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“What is he wearing?”
Where was that laughter coming from? Where was he? Tired. So tired. His body felt as though it was made of lead. Or covered in it.
“Shh. You’ll wake him up. Be quiet.”
That was a different voice, quieter, but that one too had a laugh poorly hidden within it. He shifted. He was on his back. How had he gotten on his back? Rolling onto his side took a massive amount of effort. He felt clunky.
“Well, it’s too late now, he’s already awake.” Voice number one again. Why did that voice make him feel so…happy? Warm. “Wash? You up, buddy?” His eyes flickered open and it took him a long moment to process who he was looking at.
There was a figure leaning over him, tan skin, broad shoulders, feathery hair that was obviously kept in place by product. One good eye. One good, bright, twinkling eye. A scar across his face. “York?” he asked, his voice full of sleep. Then, after he’d processed what he’d said and seen, he sat upright quick as a flash. “York?”
There was a panic flooding through him, though his sleep-addled brain couldn’t exactly process why. Why was his heart going a million miles a minute? Clearly, York was thinking the same thing, judging by how high his eyebrows were climbing up his face.
“See, this is why we should have let him sleep.” The second voice sighed. Wash still couldn’t see the owner of that one. “He’s disoriented.”
“That’s what he gets for sleeping in his helmet.” York sighed, reaching out and gently tugging at Wash’s head. He hadn’t even noticed that the helmet had been on. The air outside his helmet still smelled filtered. Where was he?
Looking around, all he saw was grey. No…that wasn’t quite true. The walls and floor of the room were grey, but posters covered those walls. Most of them had cats on them. Cat posters? Why did it feel like ages since he had seen a cat poster? This was…his room. He was on his bed…and in full armor.
“Did D play another trick on you? You know sleeping in your armor is bad for your posture, right? There isn’t a mod for that yet. It’s a miracle North’s back isn’t terrible given the amount of time he spends lying down in armor.” York chuckled, setting Wash’s helmet down on the floor out of the way.
“Unfair. Just because you’re teaching a lesson doesn’t mean I have to be the butt of your jokes.” Voice number two…that was…
“North?” Once again, Wash had to wonder why exactly he felt so surprised. Why was his heart racing so fast he could feel it in his ears?
“You look like you were having bad dreams, Wash. Are you okay?” North asked and then York was nudged aside and there he was. Right in front of him. All worried lines in his forehead and tight lips and white-blonde hair. “Wash? What are you thinking?”
“Nothing…I’m not thinking anything.” Wash mumbled, shaking his head. What was he thinking?
“I agree with that.” York chuckled, earning him a glare and another nudge from North. “What? You’re thinking it too!” Turning to Wash, he flashed that winning grin that could stop anyone in their tracks. “Wash, hun, we know you love the bright colors, but when did you find time to paint your armor? Did you even get the go ahead? What am I talking about? Of course you got the go ahead.”
“What are you talking about?” Wash asked, utterly nonplussed. What kind of joke was this?
“The blue.” North said, the worry lines in his face only growing deeper by the second. “What’s with the blue?”
The blue? What blue? Looking down at himself, Wash blinked wordlessly at the strange sight before him. His armor. When had his armor become light blue? The same gold lines, but on top of the lightest blue he’d ever seen. It was so different. So strange. It didn’t really feel like him, and yet there it was, all over him. Whose colors were these? “I just…needed a change.” That sounded right. Once that thought was in his head it took root and he shrugged, looking up at the pair, one grinning and one frowning, both focused on him. “Stop fussing. Can’t a guy take a nap without suffering an Inquisition?”
“I don’t think North understands the concept of not fussing.” laughed York, deciding, it seemed, that it would be far more comfortable sitting on Wash’s bunk than standing over it. Wash didn’t feel the bed really begin to sink under the weight until North sat on his other side, rolling his eyes.
“Why is it, that whenever you’re worried about Wash, you turn it into jokes about me? That’s got to be unhealthy. Maybe you should consider getting a psych evaluation.” North groaned, catching Wash’s eye and winking at him.
“Everyone’s got their own coping mechanisms.” Wash chuckled, leaning against North’s side and sighing happily. He couldn’t feel North’s body heat through his armor, but it was enough knowing that he was there. It felt like it had been years since they’d been so close, which was ridiculous, but that didn’t stop Wash from wanting to soak up every moment of it.
“So…what’s the blue compensating for?” York pressed, unwilling to give it up. Reaching out, he ran his clever fingers over the newly blue armor. “Is this your way of trying to secretly tell me that North’s bad at sex? ‘Cause that’s not very nice. I mean, I know he’s not as good as me, but I think he’s pretty okay.”
Wash couldn’t stop himself from laughing, especially after North began to choke and splutter, playfully shoving him against York. “You two are so mean to me.” he groaned, his ‘why am I the only adult in the room?’ face firmly in place, though the worry creases had vanished, replaced with the little crow’s feet that always crinkled at the edges of his eyes when he was happy. Wash had never understood exactly how North had accumulated his wrinkles. He wasn’t nearly old enough for them, but then again, North had always been expressive, and quick to smile. It was easily one of his best qualities.
“North isn’t bad at sex!” Wash insisted, arching his neck in order to stick his tongue out at the very, very handsome Freelancer that stuck his tongue out right back at him. “North is great at sex and you know it.”
“Then what’s with the blue? It can’t mean that I’m bad at sex. That’s an actual impossibility.” York was trying his very hardest to look serious, and failing miserably at it. Now that Wash had started laughing, he couldn’t stop.
“I just needed a change. It’s like, a new phase in my life or something.” Wash sighed happily, pursing his lips and giving him a look that dared York to tell him it was stupid.
“Our little Wash is growing up? But then you won’t be our Wash anymore! Well…fine. As long you don’t outgrow us. Promise?” York pouted, absent-mindedly running his fingers through Wash’s hair.
“Of course I promise.” Wash scoffed, rolling his eyes.
“Well, I think it’s nice.” And there was North, right on time to save him from York’s relentless teasing. What a saint. “I mean, blue isn’t the color I would have chosen for you, but it’s nice that you’re branching out.”
“Now who’s being mean?” York snorted. “When did you become the fashion police? Don’t listen to him, Wash, blue is your color. You should trust me more, obviously. Who do you think has better taste, Mr. Purple Everything and regulation hair, or me, with the best hair a man could ask for and a variety of colors in my wardrobe?”
North opened his mouth to reply, but was stopped by the sudden presence of Wash’s still gloved hand. “I don’t need either other you judging my fashion choices. You’re both pretty. Now, how about we get me out of this armor, seeing as it’s the cause of all this bickering?”
“That is the best idea I’ve ever heard.” York grinned, hands immediately going to Wash’s shoulders and finding the clips that held the armor together. North’s hands weren’t far behind. Wash didn’t have to do anything, just relax and let them take care of him.
Being taken care of felt like a breath of fresh air after being strangled. He wasn’t exactly sure why it felt that way though. He saw North and York every day and they always spoiled him more than he deserved. There was no reason for him to feel so starved for attention. At yet the feeling of North’s enormous hands on his chest once his breast plate had been removed and set aside still made his breath hitch. They were so warm and strong.
“Someone’s needy.” York breathed against his ear, making Wash shiver. “What’s got you so wound up? Are we just that exciting?”
“Shut up.” Wash groaned, squeezing his eyes closed tightly. He knew York would take that as a yes, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. York was allowed to have small victories every once in a while. Just not too often.
Getting the rest of the suit off didn’t require too much movement and once he was free of it, there was a split-second of worry that those two sets of hands would leave him. It was a ridiculous worry and was put to rest almost as soon as it had sprung into being. North’s warm, strong hands still firmly placed themselves on his chest and York’s quick fingers made themselves busy exploring their way down his sides. These were some of the best feelings in the world. Wash would be perfectly happy losing himself in them forever.
He could hear North chuckling quietly. They were so close together, he could feel it. Opening his eyes, Wash stared at North’s gentle features for a long moment. Long enough to make North lean forward and whisper “Are you sure you’re okay?” in his ear. If York had heard, he didn’t respond. It had been just for Wash’s ears. Smiling gently at the blonde before him, Wash nodded. He was fine. He was more than fine.
Seemingly satisfied with this nonverbal response, North’s hands moved from his chest to his head, framing his face and leaning forward to lock their lips together. So maybe there were some feelings better than their hands on him. This, for example, felt much better. His eyes slid closed and he leaned forward, away from York, trying to press himself closer closer closer to North. As close as possible. They pulled apart far too quickly for his taste, but there was North’s smile once again and how could he be upset when North was smiling that gently at him?
He could feel York leaning forward, pressing his chest against Wash’s back, his arms slipping around his waist to hold him tightly. Warm. He felt utterly warm and safe. Even though his armor was already off him, the parts removed by North in a small pile against the wall, the parts removed by York scattered out of reach, his skin suit felt as though it was just a hair too tight and it was killing him. With a small groan, he shifted against the pair of them, worming his arms free in order to start peeling it off. He almost hated the quiet laugh that escaped York’s lips. Almost. York’s arms unwound themselves, but instead of leaving him, began to assist Wash in the laborious process of getting the skin suit off.
North leaned back and simply watched, eyes a bit darker than they had been a moment before, following the progression of the tight black material as it slid off Wash’s shoulders and down his chest. His hands alighted on Wash’s shoulders as Wash rose to his knees to slip the suit past his hips, and slid to those newly bared hips as Wash kicked the suit off entirely, leaving it abandoned alongside the pieces of armor.
“You know, Wash. I was wrong.” York purred, pressing his lips to a freckled shoulder blade before slipping off the bed in order to toss his own clothes into the rapidly growing pile on the floor. “Blue isn’t your color.” Once fully undressed, York returned, to the bed and continued his mission of kissing all the freckles on Wash’s back. “This is your color. Definitely. Never wear anything but this.”
“So never wear clothes? I’d look best naked all the time?” Wash said, grinning and shaking his head, though unwilling to move away from York.
“You said it.” York replied without missing a beat, mouth now between Wash’s shoulder blades.
“I hate to agree with such a ridiculous comment,” North smiled, taking his own turn to stand and add his clothes to the pile. Wash watched unabashedly, eyes trailing their way down North’s body. His favorite giant. “But forget blue. I’m loving this freckle color you’ve got on now. You should stick with it.” Back on the bed, North ignored the way Wash rolled his eyes and leaned forward in order to seal his lips on Wash’s neck, instantly working on creating a mark.
Wash gasped and shivered, still not quite used to all this attention. He adored it, craved it, but wasn’t used to it. Every touch surprised him. His skin was starving for their touch. He couldn’t stop the bright red blush that blossomed on his cheeks, only made worse by the fact that he knew that blush would creep down his body and wouldn’t go unnoticed for long.
Lo and behold, he could feel York’s hum of approval and hear him shift upwards in order to whisper into Wash’s ear. “Worked up, Wash? Want to stop playing?”
He knew he nodded a bit too quickly. The dream of playing it cool was officially dead and York’s pleased “As you wish.” wasn’t helping the state of his blush.
The world felt like it was swirling, moving a million miles a minute. His heartbeat was loud in his ears, his body too hot to bear. Everything was too fast and blurry. One second, he was wrapped in York’s arms, his back pressed tight against York’s chest, the next, York was gently moving him into North’s lap, his hips bucking without conscious thought until York’s calloused hands were on him, stilling him. His eyes were closed, focused on the feeling of York’s hands and North’s body under him. He could feel the way North shifted, hear the rustle of blankets, but didn’t open his eyes. Being surprised by everything was mesmerizing. Simply feeling and listening was more than enough. The sound of a cap being popped open, the cold feeling of North’s unbelievably long fingers finding their way to his ass, leaving a wet trail in their wake. Those slick fingers probing their way inside of him, first one, then two, and the room was filled with his broken voice and he couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed anymore. Not when York was whispering to him an endless string of praise. How perfect he looked. How good he was being. And on and on until Wash felt drunk with it. How could he have forgotten what this felt like? How could he have allowed himself to go so long without doing this? Why weren’t they doing this every single moment of every single day? Things that felt this good should never stop. Was it too much to ask for it never to stop?
As North’s fingers worked in and out of him, making his head spin, one of York’s hands moved from his hip to his cock. Wash wasn’t at all ready for that touch. He was already so hard, just from North’s fingers and York’s words, York’s hand moving up and down him in unbearably slow strokes was quickly becoming almost too much. The noises that escaped his lips were probably shameful, but it made both North and York moan and redouble their efforts. He could feel North getting hard beneath him and tried his best to wiggle his hips despite York’s grip on him. North deserved just as much stimulation as he was giving and if North’s sharp intake of breath was anything to go by, Wash’s efforts were appreciated.
Wash was almost positive that if North didn’t fuck him that very instant, he was going to die. His whole body would just shake itself into nothingness. “North.” he whined, bending forward to pant against North’s shoulder. “Please.” Wash had never been above a bit of begging. It always got him what he wanted and now was no exception. That one little word was enough to convince North to remove his fingers from him and move Wash’s hips into an appropriate angle for Wash to be lowered onto North’s cock with a hiss of pure pleasure. North was a massive man, every single part of him a little too big to be allowed. Wash almost wished he had let North spread him open with his fingers just a little bit longer as he sunk down on North slowly. The feeling of having not been touched in ages returned full force as he felt himself be split open, breath ragged. Once North had bottomed out inside him, Wash stilled until his heart had slowed to a healthier pace. One of North’s hands had found its way into his hair, pulling ever so slightly as Wash adjusted. He could hear North’s breathing, almost as ragged as his own, shallow and quick. Behind him, York was leaving a mark on his shoulder, still stroking him so slowly that it was almost cruel. Once adjusted, Wash was sure he was going to lose his mind if he had to wait any longer to move. His body was burning and desperate.
York’s remaining hand left Wash’s hip once his breathing had returned to normal, removing the only force that was keeping him still. Wash didn’t need to be told to move. Every part of him was screaming at him to tilt his head back and ride North for all he was worth. He wanted nothing more to remember what it felt like to be used to such incredible treatment. York’s hand stilled on Wash, leaving him practically fucking York’s hand with every motion. If Wash had thought there was too much going on around him before, he was drowning in sensation now. Wash could hear York moan against his shoulder as the hand that had been holding Wash’s hip now moved to his own cock, stroking himself to the sight of his two lovers losing themselves in each other. Wash could feel York’s lips leave him and then the press of his chest as York leaned against him, skin almost burning to the touch.
North’s quiet moans quickly became even more muffled and when Wash tilted his head back up and gazed with heavily lidded eyes at him, it was to the gorgeous sight of York leaning over Wash’s shoulder to kiss North as hard as physically possible, their eyes closed tightly. They were both so gorgeous. How was it possible to be so gorgeous? How was it fair that he got both of them? It wasn’t, he’d robbed someone out there of one of the most perfect people in the universe. Wash wasn’t even a little bit sorry.
His grip on time was shaky at best, but it still didn’t feel as though they’d had nearly enough of it when Wash felt himself nearing his limit. His moans were growing more and more desperate, his skin prickling with built up energy. He could only just hear North’s own quiet noises, mostly muttered repetition of “Wash” and “York”. He could feel York’s heavy breath against his neck, becoming more ragged by the second.
It wasn’t long before Wash’s shaking legs finally quit on him and with a gasp and a cry, he was coming undone, his full weight pressing against North’s chest, his body tightening around North, making North groan and throw his head back, his body arching. It only took a few quick, shallow thrusts before he too was spent. Wash could feel the heat that spread through him, making him moan once more. Behind him, he could hear York’s ragged breathing turning into breathless moans. He wanted to turn and help in some way, but every part of him was spent. He felt utterly boneless. Breathless moans became louder and higher, and then a sharp hiss. Wash could feel York’s release against his back and groaned into North’s chest. He didn’t have the energy to shower. His whole world was nothing but sensation, a bright, warm, fuzzy universe that was made up of nothing but these feelings that had no end in sight.
Once the three of them had calmed down enough to move, North’s strong arms lifted Wash up just enough to lay him down on his back. On either side of him, North and York pressed close, North’s nose pressing into his hair and York’s head resting on his chest. York’s eyes were closed, his features utterly relaxed. Wash couldn’t see North’s expression. The only thing that could have made him any more comfortable was a shower, and that was utterly out of the question.
“If the blue makes you happy, you should go for it…but just remember that you’ll always be our Wash, okay?” North’s voice was so quiet. Wash wasn’t sure if he was even meant to hear. “When you’ve figured out whatever you’re figuring out, you can always come back to us.” The comfortable feeling was slowly going away. Why were North’s words making him so sad? So sad. “Goodnight, Wash.” These words were louder and followed by a kiss to the top of his head. Wash felt safe responding to them. “Goodnight, North.” Closing his eyes, taking a deep breath and listening to the even breathing of the two people most important to him, Wash felt himself drifting away from that perfect moment. It didn’t really feel like falling asleep. Falling of some sort, though.
***
The first words out of his mouth when Wash woke were a string of curses and a long, tired groan. A dream. A fucking dream. He felt gross, sticky. He desperately needed to bathe. There was an ache in his chest that only grew worse the longer he remained awake. It had been a long time since he’d dreamed of them. It didn’t make those particular dreams any easier when he woke from them.
He could hear the sounds of nature and gunshots from outside. The crash site. The reds and blues. He wasn’t on board the Mother of Invention. He wasn’t in bed with Agents North and York. He’d never be in either of those places ever again.
Rubbing his eyes, Wash stood and stretched, frowning at the pile of armor on the floor beside his makeshift bed. Blue. Pale blue and yellow armor. He frowned at it for a long moment before leaving it behind to clean up. Once he had scrubbed the feeling of their hands on him away, Wash returned to the blue armor and pulled it on laboriously.
On his way out into the green world of fresh air that couldn’t have been any different from the world of his dream, Wash spotted Tucker, probably avoiding work and called him over. “What do you want?” Tucker groaned once they were side by side, his posture obviously expecting the worst.
“I just…have a question.” Wash mumbled, not exactly sure where he was going. His mouth was forming words before he had any time to process them.
“Yeah? Shoot.” Tucker said. Wash was sure that behind his helmet, Tucker was arching an eyebrow at him.
“Do you think, I mean, do you think blue is like, my color?” he asked and immediately regretted those words. What was wrong with him? How unprofessional could he possibly get?
“Dude.” Tucker said flatly. “Did you seriously just ask me that?”
“I guess? You know what? Never mind. That was a dumb question.” Wash said quickly, thankful for the helmet that hid his scarlet face.
“Yeah, you can say that again.”
“Moving on.” Wash coughed, the sudden need to get as far away from that topic as possible coursing through him. “We should get the radio fixed today. You can help me.” And then he was moving, walking as fast as he could toward their new destination, ignoring Tucker's complaints about how much it “sucked” that he had to be the one to do all the work.
Maybe blue wasn’t his color. Maybe his color was still grey. But right now, he wasn’t focused on himself. Blue teamed needed a leader and he was there. Willing and able. For now, he was Wash, captain of the Blue team. Maybe one day, he’d be able to be Agent Washington again, but that possibility seemed far, far away. Especially when the radio still needed to be fixed and there was an incredibly ominous mechanical noise off in the distance and Caboose was nowhere to be seen. What had North said to him in the dream? He could always come back. Eventually, it would be time, but for now, blue was definitely his color.