gunsforhire | Log: takeout appreciation night

Who: Agent Washington and Oquirrh
What: A date and some reveals
Where: Washington's old apartment, now a safehouse
When: Saturday evening, 5/30
Warnings: Secrets have been kept. Potential language or temper tantrums

Out of all the things Wash has cleaned lately, cleaning the old apartment in preparation for Takeout Appreciation Night has been Wash's favorite. It was the biggest job by far, but once the roaches were swept away, dust eliminated, and furniture arranged, the apartment looked almost cozy, if slightly bare. He was never in it long enough to do full-scale interior decorating.

After the cleaning was done, Wash went to get the takeout. This time, it was quasi-Chinese: several paper cartons of noodles, stir fried vegetables, and teriyaki chicken. It wasn't the most creative of takeouts, but it was safe, and he knew the food was good. After all, who doesn't like takeout Chinese?

Now, he's waiting. The couch is set (after all, takeout should always be eaten on a couch), movies are selected if necessary, and he's all showered and dressed and ready to start. And oh, is he ready to start.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"A miracle worker? Me?" She adds two wontons to her plate. There, it's ready. "Nobody's ever called me that before. What kind of miracle have I done, exactly?"

"How is it?" she asks, watching his face after he eats the shrimp. "I thought curry would be a good bit of spice for tonight."

"You found cake at an Asian place. I've never found cake at an Asian place. And I've been living here for years."

It's a delayed reaction, but damn, there was definitely some spice in those shrimp. A lot of spice. Wash's face turns bright red but he's gonna be tough. He's a mercenary, dammit, he can handle some spicy shrimp. Resisting the urge to run and get a drink of water, he nods and replies, "It's good. Really good. Yeah."

"It's part of a restaurant chain. It was one of our--my favorites back in Armonia." She pushes back memories of dinner with Jersey and Louisiana.

She can't help but laugh at his expression. "You okay? Here, have some rice. I can never eat them plain." She pushes the carton toward him.

He scoops some rice onto his plate, then into his mouth. It helps the burning considerably. "Thanks," he says. "It'd take an esophagus of steel to eat these plain." Maybe Maine could do it. Maybe.

"You're telling me," she says. "J--I was tricked into eating one straight the first time. It's awful. But the flavor is worth it, thanks to the rice. Though I'm glad you got teriyaki chicken so I can alternate bites." She eats one of the shrimp now, enjoying the burn despite the sweat that it makes stand out on her forehead.

He wants to ask her who's name she's refusing to say, but she's said enough already. What if he doesn't want to know? Ignorance is bliss, but sometimes, ignorance is safety, too.

"They complement each other," he says, and gently dabs the sweat off her forehead. He's not going to let any gross forehead water make his lady uncomfortable tonight.

"Whoa that's hot," she says. "I don't think we could have done better if we'd planned it." She blushes at his touch but leans toward it. He's so thoughtful.

Wash laughs. "If we did plan it, I don't think it'd go nearly as smooth." He leans closer to her as well, until he's just close enough to give her a little kiss on the forehead. Which he does.

After all, he figures he should start out small. Make sure she's okay with it. That's what you're supposed to do, right? He doesn't want to scare her away.

"I guess we're just good at this," she says.

Her breath catches when he comes close. He kisses her forehead, and she can't stop the satisfied little sigh that escapes her. She wants to throw her arms around him, to hug him or possibly kiss those lips.

Instead, she intertwines her fingers with his and smiles up at him.

"I guess," he murmurs. "With you, it's just natural."

He smiles back and rubs his thumb against her fingers, gentle and slow. His smile is slightly sad, though. He's going to have to go soon--it's almost eight. But that's the last thing he wants to do right now.

"You have a way of bringing it out in me, too," she says. He looks so sad, though--oh, the time.

"We'd probably better eat. At the rate we're going, we'll have to save the cake until after your meeting."

He nods. "Right. Food. I mean, I bet a man could live off of one of those shrimps for days, they're probably magic or something." He puts some noodles, chicken, and even one more of those shrimps on his plate anyway. It's generally not a good idea to go to one of these base meetings hungry. You never know if you're going to have an appetite afterward.

"But then you would miss out on the noodles," she teases. She sits down with her plate. "And though I'm tempted to ask you to test that magic, I would rather keep you well-fed."

"Another day," he promises. "We'll conduct an experiment. It'll be very scientific. For the good of mankind, really." He takes a bite. The flavor isn't as strong or complex as the shrimp, but it's familiar, almost comforting. He needs that now. It's an effort to eat, chew, swallow right before your teammates are more than likely about to dump some more bad news on you.

"I like the sound of that," she says. "You know, if the magic of dynamite shrimp could keep everyone well-fed, you could just solve planet-wide hunger. You'd be a hero for discovering it.

"Though you're already a hero to me."

He blushes. A hero? He hasn't done anything yet. The closest thing she's seen to heroism was him bringing Roxy to the hospital, and that wasn't anything special--just the right thing to do. "You're the real hero tonight," he replies. "You've been very brave."

"Thanks," she whispers. "I'm trying to be." She picks at her rice for a moment. "I'm not used to people who are as genuinely helpful as you, Wash. Too many people want something in return. You--you're different. And between you and Louisiana, leaving was worth the risk."

He places his palm over her free hand. "And you're going to meet more. Your life is going to get better, I promise. Less cruel. And don't worry about Control." He's still smiling, but there's a darkly serious look in his eyes. "I won't let them touch you."

"I believe you," she says. "All of it."

And she does.

He nods, and rises. "Good. I don't want you to have to worry too much. Maybe even have a little bit of fun once in a while."

He drops his plate by the sink and pulls on his helmet. "I'll be back really soon. These things usually don't take too long."

"I wouldn't mind a little bit of fun," she says. "Especially with you."

"Don't rush. I'll be here when you get bet."

Log: takeout appreciation night

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