An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
(Preview beneath the cut)
York snorts at the scene which greets them when they catch up- Wash is drooling facedown on Maine’s shoulder beneath the shade of their colorful stolen canopy, casted arm resting on the man’s broad chest away from gritty sand.
North scrubs his hair roughly with a towel before tossing it over the bottom half of Wash’s legs, protecting his exposed feet where he sprawls napping. “He been asleep very long?”
Maine grunts, eyes not straying from the glow of his mobile where he reads, running light fingertips up and down Wash’s back.
“Good he’s resting at least, docs gave him some good shit before we left for the bruised lungs.”
Carolina squints at North as they near, “Why do you know that?”
North glances deliberately at the way York’s arm is wrapped around Carolina’s waist- at the way she kinda leans into it. “I asked so I could make sure he didn’t forget any meds while we’re down here,” he admits, running a hand along the back of his neck.
“Mama bear,” Maine mumbles.
“He did forget them, for the record,” North points out defensively, arm dropping.
York rolls his eyes, “Jesus Christ, this kid.”
“Anyway I’m taking a page outta his book and taking a nap. Mind if I steal some of your shade?” Maine flicks his eyes at North as the man flops into the remaining sliver of shade their tattered umbrella provides, throwing an arm over his eyes, “you two get lost. I’m tired of third wheeling.”
“Hey!” Carolina and York protest at the same time, York’s arm only wrapping closer around Carolina despite his objection.
She scrunches her nose with a glare, blaming the warmth in her ears on a developing sunburn instead of the jab, “you’re just as much of a third wheel here as with us.”
“I want zero part of what you guys are gonna do next, trust me. I’m sticking with these guys,” North gripes, good-naturedly patting Maine’s shoulder.
Wash sniffs around a snore and presses his cheek deeper into Maine’s other shoulder, who raises an eyebrow at them.
“Alright, I can read a room,” York laughs, “C’mon ‘Lina, let’s get lost.”
