legionworld | Just Kidding [Open]

Who: Wash and whoever wants to visit him
What: Guess who has another near-death experience to add to the pile!
Where: Medbay
When: The day after this, so also after Time Ripples and Mind Slayer
Warnings/Notes: None yet

Wash wakes up slowly. He's sore, and in an unfamiliar bed, and for a brief moment he thinks of Connie and wonders if he doubled down on that mistake-

Oh. No, he's in medical. Different kind of mistake, then.

It doesn't take long for the staff to notice he's awake and give him the rundown. The bullet caused massive damage to his lung (entry wound was fairly standard; exit wound was a mess); he's only alive because Chief and Dave brought got him to medical in time, and even then he was touch and go for a little bit; yes, that is Dave in the bed next to him, but it's exhaustion from power overuse and he'll be fine once he's had some rest; Wash has healed up fine thanks to his healing factor, but he's still on bed rest until tomorrow at the earliest. The nurse imparting that last piece of information has one of the sternest glares he thinks he's ever seen, and they don't let up until Wash raises his hands in surrender. "Okay. Bed rest. Got it."

That's evidently good enough, and they leave him to his own devices and thoughts he'd rather avoid. Superheroing for months, facing down assassins in his fucking memories and twisted amped-up comic villains and Darth Vader, and he nearly dies because of a sniper that wasn't in the briefing of a mission that should've been a milk run. Christ.

He wonders if the news got out. It's been more than twelve hours, so probably. That probably caused one hell of a ruckus. He can probably look forward to having company, then. Should be fun, for certain what-do-you-mean-you-nearly-died-again flavors of "fun."

Maybe he can catch someone before they come in and get them to bring him fruit from the mess. He can hope, right?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Fair." He snorts softly, shaking his head. "Still, man. Grey is not a good look for me. I'm the young hot one now, remember?"

Joking is easier than analyzing the depths of Wash's comment. He's lived the longest- and without question lost the most. "You're fine now which is- disconcerting but kickass. Medical tech is pretty sweet."

"Well, it's a good thing I've taken care of that for you." He gives a mocking hair-model head-shake, because premature gray is sexy, right?

...well, it probably would be on York.

He shrugs. "The healing factor helps too."

"Never not gonna be trippy, but hey. You rock the whole 'silverish fox' thing pretty well." No curl to his smirk that means he's spinning bullshit. If Wash wasn't, well, wash. If they didn't have their history and were york his younger, more casual self (again)?

All the cheezy pickuplines. All of them.

"Probably helped keep you alive, really. That and a good team." Funny how that makes a world of a difference, huh? "So...what happened? I didn't hear much other than 'critical condition' and vegan space future HIPPA is a thing."

As far as he can tell, York is being completely sincere, which. Jesus fucking Christ. "I just got over a bullet wound. You are not allowed to give me a heart attack." Because humor fixes everything, right?

"A sniper happened, because evidently in the vegan spacefuture street gangs have snipers." It's wry at best - he'd gotten shot because he'd made assumptions and hadn't been paying enough attention and he damn well knows it. "So keep an eye out the next time you go to break up a heist."

"What? You're hot." The sky is blue, the grass is green, Wash won puberty. "Seriously, I'd be following you around like a jackass duckling instead of Carolina if you looked like this back then."

York isn't joking, which means this has gone out of teasing territory and barreled into downright weird. Wash can feel his face turning red; it's all he can do to maintain eye contact. "I swear to God, I will find a grapefruit." You've been warned.

"Take the compliment." He shrugs. "Built, competent, can break me with a breakfast fruit...yeah. it's have been a problem."

Unlike now with their relationship of mutual respect. Kinda.

"Evidently it's a problem now." Guess who never really got over going prematurely gray and doesn't know how to take a compliment? This guy.

"Not really. Well-" He sits back for half a second and gives Wash a good, long, detailed once over with the eyes of a younger version of him looking for a good time or a good extended time via an engaging relationship. "...like. A year ago? Yeah it'd be a problem. Now? No."

A beat.

"Just- barely. If only because I'm pretty sure I'm not your type and I don't swing for people I'm not likely to land."

Wash has gone so red he feels like he's been sunburned (and probably looks like it, too). He sputters a bit during York's very obvious perusal of him, and evidently he only just avoided being on York's radar because York knows his type-

Yeah no that's a bit more than he can handle right now. He snatches a pillow off the bed and hurls it at York's face. "Out!"

"What-" He crackles with laughter, but there's not a single hint of a shit eating grin on his face as he catches the pillow. "Seriously, Wash, I'd've dated the shit out of you. Romanced you so sweetly-"

But he takes 'out' for what it is, stopping only to set Wash's pillow in the chair he'd been sitting in on his way out. "Called you honey-bear and everything!"

With that he blows Wash a kiss and ducks out, shaking his head. Man, what could've been.

Just Kidding [Open]

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