Evergreen and Amber

Act 4: Party Party Party

It took about five minutes for York to feel divided. He loved parties. Parties were his jam. But hanging out with Wash was his jam, too. And Wash wasn't quite the shining, pulsing light at any party, let alone one here with a bunch of people he didn't care for or didn't know. York glanced at his friend from across the room, wishing he had his arm around him. Wishing he didn't look so...awkward. It drove him insane how much he loved spending time with Wash, yet how antisocial Wash was with just about anyone else.

They'd been wandering through the base to see the latest additions for maybe thirty minutes before Nelson had grumbled and tried to put them to work helping clear some debris from recent remodeling in one of the cave branches. Luckily, Samael was there, one arm around the scowling female's shoulders as the other gestured grandly while he spun a tale about how they hadn't caught up in forever, and that it was a perfect opportunity to compare notes, and perhaps even share a few friendly opportunities over booze and light snacks.

He was very persuasive, and she had, of course, replied with a strong "Fuck no."

York and Wash were almost resigned to their awkward fate. However, after Samael promised he'd take on that suicidal job in Wortistan that everyone else kept shying away from, Nelson had grudgingly given them a whole two hours of rec time. And Samael wasn't going to waste a single second, apparently; her approval hadn't even finished echoing around the cave before he'd yanked open a closet and rolled out what amounted to a portable bar as several other rebels whooped and jumped into assist him. Light music soon streamed from speakers that had been sloppily wired around the room...well, cavern. It was sometimes hard to remember that Sidewinder was literally just a cave system in the cliffs of Honkal. Technically still under construction, no less.

But Nelson and her crew had put hard work into it, and it felt almost like a real base. Furniture, appliances, a shitload of admittedly impressive radio equipment -- York was pretty sure if Wash wasn't so busy scowling in the corner, he would have been just a tad bit fascinated by how much they were working with. Maybe a little jealous, too -- L-Base was a far more expansive, complete facility, but they didn't have half the communications and hacking gear S-Base did.

A tiny smile slid onto York's face. Well, that was probably one benefit of Nelson's star asshole being butt-buddies with the most prolific grifter on all of Sirca.

Said star asshole appeared at York's side, his expression bright and flirtatious all at once. York shot his pal a grin back, his hand moving of its own accord to snag the bottle of beer Samael tossed up to him. "Heh. Nice thirty-second party, Sammy."

"Shit, y'all deserve the best Sidewinder has to offer!" Samael replied with mocking courtesy as he bowed low and swept an arm out. "You don't gotta get in my pants to enjoy the party..."

"...But it doesn't hurt!" York chimed in with a laugh, clinking the bottle with a twin that Samael had gripped by the neck. "How you been, man?" He saw Wash glowering across the room at them and he sort of wished the silly bastard would just come over and try a little socializing. He might have found Samael grating, but York wasn't so stupid to realize he and the drawling Sampi native weren't all that different at their cores...and Wash seemed to get along with him just fine. But it didn't look like his little buddy had any intention of moving away from his sulking-corner.

"Aw you know me, I could complain but no one'd listen," Samael replied, waving the still-unopened bottle around. "Leg's about closed up from the shit in Blarganthia -- owe you 'n Mr. Sourpuss a proper thank you for that, yet."

"Eh, I'm sure you and Andee woulda figured a way out on your own eventually," York chuckled, his eyes resting on Wash again from across the room as he tipped the bottle back for a long swig. "You two been in tighter spots than that, right?"

"Dude, I gave three blowjobs to three different guys that were watchin' our cell and we still didn't get out. Those fuckers had no sense of honor."

"Rude."

"Heh, right? And speakin'a rude, why's yer frumpy partner holdin' up the wall over 'ere?" Samael squinted at Wash as York tried to think of a less-than-embarrassing way to say 'Wash isn't so great at social events'. "Oooh, 'cause he ain't got a drink yet." He glanced at the bottle in his hand, then yelled across the room. "Yo, Wash! Beer's up!" He lobbed the bottle in a wide arc and it soared over several rebels' heads in a neat trajectory toward Wash...

...who glanced up and then swiftly ducked to one side with a scowl. The bottle shattered on the wall behind him to send beer and bits of broken glass everywhere as Wash's frown deepened. Samael huffed and put his hands on his hips as several of his cohorts all stared awkwardly in Wash's direction. "Party foul, hon! You gotta catch it, not duck it!"

Wash narrowed his eyes, the intensity cutting past everyone else to smack right into Samael...though as always, the grinning redneck just winked and opened his muzzle to yell again, only to be cut off by Nelson's sharp voice from another room.

"Goddammit, Wurlitz!"

"What'd I do?!?" Samael hollered back while casually shuffling to York's other side. "You wanna go make out for ten minutes in case she comes to whoop my ass?"

York smirked but his eyes drifted back to Wash once again. "You know I'd normally be down, but...not today. Wanna keep an eye on Wash."

Samael frowned, following York's gaze. "What, he get fucked up out in my ol' stompin' grounds? Shit, man, shoulda said summin' -- Patch is in today, he c'n take a look at yer li'l Grumpy Gus. We even got real bandages now!"

York snickered softly but then reached out to flick Samael's forehead lightly. "He's fine. No first aid needed. And hey, do me a favor...leave the little dude alone, it's been a...long day. And you know he has trouble getting along with your dumb ass already, not to mention how often Nelson's tearing him a new one."

"Well shit, she do that to everyone, he ain't special," Samael snorted, though it was clear he still respected York's request. "A'right, a'right, I'll play nice fer now. But I wanna know what the hell y'all got up to out there, an' why in the hell you ended up gettin' a lift with Nelson of all folks." He looked down at his empty hands, then shrugged and reached up to swiftly pilfer York's beer and take a drink from it while snickering and batting away the thick arm that grabbed back for it.

"Hey, ya tiny bat-fucker! Gimme that back!" He huffed as Samael stole another sip before handing it back, the two squinting at each other and then breaking into matching grins again. "But, haw, that's a helluva tale -- hey, let's get Wash a non-flying beer and he c'n help tell the --"

"Samael, where the fuck are you, I need your fuckin' help!"

Samael huffed, at both the yelling as well as his buddy's interrupted story, yelling back over the gentle music and conversations again. "O'Neill, ya dirty fucker, I'm tryna entertain guests here!! Gimme five minutes!" He jerked a thumb over his shoulder while commenting in a normal voice to York. "Some people, can you believe this asshole?"

"Fuck your five minutes! You can compare dicks later, we got a whole repeater down in here!"

"Fer the love of...gawddamn whiny sons-a-bitches," Samael muttered before once again hollering in a sing-song tone: "No need to compare when I've already had both in my hand!!"

York snorted laughter as Samael shrugged amicably. "Sorry, York -- duty calls." He held up a fist and York automatically bumped it with one of his own before glancing over to see Wash looking incredibly unimpressed.

...Well now York felt bad. "Okay, let's try this again," he muttered to himself, glancing around for the beer supply and then brightening as he spotted the bucket and made his way toward it...only for a tall, slender chupa in a hoodie to bump into him. York offered a quick "whoops!" and hopped backward...before he perked curiously as the familiar face tilted shyly toward him. "Oh, Vinny! Hey, dude, what's up? Haven't seen you in a minute!"

"Oh, hi, York," Vinny mumbled, shoving his hands into the front of his hooded sweatshirt. "I'm okay." It looked he might just scoot away to avoid interaction, but he paused and then brightened. "Oh right! I had my first solo mission last week! I helped a family get outta town and to a safe house, one of their kids was wanted for going AWOL, and...with the House cracking down on families of people..."

"Yeah, I've heard." York grimaced and for a moment was glad he hadn't made his way back to Wash -- he imagined the extremely moody face he would have given being reminded about that whole thing going on. "But hey, man, your first solo gig! Everything go well?"

Vinny nodded, his smile warm despite his withdrawn demeanor. "Yeah. We got them to one of the Movement houses and they're safe, now. I even got to drive my first pick-up! Sammy's lessons have been paying off."

"Awesome -- congrats, dude. Just don't let that sneaky bastard teach you too much, or Nelson's gonna be on your ass too!" York paused and then leaned down to whisper. "Hey, uh. How're your folks? Mom still running things downtown?"

"Yeaaaah, they're doing well," he replied while peering at York warily. "She's just picked up another district. Dad went over to talk to their boss, and. Well. Uh. It's theirs now."

York grinned broadly, his features painted with boyish excitement. "Heh, that's so cool. Your parents are so cool. You think they've got any jobs for me yet?? There's gotta be something I can help with! A delivery? An extortion?! I'm good for it!"

"Um. Y-yeah, they uh. They told me to let you know that. They aren't looking for uh. Your kind of help." Vinny cleared his throat and then reached up to pat York's arm gently. "But um. I promise I'll let you know if they ever do ask for you!"

"Sweet!" York beamed and gave a thumbs up that Vinny sheepishly returned before he gave a polite smile and shuffled off to join a few of his comrades near a speaker. "Sammy's right -- kid's gonna kick ass one day," he remarked before he refocused on his goal. "Beer. Wash. Make smile. Green light to proceed," he muttered under his breath as he made a beeline for the bucket of ice-covered bottles. He snagged two out -- his was almost empty already, after all (thanks, Sammy, ya thirsty bitch), and then trotted quickly toward Wash with a bright smile.

His puppy-dog approach made his friend stare awkwardly, but there wasn't anywhere the little guy could duck to hide and so he was forced to simply sigh and let it happen. "York, this...isn't really my kind of thing." York listened but simply nodded and shoved a bottle into his companion's hand. "I don't even want a beer right now."

"Bah, just pretend to drink it! We're tryin' to be social, right?? Make peace and whatnot!"

"Mmm," Wash mumbled, just cradling the bottle for a moment. He did smile after a moment, however, and glanced up at his friend. "That was the kid whose parents run the Honkal Hula Club, wasn't it? Victor? Vincent?"

"Vinny, yeah!" York's eyes all but glowed as he danced excitedly from paw to paw. "He said his folks picked up another district recently! They've gotta be one of the biggest hoops in Honkal by now!"

Wash smiled despite himself and tilted his head bemusedly as he studied York. "You are...so obsessed."

"Am not!"

"You're literally dancing in place. ...Did you ask for a job again?"

York jut his chin out childishly. "Just one! I'm not gonna leave you for a hoop, but c'mon, man, just a couple of jobs! Oh man, those guys are so cool, they get matching tracksuits, Wash." He turned toward his friend, gripping both of his shoulders and staring down at him. "Matching. Tracksuits."

Wash laughed and shook his head slowly as York pouted. "York, you realize we can just go...get our own matching tracksuits if we wanted? You don't have to work for a hoop for that."

"Yeah, but...but it's the status! Being part of hoop gives you so much street cred," York rambled dreamily as his eyes glazed over for a moment, imagining all the cool shit he and Wash would get up to if they were part of a hoop. They could even make sure only the right people got their kneecaps broken! It'd be a win all around, honestly.

"You...are so weird," Wash noted, and York peered down at him, but smiled when he saw the amusement on Wash's face. "I mean. You'd think being a Freelancer would count for more."

"Naaaah, that's so last Holy War, hoops are where it's at now," York replied confidently. He then poked the still-unopened bottle he'd handed his friend. "Okay, you gotta at least open it, you butt-munch." He glanced at the broken glass behind Wash with a half-grin. "Nice reflexes, by the way."

"He's such an asshole," Wash grumbled, popping the cap off and making a show of taking a big, fake swallow. "And I'm not a butt-munch, you're a butt-munch," he added in a surly tone. York watched him with an amused smile. Poor Wash was so very uncomfortable. He looked around for someone who could maybe help them look a little less awkward...and when he turned back around, Wash had set aside his bottle with a sigh to fetch a broom that was leaning nearby so he could start to clean up the shattered beer bottle.

"Uh...dude, really??"

"It's messy," Wash replied impishly before they both blinked as someone reached past York to carefully pull the broom handle out of his hands.

They turned to peer at..."Uhh, oh, shit...Nebraska??"

She offered them both a small smile. "Uh. Hey. Here, you're the guests, let me take care of this."

Wash huffed quietly. "Oh, you don't need to -- this is your guys' party, you should enjoy it."

"Well...we are kind of having it because you're here, that's why Sammy convinced Nelson to um. You know. Let this happen," she explained while carefully sweeping up the bits of glass into a dustbin that was attached to the broom.

"Oh shit, yeah -- I heard him say something to Nelson about a job in Wortistan. Something no one else wants to do?" York tilted his head querulously, already knowing the kind of missions Samael often ended up with.

Her face clouded for a moment with a small frown. "It's. Just a very dangerous mission. Impersonating a Blue officer to gain access to their newest server bank." She sighed but then nodded to herself. "He should be fine, though. That kind of is what he does best."

Wash offered a noncommittal grunt as York gave a nod of his own. The three of them stood in silence for a moment before curiosity apparently got the better of Wash. He sighed and then picked up his bottle again as he looked at Nebraska. "So uh. It's been a long time."

York decided that was a good start, rewarding Wash's attempt at socializing with a friendly arm around his shoulders as he smiled at the other ex-Freelancer. He felt Wash shift to glance up at him, but when his friend didn't try to pull away, York added inquisitively: "Yeah -- you were paired up with that extra-large combo meal Maine, right? Lord, he was a beast..."

Nebraska nodded even as a brief frown whisked across her features again. "Yeah. We worked together for a good while, actually."

"I remember doing a couple of missions with him and...seriously." Wash studied her for a moment, seeming to take reassurance from York's arm. "How are you still in one piece? Half the time I couldn't tell if he even knew the difference between his teammates and the enemy."

She shifted her weight slightly. "Well....he really wasn't as scary as everyone thought." York and Wash shared a quick, disbelieving glance, but she pushed onward stubbornly. "I. I trusted him, and he saved my life more than once. And we had a lot of successful missions." She frowned and looked down. "But after he was sent to the House for classified operations, I was on my own and. Well. The Director, he sent me on a lot of..."

"Suicide runs?" York supplied as Wash shifted silently at his side. They both remembered that kind of job plenty. For every hilarious anecdote about breaking up a happy couple with adultery, there was one about being sent into the heart of an extremely-fortified military facility with dozens of well-armed enemies and zero backup...and it always felt like it was a test, just another intentional scenario created to push them to their limits so their performance could be recorded, analyzed and filed away...whether or not they came out with their lives.

She nodded and looked away, her expression steeped with mixed emotions. York wondered if some part of her missed it...or perhaps just missed her old partner. He stole another look at Wash and wondered how things would have been different if they'd been separated before this. Would Wash still have turned against the organization? Would York have? Or would he have kept fighting, kept being used, willingly shoving himself into deadlier and deadlier situations to give his life meaning...or maybe to at least make his death fight for it.

He shook his head briefly to clear the thoughts as Wash spoke. "That sounds about right? So...how'd you end up with Nelson, then? She's not usually one to even remotely trust Freelancers, even those who quit the job."

York could help smiling quietly, thinking back to those early days, when Tracer was there, somehow managing to both rile the two into full-blown shouting matches while simultaneously keeping the peace. Their affiliation with Freelancer had made them ripe targets for Nelson...and it didn't help that Tracer held some obvious distaste for it, himself, even if he'd always been oddly fair with his insults (and rare kind words) for all of them. Nelson had only doubled down on that, unfortunately, after his demise. He was still shocked she'd granted them the lift, even if it was Ashley's ship. Clearly Nelson had the final say, and regardless of her insistence she owed them for saving Samael (and Andee), it was a surprise all the same.

Nebraska seemed to understand the pain of Nelson's bias, considering the scowl that appeared. "Well...yes. Um. I've been here for almost six quarters and I think I'm finally being accepted by most of them. Nelson sends me on missions by myself now, so. I think it's finally okay. Sammy's helped with that."

Wash's face morphed into a grouchy frown, not even trying to make his fake-beer-sipping look convincing. "Of course he has."

York, on the other hand, grinned amusedly. "Damn, you're a Pony Recruit, too, huh?" He then paused and cleared his throat awkwardly when she gave him a puzzled look. "I mean. I guess you wouldn't be. Technically. Since you're uh. You know."

The elbow Wash fired into his side might have ruptured something, but it at least made him stop talking long enough for Nebraska's confused face to turn to a small smile. "Sammy did recruit me, yeah. Which was kind of funny because I actually almost, um. Killed him." Both York and Wash stopped elbowing each other to look at her curiously. "You know the Sons of Sirca?"

Wash wrinkled his muzzle in thought. "Oh, they're...that cult, aren't they? A bunch of dumb backwoods rednecks responsible for the occasional firebombing?"

"Yeah, that's them. I was scouting one of their compounds, and uh. Well, Samael was doing a job in the area, and. Well. Since, he's. Um."

"Also a dumb backwoods redneck?" Wash supplied dryly.

"Yeah! Wait, no, I mean, uh. He just sounded like them! With the accents!" she explained while waving an arm awkwardly. "So uh, I thought he was one of them, and well. Luckily nothing bad happened, and. He ended up asking me if I wanted to leave Freelancer. I guess he could tell I wasn't...happy. Or something. I don't know how he does that."

"He's pretty good at it," York admitted while gently squeezing the grumble away from Wash. "Even if he's not always great at the response to it."

"You mean the beer bottle he tried to hit me with?" Wash intoned.

"Don't worry, those cat-like reflexes of yours are still as sharp as ever!" York replied brightly, hip-checking his friend gently. He then smiled back at Nebraska. "It's good to see you got out, though. And even better you're with the good guys now."

"The good insane guys," Wash mumbled. "Nelson's as likely to get us all killed as she is making any real difference in this war."

Nebraska tilted her head, then spoke carefully: "Nelson is. Um. Very intense, but. She does good work. And she really cares about this. I mean. Really cares about it."

"Yeah, I...I know," Wash muttered, leaning against York unintentionally as he fiddled with his still-full bottle. "Doesn't make it any easier to work with her. There's passionate and there's goddamn zealous. We don't need zealots, we're trying to fight them."

Nebraska chewed on this for a moment, then regarded the two companions thoughtfully. "I've seen zealous, both inside the House and outside it. Nelson doesn't seem like them. And with the way she talks about you, well. You must be pretty passionate about this war, too." Wash frowned at her, not angrily, but...with confusion. "Well, when she talks about you, she usually gets mad. The same way she does about Sammy and how he does his missions. And I don't know many fighters who are as passionate as him."

York smiled slightly, tilting his head before glancing down at Wash. She had a pretty good point. In fact, he thought she just about hit it on the head. Wash's huff confirmed it. "Guess it's fair to say we're all here for the right reasons, then?" York offered with a laugh.

Nebraska nodded firmly. "I want to believe so." She then smiled briefly to them both before excusing herself to wander across the cavern to Samael's portable bar.

"You still think she's gonna just be another statistic?" York inquired with a nudge to Wash.

"Yes," he replied grumpily.

"Oh, you're such a...pine cone," York complained. Wash stared up at him for a moment.

"A what?"

"A pine cone. You're. All prickly and spiky and grumpy."

"Pine cones can't be grumpy." Wash crossed his arms with a scowl.

"Yeah, but then on the flip-side, you also smell nice." York paused and then grinned stupidly. "And you're full of seeds!" He already saw Wash's expression changing to one of horror, but he nonetheless leaned down to add in a loud whisper: "My seeds!"

"Oh my god I'm going to kill you," Wash groaned as he held the cold bottle up to his forehead like an ice pack. The little flush York felt on the back of his neck was kinda delightful. "I'm. Going to go. Somewhere else." His eyes flicked across the room. "The radio room. I'm going to go look at the radio room so I'm not tempted to break this bottle off in your ass."

"Promises, promises," York sang out even as he smiled slightly and lifted his arm up to free Wash so he could storm across the cavern to stare at the stacks of electronic equipment wired together in an adjoining room. But before he could even lower his arm again, there was someone else beneath it. He blinked and glanced down to see a female he wasn't familiar with, all but gushing up at him as she held up a beer while casually pressing into his side.

"Oh, hi, there! You're from the other branch, aren't you?? Your beer looked almost empty -- I thought you could use another one!" Her fingers were on a new bottle, her eyes were on his chest. Well. It wasn't the worst combination. He grinned slightly and shrugged easily, tossing his empty beer neatly into a bin and accepting the offered one.

"Don't mind if I do!" He casually used his belt buckle to pop the lid off, which naturally made her gasp in delight and press closer to his side. "So. What do you do here, eh?"

She began to babble away about the crops she tended to and York was...sort of listening. Okay, that was a lie. He was barely listening, because his eyes had already drifted back to Wash. And he blinked when he noticed Wash staring at a small wooden board mounted next to the radio room. York tilted his head slightly before he realized several sets of keys were hung up on the plank. "Mhmm -- and you take care of them all yourself?" York asked, somehow timing it perfectly so that the rebel...farmer giggled breathlessly at the attention he was clearly giving to her as she proceeded to rattle off a list of all the other things she also took care of mostly sort of by herself.

His eyes danced with amusement as he watched Wash casually glance across the room. He traced the same gaze, mouthing under his breath, "Wait...wait for it...wait...and now!"

"What was that?" He paused and glanced down at the sexy little number still attached to his waist. A sexy little number that wasn't Wash, though. Lord, what was wrong with him -- his motto was 'why choose when you can have both', so why was this even up for debate? Goddamn, Wash really was getting to him. And he wasn't even sure he minded.

"Uh. I mean, and now what do you do with your...free...time?" Hopefully that made sense to ask after whatever she'd sai-- yes, she was off to the races again, okay, good. He let his eyes slide across the room again as Wash leaned against the wall, his arm lifted in a natural-enough looking pose...and there it was! His friend palmed one of the keys and promptly looked up in what must have been surprise with his own smoothness. He managed to meet York's eyes, and York grinned his approval...before trying not to snort laughter as Wash immediately dropped the keys and stooped down to fumble them off the ground.

...Well, luckily everyone else was too busy relaxing and enjoying the downtime to notice. York chuckled softly to himself before he glanced down again at the new limb he hadn't yet been able to detach. "Uh...hey, listen -- do you have a room here?"

Her eyes widened, that delightful mix of eagerness and an attempt to look shocked. "O-oh, gosh...well, yes, yes I do!" she replied hurriedly.

"Awesome, awesome -- hey, just so it doesn't look weird, how about you head there now, and I'll meet you there in a few minutes! And we can...talk. Gardening."

"Okay!" she replied, no longer attempting to look shocked. "Uh...how will you know which room it is?"

York produced his finest cocky grin. "Oh, don't worry, baby. I'll know."

She nearly left a puddle at his feet as she gave an excited giggle and then quickly disappeared around the corner, leaving him to sigh in...well, mostly relief. Perhaps just a smidge of reluctance. It would have been one mark closer to catching up to Sammy in their scorebook. But his reluctance was quickly replaced by a happy smile when Wash wandered back up to him. "Heh, nice. What do you have in mind, buddy?"

"Uh...do you need to, um. Go for now? To follow that girl?" Wash asked, so bluntly awkward that York couldn't help but smile again and wrap an arm around his friend's waist. He felt Wash tense up but then gently push into his side.

"Hell no. I'm down for whatever crazy plan you have, dude, bros before --"

"Oh god, stop," Wash mumbled before glancing furtively around the room. "Okay, look. We're. Gonna get so yelled at, but fuck waiting for Samael to take us, let's just. Go get whatever boat these keys are for and go ourselves. We can get the boat back to Nelson at some point, but. I dunno about you, I'm tired and I don't wanna socialize anymore, I just. I just wanna go."

York wasn't sure why he opened his muzzle and asked "With me?" but. There it was, alongside a stupidly happy skip in his gut.

Wash blinked and then gave a half-smile. "Yeah. Who else would I want to sneak out of a party with? Let's go, before your stupid pal Sammy notices. Or worse, Nelson."

"Good point," York replied with a laugh, his eyes flicking over the cavern. "I'll grab the pack. Meet me at the stairs. Operation Blow This Joint To Steal A Party Boat Just For Us is a go."

"This is why I don't let you pick cover identities," Wash grumbled, though the expression of almost boyish delight was undeniable. This was definitely the happiest he'd ever looked at a party...and York was gladly gonna take that.

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