Smut, Gen, Angst, Fluff, Anything, Everything. PFL era, Post war, Pre Canon, AU, whichever Brackets or Prose whatever you're comfortable with Tag and go, baby!
WIth d bugging him he can't sleep so he leaves. Goes for a run around the dome, see if that helps. Sits and stares at the ocean for a long while and considers getting a boat but- that's not him. He never thought about sailing before, it didn't matter. It wasn't a thing.
Calls his mother, that usually helps. She's proud. Worried and proud. Talks to his dad. Takes his medication. Goes to the gym to lift weights because sparring isn't happening today. And there's Mal, falling the fuck over using Carolina's stance.
Wow.
He has to slowclap from where he's sitting, weights at his side.
Great, and now someone's mocking him. That's great. That's totally what he came here for and absolutely what he needed, and he's going to shoot a glare full of daggers at that person and it's bloody York. Are they just subconsciously drawn to each other now or what?
"I mentioned drift induced mood swings and endorphin crashes, right?" This is like- a double whammy. "You got all floaty and dreamy and are using Carolina's stance- I get weird."
"Probably. I don't really- I don't want to for another day or so. I wanna level out first." He's still all unsettled. "I think you could probably use the time too."
The answer doesn't upset him. It actually...makes him laugh, starting at a low chuckle but building up from there. He claps York on the shoulder lightly. "Yes, okay, I understand the confusion going on. That was probably a rather stupid question to ask."
He's laughing. Why is he laughing. What is going on what did he say what the FUCK- the hand on his shoulder helps him wind down a little, blinking over at Malcolm. "Maybe a little stupid."
The whole thing is stupid. Why is he even upset? Why were they even getting upset at each other? "I won't leave unless you need me to. We can be adults about this and be in the same room without anything blowing up." Or getting steamy. "I'm not upset with you, and I'm sorry if I gave off that idea."
"No. I'm sorry. Or we can both be sorry." Maybe it's a mood swing that's got him smiling. He can't rightly tell, now, can he? His pitches his voice lower, quieter, for just them. "We won't be sparring, but are you still going to want to jump me if all I'm doing is working out by my lonesome?"
"Only kind of? Ohhh, Mister Murray. I think we both know that's not quite the case."
He should go kick the shit out of that bag some more. Yes. Kicking and punching and flexing and moving. Mostly his moves this time, hopefully. Sounds like a great plan.
"...notfair." Using that voice. Wandering off and- showing off. Not fair at ALL. Malcolm knows exactly how attractive he is to York and- okay. No jumping. None. Not gonna do it, nope.
Fuck.
Okay he can just- strip off his shirt and go back to lifting. He can do that. Will do that.
Showing off those muscles? York, you're sure you want to play this game? Because he'll play, and he'll play to win. Like he always does.
(Or like...she...always does? Hm. He'll sort that out later.)
What about being adults about this? Surely if you're too hot and bothered, one can go take a quick cool shower. Feeling up for a bonerkilling shower yet, York?
Not too hot and bothered yet, nope. Gonna- go through his stretches. Yeah. Settle up on a mat and start going through his yoga poses, twisting and contorting little by little.
You, sir, are a shit. No, he is not hitting the bag any harder than usual. That's just how hard he normally hits. There is not to be any jumping today, not in that way. He'll stick to his guns.
Stretching and twisting and holding his yoga poses, grinning a little when Mal starts hitting the bag harder than usual. Apparently flexibility did it for him.
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Calls his mother, that usually helps. She's proud. Worried and proud. Talks to his dad. Takes his medication. Goes to the gym to lift weights because sparring isn't happening today. And there's Mal, falling the fuck over using Carolina's stance.
Wow.
He has to slowclap from where he's sitting, weights at his side.
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No, wait, he'll stop first. "I don't know what's going on here. Why you've been acting so strangely since seeing that doctor."
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He is kind of fucked up. This won't be easy under normal circumstances and- well. This ain't exactly normal.
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He should go kick the shit out of that bag some more. Yes. Kicking and punching and flexing and moving. Mostly his moves this time, hopefully. Sounds like a great plan.
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Fuck.
Okay he can just- strip off his shirt and go back to lifting. He can do that. Will do that.
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(Or like...she...always does? Hm. He'll sort that out later.)
What about being adults about this? Surely if you're too hot and bothered, one can go take a quick cool shower. Feeling up for a bonerkilling shower yet, York?
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