goddamngrenades | RP Open Post

He tenses at that, goes rigid. He remembers it. He remembers everything. Can't forget that's the problem. Being locked up in there, alone except when they wanted to talk to him. And he doesn't want anyone to feel that, would never want it. And he'd liked Delta. They'd been friends, kind of.

"No," he says after a moment. "You aren't ours. Can't trust you. Carolina or me can take him." Carolina, not him. Never him.

"Without a suit or network access what the hell am I gonna do?" Nothing. Not a damn thing. "I'm unarmed. I'm cut off. I'm stranded."

And the one person he thought he could trust was on the other side of Wash and he'd really not have to do anything to get to him.

"I'm beat. I know when I'm beat. Please, David."

"You think I'm gonna ever believe that you're helpless?" he asks, giving York a derisive look. "It's giving you backup."

His eyes narrow. "I told you, I'm not David. He- he's dead. He died a long time ago. It's Wash."

"You're giving me too much credit." A lot more than he really deserves, here. It's giving him a liability and Wash ought to know that.

Now he moves, pushes away from where he's sitting, cuffs in his hand. he slides them across the floor to Wash and- well. Kneels. Head up, eyes imploring. Nevermind the bruising and blood he caused. "Please."

The move surprises him. He glances down at the cuffs for a moment then back up at York, scrutinising his face. He doesn't trust him, can't. Watches as York kneels on the floor. Defeated. Like a prisoner. And he doesn't like that. Hates that he's put that look on York's face, but... it means they've won right? For now anyway.

"Get up," he says. "Get on your goddam feet and we'll see if you can even make it to your cell without being cuffed. Then we'll see."

Part of him wants to argue. If he lets Wash dangle Delta in front of him like that now- he'll just keep doing it. Forever. It'll always be 'do this, then we'll see. Do this, and we'll think about it'.

That's how the goddamn project ran. He needs more than a 'maybe'. For him and for Delta.

"I'll do whatever you want. Just let me have him. Compliance would be the most logical course, here. D'll understand."

"You're practically the patron saint of trying to redeem lost causes, York, no matter what's most logical," Wash says, and despite everything there's a painful hint of a smile on his lips.

He lets out a slow breath, then calls out. "Give me the AI unit. And a new pair of cuffs." York has already broken these. Needs a new pair. "I swear, if I have to hunt you down again, next time you'll be in a fucking straightjacket, and those... they really suck."

"Like I said before, I'm the pretty one. Not the smart one." He shrugs and a little of that hopelessness leaves. He's getting D. He can still talk to David.

Maybe he could- he doesn't know. Just holds his hands up and waits for what was coming. "Only if you can't dislocate your shoulders on command."

A beat.

"Then again it depends on the model. What? I got bored on the run."

He snorts at that, rolls his eyes. Doesn't believe it for a second. York is smart. The guy worked on puzzle locks for fun in his spare time.

He raises an eyebrow, gaze running along his shoulders. The shoulders he's seen naked and bowed and slick with sweat. "Well, if you wanted to try something kinky..." he says, the sourness of his voice only just undercut by a hint of humour.

One of the mercenaries in black enters, hands over Delta and the cuffs. Cuffs first, drags his arms behind him and cuffs them and he swear he will start using tape as well as more cuffs if he has to.

And then there's the chip, holds it in between his fingers. It's a tiny thing, insignificant looking for such an important thing.

"Is this where I call red?" Dislocations mid fuck aren't exactly his idea of a good time- but he goes still and quiet when the other merc enters. Notes the armor, the loadout, the posture. Career merc, follows orders. Not going to be someone he can flip.

He'll work on it.

He lets Wash cuff him without fuss, even going so far as to lace his fingers together behind him. Not that it stops the idle drumming of his thumbs against his hands. Random patterns- well. Seemingly random. Binary. Habits tend to stick after so long.

There's a flicker of confusion that makes him look very young before he figures out what that is actually supposed to mean. "I don't think calling Carolina would really help you," he says instead.

The guard takes out the armour along with him, leaves just the two of them. Wash pulls off his gauntlets to better hold the chip, then rests one hand against the back of York's neck, just neck to the port. His skin is very warm, can't resist rubbing his thumb against it. And then he slides the chip home.

"Red. Safeword, dude. You never really had a chance to explore the scene, huh?" Not like most of them did but- to get out of his own head sometimes he needed to. It hasn't been safe in for fucking ever but then it's a hand on his skin and it'd be so easy for Wash to snap his neck and be done with it. Just the fucking night before he'd had his hands all over him, had his fingers in him, slick and desperate and now?

Now York understands some of that desperation. He's always been a thief but Wash was stealing whatever time he could for as long as possible.

Then his head is awash with a familiar shade of green and he can't keep himself from sobbing.

sorry i'm sorry i'm so sorry i thought you were gone i thought you were dead i thought i thought i thought i'm sorry-

"Didn't really know there was any kind of... scene." He can't believe he's having this conversation right now. But he supposes it's the kind of thing that comes up with someone you've fucked and... he hadn't lied in his message, his confession. He hadn't. That had been true.

He hears that sob from York, the relief and grief in it when he gets Delta back. It hurts to hear. He hates it. It's a wash of feelings that he shouldn't have; hurt and loss and jealousy, maybe happiness too. York and Delta just fitted together.

He gives himself, on the outside, five seconds. it's easy to keep track. In the mind though, oh, in the mind? The speed of thought and the gaping ache where Delta had been filled and full to the brim with soothing code and a familiar voice? It feels like a year. York doesn't care about the tears dripping hot down his cheeks, the way his hands clench tight behind his back like Delta's something he can hold onto.

he's back.

He's alive.

And that makes him whole.

Five seconds before he sucks in a breath and slowly makes his way to his feet. "After you, Wash."

He'd wanted that. Not like South, with the burning need to be better than everyone. He's just wanted a companion. A friend who would understand him without words. Someone who would always have his back. In the worst moments, he wishes that Epsilon had taken him down too.

He gives York his time to adjust, remarkably quickly considering. Before he puts his gauntlets back on, he reaches down, smooths his thumb beneath York's good eye to get rid of the tears. "Come on. Got you a lovely room all set up."

The sense memory attached to Wash's hand flares up in Delta like- well. His filters are down, he's out of practice, and pulling apart right now isn't exactly an option. Too deeply twined at the moment to flinch away and swear- but being seen as a crier in front of the other mercs? Not good for his reputation. Maybe. It's not what keeps him from pulling away- if anything there's a sharp, bird like tilt to his head that doesn't belong to York, eyes narrowing on Washington's face.

You actually-

I was lonely and he was there, okay? Okay. Good talk.

We can use that.

Maybe. Quit staring it's creeping him out.

York's eyes drop from Wash's to his jaw, his lips, his throat, and- well. It's hard not to remember how he'd tasted, the sounds he'd made. He steps in that much closer and honestly he's not sure if it's him or Delta that has them closing the distance in a kiss that's more chaste than anything.

"...Thank you."

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."

"You gave him back." Whether it's D talking about York or York talking about D- there's no real way to say. There's an equal amount of both in how they tip their head forward to rest against David's. How they breathe. Warm and real and whole and while York had to bargain and beg Wash didn't have to.

It's a kindness they won't forget.

He doesn't think that he's been so terrified as he is when York and Delta lean against him. He's a fucking mess, bloodied where York had smashed his nose and he'd barely had chance to clean up, and he's tired. Hadn't slept last night. Too caught up in watching York, savouring the last moments. He can feel York's breath and his warmth, the lines around his eyes. He lets it continue for a moment until he can drag himself away sharply.

"I said I was just following orders. Don't think it means anything else."

"Of course not." And that? That is Delta before he sinks back under York's skin enough for the usual half smile to peek on through. Sure he's cuffed. Sure he's probably fighting a losing battle- but he's got Delta.

With that? he can make this work. He's certain of it. And he might still have a thread on Wash- enough that he doesn't think much at all of licking what blood he'd picked up from the kiss off slow and easy.

After all. Wash is only human. "Lead on, Agent Washington."

He eyes him warily for a moment, unsure of how to take the bits of Delta peeking through. Orders are great, but he's not sure he likes this. His gaze remains fixed on York when he licks away the flecks of Wash's blood from his lips, pink tongue flicking out. And yeah, he knows exactly what that tongue can do, how good it can make him feel.

He heads out of the room, waiting for York to leave before he closes the door. The other guards have weapons trained on him and he knows that Carolina is there, watching. Probably following while cloaked.

York follows. Head up, shoulders straight, and starts counting the steps. If he can find his way back here he can find his way to the terminal. Even without a HUD and only one good eye- with Delta? he can keep track of who's around. What they're wearing. Armor, body language, temperament. Cataloging. So they can plan.

The cell when they reach it is not quite what one would have expected. For an army base, it's positively luxurious. A large bed, bathroom, desk and chair. Bolted down of course, and there was no computer terminal anywhere for him to get access to. But in place of that, there's a few books, a pack of cards.

"In here," Wash says, nudging him inside. "I wouldn't try to get out by the way. There's an EMP charge on the door. It'll go off if it's opened wrongly."

This is- nice. Very nice. One way in, one way out, door's probably trapped against tampering. No terminal that he can see but-

THey'll figure something out. They always do.

He's already peering at the desk and considering his options when Wash tells him that last bit and both he and Delta lock up cold. Well. That's why he let him take D, right there. Not gonna fuck with that door. Noted. "So do I get to be uncuffed now or do I have to live with my hands behind my back forever? Also: Clothes. I know you like my ass but come on- will it kill you to give me some jeans or something?"

Wash stands in the doorway, watching as York explores the room. He's not sure what Carolina and Control have planned, but they're definitely keeping him in luxury for now. Kill him with kindness? He'll have to speak to her later.

Turn around and I'll get rid of the cuffs for now," he says. No promising that he won't still end up cuffed later if he's an asshole about things. It's kind of inevitable. "I'll see what I can find. Might have noticed I don't exactly own a lot of clothes. Not sure anyone has many with them."

Re: York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

Re: York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

Re: York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

Re: York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

Re: York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

Re: York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

Re: York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

Re: York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

Re: York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

Re: York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

Re: York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

Re: York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)

Re: York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)