goddamngrenades | RP Open Post

He usually sleeps well the last leg of the tour. Complete crash, out for hours, dreamless sleep- all that jazz. Tonight- he's not that lucky. He dozes for a few hours, sure, but starts twitching in the middle of the third, the too sweet tinge of that smoke shifting to something acrid and hot. There is no rescue, there's just the flash of the grenade, the sudden shout of his pointmant.

Dreaming of the ambush never ends well. At least he's over the screaming nightmares. York jolts awake in a cold sweat, panting as he lets his surroundings register. Bridal Suite. End of the tour. D's in the next room. Right.

He shuffles off the bed and scrubs at his eyes, walking by feel to the coffee maker.

[ She glowers at him, but there's a slope to her shoulders to signify that she's not going to fight him on it - miracle of miracles that that is. ]

I should argue but I won't. Even my hair feels tired..

[ It's a rather undigified slump into the chair that follows, all the better to remove her boots, and she doesn't look up until he's almost beside her with the coffee, shaking left foot, then right, free of the trappings of her armor. She looks so much smaller without it.

She can't help but find herself admiring York, thinner though he is than she remembers but no less cut in the ways that count, and she ignores the mutual looks of distrust between AI partner and locksmith. ]

It's...a long story. Hunted him down after I decided I was going to kill the Director.

[ And isn't that said super matter of factly. ]

She goes still at the sound of movement, but given it's coming from inside the main bedroom, Carolina relaxes again, moving to open the curtains a little and let in some light as York moves into the main sitting area.

The couches here are large and clearly intended for, ahem, pampering; it made for a good night's sleep, at least. Her hair's no longer in its ponytail - it's been changed to a loose braid, and her jacket is over the back of the couch. The coffee pot isn't on yet, but that's merely a matter of time, and if York wants to go ahead now, she won't stop him.

"Sleep well?"

"Nope." He's quit lying about that. Took months but- D worked with him and earned enough trust for him to be honest. Besides. They'll be better able to manage him if they know how well or not he's slept. So. "Kinda expected that too, what with the-"

He waves a hand vaguely.

"Not exactly mustard or tear gas but way too damn similar for my peace of mind. And I JUST got over how twitchy the smoke machines would get me too, damnit."

...I feel like both those points need elaboration, and we got time.

[ Coffee is set at her elbow, a hand resting tentatively on her shoulder, giving a squeeze before he steps away. Quick, filling, simple meals he can do. It's right back to the kitchen.

Keeping this normal is keeping him off center- but they need something a little neutral. Food. Food is neutral. Nevermind the extra scars, nevermind the pockmarks where Wyoming had shot him and the shrapnel from landing here. Nevermind that he's mostly naked. It's just another night. Like the past couple of years have never happened. ]

How'd that go?

"...Depends on what shade. I've had an episode over there right after I got back. It's why I haven't BEEN back in so long- didn't wanna deal with the fallout. Punch does not make everything better, neither does hugs and casserole." Therapy. Time, therapy, and being a productive member of society.

"Mmm...I try." He mumbles as soon as words are a thing again. "Not half bad yourself, rookie."

"Had to pick up a few things over the years, right?" Wash replies. He nuzzles against York's neck before pulling away reluctantly. "Gonna sleep tonight."

"Because you are embarrassed," she hazards a guess, letting him talk though she is. "Or perhaps they have simply offered you the wrong sort of punch." A much more physical therapy would not go a-miss, though if he doesn't like punches, there are always kicks.

You've never been so tired as to have that happen before?

[ York being...well, domestic in his own fashion, is strange enough. Mostly naked is what keeps this off center, which is why there's a half smile but no meeting of his eyes when the coffee is left beside her. Most definitely keeping her gaze set past his chest over over a shoulder and most definitely not on the curve of his shoulders or--

She really is tired when she can't muster the willpower to even avoid that much. Gaze goes into the decaff coffee. It's a traitor in its lack of caffine, but it's a safer thing to focus on when trying to talk. ]

It was an experience. You should meet his friends sometime. ["Yours now, too, thanks to Wash." She snorts very lightly before continuing] ...But we found him in the end.

"You'll have time during your break to work on that again, if necessary?" But it certainly wouldnt be her call to make him do it. Still, that did confirm a couple of things she'd wondered about. "Where did you serve?"

"Classified." It rolls off the tongue before he can quit, but sighs. "Seriously. Signed an NDA when I got the honorable discharge. Part of the deal."

He wasn't even spec ops, it just kind of HAPPENED.

"Gonna sleep WELL tonight." He murmurs, turning enough to loop his arms around Wash's shoulders and lean in for a slow kiss.

"I do not like that I lost it around them, no. I don't think it'll happen again, I've been keeping up with my treatment." He shrugs, settling back on the sofa. "Nah. My cousins are all happy to throw a punch. I just don't wanna break their arms on accident if they try."

"Sleeping better than I have in years since you got here," Wash replies. He leans into the kiss, and it's a little desperate. His fingers clutching the back of York's head. Make it count. He had to make it count.

"Nightly dose of vitamin York will do that." He snorts a little before leaning into it, warm and lose and easy, trying to gentle the desperation in Wash's grasp.

No one pulls all nighters quite like you, boss.

[ Heat and eat, that's what he does. Soon he's got a simple chicken burrito hot and ready- well. He's got five. He figures she'll need some and he may as well eat if he's up. Whatever wandering eyes that might happen he doesn't notice or doesn't comment on, more focused on getting her fed and figuring out where he's gonna put her for the night.

The plate of steaming goodness goes in front of her as he finally pulls up a chair, knocking his knee against hers. ]

Knowing this planet? If they're around it'll probably happen. [ He slumps back with his mug in his hands, eyes flicking from her to Epsilon and back again. ] Seriously. How'd that go? I know things were-

Well.

I don't know how anything was, now that I think of it.

He doesn't let go. Can't let go. Even when they break apart, he pulls York back, resting their foreheads together, fingers brushing through the short hair at the nape of York's neck.

You don't have to call me that, you know. I'm not your boss anymore.

[ Said quietly, eyes still boring into the contents of her coffee cup. Whether York has noticed her attention or not is besides the point; it's one thing to tease with it deliberately. Her self control is better than this, it's embarassing for it to be slipping so much..

She hadn't felt that hungry when he'd first mentioned food, but there's an almost painful rumble of her stomach when the scent of heated chicken wafts her way, and she looks up with a thankful smile when their knees knock. ]

If anyone could cause it to happen, it would be them.

[seriously. they're like. magnets for chaos. or something. The first burrito is picked up and, well.

It's not inhaled in one go, she has more manners than that. But it doesn't take long for her to devour it. Epsilon flickers a little at York's question but doesn't reply, but he's rather clearly focused on Carolina. It's unusual for him not to be a chatterbox here, but this isn't about him. She licks off her fingers slowly as she considers her answer, before releasing a deep breath. One she hadn't realised she was holding. ]

We found him, in the end. The man-- not the Director. He was long gone. Too late for that. [again. yet she doesn't sound bitter. a little distant, but focused.] Just an old man stuck in the past, unable to let things go.

[her voice trails a moment, as she reaches for a second burrito, but not yet biting into it, turning it in her hands.]

..I walked away.

[She sounds oddly...proud? Of that fact?

"You left him your pistol," her AI-partner points out, earning a flat look.]

Yes. I did. [and it's not hard to figure out what he probably did with it.]

Edited 2015-09-03 13:38 (UTC)

Treatment? That earns a puzzled look, before her expression clears. "You would not break mine," she points out with a hum. "Though I would have to restrain my strength in turn. But I understand. It is hard to come back from war to those who have only ever known a peaceful life."

Something to protect as much as it is envy. Or destroy, depending on your temperament.

There's a twitch at the corner of her mouth. But nothing else. It's dark enough still that he won't be able to see how her lips flatten further until she moves the conversation on. "But you did serve," she says instead. "Pop stardom seems like an unusual career track after the military."

"Yep. Two tours because I'm a masochist and they promised they'd pay for college!" He gives a cheerful little fist bump that melds into a slump against the sofa. Well. They hadn't lied. It just took more than he thought it would. "Knocked around a bit after I got back. Tried to remember how to be a person again, you know? And flashing lights and smoke machines and loud noises probably aren't the best thing to subject myself to but- exposure therapy, right? I liked dancing before. So clubs. Lotta clubs. With sucky music. Good beat, shit lyrics that were all weird or vapid or sexist or some kind of IST and man, everyone wants to just have a good time. Why you gotta make it weird, right? Decided to be the change I wanted to see."

"You're also very good about not setting me off." Which is really strange and really, really relaxing. To not have to worry about that. Not everyone was so considerate.

But she was right, they had time. He had time. "Have not made any headway in the 'get Carolina unbound from the building' project but I did find some interesting notes on glamour? So when we get that getting you out and about thing sorted you can probably not draw too much attention if you don't want."

"What's gotten into you, mm?" He knows what got into HIM for the most part and enjoyed it a hell of a lot- but this was. New. Maybe just more of that skinhunger. Maybe more of that lonliness.

There's a tight knot in his throat and he can't make himself reply for a moment because of it. And there's no way that he can explain. Not now. He lets out a shuddering breath, forces a smile. "I just... I'm really glad that you're here."

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