Posts tagged wash.
RvB: Graduation (Happy Birthday, Nem!)
He held her hand softly, fingers interlaced. “What’s your favourite graduation?” he whispered, keeping this tradition of small, harmless, personal questions in the dark. She was always herself when no one could see her.
“What do you mean?” she said, genuine.
“Mine was fifth grade.” He turned and gestured out into the room, even if it was so dark he knew she couldn’t see. “We all got tiny caps and gowns like we were graduating high school, but it only took ten minutes because you can’t make nine year olds sit still for much longer. We got a giant piece of paper and then threw our hats at each other. My parents bought me ice cream.” He squeezed her hand a little before adding, explaining, “my mother had passed away by my high school graduation. It was so much longer, too. More stuffy.”
She raised their hands and kissed the back of his. Compassion. Another thing she was so good at, in the dark. “Last time my parents were together was in Kindergarten.” She gave it more thought, and Wash heard her lick her lips. “I think my favourite is college. It was long. Neither of my parents came. I didn’t get ice cream,” she added, with a smile. “But I did it. Without any help, I did it.”
They lay there in silence for a while, her thumb making circles over his. “Did you join right after?” he said.
“Yep,” Connie nodded, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I’d just graduated college. I thought I could do anything.”
“You can,” he said, without thought. Without hesitation. She squeezed his hand.
“Sometimes, I think so too.” She rolled over, closer to him, and he smiled as she fell asleep, slowly, into his arms.
“You seem like you’d be the type to fall in love often,” she said, and he wasn’t sure why he took offense to it.
“Is that wrong?” Wash stammered, half defensive, half apologetic. “How many times have you been in love, then?”
“Twice.” The number hung in the air, filling the space between them with intimidation. “Once in high school. It was probably more puppy love than anything. And then again, just after college.”
“We grew up,” she said with a shrug. “We didn’t grow up together, so when I left for training, there wasn’t anything to sustain.” Connie said all of this looking at the ceiling. His sheets covered her bare hips, just a corner. She had declared it too hot and lacked the modesty to care that the rest of her lay exposed in the dark. The number two floating between them. Or maybe just over him. “I bet you tell girls you love them after a month.”
He crossed his arms, laying down on his back next to her and pouting slightly. “What of it?”
“Doesn’t it, I don’t know, cheapen it? If you say it so often.”
“How can it cheapen what you feel? I say it because it’s true.” She turned to him, looking at him with that intense curiosity that always made him want to share secrets.
“How do you have so much? I mean. You’d run out eventually. You’d get hurt and you’d stop saying it so often because it lets people hurt you.”
“It lets people love you,” he corrected, holding to his point. All defense now.
“Love hurts,” she concluded, rolling back again.
“People hurt,” he corrected again. “Love-“
“I’m tired,” she said, with a certain finality. I’m tired of this conversation. I’m tired of love.
It took him three months longer to say it to her. And three weeks shorter to feel it.
She kept pacing on the flight deck, making a semicircle around the decidedly empty pilot seat. Mal had never seen her walk so much without a purpose.
RvB Prompt: Whispers
Prompt from Nem: You’re one of my secrets, too. Wash/CT
She always thought he spoke in little private bursts, moments he makes his own as he leans into her ear. She used to accuse him of stealing them, but the more she got to know him, the more she realized that stealing anything was far too dishonest for him. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about that. But she knew how she felt when he would lean over during lunch and mutter something only for her ears, and stolen or not, it was private. It was intimate. It was just like him.
He always thought she was telling him a secret. The way she smiled when he starined to hear, and the small laugh she always had when he asked her to repeat something. Sometimes she slipped him notes, and he thought he was in some kind of spy movie, and the paper would self-destruct after he read it. The more he got to know her, the more she seemed like a secret herself, from her words to her laugh to her smile to the way she held his hand. No one had ever trusted him with a secret before.
poolwatcher asked: Prompt: "I believe we lied, even though we said it was the truth. We were never in love with each other, it only felt just the same." Pairing/character of your choice.
“Love doesn’t come easy,” he said one night, and she frowned in the darkness.
“Shouldn’t it, though?” she said, rustling herself free from his embrace to turn and face him. “Shouldn’t it just be easy and natural? Shouldn’t it come when we feel it, and without having to fight for it?”
“No one writes about the ones that come easy,” he offered, after a moment.
“That’s because everyone writes with a broken heart,” she said back, turning around again so his face was buried between her shoulder blades.
He was quiet for a while, breathing her in to gather courage. She felt him tense up and ask, “does this come easy to you? I mean, natural?”
“Yes,” Connie answered, eyes open in the darkness. As he relaxed into her, she smiled and pressed against him, all second thoughts gone. This feeling, this smell, his arms around her. This was love. Surely, this was love.
Later, she would think, loving and lying are only a few letters apart.
completelysane asked: For Wash/CT: "But I will not chase your shadow as you go from room to room/dropping handkerchiefs and daggers, smoking guns and other clues"
CT never thought herself hard to find, not for someone who had all of the Freelancer network at their disposal. Sure, the Insurrectionists had done their best hiding her behind a new voice and a new signal and, for good measure, in the middle of a desert, but she knew better than to think the Director didn’t know about it. She still spent those first few months waiting for someone, someone very specific, to do just a little digging and follow the smoking trail of self destruction that she left in her wake.
completelysane asked: "There’s no one to talk to/All I can think/Is your eyes are full of train smoke/And your mouth tastes like rain/And I know when I know nothing/I will always know your name" Wash/CT, maybe AU where she stays during the time he's implanted.
For the longest time since meeting him, she refused to call him anything other than Wash. Washington was never even an option. She remembered when he introduced himself and said “David”, our of habit. His cheeks turned red and he immediately tried to correct it, saying he wasn’t used to code names. She cut him off and said her name was Connie, and he thought she’d also confessed her real name for an entire month. York had come up to her later and said his name was Wash, when she asked what it was short for, York laughed. She looked it up in on a map later.
“David,” she would say as she sat next to his hospital bed, her hand tentatively next to his but never touching. It always calmed him down. It took her a few days to realize she should try it. She’d been saying “Wash” with no effect.
She only had another few days left. He hadn’t opened his eyes yet.
She kept going back and forth on her goodbye. If he was still unconscious, it might be easier. She thought about taking his hand. Maybe kissing him. Would she kiss David? Would she even kiss Wash at this point?
He moved again, and whimpered. She leaned close and whispered that everything was going to be alright.
That she was here for him.
Here for you,
The Kind You Want to Tell
From Nem: I also request Wash telling Internals that someone besides CT was the traitor.
It would be a really simple lie. He knew how to be dishonest. Like when his mother made meatloaf and he told her it was his favourite food. It was basically the same thing, wasn’t it? When he met with a bunch of high school girls from a different district and he awkwardly told them he was two years older, eighteen, almost graduated. Or when he fed his peas to the dog for half a year straight and got congratulated by his mom, then yelled at by his dad when he got caught. Or how he tells North that he likes Captain America better even though Superman is clearly the superior superhero.
It was just like a white lie. Well, maybe slightly grayish.
“I think you should take a closer look at Wyoming,” he said in one controlled breath. There. It wasn’t that bad.
It was just like telling Connie that he didn’t mean it when he said “I love you.”
Y’all Come Back Now
Text prompt from Nem: “he’s a cowboy lost in a long steel hall, see how he can run.”
They had told him time and time again that he didn’t need the accent in order to be a cowboy. They weren’t even sure what accent he was trying to do, because at eight years old, all David knew was that he didn’t want to be an Indian. Their names were cooler, but cowboys got to wear boots. He liked his boots. He had attached cardboard spurs to them for authenticity.
He’d think about that classic game with the neighborhood kids in the program a lot. Happy memories were hard to come by towards the end. He’d remember how much he struggled to sound like he was from Texas and hung out in a smoky, musty saloon. He remember how he’d always elongate the wrong vowel for the accent he was going for.
He remember it when the Director spoke. It got harder and harder to listen to him, towards the end.
completelysane asked: Prompt: "I will love you as a dagger loves a certain person’s back, and as a certain person loves to wear dagger proof tunics..." ~Lemony Snicket. Wash/CT, Sandtrap.
“It’s like you don’t trust me,” she murmured with a small grin, that half joking manner that they were finally coming back to. He scoffed, the sound harsh in her ear piece, and walked past her pointedly as she was loading up her gun, exposing belly, back, unarmed, unfisted hands. “I’m not so sure you should, anyway,” she added, and took aim before he had time to turn.
queen-of-france asked: "I'll love you to death, I guess that's what you get/ And I don't know where we are all going to/ Love don't get stranger, it is what it is/ And I don't know where we are all going to/ Everything happens today, and that's what you get/ And I don't know where we are all going to" - Spiritualized, "Ladies And Gentlemen We're Floating In Space"
“I always hated that question,” she said accusingly, staring Wash down as if it would prevent him from asking it. “It’s my last chance,” he explained, and she tried to sigh but she was too busy being nervous and anxious, planning her way off this ship for good, in five minutes’ time. “Where do we go from here?” he said, softly, and she looked at him with all the harshness she could find and said in a voice that only cracked twice, “we don’t.”
completelysane asked: 15 for Wash/CT and 1 for Supernatural (any character/pairing is fine but Sam is my fave!)
15. kissing to save the day
“So, you remember that Firefly episode, The Train Job?” Wash asked a bit nervously. Connie glared at him.
“I can’t believe you’re going to get us arrested, Wash,” she repeated. “This is not how I wanted to spend my mandatory vacation.”
“I’d argue that York and North are going to get us arrested, by running away faster than us. And then picking that lock at the end of the alley.” He noticed her still glaring at him and decided to backpedal a bit. “But anyway, the episode, right?”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“Good. Think of that as context,” he said and slammed her against the alley wall, kissing her just as five police officers, two squad cars, and one helicopter ran past the entrance to the small abandoned street. One of the officers paused to look at their silhouette, let out a small chuckle, and kept going.
“Uh, guys?” York appeared a bit later, maybe a minute, maybe ten. “They’re gone. You can stop now.”
Wash immediately backed off of Connie, his cheeks slowly reddening. She looked at him, licking her lips thoughtfully, and said “The Train Job, huh?”
“It was inspiration,” he replied sheepishly.
North clapped him on the back, still drunk, and loudly declared “I can’t even believe that worked. Or that she kissed you. I really can’t believe she kissed you.” The other three shushed him hurriedly.
“Alright kids,” York said, “time to get out of here, but do it calmly. They always chase a running man.”
“You were going to be an astronaut?” Dean said one day, driving the impala down the road at predictably unsafe speeds.
“Yeah,” Sam said, a bit quietly. “I mean, before you came and got me-“
“I thought you were going to be a lawyer.” He picked up a leftover bag of chip crumbs from three days ago and emptied it into his mouth, blocking his vision of the road ahead with perfect accuracy.
“I did too, but, you know, once I got there-“
“-space? Dude, you were in space?”
Sam’s mouth twitched softly at his brother’s disbelief, somewhere between a smile and a frown. “Forget it. We hunt demons now.”
“If this doesn’t work out, Sammy, we’re gonna take you, me, and dad as soon as we find him, and you’re going to fly our asses to a demon-free moon.”
“Yeah,” Sam resigned, looking out the window now. “Sounds like a plan.”
They gave him the name of Recovery One because, at its heart, Project Freelancer was still an optimist.
RvB: To Have and To Farm With
“You want her to do what?” Simmons said, the first to speak after the silence that had settled upon the lovely couple’s announcement.
“Marry us!” Donut said easily.
“She’s the highest-ranked officer here,” Doc said. “It’s important we stand on ceremony.”
“Why can’t you just stomp on it like we always do?” Grif said. “Hell, I could marry you.”
“You’re a Private Junior, I’m pretty sure that means you can’t marry people. We want you to be the ring bearer, though!” Donut produced two small circles made of straw stalks. “And Sarge, if you could be my maid of honor-“
“Absolutely not! As commander of the Red Army, I demand to be the highest ranking official! Is there something higher than maid of honor?”
Donut thought for a moment. “Matron of honor?”
“I’ll be that one! Just don’t expect me to color match. I’m wearing red.”
“And Simmons, if you could be my best man,” Doc started, but was cut off by an overwhelmed Simmons rushing forward to his him.
“I thought you’d never ask!” the maroon soldier chocked out through small, happy sobs. Doc patted Simmons on the back, carefully, before continuing.
“And as my best man, you’re going to have to ask Carolina to officiate the ceremony. Right? Right. Thanks. Go get her!”
Simmons immediately straightened up. “I resign.”
“No take-backs!” Donut accused before turning Simmons and roughly pushing him towards the base that held the key ingredient. He grudgingly walked over to Blue Base and was greeted by Caboose and Tucker arguing over who gets the room closer to the kitchen. Simmons coughed politely so as not to disturb their struggle over who needs more cookies.
“What the fuck do you want?” Tucker said, knowing he’s about to lose the fight for the prime room at the base.
“I need to talk to Carolina. I guess. And Wash. Actually, I need to talk to all of you. Together.”
Caboose turned to the base and yelled out “New-Church and scary blue lady, Simmons needs to talk to us!” Upon reflection, he added, “and also I call dibs on the room next to the kitchen no tagbacks!”
“Dude, that didn’t even make fucking sense,” Tucker muttered as Wash and Carolina slowly filed out of the base, their patience noticeably thin. “Yes?” Wash said.
“Ahem,” Simmons started, looked at his audience, and said the next sentence in one breath. “You are all semi-cordially invited to Doc and Donut’s wedding and also Carolina you’ll be the one marrying them it’s in half an hour at red base alright awesome see you then.” He then turned around and briskly ran away as he heard the confusion settle and Carolina raise her gun at him in annoyance. He reported back to one of the grooms with a smile and a “they’ll be here in half an hour”, both slightly out of breath. Donut didn’t question it.
Sure enough, in half an hour, Caboose, Tucker, and Carolina walked over. When they were greeted by Doc, Carolina hurriedly explained. “Wash couldn’t make it. He, uh, he had to run a few more files, and he felt bad about holding you guys up anyway on your very special day.”
Doc stared hard at the blue freelancer, sighed, and then mumbled a “just make sure your voice modulator doesn’t malfunction mid-ceremony, Wash. I mean, Carolina.”
RvB Drabble: Terse
“You’re sure about this?” Tex said, again. York rolled his eyes, the effort lost behind his helmet. “We can’t come back to save them.”
“She told me to go,” York muttered finally. That shut Tex up as they were packing, taking armor and ammo and weapons, taking data and provisions and proof.
“I’m sorry,” she said, putting the message from CT on a chain around her neck. “What about your bunkmate? He’s still-“
“He’s not going to wake up.” There was a sigh in every syllable of that sentence.
“But the doctors said-” she started, unsure why she’s spending this time convincing him out of the act she had spent months persuading him to consider. Something felt weird. He was too quiet.
“Wash isn’t coming back. Not from that. It doesn’t matter if he wakes up.” He picked up his weapon. “I don’t like ghost stories, Tex. Let’s just…let’s go.”