goddamngrenades | RP Open Post

He sucks in a breath when York does that, his fingers warm against the line of his jaw. It's very intimate. He opens his eyes to look at him, and York is so very close. In the back of his mind, Wash is calculating the hundred or so ways he could kill him while they're like this, the constant background noise of his life these days.

But mainly he's just concentrating on York touching him.

He doesn't know the half of it. He wonders if York can see the guilt in his face, the wretched taint that he carries with him every day since he'd made his deal with Charon in exchange for his freedom. He wasn't sure it was worth it.

"Yeah," he says, the words bitter as ash in his mouth, "helping." He turns his head away just so he doesn't have to see the look on York's face. "You think there are some things you can't come back from?"

In the back of his mind he's counting how much time they've got left. Bitters is probably tired and a little winded from Smith throwing them both down so that'll probably get them an extra minute or two since running in formation means staying in formation. The fact that he can trust Smith and Jensen to keep the group moving or at least keep the group a group is a bit of a relief and a note he's taken to get them a little more responsibility.

No one else really seems to mind.

Right now he's glad for that time because this? Feels like it goes deeper. Also staying with Wash like it's a lazy Sunday lay in- a warm and fuzzy morning after instead of the aftermath of a lesson on the mats is nice. Stupidly nice. Bad idea nice.

"David." Gentler now, thumb smoothing a line along his cheek. "Genocide and what the Director did. That's about it. Anything else you can just- dust off, make amends as best you can, and move forward."

He wishes that this was real. He wishes that he could just laugh it off, say that York is right and he'll do better now, and also that the guy should really just kiss him or stop teasing like this.

Genocide.

He can't come back from this one can he? He's gone too far down a path and no matter what he does, he'll never run fast enough to get off it. The question is, is it worth it to try, or should he just give it up as him being a lost cause and be Charon's lapdog for the rest of his life?

Is there any way of fixing this?

"Right. But apart from that..." His smile is brittle, an awful fractured glass thing.

How do you even start making amends for something unforgiveable?

"And dying my hair blue. Again." That smile is so fucking- wrong. Warped and awful so tossing something up from the past to get it to be a little less broken? Not below his dignity. "I mean, man. That was well timed and everything, but I got a reputation here as a badass. Can't be a badass if I have blue hair."

Footsteps from around the bend and they got about sixty seconds to make up their minds. His mind. Not sure if it's a good idea but wash is- wash has always been safe.

Nothing warped and twisted like with Carolina, nothing obligatory like with North. "We'll be fine, David."

It's a quick, chaste thing and sure maybe he was enough of an asshole to time it to when just Jensen came around the bend and could see but York does close the distance. Presses their lips together once like an apology, like forgiveness before he rolls off Wash and offers him a hand up.

He laughs at that, not half as bright as it had been last time, but still there, still something. "I dunno. I think you managed. Maybe something more manly, like red?"

He can hear the return of the troops, and Wash is just about to push York away, put some distance between them before he way York says his name makes him scream.

And then York is kissing him. It's a soft little thing, sweet and more forgiving than Wash deserves. He's a monster and York already said, even unknowingly, that he's crossed a line he can't come back from. But it feels too good to reject it and maybe he's always been this weak.

He lets York pull him up, keeps his head ducked while he composes himself. He can already hear the whispers and rumours.

"So. How many breaks?" He always has to ask because- they'll always need them and being aware of limitations keeps people from getting killed. Once he explained that to them they stopped resenting the idea.

"Two!" Jensen offers, eyes flicking between Wash and York. "...should we take another lap, sirs?"

It is tempting. Hell he's still holding onto Wash's hand for a few seconds too long before he makes up his mind. He'll deal with this- this whatever it is later. Time to teach kids not to die.

"Pair up. Go over what we just learned. We'll do grappling tomorrow."

York takes over seamlessly, like they hadn't just been on top of each other a moment ago. He's glad for it. Gives him time to recover, let the flush fade, let him pull himself together because fuck, this is going to kill him. It's a terrible idea to get close to people. It's an even worse idea now. He knows where he stands, even if York doesn't.

At some point everything is going to crash and burn, and still he relishes the feeling of York's fingers against his.

"She's too smart for our own good," he mutters once the kids have paired off to start practicing.

"Best eyes of the bunch too- when her contacts don't dry out." He keeps insisting she swap to glasses and have a solid person partnered up with her to catch the peripheral blur but it hasn't come to anything just yet.

Still.

He leans over enough to bump shoulders with Wash, clearing his throat. "...Dinner later? I hear they actually got chicken."

"I'll keep an eye out for contact fluid when I go on my next raid," he says. Easy stuff. Business. While he figures out what the hell he's going to do.

He gives York a surprised, slightly wary look before he nods, smiling. "Sure. I'll even forgo the armour for the evening."

"Now look who's getting fancy." This is- easier. Probably not smart. probably not a good plan. But Wash is smiling and it had felt too damn good to have someone he knew wasn't going to kill him that close.

It's been so long and Wash is- wash. Wash is safe.

Wash rolls his eyes, punches York lightly in the shoulder. "Right, because sweats and a shirt are totally formalwear these days."

"You honestly don't have jeans? Really?" Looks like Wash spent more time in the armor than he did and that- well that's just a little sad.

Wash shrugs. "Not been anywhere to need them. It's all just kit in the end and I travel light."

"...you need to get out more." And that is just SAD coming from York. "Dinner. Mess. Make yourself pretty."

And he shouldn't slap Wash's ass on the way to Bitters and Smith- but he does it anyway. Because it's funny.

"Yes sir, Agent New York sir,' Wash replies, giving York a wry look. The slap to his ass is startling but he doesn't do anything more than scowl. "Asshole."

"You love it!" He singsongs back, jogging over to help his kids. His men. It feels- weird being in charge, that was always Carolina's bag- but he can do this.

Wash watches him for a moment, and he can't hide the fond look on his face. It's good have York back, even if he's pretty sure it's just going to hurt more in the long run.

He's got some thinking to do.

He leaves York to take care of the kids and heads off to check in. Carolina sounds tired. Charon must have been leaning on her. He wonders if they've heard about the Freelancer they picked up. "We could just let him go," Wash says. He knows it doesn't work like that.

"He's a liability."

"...yeah, I know."

He's almost managed to stop feeling sick by the time he gets to dinner.

Somehow he'd managed to save or scrounge up some decent clothing. Jeans that make his ass look good but have been ripped and stitched a dozen times over in places- can't really go in and buy things and he's not always somewhere he can take what he wants. So. Repair work. The shirt's new, though. Jensen offered something a friend or boyfriend or cousin or something used to wear on dates and she really does have their number, doesn't she?

It's a little tight across the shoulders but that's a good thing, right? Makes him look bigger. Bitters gave him what was left of a tube of hair gel without any kind of commentary and Palomo offered his body spray. Which Smith promptly replaced with something tolerable.

His kids are good kids. If he weren't just a little nervous since it'd been so damn long he'd probably be mortified that the help came at all, but then there's wash out of the armor and- it's normal, right? Two guys with dinner. "Hey."

Holy shit, York has actually made an effort at this. Like it's an actual date and not the two of them going to eat dinner in the mess. Together.

Wash suddenly feels incredibly underdressed. He hadn't been joking about not owning anything nice. He lives in the armour pretty much and it hadn't seemed necessary to possess anything when he wasn't going to use it. He's in the newest set of sweats that he owns, a clean tank top that shows off his arms, but York is wearing jeans that make him look hot as hell and has some kind of body spray on and...

"Hey," he says, looking York up and down. "Holy crap, do I feel like a slob now."

"eh, it's okay. We both know I'm the pretty one." It's- it might not be dressed up or dressed down but it's familiar. Achingly familiar and all that's missing is Wash snuffling around looking for coffee and bumping into Maine or North and just sagging there until someone brings it to him. It's more Wash than he'd seen him in the past while and- wow it's not just his face that won puberty- the arms are impressive.

And the abs.

Why hadn't he stared when he'd seen him shirtless- right. Grudge. This is- words york use words. "C'mon, I got us a table."

"I'm inclined to agree right now," Wash replies, and his smile comes easier, hungrier, than it has for a while. York looks damn good and he can't stop staring.

"Are there candles?" he teases as he follows York towards the table, and he impulsively reaches out, grabbing York's hand.

"Maaaaaybe? Did you want candles?" As soon as the word's out of his mouth Palomo hisses something like 'i got this' to the others at their table all the way across the mess and practically DIVES for the one Wash and York are headed to in the absolute worst stealth combat roll York has ever seen.

But hey. he's trying.

Two candles go on the table and Palomo manages to roll back before Jensen hisses about lighting them and they all look so damn SAD that York has to bite his lip to keep from laughing. "Apparently there are Candles. I got this."

The lighter he pulls from his back pocket is battered and scraped, paint missing on the logo but it's embossed in anyway. Errera. A flick of the well-oiled hinge and click has the lighter burning bright and in turn the candles lit. "There we go."

It's hilarious. Wash, bites his lip, ducking his head to hide his grin when the rookies fail at stealth just to give him candles on the dinner table. It's ridiculously endearing.

Every concession he makes, every time he thinks of them this way, it makes his choice clearer. He wonders if Carolina, out with the feds, has people she sees like this. If she tries to keep them back just to keep them alive a little longer.

Still, he's grinning when York leans over to light them with a well worn and familiar lighter. "Colour me impressed. You've really gone all out. Don't think I've ever been on a date this fancy."

"Now that's just a damn shame, Wash." He settles in across from him and sure, they SHOULD be going to grab something to eat but Bitters heard 'dinner' and 'with wash' and insisted that they bring the food to them like 'a real fucking date you absolute nerd'. After which Smith made him do fifteen pushups for talking to his CO like that and York lost it laughing.

Long story short, dinner will come to them.

"I don't think there's any wine but there IS beer. Decent beer."

"I didn't grow up in a real fancy place. You're the one who went out to see the universe back... before." Wash had joined up and then got drafted into Freelancer. Didn't leave a whole lot of time for relationships.

It feels bizarrely normal to be doing this, a moment to cling onto.

"I always preferred beer anyway."

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