That stare, that look, it isn't York, and the sense of unease crawls along Wash's spine. Delta. He remembers looks like that from easy on when York had him implanted, when they were still trying to work things out. Before they'd figured where to draw the lines. It makes him uncomfortable and he pulls his hand away like he's burnt.

His eyes are wide when York steps close, one hand going for the gun at his side before York's lips brush against his. It's too much. Makes him think and feel too much and it's awful.

"I'm just following orders."