Chapter Text
When York joined Project Freelancer he knew it was going to be intense. He just didn’t think it would be this intense. Forget about leave, that’ll never happen with how tightly wound and secretive the Director is. Even the miniscule amount of downtime gets scheduled into ‘Team Building Exercises.’ The first time York discovers this, he’s royally pissed. He’d rather spend this rare gift of free time exploring the ship or watching old Earth films.
York’s opinion quickly changes after the first night. Apparently, Carolina’s idea of bonding includes copious amounts of alcohol and drinking games. This doesn’t change after the first time, despite York’s belief that they’ll eventually get caught, although he has a strange feeling that the Counsellor already knows. Sometimes they play poker, and if Connie gets her way, of the strip variety. Beer pong happens on occasion, as well as drunk Jenga. However, often it consists of games like King’s Cup or Fuck the Dealer. They tried playing Never Have I Ever once, but after York’s second black eye - courtesy of South - it was unanimously banned.
The first time Wash is promoted to Alpha group and consequently invited to bonding night, York gets extremely excited. Everyone knows that Wash is the youngest freelancer of the group, and York assumes this means that there will finally be someone he can out drink. This week’s game, Carolina has decided, is Jenga. While Maine and Connie set up the game, North mixes drinks with South, and York and Carolina explain the rules to Wash. Wyoming fiddles with the stereo until Florida notices and immediately calls veto on his music choice, opting for something more upbeat and popular.
A few rounds into the game, both Wyoming and Florida have left, claiming fatigue. Not that York can blame them, he’s always tired on mission days as well. York is starting to feel the effects of his drink, despite being completely rested. Draping an arm across Wash’s shoulders, York grins at him affectionately. “How’s it going Wash?”
“If you’re trying to make me fuck up, it won’t work man. I’ve been told I have the hands of a surgeon. Steady as fuck.” Wash casually shrugs York’s arm off his shoulder, smoothly pulling out a block. The block reads ‘finish your drink’ so Wash follows the instructions, downing his fourth drink in one extremely coordinated move. While still drinking, he sets the block on the top of the stack. York watches his adam’s apple bob, mouth suddenly dry. “Well, looks like I’m in need of another drink.”
North takes his cup from him, smacking York on the back of the head as he passes. “South and I are in charge of drinks tonight. So nobody cheats and skimps on the alcohol.”
Wash nods. “Makes sense.”
York leans towards the tower to take his turn, examining the way it is tilting. He reaches for a block that looks promising, poking it gently. The tower wobbles. He prods it harder, watching as the piece starts to slide out the back. When it’s almost out, he reaches around with the intent to pull it out. In the process, he trips over Wash, collapsing the tower and ending sprawled across the rookie’s lap with his face planted firmly into the carpet.
South snorts. “Smooth move. I think you should have to drink Wash’s cup too, since he helped you knock it over.”
Carolina grins at South. “I think that should be a new rule. If you knock the tower over, you have to drink your own drink and the drink of the person you last touched.”
York pushes himself up with one arm to glare at the two ladies across from him. Wiggling so he’s upright in Wash’s lap, he whines at them. “Why do you always pick on me? Every game night I always end up wasted because everyone feeds me drinks.”
Wash coughs, face extremely red. “Would you mind having this conversation after you’ve removed yourself from my lap?”
“Nahhh, you’re comfy.” York wiggles a bit more, settling firmly into Wash’s chest. He gets pretty cuddly when he’s drunk and he has a pretty solid knowledge of how hard it is to remove someone from your lap when you can’t get your arm behind them. He redirects his focus back to South. “Answer the question!”
North sighs, tugging York firmly out of Wash’s lap. “Everyone focuses on getting you drunk at these things because you’re ridiculous. You talk a big game, York, but in the end you can’t hold your alcohol at all. Now drink and leave the rookie alone.”
York downs his own drink before reaching for Wash’s. “Someone reset the game. I’m not done yet!”
“Actually, I think I’m done.” Wash says quietly, picking himself up off the floor. Despite having the same amount of alcohol as York, Wash seems completely steady on his feet.
“Awww… Come on rookie. Look at you, you aren’t even swaying.” York looks at him pleadingly. “I bet we ca-
“Come on Wash, please stay. Just ignore York. He’s an idiot.” Connie interrupts with a reassuring look. “North’ll keep him in check if he needs to. No more touching, we promise.”
Wash sighs, sending a shiver up York’s spine. “Fine. One more round, but after that I’m done.”
“I guess we’ll have to make this one count then.” North grabs the cups to refill them. “Doubles this round.”
Maine grunts, shooting a dark look at North. “Not carrying him this time.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll get him to his bunk tonight if he passes out.” North assures him, handing the cups back.
“Does that happen often?” Wash aks South, eyebrow raised.
“More often than he’ll admit. Maine’s only had to carry him once, though.” South is grinning as she informs him of this.
“Shut it bitch,” York growls, semi affectionately. “You need to be carried back every time we play poker or beerpong.”
“Oh you’re one to talk!” South snarls back, embarrassment tinging her cheeks red. “The only reason you win at beerpong is because my brother, for some unfathomable reason, likes you enough to team up with you every game. And you’re worse at poker than I am. Tell me York, what is the definition of a pokerface?”
York stumbles to his feet, waving his hand in dismissal. Out of the corner of his eye he notices Wash take a step back in alarm when South mirrors his actions. “Just admit it South; you’re a lightweight.”
Carolina grins at Wash and Maine chuckles deeply. South makes an aborted movement of anger with her hands, as if she wants to reach for York’s throat but knows she can’t. “Let’s settle who is and isn’t a lightweight, York. Shots. Now.”
Wash lets out a breath, turning to North. “Whew, thought that was going to get physical. Your sister seems like the type to start a drunken brawl.”
“What was that, rookie?” South questions sharply from behind Wash. York can’t help grinning, he knows what’s going to come out of her mouth next. “Did I just hear you say you want in on the shot competition too? OK. Maine, set up another spot.”
Wash gapes at her for a moment, before sighing. “Fine. Rules?”
“30 second rest period. Last person standing wins. You pass out at the table and I get to draw dicks on your face.” Her grin is positively sharklike when she holds out her hand for Wash to shake.
“As long as I get to draw dicks on yours if you pass out we have a deal.” Wash takes the proffered hand, shaking it twice. York nods in agreement from where he’s perched at the table. The shots commence.
Ten minutes and 13 shots later, the competition has slowed down immensely. York is swaying in his chair and South is slumped sideways, leaning on Maine as he pours the next round of shots. Wash seems perfectly steady in his chair, although his hands have started to shake. With a groan, York downs the shot Maine places in front of him, watching as Wash does the same. South reaches for her shot, knocking it over before collapsing face first on the table.
“Finally,” York groans. “I don’t think I can do another, but I didn’t want to go out first.”
“We done?” Wash asks. When York nods, Wash lets out a sound of relief. “Good. Then I’d very much like to go to bed and pass out now.”
York hums in agreement, letting his head slump onto the table. He watches as Wash pushes back the from the table, staggering to his feet. He sways slightly before gaining his balance and striding towards the door.
York watches Wash in amazement.“Huggh? How did he do that? How do you do that? I don’t even think I can walk, let alone straight.”
Wash pauses halfway to the door and shrugs. “Guess I just hold my alcohol better, York.”
Maine chuckles from where he’s collecting South. York’s attention snaps to him and he whines. “Why does she get carried?”
Maine stares at him for a moment, contemplating him, before striding towards the door carrying South. He tosses an answer over his shoulder. “Like her, don’t like you.”
Carolina snorts with laughter, leaning on Connie as they leave. “Go to bed you three. We’ll clean up in the morning.”
North slings an arm around York’s back, supporting him as he staggers up from his chair. The world spins and he falls. North catches him before he can hit the ground though. He slurs out his appreciation. “Thanns maan. Aways coun on you ta have mah back.”
North sighs, pulling York’s arm around him before tightening his hold. “I always have you, moron. Now lets get you to bed.”
Wash clears his throat quietly, as if afraid of ruining something. “Want some help with him, North?”
York takes that moment to stumble sideways, pulling North with him. North shrugs helplessly. “If you wouldn’t mind.”
Wash shrugs under York’s other arm, and together the three of them stumble out of the room. That night Wash learns how difficult it is to put York to bed when he’s drunk. Eventually, North sends Wash out, claiming that Wash is drunk and needs his sleep. As he leaves, York plants a kiss directly on North’s mouth. Wash lets the door slide shut behind him.
It only takes a few of these bonding nights for the other Agents to realize that the best way to get Wash drunk is through King’s Cup or Fuck the Dealer. He’s the resident beerpong champion, a title easily earned by the team’s weapons specialist. They’ve all seen him bounce an RPG off the corner of a building into an oncoming enemy hornet without blowing the building to bits. Bouncing a ping pong ball into a cup is no problem.
After the first game of King’s Cup they decide that Wash can mix his own drinks. He’s drinking two or three cups to everyone else’s one and the twins are both tired of constantly having to get up.
After Wash’s 8th drink, South makes a proposal. “Next game, I vote the rookie makes drinks for everyone. He’s getting up all the time anyway and I’m getting bored of it.”
Wash nods. “That’s fine. Next time I’ll take over for you.”
That night, after the 7th time Wash is forced to drink the King’s Cup, York finally gets his wish. Wash staggers to his feet, well and truly wasted. North watches from the other side of the youngest team member, a look of trepidation on his face. Wash over balances, stumbling left and just barely catching himself with a hand on York’s thigh. North is out of his chair in seconds to steady the other blond. York’s eyes dart briefly across Wash’s flushed face before meeting North’s steady gaze.
“I think it’s time to get you to bed Wash,” North murmurs, voice pitched low. He hooks an arm around Wash’s waist, hoisting him back to his feet. “York, I think I could use some help.”
The other Freelancers offer a combination of farewells as the three agents exit the lounge. Wash lets out a tiny giggle, waving over his shoulder as the other two drag him towards the door. North raises his eyebrows in surprise at York. “Did he just….?”
“He totally giggled. Holy shit. Wash giggles.” York is gaping a little at the man draped between them.
“Yooorrrk!” Wash croons at him, head flopping onto to York’s shoulder. “York, why are you soooo pretty? You shouldn’t be so pretty. It isn’t fair.”
North stiffens on the other side of Wash, lips pressing together tightly. York gets it, they talked about this after York got wasted and crawled over Wash on that first night. He wouldn’t want someone hitting on North either. They decided a few months into the project that they belong to each other. York is about to gently nudge Wash’s head off his shoulder when the younger man turns his focus to North. He watches in confusion as Wash’s eyes comb North’s face before pressing his cheek to North’s shoulder.
“‘M drunk North. An cold. You’re so nice and warm. And you smell so good. Can I sleep with you? Both of you? It’ll be like a Washington sandwich. You can even eat me if you want.” Wash breaks into giggles after that, tugging on York’s waist as he collapses further into North. He presses his face into North’s neck, mumbling. “I bet you taste as good as you smell. And I bet York tastes as good as he looks. Does he, North? Shhh! You can tell me, I won’t tell anyyyyone, I proooomise.”
“Uhh, Wash?” York trades an alarmed look with North as he tries to untangle himself. Wash has a tight hold on his shirt, however, and it’s making things difficult. “Wash, what are you talking about? You’re drunk buddy. I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.”
“Saw you kissin’. But s’ok, I won’t tell.” Wash pulls his head from North neck to look at York as he explains. “Mighta been lil bit jealous before. Buhh three of us’ll cuddle now, yes? Pleasse North? Dun wanna be alone anymore.”
He sounds so completely dejected and York’s heart melts. He sees the same look on North’s face, but he lets the taller blond do the talking. He can’t afford to fuck up this thing he has with North.
North breathes deeply in through his nose, contemplating Wash’s proposition silently. It’s not like the two of them haven’t thought about it, both separately and together. They even talked about it briefly after York drunkenly made his desire for Wash obvious. “Fine, Wash. We can cuddle tonight, but tomorrow we have to talk about this.”
Wash hums happily. “K. Tonight cuddles, tomorrow talk. Gotcha. Bed now?”
York can’t help chuckling at that. Wash is kind of an adorable drunk. “Yes Wash, bed now. North, yours is closest.”
As soon as they get the door to North’s bunk open, Wash starts stripping. North wraps an arm around York’s waist and presses a kiss to his neck as they watch the shorter blond peel off his shirt. The freckles that cover the back of Wash’s neck travel all the way down his back, disappearing into his pants. York feels North shift behind him to mutter in his ear.
"Oh god, he's covered in them. I wonder how far they go." Lust coats every word, making York shiver in arousal. He leans back, pressing himself tighter against North.
"Can we play connect the dots later?" York whispers back. "After that talk tomorrow?"
North hums his agreement, focus back on Wash and his vast amount of freckles. York stifles a laugh when the shorter man gets his arm stuck briefly. This is definitely not a sexy strip tease, no matter how hot Wash is without a shirt. After flailing briefly, the arm comes free and the shirt is pulled over Wash's head.
Shirt dealt with, Wash turns to face them. He reaches out a hand to tug up York’s shirt. “Come on! Can’t cuddle with all that clothing on. That makes it no fun.”
North makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat when Wash lets go of York’s shirt to shed his own pants. “Wash, slow down. We aren’t cuddling naked tonight.”
“Never said naked. Just said not so much clothes. Eager, North?” Wash winks at him before growling in frustration when he notices that they are still fully clothed. The noise shoots right to York’s groin and he can feel North’s hand squeeze his hip as the man behind him reacts. Wash lets out a petulant whine. “Clothes offfff!”
With a sigh, North gives in. He efficiently strips off his outer clothing, watching as York does the same. Wash grins in triumph before grabbing each man by a hand and dragging them to the bed. Pushing them down, he nestles himself in the middle with a sigh of contentment.
York cuddles closer in attempt to make sure he won’t fall off the bed. North meets his gaze. “Do you think you can get the light, York?”
“If you two scoot over and make some room for me when I get back.” York agrees, rolling off the bed to hit the lights. He hears North shuffling Wash into a more accommodating position and by the time he makes it back to the bed, there is a perfect amount of room. He snuggles up to Wash’s back, tossing an arm over his hip to tangle his fingers with North’s.
As he’s drifting off to sleep, York hears Wash happily mutter, “Washington sandwich.”