recovery one.

        he’s her latest fascination   —   a pure one, this time. everyone’s pointed out the way he unravels for her and oh, does that very thought makes her melt. 

                ❝   so,   ❞   she purrs, smiling in a way that could so easily make him feel like he was the only man in the world.   ❝   what’s a girl gotta do to convince you to let her take you out for some coffee ??   ❞   /   @agntwsh.

           it’s not very clear whether the corners of his lips turn up in a genuine smile or in sheepish embarrassment.      it’s RARE FORM for wash to find himself caught up in someone so quickly and so wholly, but what can he say?     SHE’S CHARMED HIM.

@agntwsh liked!

“This is a diplomatic solution.  May I sit at the table?”

it still could be the best day ever!          /          send.

@hoodiedblue

       on one hand, yes, wash is ACUTELY aware that he’s far and away, years, almost decades, now, away from the optimist he once was.    he’s watched friends die, he’s watched good men and good soldiers die - some by his own fucking hand.    he’s led the blue team, he’s led his own recoveries.   if he could deal with the biggest idiots in the galaxy for as long as he had,  he can withstand anything.

       he’s tolerated max for a whole year now.     (how david deals with this kid is beyond him)    he knows the DISGUST extreme cheerfulness + optimism can evoke in others, especially when they don’t share that same worldview.    bitterness, apathy, those are poisons, and they’ll consume a person.    he knows this firsthand, and he hates himself for it.   for the asshole he’d used to be.     (a voice in the back of his mind reminds him, yes, max is a CHILD. but so is that little guy. and david may let that shit slide, but he wasn’t coach wash for nothing.)

HI YES I WOULD LIKE TO SUE SUN FOR EMOTIONAL DISTRESS

it still could be the best day ever!          /          send.

@playsunfair

       huh.     he didn’t expect to get a letter.     he didn’t even know he could GET a letter, a transmission, anything, up here.    let alone that he would.     david - wait, no, it’s washington now.   gotta get that through his head.    he takes a few minutes out from his allotted chance to sleep - a decision he’ll sorely regret in a few hours.      who the HELL could be sending him letters?      he has no family,   not as far as they were concerned.   no sister, no brother, his mother declared the youngest son dead seven years ago.  aren’t those usually the ones who send letters to their sons overseas?    or, uh.    out in space?

       he lights up, however, the moment he recognizes the name on the envelope.  of course.    no one else in the twenty - sixth century sends snail mail but her.   (it looks like it’s been redirected.   no way in hell she knows he’s a FREELANCER.)     tired eyes hungrily sift through the letter, and he’d be lying if he said his reading comprehension wasn’t a bit shot at the moment.     his arms were sore, his legs ached, his chest was burning  (his lungs inside, and the scars outside) and it was taking all of his willpower not to just crumple as he was, sitting up.    (eyelids felt heavy, but the tales from home + of amelie’s college experiences made wash feel damn near weightless.)    the tiniest of smiles graced his lips, and an airy laugh threatens to escape.

        eyes finally sweep across the closing line,    I GUESS I MISS YOU.     the handwriting is unmistakable, + the emotion behind the snarky ending shines through.    it’s almost as if he can hear her laugh, and he can easily picture her hands sign the words.    I GUESS. 

        it’s not that wash isn’t making friends in the freelancer project. he’s got some,   there’s CT. north, york, south, he thinks. the triplets are pretty neat - amelie’d get along with them.   but he does have a little hole in his heart since his enlistment.  he’d had friends in high school, sure, but amelie was probably the first, and the only, person he’d ever been able to consider a best friend.     it’s hard not to miss someone who you were attached to at the hip for years, and as much as wash is making steps to harden himself, and (barely, but he’s getting there) block out all those weak points in his past, this letter just opened the floodgates right back up.

       he folds the letter back up, and puts it off to the side.      he’ll have to put that in his locker after he wakes up.    but that letter echoes in his head, even while he tries to fall asleep, + he can’t shake the feeling that, y’know.    maybe he should find a chance  (+ a way) to write back to her.

                        so.

      ❛ had to improvise a bit at the end.     but you got me started. ❜