Evergreen and Amber

Act 1: Snowblind

York winced and shoved Wash's head down, half-burying his companion in the snow as a patrol of heavily-armed soldiers stomped past. "Sorry, bud!" he whispered, peering over the snowbank and releasing his grip from the other chupa's head once the soldiers had continued past. "Whew. Man, these guys are persistent..."

Wash spat out a mouthful of snow and scowled up at York before glaring at the facility before them. He made a face, then hugged himself to try and stop some of the shivering. "Yeah, well, maybe if you hadn't tried to answer a question about gene therapy, we c-could have left i-in one p-piece," he growled through chattering teeth.

York grinned dumbly even as he eyed the smaller chupa with concern. "Hey, we're still in one piece! Even if you shoulda brought a damn winter coat."

"I probably h-had one, you know, in the b-b-back of the jeep we had until about fuh-f-five minutes ago..." Wash glowered up at him again and York scratched sheepishly at his muzzle. "Half our gear's on fire b-b-because someone wasn't p-patient enough to leave e-everything at the c-c-campsite..."

York chuckled quietly, knowing better than to argue. They'd been hiding in the snow for nearly thirty minutes now, waiting for a chance to dash away unseen. York was fine in the stuff, his thick hide and rarely-utilized jacket keeping him insulated. Wash, on the other hand...well, hopefully they'd kill the damn alarms soon and they could get the hell out.

The mission was supposed to be relatively simple. Word on the wire was that the House was expanding the infamous research and development facility in Sampi. It warranted a closer look, Wash figured. York had also been able to wheedle from Andee a couple of the high-security ID cards that the bat had recently 'acquired' with Samael's help, giving them the perfect excuse to bother with the risky proposition of sneaking into a closely-monitored House facility.

It was a lot easier to simply saunter in through the front door rather than trying to slip in through the back, after all.

The cards had worked like a charm -- Drs. Rhumba and Bucks were waved through security with only a brief secondary glance at the newly-created identification badges. And even with Wash having been annoyed with York's choice of cover identities...they did the job well enough. Even if Wash had to double-take every time someone addressed him as Dr. Bucks.

They'd gotten into the building and proceeded to wander as casually as possible through several wings, including the ones under construction. There were definitely new projects underway that dealt with biological enhancements and experimentation on 'volunteers' from across Sirca, and York knew Wash was wishing he'd had his pockcom on his wrist to try and take notes of everything. Mental pictures were gonna have to suffice.

The whole thing was going fine until a scientist had engaged 'Dr. Rhumba' on genetic anomalies and the current theories of manipulating the very structure of the chupa genetic code.

York had apparently decided that his own inclusion in Project Werewolf made him an expert, and despite Wash trying several times to pull his compatriot away on the basis of "oh we were supposed to meet the team in five minutes" and "hey isn't it about time for that coffee break", York couldn't help himself. And to his credit, he started off okay...but once he began explaining how "and then what if you found the stuff that makes you ripped but like so you could do it on command and just say 'GET PUMPED' and suddenly you're just jacked as hell -- how awesome would that be???" while using his arms to gesture excitedly...it was safe to say the researcher was a tad suspicious.

...And ten minutes later they were racing for the nearest exit, ducking under stray bullets and shoving past panicked scientists as klaxons blared throughout the facility. The jeep they'd arrived in was right there, though whether or not that was fortunate was still up for debate. They'd gotten maybe fifteen yards past the main gate before an RPG clipped the back wheel and sent the jeep -- and its contents -- tumbling into the snow. York and Wash had been forced to move quickly on foot, abandoning the flipped vehicle to instead take cover in the safety of a deep snowbank to wait out the patrols that had swiftly fanned out to search the premises.

They'd taken a moment to check over each other for any bullet holes they might have missed, but they were lucky in that regard, at least. Now it was only the cold they were fighting, though that wasn't much of a relief.

Wash grumbled and rubbed his arms while resting back against the bank. "C-Christ, I can't believe people actually live out here. Explains a lot about S-S-Samael, though. You n-need to be half-insane just to s-survive this b-b-bullshit..."

York half-grinned and took another cursory glance around before frowning at the sniper he saw on the roof, keeping his head low. "Sammy's not so bad. A little insanity goes a long way in this world." He watched Wash for a few seconds as his shivering increased. "Okay, seriously, take my jacket." He started to take it off but Wash shook his head and shot him a look.

"I'm f-f-fine, York. Besides, you'll stand out like a s-sore thumb, you don't exactly bl-blend in with the snow."

York glanced down at the light-grey coat he sported, a far more natural look in the tundra environment than his tan fur. His eyes flicked nevertheless to Wash again, hating the way he could see right through his companion's facade. "Alright, but do me a favor and at least try to shut up for a little, save your strength. Camp's 'bout two klicks back, and we're probably gonna wanna move fast."

"Don't w-worry about me," Wash muttered into his folded arms, visibly straining to hide his shivering. "Just t-tell me when we start r-r-running..."

York smiled slightly and nodded. "Okay. Hope that weird diet of yours pays off."

"It's not w-w-weird. Just not a lot of c-c-carbs," Wash huffed as he rubbed a bicep through his thin jacket.

"Uh huh. That's why you got no damn meat on your bones," York commented while peering across the top of the snowdrift. He only heard one siren now...which he supposed was an improvement from two. "All that coffee ya think no one sees you guzzle probably isn't helping, either, ya know."

Wash rolled his eyes and idly reached down to massage one of his paws. York continued to watch him but stayed silent, knowing all to well that the stubborn resistance leader would only act more bullheaded if he caught the concerned looks. After a few seconds, he glanced back toward the facility and then perked a bit. "Ah. Guys on the roof are gone," he noted as his eyes scanned the surrounding area. "I think we're gonna have to mark that hog as a loss...but we didn't have much still in there, right?"

"My s-sl-sleeping bag and the stuff to m-m-make a fire," Wash replied drolly. "B-But no, n-nothing important."

York smirked. "Cold hasn't affected your charming personality, at least..." He stood up slowly and received an immediate glare from Wash. But he only grinned back. "Hey, look, better if they shoot me over you."

"You're s-such an ins-s-sufferable ass s-s-sometimes," Wash sighed, shaking his head. "C-Coast clear?"

York responded by holding out a muscular arm with a smile. "Time to run, buddy."

"J-Just like old times," Wash mumbled, gripping into York's thick forearm and allowing himself to be yanked out of the snow.

York chortled, automatically moving to steady his friend and reaching around to brush the excess snow from his back. "Old times, my ass. We were runnin' our hides off just last quarter." He laughed quietly before his eyes flicked up as he spotted a patrol sweeping back around from the far end of the building. "Whoops, we gotta scoot!"

"Ju-just like old times," Wash repeated ironically as York nudged him gently into a jog with a snicker.

York tried to stay near Wash as they ran, but the smaller chupa grumbled and waved him off every few minutes, leaving York to eventually give in and lead the way. He'd always been better at navigating the wilds, anyway. He smiled as the siren faded into the distance -- they'd lost the jeep, but York was pretty sure they'd lost any possible pursuers, too. A fair trade off, if he thought so himself. "This whole thing coulda gone worse, eh?" he sang out, looking back at Wash with a grin.

Wash glanced up sluggishly, his grumpy features somehow grumpier thanks to the frost accumulating on his muzzle and cheeks. "Y-Y-York, a g-g-goddamn bl-blizzard is rolling in..."

York grinned cheerfully, spinning around to jog backward with his arms wide, seemingly oblivious to the growing wind that whistled around them and sent shards of snow and ice dancing over his broad form. "Aww, c'mon! A li'l weather is no reason to not celebrate getting out alive!" When Wash only glared daggers at him, York started to shrug off his jacket. "Alright, enough of you being a stubborn jackass -- take my damn coat!"

"N-n-no, I'm f-fine," Wash insisted, struggling to raise an arm to wipe the frost from his maw. "Besides, we gotta be cl-close...r-r-right?"

York chuckled as he twisted about neatly on a paw again and studied the woods. "I mean...halfway's closer than a quarter of the way, at least!"

"Oh, g-great," Wash's voice trickled out, followed by a dull thud.

York blinked as he peered over his shoulder and then smiled faintly at the sight of his companion flopped face-first into the snow. "Dammit, Wash..." He sighed and quickly approached the other chupa, scooping him up easily in his arms and gently brushing some of the snow from his collar before cradling him against his chest. "Now it's like old times," he intoned wistfully, keeping Wash held securely as he fell into a steady lope back toward their campsite.

York grimaced, using his teeth to delicately open the front of the tent as the wind howled across his bare back. Wash had drifted in and out of his daze on the way back to the campsite and he'd protested in his infuriatingly stubborn way when York had finally peeled off his jacket to wrap his slender body in. It hadn't been enough to stop Wash's uncontrollable shivering, though.

Once he managed to squirm into the thankfully-sturdy tent with his compatriot still in his arms, York laid Wash down onto the sleeping bag and then proceeded to quickly seal up the tent and shake the icicles and clumps of snow from his back. Wash was only semi-conscious, muttering half-witted things under his breath as he fidgeted and shuddered under York's damp jacket. York frowned and scratched at his muzzle for a few seconds before shrugging and tossing the coat aside so he could proceed to gingerly peel Wash's own soaked jacket and pants away from his trembling body. "Hang in there, buddy, gonna get you warmed up in a sec," he murmured.

When Wash was free of the frozen garments, York wasted no time easing his companion into the sleeping bag. "There we go!" Except that he could still see his breath, not to mention the way Wash's teeth were chattering loud enough to nearly drown out the raging storm outside. York grimaced as he looked around the tent. Nothing he could really use as a heater...and he certainly couldn't build a fire inside. "Hmmm." His eyes locked onto Wash and he half-smiled. "Not lettin' you go out like this, Wash."

He reached down to undo his belt and slide his own waterlogged pants down, exhaling sharply at the rush of cold air over his nude form. "Goddamn, Sammy, your people really are crazy assholes," he muttered as he hugged himself and danced quickly across the cold tent surface to the sleeping bag. "A'right, then, just like they taught us during survival training..."

...Squeezing his bulky frame into the bedroll was a bit of a feat, but York eventually managed to squirm in behind Wash and carefully zip the insulated fabric around them both. He wrapped one arm around Wash's side and propped his head up with the other, watching the smaller male for any hints of a worsening condition. Wash continued to shiver against his broad chest, but as they laid together and his heat started to circulate within the sleeping bag, the trembling slowed.

York smiled a bit to himself and shifted slightly to find a more comfortable position behind his companion, squeezing Wash delicately with his arm. The Movement leader could be such a obstinate ass at times...and combined with the fact that York actually knew Wash was capable of surviving a lot more than most gave him credit for, it made him pretty goddamn annoying to deal with when his own self-preservation was at risk. "Just because you can potentially get through something by yourself doesn't mean you have to, dumbass," he grumbled, mostly to himself.

Except Wash stirred a second or two later, mumbling and squirming a bit under York's powerful half-embrace. "Oh g-geez, it's c-c-cold," he said, his shivering seeming to double as he regained consciousness. "Wh-where are...th-this the tent?" He blinked unevenly before looking slowly down at the muscular forearm looped over his chest. "W-w-wait, Y-York??"

Wash tilted his head back enough so he could stare up at York's easy grin behind him. "'Sup, dude?"

"Wh-what the hell are y-y-you d-doing?" Wash got out between his violent trembling, instinctively pressing back against the far-warmer body of his friend despite his instinctive attempt to shift away.

"Sorta saving your life, I guess, don't make it weird," York replied bemusedly, a smile teasing his features as he nudged the back of Wash's leg with a knee. "There's a damn blizzard out there and you didn't spring for the tent with a built-in fireplace."

"Oh h-ha, ha," Wash mumbled, twitching when York's arm moved along his side and settled across his chest again to keep him held securely. "S-seriously, Y-Y-York, I'm f-f-f-fine..."

As if protesting his own idiocy, Wash's body shivered hard enough that York found himself wrapping his other arm around Wash's shoulders and collarbone to steady the poor thing. "Uh huh. Hey, I toldja you needed a parka, didn't I?" York snorted in soft amusement. "All the ways the leader of the Movement could die, and you pick hypothermia. C'mon, now, that's way too lame, couldn't let you go out that way."

"G-g-gee, th-thanks," Wash stated through clenched teeth before he grouchily bucked his hips backward. "And s-s-screw you, th-th-this mission was supposed t-to be in and o-o-out..."

York gave a crooked grin. "Yeah, well. How often does that ever happen." He bumped back with his waist and then flexed his arm gently over Wash's collarbone. "Anyway, just consider this payback for Wortistan. I'd probably be down a leg if it hadn't been for you."

Wash huffed quietly and York could practically see his scowl. "Oh c-c-come on. Anyone would have d-d-done the same. It was no b-big deal."

"Sure, anyone could have. But anyone wasn't there, you were. So take my damn thank-you and let me return the favor," York replied with a laugh while his fingers drew a small circle along Wash's chest. "You were there then, and now I'm here now."

"G-Good, we'll j-ju-just keep eternally sh-shoving ourselves into f-f-fire for each other," Wash mumbled as he awkwardly crossed his arms over York's far-larger one.

York simply smiled and squeezed his companion back against his body again, letting silence drift over them as the wind continued to scream across their tent. Wash shifted every so often, and York assumed his companion was just trying to stay comfortable despite the odd situation. It didn't bother him much, anyway -- he'd been around Wash far too long to not take his near-neurotic tics into stride. It was a part of Wash's charm at this point...one of the many reasons York was glad to call his old battle-buddy 'friend'.

But as Wash half-shivered and half-squirmed against him again, York blinked at the rather distinct sensation on his waist. Several light jabs into his abdomen, like a bunch of small, blunt needles...or like someone's... "Yo, are those your spines?" Judging by the way Wash immediately tensed up in his arms, the answer was already clear. "You in the ruff??"

Wash mumbled darkly for a few seconds before he sighed. "D-d-don't...m-make a b-big deal o-o-out of it. It's j-just th-that time..."

York grinned, even if it was unseen. "Heh. That's so adorable." He paused. Wash could have reacted far more harshly. But York might also just be imagining things. Now really wasn't the time to test his boundaries. He was just here to help ensure his friend didn't freeze to death.

...Then again.

He cleared his throat softly and tapped a blunt claw gently against Wash's shoulder. "Y'know, I can help ya out. Just sayin'."

Wash sighed louder. "D-didn't you just s-s-say to n-not make it w-weird?" He trembled again but York felt his slender frame gently push back against him again, eliciting a low chuckle.

"It ain't weird, not like we haven't done it before," York remarked casually, his eyes dancing with entertainment as he looked down at the top of Wash's head to savor his uncomfortable huff.

"Sh-sh-shut up, that...w-was one t-time..." he protested, swinging his skull backward to headbutt York's chest.

York's teeth practically gleamed in the darkness. "Technically two times," he corrected, already anticipating Wash's groan.

"A-and w-w-we were b-both drunk..."

"Hey, you didn't exactly seem to hate it."

"L-look, everyone ex-ex-experiments wh-when they're young and l-lonely!"

"You came first." York paused to delight in Wash's embarrassed twinge, leaning down to add teasingly against his friend's cheek: "Both times."

The shiver York felt next couldn't have been just from the cold. "G-g-goddammit," Wash mumbled, gripping into York's wrist with one hand but not quite attempting to pry his arm away. "D-drunk, r-r-remember?"

York smirked. "Heh. It's harder to get off when you're toasted, so. You must have really liked it. Not really your fault -- I've got magic fingers." Wash's eye-roll was somehow tangible, but York only laughed and continued his gentle cajoling. "C'mon, it'll help you relax. Might stop the shivering, too." He slid the arm around Wash's torso down a few inches, drinking in the way his companion's body shifted back against him.

Wash mumbled a few choice words under his breath before inhaling sharply as his friend's claws drifted oh-so-delicately along his waist. "York..." It wasn't quite a protest and York smiled to himself, wondering how far he could push it. "Ugh. W-why do I feel like th-this is m-m-more for y-you than m-m-me..." His tail flicked a bit between them before York felt the tuft brushing along one of his thighs. The shivering made it harder to read Wash, but York could feel his mental debate. He was momentarily guilty, wondering if he was taking advantage of his friend's addled state. Ah well, if he didn't want it, then that was okay, too. York was perfectly capable of just providing nice, platonic warmth.

Something in Wash brought a twitch. "...O-okay, f-f-fine, I g-guess, since otherwise y-you aren't gonna sh-shut up..." he conceded through his trembling.

York was also perfectly capable of providing very non-platonic wood.

He smiled warmly, automatically pulling Wash back against him again as he leaned down to speak softly again: "Whatever ya gotta tell yourself, buddy..."

His hand glided slowly over Wash's smooth stomach, his thumb tracing along the soft fur that was finally beginning to dry in the heat of the sleeping bag. The arm around Wash's shoulders kept his torso anchored tenderly back against his own...which was rather beneficial when his other hand drifted down further to grasp lightly into Wash's bulging sheath. Wash gasped quietly and arched his back at the contact, his hands both flying up to grip into the thick forearm around his collarbone. York's grin spread a bit more -- Wash was in need of some assistance, after all, it seemed.

York rubbed his muzzle tenderly against Wash's cheek as he murmured soft reassurances while his fingers squeezed into the other chupa's crotch again to encourage his erection to push free of its protective pouch. One of York's legs shifted up and entwined loosely with Wash's while he slid his hand up to wrap around his partner's exposed flesh.

Wash's entire body stiffened up as he grit his teeth and slammed his head back against York with a hiss. "G-guhh, h-hand...c-c-cold!!"

"Heh...sorry, dude, just relax, just relax," he replied soothingly as his fingers curled carefully around his companion's arousal. He could already feel the other male's fluids dribbling over his knuckles and he grinned again, tilting his head slightly to push his maw playfully into Wash's neck. "Damn, you do need this..."

As he began a gentle but steady stroking, Wash bit his lip and dug his claws into York's forearm with a quiet curse. His wiry frame flexed and twitched, but was still held securely by York's powerful embrace. The gentle imprisonment prevented him from doing much more than squirming and whimpering quietly, but if his body's reactions were any indicator...it was okay by him. York licked his muzzle eagerly and shamelessly pushed his hips forward to press his own quickly-growing malehood against Wash's thighs. No concern in showing how much they were both enjoying things, after all, right?

Wash's shivering was steadily replaced with his twitching and far-more-blissful shuddering as York's thick fingers massaged up and down. He seemed lost in the ecstasy already, and York grinned happily as he ground his muzzle into his partner's neck while starting to move his hand a bit faster. "Aw yeah, c'mon, Wash, just let go, relax and let it go," he instructed softly.

Wash moaned loudly before he loosened one hand from around York's forearm to drop down and grip instead into York's fingers where they wrapped around him. "Wait, wait...this doesn't seem fair," he panted, his claws trembling against York's knuckles.

York chuckled softly again. "It's all good, bud. Lemme do this for you."

"N-no, ugh..." Wash huffed quietly, reaching down further past his crotch to feel for York between his thighs. "Lemme...just..." He tried to curl forward, but the tightness of the sleeping bag and York's embrace around his chest made it difficult.

Bemused, York loosened his grip around his companion so Wash could fumble around for him in turn. And admittedly, it was quite nice when Wash's fingers found their target and squeezed around it...but it was also pretty obvious Wash still didn't quite have full feeling back in his limbs. The awkward, stiff stroking made York wince a bit and grit his teeth, made only worse when he carefully tried to continue pleasuring Wash, who reacted with a guttural moan and the unintentional digging of his blunt claws into York's sensitive flesh.

York grunted and spasmed briefly at the sharp sensation, half-smiling as he released Wash and instead gingerly steered his partner's arm back up and away from his crotch. "This ain't gonna work," he murmured with a quiet snicker. "You can still barely move your arms. Sweet of ya to try, though -- don't worry, I don't mind." He moved his hand back to Wash's waist, pausing only when Wash mumbled awkwardly.

"It. Still doesn't seem fair." Wash's voice was obstinate, sounding far more serious than York had first thought. "You, uh. You have one. Too."

York grinned despite himself. Wash's trepidation was pretty great. "Yeah, dude. I have a boner, too. I can take care of it later, though. No offense, but your hands are a little unsteady right now. I don't want York Jr. to get any cool new scars."

Wash huffed stubbornly, seeming to burrow in with his protest now that the subject had come up. "W-well...there must be something...that I don't need my hands, I mean..."

York cocked his head, a different feeling of surprise trickling into him. "Uh. Yeah, there is, but. Have you ever..."

"No!" The answer was almost immediate, only to be followed by a meek: "But...you..."

"Yeah?" York leaned down and slowly nuzzled Wash's neck, thrilled by the proposition even as he wondered how genuine it was. He slipped a hand back toward Wash's still-very-much-erect arousal to tease it lightly with one finger. "Go on -- talk to me. Tell me what you're thinking..."

Wash cursed softly and flinched in pleasure at the gentle ministrations, his breath rushing out hotly against the sleeping bag. "God...dammit," he panted before squaring his shoulders and reaching down to squeeze his hand tightly into York's wrist. "You could...be inside me," he mumbled awkwardly.

York's hand gently wrapped around Wash again as his muzzle parted into another broad grin. "Heh. Yeah, I could be." He tightened his arm around Wash's collarbone as the other hand moved thoughtfully away from his groin to instead settle onto one of Wash's hips. His arousal twitched between Wash's thighs, as if contemplating the same scenario.

Wash shifted under York's gentle grip as his tail quivered between them. One of his legs rubbed along York's thigh as he awkwardly peered back the best he could in the sleeping bag, his muzzle brushing against York's. "Don't, uh. I don't have any..."

"You know me. I'll make do." York laughed quietly as he reached up for a moment to stroke over Wash once again, using his companion's excess fluids to slick his fingers up before leisurely running them over himself. He then moved his hand to his muzzle, dragging his tongue over them slowly.

"I...I mean, the sleeping bag's kinda small, I don't think you'll be able to--"

"I'll make do," York repeated around his fingers with a smile, eventually just shoving his digits into his muzzle to slurp at them for a few seconds.

He felt Wash squirming again, unable to stop his dumb grin while drool ran out of his muzzle. "What...what are you doing?" Wash whispered in confusion.

"Juth keep relathing," York ordered with a playful buck of his hips. Wash huffed but nodded back against him. Once his fingers were sufficiently dripping, he repositioned his arm and slid his hand between his companion's buttocks. As soon as he pressed gingerly into Wash, the smaller male yipped and instinctively lurched away from his touch.

"A-hh, ffff--that's cold, too, g-goddammit," he whimpered, his whole body trembling violently from the foreign sensation. "G-god, g-gently, please," he stammered nervously.

York was silent this time as he smiled again and replied only by keeping his embrace snug around his companion's chest while his fingers worked almost delicately into Wash to try and relax his involuntary clenching. His breath washed over Wash's features as their muzzles pressed side-by-side and their heated entwining grew more passionate. York's fingers ran slick with a mix of his saliva and Wash's own fluids and he was soon able to work his digits gently back and forth.

Wash all but mewled as York curled around his back and thrust his fingers into the knuckle, repeating it a few times before pulling his hand back. Wash gasped as his claws dug into York's forearm again, squirming haplessly as he whispered what might have been a plea for more. It took every ounce of York's control to focus on grasping his length and guiding toward his companion's rump. It trembled in his hands, apparently as excited as Wash, and York did his best to steady himself long enough to line himself up. "'Kay...now you really gotta relax, Wash," York murmured against his friend's muzzle, eyes dancing with delight.

Wash flushed, pushing his head against York's. "I'm t-tryinnnngguhhhohfuck!"

York thrust forward with a low groan as he buried himself deep into his companion, Wash's voice trailing off into a long moan. York stayed still for a moment, panting sharply while he clutched his Wash tighter, his other arm wrapping securely around Wash's waist. "There we go," he murmured, briefly licking Wash's muzzle.

Wash could barely formulate a response beyond shuddering and bucking his hips again as his legs sought to press into York's. His own erection prodded almost uncomfortably against the walls of the sleeping bag, though he didn't seem to care as York felt only his grasp tighten into his arm. York waited a beat and then pulled back carefully before pushing into Wash again with a slow but firm swing of his waist.

York's free arm slid down again, his fingers once more taking Wash between them while he began a steady, smooth rhythm with his hips. He held Wash close while moving with just enough strength that his companion gave a soft yelp with each pass, his hand pumping in time. The blizzard seemed to fade outside the tent, the rest of the world drowned out as they moved in unison, existed in that moment only for each other.

As York's pace quickened, each thrust bumping his knot against Wash, Wash whimpered again and grit his teeth. His claws dragged furrows into York's forearm, and he managed to part his jaws just enough to speak. "Nngh...s-slow down, I'm...not used to this..."

York gave a quiet rumble of laughter, obliging but only by a fraction as he otherwise continued to work himself back and forth. "Heh. You realize I ain't actually even that big...right?" He smiled into Wash's eyes as their muzzles rested side-by-side again.

Wash scowled, his flush nearly visible under his grey fur. "...What?? Y-you're not...I...who even admits something like that?!?"

York laughed again, his rhythm growing briefly irregular as he winked. "Look, I'm just sayin'. I'm comfortable admitting that, at least to you." He paused, halfway buried into Wash as the smaller chupa gave a strangled moan of pleasure. "But I'm still flattered," he added with a grin before pushing his muzzle deep into Wash's neck as he proceeded to thrust with more gusto.

Wash's protests faded away as York worked himself harder and faster, the lithe chupa practically melting back into his partner with a continuous string of delighted whimpers and gasps. Words no longer came to them, not that they would have mattered. They grunted and panted hotly while York clutched Wash close, stroking his arousal powerfully with an almost desperate need to bring as much pleasure as possible to his friend.

Wash eventually threw his head back with a blissful shout, his muzzle pressing against York's neck. York felt his body shudder violently and he shifted the arm around Wash's shoulders to instead gently grip Wash's throat, keeping his head held back against him. With a firm thrust, York forced his knot into Wash and was immediately rewarded by Wash arching his back and climaxing hard into his fingers. He bit his lip in ecstasy, his jaw pinning Wash's torso back against him as his thrusts became tiny punches into his companion.

Each sharp jab elicited a loud cry from Wash, matched with several messy bursts that splattered against the inside of the sleeping bag. York's eyes were shut tight in his fervor and he savored every delighted spasm from his partner, locking a leg around Wash's and twining their tails together before hissing through his clenched teeth as the wave of his own orgasm crashed over him. His thrusts became erratic and rushed as he released into Wash, drawing out piercing yelps every time his hips ground into his companion's rump.

York moved his hand away to instead hug Wash tightly around the waist again, making his last few thrusts particularly firm while adoring the way Wash's ecstatic moans vibrated out beneath the fingers pressed delicately against his neck. Everything about it felt right and York almost forgot this whole thing had started as a genuine attempt to keep his friend alive, simply letting himself be in the passionate moment.

His movements came to a jagged halt after several seconds and he slid his hand away from Wash's neck to embrace him tightly with both arms. Wash gave an almost-wistful grumble but immediately pushed back against York all the same, not making any move to escape his secure grip. York himself had no intentions of pulling out as he carefully shifted to drop his head on top of Wash's while squeezing his exhausted companion against his heaving chest and letting the comfortable silence envelop them both.

The howling wind eventually made itself known again, the two companions sluggishly regaining their contact with the rest of the world. York could see his breath drifting across the top of Wash's head, though now that he could focus once more, he realized the entire tent was dripping with condensation. He smiled slightly, glancing down and taking a moment to enjoy the sight of Wash looking genuinely mellow, for once. He nudged the top of his friend's head with his maw. "Heh. You ain't shivering anymore."

Wash opened one eye. He was still panting quietly, head dropped against his own chest, but York could just make out his small smile in the darkness. "Shut up." He pushed back into York, who returned the gesture by nuzzling the top of his skull and shifting just enough to make the half-flaccid length twitch inside him. Wash squirmed and then placed a hand atop one of York's. "We, uh. We made a mess. We should clean up..."

He shifted as if to free himself, but York stubbornly tightened his arms around him. "Nope." Wash huffed up at him and he simply winked back. "Technically you made the mess. Mine's...contained."

"I hate you so much sometimes..."

"Ah, shaddup and enjoy the damn moment," York murmured, dropping his head onto Wash's once more and massaging his companion's side slowly.

Wash grumbled. "But...we're gonna mess up your sleeping bag. It'll get all gross, and..." He made an attempt to move again, only for York to squeeze him tighter still.

"Aw, it's fiiiine." York paused and then cleared his throat. "Besides. It, uh. Ain't my sleeping bag, anyway."

"W-what?" Wash twisted his head around to try and stare at his partner. "What do you mean? It isn't mine, mine was in the jeep when it got hit."

York rolled his eyes innocently while tracing a claw down Wash's chest. "So, uhhhh. Yeah, I couldn't find mine when we were packing our gear for this trip." Wash's expression slowly flattened as he raised one eyebrow. York replied with a stupid grin. "It's CT's."

Wash's eyes widened and he flailed uselessly against York's bulging arms. "Holy shit, seriously?!? She's gonna kill you!" He paused, his face painted with panic as he twisted around to try and stare at York. "She's gonna kill us!!"

Snickering amusedly, York shrugged amicably and squeezed Wash's chest in reassurance. "It's fine, it's fine, I'll get her a new one." Wash didn't exactly seem soothed by the promise, but there was little he could do against York's grip. "Andee owes me, anyway!"

Wash whimpered a bit but eventually resigned to dropping his head against the lumpy bottom of the bedroll. "Goddammit, York. I thought you wanted me to relax..."

"She'll beat my ass before she beats yours, at least," York remarked while he rubbed a leg idly along one of Wash's. "Anyway, ain't no saving this sleeping bag now, no point getting upset about it." Wash sighed but didn't argue as he nodded a few times. York felt his body loosen up again after a few seconds, and he took the advantage to curl around him again. He was determined to draw this out as long as he could -- it wasn't exactly a planned moment of respite, but if he had the opportunity to give Wash a break...he wasn't going to let it pass. "We could do this more often, ya know."

"What?" Wash blinked and then shifted sheepishly against his companion. "No, no, that's. You've got. All your other, uh. People. And I'm too busy." He grumbled as one of his hands gripped into York's wrist. "Barely have free time as it is. Plus I'm, uh. Busy."

"Yeah, you already said that," York chuckled. He let his free hand roam slowly through Wash's soft stomach fur. When he glanced down, he could see his companion's eyes were open despite his relaxed disposition. One of Wash's fingers was brushing along his wrist...a sure sign he had something on his mind. "You're thinking of her, aren't you?"

Wash looked up at him awkwardly before tilting his head back down with a scowl, staring at York's thick arm while he continued to run a claw along his wrist. "I. Don't know what you mean."

York half-smiled. "Heh. You always look down when you lie." He nudged his thumb into Wash's side. "One of the many reasons you always lose at the card table."

"Oh, what do you care, anyway?" he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest and jutting his chin out stubbornly. "What, you jealous Tex hasn't slept with you yet?"

York leaned back slightly, though he wasn't entirely shocked by Wash's response. "Whoa, hey, rude!" he protested even as he lifted one finger. "Maybe a little. Or at least confused, but that's a different story." Wash grumbled away again and York kept his embrace gentle but secure as he carefully nudged the conversation forward. "Look. As your friend, I'm just tryin' to say. You should open your eyes to what's around you. She's not the only one willing to spend free time with you." Wash opened his muzzle, but York gently drove over him. "I know you think you're boring and uninteresting and too serious."

Wash blinked a few times and then scowled moodily. "I...I've never said that!"

"Well, you don't really have to say it, it's kinda obvious," York retorted before he grinned again. "Okay, maybe you actually are too serious sometimes, but c'mon, man. How long have we been friends? I know how you see yourself. You're too hard on yourself, and you've got a really shitty opinion of yourself, on top of that. You have options, you just don't wanna see 'em, 'cause you think they don't exist."

Wash huffed again, though he slowly unfolded his arms and eventually rested a hand on one of York's wrists. "It's not just that. What we do is...suicidal most of the time. The last thing I need is to be tied down, worrying about someone else. And most people don't really get that, even if they're in the rebellion. It's easier with someone who gets it."

York raised an eyebrow. "Alright, I won't argue with that." He squeezed Wash silently. "But Tex isn't the only one who does get it. And...again. As a friend. She...she's. Well."

York felt Wash stiffen in his arms again and he immediately glanced away guiltily as Wash shot back curtly: "She's what? Gonna break my heart? Come on, York, this isn't some grade-school drama. We're adults, and we're in the middle of a losing war, neither of us think this is anything more than a fling. Our cycles just happened to line up a couple times, that's it. She knows it, I know it, and we're both fine with it." Wash shrugged, adding in a quiet voice, "It's no different than...this."

The pang York felt was more than he expected. But he quickly plastered on a smile when Wash glanced up at him inquisitively. "Yeah. Alright. I know you can handle yourself, bud." He wanted to say more, but as the tension slowly left Wash's body again, York was loath to break the peace. Holding his friend close might be enough...and as he felt Wash rest his hands atop his own, he knew it would have to be.

Time passed, though the blizzard did not. With there just being the single sleeping bag, it didn't make much sense to try and not huddle together for warmth. Once York's arousal had faded enough to slip free, they'd continued lying as they were until Wash finally grumbled and pried York's muscular arms apart enough for him to awkwardly turn around so he was facing the larger chupa.

York blinked in surprise but didn't complain, only shrugging amicably and wrapping one arm around Wash's waist as the other propped his head up. "You got somethin' on your mind? Other than 'hey can we do that again?', anyway."

Wash sighed but smiled a bit all the same. He hesitantly placed a hand against York's chest before looking up at him. "Do you...miss her?"

"Almost every day."

There was no hesitation; York answered so automatically he barely even realized the words were leaving his muzzle.

...He meant it, though.

Wash shook his head a bit before letting his head drop against his companion's breast, kneading one hand along his broad frame. "I don't get it. Then why do you...you know." York raised his eyebrows querulously and Wash sighed loudly. "Don't make me say it."

"What, 'sleep around'?" York asked bemusedly.

Wash huffed but nodded, his fingers eventually wandering over the key on York's necklace as he lifted it to study for a few seconds. "Yeah. I guess. Why do you...sleep around with everyone? I mean. Literally everyone. I know you and Sammy didn't just go out to get everyone burgers last time. How could you...ugh." York chuckled above him, but he pressed doggedly onward. "I mean it. Why do you...do that. With them...hell, why did you just do it with me??"

York's smile was playful, but his eyes were soulful as he watched Wash mumble and toy with the key around his neck. He waited a moment, then murmured: "Because you..." Because you're my best friend. Just like she was. "Just because you lose someone, it shouldn't mean you change who you are. She knew what I was like, and she still accepted me. She didn't mind who I was, even if I...you know. Toned it down while she was around." He ran a hand slowly along each of Wash's vertebrae, causing his companion to arch forward into him. "Feels like it'd be pretty crappy to pretend I'm someone else just because she's gone."

Wash frowned quietly. He looked up again, but found only a warm smile that made it hard not to smile back. "I guess I get that." He shrugged and allowed himself to be pulled into a snugger embrace while he rested his head against York's collarbone. "All these little flings you have don't mean much, after all, I imagine. Just like my thing with Tex."

There was that pang again.

"Yeah." York looked down again with a muted expression before he nuzzled the top of his friend's head and squeezed him tightly. "Just like that."

Wash dozed off against York as they waited out the blizzard...which York had no problem with. It wasn't the first time he'd kept an eye on Wash while he recovered from some injury or overworking himself or some other very preventable ailment. They'd been in this situation more than a few times...hell, they'd been on both sides of the table, in fact. Wash had done his share of keeping watch over York after whatever idiotic stunt he'd pulled to get them out of a sticky situation.

...Not usually with all the intimacy beforehand, but York wouldn't be complaining about that. He studied Wash's features in the darkness as he ran his hand over his back. It was relieving to see Wash looking peaceful for once. York was perfectly aware of the necessary stresses that came with leading what was likely the largest branch of the resistance, and he wouldn't wish it on anyone, let alone his best friend. But he also knew there probably wasn't another soul capable of doing what Wash did, as well as he did. Sidewinder was lucky to have Nelson at its helm, but she was a different kind of leader with different methods and different objectives. And for as long as he'd been doing this, York knew Sirca needed both facets of the resistance to truly hope for a better future.

But it still kinda sucked that Wash had to shoulder the responsibility, and that York felt he could do little to help beyond throwing himself into whatever dangerous mission he could in an attempt to at least keep Wash from doing it, first. That and offering his stupid, carefree grin whenever possible. If that was what they needed, if that was what Wash needed, it wasn't exactly hard for York to pull off. He rarely even had to fake it.

Would be nice to never have to fake it, though.

His thoughts drifted to what they'd accomplished the last few years...and to what they'd lost. Who they'd lost. York didn't like to dwell in the past -- ironic, considering his necklace -- but when he did, he always tried to pluck out the strands worth reliving. Losing the person he'd felt a greater connection to than anyone else in his life that was admittedly full of connections...that had put him in a bad place. A lower point than he'd ever been before, even during those long, cold nights on the streets when he couldn't scratch up a friendly companion to let him spend a few hours under a real roof.

Wash had been there, though. The other Freelancers had, too; he'd never utter a harsh word about CT, she was also a good friend. She'd made her attempts to console him, and to talk to him when it'd seemed he could use someone to talk to. And Tex hadn't been cruel to him, either...though he hadn't expected the cold shoulder he'd felt from her over the years since then. And he felt like he could never quite pin down her motives and desires...not that that was anything new. Regardless, she was still one of them.

But none had reached out the way Wash had, or understood him the way Wash did. And perhaps they never would -- it took a certain special kind of insane experience to form the bond those two had...and they'd definitely survived enough ridiculous jobs and missions to qualify. York didn't think he'd be the person he still was today if it hadn't been for Wash.

He lifted his eyes to the roof of the tent when the bitter wind began to subside. He could actually hear Wash's quiet snores from where his muzzle was buried in his chest and it brought a bittersweet smile. The serenity never lasted long enough. Sucked, since another hour or two of snoozing would have done wonders for the little guy.

York still tried, at least, shifting a hand to the back of Wash's head to pull his face into his fur a bit more. There was a chance he could drown out the dissolution of the winter storm and give his friend a bit more rest. But as the walls of the tent grew still and the ice pelting the outside subsided to little more than the occasional tinkling down of snow from the branches above, Wash started to stir.

York idly contemplated just putting the smaller chupa into a very gentle headlock to 'help' him drift back off...but his plans were thwarted when Wash's eyes opened and flicked almost immediately up to him. "Nuts," he announced softly with a bemused smile.

Wash blinked owlishly and then pursed his muzzle. "Is there a bad joke coming?"

"Nah. Just bummed there's not more time for sleeping."

Wash sighed and prodded his friend's chest a few times. "Did you not at least try to get some rest, yourself? You didn't have to stay up."

York just smiled again, shrugging amiably. "Wanted to make sure you didn't get back to shivering or anything."

"Yeah, well..." Wash paused. "I appreciate it." York's smile grew warmer. "But I feel much better now." He moved to turn around so he could fumble for the zipper of the sleeping bag "In fact, why don't you just have a nap and I'll build a fire or something. Sounds like the storm's almost done."

But York was quicker as he wrapped an arm around Wash and pulled him close again, then proceeded to awkwardly shuffle over top him inside the snug bedroll. "Not a chance, buddy -- oof, 'scuze me -- I'll do that, you need the rest." Wash glared up at him as he squirmed across him, unable to do much of anything against the bulky frame of his companion. York paused astride Wash, his elbows propping him up on either side of Wash's lanky frame. He grinned slightly, their muzzles bumping end-to-end. "Y'know, we should try letting you take charge next time. This'd be kinda fun."

Wash huffed and attempted -- and failed -- to push York off. He eventually resigned to simply cross his arms under York's barrel-like chest. "Very funny." But when York only continued to grin down at him, he cleared his throat and rubbed lamely at his muzzle while glancing to one side. "Are you gonna get a fire started or what?" he mumbled.

York chuckled and finally shifted to the other side as he located the zipper and swiftly pulled it down. Cold air immediately slithered into the sleeping bag and they both shivered at the sudden draft. "Okay, now I'm gonna start cursing Sammy," York commented, taking a few quick breaths before rolling out of the sleeping bag and into the middle of the tent as the cool, humid air immediately clung to his stocky frame. He glanced back to see Wash moving to escape the warm bedroll as well, and he smirked before quickly reaching for the zipper and yanking it back up. "Hey, you stay put 'til I get a fire together. Last thing we need is you getting your ass all frozen again."

"Hypothermia doesn't work like that," Wash grumbled, though he stopped trying to slide free when York peered down at him.

"You don't know that, you're not a doctor," York retorted playfully. "Or at least, not a real one, Doctor Bucks." He cackled softly as Wash rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I'm serious. Don't make me tie you down. Just gimme a sec to see what supplies we got..." He hummed to himself, kneeling over the pack they hadn't lost with the jeep and pawing through his contents. He heard the sleeping bag crinkle with movement and he slapped his tail down blindly to bash it against the top of the bedroll. "Ah-ah. Don't make me kick your ass, dude."

Wash grumbled behind him. "Maybe I'll kick your ass."

York smirked while plucking out a small box of waterproof matches and a water bottle. "Maybe after you stop staring at it." He made a point to swing his hips from side to side while searching the side pockets of the pack.

"Goddammit. I'm not staring at it." A brief pause before Wash groaned. "Okay, now I am, don't...do that."

"It's fine, man, I gotta great butt," York boasted, turning around with a grin and then holding out the canteen. "Here."

Wash looked up him flatly. "I'll have to bring my arm out to get it," he simpered.

York grinned again. "Smart-ass. Doctor Rhumba gives his approval, but otherwise demands you keep your ass in there 'til the fire's ready."

"Swear to god those were the stupidest cover names you've ever come up with," Wash mumbled while sticking an arm out through the top of the sleeping bag so York could hand him the bottle. "I still can't believe Andee's stupid cards worked, either."

"Heh, the cover IDs played out just fine!" York replied cheerfully. "And man, that little bastard is making a killing off those cards -- not surprised they actually work. Those two almost got their asses blown up gettin' 'em, anyway."

"Those two almost get their asses blown up anytime they're involved with something," Wash noted dryly.

York snickered softly and started to turn to leave the tent, but paused when he felt Wash grip into his wrist. He tilted his head curiously as Wash met his gaze. "Thank you, York." He opened his muzzle to reply, but Wash spoke again: "No, I mean it. I'm lucky to have you as my friend. To keep me from dying and, uh. To. Help me out with other things."

York's chest swelled happily and he beamed back at Wash, genuinely delighted by the look of gratitude and vitality on his companion's features. It'd been too long since Wash looked so honestly alive. "Hey, that's what friends are for, right??"

Red vs Blue © Rooster Teeth. Halo © 343 Industries. Concept by Myshu, assisted by The Department of Chupapology.