(Tumblr request for Wash and Eleven in handcuffs by anonymous. Written 12.3.12.)
"You know, you'd think that they'd lock us up in separate cells once they got their hands on us."
"They probably like watching spouses fight."
"Well, they're getting their wish," I huffed, squirming against the restraints. "You are an idiot. We would have made it out safely if you hadn't triggered that alarm."
Wash and I sat in chairs facing opposite directions, our wrists attached together behind our backs.
"Well, maybe if you hadn't been so focused on getting out of here so fast, we would have been able to sneak out quietly!" he responded irritably.
"Oh, don't give me that," I growled. "You know as well as I that we're under time constraints. We were supposed to meet at the rendezvous point twelve minutes ago with the documents!"
"Yeah, well, arguing about this isn't going to make us escape any faster," Wash retorted. He yanked his hands against the bindings covering our wrists, sighing in frustration. "Let's just— let's just think of a way out of this."
"You're surprisingly calm for a captive, you know," I commented. "I hope you realize that you'd be panicking if we were still working at Project Freelancer."
"Well, I'd hope that a man would have matured in twenty years," Wash replied dryly. "It's a wonder you stuck around with me this long at all."
"I ask myself the same question every day." I fidgeted with our wrists again, tugging at the bindings. "I think they just attached us together with rope. Do you still have your knife?"
"No. They took that from me."
I furrowed my brow, looking down at what the goons hadn't taken of my armor. My leg armor caught my eye and I grinned suddenly. "Well, I think we're in luck. But I'm going to need you to reach toward my thigh."
Wash chuckled. "You should say that to me more often."
"My blade is there," I retorted, rolling my eyes. "Beneath my armor, near my hip. We just need to reach it."
Wash scooted his chair to my right, bending my left arm at an awkward (but not painful) angle and grunted, reaching toward my upper thigh. I tried shifting my hips in his direction, and he managed to unsheathe my small dagger from the secret compartment in my armor.
"Got it," he said quietly, cutting through the ropes quickly. However, as soon as I tried bringing my hands toward my front, I was jolted backward again.
"Shit," I muttered. I lifted my right hand as he raised his left. "Handcuffs too."
Wash sighed but said nothing, cutting his ankles loose from the legs of his chair and then releasing mine. We both stood up and I began picking the lock of the cell with the knife. It popped open easily— being friends with York all that time ago certainly had had its perks— and we peeked down the hallway before glancing at each other. The guards saw us poking our heads out of the hallway and jumped up, outraged.
"Oops." I laughed, turning to Wash. "Try to keep up, will you? I don't want to have to drag you along behind me, you old geezer."
"Likewise," Wash chuckled, planting a quick kiss on my cheek before we took off down the hallway. They would never catch us.
I hoped.