goddamngrenades | RP Open Post

Wash's hands fist into the bedsheets, twisting them between his fingers as York sucked at the head of his dick. It was a harsh press of suction coupled with the tease of his tongue. Where the fuck did he learn how to do this? It's driving him crazy and it's not fair to make him lose his mind like this. He can't hold back for long. He's driven forward, hard, desperate, towards his orgasm, a strangled cry dragged out of him.

There it is. York swallows it down with a grimace- it's been awhile since he's done this but spitting is just impolite and it's better than a mouthful of blood. He pulls off when the last of it's done, licking Wash clean before crawling back up to flop down next to him. "HOw's that for a 'good morning?"

He feels weak and drained in the best possible way once York is done with him. The focussed attention of York's tongue against his sensitive flesh is more intense now somehow, makes him whine , and then he gives York a dazed, but sated sort of look. He rolls over, throws an arm over York's chest.

"How the fuck am I supposed to go to work after that?"

"Maybe take a day off? Sleep in and relax a little." God knows Wash probably needs to. "I gotta wash up and run drills with the kids, though. So you can stay here, sleep and watch some movies or somth'n till I get back. Cool?"

Wash gives him a thoroughly sceptical look. "I can't do that." That's his first reaction, the instinct. He doesn't take days off. He isn't sure that he remembers how to take time off. He works, he trains, he sleeps. He presses closer to York side, unwilling to let him go yet. "Run away with me," he says impulsively. It's mostly a joke. "Let's just... run away. Other side of the planet. Hole up somewhere. Do whatever we want."

"Yeah, you can. In fact I kinda think you should. Let me do the worrying for today, mkay?" He's shifting, getting ready to roll out of bed and find his sweats for the jog when David presses close. That statement-

Wow that takes him all the way back to the freight elevator. Zero G, suits on, Carolina so damn certain and- she'd been right at the time.

He hadn't trusted her enough to tell her. He should've. Taylor reaches up to comb his fingers through David's hair, voice gentle. "Nah, not today. Promised Palomo I'd let him try the sniper rifle on the range if he behaved and he has. Mostly. Ask me again tomorrow."

He huffs in protest when York tries to pull away. He really doesn't want to move. Really doesn't want to leave the room. There's responsibilities outside. Reports to be made. Plans to figure out. It's complicated outside. "You'll get wrinkles if you worry too much."

He squeezes York more tightly for a moment before reluctantly letting him go. Tomorrow there will be another thing that York has to do. It's a nice way of letting him down.

"If you get shot, i will never let you live it down. I will fucking mock your motherfucking ghost if that's what it takes."

"Hey I'm not gonna be on that side of the firing line." He dips his head to kiss David's forehead- his nose, his cheeks, his lips. "Promise. I'll be careful. Sleep in, rest up, take a day. I'll tell Kimball you needed it, okay? You've earned a breather. Tablet's got a buncha bootleg movies on it if you want."

He has to roll out of bed then, or he'd never leave. Off and scratching the small of his back while looking for boxers- digging what he needs out of an old duffle. The first thing he hands over is the tablet, the second a wireless comm hub. "Sometimes that thing gets music, so, if you're feeling lucky."

The rest he leaves till after he's gotten dressed. Scrubbed the tangles out of his hair and done a few early morning streatches. Contortions. Streatches.

"Does Palomo know which side he's aiming at, is the question." The jibe could be a lot crueler than he makes it, but it's tinged with good humour. He kisses back, catching every bit of skin that he can until York pulls away.

"Wow, you really did think of everything," Wash says when he hands the hub over. "Is this part of some nefarious plan I should be worried about?" He's touched by how thoughtful it is.

And then comes the stretches. And those Wash happily observes, lying on his back, head tilted over the edge of the bed as he watches York do his workout.

"Honestly? Nope." This all was kind of spur of the moment. He always did do better in improv than he did a solid plan. "Just happy coincidence."

York moves carefully through each series of stretches, twisting and bending, contorting and arching till all his joints feel nice and loose. Good start to the day, there. "I'll come by with lunch, if you need clothes for any reason, though I am of the opinion you should stay naked, you can borrow mine."

"Well... good choice then." Hooray for coincidence.

He's normally up and finished with stretches and his morning workout by now and here he is, still in bed, half asleep, even as he watches York do the same. He grins wickedly at him. "I bet you like that, don't you? The idea of me just... wandering around your room naked. Maybe I will just laze around all day like this. Knowing that you're out there, training rookies, and thinking about it."

"...when'd you become evil, man. I missed that memo." But he's red and warm and can still taste David on the back of his tongue from earlier and staying in is starting to become massively important but-

But.

He's got work.

"Lunch. I'll- um. Be back with lunch. Be good." He grabs up what he needs and heads for the door, turns on his heel to stalk back over to the bed and lick his way into David's mouth. Just cuz he can. Just to leave him as breathless and aching as he is. "Okay. Going now."

"That's what you get for playing dead," Wash replies lightly. "If you don't leave a forwarding address..." Then how can you be expected to be kept up to date on your former comrade's slow descent into insanity and murder?

He clutches a hand against the back of York's neck when they kiss, holding him there for as long as he can, until he absolutely has to let go. It's an awkward position, but they make it work. "The sooner you go, the sooner you can get back, right?"

"Right, right. Going." One last quick kiss before he ducks out the door.

Okay. Drills. The recruits are far too energetic this morning and he's pretty sure he sees money exchange hands but it doesn't matter, they got work to do. Grappling, throwing, knife work, range work, running laps in formation. He's got them confident enough to be teaching the rest of the recruits in due time and that? Saves everyone some pain. There's only one of him. Kimball gets an actual memo about Wash taking a day and before he knows it lunch rolls around and it's salad.

He could cry.SALAD. someone has a garden on base or something. Grilled chicken and fresh vegetables and a canteen of tea, he brings it all back to his room on a tray.

He makes one short trip back to his own room to grab some stuff, dressed in his sweat pants and one of York's shirts. Grabs what he needs and then wraps himself back up in York's bed, a movie playing on the tablet.

On his own tablet, he starts to compile his files. Every scrap of information he has on Charon, on the Feds, on the Counsellor. All the official stuff is easy. The less legit stuff takes a bit more work, but he manages it. Supplements it all with his own notes, observations, anything that might be useful to York when he-

It'll have to be the communications. If he can get those working again, get rid of the dampening, then that makes a lot of things much easier. He can take Charon's mercenaries if he can surprise them. As long as Carolina isn't there then it should be fine.

The last bit is a recording. A confession. An apology. A last will and testament. Whatever.

Locks it all down with his own encryption, saves it to a hard drive that slides over the back of one of the dogtags he still wears. Wipes the tablet. Just in case.

He's drowsing, half asleep as he watches a movie when York returns with dinner.

Out cold. He figured if Wash had the time he'd curl up in a nest and just pass out like he used to on the MOI. Neither of them have really ever been in a place where it was safe to do that for the past couple of years, though. He's not surprised.

QUiet as he can manage (which is pretty damn) he closes the door behind him and sets the tray on the nightstand before reaching out to smooth the hair away from David's eyes. "Hey. Have a good lazy morning?"

He barely notices when York returns, which is probably a testament to how much he actually needs the sleep. How much he trusts York is probably closer to the mark though. He doesn't normally sleep as much as he has done.

He stirs a little when York strokes his hair, opening one eye, cat-like, to stare at him. "Mmmm. How were the kids? You're in one piece."

"Palomo's a good shot, Smith is better. Bitters is good at mid range, like you, and Jensen continues to surprise me by being a good all arounder. Also, wicked with knives. I've put her with Kimball on training up with Connie's tricks. Took her to the quartermaster to pick out her first throwing knife." It'd made him kind of proud, really. She reminds him a little of Connie, all quiet and observant and wickedly competent when possible.

It's nice normal stuff to hear. Better than he would have managed to get out of them, even if he'd wanted to actually help out before. York is good for them, good for everything. A safe pair of hands.

There's a kind of peace in it, in knowing what he's going to do, in having this planned out. It'll hurt like hell, assuming he survives. But it's the right thing. He hasn't had that certainty for a long time.

As it is, he reaches out to drag York back down for a kiss. "I think you've adopted."

"Mmm." He pulls away from the kiss to nuzzle David's cheek, fingers smoothing from his hair to his shoulder to his arm- just touching. Reveling in having someone to touch, in being allowed to touch. "I think they'll be ready to check out the closest village for the public records on the military bases next week. I'll run recon, make sure we're clear but it'll be a milk run. Easy."

Something they can look into with low risk, high reward. "probably be able to pick up some supplies then too."

York isn't alone in that. Wash's hands wander, smoothing down from shoulder to fingers, across what he can reach of York's chest. It's somewhere between a caress and checking to see that he's unhurt. That's he's still alive and real and here.

He rolls his eyes at the comment though. "Don't say that. You never say that. You have just guaranteed that everything is going to go wrong."

"I dunno, last time I said that you found me." So it can't be that bad. He slides up into the bed, tugging the tray across their laps. It's a little cramped but if he shifts just so and tucks himself up against David's side it's not half bad. "C'mon, food time. Then it's another round of drills for me."

"I also nearly shot you," Wash reminds him.

It takes a bit of wriggling and squishing up to get them to both fit; the bed was never made for two, but they manage it and it's comfortable if a little awkward.

"Lunch in bed. I'll start thinking that you're a romantic if you're not careful."

"Tried to shoot me. Tried and failed I might add." It's okay, he's moved on. He'd have taken a shot at whoever was in Wash's armor too if he could. But he was tired of the shooting. Tired of fighting, even if he's drawn his line in the sand here with them.

"When I make you breakfast in bed, then you know I"m romantic."

"Now you're just playing with semantics to soothe your wounded pride. I know it."

He'd been so angry. Now he's just... somewhere between determined and resigned, depending on how he feels at any given moment.

"You'd have to include coffee too, or I probably wouldn't notice most of it."

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