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All agents of Project Freelancer are supposed to give regular reports on their AI's behaviour.
The thing is, none of them actually tell the truth.
It's not like they're actively lying, really, it's just... omission of certain facts. Like Delta and Theta talking on a regular basis even though it's forbidden, or how Theta has weird nightmares that bleed into North's own dreams. Or Gamma's slightly worrying skills at cheating in poker, or Sigma being banned from movie night because he keeps popping up, asking what they're watching, and casually spoiling the end for everyone.
Though, okay, the last one isn't actually anything to tattle about, but Sigma is still unnecessarily douchey and York can't believe Dumbledore fucking died.
Still, it's one thing to have AIs poking at limits and pushing rules to see if they'll bend, and then there's Delta asking York how you can tell when you're in love.
York possibly stabs himself with the lock picks he's practicing with. "You-- What?"
"Nevermind," says Delta immediately, hologram blinking out, and York can practically feel him pulling up a mental drawbridge and shutting himself inside a tower of embarrassment and wounded pride. York can't physically stop him because he isn't there, but after all these months he's learned prodding at his consciousness works just as well, and his quiet hiss of "Delta!" does the trick.
The bridge stays half shut, but he can feel his AI humming at the back of their shared awareness, reluctantly waiting.
Whatever's got Delta's knickers in a twist, they're gonna have to solve it the hard way, it seems.
York sighs. "Okay, first thing? I do not want to lose another part of my body; give the guy with the sharp metal sticks a bit of a warning next time," he says, a sternness he doesn't feel lacing his tone.
Delta takes the bait, though, and replies in a surly voice, 'I requested to make an inquiry. You said yes.'
"That usually just means you're gonna start pointing out all the ways I'm doing my job wrong," York says dryly. Delta can't roll his eyes -- he doesn't have them, for one -- but York feels the familiar ripple of... something, most likely energy, that he's learned to identify as Delta silently sassing him inside his own brain. "Now, what was that about being in love, of all things?"
Delta sighs too, hologram lighting up again in front of York. It's progress.
"I was curious. There's a lot of information on the extranet about romantic attraction and how it affects individuals, but it is contradictory to itself at best and I don't understand most of it."
York's mouth quirks up slightly. The way D says it, you'd think the stuff was planted just to make him confused. "So am I the love expert, or is it feelings in general?"
"Neither, exactly. I considered asking agent North, but with the recent developments in mind..."
"Right." York nods a bit too quickly, very clearly not thinking about elephants, or whatever the line from that movie was. "Next time, just let me believe it's because you trust my judgement, yeah?"
"I do," Delta says, frown clear in his voice, and York shifts the lock picks in his hand to rub at the back of his neck. "Your judgement is not in doubt, but your reactions can leave something to be desired at times."
York raises an eyebrow. "How so?"
"I asked about love and you managed stab your own hand with the equivalent of a knitting needle."
"They're not-- You and Wash together are the worst thing ever,” York grumbles. “He's corrupting my AI just because he's bored without one of his own.”
"Agent Washington is not corrupting me," Delta sniffs haughtily. "I'm still functioning at optimal capacity, and he's never given any sign of desiring my company merely out of a lack of options."
York rolls his eyes. "Yeah, okay, you're totally the best of bros, I'll make sure to invite him to a sleepover sometime. Let's just get back to the actual question. What did you want to know?"
"Chronologically, or by relevance?," Delta asks, but York just smiles, recognising it as one of Delta's attempts at humour. After a moment, Delta says, "I suppose the first question would be what love feels like."
It doesn't sound like a question, but then again, York isn't used to Delta sounding so careful either. He probably has himself to blame for Delta's newfound uncertainty -- and maybe as well for the curiosity -- so he decides to make up for it by answering as best as possible.
Not that he wasn't gonna do it anyway, but still.
"Well," York says slowly, weighing the words in his head, "It's sort of... a mix of things, really. Whatever -- or whoever -- you love makes you very, very happy. Just the thought of them cheers you up. You can get pretty protective over them, and want to be around them all the time, and make sure they're safe, but I guess it's mostly about them lifting you up, and wanting to do the same for them. Enjoying their company and hoping they'll feel the same about you."
"Hm." Delta doesn't say anything else for a moment, and his mind doesn't give him any clues, so York waits it out and lets him mull over it in silence. "And lust?"
Okay, bit of a weird one to be discussing with his AI, but not entirely unexpected. "Lot simpler than love. It's pretty much just about physical urges, but it can be mixed with romantic feelings and that's... another thing entirely."
"How so?," Delta asks, head tilted.
York can't keep his mouth from curving into a small grin. "Well, loving someone and having them love you back is pretty awesome, but if you add a... physical factor, let's say, it can be very fun as well. Lots of endorphins for all involved, if you're doing it right." He's still not thinking about elephants, either red-haired or blond ones. Nope.
Then Delta asks quietly, "And what if they don't?"
York frowns. "If they don't want you back?" He gets a single nod from Delta, and York exhales deep, thinking it through. It's not that he's bad with words, exactly, he's just always been better at feeling things and turning them into actions rather than explaining them to someone else. "Honestly? It fucking sucks. And it keeps on sucking until you're too hurt to care any longer or you manage to move on. Some people never do, because once you've fallen for someone, and I mean full-out, never-ending-emotional-rollercoaster falling in love, it's really hard to forget how it feels. The good times are fantastic, but if they don't last, or if you lose them, well." He smiles ruefully at Delta. "There's a reason so many songs are about heartbreak."
"I see," Delta says after a long moment. "I think I've heard enough for now."
York tilts his head to peer at his AI, unconsciously mimicking Delta's posture as he tries to assess his mood. D's a fast learner, but he figures it's a lot to take in when you don't have that much of a frame of reference. "You sure?"
"I am," Delta replies, voice a little softer than usual. Then he adds, before logging out again, "Thank you, York."
York turns back to the lock in his hands -- no blood or snapped lock picks, thankfully -- and half-smiles at empty air, knowing Delta will feel it anyway. "No problem, buddy."
York doesn't expect that to be the end of it, not really. As much as they like to tease and grumble about each other, he and Delta are pretty much the same in a lot of things -- especially when it comes to stubbornness.
It's a good while past midnight by the time he gets back to his room after movie night with Carolina and North, contentment and sleepiness making everything pleasantly hazy, and he's changing into a pair of sweats and his faded Grifball shirt when Delta comes up.
He doesn't say anything for a bit, long enough that York actually throws the shirt over his shoulder to look at him. "D?"
"I have another question," Delta says finally.
York nods, holding back a slight grin. Totally called it. "And that'd be...?"
"How can you tell when someone loves you?"
York lets out a short laugh, because it figures Delta would go for the hard questions when York's halfway to passing out. Then again, York did use to do the same to his mother when he was younger -- though, okay, probably not the best comparison, because Delta isn't fourteen years old and asking about an old set of dogtags inside a box in the attic. Focus, York. "That one's gonna need some coffee first, I don't think I'm awake enough to answer that as it is." He wiggles into his shirt, grateful that he'd decided to put on socks first, and rubs his eyes before gesturing unnecessarily towards the door. "C'mon, let's go to the kitchen. We can eat one of those cookies South made last night."
"I always did want to feel my agent being poisoned," Delta deadpans, but it lacks the usual extra bitchiness that comes with him talking about South Dakota. He must've been thinking about this one longer than York figured.
"Mhm. So what did the 'net say about this one? Were there Cosmo articles?," York asks through a yawn as they make their way to the kitchen. No need for elevators, thankfully -- FILSS gets funny with her music choices after midnight.
"There were, but the consensus on other sites was that they didn't present anything of use," Delta says, and York rubs the back of his neck to rid himself of the faint numbness that passes for Delta frowning. "Do you disagree?"
"Joke, D," York yawns again. The kitchen is empty, but the lights activate as soon as York steps through the door, thankfully a little dimmer than usual due to the late hour. There's half a pot of coffee slowly cooling by the counter, two clean mugs upside down on the sink. Still a little wet, both black and white with nebula patterns -- South and Tex must've left less than an hour ago.
He helps himself to a mug of his own, sets the machine to make another pot -- rule number whatever of the unofficial Freelancer handbook: always make sure there's coffee waiting in the kitchen -- and takes a long sip of lovely, lovely caffeine before hoisting himself onto the edge of the counter.
"Alright, so... how to tell if Bobby from French class totally likes-likes you." He sips at his coffee again, feeling his brain kickstart again as the chemicals hit his system. Delta waits patiently in front of him. "How do you know Theta cares for you?"
The 'frowny' feeling appears again, but York resists running a hand over the back of his neck and watches Delta.
"We are brothers," Delta says, like that actually answers the question, or he thinks York is being deliberately confusing. Knowing him, it's probably a bit of both.
"So were Montana and Arkansas, and look how that ended up," York points out, raising an eyebrow at Delta over his mug. Murder and mayhem, and Niner only stopped bitching about her lost Pelican after the Director got her an upgraded model. "And Theta never asks to talk to Sigma or Gamma."
Delta nods, and York can feel him thinking it over carefully. "That would be correct. I suppose that's why I know he cares for me. He asks for my company and his behaviour suggests that he enjoys the time we spend together, and that he holds my opinion to a certain value."
York smiles, half wishing he could give his AI some sort of Boy Scout badge. 'Correctly Identifying Positive Feelings', or something like that. "Exactly. Love isn't exactly easy to hide, not when it's the real deal. You notice it in the way people act around you."
"You didn't, though." Delta points out. "Not immediately."
York rolls his eyes, but he can't keep the fondness from sneaking into his tone. "Yeah, well, like I said, sometimes people are silly and try to pretend their feelings aren't there. Hence the whole clusterfuck from the past few months."
"I'm sure agent North will be happy to hear your opinion on his actions."
"Oh, he knows," York grins. "Carolina was very clear with him."
With that helmet passing for his face Delta can't smile, either, but his amusement feels like electricity, a cool rush spreading over York's shoulders like a mantle. "Agent Carolina does excel at getting her opinions across."
York shakes his head, still smiling. "That she does. Anything else you're curious about?"
"No, I'm okay for now," Delta says, shaking his head and practically buzzing inside York's own.
"Y'know, D, with acting skills like those you could probably deceive Theta," York tells him pleasantly. "If he was half asleep and had suddenly lost all processing power."
Delta sighs, something York can't quite identify -- frustration, maybe? -- radiating from him like a tiny sun, but he doesn't actually deny he was lying by omission. "There are several more subjects, but I would... appreciate it, if I had some time to consider them on my own before asking any further questions."
Back off. Not exactly a message York's used to getting from Delta, and it hurts, if only a little. Whatever's brought this on has Delta more wound up than York originally imagined, though, and even if the AI is the one who's taken up residence in York's head, he doesn't actually want to push him enough to make him uncomfortable. Delta doesn't trust easily, and if he really wants space, York can't do anything but try to give it to him.
"Alright," he says easily, leaning back against the kitchen wall and tipping his mug at Delta. "No deadlines here, D. Take your time."
Delta's only reply is a small, silent nod, but the way York feels him immediately relaxing is thanks enough for him.
York promised Delta space, and he doesn't back out on his word. It doesn't mean, however, that he can't pay a little more attention than before.
It's not that he doesn't trust Delta, but the AI is the super-advanced computer program equivalent of a homeschooled bubble child going away to college, and actually having to confront the real word for the first time. Knowledgeable and intelligent, but not street-smart at all.
Delta learns fast, but like hell York isn't gonna try to keep him from hurting himself in the process. So he keeps to his routine and doesn't push, figures that D will come ask him about whatever-it-is in his own time, and in the meantime he watches and listens a little more carefully than before.
One of York's favourite things about Delta is that for all that he's allegedly all logical and doesn't feel emotions as intensely as some other fragments -- the Counselor's words, not York's, and frankly York's got a couple of ideas as to where he can stick that assessment -- Delta is also like a tiny, green, perpetually armed social butterfly.
He doesn't get along with everyone, but it's a near thing. He dislikes South to a hilarious extent, most likely because she's one of the few with the capacity to out-snark him, and the temper to actually do it if he pisses her off. Trying to get him anywhere near Maine will result in uncomfortable times for everyone thanks to Sigma, Emperor of Creep -- South's words, not his, and York thinks that was about the only time Delta agreed with South Dakota, though he was probably too disgruntled to realise he did -- but other than a few exceptions he seems to enjoy mostly everyone's company.
They're still, in the most technical sense, not allowed to let the AIs interact with each other, but Theta took to Delta almost as much as he did to North, and York dares anyone with the tiniest bit of feelings to refuse North's AI anything he asks with his kicked puppy voice.
Theta could very well download anything he wants to know about skateboarding from the extranet, but since Wash was the reason he found out about it at all, he's apparently also the best choice when it comes to learning. There's a joke at the tip of York’s tongue about Wash seeming like a good teacher because he’s as much of a dork as Theta, but Theta can only take so much teasing before becoming upset, and York does not want to be the asshole that pushes him across the line. He knows he can play sort of rough sometimes, but he's not actually heartless.
(Plus, North would most likely kill him with his bare hands, and then Carolina would bring him back to life to kick his ass again for making the baby AI cry. Delta, as the proverbial protective older brother that he turned out to be, would probably offer her pointers.)
This is how York finds himself spending a perfectly good evening watching Wash skate up and down a hallway on the board everyone in the team has slowly helped cover with stickers. North is sitting within projection range with crossed arms and an encouraging smile, while Theta nods a lot and attempts not to fall on his tiny purple butt. York doesn't actually have to be there, but Theta does seem more confident whenever Delta is around, and York is sort of a sucker for anything that'll make big eyes at him -- or the vocal equivalent of it, in this case -- so he goes and plays cheerleader, and possibly takes pictures to show to Carolina later.
(It's not that she doesn't want to come, but there's only so much blatant rule-breaking she can stand before feeling like she is lying to the Director. Delta and Theta would probably wither and die if they were actually kept apart from each other, so she looks the other way, and they all pretend they don't see her eyes go the tiniest bit soft and happy when they show her vids of Theta going 'nyoom' on a holographic skateboard.)
He blames Theta's cuteness, Wash's admittedly awesome skateboarding skills and North's shoulder being really comfortable for how long it takes him to realise, but once he does it hits him like a ton of bricks -- Delta isn't looking at Theta. He's been watching Wash and quietly radiating happiness into York's system for the past forty minutes, and now that York's thinking about it, he can't remember a single day for the past few weeks that Delta hasn't found one reason or another for them to spend time with Wash if they weren't going to already and-- holy shit.
York's AI has the dokis for fucking Washington.
He's saved from anyone else seeing his expression by the fact that his face is half-hidden behind North's shoulder, but his eyes widen just the slightest bit, and of course, Delta notices.
Inside their shared awareness, D's voice rings like a gunshot. 'Don't say anything!'
York glares -- maybe also gapes a little, but mostly it’s just the glaring -- then pretends to look at his phone.
'York--'
"Aw, shit," York says out loud, sounding oh-so-frustrated.
"What's wrong?," North asks, tearing himself from the Skating Baby AI Show to look at York in concern. "Emergency mission?"
'This is entirely unnecessary!'
"Nah, just the Counselor. I had to ditch my last appointment to go on a mission with Con-- with CT, and I forgot he'd rescheduled me for today," he sighs, dread colouring his tone as he stands up and pockets his phone.
He can tell from North's face that he doesn't entirely believe him -- even York will admit he's a pretty shitty liar -- but if there's one thing the Project teaches you, it's not to poke too hard at your teammates' inevitable moments of weirdness.
In South's words, it's not like they're not all scary, crazy motherfuckers. The AIs just make it harder to hide.
Delta is still blasting horror and alarm at York in some sort of emotional chicken flail, for all that he outwardly seems as composed as always.
North smiles at him, a flash of white teeth when York nuzzles his cheek in farewell. "Alright, good luck with that, then."
Delta blinks out in a tiny burst of green, embarrassed and fuming. 'I do not want to talk about it.'
York smiles regretfully back at North. "Yeah, thanks. I'm definitely gonna need it."
Theta is sad to see them go, and Wash is surprised that York didn't bitch about his supposed appointment from the moment it was rescheduled, but even Theta finds the Counselor unnerving and Wash is still green enough that he finds avoidance of psych evals unacceptable, so they manage to get to York's room without any sort of external hassle.
Delta, however, has locked himself in his metaphorical tower, and is throwing rocks at York's head from the window.
'You cannot make me.'
"Delta, come on--"
'That expression makes no actual sense, I do not occupy any physical space, therefore I cannot 'go'--'
"Your grammatical high horse is not welcome in this room. Now, will you please show your face so I can stop talking at empty air like a crazy person?," York asks with a sigh.
Delta flickers into existence in front of York, looking sullenly at the floor. "I did not ask for this."
He sounds about as tired as York suddenly feels, but York figures it's progress, sort of. At least he's not shutting him out anymore. "I know you didn't, buddy. Wanna explain it to me, please?"
What he can feel of Delta's emotions -- which is basically everything -- is akin to a giant neon ‘fuck no’ sign, but after a long, long moment, Delta admits, "I do not really understand it myself."
York snorts, because hell if that doesn't apply to anyone who's ever been in love. "Okay. How about you tell me what you can and we try to make sense of it together? Two heads are better than one, and all that."
Delta nods, his panic levelling down once he realises York isn't going to do... whatever it was that had him halfway to terrified. York feels a little hurt by the lack of trust, but he figures he can cut Delta some slack, since this is most likely the weirdest situation the AI's ever gone through.
Plus, it's not like York doesn't know love makes you pretty stupid.
"Alright, let's start at the beginning. How long has this been going on?," York asks, sitting cross-legged on his bed.
Delta follows, perches himself -- so to speak -- on the end of the bed. "Three and a half months, approximately. I tried to review my memory files for a more accurate timestamp, but it was... difficult to narrow down."
"It usually is," York agrees. "I'm guessing that's why all the questions about love and stuff?"
Mortification tinges Delta's presence in York's head, tingling cold. "I... yes. I had hoped I was being subtle."
"Hey, don't worry, it wasn't obvious if that's what you're worried about." Delta stares at York, clearly sceptical. "I'm serious. I was looking for it, so of course I eventually figured it out. Plus it still took me like three weeks to realise who it was."
Delta's embarrassment rockets up for a moment, but it's everything else behind it, half-hidden and barely restrained, that makes York's heart break just a little.
"You really have it bad, don't you?," York asks, and he meant it to be teasing, but it comes out gentle, and not a joke at all.
Delta's voice is quiet. "Yes. I suppose I do."
York still can't completely wrap his head around it, but in an odd way it makes sense. Wash was the first one to really become friends with Delta, and D always liked spending time with him, so it's not surprising. Unexpected, maybe, but not surprising if he really thinks about it. Had Delta been anyone else in the Project York wouldn't have batted an eye at finding the lines between feelings had blurred for either of them -- hell, he would've been glad for them, most likely.
Ah, what the heck.
"Alright then. How do you wanna do this?," he asks.
His AI looks at him like he just started speaking Tagalog. "I'm sorry?"
"Well, you're in love with Wash and he likes you well enough, so we'll just have to push him a bit in the right direction," York explains. "Easy peasy."
Delta stares. "York. I’m not human."
"Wait, so that's what it is about? And here I was thinking you didn't want Wash for his body," York deadpans.
“Of course I don’t!,” Delta exclaims, indignant.
"So you think he's that shallow, then?"
"No!"
"Then let's cross that objection off the list unless Wash is the one to use it," York replies calmly.
Under all of D's frustration, the hopelessness starts to waver, and after a moment he asks, "What about agent Connecticut?"
York raises an eyebrow. "What about her?"
"I assumed..."
Ah. "Yeah, we all did, at one point or another, but it's not like that. Connie doesn't bat for that team, as far as I know." South, on the other hand, probably knows all the specifics.
"Agent Maine?"
"Nope. And before you ask, I don't think anyone would willingly sleep with and/or date Florida or Wyoming, least of all Wash," York replies wryly. Delta goes quiet, his thoughts raging like a hurricane inside York's head, and he worries for a moment that maybe he pushed him too far.
Then, "What if he doesn't like me?," Delta asks, and he sounds very, very small.
York gives him a sympathetic look, wishing -- not for the first time, or for the last -- that he could just hug him. "It's gonna suck. But you'll still have me, if it counts for anything. And Theta, and Carolina and North. And yeah, there's always a chance that your feelings will be unrequited, but I can promise you Wash won't be an asshole about it if he doesn’t like you back. A little awkward, maybe, but that's just normal." Delta nods in silence, and York adds, "And if he does act like a dick, we'll just throw him out the nearest airlock."
"You will do no such thing," Delta warns him, but York can feel his mood shifting into something lighter already. He wonders how D managed to keep this to himself for so long, and hopes that this'll lift some of the weight off his shoulders, at least. Meanwhile, Delta sits down at the end of the bed, a tiny mirror of York's posture, and looks up at him to ask, "Do you really think there is any chance?"
York shrugs one shoulder, but smiles. "Stranger things have happened. Wash already likes you, we just have to change the way he sees you."
"Ah." Delta tilts his head, his hologram shimmering for a moment, and then someone else's face is staring up at York, Delta's ever-present pistol replaced in his hands by the helmet he is no longer 'wearing'. "Would this suffice?"
York stares. He honestly can't help it, because of all the things Delta has done since he got the implant this is by far the most... computer-y of them. "Uh. Delta, whose face is that?"
Delta frowns. He frowns. He's still completely green, but he has eyebrows. "Mine. I mixed features I found agreeable and this was the result."
"Huh." York blinks, feeling like he ought to be less shocked about it; Sigma and Gamma don't wear armour, after all. Delta doesn't really look like them, though, and it takes a second for him to realise why his face seems familiar. "You look like me."
Delta looks away. "It seemed like a good idea."
York grins, and makes a valiant attempt not to drown in warm fuzzies. "It is, really. I'm just a little surprised, it's all." He leans forward to get a better look, and Delta bears the attention by distracting himself with his helmet. York thinks there are freckles across the bridge of Delta's nose, but it's hard to tell with only one fully working eye, and even though Delta's hair is shorter than his and brushed back rather than up, the lines of his face are definitely based on York's own. "Not that I'm bothered by it, mind you, but this isn't actually what I meant."
"Ah," Delta says again, sounding embarrassed. "I thought..."
"Well, just because I wasn't being literal it doesn't mean this won't help," York reassures him. "We just need to work out a strategy."
Delta tilts his head. "Is it usual to treat this sort of thing like a mission?"
"Uh, sort of." That was what he and Carolina had done, after all, and it had worked out pretty well. In the end, at least. "I can say it some other way if it bothers you."
"It does not. " Delta smiles, the expression familiar even though York has never seen it before -- he doesn't show any teeth but he has dimples -- and he grins back like a giddy four year old.
York might still be a little caught up on how fucking cool it is that his AI chose to look like him.
"Alright. So we could go for the obvious approach, but considering Wash's... Washness, I think it'd be best to play it a little more subtle," York explains. He loves Wash, but the kid's kind of a big ball of neuroses if you catch him on a bad day. "Test the waters a bit, and if he doesn't seem against it, we move on to bolder tactics."
"What would 'testing the waters' involve?," Delta asks, arms propped on his helmet so he can lean a little closer.
"Y'know, the usual stuff. Bit of flirting, innuendo if you're feeling brave, though maybe those would be a bit too much just now.” A beat, then, "Also, you're giving him a mixtape."
Delta blinks. "Mixtape?"
"Yeah, bit old school, but Wash is sort of a dork. He'll like it. Plus, you haven't lived 'til you've seen Wash dance." If you could even call it dancing. York smirks at Delta. "If your feelings survive that then you're definitely doomed."
Delta stares at him for a second -- just long enough for York to worry that maybe he went too far -- and then the little shit smirks right back. "I believe agent Washington's dancing would still be preferable to a Star Wars marathon."
York rolls his eyes, half-smiling. "Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want. I wouldn't be so cocky if I were you, we still have to do the scary part first."
Alarm flashes over Delta's face. "I thought you said--"
"Oh, no, we're not telling Wash yet, don't worry," York reassures him. That might actually end up being easier in comparison. "First we have to explain to Carolina."
Delta winces.
"Yeah, my thoughts exactly."
It's not that York's worried Carolina will freak out -- really, after that thing with Nebraska and the potato guns York understood very quickly that nothing fazes Carolina for long -- but he's still worried about how she will react.
In Delta's words, "There are fates much worse than death."
Behind his helmet, York rolls his eyes so hard he's surprised he doesn't sprain them. "Calm down, drama king, she's not gonna airlock you."
"It's not myself I am worried about," Delta mutters gloomily. He's changed his projection back to its original appearance, but York doesn’t really mind -- he's still his AI, after all, whether he’s wearing a helmet or showing his face.
"Will you just chill? Wash and I are not getting airlocked either. No one is getting airlocked, I'm pretty sure it's against regulations." Or at least that's what he hopes.
Carolina does not airlock anyone, but she stares at Delta silently for almost half a minute, then tilts her head to frown at York. Eventually she says, "You're not joking."
Delta shakes his head. "No."
Carolina sighs like she's pleading to the skies for patience, because if they give her strength she will use it to punch someone in the face. "Someday my life is going to be normal, and my worst problem will be keeping Maine from delivering mission reports that say 'veni, vidi, killed them all'."
She's doing weapons maintenance in her room, a small arsenal of rifles and pistols spread over the comforter, and her hair’s pulled back, the shorter bangs at the sides slipping from the hairband to fall over her face. There's a half-assembled Spiker on her lap and her eyes are sharper than the knives waiting to be polished on her nightstand, and York is stupidly in love with her.
"You would bore to death in a week," York replies, taking off his helmet and giving her a grin. Carolina snorts, but moves the toolbox at her feet so he can sit down next to her on the floor, since attempting to hold his weight while wearing full armour would probably break her bed.
"So you say. Delta." His AI doesn't startle, but he's definitely just the tiniest bit apprehensive as he looks back at Carolina. "You're being pretty quiet considering what you just told me."
"I was waiting to observe your reaction before saying anything else," Delta admits. "I recognise the situation is... unorthodox."
Carolina raises an eyebrow. "I'll say. What reaction were you expecting?"
"Anger, shock, denial..." Delta pauses, and York can actually feel the moment he decides he doesn't have much to lose at this point. "That, or you might throw someone out of an airlock."
It startles a smile out of Carolina, and Delta's nervousness fades just a little. "Not airlocks, no. I'm not exactly thrilled, but I'm not angry, either. A better explanation would be appreciated," she adds, a hint of seriousness back in her tone.
Delta nods. York is pretty sure that if he were as prone to emoting as Theta he would be shifting like a kid caught with his hand on the cookie jar. "What would you like to know?"
"Why, mostly," Carolina replies. "When it happened and what your expectations are would also be good."
Delta's uncertainty shivers at the back of York's head. "Why...?"
"Why do you love him?," Carolina asks, crossing her arms over her knees and leaning forward so she and Delta are facing each other straight on. "Smart AIs are capable of feeling the full spectrum of human emotion, Delta, I don't need to ask how it happened. What I want to know is why Wash, out of everyone else."
York watches them in silence, rather curious about Delta's answer, as well. He can tell how Delta feels to an extent, now he's not actively hiding it from him, just like D can feel what he does, but he had been so worried at first that he didn't really ask for details.
Delta is silent, embarrassment and a hint of anxiety drowning mostly everything else, and Carolina adds, a little softer, "I'm asking for the same reason you told me about this, Delta. I don't want anything to happen without knowing if there's any sort of risk, for any of you. That's why you wanted me to know, isn't it?"
"Yes," Delta agrees quietly. "York suggested coming to you first, but I would've liked you to know regardless."
"Then trust me. I'm not letting anyone get hurt if I can help it," she says, offering Delta a hint of a smile.
It does the trick, and Delta relaxes the slightest degree, though he's still a little mortified over the whole thing. "Agent Washington is a good person," he finally says, looking up at Carolina. "He has always been nice to me, and sought out my friendship even though some would argue I'm not a full person myself. He treats everyone kindly and is very dedicated to his job and his ideals. He asks about my opinions and well-being, and makes me feel happy all the time, and I want--" Delta falls silent, shoulders shifting back. "I want to make him happy as well. I don't know if he would consider allowing me that much, but it's what I want."
Carolina looks at Delta for a long moment, then nods approvingly, that imperceptible smile back on her face. "Good answer. How long have you felt like this?"
"Approximately three and a half months. But York only found out today," Delta admits.
Carolina's eyebrows raise in surprise for a moment, and she shoots York an amused look. "Well, you're certainly more discreet than some people I know."
York smirks. "Hey, don't knock it if it works."
Carolina's eyes turn playful. "Yeah, and it only worked because I liked you first." She turns back to Delta, giving him a considering look. "I'm assuming this is you making sure no one gets thrown out of an airlock?"
"That would be correct."
Carolina nods again, her eyes lowered as she thinks it all through, and York resists the impulse to brush her hair away from her face before it gets tangled on her lashes. Definitely not the time. "I don't remember any regulations against it, so you ought to be safe on that front. However," she adds sternly, "that's probably because there aren't that many AIs who have fallen in love with a human. I don't see a reason to tell Command about this--" The three of them know that by Command she's really talking about the Director. "--but I will intervene if it starts affecting anyone's performance in the field. You will follow the Project's rules on fraternization like everybody else, understood?"
"Understood," Delta nods firmly, but his mind is racing inside York's own.
Carolina's lips turn up just a little. "Good luck, then. What's your plan?"
"York suggested assessing agent Washington's reaction to my advances before proceeding any further," Delta explains. "There are no plans beyond that for the time being."
Carolina glances at York affectionately. "Strategy again, huh?"
"Hey, we're military. I do pay attention during mission briefings."
"Could've fooled me."
York pokes at her leg, and she retaliates by swatting his hand then lacing her fingers with his. "Funny. Any advice to offer, oh Great Leader?"
"I'm not actually sure," Carolina says, brows furrowing slightly. "I mean, I mostly see him like the baby brother I never actually asked for, so flirting with him would've been weird. Maine could probably give you a better answer."
"I'd rather not ask him," Delta says, sounding a little surly, and York has to resist the sudden urge to coo at him, because Delta being jealous is sort of adorable and hilarious.
Carolina just nods, seemingly unaffected, and York remembers this is why he always loses to her on strip poker. "Try compliments, then. Those are always nice to hear."
"You can compliment him on not getting hit by a car on a mission," York suggests, eyes dancing. "Or, y'know, you could if that ever happened-- ow."
Carolina proceeds to ignore York's exaggeratedly sad expression, but she does rub the back of his skull with her fingers to make up for the smack -- not that it actually hurt that much, but York's not going to complain about getting hair scritches. "Would you like to invite him to movie night? You and Theta usually log out, but we could watch something Theta likes to keep him entertained so you can spend some time together and see what happens."
Delta hesitates, but York can tell he likes the idea. "I wouldn't want to impose. It's your personal time, after all."
"It's not like we can't be alone together some other time," Carolina replies with a wave of her hand. "And we don't usually do anything but watch films." Much.
"North won't mind," York adds, not letting himself be derailed by thoughts of previous movie nights. "We can tell him we'll explain later so Theta won't be doing his little 'I'm excited about a thing, ask me why!' dance all the while." Because really, if there's anyone with a chance of figuring it out from Delta's behaviour once the plan is in action, it's probably their resident pair of mother-henning twins. There isn't much of a point in trying to hide it from North.
(The fact that South's caretaking tends to involve sparring and/or alcohol as stress relievers doesn't mean she's not as overprotective or perceptive as her brother, but she doesn't particularly care for Delta, so it's not like they have a lot to worry about in that area.)
"If you're certain, then yes," Delta accepts. "I would appreciate it very much."
York grins. "It's a date."
It is not, in fact, a date. Or that's what Delta keeps saying for the next two days, since the only time York, Carolina and North's schedules overlap long enough for a decent movie night to happen without everyone else occupying the rec room is on Tuesday. He spends most of Sunday going from fretful to determined and back again, and by Monday evening York almost wants to put Delta out of his misery and invite Wash along for him, but he knows it's important for Delta to ask him on his own.
After a couple more hours of alternating between panic and determination, Delta abruptly informs York he just sent Wash a message. What follows is the most nerve-wracking minute and a half of York's life -- and that's including the time he took a goddamn grenade to the face -- it takes Wash to reply, during which he and Delta proceed to silently go crazy with anxiety while pretending they couldn't possibly be any more relaxed if they tried.
(Not that they're trying, really. Look at them, they're even in bed. Totally chill. Totally.)
The part of York's mind that's occupied by Delta freezes over for a second, but before York can do anything more than feel alarmed his AI explodes with relief and excitement, and did Delta just snicker?
"He said yes, as long as you and agent Carolina do not get into another contest over who can make agent North more... uncomfortable in public again." A beat, then Delta says again, "He said yes."
York blames the backlash from Delta's feelings from the past two days for how he falls back on the mattress and laughs himself silly with relief.
Delta is practically buzzing in his head the rest of the night, but for once York doesn't mind not getting that much sleep.
Everyone is on active duty, but there aren't any missions to prepare for at the moment, so York spends most of Tuesday working out, making sure everyone is in running order -- for such a small group of people they sure make a lot of drama -- and trying to keep Delta from short-circuiting himself.
They may or may not arrive like twenty minutes early to the rec room, but Carolina is already inside, so York doesn't feel too silly for it. She's stretched on the couch queueing up the videos for the night from her datapad, and she lifts her face to meet York halfway when he leans down for a kiss.
"You're pretty early," she says with a smile. "Nervous?"
York shrugs, Delta's self-consciousness bleeding into his own feelings. "I've had worse before missions. Prince Charming here, though..."
Delta blinks up, frowning at York and holding his helmet against his hip with one arm. "I would like to remind you I have not 'had worse' before, it's a completely rational -- and moreover, involuntary -- response on my part."
"I told you, it'll be fine," York insists. Carolina raises her feet for a moment so he can sit down at the end of the couch, lowering them to his lap and wiggling to make herself comfortable again. Delta perches himself on the coffee table, a tiny knot of electric tension on the back of York’s neck. "This is a recon mission, he's not gonna find out. If things go sour we'll just brush it off as your version of a bad hair day or something."
"Conflicting directives in an AI's programming can cause erratic behaviour," Carolina points out, looking at Delta, and York holds back the smirk and 'talk nerdy to me, baby' at the tip of his tongue. Timing, York. "Most of the time the AI in question ought to be able to take care of them on their own, but a failure to do so could be blamed on your nature as a fragment. Nothing you can control, so it wouldn't be your fault."
Delta sighs. "Yes, I know. My apologies, I am merely..."
"Nervous?," Carolina finishes, and Delta smiles tiredly.
"Rather terribly, yes."
"York is right, though, it'll be fine," Carolina assures him. York would be bothered by her words having more of an effect than his own if it didn't also work on him most of the time. Carolina's just awesome like that. "Nice look, by the way."
Delta ducks his head slightly, pleasure and embarrassment swirling coolly at the back of York's head. "Thank you. It's not too odd, is it?"
"Not at all," Carolina smiles. "Could be a lot worse."
"Flames?," York suggests, and grins when she pokes his stomach with her foot. "C'mon, even you gotta admit that's a bit too dramatic."
"I will admit to nothing of the sort," she replies, eyes amused as she looks back to the datapad in her hands. "We're marathoning Avatar, by the way. I figured Theta would get distracted trying to firework-bend and give you a chance to be with Wash for a bit."
North arrives before Delta can do more than nod, and York would laugh at the way he changes back to his old projection in the blink of an eye if he didn't know how self-conscious Delta feels about it, and how much he warred with himself over showing it to Carolina.
'Theta makes a lot of questions', Delta says sheepishly inside his head. 'I don't know if I'm prepared to answer them at the moment.'
It's fine, York thinks, holding back a smile. Baby steps and all that.
'...fair enough.'
"Hey, you," North says, leaning down -- way down -- to greet Carolina and York with a kiss and a smile each. "We didn't leave you waiting, did we?"
Theta pops up with a burst of tiny fireworks -- sound effects and all -- and plops himself down on the back of the couch, somehow managing to sound sheepish and accusing all at once. "I said we should've come earlier, but he didn't listen."
Carolina smiles at the younger AI, all bright eyes and dark red lashes. If Delta likes it when he gets her attention, Theta practically basks in it like a kitten in the sunshine. "You're on time, don't worry. Earlier than Wash, at least."
"Told you," North sing-songs, grinning down at Theta, who makes a little disgruntled sound, but snickers when Carolina rolls her eyes at their antics and gets smooched in return.
"Careful, Lina, you'll get dork cooties," York warns her, eyes dancing. Delta all but facepalms incorporeally inside his head, but he can totally suck it, because Wash isn't here yet and York is gonna be as much of a sap as he wants while he still can.
"You're one to be calling names," North replies, sticking his tongue out at York in an amazing display of maturity. "Plus, she doesn't mind my cooties, do you, Lina?"
"I'm kinda used to them, considering I also get York's on a regular basis," she says, long-suffering and absolutely full of shit, if the way her eyes are sparkling is anything to go by.
"Excuse you," York says indignantly, poking her foot, and she squeaks and pulls her feet away from his lap and tickling fingers. "I do not have dork cooties."
"You have the dorkiest of dork cooties."
"What are cooties?," Theta asks Delta in a whisper.
North is still laughing when Wash shows up; Delta's only just managed to convince Theta that cooties are not real, no matter what York and the extranet say, and Carolina will not fall prey to some terrible ‘dweebly’ disease, regardless of how many kisses she gets from either of their agents. York raises his head just in time to feel Delta practically imploding into a giant tangle of happiness and nerves and longing and fear and love, and suddenly he's extremely glad he was already half-curled around North’s side, because otherwise he would've fallen off the couch.
Chill, he thinks a little desperately, and the onslaught of second-hand emotions stops as abruptly as it began.
'I apologise. I forgot to put my safeguards in place.' York can feel Delta is genuinely regretful, but not a lot else, thankfully, and he thinks if that's how Delta feels whenever he sees Wash then York's fist needs to have a couple of words with the Counselor's face. 'That would most likely prove counterproductive, but I appreciate the sentiment nonetheless.'
Offer's standing permanently.
York does have to give it to Delta, he doesn't sound a single bit the emotional bouncy castle he currently is. "Hello, agent Washington."
"Hi Wash!"
"Hey, Delta, Theta," Wash smiles, sitting on the arm of the couch by Carolina's head. Her eyes follow one of his hands unwaveringly, and York snorts, knowing what's about to come.
"You have gummybears."
Wash smirks, swinging the bag a little. "I do."
"Are you planning on sharing or do I have to get you into a headlock first?" Wash rolls his eyes, taking a second pack from his pocket and handing it to her. Carolina grins. "Pleasure making business with you. Now sit down so we can start."
"We're watching Avatar," Theta says, legs swinging in excitement. York finally sits up, settling against North’s shoulder so that Carolina can drape herself over their laps like a big, spoiled cat, which is seems to be her favourite position during movie nights.
Incidentally, she also leaves no place for Wash to sit except for the little sofa -- which is unofficially Florida's -- or on one of the cushions on the floor. As he doesn't have a death wish, Wash grabs his favourite cushion and takes the spot next to the coffee table.
York cheers inside his head, and Delta does nothing to betray the fact that he's debating the pros and cons of going to sit at Wash's shoulder.
Jesus, they're both such dorks.
'I learned from the best', Delta says simply, and York pretends to cough to cover his laughter.
North tilts his head to look at the ceiling. "FILSS? Mind hitting the lights?"
"Not at all," the ship's AI replies pleasantly, the room's lights dimming gently. "Enjoy your show, agents."
"Can do, thank you."
With everyone in place, Carolina hits play -- then lets out a little laugh, pausing the video almost immediately. "Delta, you're blocking the view."
"Ah, of course." Delta blinks out for a second, reappearing on top of Wash's knee.
York has to fight very hard not to do something embarrassing, like squeaking like a goddamn schoolkid.
"It's not too much of a bother if I sit here, is it, agent Washington?," Delta asks, sounding pretty calm for someone who is making York's hands twitch out of second-hand nervousness.
"No, it's fine," Wash says with a smile. Carolina hits play again.
"WATER," Theta booms ominously -- or tries to, at least -- along with the intro, and North laughs silently into York’s hair. "Earth, fire, air. Long ago, the four nations lived together in harmony..."
"How long do you give him 'til he starts 'bending'?," Wash whispers to Delta.
"Less than five minutes. Book two is his favourite," Delta replies, and York knows that if he weren't using his projection's helmet he would be smiling at Wash right now.
Wash grins. "So what nation would you be?"
"I... am not sure. I never considered it before."
"Huh." Wash opens his pack of gummybears, popping one into his mouth before glancing at the screen then back at Delta. "Water tribe, maybe."
Delta tilts his head. "Why?"
"Well, you've got York’s healing unit," Wash points out. "And waterbenders can heal people, right?"
"That would be correct." Delta nods. "Would that make you a firebender, then?"
Wash smiles. "Lightning for EMPs?"
The corners of York's mouth turn up unconsciously as a little rush of happiness hits him from Delta's side of their neural connection. "It would be that, or using shockwaves like an earthbender, but..."
"Secret tunnel!," Theta howls like an extremely cheerful baby coyote, chunks of holographic rock flying through the air as he raises his arms.
Wash chokes back a laugh. "Yeah, I'll take being Fire nation, thank you."
"You would look good in their uniform, at least," Delta says, as playful as he ever gets.
York's eyebrows raise, and he's thankful that the low lights hide the impressed look he sends Delta before even realising it. That was... surprisingly smooth.
Delta's silent reply is the emotional equivalent of 'omgwtfbbq?'.
Mostly it's just confusion, surprise, and a big splash of flustered adoration.
But Wash does laugh, this time, quiet as he shakes his head. "I don't know if I could do the spaulders justice, but thank you for the vote of confidence."
"Any time, agent Washington," Delta replies pleasantly, and York is almost certain that his smile is audible in his voice this time.
Saaaaaap.
D throws a pillow at him from his metaphorical tower, but the way he's silently radiating happiness the entire time makes it hard for York to mind at all.
York has to give it to Wash: it only takes him a week or so before he figures out what's going on with Delta.
Then again, that was kind of the point.
He doesn't get to see Wash go all confused and high-pitched and mildly flaily because, in North's later words, he's technically allied with the offending party -- or, okay, maybe offending is not the right word, but it's pretty damn obvious on whose corner York is, and as much as he cares for the kid, in this case it isn't Wash's side he's on. And it's not like Wash can't understand that, so York doesn't mind him going to the twins for advice.
Though really, considering Theta is even more of a gossip than both the Dakotas combined, York doesn't think Wash even tried to keep the whole thing from Delta. More like giving himself some time to think in private, maybe. After all, in such close quarters and without much else to do during downtime, watching each other go through the tempestuous sea of romantic entanglements (and flings and adventures and drunken mistakes -- and by this he means Wyoming) is pretty much the only source of entertainment they have that doesn't involve the rec room screen or the illegal use of office supplies for a Paper Grifball World Cup.
Wash's side of the story, pieced together from gossip, offhanded comments and -- eventually -- admissions prodded straight from the source, goes more or less like this:
South opens the door to her room around 22h to find Wash outside, out of armour, with his hair mussed beyond repair, and looking a little desperate and a lot lost.
"So call me crazy," he says, and if he didn't look like he was five seconds from becoming a headless chicken South would've probably done just that. "But I think Delta is trying to seduce me."
South stares at him for a second. Wash looks back like a goddamn bewildered puppy.
"Yeah, okay," she says, and drags him to the next room down the hallway, fist pounding on North's door before they even come to a stop. "Yo, asshole, open up!" The door slides open to reveal North with a towel around his shoulders, but before he can do more than give them a curious look South says, "York's lava lamp baby has the hots for the Babylancer."
North's eyebrows -- or what's left of them from the water heater incident -- raise so high it's a miracle they don't leave his face.
"Alright, then," he says, and moves to the side so they can come in, door sliding closed and locking itself behind them. "Theta's logged out already, by the way. You're okay to say whatever."
"Sit." South pushes Wash lightly towards the bed, and North rummages under the bed until he finds a bottle of tequila, giving it to him along with a glass. "Drink, I'm not having this conversation sober."
"Could've been worse," North offers once Wash has thrown back a shot, shaking his head at the bitter flavour. "It could've been Sigma."
South glares at her brother as Wash's face goes from dazed to horrified. Wash takes his next drink straight from the bottle.
The rest of the night is a mess of alcohol -- how much booze is North even hiding? -- and the twins giving each other Looks while he explains the entire story, and he’s sure South is doing shots every time his voice reaches a certain pitch.
Eventually he gets it all out and he's calm once more, just sort of tired and royally smashed.
"So," North asks, his chin propped on his arms as he leans on the bed from the floor. "What do you think?"
Wash frowns from the other end of the bed, still hugging North's pillow like a white shapeless teddybear, but he sounds surprisingly coherent considering how much he's drunk. "I just told you--"
"No, you explained how you noticed it like it was a fucking mission report for the Director," South yawns, lying on her back across the mattress. "And then you said 'are they even supposed to feel that sort of attachment' like eleven times with different words, no matter what we tried to tell you." Wash glares, kicking at her leg, and South smacks whatever she can reach of him -- in this case his thigh -- without even bothering to lift her head. "'S not my fault you're a little bitch."
"Like you weren't the same when you started liking Connie," Wash accuses, and he knows he's made a mistake when both twins give him identical shrewd looks. "What?"
"So you do like him, then?"
"I-- Of course I do, we're friends," Wash stammers. "I'm friends with lots of people, but I don't necessarily want to date them."
South shrugs. "Then tell him that. Not like Vegas Light Show can hurt you if you say no."
"He wouldn't," Wash says, a little sharper than he intended. "Even if he could, Delta's not like that, he just..."
"He's not confused," North says, and it'd seem like an off-hand comment if he weren't giving Wash a look that's more knowing than he likes. "You know everything the AIs feel is as real as what we do, and Delta wouldn't act lightly on something like this."
South snorts. "Paranoid little shit." She rolls her eyes in face of Wash's glare. "Oh, c'mon, it's not like it isn't true."
"Still," he mumbles, frowning at his pillow. "Is this even legal? I'm pretty sure it counts as xenophilia, and-- stop laughing, goddamnit, why the fuck do I even tell you anything--"
South is cackling so hard she actually rolls off the bed while trying to sit up, and Wash scowls at the mop of pale blond hair wheezing on the floor. North rolls his eyes, but he's grinning like mad, because both Dakotas are fucking assholes.
Or at least that's what Wash thinks, until South says, "Tell him about the alien."
North starts laughing too. "No."
"He brought it up!"
"He didn't bring that up, and it doesn't count if I didn't know!"
"You knew after and you still gave each other bedroom eyes."
"'It' was a he, thank you very much, you fucking dick, and his name was--"
"Wait," Wash interrupts, waving his hands like ground control during a Pelican landing. "You-- and-- with an alien?"
North's mouth twists, but he's always had a shit poker face when he's drunk, and Wash can tell he's trying not to laugh again. "No, and that's why I never say anything -- South, shut up, you asshole, this isn't any help."
"Dunno, it's certainly helping me," South grins, though at least she does stop laughing at their expense. Wash is still giving North the eye, though, and South rolls her eyes. "Chill, you moron, have you never heard of pansexuality?"
Wash gives her a look halfway between annoyance and confusion. "Well, yeah, but. Aliens?"
North smiles like a shark. "Tolerance is a virtue."
South snorts. "Tolerance usually does not involve other people's dicks."
"I'm very open-minded," he says, so deliberately sweet it goes all the way around pleasant and into filthy.
Wash slumps miserably into his pillow, wishing for brain bleach. "My head hurts."
"Yeah, that'd be the bottle and a half of tequila you just drank," South nods wisely.
"I hadn't seen anyone drink like that since Monopoly Night last October."
"How do you even hold hands with someone who has no body?," Wash asks to no one in particular.
South stares at him. "You're actually considering it?"
"I--" Wash freezes for a moment, then exhales hard, running a hand through his hair, his roots starting to show. "I don't know, I guess I am?"
"Why?"
"Because I like him! Not-- not like that, or I didn't before, but I just-- I mean, it's not like it wasn't gonna make me wonder once I realised, and..." He sighs again, rubbing his eyes. "It's just... nice, I guess. I mean, if he were-- if it weren't for the whole, y'know, the AI thing, I probably wouldn't, well--"
South rolls her eyes. "You would've banged him to the moon and back already, yeah, I get it."
"No, Jesus fuck, can you please stop being an asshole for five fucking minutes?"
"I don't know, can you stop being a bitch for two?"
"Aw, c'mon, South, give him a break," North says, head on his arms on top of the bed. "It's not like he asked for it or anything."
"I don't even... I don't know, maybe I'm just-- I could be wrong?," Wash says, but it sounds pretty weak even to his own ears.
The twins give him identical ’you sweet, stupid child of the summer' looks. South actually climbs back onto the bed to kneel in front of him and look him in the eye, hands on his shoulders.
"Wash. Friend. Buddy. You do not give someone a mixtape with fucking 'Wonderwall' in it when you wanna be bros," she says very carefully, and Wash groans and buries his face in his hands.
"That's-- that's the thing, who the fuck has even heard 'Wonderwall' in this day and age, it shouldn't be sweet because it's so goddamn cheesy, except-- I just--"
South's arms wrap around him, pulling him down onto the mattress, and Wash stops trying to talk once they're both lying down, North joining their impromptu cuddle-pile a moment after. North's fingers start carding through his hair, combing it back into place, and he can hear South's heartbeat where his ear is pressed against her chest, slow and steady.
Quietly, he asks, "Does it mean I've finally lost my shit if I say I'm... not really opposed to trying something with him?"
North shrugs, his breath tickling Wash's scalp as he replies. "Dunno. I'm not really one to talk, I did kinda flirt with an alien, but I figure... considering our line of work, we risk dying every time we get an assignment, don't we?"
South snorts. "Hell, if the ship has some sort of catastrophic failure we're all stir fry, missions or not."
"Mhm. So why not do whatever you want, if it makes you happy?"
Wash makes a small sound that could be assent as much as it could be denial, and South sighs, arms tightening around him.
"Look, if you're asking me? I'd say you've probably lost your shit pretty fucking spectacularly," she says bluntly. "But it's not like we were the sanest bunch to begin with."
Wash huffs, but he's smiling into her shoulder. "Thanks a lot."
"Try to deny it, motherfucker. Anyway, all things considered..." South sighs again, shaking her head. "I can't believe I'm actually saying this, but I don't know, fucking go for it if you like. I mean, you’ll never get laid, and he’ll probably make you a fucking scrapbook every four weeks to celebrate your ‘monthversaries’ or some shit, but, well. You could do worse."
"At least Delta can't end up like Georgia," North mumbles.
"You still have to tell me what happened to Georgia."
"One tragedy at a time, please," South scoffs. "So, do you want to go steady with the disco ball or not?"
"He's not a disco ball, and... I don't know." Wash picks at the hem of South's oversized t-shirt -- which he's 99% sure actually belongs to her brother -- and eventually murmurs, "Can I decide tomorrow? I'm really regretting the tequila, and I'm pretty sure I'm not legally allowed to make choices at this point."
North laughs softly, and South snorts, but kisses the top of his head. "It's your life, you dumb baby. Decide whenever you like."
"'Kay," Wash nods tiredly. "Sleep first, then."
The twins' only reply is for South to tighten her arms around him while North wrestles the blankets from under their bodies to cover the three of them, and with a quiet word to FILSS once they're settled, the lights go out.
Early next morning, Wash slips away from North's room -- thankfully South is as much of a heavy sleeper as her brother when she drinks -- and leans against the hallway wall for a moment, deep in thought as he looks down to his phone.
He opens a new text.
AIs can sleep independently of their agent's state of awareness. Agents can't sleep if their AI doesn't. This particular design flaw is just one more thing on York's list of reasons to believe a hypothetical higher power can only be a sadistic bastard with a weird sense of humour and too much free time, along with blue shells on Mario Kart, those shitty, shitty chocolates Florida insists on giving everyone for Christmas and, as it turns out, Delta imploding into awareness inside his head at fuck o'clock in the morning.
There are no days or nights in space, but York knows on an instinctive level that if he were to look at the clock on his nightstand, he would probably want to throw himself into a sun just to avoid being awake.
"Dee," he groans, the nickname slurring weirdly because it's too fucking early for anything right now, and his accent goes strange places when he's not fully conscious. "D, what the fuck, are you--?"
Inside his head, Delta interrupts in that perfectly controlled tone of his that means he's either really fucking pissed, or absolutely terrified. 'Agent Washington wants to see me.'
Oh.
Wait, what? "R'now? What fuckin' time's it even?"
'Zero four hundred and sixteen hours.'
"English, D."
Delta feels like a man who's about to face the bad end of a rocket launcher, if the rockets were rejection and the gun was a dorky twentysomething bottle-blond. Somehow, York manages to scrounge the necessary fucks to be sympathetic, rather than telling him to fuck off into a supernova. 'Quarter past four.'
York groans, rolling onto his back and covering his face with his pillow. "Whassewant?"
Thankfully Delta doesn't need to hear him to understand him. 'He requested I meet him at my earliest convenience, and stated he would like to discuss an unspecified topic.'
He doesn't even ask if Delta would be willing to make his earliest convenience sometime after York's gotten some more rest -- he doesn't think he could go back to sleep if Delta's worried, anyway.
York sighs, pushing the pillow off to the side and raising himself to lean into the headboard. "Did he say he was upset about something?"
Delta's hologram lights up in front of York, helmet off and his expression dangerously close to fretful. "No."
"Then chill the hell out, 'kay?" Delta nods, but doesn't relax, and York makes a noise that's halfway between exasperated and affectionate. "D, c'mon, it's gonna be fine. I already told you, if he dares to be a jerk -- which he will not, because he's probably the only person in this ship who is not completely an asshole -- I'm running his ass over with a Warthog."
Delta frowns. "No, you are not."
"Totally am," York grins, though the overall cocky effect is ruined when he yawns so hard he probably looks like a half-shorn lion, and Delta smiles reluctantly as York gets out of the bed. "Alright, let me get dressed and we'll go meet him. I'll take my headphones, give you some privacy and stuff."
"Thank you, York. I'm sorry this is causing so many incon--"
"Nope."
Delta blinks, startled and a little hurt. "No?"
York shrugs, a tired smile on the corners of his lips. "Not a problem, no need to apologise. Just... try to calm down, yeah? It'll be fine."
Delta is still a touch uncertain, but he nods, and sits on the edge of the drawer while York suits up.
Wash is already there when York and Delta get to the observation deck, staring at the stars outside and leaning against the wall opposite to the glass. He turns at the sound of York's steps, and there's something about the way he moves that suddenly reminds York of Wash's first days as the Project's rookie.
At least he looks as nervous as Delta is.
'That is not actually helpful', Delta murmurs at the back of his mind, and York snorts behind his helmet in response.
"Hey," Wash says, stepping away from the wall, halfway between awkward and resolute.
"Hello, agent Washington," Delta greets softly.
Awkward wins, and Wash ducks his head the slightest degree. "Hi, Delta," he says again. "Uh, York? Would you mind...?"
"Sure thing," York replies easily, taking off his helmet and raising the headphones in his hand for Wash to see. "Won't catch a blip, don't worry."
Wash nods silently, and York saunters off to sit on one of the reinforced benches on the corner.
He starts his favourite playlist, and his eyes close as he tries to focus on the song and nothing else -- he won't catch a blip of his own accord, but the AI/agent connection goes both ways, when you're not deliberately blocking it, and what Delta thinks, York will think. It's filtered, but it's still there.
"Sit with me?," Wash asks, gesturing towards the bench nearest to the window, and Delta nods, hoping his nervousness is not actually obvious.
York sighs, and turns the volume up.
Wash sits cross-legged on the bench, waits until Delta follows to speak. "Sorry about the, um, hour. York didn't get too mad, did he?"
"Not at all," Delta says with a shake of his head. "He was very understanding about it."
"That's good." Wash nods a few too many times for it to seem relaxed. "I didn't want to get you in trouble or anything."
Delta resists the urge to cover his face with his hands -- for one, he's wearing a helmet, and two, he doesn't actually want Wash to know how anxious he is. "Agent Washington, I--"
"Wash."
Delta wonders if what he feels right now qualifies as having his heart leap into his throat, even if he has no heart. "I'm sorry?"
Wash hesitates, then reaches up to take off his helmet, lowering it to his lap. He looks only marginally less nervous than Delta feels, which is somewhat reassuring, at least. "It's... kinda dumb to pretend we don't know what this is about, isn't it? So I thought, well, I don't know. You can call me Wash if you want."
Delta looks down, then nods after a long moment. "Very well," he says, and 'takes off' his own helmet.
Wash stares. In any other context Delta would've probably found it amusing, but right now he just looks uncomfortably to the side, hands tightening around the helmet that's now on his lap. "I can change back to my default projection if it bothers you."
"No, no, it's fine," Wash says immediately, and offers Delta a tiny smile. "It fits you."
Delta smiles back, but it doesn't last long. "You wanted to discuss..."
"Yeah." Wash gives him a look he can't decipher, and Delta feels the irrational urge to get closer and leave at the same time. "I'm... probably gonna regret this if I read it all wrong, but the whole... the mixtape, and the texting, and inviting me to movie night and to hang out with you guys, it wasn't-- it's not just a friends thing, is it?"
Unlike what agent South Dakota may have implied on occasion, Delta doesn't think in binary, but for the briefest second he wishes he did, because maybe this would be easier if he could pretend he was discussing numbers rather than emotions.
And then the thought is gone, and Delta forces himself not to look down when he admits, "It wasn't meant platonically, no."
Wash exhales, the sound halfway between nervous and relieved. "Okay. Okay, that's... Good to know. That I wasn't imagining it, I mean." He glances down, fiddling with the latch of his helmet, and Delta's shoulders lower a little without the weight of his eyes holding him in place.
It's strange, Delta thinks idly -- or rather numbly, perhaps -- how it hurts to have him know, yet at the same time it makes him feel better. He doesn't think this was mentioned in his research.
"Delta?," Wash's voice is soft, and Delta makes his face as calm as he can manage before looking at him again. "I'm not angry at you, you know?"
He smiles faintly. "I'm glad to hear that. I wouldn't wish to lose your friendship over unrequited feelings."
"Uh, yeah." Wash lets out that same little nervous laugh, looks away to the window this time. "I'm... not too sure about that."
Delta's face crumbles, something cold and hard clawing at him from inside. "I-- I apologise, I--"
Wash looks back at Delta, and his eyes widen. "Oh my God, no, that-- that came out wrong, Delta, I didn't mean-- I wasn't--" He covers his eyes with his hand, sighing in frustration. "I'm making a mess out of this. I'm not going to stop being friends with you, okay?"
Delta doesn't reply for a moment, willing himself into calmness before York decides something awful has happened and runs Wash over with a Warthog. Eventually he nods, justifying his refusal to look up on the grounds that he most definitely had the emotional equivalent of complete systems failure just now. "I appreciate it."
"I'm sorry." Wash sighs. "This is probably the worst excuse ever, of all time, but I don't actually know what I'm doing here."
"That makes two of us, if it's any consolation," Delta replies, defaulting to humour out of relief rather than anything else.
"Well," Wash says, giving Delta a look he doesn't know how to describe, but which does funny things to his emotions, "we can be clueless together, at least?"
Delta fights to keep his face calm, but his eyes widen the slightest degree. "You mean..."
Wash smiles, a little self-conscious and painfully sweet. "What can I say? I really like 'Wonderwall'." Delta makes a sound that's too surprised to be proper laughter, but Wash doesn't seem to mind, ducking his head and looking at Delta with crinkled eyes. "So, uh. Wanna go steady?"
"Yes," Delta says immediately, smiling wide and feeling like his entire body just turned to fireworks. "I would like that very much."
Wash relaxes the tiniest bit, and his eyes linger affectionately on Delta before turning thoughtful. "Hey, let me try something, yeah?"
Delta tilts his head, curiosity bubbling through the euphoria that's pretty much drowning anything else he feels. "What is it?"
"Well..." Wash unfolds his legs from under his body, hoists himself off the bench so he's sitting on the floor, and Delta realises they're roughly of a height when placed this way. "I can't touch you right now, and I kinda really want to, so unless you have any objections I’d like to try an alternative solution." He pauses, giving Delta a hesitant look. "Do you mind?"
Delta shakes his head. "I trust you."
Wash’s answering smile, Delta decides, is a memory that needs to be stored and backed up immediately. Maybe several times, even. "Alright, stand still then."
Delta obeys, curiosity taking over by this point, and Wash leans his head closer to Delta's own, slowly, until their foreheads are touching -- or as close to it as they'll ever get.
Wash's eyes are closed, and Delta is flooded with so much affection that he realises he is, as York so nicely put it after movie night, 'totally doomed'.
"This okay?," Wash murmurs, lids half opening to glance at him softly, mouth still turned gently upwards. Delta could count each of his eyelashes with him this close, and all of the freckles on his face.
He closes his eyes, unable to help his smile as he senses Wash do the same. "Absolutely."
All agents of Project Freelancer are supposed to give regular reports on their AI's behaviour.
The thing is, Delta isn’t actually Wash’s -- at least not in the way the Project’s rules understand it -- so none of them feels the need to mention their plans for today to their commanding officers.
Wash leans against their rental car and bears with York’s fussing over the temporary containment unit around his wrist.
“York, the odds of something happening to us in the span of two hours are--”
“I know, I know, so infinitesimal they might as well be a grain of sand floating in deep space," York drones, but doesn’t stop his careful poking at the holographic interface. “How’s that work?”
Delta rolls his eyes, but complies. “Congratulations, the seventh back-up to the timer was successful. Satisfied?”
“Not if that thing was encased in another layer of titanium and had machine guns stuck to it," York replies cheerfully.
Thankfully Carolina stops him before he can start another backup of the latest backup, or set an automatic distress call, or anything of the sort, taking one of his hands in her own with an amused look. “York, you’ve been fussing over this for the past three days. It's just the fair, and we’ll be around if they need us, it’ll be fine.”
North smiles from where he’s leaning against the boot of the car with Wash, eyes bright. “Which reminds me, Theta would like you to know that if he doesn’t get to ride the ferris wheel soon, he’s going to explode.”
Delta looks at him expectantly, and York sighs, lacing his fingers with Carolina’s. “Fine. Be at the meeting point in time, or I’ll make you watch the Star Wars reboots and throw Wash out of an airlock."
"I'm shaking in terror," Delta says dryly. "And no, you won't."
"Totally will," he warns, but his mouth turns up at the corners. "Have fun."
Delta smiles. "You too."
"See you in a while," North waves, joining the other two and walking away.
Wash steps away from the car, hands in his pockets and smiling at Delta. "Ready?"
"Not quite. Stay still, please," he replies, and Wash laughs when he vanishes, reappearing close enough to press an intangible kiss to Wash's cheek. "Now I am. Thank you."
"My pleasure," Wash replies sweetly, and reaches up to make sure the microphone in his ear is set correctly while Delta deactivates his hologram for good, trying out the temporary unit's systems. "Talk to me?"
'Love you', Delta says wordlessly, and is pleased when a flood of data informs him Wash is smiling, and his heart speeding up the slightest bit.
"Guess it does work." Then, where only Delta gets to hear him, 'Love you too.'