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Looking back, York didn't think a harmless prank would escalate as far as it did.
He should’ve known better.
“Florida.” York pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why is there a shark in your jeep?”
Florida smiled, like it was a normal question to ask people. “I found it on the beach this morning after my morning surf. I thought it was interesting and that the rest of you would find it interesting as well.”
York stared at the dead apex predator, situated in the passenger seat like a fucked up human, its lifeless eyes piercing his soul. Unsettling was the word that came to York’s mind.
“Yeah, buddy,” York said. “Real interesting.”
York prayed it wouldn’t ruin his vacation. Well, sorta vacation. York and the rest of Alpha squad were being forced to take a class that would teach them about all the new tech and weaponry, as well as the stuff in their field of specialty. It lasted a month and the base where these classes took place was on the coast somewhere in California which York thought was awesome. Six hours in a boring ass class then the rest of the time to relax and have fun? Hell yeah.
They were being housed in a small neighborhood that was built for the personal that worked on base and other task forces that were here for training. They were given two houses to stay in, but honestly though? It felt weirdly domestic. It constantly threw York off waking up in an actual house and not the soulless walls of the Mother of Invention. Like, it was nice to be in an actual house and not what felt like a box, but not staying in a secure and fortified box stressed him out at times—he felt vulnerable.
They’d only been here a week but York thought—hoped—it would take longer for the usual Freelancer shenanigans to start up. In retrospect though, he was surprised it had taken this long before something happened. York was even more surprised it wasn’t caused by Wash.
Florida clapped his hands together, bringing York back to the present. “Well that’s superb! I bet Wyoming would be very interested to see what I found. I’ll be seeing you later, York!”
The locksmith watched as Florida strolled into the house, then looked at the shark.
Honestly, York shouldn’t be surprised. He really shouldn’t. Florida has always been… odd, so this wasn’t out of character for him. This was absolutely something Florida would do.
But still.
(York was starting to suspect that Florida was doing this on purpose, finding some sick, twisted joy in unsettling York.)
York dragged a hand down his face. It was too damn early. “I need a beer,” he grumbled and trudged inside.
York made a beeline for the kitchen, reaching inside the fridge for a beer. He popped the cap off and took a very long swig.
“I hope you know it’s eight in the morning,” an amused voice said from behind him.
York turned around and gave North the flattest stare he’s ever made. “It’s five O’Clock somewhere,” he shrugged and took another drink. “Florida found a dead shark and brought it back with him.” York explained.
North raised a brow. “That’s… certainly a sentence,” he said slowly, trying to comprehend that those words were spoken together on purpose. “...why?”
York made a how should I know motion with his hands, beer sloshing in the bottle. “Who knows, man, It’s Florida.”
“True.”
“What about Florida?” A new voice asked.
York perked up when Carolina walked into the room. Despite having just woken up, she looked as beautiful as ever, bedhead and all.
“Florida brought a dead shark he found here,” North supplied, beating York to it. Asshole.
Carolina squinted, emerald eyes scrutinizing the two, trying to determine if they were messing with her or not. Then it looked like she didn’t actually care and just huffed. “Make sure he doesn’t bring it in the house.” Was all Carolina said before she grabbed a mug from the cabinet, poured herself some coffee someone brewed, and shuffled to the porch, looking eerily similar to a zombie.
“Y’know, for someone who struggles to sleep, she sure isn’t a morning person,” North remarked.
York hummed.
After that, York had pretty much forgotten about the shark, his mind deciding it wasn’t the weirdest thing York had seen—or done—and therefore not important enough to remember. So York went to his boring ass class, grabbed some lunch, went on a run with Carolina, showered, arm wrestled with South (and lost), and played video games.
He remembered it pretty quick when York spotted it in the bed of his truck when he went to go pick up dinner.
York stared up at the sky with a tired and utterly unamused. “Why me?” he asked, wondering if some sort of deity was laughing themself sick at York’s expense. Or maybe it was the universe giving him yet another middle finger, because why the hell not?
Grumbling, he grabbed the tail and pulled the shark towards him, before hefting it into his arms with a grunt (thank god it wasn’t a full grown shark, otherwise he would be having a completely different problem).
York noted there was a suspicious absence of Florida’s jeep. Then he remembered that Florida and Wyoming left to go to run errands. Knowing Wyoming, he would’ve demanded Florida get rid of the shark, and knowing Florida, he would’ve put the body in the most convenient place he could. Unfortunately, it ended up being York’s truck, which had the misfortune of being parked right next to the jeep.
Though, as York stood there in the driveway, shark in arms, he realized that he didn’t really have anywhere to put it.
Except…
York winced as he walked over to Maine’s truck. “Please don’t kill me,” he prayed and dumped the body into the bed. Maine was a chill guy—kinda—but York had no idea how he would react to a dead shark in his truck, nor did he want to stick around to find out.
York all but fled to his truck and pulled out of the driveway hastily.
After that, everything continued as normal right up until South barged into the living room, demanding who the hell put a giant ass fish in her truck. Nobody claimed responsibility, especially Maine, who sat in the corner reading a book. He didn’t even look guilty. South snarled when she didn’t get an answer and stomped away. Later, the shark wound up in Connie’s truck and she dumped it in North’s truck, and he ditched it South’s truck, who then left it in Wyoming’s truck.
For about a week, it went on like this; everybody moving the shark from one vehicle to the other. Sure, they could’ve just dumped it in the ocean but there was no fun in that.
Then one night, York and the twins went over to the house that Connie, Maine, Florida, and Wyoming were staying in, and started drinking, and drinking, and drinking. When a group of people drink that much nothing good was bound to happen.
Sure enough, they were talking about the shark and York had a brilliant idea that only drunk people could come up with.
“We should duct tape the shark to Wash’s truck,” York blurted.
Connie frowned. “What, like to the hood?”
York shook his head. “No no, underneath the truck. On the bottom.”
South rolled her eyes. “Why the hell would we do that?”
“Because,” York said, his evil grin growing more prominent by the second. “I want to see how long it takes for the rookie to notice it’s there and also because base inspection is in two weeks. Y’know, the one where they bring the search dogs.”
York could see the exact moment it clicked in. South matched his grin and cackled. “I knew there was a reason we kept you around! We’re in.”
North sighed. “I’m probably going to regret this when I’m sober, but sure, I’ll go along.”
“I’m not!” Wyoming protested loudly, which York felt was a little excessive. “Keep me out of this, you bloody loons.”
York shrugged. Fine by him. “Just don’t tell Wash.”
Wyoming rolled his eyes. “Mate, I don’t care enough about any of this to tell him what you twits are up to.”
York shrugged again. “Eh, close enough.”
“Can we go already?” South demanded, rising from her seat and proceeded to march to the other house.
“Woah woah woah!” York scrambled in front of the blonde, almost tripping over his feet as he did. “You can’t just go over there like that. We need disguises and supplies.”
South raised a brow. “Oh yeah? And what did you have in mind?”
York grinned.
“Oh, this’ll be good,” Wyoming muttered into his drink.
Fifteen minutes later and their little group was all decked out in black clothes, carrying several rolls of duct tape, and one dead shark. Wyoming had taken one look at them and retreated inside, grumbling about idiotic and ridiculous teammates as he did.
York ignored him and they snuck across the street, coming to a stop at Wash’s truck.
“South,” he said. “Can you help me get the shark under the truck?”
South rolled her eyes but humored him. They both got down on the ground, lying on their backs with the shark in between them, and they started to shimmy under the truck
“Sure wish we had a jack,” York grunted, struggling to wriggle under the truck and drag the shark with him. Didn’t help that there were rocks digging into his back. “Kind of a tight squeeze.”
“It wouldn’t be if you would do this right,” South argued and shoved the shark. York yelped when a fin slapped him in the face.
“Why are you blaming me and not the shark?”
“Because the shark had an excuse, York—it’s dead.”
“Will you two knock it off,” North scolded, somewhere to York’s right. “There are easier ways to do this. Maine, could you…?”
“North, if I can’t fit then Maine definitely wo—oh holy shit!” York’s eyes went huge as he watched Maine reach under the truck and lift it until the bumper was level with his chest.
Connie whistled. “I knew you were strong but I didn’t know you could lift a truck outside your armor.”
South, on the other hand, looked irritated. “What I want to know is why didn’t we do this in the first place? I just crawled on the ground for nothing.”
“No clue,” York answered. “Whatever the reason is, I’m going to blame the beer.” Yeah, that sounded right.
“Heavy,” Maine grunted. “Hurry.”
“Sorry, buddy,” York apologized. “Okay, North, South, help me hold this thing in place while Connie and Florida duct tape it.”
“Why are you giving orders?” South grumbled but hefted up the head.
“It was his idea,” North reminded from where he was kneeling on the ground, holding the tail in place for Florida.
“York is kind of the de facto leader if Carolina is out of commission.” Connie added as she wrapped tape around the head.
South scoffed. “Only because they’re fucking.”
York did a full body jerk. That was not where he thought this was going. “Woah, who said anything about us, uh, banging?”
Everyone stopped what they were doing and gave him a look. Even Maine, who was focusing on not dropping the truck spared him an unimpressed look.
“It is somewhat obvious,” Florida said as he finished securing the shark. “But don’t worry, we won’t judge.”
“Can we please just finish this?” York begged.
“Notice how he didn’t deny it,” Connie hummed, tape going around the main part of the body several times, just to be safe.
“Connie!”
She snickered and stepped out from under the truck. “Alright, I’m done. Florida, you good?”
He gave her a thumbs up and Maine lowered the truck.
“Alright then,” York grinned. “Our mission is complete.”
This was going to be fun.
After about a week, the shark more or less faded to the back of York’s mind. Wash asked about it a few days after their drunken mission, and Connie told him they got rid of it nearby (York disguised his snort behind a cough). After that, the shark wasn’t brought up again.
Until now.
The Freelancer’s were gathered in the living room, sitting on the various seats—or the floor in Florida’s case—playing Go Fish while they waited for Wash to get out of his class so they could go get dinner. York hoped it was soon because he was starving.
With perfect timing, York’s phone buzzed with an incoming text.
Wash: I’m here
York looked out the window as Wash parked on the street and choked. He smacked North’s arm frantically, trying to get his attention.
“Ow, dammit—!” North leaned out of York’s reach and gave him a disgruntled look. “What, York?”
Laughing, York pointed at the window. “Look at Wash’s truck,” he wheezed, doing a very good impression of a printer having an asthma attack. Oh god, he can’t breathe.
North and everyone else peered out the window, trying to see what sent York into hysterics.
South spotted it first and joined in with York, cackling like a hyena. North buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking. Everyone else was either laughing, snickering, or scoffing. Hell, even Maine was chuckling, albeit slightly but still chuckling.
Carolina squinted at the truck. It only took a moment for her to turn to York, a mixture of disbelief and denial slowly creeping up on her face. “Please don’t tell me that’s what I think it is.”
York nodded, his face full of mirth. “Yes, ma’am.”
“You guys are idiots,” Carolina said as she looked at the dangling tip of the tail and the head of the shark, the tape having given out.
“Yes, ma’am,” York repeated, a huge grin on his face.
“I would like it to be known that I had no part in this,” Wyoming said loudly, eyeing Caroline pointedly.
“Pussy,” South mocked.
Wyoming glared furiously at her and opened his mouth to spit out some weird British insult when Connie spoke first.
“Shut up, he’s coming in.” she said, just as the door opened.
Wash walked into the room and noticed something was off immediately. “You guys okay?” he asked, confused.
You could’ve cut the tension in the room with a knife with how thick it was. The appearance of Wash reminded everyone of the shark, which brought back the previous levity. No one dared make eye contact, otherwise, it was all over. York stuffed his fist in his mouth, trying to block the giggles that were threatening to escape. He suddenly found the far wall extremely interesting.
South smirked, which was never a good sign. “Everything’s great,” she drawled, her voice promising mischief which did not bode well for everyone. “In fact, I was thinking we should get sushi for dinner.”
Oh lord have mercy.
York bit down so hard he almost broke the skin. North coughed and elbowed South. Connie buried her face in Maine’s shoulder who was doing his damndest not to smile. Wyoming snorted. Florida smiled widely.
Wash stared at them weirdly. “You guys are acting fishy.”
Someone choked.
Carolina rolled her eyes but took mercy on them. She nodded at the stairs. “Put your things away so we can leave,” she ordered.
Wash gave them one more confused look and retreated up the stairs.
Carolina turned her attention to South. She gave the blonde a flat look. “Was that really necessary?”
South’s innocent look was ruined by her shit-eating grin. “Was what worth it?”
“Unbelievable,” she muttered and tossed her cards on the table before exiting the house.
A beat.
“...twenty bucks that he returns the truck with the shark still attached.”
“Done.”
“Why is it that we’re always waiting on the rookie?” Wyoming scowled.
York rolled his eyes. They had only been at the restaurant for fifteen minutes and Wyoming had spent the last twelve of it complaining, much to everyone’s aggravation.
It was their last day on Earth before they were scheduled to return to the Mother of Invention and as one last final hurrah, they all opted to go to dinner at some hole in the wall diner. It was also about two weeks since the incident when the prank was almost uncovered, and somehow to York’s delight, Wash hadn’t noticed a thing.
“He texted to let us know he got stuck in traffic,” Florida reminded, expertly twirling a knife around his fingers. “He should be here any minute.”
“Or now.” Carolina jutted her chin out the window where they could see Wash’s truck pulling in.
York watched, bemused, as Wash hightailed it into the restaurant and spotted them immediately. He made a beeline for them and practically threw himself into the seat reserved for him.
“Sorry I’m late,” he panted. “There was awful traffic, then I got stuck behind this really slow driver who wouldn’t move.”
Connie winced. “At least, you’re here now.”
“Bloody finally,” Wyoming grumbled.
Carolina reached over and smacked him on the back of his head. Wyoming squawked indignantly and rubbed the tender spot, but he got the point.
Serves you right, York thought, satisfied.
“Oh, hey,” Wash said, like nothing happened. “I gotta question for you guys.”
“Shoot,” North said.
“Have you guys noticed it’s been smelling really fishy lately?” Wash asked.
Everybody froze. South made a snrt sound and North discreetly kicked her.
“I didn’t think much of it at first,” Wash continued, not noticing the change in the atmosphere. “Because we’re right next to the ocean but it’s been really strong for a week. So is it just me or is it smelling really fishy?”
York broke first. He made a little chuckle and once that happened, he couldn’t close the floodgates. The chuckle grew until he was laughing uproariously.
It didn’t take long for everyone else to follow suit. Everyone was in various states of hysteria that showed no sign of stopping anytime soon. Hell, South almost fell out of her chair several times because she was laughing so hard.
Poor Wash was so confused. “What?” he asked. “What did I say?”
York shook his head, unable to speak. So he simply point out the window at Wash’s truck.
Wash looked out the window with a puzzled look before his eyes went huge and his jaw dropped. He stared at the shark that was almost entirely in view, hanging in by a few pieces of tape and prayer.
“That’s why I’ve been smelling fish for weeks?!” he demanded, sending everyone into bigger fits of laughter. Wash scowled. “Man, fuck you guys.”
Wyoming reached over and patted Wash on the shoulder in a rare moment of pity.
It had taken everyone ages to stop laughing, and even longer for Wash to stop sulking and only because York bought him dessert.
After dinner and a few rounds of drinks, they left the dinner and trudged into the parking lot, intending to get back to the houses to get as much sleep as they could before they left. Though as York walked to his truck and snickered at the sight of the shark (Wash shot him a downright murderous glare), he couldn’t help but think that this was his best prank yet.