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[unrecovered]

This is Washington. Leave a message.

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[goddamngrenades]

"...I really do miss all the good shit, don't I?" If he meant in general or what comes...after. He wasn't about to say. "Speak'n of. I kinda...got you a something. Three somethings."

[unrecovered]

"Depends on your definition of 'good shit,'" Wash shrugged, peeling off the undersuit with his back to York and pulling on a shirt and pants.

He paused. That could either be really good or give him a whole lot of grief. "What kind of things?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

[goddamngrenades]

"Belated gifts? Kinda missed a coupla years. More than I'd like. So. Gifts." He even boxed up the skateboard and wrapped it with a bow. It's a little uneven but, hey. It's the thought that counts.

[unrecovered]

Why was everyone around him feeling guilty about stuff that wasn't their fault? "It's fine. You know that, right?" He was starting to think that nobody did, and if that was the case, it was going to be a problem.

[goddamngrenades]

"I managed to get a bottle of rotgut and a new awful t-shirt to the twins each year after the project went under, so I owe you." He flicks his hands at the box. "Go on, open it."

[unrecovered]

That wasn't an answer; Wash knew it, and he was pretty sure York did too. On the other hand, arguing it in circles wasn't a great use of either of their time.

Plus, Wash was curious. He turned fully around, picked up the box (trying not to handle it as though it were something that would bite him - York's pranks were well known, after all) - and opened it to find a skateboard. He paused, expression softening. "You remembered."

[goddamngrenades]

"Reggie threw your locker at me when I crashed the MOI. Kinda hard not to notice." Easier to play it off as something that literally hit him in the head than to think about how much younger Wash looked in the moment. How much had he missed?

"Also, figured you'd need a replacement." The second gift wasn't wrapped, so Wash got a yellow rubber duck tossed at him, squeaker and all.

[unrecovered]

"Why am I not surprised?" The sarcasm wasn't quite there; the little warm spot that had settled in his chest when he opened the gift took the edge off.

Of course, that meant that he was entirely distracted when the rubber duck went flying, and he winced as it bounced off his forehead and hit the carpet with a sad squeak. "Thanks," he deadpanned.

[goddamngrenades]

The squeak was followed by a smaller, softer squeak. That didn't come from the duck but from the carefully wrapped bundle in York's lap. "This one I'm gonna need you to hold your hands out for. Nothing that'll bite, I promise."

Well it might but he was pretty sure it wouldn't.

[unrecovered]

Why did York have a squeaking thing. Why did he have something that sounded alive. He held out his hands, hoping this wouldn't come back to bite him, physically or otherwise. "Okay?"

[goddamngrenades]

It was a small bundle, something not entirely unlike a blanket that was warm and, when he set it in Wash's hands, moving just a little. There was another teeny, tiny squeak that may have sounded like a 'mew'. Then a little pink nose poked out from under the blanket.

[unrecovered]

For a moment, Wash just stared. No way. He couldn't have. He gingerly pulled back the top of the blanket to reveal a tiny calico kitten. It looked up at him and mewed again, a squeaky little sound, and his heart melted. For a moment he missed Melody so much it hurt-

But this was a different thing entirely. This was a kitten, and it was his. "Oh my God," he finally managed, voice quiet, "you got me a cat."

[goddamngrenades]

"I think when they're that small they're called kittens." There it was. There was the dopey, awe filled look he'd missed in the Rookie that was no longer a rookie. Didn't matter that it probably wouldn't be pointed at anyone in particular ever again, the Project beat that out of them and everything that came after...

But York considered his mission accomplished. "Happy belated birthday, buddy."

[unrecovered]

He could reply to York being a smartass, or he could pay attention to the kitten in his hands and grin like an idiot when it started kneading his palm. No contest, really. "Oh my God," he repeated, still quietly overwhelmed.

It was a few moments before practicality kicked in. "Does she have food? Does she have her shots? Is she- no, she's too small to be spayed yet." Wait. Hang on. "Where did you get her?"

[goddamngrenades]

It was a cute picture, Wash and the teeny thing he'd liberated for him. Of course the moment didn't last and the questions began. "Yes, yes, no, uh....couple of blocks from here? Commercial district."

It's a few tins of tuna but- that's cat food, right? Right. Also a tiny catbox with sand that had been with her when he picked her up.

[unrecovered]

"The commercial district?" Wash paused, raising an eyebrow. In his experience, that place was expensive. "Where did you get the money for that?"

The comments about how tuna was not cat food, let alone kitten food, would come later.

[goddamngrenades]

"...well-" He didn't really.


Buy.


The kitten.

Technically speaking.

[unrecovered]

Oh for fuck's sake. "Did you at least check to make sure nobody else was going to adopt her first?"

[goddamngrenades]

"Yep!" What was he, some kind of asshole?

[unrecovered]

Well, he had just stolen a kitten, so kind of, yeah.

"And you're sure."

[goddamngrenades]

"Absolutely positive!" He did do some recon on the cat before the job- the acquisition- GETTING her for Wash. Duh. "Got her some food and a small catbox and litter and a few toys to get you started."

Kibble is for kittens, right? Right.