A/N from A.C.: Happy lovey kissy moment at the end of this. XD

York had gotten the medic to agree to do surgery on Wash in return for a promised favor. As the medic shuffled through her bags for needles, thread and her other surgical supplies, York had been sitting on the floor, knees to his chest and forehead on his knees. He was desperately trying to not tear up at the painful memories, and not to grin at the happy ones. He didn't want to show any emotion toward this horrible incident.

The loud bangs and crashes kept triggering flashbacks of Wash and York together, happy and laughing. Either cooking their dinners, helping the people in the freelancer mess hall or just playing around. But they also flashed him back to painful ones, full of the awful abuse they took at the freelancer base.

One, was possibly the worst York could remember,

Shortly after Michigan had found out, and told everyone about York and Wash, rumors were spreading like wildfire. York and Wash's missions were both given to different soldiers until they could get their thoughts together. York was laying on his cot, alone in a room he shared with Agent Tennessee. His eyes were red and puffy and his bottom lip was trembling. York was trying to gather his thoughts when he let out a choked sob.

Wash heard the noise when he was passing the room to get to his own. He cracked open the door and saw the man in distress laying on the bed, lightly quivering and trying not to sob again. York's eyes were tightly closed, trying to imagine things that were not what was around him at the moment.

Wash crept into the room and walked over to the cot, he crouched beside York and spoke softly.

"York, are you alright?"

The freelancer rolled over in bed and groaned, "Tenn, please go away, I'm not in the mood."

Wash spoke louder this time, "Tenn? It's Wash, dumbass!"

"Whoever you claim to be, I don't care, just leave." The cold voice sent Wash's mind spinning as a sudden sharp pain got to his heart.

"York, just look at me, do you think I honestly care what those asses think about us? I care about you, not my reputation."

The man on the cot shifted, rolling around to face the older man. His teary eyes looked into Wash's clear hazel ones. York heaved a heavy sigh, and coughed out another sob. He shook his head lightly, and sat up, staring intently at the floor between his feet.

"York, the base's floors are not really all that interesting. Look at me..." Wash brought his hand out to York's face and gently swiped away a tear trailing from his eye. His hand traveled down to York's jaw and under his chin. Wash gently rose York's head and made the tear-stained eyes look at him.

York wiped under his nose with the sleeve of his sweatshirt and sighed. He gave in, the teary man jumped into Wash's arms relishing the feeling of them, sinking into them. Wash fell to the floor on his back, a shocked expression on his face when York jumped at him. The smaller man was laying on top of Wash, looking down at him. In a quick movement York bent his head down and stole a passionate kiss from Wash, their lips joining together and breaking apart to deepen the loving kiss. Wash closed his eyes into the kiss, relishing at how forceful York had been.

The two broke apart at the sound of the dorm's metal door smashing into the wall. Tennessee was standing in the doorway, in his training clothes - a tank-top and sweatpants. His hand was still out where it was when he pushed the door open.

"What the hell are you two fags doing in MY room!" He screeched.

"Tenn! It's my room too!" York yelled, hopping up from his spot, strangely not taken aback by the harsh word used by his roommate.

Wash, however, jumped up and tackled Tennessee to the ground. The larger man caught Tenn in the stomach with his fist, all of the air jumped from Tenn's lungs, leaping out of his gasping mouth. Wash's hands clamped around the man's throat and held tight.

"Don't EVER call us by that word AGAIN." He hissed, venom lining his voice.

"Won't! I... I... Won't!" Tennessee managed to choke out.

Wash climbed off of the gasping man under him, and calmly walked to York. The other man had been standing where he had jumped up when Tennessee walked in. His expression was of pure horror.

The recovery agent took York's hand in his and smiled sweetly. "York, c'mon, let's go."

"York! York! C'mon! Snap out of it!" Eliza's voice met York's ears like a cannon blast.

"What?"

"It's Wash, he's loosing to much blood, get my gauze hurry, we need to wrap his head and try and prevent more bleeding. Hurry up!"

York ran into the spare bedroom and frantically searched around for the medical bag that Eliza had left in there. The large medical bag was sitting near the still blood-stained cot.

"York! Hurry, he's losing too much blood!"

"I have the bag! I'm getting there as fast as I can!"

York shifted his weight and slung the medical bag over his shoulder. He hefted the bag over to the closed bathroom door and pushed it open with his shoulder. York walked to the small tub and to Eliza, setting the bag down beside her.

"We need to get this done fast, then maybe I can get some extra blood from a soldier here to give to Wash."

"Don't you need the same blood type he has to transfer it?" York asked as he opened the bag and handed her a needle and medical thread.

She gratefully took it from him and set the skull bone into place firmly before she started to sew the skin over it. The medic made quick and accurate swipes with the needle and thread, talking to York as she worked.

"Yes, you do." She began, not sparing a look to York."His blood type is O positive, and most of the men stationed here are, too.

"Wait, how-?"

"How'd I know that? Call to command when you were out of the room." She gave a smirk, still not turning from her work. She made a few last stitches and looked to York, keeping a hand on Wash's head, "Hand me the gauze would you?"

"Yeah, sure..." York reached into the bag and took out a large bundle of cloth, handing it over to the medic. "How's he holding up?"

"He'll survive if we can get a soldier here to donate some blood to him."

"Will he make it?" Wash asked, looking to York on the bunk in his room.

"Yes, yes." The freelancer base's medic replied. "He'll make it, just make sure he gets plenty of liquids and that he takes his medicine. It was only the flu, but a bad one... I'm glad you called me." He looked to York, then to Wash, "If you'd have just let him wait and get better, I don't think he would've have made it through..."

"It was that bad, huh?"

"Yes, in retrospect it was." He sighed, "Has he ever gotten injured or sick before on a mission?"

"Not since the eye incident. Well, and just this last mission, he just leaned over and threw up into the bushes. I had to call command and get different agents out there."

"Does private Smith have the right blood type? He said he'd help with anything."

"Smith..? I'll have to check..." She responded, tightly wrapping the gauze around Wash's matted hair, keeping it from going into his eyes.

York had been a freelance for around two years, he hadn't been home since, and the closest thing to family that he had was Wash. York was laying on his back in his cot, Washington was hovering above him on his hands and knees. The larger freelancer had removed both of their shirts and was tracing his fingers over York's chest and biceps, making small invisible shapes. The smaller man shuddered into his touch, bringing his hand to the back of Wash's head and grabbing a fistful of hair. York pulled his lover's head down and brought Wash into a bruising kiss.

"Mmn..." Wash moaned at the kiss, pulling back he looked into York's eyes. "York, no matter what happens on ANY mission... I want to let you know, I'll always love you."

"And on any mission," He responded, "I'll protect you."

He brought Wash into another kiss, wrapping his arms around the older man's neck. After a few moments, he pulled back just slightly so their lips were still touching, "I love you, David..."

"Please, will you check?"