[ Wash had adjusted with time-- years and years on fucking years, and that idea alone scares him beyond all reason. He doesn't want to end up like this for years. He can't imagine waking up and going to bed feeling like his head is swimming and empty and wrong.
Both of their hands ease over him, and York curls an arm around her waist, pressing his face into her chest, curling his arm around Wash's waist too, just hugging them for a long moment, fisting his hand in Wash's shirt. ]
I'm not going anywhere, but I-- Jesus, I can't keep my head straight half the time.
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Both of their hands ease over him, and York curls an arm around her waist, pressing his face into her chest, curling his arm around Wash's waist too, just hugging them for a long moment, fisting his hand in Wash's shirt. ]
I'm not going anywhere, but I-- Jesus, I can't keep my head straight half the time.