Chapter Text
Wash wanted to scream.
He probably would have, too, if he and his team weren’t busy trying not to be found and, you know, killed.
“This is fucking ridiculous,” South muttered, “I can’t fucking believe this.”
Wash couldn’t either. The mission had started out great—they’d stolen data drives with blueprints for experimental tech that Project Freelancer wanted in on, and the place was stupidly low on security. They’d been dropped off by 479er, snuck into a nearly cliché farmhouse which—surprise, surprise—wasn’t actually a farmhouse at all. A hidden door in the barn led downwards into a bomb-proof bunker. Unfortunately for whoever they were essentially robbing, the bunker was not space-marine-proof. They’d gotten in, smashed stuff, grabbed the drives, and gotten out.
And of course, things had promptly gone to shit.
They’d been swarmed immediately by well-armed soldiers who, unlike the security guards in the bunker, actually knew what they were doing. The icing on the cake? The Director had insisted on a plainclothes stealth mission. None of them were wearing armor. Carolina had taken one look at the force they were up against and ordered a retreat. So there they were, hiding in a field of sunflowers on the outskirts of the stupid cliché farm, waiting for the soldiers to either get bored or look somewhere else.
York giggled. The man actually flat-out giggled.
Wash could barely see Carolina from his position crouching behind Maine, but he could tell she had turned around to look at the man. “York, what on Earth is so funny—you piece of shit.”
South guffawed, prompting Wash to peek out from behind Maine. York had a shit-eating grin on his face and was holding out a handful of sunflowers to Carolina. Wash snickered, despite his misery at the situation.
North’s voice crackled over the radio in their earpieces. “Whatever you just did, you got their attention. Hold still and stay down.”
Carolina sent a murderous glare at York, then at South. Without a word, she ripped the flowers out of York’s grasp. Wash expected her to toss them to the side, but was pleasantly surprised when she picked a small one out and tucked it into her braid before tossing the rest over her shoulder. They flopped straight into Maine’s face. South bit her knuckles to keep from laughing. Wash couldn’t see the big guy’s face, but he could picture the flat expression.
“Oh, they are close,” North muttered to them, “don’t move.”
Wash could hear rustling in the field to his right. The rustling grew closer until a pair of boots came into view. He held his breath as they grew even closer. The boots paused about five feet away from him, turned, and continued on in the other direction. Wash let out his breath as quietly as he could. That had been a close call.
Maine sniffled. The boots stopped.
Wash looked up at the big guy questioningly. He had a funny expression on his face, his eyes and nose scrunched, almost like he had to take a shit. The sunflowers were still in his lap, and his face was comically close to them with how he was crouched. Wash’s eyes widened. Oh, no.
Maine took a deep breath in, held it for a second, and sneezed thunderously. Carolina startled a good two feet from her position. The sunflowers rustled. Birds flew from the nearby trees.
Every soldier within a fifty-foot radius swarmed in their direction.
“RUN!” Carolina shouted. York swore colorfully as the five of them charged through the fields in the opposite direction of the way they came. Bullets sprayed the sunflowers around them.
North heaved a disappointed sigh. “If you keep your heads down and spread out, you might actually survive this.”
Wash snickered as Maine attempted to fold himself practically in half, running with his waist bent almost ninety degrees. He could barely contain his laughter at the sight. He heard South cackling madly somewhere on Maine’s other side, meaning she had seen him, too. Wash burst out of the field, running faster now that there were no leafy obstacles in his path. He could see Niner’s pelican, maybe a quarter mile from their position. Carolina, unsurprisingly, was a good twenty feet in front of him. York and South were nearly side-by-side between him and Carolina, and while Maine lagged behind, the larger man was quickly picking up speed now that he could straighten up. Wash ran faster than he’d probably ever run in his life, unhindered by his heavy power armor.
He was thirty feet from the pelican when a spray of bullets showered the ground around them. He gritted his teeth and zig-zagged as best he could. Then Carolina was in the pelican, and then York, and South, and—Wash jumped, stumbled the landing, and crashed to the ground inside the pelican. He pushed himself across the floor, grabbed hold of one of the seats, and held on for dear life as Maine ran into the pelican behind him. With a sickening lurch, Niner launched the pelican into the air. Wash clung to the bottom of the seat until an eternity later when the pelican cleared the atmosphere and slowed down.
Wash pulled himself up, noting that Maine and York were pulling themselves out of similar positions on the other side of the pelican. South had apparently been buckled in by her brother. Carolina must have run up front into the cockpit. He sat down and turned to Maine. “Of all the people to have allergies, it had to be you.”
York and South burst out laughing. Maine just looked guilty.
North shook his head. “What the hell happened out there? One minute you were fine, the next every soldier in the field was chasing you.”
Carolina emerged from the cockpit and leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. She had an amused smirk on her face. “I’m willing to take partial blame,” she offered, “but York started it.”
York protested, much to everyone’s amusement. “I gave you flowers! It was romantic!”
Carolina reached back and touched the sunflower still in her hair with a fond smile. “And I threw them into Maine’s face, accidently.”
Wash doubled over laughing at the sheepish look on Maine’s face. South had tears streaming down her face and both arms wrapped around her stomach as she howled with laughter.
“Big guy sneezed,” York got out between peals of laughter, “like a goddamn cannon. Everyone for a mile heard it and came running.” North broke down laughing, too.
“You should have seen him running,” South wheezed, “he looked like a broken barbie doll, bent at the waist trying to keep his head down.”
Wash wiped tears from his eyes. “But he was still running! I don’t know how he ran with his body bent ninety degrees.”
Carolina burst into laughter. “I didn’t see that!”
South slapped her knee. “I only saw a bit of it before I passed him. He was so fucking slow I thought we’d lose him.”
Wash leaned against the back of his seat, completely helpless with the force of his laughter. The six of them gradually calmed down enough to breathe normally. North passed around water bottles and a box of energy bars. The trip was smooth enough that they played cards until they touched down in the hangar of the MoI.
Director was waiting for them when they got out. “What happened out there?” He asked.
Carolina frowned. “We got the data just fine, but got swarmed on the way out. No injuries. Miraculously.”
The Director studied them, obviously taking in their disheveled appearances. Carolina still had the flower in her hair. York had leaves in his hair. Wash had a bruise on his face from where he’d slammed into the pelican’s floor. Maine had a fine dusting of pollen on his shirt. “What happened out there?” He finally asked.
“Maine sneezed, sir,” Wash deadpanned. His declaration set off a round of snickers.
The Director narrowed his eyes. “Funny. What really happened?”
Carolina shrugged. “We hid in a field of flowers. Maine sneezed.”
Wash struggled to keep a straight face as the Director stared blankly at them all. Well over a minute of silence passed before the Director slowly closed his eyes and sighed heavily. “You are all dismissed,” he said wearily. Wash and the others saluted crisply before heading off in the direction of the showers.
They barely lasted until they rounded the corner before dissolving into helpless laughter. Wash struggled to stay upright, leaning on North for support.
“We have to tell Connie,” South wheezed out, “she might be able to get into the logs from the mission. The sneeze might have been recorded.”
She ran with renewed energy towards the showers, still giggling. Wash wiped tears from his eyes and followed his friends. There was no way he was going to miss this.