Wash swam back to consciousness with his usual cocktail of a pounding headache, heavy limbs, and an overwhelming sense of regret for every single one of his life choices. The mattress sank down as someone sat on the edge of the bed next to his feet, and he had a moment of dizzying vertigo, like he was being sucked into a minor gravity well. Then Maine said, "Hospital."

"Grph," Wash said, which about summed up his feelings on the matter, and opened his eyes, squinting at the too-bright light that was racing into the room, ricocheting off the walls, and generally not being conducive toward anything approaching a restful and pleasant reawakening. He squinted disapproval, swallowed, and tried again. "Ow."

Maine, who looked equal parts terrifying and terrifyingly normal in his civvies, snorted. "Baby."

A moment passed while Wash's brain shoved his memory into high gear. "You!" he said.

Maine held his hands out palm-up and shrugged.

"No no no," Wash said, trying to push himself up on elbows that had apparently been replaced by wet noodles in his sleep. "I remember exactly what you did!"

With no undue haste, Maine got to his feet, turned, picked up a box, and dropped it onto Wash's chest. It was warm and smelled like all things good and wonderful in the world. Mainly it smelled like melted cheese. Maine said, "Sorry."

Wash stared at the pizza box for a full thirty-five seconds before he managed to drag his higher cognitive functions back online. "Oh, no. You're not getting out of this with a pizza."

Maine shrugged. "Good pizza."

"We got attacked and you picked me up and threw me at the bad guy!"

Another shrug. "Seemed like the easiest option."

Wash glared. Maine stared back, eyes wide and innocent. The pizza's heat was pressing down on Wash's chest through the thin blanket. With an effort, he managed to raise his hand enough to point at Maine. "I am never going on shore leave with you again."

"Said I was sorry," Maine said, and reached out to tap the top of the pizza box.

Wash was having trouble keeping the edge in his voice; the smell of pizza kept dulling it down. "Oh, and I suppose you'll be hopelessly crushed if I don't accept your peace offering. Cry into your pillow every night."

Without changing his expression, Maine sniffled.

"You're terrible," Wash grumbled, and shuffled back against his pillows so he could open the pizza box. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Maine edging toward the door. He opened the box just as Maine broke and ran, sprinting off into the hallway.

"Are these anchovies?"