete stranger, who she doesn’t even know is in the room, makes his skin crawl. Well, they all know who Handsome Jack is, which probably only makes it worse.
“So… You gonna undress or what? Cause you look cool and all but your clothes are all dusty and I’m pretty sure there’s, uh, fresh blood on your sleeve, so…”
“Oh.” He has to get undressed to. “Right.” In front of Jack.
Jack must be thinking the same thing. “Come on, Rhys,” he goads, at the very edge of Rhys’ peripheral vision. “Not like I haven’t seen it all before. Well, seen most of it.”
Rhys hates that Jack is correct, technically. It would be hard not to see Rhys naked, considering they’re stuck together at all times. Rhys is still hesitant, though, even as he shuffles under the covers so he can step out of the bed. Patch turns to watch him, face half-hidden in the crook of her bare shoulder. Her bra strap looks sort of worn, like it would be so easy to just lean over and rip it off her entirely –
Oh, come on, dude. Focus. No sexytimes. The last thing you need right now is a boner to add to the whole mess of today.
He opens up his jacket and slides it down his shoulders, hanging it on the bedpost. As he does so, he kicks off his shoes, stumbling over his own feet and nearly tripping over, arms flailing.
“Nice one, slick,” Jack drawls, at the same time Patch laughs in amusement.
“Shut up,” Rhys replies, stuck halfway between resentment and fondness.
His shoes are shoved aside, leaving behind his colourful socks that (thankfully) nobody comments on. His tie is loosened, joining the pile of clothes, and then he starts on unbuttoning his shirt. He opens it up, feeling the air hit his chest, which is a relief after the stifling heat of Pandora. His fingers falter when Jack lets out a loud whistle, and he shoots him a quick glare from across the room, balling up his shirt and throwing it at him. Rhys is pleased when Jack disappears for a second, and then shows up a second later looking mildly annoyed, but mainly amused.
Rhys gets rid of the pants quickly, shoving them down his long legs and trying not to get them stuck on his feet. He’s sure that if it was possible, Jack would lean over and smack his ass, just to see him jump.
“Not too shabby, cupcake,” Jack quips, making Rhys’ stomach churn. Jack is an asshole, its undeniable, but Rhys still feels guilty at the way that his chest warms up at the praise he’s given. Maybe the fact that Jack is Pandora’s biggest asshole is what makes the compliment feel so special, not to mention that Jack was (and arguably still is) Rhys’ idol. The guilt mixes inside of him alongside something else, something darker and more confusing, and he chooses to ignore it in favour of cuddling with Patch.
He wastes no time going back to bed, pushing Patch aside gently so that he could crawl in under the covers. He lets out a breath, and hey, this bed is actually pretty comfortable. Small arms wrap around him, and there’s another kiss planted on his cheek, and then his neck. He huffs a laugh, kissing her temple, as they twist around until Patch has her back pressed up against his bare chest.
“Hey Rhys,” she mumbles sleepily, “’m gonna take a nap… Just wake me up if you’re dying, ‘kay?”
“Okay,” he mumbles back, pressing his face into her blonde hair. She’s so warm, like the heaters back on Helios, but more comforting and certainly more huggable.
“Aw,” Jack says from where he’s standing in front of them, arms crossed. “Isn’t this sweet. Maybe I’ll just leave you two lovebirds alone. Gotta get your beauty sleep, Rhys. Not that you need it, of course.”
Rhys silently raises his metal arm, flipping Jack off. He expects Jack to laugh in his face, make another rude gesture back. But instead he just stares for a moment, faint smile on his face, before he winks and the hologram starts flickering.
“Seeya later, cupcake.”
And then Jack is gone, and Rhys is left alone with Patch pressed against him and an uncomfortable feeling in his gut.