goddamngrenades | RP Open Post

"Cuz it gets cold in the dome and she worries."

"Your mother knows she's not, in fact, Mrs. Weasley, right?"

Out cold. He figured if Wash had the time he'd curl up in a nest and just pass out like he used to on the MOI. Neither of them have really ever been in a place where it was safe to do that for the past couple of years, though. He's not surprised.

QUiet as he can manage (which is pretty damn) he closes the door behind him and sets the tray on the nightstand before reaching out to smooth the hair away from David's eyes. "Hey. Have a good lazy morning?"

"Nope, she's Doctor Murray and she'll knit you something ot keep you warm if it kills her." He snorts a laugh, elbowing Malcolm. "Come on, what's the harm?"

"It's a bit silly. And, I don't know...something about spontaneously getting gifts from your mother just seems like it's a little...familiar? Did you pick up knitting from her?"

He barely notices when York returns, which is probably a testament to how much he actually needs the sleep. How much he trusts York is probably closer to the mark though. He doesn't normally sleep as much as he has done.

He stirs a little when York strokes his hair, opening one eye, cat-like, to stare at him. "Mmmm. How were the kids? You're in one piece."

"Palomo's a good shot, Smith is better. Bitters is good at mid range, like you, and Jensen continues to surprise me by being a good all arounder. Also, wicked with knives. I've put her with Kimball on training up with Connie's tricks. Took her to the quartermaster to pick out her first throwing knife." It'd made him kind of proud, really. She reminds him a little of Connie, all quiet and observant and wickedly competent when possible.

"She's mad I'm better at it than she is." His sweaters turn out fantastic, even if they take forever to make. "You're my partner. That makes you family."

It's nice normal stuff to hear. Better than he would have managed to get out of them, even if he'd wanted to actually help out before. York is good for them, good for everything. A safe pair of hands.

There's a kind of peace in it, in knowing what he's going to do, in having this planned out. It'll hurt like hell, assuming he survives. But it's the right thing. He hasn't had that certainty for a long time.

As it is, he reaches out to drag York back down for a kiss. "I think you've adopted."

"It makes me your partner. Though I suppose if I know every little thing about you, then I'd be something like family by default."

"Mmm." He pulls away from the kiss to nuzzle David's cheek, fingers smoothing from his hair to his shoulder to his arm- just touching. Reveling in having someone to touch, in being allowed to touch. "I think they'll be ready to check out the closest village for the public records on the military bases next week. I'll run recon, make sure we're clear but it'll be a milk run. Easy."

Something they can look into with low risk, high reward. "probably be able to pick up some supplies then too."

"Mhmm. DOn't fight it. Embrace it." He settles back against the pillows, watching the action unfold on screen.

"Bit of a foreign concept, that. But I'll...try to keep an open mind. Literally and figuratively."

York isn't alone in that. Wash's hands wander, smoothing down from shoulder to fingers, across what he can reach of York's chest. It's somewhere between a caress and checking to see that he's unhurt. That's he's still alive and real and here.

He rolls his eyes at the comment though. "Don't say that. You never say that. You have just guaranteed that everything is going to go wrong."

"I dunno, last time I said that you found me." So it can't be that bad. He slides up into the bed, tugging the tray across their laps. It's a little cramped but if he shifts just so and tucks himself up against David's side it's not half bad. "C'mon, food time. Then it's another round of drills for me."

"I also nearly shot you," Wash reminds him.

It takes a bit of wriggling and squishing up to get them to both fit; the bed was never made for two, but they manage it and it's comfortable if a little awkward.

"Lunch in bed. I'll start thinking that you're a romantic if you're not careful."

"Relax. We'll be okay. It's just a test."

"Tried to shoot me. Tried and failed I might add." It's okay, he's moved on. He'd have taken a shot at whoever was in Wash's armor too if he could. But he was tired of the shooting. Tired of fighting, even if he's drawn his line in the sand here with them.

"When I make you breakfast in bed, then you know I"m romantic."

"This isn't, though. This is...us. This is us being us and watching movies in your bunk."

"Now you're just playing with semantics to soothe your wounded pride. I know it."

He'd been so angry. Now he's just... somewhere between determined and resigned, depending on how he feels at any given moment.

"You'd have to include coffee too, or I probably wouldn't notice most of it."

"Tomorrow, I mean." He shrugs and turns enough to nuzzle into Malcolm's hair. "We're good."

"We'll have to sleep at some point, else go into it like zombies. Not the best first impression to make as a dynamic duo."

"Probably should eat something to. Tell you wat. You sign the waiver- s'on the tablet next to the bed, I'll get dinner."

"I remember how fuzzy you were before coffee on the MOI, I know to bring you some. Little zombie rookie." He snorts a soft laugh, spearing a bite of salad for himself.

"Do you think I should talk to your doctor first, get the official medical opinion, or just say to hell with it because we're both apparently jumping into this cannonball style?"

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