Quarter 3: The Bootleg Play


David rubbed slowly at his muzzle, his other hand idly gripping into an unopened bottle of beer while his eyes attempted to stay focused on the papers in front of him. But god were they boring. And that was coming from him. It was pretty sad when even he thought something was bland. He stared at the details of the wannabe hoop's leader as it slowly dawned on him -- goddammit, he'd read this page already.

He grimaced and leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, forcing himself to tear his gaze away as he rubbed at his eyes. "Gabriel, you see any movement?" he called over a shoulder.

He was met with a few seconds of silence. Uncharacteristic of his loud-mouthed companion even when he wasn't being asked a question. David frowned and turned around in the chair. Gabriel had a pair of binoculars up to his eyes, peering through the window while sipping from his own beer.

"...Gabriel?"

His partner blinked and then finally glanced over with a curious expression. "Mm? Oh and hey -- it's York, remember?"

David scowled. Right. Just as he'd gotten used to using everyone's last name, now they all receive codenames and are told to only use them. "Geezus. Why do you get something as nice and clean as 'York' and I get stuck with 'Washington'. By the time someone tries to warn me, I'll already be shot five times."

Gabriel -- no, York -- chuckled and went back to the binoculars. "That's why I call ya 'Wash', li'l buddy."

"But...it's Washington, not Wash," Dav...Washington replied moodily. "Anyway, you seem distracted. Are you drunk already?"

"Nah, but I'm workin' on it," York responded as he finished off his bottle and tossed it blindly over a shoulder, only for it to land neatly in the bin across the room. "Heh. Still got it."

Washington grumbled and then looked back at the research information. "Maybe we should switch for a little bit."

"Nah, you got to use the crap outta the scope back in Specials, it's my turn," York chuckled. "If you'd open that dang beer and relax a little, it probably wouldn't be so bad."

"Easy for you to say, this couldn't be more boring if I'd written it myself," Washington muttered while turning his attention back to the paper. Yeah, it was worth the self-insult. That's how bad it was. "So like I asked a minute ago...nothing happening at their little hide-out?"

York gave a generic grunt as he lifted a fresh bottle to his muzzle. He continued looking through the binoculars before suddenly pulling them away and showing a small, lopsided grin. "Heh. I wonder if Carolina likes video games."

Washington blinked slowly before ripping his eyes away from the papers again. "...What?"

"Yeah, like...I think I'm gonna ask her to go to the fair when we get back. I'm trying to think of things we can do that she won't immediately kick my ass in." York grinned and David...Washington could tell he wasn't really paying attention to whatever he was looking at through the scope. "It's kinda crazy how good she is at everything. Like, I thought I was good at everything, but man, she's got skills."

David was having trouble maintaining his new identity with the depth of his sighing. He glanced at the bottle still in his hand before grumbling to himself and popping the lid off. Okay, now maybe it was a good idea to start drinking. Gabriel hadn't stopped talking about her since they'd first started the drive out to Calypso. He'd somehow even managed to bring up a story of how good her reflexes were as he'd barely swerved in time to avoid one of the many blast craters that littered the trip across Stigma.

And it's not like David wanted to talk. He was fine with not talking. But...even hesitantly calling Gabriel a friend, even as they continued to work together despite the official partnerships not yet being written out by the Director and Counselor...David found himself feeling distant once again. Like he was just part of the scenery while Gabriel stood front and center with his stories and his friends. David sighed and downed nearly half his bottle, hoping it could numb the annoyed thoughts as well as maybe take the edge off the other frustrating thing that he was dealing with.

Yeah, his body really was a goddamn traitor.

"--broken in two places, like, because breaking his arm just one time wasn't enough, she had to do it again. And no one even died. Pretty awesome, right, Washington?"

David looked at his empty bottle and then closed his eyes for a moment before setting it aside and going to fetch his own replacement. He snatched up a few of the papers to continue poring over as he made his way over to the case to pull out two more bottles. He brought both back to the desk while trying to recall if he'd read this section for the third or fourth time. For a bunch of gangsters apparently prolific in trafficking and organ 'services', they sure as hell didn't have much that made for invigorating reading. One of their leaders was a goddamn professor, for fuck's sa--

"Uh...Washington?"

Da--Washington shook his head and then glanced back at Gabrie...dammit, York. "What is it?"

"You're just. Totally tuned out, dude." York studied him for a moment and Washington shrugged while turning back to the sheaf of papers as he set both beers down next to him. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, just fine," he replied with a scowl. "This stuff is just gonna make me go blind, that's all."

York chuckled as he let the binoculars hang around his neck. "Well that makes it sound exciting. Usually only cool stuff makes ya go blind. Or I guess at least usually sex-related stuff." He shrugged amicably and tilted his bottle toward his companion. "Hey, there's literally nothin' happening across the street. I don't think these jerks are gonna be back for a few hours. Let's order a damn pizza, take our break. I see you're already trying to catch up to me on beers over there." He grinned and Washington huffed.

...But he also felt the start of a smile. This felt like more familiar ground, at least. G...York, effortlessly cutting through the serious aura and managing to somehow both annoy and relax David. Washington. Geezus these codenames were stupid. "Yeah, well. I guess I need them today."

York tilted his head curiously and removed the binoculars from his neck to set them on the dresser while he wandered over to the table. "This stuff really that bad?" His partner glanced up, a glimmer of hope in his eyes...only to barely mask a frown when York rambled on. "Man, we should just wing it! Carolina's already on level 3 missions, and she just uses the info from the briefing, I don't think she even bothers with the paperwork." He smiled and looked up wistfully. "Must be nice, especially if that's what's making you so grumpy, little buddy!"

David reminded himself he was Washington, then nodded with a grumble. "Yeah. That's all it is." It wasn't all it was, but there was no reason to make things uncomfortable. If his not-official-partner was happy talking about how awesome his soon-to-be-love-life was, then. Whatever. Let him be -- Washington had booze to make up for the lack of an actual friend.

Ironic he had his not-official-friend to thank for introducing him to the stuff.

Washington rubbed at his temple as his vision blurred in and out of focus around the pages. He vaguely sensed York approaching his side but didn't grant him the reward of his attention, choosing stubbornness over camaraderie. Screw whatever the Counselor had put in his goddamn form letter. He could go back to being friendly after he was done being annoyed. Whenever that would be.

"Man, you definitely need a break, buddy," York announced, momentarily breaking his companion's dull stare into nothingness. "I'll order up a pie." Washington grunted without looking up before blinking as the papers slowly slid away from him.

"Hey!"

York smiled slightly as he continued to move the stack of research documents to the other side of the table. "Come on, Wash. You've spent enough time on this stuff."

"We're...not combat buddies anymore, you don't need to worry about me dragging down your scores," Washington mumbled, even if there wasn't much bite to his voice. "So if I wanna keep working, I'm gonna."

"Heh. I appreciate you startin' to grow a spine, but...man, no need to break my heart, little buddy," York huffed. Washington glanced up at him, unsure how serious his companion actually felt. He looked pretty damn serious and Washington shifted a bit in his chair before sighing softly.

"Face it, G--York, there's no way they're gonna keep us grouped together." York opened his muzzle to protest but Washington cut him off quietly. "I know. We had good scores, we made a good team, yeah, yeah. But you know this is just like back at Specials. You're stuck with me, and it's only a matter of time before they pair you up with someone closer to your level."

"Aww, Wash, you're bringin' me down, man," York complained while shaking his companion's shoulders. "Besides, who says I want to work with someone else, huh?"

"Bet you wouldn't say no if they paired you with Carolina," Washington mumbled, which made York grin.

"Yeah, alright, that's not fair, buddy -- wouldja blame me? Who in their right mind wouldn't wanna be paired up with the hottest agent on the block, huh?"

Washington scowled but supposed he couldn't be all that upset. It bothered him, but god...York wasn't wrong. Everyone was either jealous of or crazy about her. Being her partner would mean the best cases, the quickest advancements. The best chance of gracing the top of the leaderboard, as long as you weren't scared of the glower you'd get from the other terrifying female agent who regularly stayed in the lead.

Didn't do much for his wallowing self-esteem, though. And he hated that York seemed to notice, ignoring the quiet frown from his companion as he worked on his third bottle of beer. "Hey, man -- don't worry about that dumb leaderboard. It's not like Specials anymore, you aren't worrying about being recruited because of those scores."

"Then why does everyone make such a big deal about them?" he retorted as he leaned back and held his bottle to his chest. "Why's it a part of the daily briefing?"

York shrugged easily. "I dunno. Maybe it's just meant to keep us on our toes, push us to do better. Hell, I know it works for me! I saw North pull ahead last week, so I pushed extra hard and bam! Next thing ya know, we got our second mission!"

"Yeah, go us," Washington grumbled as he slammed down the third bottle and closed his eyes. York dropped his hand onto his shoulder again and he tried to shrug it off, but his companion was insistent.

"Dude, it's so break time. What do you like on your pie again?"

"...I...mushrooms and peppers, I gue--"

"No you don't, no one likes veggie pizzas," York interrupted as he shook his head vehemently and trotted across the room to the phone. "We're getting a meat lover's."

"Ugh." Washington glared over his shoulder at him before giving a resigned sigh. "Get me another beer. I won't care at that point."

"That's the spirit, little buddy!!"


Washington swayed on the edge of the bed, chewing away at his third or fourth slice as York cackled and poked at his chest a few times. "I tooooldja! You're skinny as hell, Wash!"

"'Ssss not Wash," not-Wash mumbled with a pout, reaching out to prod his partner firmly in return. "'Ssss Washin'ton. Y'gotta...y'gotta. Say th' whole thing. Or. Or you get in trouble."

"Yer gonna get in trouble for...bein' drunk," York replied around his grin, his own body tipping from side-to-side. "I'm gonna tell on you. Wash."

"You're more drunk than me," Wash huffed while shoving the rest of his pizza into his muzzle, chomping loudly and then suddenly flinging an arm out. "An' I'm not skinny! You're jus'...fat."

His wrist nearly smacked into York, who gasped dramatically and then reached out to grasp into his companion's slender arm. "Take it back, pardner!" York demanded playfully before giving a drunken grin and yanking Wash closer. The smaller male squawked in protest even as he felt a warm tingle through the inebriation. "You feel this, 'n tell me it's fat," he added while slapping Wash's hand down against his broad chest.

Wash tried to remember his name, but decided 'Wash' was easier for now. He scrunched up his muzzle while a shiver ran through his body and he reluctantly let his fingers grip into York's muscular breast. "I dunnooooo," he replied, jutting his chin out stubbornly. "Kinda feel like boobs."

York's dramatic gasp became even more dramatic and he reached out for Wash's other hand to drag it up to his bare torso as well. "Well that jus' tells me you ain't ever held onto real boobs," he declared. Wash closed his eyes even as he huffed loudly again. York's fur was bristly...but warm. His claws dragged over the firm musculature, for a moment realizing York's heartbeat was what he felt thumping under his palm. He opened his eyes hesitantly, sober for an instant to savor a bolt of strange longing that was quickly replaced by confusion.

...His body, the traitor. Just hormones and loneliness, and a shameful lack of any notable personal bonds in his life besides his childhood friend.

"I've...totally held real boobs," Wash muttered in protest, yanking his hands away and then widening his eyes as he tipped backward. "Oh shiii--!"

A flash of tan, just like in that apartment building. But this time the arm was around his waist, catching him before he could tumble off the bed. "Heeeeh, toldja you were drunk," York announced proudly, the inebriated sway in his shoulders devoid of any self-awareness. His fingers splayed loosely over the small of Wash's back and it made him squirm as that same tickle raced up his spine. York peered down at him, his eyes laced with booze and curious suspicion. "Hey...waitaminute," he drawled as he squeezed his fingers slowly.

Wash felt the haze part momentarily as a shock jolted his system. It took him a few seconds to realize York had gripped almost directly into his spines. "H-hey!"

"Oooooh!" York widened his eyes before grinning stupidly. "Hey, hey, you're in the ruff!"

"N-no I'm not, you d'nno that!" Wash stammered even as his body continued to betray him, continued to suddenly make his pants feel tight, continued to make things weird.

York's grin only grew broader. "Awww yeah you are, li'l drunk buddy. I c'n feel them ruffles," he declared. "No wonder you been all...funky 'n stuff t'night, you been horndoggin' an' there's been nothin' but your good buddy York around! Hell, I woulda ordered you a nice over-under with that pizza if you'da said somethin'! She probably woulda given us a sweet Freelancer discount!"

"I-I-I don't need a p-prostitute!" Wash all but wailed while he tried to shuffle away from York...which only served to make his bulging inseam more visible. And goddamn him, York's dancing green eyes locked instantly onto it with a gasp more dramatic than any of the previous gasps.

"You, my friend, have a boner," York announced as proudly as he might have spotting a target on the stakeout they were blissfully ignoring for a few hours. "It's Twin City all over again!"

"It's not a boner!" Wash blurted, using both hands to cover up what was absolutely a boner.

York kept right on grinning as he leaned forward, his breath thick with beer as it drifted over Wash's features. It wasn't a nice smell...but the proximity made him squirm as he tried to look anywhere but at the giant jerk whose muzzle pressed lightly against his. "Haw, don' be embarrassed," he chuckled while placing a hand against his own chest as it puffed out proudly. "The Gabe...no-no-no, the York has no shame! Even if yer a dude." He gave a dazed giggle and leaned back, reaching up to poke a thick finger against Wash's nose. "No homo."

Wash pouted furiously as he started to shuffle backward, only to remember the end of the bed. He settled for perching awkwardly on the very edge of the mattress as his eyes searched the room for something to stare at that wasn't York. His not-boner was painful now and all he wanted was to not have another living being in the same room since at this point he was pretty sure his long-dead grandmother would have kept this totally-not-an-erection around.

His eyes decided that York's crotch was a nice place to have a break in their panicked flight. And they slowly widened in realization that his own pants, as a matter of fact, were not the only ones that were in the middle of a losing battle against keeping their dick-shaped occupants safely contained. His muzzle gaped and he shoved a finger accusingly into York's thick chest fur. "Hey!! You...you jerk, you got one, too!"

York blinked unevenly before swinging his head down, the movement sloppy enough that he nearly caused them both to tumble down from the bed. He stared down at his lap for a few seconds and then elicited what could only be described as a surprised sound. "Huh. Well shit, I sure do." He jabbed a finger into his tented pants. "'Sup, little dude?" A crooked grin found its way back to his muzzle as his eyes rolled up to peer at Wash, who was now flushed with his embarrassment. "Heh, hey, now it is jus' like Twin City!"

Wash shifted on his precarious ledge while gravity threatened to expedite a one-way trip to the floor. "H-hey, I thought we weren't gonna talk 'bout that, ever again," he mumbled as he fidgeted and found his eyes searching York's for...geezus, fuck if he knew. Reassurance that it had just been a drunken fluke. Maybe reassurance it hadn't been.

Christ, was he this starved for friendship that he was hoping booze-fueled handjobs would mean something more than a regret that had been as insistent as the hangovers they'd suffered after waking up?

He didn't have the time or capacity to contemplate the answer as York responded by fiddling with his belt while he spoke wisely into his own chest. "Yeah, well. We don't gotta talk about it, let's just get off, dude."

Wash's eyes bulged. "L-let's wh-what??"

York grunted as he fought with the buckle, eventually flopping back onto the bed as he groaned and tried to make his giant fingers do what he wanted. "We both got...dammit, friggin'...boners, and I don't...sonuvabitch...waste a good boner!"

Wash stared at his companion stupidly, unable to process all the conflicting thoughts past the inebriation...hell, not even past the sight of the enormous chupa losing the one-sided battle with his clothes. "Wh...you..." He huffed to himself before looking down at his own pants. Yep. That wasn't going anywhere. Well, who said this asshole was the only one who could make things weird? He stuck his chin out again and then let himself drop forward onto his hands to crawl in a zig-zag across the mattress. "Let me help, Mr. Perfect, you're too drunk to get your own pants off," he mumbled.

York peered up at him again as his hands protested by way of struggling even more with the belt, but Wash didn't miss the way a curious but confused expression whisked across York's features. "Oh, so now...s'now you're the expert, huh?"

Wash only grumbled as his obstinance took over, his hands brushing York's away as his nimble fingers -- no less drunk, but at least not dumb sausages -- fumbled for a few seconds and then managed to pull the belt through the buckle before yanking it to release the bar so it could rapidly become slack and leave his waistband loose. "Hmph. There." He paused for a second, swaying a bit but still noticing the way York watched him from his sprawled out position. "What? 'S...'s like you say." The words danced around his muzzle briefly and he debated releasing them. He tasted them contemplatively for a second or two, then carefully opened his maw. "It's what friends do."

York grinned stupidly. "Haw, you're right, li'l buddy, you're right!" He hooked his thumbs into his waistband and shoved his pants down without another word, leaving Wash with the extremely complicated task of dealing with the sudden presence of his erection twitching in the open space between them.

Wash cleared his throat and stared at a spot on the ceiling, pretending he couldn't feel the slight damp spot forming in his pants. Goddamn hormones. "U-uh, 'kay, so...so n-now you c'n take care of your, uh, th-that," he stammered while starting to shuffle backward on his knees toward the edge of the bed. "I'll go 'n...uh..."

He could not stop the tiny gasp of shock when York's massive fingers suddenly curled into his own waistband before he could shift out of reach. "Heeeey, nuh uh, we're friends, we're doin' this together again!" York declared stubbornly. Wash squeaked when one of York's claws graced his very-much-aroused flesh inside his pants, which made the huge bastard grin broadly. "Heh. 'Cept', um. 'Cept you gotta take your own pants off, 'cause." He pursed his muzzle before shrugging easily. "I am too drunk."

Well, here he was again. Teetering on the edge of what his body wanted and what his brain told him was probably a regrettable choice. An interesting third option came to mind, however, and Wash grunted to himself even as he slapped York's hand away so he could begin the labor-intensive process of undoing his own belt. "Hey...d'you...d'you do this stuff with all your other friends?"

York's eyes swam in and out of focus for a moment before they seemed to lock hesitantly with Wash's. "What, y'mean. Oh." He took a moment to study his erection while Wash tried not to do the same. "Uh. I mean. Naw."

Wash pouted delicately again even as he managed to undo his belt, halting himself from pushing down his pants. "W-well...why not? I thought this's what friends do? You never do this with that stupid North?"

"Naw." York huffed and then wrapped a hand around his arousal as if he was attempting to diffuse the conversation. "It's...different with you, li'l buddy, yer...my li'l combat buddy. Those guys...those guys wouldn't get it, they'd be like 'oh that's gay, you're a big homo' and the York is not a big homo, he's just got a real...real good friend for a buddy."

Another not-entirely-unwelcome wave of bewildering happiness rolled through Wash. He still wasn't sure if it was just the beer talking, but he really liked having a friend. Even if everything about York was so different from him, even if they had no business being friends. He really liked it. "Okay," he mumbled before finally relenting and shoving his pants down to free his own erection, flushing when a bit of clear fluid trickled down and dripped onto the sheets. "Um. Thank you for bein' my friend."

York was oddly silent while Wash busied himself with carefully wiggling completely free of his pants, going through an entire ordeal to remove them while remaining in a kneel next to his companion. He remembered what happened to the last shirt he'd worn when they'd done this and he murmured a few reminders to himself while struggling to remove the rest of his clothes.

When he peered back down at York, suddenly more naked than the carefree jock whose pants were still halfway down his legs, he didn't expect to still find those evergreen eyes still gazing up at him. York's hand was lazily moving along his erection, but his attention appeared to be focused on his small companion. "Wh-what?"

York blinked and then scoffed, looking like he was searching for the right words. "N-nothin', you're jus'. So funny, that's all, all...all your clothes off like...we're gonna have sex or somethin', heh."

"W-well, we're...not, we're just gonna help each other out...right?" Wash hesitantly grasped into his own erection while creeping closer on his knees. "'Sides, I...don' want them gettin' dirty again. I 'member last time -- I told you I'm not drunk."

York gave a silly grin, pointing at his chest with his other hand. "You smell drunk."

Wash pouted again. "You...you smell stupid," he retorted before settling on his haunches at his...friend's side. "Um. Should...should I lie down next to you, or...erm..."

He received a thoughtful look from York before the muscular chupa chuckled quietly. "Heh, naw, naw, I bet you still suck at jerkin' off."

"H-hey! You don't know that!" Wash protested while watching with his head tilted as York pushed himself backward along the mattress until he was resting with his back elevated against the pillows. "U-um...what...what're you doing?" he asked warily, his paws curling into one another behind him as he shifted his weight with the strange sense of vulnerability that drifted over him. He felt very...exposed, more than simply kneeling naked before his drunken companion.

"Don' worry, li'l buddy -- I got a good idea," York explained with the requisite amount of inebriated giggling as he gestured to Wash with the hand that wasn't wrapped around his malehood. "C'mere, c'mere. I'll take care of us both. An' then...then all you gotta do is tell me how awesome I am. Got it?"

Wash did not get it. But he crawled closer all the same, his eyes trying not to lock onto the very distracting sight of York's throbbing flesh. "Um...no?"

"Jus'...c'mere," York mumbled, reaching out when his companion was close enough to grab into his wrist so he could yank him forward. Wash squeaked in surprise but let himself be guided to straddle York's thighs as every hair along his spine stood on end. "There," York huffed while grunting in approval as they peered at each other for a few seconds. "See?"

"Um..." Wash blinked, his hands still awkwardly floating at his sides as he tore his eyes away from York's face to instead study their erections, trembling just a couple of inches apart. "I...I...what are you gonna...?"

"I'm gonna...do stuff. To us both. At the same time," York replied, as if the answer should have been incredibly obvious. "Just...hol'up," he added in a grumble as he bent his legs slightly and caused Wash to slide down. Wash's eyes widened in surprise and he felt himself falling forward, his hands reaching out instinctively and grabbing into his companion's thick shoulders. They stared at each other for a few uncomfortable seconds before he realized what the warmth was against the bottom of his arousal. They slowly brought their heads down at the same time to peer at the way their erections were now pressed together and York was the first to speak around his dumb grin. "Heh. See? Easy."

Wash wanted to ask him what he meant by that, but whatever words he thought he might be able to say were lost to the keening moan he instead gave when York's massive hand carefully wrapped around both their malehoods. "Hngh, o-oh...g-god, G-G-Gabriel," Wash stammered, his eyes shutting tightly while his tail arched over his back painfully.

"N-no, c-call me York," York murmured, his fingers squeezing lightly before he gave a slow, experimental stroke. "York 'n Wash -- friends to the end!" he announced in a proud voice before a drunken giggle slid out from his muzzle as he whispered loudly: "The white, sticky end!"

Wash barely heard the stupid joke, lost as he was with the sensations already building in his loins. He hissed through his teeth when York's fist nudged against their knots, his toe-claws curling into the bottoms of York's thighs. "Ga-I, I-I mean, York," he whimpered. His fingers dug into York's shoulders and he could feel his companion shifting beneath him with a quiet grunt as the hand around their mashed-together arousals faltered for a beat.

"G-goddamn, you're...needy," York grumbled, though he didn't quite sound annoyed with the way his breath rushed out. Wash stole a glance down as he continued to clench into his broad shoulders, watching as York's tongue slipped out and traced along the end of his broad muzzle. The erotic pleasure was only a part of it -- yeah, it was pretty amazing to feel the broad fingers around him, the rough pads massaging over his flesh, York's malehood grinding against his, but what made his spines truly stiffen almost painfully was the simple intimacy. Wash knew next to nothing about how his stupid ruff worked. He knew when it happened, he normally felt lonelier than usual, because the ache of wanting to be close to someone never resulted in it being satisfied.

He was close to someone now, though. Someone he...wanted to keep thinking of as his friend. His big, stupid jock friend, but his friend nonetheless, right? And that was truly what sent a shudder along his backbone as he began to breathe harder and lean further over York's muscular frame.

Fluid was dribbling freely from his malehood, splashing across York's flesh and making the movements of his fingers even smoother and easier. Wash's eyes were soon closed again and his hips started to give little thrusts, bucking into York's fist and making his companion grunt in surprise.

"Geezus, dude, heh...you...you really do like this, huh?" York inquired. Wash stole another look down, finding a similar flush on his companion's features as their eyes met for a second. "Y-yeah, the York knows what he's doing...right?"

Wash moaned loudly in response, forcing out a few quick nods as he thrust forward faster and faster. "Nngh, y-y-yeah, you're...ooh...god, it's n-nice," he managed to reply before he bowed his head and gasped. He was drunk, but nothing could take away from the rush of bliss that suddenly burgeoned outward through his whole body. His claws dug deeper into York's rippling shoulders and he dropped his muzzle down to push almost desperately against the top of his partner's. "Oh g-g-god, Y-York!" he cried out of pure instinct...not that the other chupa seemed to mind much considering the way he felt York's other arm reaching up to wrap around his back.

His hips were a blur as he hammered forward into his companion's fingers and against his equally-stiff flesh before a thick burst of his orgasm exploded out across York's broad chest. His cries immediately grew in volume as he bucked and thrust wildly with a complete loss of control as he fired again and again over his friend's heaving torso, losing himself entirely in the fiery ecstasy, their breaths mixing hotly while they panted hard against one another's muzzles.

If this was what friends did for each other, then Wash was pretty sure he'd been missing out for a long time.


York didn't even know what to say as he stared up at Wash writhing above him. His jaws were partially open at the sight, for once left considerably speechless. He felt the way Wash's climax was unleashing itself with several messy signs, but there was more to it. The fingers around their malehoods could feel his quickened pulse, yet the hand wrapped around Wash's waist sensed something beyond that. The little guy was quivering above him; it was like his entire body was alive with pleasure, despite the fact he was just giving them a simultaneous handjob.

It was kinda awesome, and kinda flattering.

He grinned to himself, his own orgasm just seconds away and not really seeing a point in holding it in. Having the smaller male cry out his name was sorta weird, but...he didn't think he minded. Wash was his combat buddy, and his friend. A friend unlike his other friends, a friend with whom he shared a different, strange bond. One that made this whole thing feel okay, whether or not it was just the booze that let it happen with such carefree abandonment. It wasn't gay, it was just two pals expressing themselves, helping each other out.

...Not that it didn't make him feel just a little gay as he bit his lip and felt Wash's fluids flooding over him, making his own arousal that much slicker and stiffer in his grip as he continued stroking them both rapidly. He grunted and then shifted the hand around Wash's back up to instead grip the back of his head. He held his companion's muzzle down against his forehead as he clenched his jaws and then released a low, pleasured groan while his own hips started to shove upward.

It made Wash's entire body bounce a bit and lord, he'd be lying if he didn't admit he sorta loved the sensation of the wiry, squirming form of his buddy being so enthralled and so wholly encompassed by everything he was doing. Luckily he didn't need to consider the right words -- a sharp moan of pleasure did the trick when his peak finally overtook him. "Oh...oh fuuuuck!" he growled blissfully into Wash's collarbone, his hips bucking violently as the initial rush sent a heavy blast of his own fluids up against his friend's chest before the additional ones splattered back down over his already-messy torso. "Yeah, oh...gawd, yeah!" he cried out in delight, his enormous body crawling with a bliss he wasn't sure he'd ever felt before -- it was like Wash's pleasure was amplifying his own, and he wondered why the hell he hadn't found a friend like this in the past.

His hand continued moving over their erections for several more seconds, urging out every last bit until Wash mewled softly for him to stop as the sensitivity became too much. York grinned around his heavy panting, eyes opening to gleam happily at the sight of Wash still bent over him. It was a new sight for him, for sure...but something about it felt okay. It must have been because this was his little buddy. They should share this stuff without it being awkward.

...Too awkward.

As they stared at each other, a bit of sweat mixing in with everything else that soaked into their fur, the daze of their shared bliss was overwhelming. But at the same time, the inebriation was beginning to fade, replaced with the settling motes of pleasure drifting over them. York searched for the right words, and decided to go with the ones that came out first. "So...so that was pretty awesome...right?"

Wash took a moment to respond, his amber irises glowing while his arms trembled, threatening to drop his slender frame atop York's. "Uh...hhnh...y-yeah," he whispered back before wincing and arching his back slightly when York at last removed his drenched hand from around their dwindling erections. "Oh god..." Wash whimpered, his toes digging into the bottom of York's legs again and making the larger chupa twitch.

"Hoo boy, yeah, yeah it was," York mumbled as he took a moment to glance at the mess between them. Mostly on him. "Dude, have you...like. Not jerked off since, uh. Since the last time we did this?"

"Oh, sh-shut up," Wash huffed, carefully pushing himself to one side and then dropping onto his back next to York. York glanced down at him, and luckily it was the side with his relatively clean hand. He smiled a bit, then let his arm drape around his friend's shoulders. He could feel Wash twitch at the contact, but then fall still after a moment. "It...you...you were, uh. Awesome," Wash added lamely, his head rolling back to allow him a brief gaze up to York, who met it with a wink.

"Uh, yeah...of course I was," he boasted, feeling his pride stroked as properly as his retreating erection. "I know what...my little buddy likes!"

Wash screwed up his muzzle, nudging York's side playfully with an elbow. "Oh, c'mon...who doesn't...like having, um. Orgasms."

York grinned up at the ceiling with a shrug. "Sure, sure. It's okay...to admit that...I'm jus' gettin' real good at...helpin' you out," he replied as his breathing slowly returned to normal, a delighted chuckle accompanying his words. He wondered for a moment what Carolina would think of all this. She did like to tease him about his soft spots, even if she probably liked them, too. He was being pretty soft now, wasn't he? Yeah, just a little. It was easy to remedy, at least. "Heh -- kinda like at Recruitment Day, huh? Except, y'know. I'm getting you off instead of getting you hired!"

...Okay, that felt just a little awkward. It was true, though, wasn't it? He'd promised to make David -- now Wash, thanks to them joining Freelancer together -- look good. And he had! They made a great team, no doubt about that. Wash was the perfect little accompaniment to all of this York goodness.

At his side, Wash shifted a bit. "Uh. I mean. You...you said some nice things to me, but...you didn't really get me hired," Wash muttered. "Remember? I got...um. I got that...that letter from the Counselor."

"Yeah, yeah, for our team scores, though, yeah?" York chortled as he squeezed Wash's shoulders gently and looked at the ceiling again. "You know I got your back, little buddy."

Another shift, another moment of discomforting silence. York arched an eyebrow -- he wasn't sure why it was discomforting. It was true, after all. Wash mumbled a few words under his breath, then spoke up slowly: "You...you said you didn't have to carry me, though. You...said I did this myself, that I didn't let you carry me."

York cleared his throat. He had said that, hadn't he? And well...he supposed it was true. But there was no way Wash would have made it without him, right? "I mean...yeah, little buddy. But y'know, it was still as a team."

Wash's sigh felt heavier than he expected it to be. York glanced down at him curiously but Wash only stared at his hands as he held them up for a few seconds. "York...I...I dunno. Maybe...maybe you're right. It was a pity selection, after all. I. I never really belonged here, I know I shouldn't be here."

"Oh, I...I didn't mean that, Wash, you bel--"

"No, I. I really don't," he interrupted with a grimace, squirming at York's side and then sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. York blinked and looked at his companion's bare back while Wash studied the carpet. "That whole day was...it was a nightmare, because I knew I wasn't gonna get picked up by anyone, while you...god, it was so easy for you."

York huffed and sat up as well. "Hey, man -- I worked hard, too! It's not like I wasn't trying."

"No, you...you were, you just..." Wash sighed and slowly rubbed over his bicep while giving a silent shrug. "I was right. We never should have been partners, you were just stuck with me and even if you worked hard to get where you were, you deserve to be here, at least."

"I mean, you do too, little buddy," York quickly replied while rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I uh. I wasn't trying to say you weren't."

"It's...it's fine," Wash mumbled, but everything about the tone of his voice said it was not fine. "Look, just. I don't want to go into it."

York tried a soft laugh. "Aw, c'mon, buddy. We just...you know. Did that together, you can talk to me."

York couldn't see what Wash was staring at but he could feel the intensity. Hell, he could see it, the quiver in Wash's shoulders, the way his entire body looked like it was slowly contracting into itself. "You..." A long, shuddering sigh that made York frown in concern. "Honestly? I...I hate this, York. I hate being here, because I really don't belong here. I'm...I'm not Washington, I'm. David. Tiny, useless, worthless David Nowak. And you..." He glanced over his shoulder and York was more surprised than he expected to see the pained look in his companion's eyes. "You're Gabriel Petri. The star, the champion, the...best of the best, everyone's top pick. And I shouldn't be jealous, but I am. I...I hate how easy you make it look."

York shifted his weight again and licked his lips briefly. This wasn't what he'd wanted to do. "Wash, c'mon. You're, uh. You're doing fine, you're--"

"N-no, no I'm not. I'm at the bottom of the boards. Every fucking week," Wash blurted as he hugged his knees to his chest. "I can't compete with any of you. My one friend is never around, she's always on her own missions, and I have no one to talk to."

York was stung more than he wanted to admit. "I...Wash, I'm your friend, too. You know you can talk to me..."

There was a beat or two of silence before Wash's voice replied, lower and colder than he hoped. "Come on, York. Don't bullshit yourself, don't...don't bullshit me. How...how can we be friends? You're...look at you. You're one of the cool guys, you're gonna be going out with the...fuckin' best agent, the hottest girl, the one everyone talks about. It's like being back on the goddamn playground. And I'm all alone again and, and..." He slumped over his legs, hugging them closer to his slight frame.

York grimaced at his companion's back and rubbed his own shoulder slowly. "Look, Wash...that's just life, man. Don't...c'mon. You're in Freelancer now, you can't let this shit get to you." He shrugged a bit and tried to ignore the way Wash only shrunk further into himself. "You're tougher than you were in Specials. Don't be a jealous nerd, you're better than that."

"Don't be a nerd??" Wash spat out as he suddenly jumped off the bed and spun around, ignorant of his nudity for once. "What, now you're gonna tell me all that fucking hazing you fuckers keep doing is good for me, too, right?"

York blinked and leaned back against the pillows before he fired a scowl at Wash in return. "Hey, man, we're just...we're just--"

"Just what? Toughening me up? Fuck that, I hate that shit," he seethed, throwing his arms wide. "I hate it, and it makes me hate being in Freelancer even more. It's like I'm back at fuckin' Specials, all over," he snarled while yanking his clothes off the ground and storming toward the bathroom. "You, North, your new pal Ohio -- all of you, you make me feel like shit all over again, and you wonder why I think we can't be friends." He stopped at the threshold of the doorway, trembling and staring into the bathroom before looking over his shoulder at York. And god, did York hate seeing the tears in those golden eyes. "I'm more upset with myself than with you. I should have known better." Wash looked down at his paws for a moment, then shook his head and entered the bathroom before slamming the door behind him.

York stared at the door for a few seconds, his muzzle working silently as a bolt of regret ran through him. And it stung, it stung a lot more than it ever should have. Because Wash wasn't wrong...was he? The two were practically opposites. What the hell did they have in common, as a reason to ever be friends? Partners? Just because they worked well together on a mission didn't mean much when it boiled down to moments like these. Moments where he...he spoke without thinking, without bothering to consider his words. His other friends, they wouldn't have cared. Carolina would have just laughed, she took everything so easily into stride.

Not Wash, though. Wash was different. Not delicate, not weak...but different nonetheless. And as York looked down at himself, past the evidence of their shared experience, he wondered why, why had he done what he'd done the night of Recruitment Day. Why had he been so adamant about joining Wash...joining David, sticking with him, going where he went, giving up all those other potential futures. It hadn't just been because of the booze, he knew it wasn't just being drunk and making stupid decisions. He'd wanted to stick with him, he'd wanted to keep working with him. He'd wanted to be his friend.

He was doing a real great job of that, now, wasn't he? York still didn't know why he cared, he just knew he did. And it wasn't fair that this was so hard -- he got along with everyone. But the one guy he actually wanted to befriend kept slipping through his fingers as every trick, every gimmick that worked with everyone else fell flat or backfired with him. He didn't get it, but he hated it.

When the door eventually opened again, no words were exchanged. Wash was fully clothed and he walked past the bed without a glance at York. York could only watch silently as his companion went to the couch, curled up facing away from him and pulled a towel over himself as a makeshift blanket.

Everything he'd said in the last twenty minutes was on a loop in his brain, now, regret trickling down like grains of sand in an hourglass, building unstable mounds of discomfort throughout his gut. He didn't want to have to choose between having a friend and being the guy everyone else liked. And besides, if Wash was so jealous of him, then...that wasn't his fault, was it? If he couldn't handle listening to York talk about the stuff he liked -- the people he liked -- then what was the point? If the anti-social asshole wanted to be mad at the world, that wasn't York's concern. He had other friends, friends who recognized his ability and his presence. No point trying to get along with someone who didn't.

But as he watched the way Wash's little body trembled from across the room, he knew whatever acidic thoughts he tasted on his tongue were wrong. Not worth the time it took to think them, because all those excuses were why he wanted to be close to Wash. David...Agent Washington...his battle buddy, he still treated him like a regular guy. An equal, even if he was jealous, even if he felt small and meek and useless next to him. He didn't put York on a pedestal...he just lived in the shadow of the one York had built for himself.

Maybe what bothered York the most was the fact it wasn't a one-way street. He knew Wash was trying to reach out, he wasn't so blinded by himself to miss that. But for whatever reason, every time they'd get close...York had to be. York. Fall back onto a joke, a prank. Something all his other friends laughed at and encouraged, something that kept the vulnerability at bay. It worked for them; they weren't Wash. They weren't vulnerable, themselves.

He turned onto his side so he could avoid staring at his companion's shivering form. The guilt tasted sour and he wanted it gone. They'd soon be going through all the official paperwork of assigning partners -- that was his opportunity, wasn't it? He'd been wanting to spend more time with Carolina. She didn't have a partner of her own...and not every mission could be a solo mission, right? She was good, but she needed someone to watch her back. He could do that. And he'd been the one to tell Wash that they weren't in Specials anymore. They'd been through plenty, but that was behind them, now.

It was time to move on.