dappered | (no subject)

(no subject)

[ So.

It'd been two days since Wash left Church in that empty city. Two days of blissful quiet (except it was never completely silent, not in his head, not with the echoes that Epsilon had left and the whispers that Wash still heard sometimes when he was on the verge of sleep) and he put them to use, moving fast and efficiently and reminding himself darkly the entire time how much Church hinders him, how he was operating with much less efficiency when he had to babysit, etc.

How could he possibly expect to go after the Director with the ultimate AI as his partner if his partner was a bitching juvenile manipulative little bastard. Who thought that abusing his trust was okay. Who thought that doing things like--

( kissing him, he remembers, the pressure of his mouth, his taste, the softness of his throat under Wash's fingertips )

--like that was acceptable. No big deal. Just proving a point, bitch.

It's almost enough to make him not want to go back, when he reached the crest of a cliff and suddenly recognizes the scenery. A shallow lake, a valley surrounded by mountains, one Blue base, one Red base, and one crashed black ship.

Valhalla. Which, now that he'd been reminded about it, did have some unverified accounts of dead zones and abandoned outposts attached to the file he'd glanced through. Valhalla was situated where it was because of this and now apparently occupied by the remnants of the Blood Gulch teams, and while it was a huge relief to have concrete proof of where he was (still not how it happened, still nothing to explain his jailbreak and Church's miraculous physical form, and the only theory he has getting progressively uglier), it meant he had some decisions to make now. The Meta and the recording devices inside Freelancer Command had seen Church's A.I. form, however briefly. Church needed to be kept hidden, needed to be kept safe, and Wash had no intention of waltzing back into a jail cell. It's not ideal, but they can hide here. Or around here, in the caverns that run underneath the cliffs. And know, at least, that their closest neighbors aren't going to jump at the chance to turn them in to Command.

Church doesn't see it quite so rationally. Church points out, in the tone of voice reserved for deepest atrocity, that what is being suggested is really the same thing as going to a place that is close to Caboose.

Wash privately winces along with him at the thought, but remains adamant. Blah blah hiding place, blah blah fugitives, blah blah finding Epsilon, blah blah just get your fucking gear and stop arguing.

Wishful thinking. ]

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[ It's a good thing they're finally into the part of the caverns that have steel flooring and small blue lights affixed to the walls every couple meters, because otherwise Church might have missed the part where Wash just stops walking.

He can't believe Church just said that. He can't believe that Church would say that, like there was any other explanation when Church had pulled back with that fucking smirk he thought he was hiding, that smug tone of voice. ]

I think you're still very angry with me.

What the hell are you talking about now?

Apparently nothing you're prepared to accept past your comfort zone.

Why don't you tell me why you did it, then. If you can.

Why do I do anything? Because I wanted to. Why the fuck are you analyzing it?

That isn't why.

[ grimly ]

To protect yourself.

You seriously just piss me off, man.

So I've heard.

But since we're on this subject.

You said it would be easier if I just killed you to tie up loose ends. The same goes for you, too. You could run away and I could hunt you down. Or you could slip back in my head and put a gun barrel to my temple, and no one would ever be the wiser.

You could do it while I slept, and I wouldn't put any kind of resistance.

Right. Walk in the park.

[ Staring you down, bitch. If they're going to have this conversation they're going to have the entirety of it. ]

But you haven't done that.

Not an actual soldier, remember? Just a fucking computer in a field full of guinea pigs.

Edited 2009-10-05 05:59 (UTC)

You're not--

[ He stops himself. Church isn't going to listen to him anyway. ]

That would hardly matter to someone trying their best to survive. It's justified.

Are you seriously trying to have a conversation with me, or where is this going?

...

Come here.

Why the hell do I have to go all the way over there?

Don't be a sissy little bitch.

Okay?

[ so calm ]

Okay.

[ And then he decks Church as hard as he fucking can. ]

[ Oh no, kiddo. This is going to be the entire conversation that they've been needing to have.

Which is why he waits, very patiently, helmet off and set aside, for Church to recover (probably shouldn't have hit him so hard, not while Wash was in armor, should've thought of that) and doesn't say anything and lets Church push past him--

Or, rather, grab his shoulder the second he's past, spin him and shove him against the side of the cave wall before pinning him there bodily, his mouth hard on Church's and just as merciless. It's his turn to lick the blood from Church's split lip. ]

Edited 2009-10-05 06:46 (UTC)

[ Good, because Wash wasn't going to let him weasel out of it this time, if this was what he wanted, if this was the way he'd picked to deal with the trauma.

Being still fully armored except his helmet is not really a plus in this situation but he ignores it for the moment, grinding against Church and not giving a damn that he's probably crushing him into the wall. He nips sharply at his mouth between kisses, running gloved hands roughly down his sides, over his stomach, and then pushing his shirt up, exposing bare skin to the cooler air.

He likes this vague idea of being able to touch him while Wash can't be touched in turn, armor versus skin, the sturdy synthetic fabric of the gloves moving possessively over soft flesh.

[ The teeth in his lip earn a low, rumbling growl, displeasure or encouragement or maybe both, considering the way Wash forces an armored thigh between Church's legs so he has to spread them or fall over. The crushing-church-back-against-the-cave-wall pressure lessens a bit and Wash finally tears his mouth away, biting along the line of his jaw and then latching onto his neck, leaving faint red trails on his skin. ]

Wash had noticed and it just figured, really, that Church would be as mouthy and impulsive during this as he was everywhere else. He doesn't miss the catch of breath, the attempt to keep himself quiet, the fingers pressing into the back of his neck and he smirks against Church's skin, brief and silent, before opening his mouth again to suck hard on his neck and leave another telltale red mark.

Maybe this is meaningless, and Church will dismiss everything they do the way Church likes to dismiss things that don't fit in with his perspective of the world, or maybe he'll take it as some kind of proof that Wash doesn't think of him as a tool, a thing or maybe Church will just get pissed that it's just an extension of the fights they always have. Either way, he wants Church to see those marks in the mirror later. To put his hand up or be reminded by their soreness and remember this, remember this moment right here, every bitten off curse and gasp and bruise left by clutching fingers.

He increases the friction against Church so carefully, not wanting to hurt him, and methodically starts unbuckling his belt. ]