57. We could get struck by lightning, but you want to kiss in the rain.
Pairing: #YOLO, let’s see where this drabble takes us ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ
“It’s called romance, Wash.”
“It’s called dumb,” he interjected, “and cold.” Wash shivered, rubbing his arms as the dampness began to settle into his bones as a light downpour continued to cover the entire camp.
The other man sighed, “alright fine, never mind. Let’s just go back inside, see how fast Grif can eat twenty rice-cakes while Tucker times him, or something, that’s fun too.”
Wash almost let him go, but let out a halting sigh, grabbing their wrist, and turning them back to face him. “No, no. We could be struck by lightning, but you want to kiss the rain. So… alright, romance, or whatever.”
A happy blush came across the younger man’s cheeks. Wash had to admit, despite everything, pink suited him- or rather, light-ish red, did.