goddamngrenades | RP Open Post

"You know you love me." He presses a second kiss to Wash's cheek before he's pushed away, hand raking through his hair to make a mess of it before he's on his own, looking for bowls. The bigger the better he is fucking hungry. "All over. Seriously I bounced around the rim for a long while trying to keep under the radar."

"I love candy too, and that is terrible for me."

Oh man, he wishes he hadn't thought about that. It's been ages since he had candy. He tries his best to smooth his hair down, to get it to lie like it normally does, but it's apparently a lost cause and he gives up in favour of grabbing spoons.

"Yeah? I guess the project falling screwed us all over." He pauses, sighs. "Those of us who were left anyway."

"Really? You still got that sweet tooth?" He quirks a brow at Wash, ladeling himself a huge bowl of the stew. Now that? That he can and will work with. His grin's wide and easy- up till the end of that. "You and me."

He'd kept track. Kept eyes on everyone after the Mother of Invention crashed. "Florida bit it in a box canyon, Tex killed Wyoming, Tex got wiped in an EMP that lost a bunch of useful, incriminating data, South killed North then got herself shot somewhere else and Maine- died before I ever crashed the damn ship."

Voice thickening a bit he swallows, forcing back the guilt. "Clair fell. It's just us, Rookie."

Wash shrugs helplessly, giving him a wry smile. "What can I say? Some things don't change."

Hearing how it all happened, it's like a punch to the solar plexus. Knocks the air right out of him and suddenly he's not so hungry anymore. He hadn't been close to all of them, but close enough for them to be almost family. He'd never wanted them dead.

"Christ. I- I thought maybe... maybe Tex would have survived. Or Wyoming. Or that North would find some place to hide out and- and live." He seemed like he would have been able to do that.

The words are on the tip of his tongue when he hears the guilt in York's voice. He could end it all with just a few words.

But that's not who he is anymore. There's no going back. "Just us."

"Heard rumors awhile ago that CT had been spotted but- it was just some jackass in her armor. She died on the oil rig." Because of Tex. Because of Omega. Because of the fucking director. One breath, three, and he pushes past it all and past Wash, bumping him with his elbow to get him to move again.

"Better Lucky than good, right? And we've always been lucky bastards." Despite all evidence to the contrary. "C'mon. Sit. eat. Gotta have lunch before you get dessert."

His heart soars for a moment at the thought that Connie might be alive, only to be brought down a second later with a resounding thump of impact. His hands clench at his sides for a moment until York bumps him and then he can breathe again, even though he feels hollowed out. So pretty much back to normal then.

"I'd rather be both." He doesn't feel lucky. "Sure thing, mom. Do I get ice-cream?"

"Nope." He grins and it's wide, it's wicked, and it's- well he's been saving these for months now but Wash? He'd thought the kid was dead. It's worth handing them over. He reaches down and pops a seal on his armor, pulling a carefully wrapped package from where he'd normally stow an extra clip of ammo. He sets it on the table between them and nods for Wash to unwrap them. "Your favorite."

That grin is pure mischief and evil and Wash gives him a wary look. What was he up to? He had seen that smile before and it usually ended up with a reprimand from the Director for them doing something monumentally stupid.

The wrapped package is not what he expects, the wariness melting away into confusion, and then, when he's opened it, pure shock. There's a sealed package of Three Musketeers there, real ones. "York you- how did you get these? I- I can't accept these. They're yours."

Why would York give him this when a few hours ago they'd been at each other's throats?

"Call it a gift." he shrugs, digging into his soup. It's easier not to look at him when he says this- to admit how fucking relieved he is that even after everything he's not the only one still alive. The burden of surviving isn't his alone to bear. "Until two hours ago i thought you were dead. I thought I was alone."

Not that the planet wasn't inhabited but- that he was the last one. That no one else knew or remembered or could even understand what they'd been torn through. "Also I've missed a couple of your birthdays. Christmasses. Etc."

Wash stares down at the candy bars like they're fucking gold dust. Not just because it's tough to get hold of them, but because York remembered. It had been years and York remembered what he liked, right down to the stupid sweets he'd scoffed during training.

"Thank you," he says after a long moment, fingers closing around the plastic wrappers. "For what it's worth, I'm glad I'm not alone. I'm glad you got out. I'm glad I missed." He might regret that in a few days, but right now, it's as close to home as he's been in a long time.

"So- let's win this and go find somewhere to make up for that many birthdays."

He can't remember why he grabbed them in the first place. Sure he's got postcards from places North always wanted to visit. Those damn zen beads that Florida always wore, a 'fuck you' flask that South gave him once. Bits and baubles, tiny scratches of the team they had been before-

Before.

It hadn't occurred to him that he didn't have anything for Wash till he'd seen them. Never liked them, too damn sweet, give him dark chocolate or something with caramel but- the kid loved them. So he'd nabbed a pack and promised he'd have some when he settled in next wherever it was.

This is better.

"You never could hit shit from a distance." He nudges Wash's foot with his own, grin going a little tired. A little sad. "I think we're allowed back in Casbah? It's been ten years. right?"

He thinks it has. Time kinda flies when you're on the run.

"Nah, that's just your eyesight going," Wash replies, because levity is a million times better than the exhaustion he can see creeping in at the edge of York's smile. It's not just Wash who feels old, apparently. "I think we might just manage it, if we stick to the dive bars which aren't too hot on checking IDs. Which are of course, the most fun bars to go to."

If they both survive this, and if somehow York doesn't end up trying to kill him, he is going to take him on a bender the likes of which Casbah has never seen.

"No goats." Not after what happened last time. "...Or Jello Wrestling."

Even if he'd made a good chunk by pinning that model. And North. And Maine. It was a fun blur, that particular bender.

Wash's eyes widen in horror as that particular memory is brought to the fore. "No goats. No jello wrestling. Got it. I do not need to see that ever again. Also I do not need to lose two days to the hangover again."

Even so, what he does remember of those nights had been pretty damn fun.

"You weren't complaining when I pulled you out of that cherry moshpit. Where did you and Reggie find that PVC miniskirt? And why was he wearing it? You've got the better ass." Like it's common knowledge- at the time? it had been. There was the leaderboard and then there was Niner's ass board. York had a solid number one slot there for a few months. It was pretty amazing.

"Oh right, like you have any right to judge. You nearly drowned in a puddle of lime jello and Maine started giving you mouth to mouth." He'd had photos. he wishes he still had them. he wonders if they still exist or if they were just lost in the ether.

"I don't disagree though. My ass is pretty fabulous."

"You really think that was mouth to mouth? I bet South fifty bucks I could get Maine to kiss me." Sure he'd been sneaky about it, but Wash and his photos got him extra pocket money.

Between the candy, the nudges of York's foot to Wash's, and how goddamn glad they were to see each other- York didn't even need to tell anyone that they were involved now or in the past. Assumptions were being made. At least if the giggling is anything to go by.

Wash considers that for a moment, eyes narrowing. "...so was he a good kisser?" he settles on finally. Because obviously Maine's kissing ability is the most important thing right now.

He glances over at the armoured rebels who studiously look away. "I think we're now the subject of several of those bets."

"Thorough. He was a thorough kisser. Went at it like he went at everything- head first and like a wrecking ball. He almost chipped one of my teeth." It'd been good, though. Fun. Maine laughed about it afterward- as much as he laughed about anything. "I think- yeah. I've kissed everyone in the project at least once."

Even Niner. Especially Niner. Damn.

"It'll keep them from trying to get me alone for one on one talks. I'd rather not."

"Yeah, that sounds like Maine." Delicate was not in the man's vocabulary. Not that he'd used much of his vocabulary even before he'd got shot. "Oh really? Even Florida? Even Wyoming?" He leans forward a little, curious despite everything. Maybe he's a little hungry for any connection to back then, any scrap that reminds him of how things had been.

"I don't know if you'll get out so easily. You're more approachable than I am, less scary."

"Florida was really good with his tongue. Reggie tickled. Also- Niner dared me." Which explains- everything. The twins were easy- even if South bit him. Tex didn't count. Tex hadn't ever really been one of them until there wasn't a them to be a part of anymore.

It didn't count.

"In what world are you scary, wash?"

"Oh well, that totally explains everything," Wash replied, his grin widening. "Niner really knew everything that went on didn't she?" Probably more than any of them did. He's not sure whether to be pissed about that. He hopes she survived.

In answer to that question, he glares over at the rebels. They all suddenly look a little nervous. "This one. They appreciate my help but they are kids. I put them through their paces. They see me slaughter Feds on the battlefield and not bat an eyelid."

"You. Worst fighter on the leaderboard you. Grappling hook to the codpiece you." A beat. "You're cheating. That's Maine's scowl."

It doesn't look all that right on Wash's face- not when you've seen the original- but it figures Maine would teach him how to glare. The kid needed a little teaching from all of them before the director taught all of them how little they mattered in the long run. For his part York looks over with a smile, waving to them. "Stop being so hard. War's scary. Fighting is scary. Being human? Makes it easier."

"But I was on the leaderboard," Wash says. The infamous codpiece incident gets a scowl from him, and he leans back, arms folded over his chest. It just isn't fair to bring that up!

"What can I say? Maine had a good scowl. And it works. I don't want them getting too close. It just makes things harder in the long run.' They are going to die, all of them are going to die and it's his fault. Maybe they would have died anyway, but he's helped to drag this out.

"Out of pity, I'm sure." He snorts, going back to his soup. Not wanting anyone close- he gets it. He's gotten that since his first squad got shot up before the project. But in something like this? "Soldiers are soldiers because they work to protect the man that's next to them, Wash. The chain of command offers some compartmentalization, sure but- you can't be that aloof with them. They need someone they can look up to. Someone they can trust will have their backs."

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