[ part of wash isn't actually expecting maine to listen, much less comply with his request.
he's pleasantly surprised when he moves (and with a terrifying amount of grace for a man of his size; wash has no idea how he carries himself so fluidly). maine stands above him and casts a shadow that dots out the fluorescent ceiling lights, and wash looks up at him, silent, considering.
that could be the end of things, too, with wash saying nothing and turning away and maine eventually walking off to finish his diagnostics. wash isn't that much of a coward, though, even if he'd like to be, and for once he's not nervous, just restless and tired of his own bullshit and thinking instead of doing because shit, david, you'll never get anywhere in life this way.
maine asks what in arched brows and silent stares, and wash answers with the flicker of one hand up his thigh. he traces the hard lines of plating up to his hip until he can dig his fingers under the blunt edge of his breastplate and urge him down, and if he goes, to scrape his teeth across his throat.
an unneeded apology, maybe, and a piss-poor place and time to be digging up weeks old history. wash never claimed to be good at this shit. ]
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he's pleasantly surprised when he moves (and with a terrifying amount of grace for a man of his size; wash has no idea how he carries himself so fluidly). maine stands above him and casts a shadow that dots out the fluorescent ceiling lights, and wash looks up at him, silent, considering.
that could be the end of things, too, with wash saying nothing and turning away and maine eventually walking off to finish his diagnostics. wash isn't that much of a coward, though, even if he'd like to be, and for once he's not nervous, just restless and tired of his own bullshit and thinking instead of doing because shit, david, you'll never get anywhere in life this way.
maine asks what in arched brows and silent stares, and wash answers with the flicker of one hand up his thigh. he traces the hard lines of plating up to his hip until he can dig his fingers under the blunt edge of his breastplate and urge him down, and if he goes, to scrape his teeth across his throat.
an unneeded apology, maybe, and a piss-poor place and time to be digging up weeks old history. wash never claimed to be good at this shit. ]