"Dear God, Wash, can you stop being so bossy?" he mocked, making sure to use the same tone, the same inflection, if not slightly more nasally. Not that he was complaining about the order, and not that he was committing insubordination of any kind; he wouldn't dream of it.

Or maybe he did, quite frequently, but fuck all if he was about this, now. Surging forward, he pressed his lips to Wash's, hard, kissing him with drunken fervor and the type of courage that could only be found at the bottom of a whiskey bottle and grief. His tongue slid forward, trying to taste inside, grateful for how free his hands were to explore.

Not that there was much to explore because fuck all that armor.

He pulled away, and Wash said that. Tucker might have bitched about Should I put you in a maid's outfit before you start cleaning shit? Fucking drop it on the floor! but he was talking about armor, too. Armor. Holy shit, this was gonna happen, wasn't it? This was a thing, this was a thing and it was happening, and--

"'Some' or 'all'?" Tucker asked, scooting back. "You know, you shouldn't be out bossing around a captain, Wash. Especially a captain in his own room. It's gotta have some punishment attached to it, and if not, I sure as hell can think of some. You know, like the sexy kind?" He waited for the other man to get rid of the bottles, before he moved back up close to him.

"You know I can help you with that, right?" His voice was low, slow. "Unless you want to make this into a sexy strip tease for me."