“What the hell is the point of starting something when we’re not going to finish it?” The blond man grumbled. Wash was surprisingly warm even through the full bodysuit.

He audibly signed in relief when the music went off because sorry, Tucker, you were never going to sell him on the virtues of Queen.

When the younger man moved to squirm around in his arms, he didn’t try and stop him and it was only after Tucker got more comfortable that Wash let his arms tighten around the younger man again.

This close, the Sim trooper could smell the curious combination of musk, cordite, gun oil and metal that made up the predominant top-notes of Wash’s scent. But underneath was the barest trace of the spicy smelling soup he liked to use in the shower and strangely enough, vanilla. Maybe it was his shampoo or the shaving cream he used but it wasn’t the sort of scent you would expect out of a hardened ex-spec opts agent.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” He murmured into the top of Tucker’s head as he own eyes started to drift shut. “I’d say that speaks of what I want. Now, go to sleep, Tucker. Tomorrow is going to be a long day too.”