goddamngrenades | RP Open Post

"Oh hell no. I went from basic to combat maneuvers in under a week. Mostly scouting missions so sometimes they were milkruns and sometimes they were clusterfucks." Guess which kind got his whole squad killed in an ambush? Protip: Not the milkrun. "But I'm try'n to be a better superior officer than ones under an insane amount of pressure cuz of a war or the stupidly low bar set by the project."

"Think mine was the same," Wash says, shrugs. "Saw combat almost as soon as they could hand out rifles." Lucky he'd been a good shot. Luck was all that had kept him alive to even get to Freelancer. "Lost most of them. Planet got glassed." It's one of the memories that he's glad has been warped and muted by Epsilon. It's dulled now, like sepia toned films from centuries ago. Like it happened to someone else.

"Jesus christ, Rookie." He mutters, staring forward at the winding paths of the caves. If he looks back he'll flip the damn mongoose and that won't help anyone.

Wash tilts his head, staring at the back of York's. "Not like it's that uncommon. Nothing special." It had happened to enough places that he's amazed they ever ended the war. Guess people were too terrified to even think of fighting on after that though. Near Extinction does that.

"A plane gett'n glassed is horrifying no matter how common it was, kid. Global genocide is kind of a terrible thing, you know?" Like he needs to be reminded of that. Jesus.

"That's not- I didn't mean it like that. I just meant... plenty of people who saw it happen. Lost people. I was just one of the lucky fucks who got out in time."

He swallows, forces himself not to slump. "Yeah. I know."

"And every one of them has a bucket of issues from watching it happen." Because it's horrifying. "Better lucky than good. Times like this I think it might've been better to be good."

"I'll add those issues to my tab," Wash says, dry as hell. "We just can't stop surviving. It's our curse."

Soon enough they're coming up on the base- the kids keeping the schedule he gave them that morning and Kimball waiting for a sitrep. "Gotta report in with the boss. Meet you for dinner?"

He's impressed by how effortlessly York has integrated himself with the base. Kimball trusts him. Likes him more than she ever liked Wash. Not that Wash gave her much reason to get any closer than needed.

He nods. Glances over at the kids. "Yeah. I'll look forward to it."

"Something a little more low key than last night. No need to dress for it." He swings off the Mongoose and pats Wash on the shoulder, jogging over to where Kimball kept her office.

"Awww, and here I really wanted to show off the rest of my wardrobe." He nudges York back and watches until he's gone before heading back to his own quarters.

/Not negotiable, Washington./

The reply is there in flashing text when he checks. She's pissed. Impatient.

/Where were you?/ is the snarl when he calls. /You missed check in./

"I was doing my job," he replies. Lays everything he has weapons wise out on the bunk. All of it. He'll need all of it. More than that. He'll hit one of the caches when he heads out.

/We need him out of here. He's too dangerous. We're lucky I'm not just asking you to shoot him./

"Look he-... he's good here. They like him. Worship him. Better to wait for an assault. Take him out then. They'll fight tooth and nail to get revenge for him. He'll be a martyr."

/Got other plans./

"What? Carolina-"

/Don't question me Wash. Just get him here./

It comes with a flare of coordinates and a dead connection.

Fuck. No, this can't be happening. Why now?

He shoves what he can into a duffle, everything that he doesn't need, stashes it under the bed for now. Gives York too much clue if he runs now. Can't have him catching up.

He sets aside the armour for now, does what he can to make sure it's in top condition, then heads over to the mess. Waits for York.

The meeting is a short one, lays out what he found, what Wash said he found, his suspicions. Kimball signs off on it for early in the morning and he manages to swing in for the kids and explain the job. Sends them all to bed early. Then and only then does he dress down into less delicious jeans and his old, worn ass grifball tee and walk into the mess, bumping Wash's shoulder with his.

"We're all good to head out at 0400. Told the kids, not too happy but I sent 'em to bed with a promise they might actually get to blow something up so I think they're happy." Happy enough.

Wash grins at him, shifts over to give him room to sit. "Explosives do make the best bribes. Even for early bedtimes. Guess it's just us for the night then."

Mhmm. You and me and whatever they have in the kitchen tonight. You sit, I'll get our food, awright?" He doesn't give Wash time to answer, just kisses him on the cheek and starts in that direction.

"Sure. Wow, the service here has really improved since you got here," he teases, then sits back, as relaxed as he can be.

"It helps if you smile." HE calls over his shoulder. Doesn't take long for him to return. with some sort of steamed veggies, rice, and thinly sliced beef in a brown sauce. It's food and food is good and it didn't come from a can so- he'll count it as a win.

Wash gives him a teasing smirk in response and damn it smells good. "And that's easier when the waiter is really hot."

"I still expect a tip." Trays down and he sidles up next to Wash, casually tucking an arm around his waist as he starts digging in to his own meal.

It shouldn't feel so right after what? A day? But damn it does. It's perfect to lean against York's side, just a little, let him be the support. "I'm sure something can be worked out."

He grins and digs into his food.

"Maybe if you play your cards right I'll even give you my number." He snorts a soft laugh, nosing into the underside of David's jaw to press a kiss there.

It makes him shiver in the best kind of way. Tilts his head to the side to give York better access. Savours it. "Careful. I'll start thinking that you like me."

"Maybe just a little." Another soft kiss. "Maybe a lot."

He chuckles a little, the sound strained. "Maybe the feeling is mutual." He rested a hand on York's thigh, squeezing it for a moment.

"I think I can live with that." One last nip of Wash's earlobe before he leans back and resumes eating, hand on Wash's waist dipping down now and then to squeeze his hip.

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