goddamngrenades | RP Open Post

"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."

"Dive bars have the best food anyway." He shrugs, rubbing his thumb over Wash's knuckles. It feels right in a way that very little has since he woke up alone in his head. Since he woke up and he wasn't alone.

Bitters, true to his word, brings around two glasses of water and two bottles of some kind of local beer that looks ice cold and that's really all that he needed.

The breadsticks were a surprise.

"Just the right amount of grease and salt, and you get more than two of them artfully arranged on a square plate."

He likes the way York is touching him, even just that small gesture. He knows they're being watched and for the first time in ages, he doesn't care much.

"The kids have really gone all out."

"They figure this is an apology dinner." Which it kind of was. "That we had a fight and almost broke up."

Which- also kind of true. Still. He doesn't do much but smile over at them as they round up the plates of baked chicken and real vegetables and bring them around. Someone somewhere must love them because there's this cheese dip for the breadsticks that probably didn't come out of a can!

"So...will you take me back, baby? I promise I'll be good."

"Well, they're not wrong," Wash replies, He falls silent as they bring over the food. It's the same as everyone else is having for the most part, but they've done their best to make it look posh, like they're actually at a restaurant and not in the mess tent.

He squeezes York's finger. "I think I can take your word on that. Yeah, of course. I hope you can forgive me. Eventually." For so much more than York realises. He doubts he will be able to in the end.

Make the best of what you have. It's something York's tried to live by and for awhile he'd forgotten about it. Tried for more. Got shot. Got over it. This is more- it's more him than he's felt in a long while. "Course, Wash."

What were friends that might be on the way to becoming friends with benefits for?

Yeah labeling this is gonna be difficult so. Fuck labels.

He twists his hand enough and dips down, pressing a kiss to the back of Wash's hand in front of god and everyone. There may have been a catcall and a wolf whistle quickly silenced by his kids glaring.

He doesn't know. He doesn't know everything, but for a while, it's nice to pretend. Nice to think that in another situation this could actually have been something that lasted, where both of them could be honest.

The kiss is nice. Wash knows how to make it better. They can do better than that. He twists his hand, leans in and draws York up for a real kiss. It's a light thing, a tentative brush of his lips, but he thinks it gets his message across.

Now there's definitely a wolf whistle going that isn't quite silenced by Smith or Bitters, but York doesn't give a damn. What's tentative becomes a little more firm, a little more intent as he leans into it and- Rookie's got softer lips than he remembered. Or he's not remembering right. Casbah's a blur.

York's eyes are dark when he pulls back. "So. Um. Dinner?"

Food first, fun later.

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