so about them yankees ( complete )

[blackfour]

Characters: Black-Four (blackfour), Washington (freelancerpower).
Setting/Location: Cell A, Dungeon, PLANET MAGICAL.
Date & Time: Day 5 . . . sometime.
Warnings: Some colorful vocabulary, but otherwise -- none.
Summary: Girl, don't act like you don't see me. Semi-open just in case things get heated, and someone wants to step in before Four plants Wash's face into a wall

Comments

[freelancerpower]

It took a lot of self-control not to do anything when Wash woke up in a fucking prison cell.

He had stayed still, very, very still, not moved an inch since regaining consciousness, sitting in his corner and doing his best to process this admittedly screwed up situation. It's -- not the chairman, at least, not the same kind of cell he's been in before, and most notably, he's not alone. Being stuck in this tiny little space with what, to his eyes, was a whole bunch of civilians was bewildering, frustrating, and most of all incredibly unnecessary. He'd have gotten up and taken control, gotten some answers about their whereabouts, tried to find a way out, if not for the one non-civilian sharing the space with him.

SPARTAN. No question about it, it's not like those guys were exactly hard to pick out, what with being two heads taller than everyone else. The guy's very presence makes him nervous, the SPARTAN reputation being something you come across very often in the UNSC, and then there's the vague recognition that whoever captured him,

[blackfour]

Don't you get sassy with him, little missy.

From under his helmet, Four's mouth twitches up at the corner, shoulders lax, arm stiff as the other man drags himself to his feet. He doesn't return that little hand squeeze of his, mostly because he doesn't trust himself not to accidentally break those itty bitty fragile toothpicks that Wash likes to call his fingers. There's difficult situations, and then there's difficult people, and Four can already tell that Wash falls right into the middle of that last category

[freelancerpower]

Wash can be one of the most difficult people around, or he can be perfectly helpful -- it tends to depend on who you are, on what he needs, where he is. He still needs to figure out something, an angle, an approach, how he's going to handle a goddamn SPARTAN without risking himself risking everything and giving too much away.

So, really, he shouldn't be trying to test his limits. He should be playing along like a good little soldier, like someone who has everything to lose from this and really ought to be more careful, like someone who wouldn't be able to do anything if Four decides to reach over and snap his neck, and staring up at the man fucking towering above him really hammers that last point home

[blackfour]

Well, excuuuuuse him, princess. He's not exactly thrilled about randomly being chucked here with your sorry, strange ass, either. It's definitely not the idea of a break he'd had in mind after coming off that entire mess of a mission that'd landed him with Iona in the first place.

And when Wash leans back, his weight supported by the wall behind him, Four doesn't move forward to match him. But he does reach out, his fingers closing around his shoulder, palm relaxed against the cool plating of his armor. Because he gets what Wash is doing, really, he does, and he even understands why he might be doing it, but there's a clear gap in power balance here.

Four's not leaving him room for negotiation.

"It looks pretty bad." Four tips his head to the side, gesturing for Wash to turn so that he can see. "Let me take a look." Pats him once on the shoulder, good-naturedly. "It'll just take a second."