So this is the horrible bit of headcanon I have. This is unedited and ridiculous and I don’t even know, but what the hell. (Also it’s still the 22nd here okay.)
Everyone knows York’s a bad liar — everyone, no matter what he tries to do to get around it. Sure, he’ll offer his shoulder to anyone who needs it and listen to anything that’s shared with him, but when he’s asked about it later, he never fails to do the worst job of deflecting Wash has ever seen.
He’s good to spend time with, though, and Wash even gives him the first smile he’s managed in a couple of weeks when he catches him in the hall on the way back from morning training, nodding.
“Hey, you got anything left from last weekend?”
York looks up and promptly looks away, scratching the back of his head, and shakes it, quickly. “Huh? —Oh, no, man, I uh— you know, we ran out, remember?”
Wash’s brow furrows, and he pauses, watching him. “No we didn’t. You had a whole half a case left that you hid from Maine.”
York looks at him. Wash looks back. “—So where is it?” he asks finally.
“Oh, uh, I—” York laughs and scratches his neck, fidgeting a little. “I drank it.”
“You— what? When?”
“You know, the other day!” York waves his hand, eyes darting away from him again. “You were out!”
“I’ve been on base all week, York. You’re the one who just got back from a mission.”
“…Yeeeeeah, look, okay, it was a really long night, and— oh, is that the time? Sorry, ‘lina’s ‘specting me, gotta go!”
York darts off, and Wash stares after him, not entirely sure what just happened.