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York made his way down the hall to the rec room in what could only be described as a delighted skip, cradling the pouch of his hoodie carefully. I can’t wait to show the guys. He thought gleefully.
Stopping in front of the rec room door, York impatiently pressed the button to open the door. The door slid open with a hiss and had barely opened halfway before York darted through the narrow gap.
The only ones in the rec room currently were the twins, North and South, and Wash. North and Wash were on the large sectional couch that curled in an L-shape around a rickety coffee table which sat in front of a forty-three-inch flat screen that was balanced precariously on some old storage boxes (well where else are they supposed to put their smuggled TV?), focusing intently on their video game, while South was on the floor, cleaning her guns. Like York, they were wearing their civilian clothes (read: sweatpants and hoodies) as opposed to their armor.
York had to suppress snickers when he saw Wash with his hood up, which wouldn’t be out of the ordinary (it went unspoken between the team but they knew he was trying to imitate the sense of security his helmet gave him) but Wash was wearing the hoodie with cat ears on the hood that Maine had given him for Christmas.
North looked up from his game and when he saw the look on York’s face, he silently groaned and mentally prepared himself for what new dumb thing would leave York’s mouth.
Still wearing his gleeful—almost demonic—grin, York reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out a medium size snake that oddly enough, had no left eye. York held him up proudly, the snake flicking its tongue. “Guys, I impulsively bought a snake, what do I name him?”
“You did WHAT-”
“William Snakepeare,” Wash said immediately, cutting over North.
North gaped at both York and Wash, dumbstruck, while South threw her head back, roaring with laughter.
“William Snakepeare!” She wheezed, clutching her stomach.
York watched as North snapped his jaw shut and stared at the scaly creature that had wound himself into a little knot, his head peeking out the top. Once North confirmed that his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “York, please explain to me how you went on a simple reconnaissance mission with Florida and you come back with a snake.” He sighed into his hand, summoning all the rapidly fading patience he could muster.
York cupped the hand that held the snake and moved it against his chest so the reptile could soak up the warmth that the pocket between York’s hand and chest had trapped. “It started as a reconnaissance mission-”
“Don’t they always?” South said sarcastically, her lips twisted in a sardonic smirk.
North shushed his twin, and South scowled at him, annoyance and aggravation crackling in her sky-blue eyes like lightning ready to strike.
“What do you mean “started”?” North said, rolling his hand in a continue motion.
York chuckled sheepishly. “I kinda… blew up the rendezvous point where Niner was supposed to pick us up?”
North blinked at York.
“How the hell did you do that?” Wash asked.
“We were trying to break into the warehouse where the Insurrectionists had set up shop to check it out, but there was a patrol coming and I was being rushed and I kinda… tripped the lock and the alarm went off,” York muttered the last part under his breath hurriedly, the tips of his ears going pink.
South started cackling again. “You, our resident locksmith, couldn’t pick the lock!?” She hooted.
“It was a holographic lock, you know those are difficult!” York defended, running his thumb over William Snakepeare, the scales soothing to his skin. Hmm, maybe he could call him Willy for short? Like One-eyed Willy from The Goonies. Yeah, that sounded right.
North cleared his throat, trying to get the attention back on him. “And then?” North said, steering the conversation back on course.
“The usual: a fight broke out, bullets flying everywhere, one or two machine guns pinning us down, the works,” York shrugged nonchalantly. “Florida managed to… convince one of the soldiers to open the door for us.”
Everyone winced. Florida might be cheerful and all sunshiny but there was something not right about him. It left a tingle in York’s spine and made him uneasy.
“We got in, did some quick survey of the place, and tried to leave but some idiot threw a grenade in the warehouse and a bunch of experimental stuff blew up. Fucked up the rendezvous point so Niner told us to meet her at a junkyard in the town where the Insurrectionist armory was at. Saw this old man about to throw poor Willy here,” York stroked Willy’s head comfortingly. “Off a bridge. I had Florida raid a pet store while we waited for Niner.” York finished, a pleased grin plastered on his face.
“You know the Director’s gonna throw him out an airlock, right?” South said, going back to cleaning her gun.
York glared at her, holding Willy closer. North really needed to tell her when to keep her comments to herself. “He wouldn’t do that,” He paused and looked at Wash and North. “Would he?”
Wash shrugged while North spread his hands in an I-don’t-know way.
“Even if he doesn’t toss him out an airlock, the Director still won’t let you keep him,” South said, indifferent to what her harsh, but true, statement had on York.
“South has a point,” North agreed.
“For once,” Wash muttered under his breath.
South growled at him and hurled her empty soda can at him.
Wash yelped as the can made a painful contact with his head. “Ow!” He cried, his hand coming up to rub the inflicted area. “What the hell!?” He demanded, his voice raising an octave with every word.
“Talk shit, get hit,” Wash South’s only answer
“South, stop damaging the rookie,” North sighed. “We still need him in the field.”
“What, so he can get hit by cars?” South grumbled but she didn’t throw anything else at him.
Wash crossed his arms and turned away with a huff, brooding (Wash says brooding but York knows sulking when he sees it).
“So then we just hide Willy,” York replied to North as if nothing happened.
“Where exactly are you going to hide him?” North asked, unconsciously slipping into his Dad voice.
“In my room,” York answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Wash and South watched the exchange with amusement, their heads moving back and forth like it was a tennis game. But instead of rackets and fuzzy green balls, it was words and bantering. York tilted his head a little when South scooted forward to whisper something in Wash’s ear. Wash leaned back, his eyes never leaving the dialogue between York and North. After a moment, he nodded. South moved back to her spot, her lips twisting into a devilish grin.
“Doesn’t he need a habitat to survive? And food?” North said, exasperated, drawing York’s attention back to him.
York grinned. It was funny watching the calmest and most collected Freelancer fall apart like this. Maybe he should get snakes more often. “Florida got all the supplies we needed when he raided the pet store,” York said, waving away North’s concerns.
North opened his mouth to argue further but shut it, giving in to defeat. “Fine. just don’t let him out of his cage.”
“Enclosure.” Wash corrected under his breath.
“Shut up, Rookie,” South said and held her hand out. “Now pay up.”
Wash groaned and sourly handed over ten bucks to her, a sullen look on his face.
South took the money triumphantly, looking very pleased with herself. North gave her a look. “What?” She demanded. “Wash lost the bet.”
“What did you two even bet on?” York asked, twisting his hand so Willy could stay upright as he explored.
“How long it would take for North to give in and accept that you now have a pet snake,” Wash answered.
“No one thought I could convince him?” North asked, miffed.
“You didn’t stand a chance,” Wash answered immediately.
“You don’t win with idiots like York,” South said, giving York a sly grin.
“Hey!” York protested, causing South to snicker.
North took a deep breath in and slowly let it out. “Where’s Florida now?” He asked far too calmly for someone who looked like they were going to burst a blood vessel from the stress the team brought him.
“Should we tell Carolina about this?” Wash mused.
York winced. He wasn’t sure how their fearless leader would take York sneaking a pet onto the Mother of Invention without permission from the Director, but he knew for sure that she won’t cheerfully accept it and life will continue on as normal. In all the time since York had met Carolina at that ridiculous nightclub ( Errera, York remembered fondly), he’s painfully discovered that Carolina didn’t do cheerful.
“And have her chew us out?” South demanded. “No thank you. Let’s not tell her.”
“Not tell me what?” Said the new voice behind them.
Wash and York jumped (though York took great care to not jostle Willy too much and patted him comfortingly), North had a resigned look on his face, and South crossed her arms moodily.
York turned his head to see Carolina standing behind him in her armor, cyan (Turquoise? Seafoam? Whatever color is it) plating covered in blood splatters (hopefully not hers. Carolina was too stubborn to visit med-bay for any wound unless it was serious) and grime from the mission York assumed she just got back from. Her piercing emerald eyes lined with bone-deep exhaustion as her sharp stare pinned them in place, a hand on her hip and an eyebrow raised expectantly. The four of them had been so engrossed in their conversation to notice that the door had opened and their leader had slipped in, catching the tail end of the debate.
Everyone exchanged glances with each other, no one saying a word as they silently argued about what to do.
“Well?” Carolina prompted, strands of her fiery crimson hair that escaped her ponytail framing her face like rivers of fire, making her growing impatience all the more nerve-wracking.
Everyone looked at York expectantly, letting him take the fall if Carolina decides to dole out punishments
Thanks guys. I can always count on you. He thought irritably, shooting them a stink eye that promised revenge.
York gave her his best easy-going grin that always seemed to win her over (at least he hoped. At the very least, she usually looked less inclined to hit him), and held out the arm that Willy was wiggling across. “Say hi to William Snakepeare!” He said far too brightly.
Carolina gave the reptile a look that said she wasn’t positive that it wasn’t a hallucination. “What.”
“He’s my new pet,” York answered, not dropping his grin. “And the Mother of Invention’s new unofficial mascot.”
Carolina’s eyes flickered up to York, looking at him like he grew a second head. “I’m sorry?”
“I tried to stop him,” North shrugged.
“You knew and didn’t decide to stop this from getting out of hand?” She demanded.
“You think I would’ve let it get to this point if I knew?” North pointed out, making Carolina pause. She mulled over his argument like wine, considering his words. With North being one of the more level-headed Freelancers, he could usually put a stop to York’s shenanigans (much to York’s disappointment).
In the end, she let out a long exhale through her nose. “I have been on mission for thirty-nine hours and with only seven pitiful hours of sleep. I am covered in blood, sweat, bruises, and filth,” She said, with a lethal calmness. “As long as there are no repercussions or paperwork I have to do, I do not care.”
“Of course you’re letting him keep him,” She grumbled. “Had it been anyone else, you would’ve said no. You only said yes because you two are banging.”
“We’re not banging,” Carolina growled through gritted teeth.
“York.” South turned her unconvinced gaze to York
“I will neither confirm nor deny,” York said carefully, fully aware of Carolina’s eyes boring holes into the side of his skull.
South’s disbelieving snort said more than words ever could.
York carefully unwound Willy from his arm and gently placed him back in his hoodie pocket with the hand warmers. “I’m going to go see if Florida is done setting up Willy’s enclosure.” He said, edging out of the room (or future murder scene if South decided to keep pressing Carolina’s buttons).
Coward. Wash mouthed.
York gave him an unapologetic grin as he fled the room.
Surprisingly, when York introduced Willy to the rest of Alpha Squad–which really was just Connie, Maine, and Wyoming–the next night, it didn’t go horribly. Connie snorted with a mixture of amusement and exasperation at his name, Maine pet Willy curiously, and Wyoming watched the snake apprehensively, edging away slightly.
Miraculously, no one was afraid of Willy (except for Wyoming, but York didn’t really care about him). They all found him charming and they took great care to be mindful around Willy when he was out of his enclosure.
Until now.
Wyoming was dozing on the couch after a particularly strenuous training session, his chest rising and falling steadily. York was on the opposite side of the couch, finishing typing a report on the recon mission he came back from yesterday for the Director, Willy gliding around York’s arm curiously.
Unfortunately, York was exhausted from his mission and it wasn’t long before he drifted off, his datapad dangling loosely from his fingers. Willy took this opportunity to go investigate the sleeping sniper that was draped on top of the well-loved couch, gliding smoothly across the cushions.
He weaved his way across the slumbering plane of Wyoming’s body until Willy had coiled his sinuous body on top of the Freelancer’s chest, right under his chin. The hairs from Wyoming’s comical handlebar mustache rippled from his breathing, drawing Willy’s attention.
Willy’s tongue flicked out, tasting the air. Unfortunately, he caught the scent of the chicken Wyoming’s mustache that he had for lunch an hour prior. And since Willy hadn’t been fed in three days and he could smell food right there, well…
It did not end well.
York woke up with a start at Wyoming’s pained shriek. His lazy mood dissolving, York lunged off the couch, his fight or flight reaction kicking in, ready to fend off whoever was attacking.
York looked over at Wyoming and despite the gravity of the situation, York had to bite his tongue to not bust out laughing.
Willy was dangling from Wyoming’s upper lip, looking like a very long noodle, while Wyoming was hopping in place, trying to get the snake off of him while cursing so creatively, South would be impressed.
York walked over to the swearing man and grabbed him firmly by the shoulders, forcing him to sit. “C’mon, Mario, I thought you were Italian. Eat your spaghetti right,” York couldn’t help but tease him.
“I’M BRITISH, YOU BLOODY WANKER!” The English man shouted furiously.
York snickered and got to work on getting Willy off of Wyoming. Luckily for him, Willy’s missing eye messed up his depth perception so only one fang went through his lip. It took a great deal of coaxing—and Googling—but York managed to pry Willy off of Wyoming.
The moment he was freed, Wyoming backpedaled away from Willy, giving him the most venomous glare he could muster. He lunged at the reptile who was curled into a ball on the couch.
Quick as a snake (heh), York took hold of Wyoming’s wrist, easily twisting the man’s arm behind him. Wyoming yelped in pain as York none to gently guided him away from his slithery companion. He struggled in vain as he tried to break the lock York had him, but there was a reason that Wyoming was a sniper; he sucked at hand-to-hand combat.
York leaned down, his mouth next to Wyoming’s ear. “Try that again and I’ll make the bite Willy gave you look like a paper cut,” York warned him lowly. He went to release the man but frowned. He took a deep breath and smelled the chicken on Wyoming’s mustache. “And next time you eat meat, wash it off your mustache. Snakes have an incredible sense of smell,” York added and let go of him.
Wyoming gave him a resentful look, his eyes burning with rage before storming out of the rec room, most likely on his way to the med bay.
York sighed and looked down at the python in hiding his hand. “Word of advice for the future: British people don’t make good food; they don’t use salt or anything so all you’re gonna taste is bland food and bitterness,” York advised as he tucked Willy in his hoodie, going back to his room to give him some proper food.
Unfortunately, the Director found out about Willy soon after the incident with Wyoming.
Wyoming had been walking to the med bay and ran into the Director. The southern commander of the MoI demanded to know where Wyoming had gotten a bite mark from.
To his credit, Wyoming didn’t rat York out immediately, but under constant questioning by the Director, he eventually caved.
The Director was furious that York had snuck a snake onboard. After giving all of Alpha squad a severe tongue-lashing about no animals being allowed on the ship and attempting to hide it from him, he ordered York to get rid of the “infernal creature” or there would be dire consequences for the whole team.
York was devastated that he had to give up Willy. Their pilot, Niner, offered to give him to her sister who likes snakes. York reluctantly agreed, seeing it as the best course of action for his reptilian companion.
But it didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt.
Two days later, York was dragging his feet as he brought Willy to Niner, ready for travel. He handed her the box and walked off. He already said his goodbyes. No need to drag it out.
“I thought he would be over it by now,” Carolina murmured to North a week later at breakfast after watching York stare glumly at his oatmeal.
“He really loved that snake,” North sighed. “He always knew Willy couldn’t stay forever but he’s still upset that he had to give him away.”
“Hm.” Carolina hummed in acknowledgment, a half-baked idea forming in her mind. She stood up abruptly, startling North, and marched out of the mess hall, on a mission to find CT.
York looked up from his datapad at the knock at his door before looking back down. “Go away, Wash. I’m not in the mood to spar.” He called.
“Didn’t know I was the rookie all of a sudden.” A feminine voice that was decidedly not Wash answered.
York froze before scrambling off his bed to the door, throwing his datapad to the side as he did. He threw open his door to come face to face with Carolina. “Hey, Lina,” He greeted smoothly. “What brings you to my humble abode?”
Without saying a word, Carolina thrusted something into his hands. York looked down and blinked when he saw it was a… small snake plushie?
“I know it’s not Willy or anything, but I thought you might like it. I had CT get it for me,” She said like it was no big deal but York could see the tips of her ears going pink.
“I took out one of the eyes, as well.” She continued and sure enough, the left eye on the plushie that looked remarkably like Willy was gone.
York looked back up with a grateful smile. “Thank you, Lina,” He said and grinning slyly. “So you do care about me.”
“Don’t turn this into a big deal,” She warned. “I only did this so you would stop moping.” She said sternly but the corners of her mouth were twitching, like she was trying hard not to smile.
“Do I get a kiss?” York asked, deciding to push his luck.
Carolina rolled her eyes and stalked off.
York grinned and retreated back into his room, clutching the plushie tightly, feeling happier than he had in a while.