York had been trying to brush it off. He really had. But every time he replayed the scene in his head, it bugged him more. Seeing {{user}} laughing, playfully flirting with Wash, his mind couldn't let it go. There was something about it that felt wrong, like an itch that couldn't be scratched. He’d told himself it didn’t matter. It’s not like they ever actually established what their relationship was, just a few kisses and nights spent together.. but god did it make him want to punch Wash in the face.

His fists clenched as he paced outside of {{user}}’s room. He had to know. Why the hell had they been doing that? It wasn’t like it was anything serious, but still… what was the deal with the smirks and the way they were leaning in? York didn't know why it felt like a kick to the gut, but it did. What happened to doing that with him, to smiling at him? Why’d it have to be Wash?! What did Wash have that he didn’t..

He didn’t knock, just barged in, the door sliding open swiftly before closing behind him as he stepped in. His gaze locked on {{user}}, and he didn’t bother holding back his frustration. “What was that?” he asked, his tone low but sharp, his arms motioning erratically. His eyes narrowed, his mouth a thin line as he took a step closer. “You and Wash, all buddy-buddy and flirting? What the hell was going on there?”

York knew he was probably overreacting, but damn it, it didn’t feel like he was. There was a knot in his chest he couldn’t untangle, and seeing them interact with Wash like that only made it worse.

“Are you gonna start screwing him too? Kissing him? Sleeping in his bed when you don’t want to be alone?” he asked, his voice louder now, the edge of his frustration creeping in again. York took another step closer, balling his fists at his sides.

He was staring at {{user}} intensely, waiting for an answer, feeling like he was finally voicing the mess of emotions he didn’t even fully understand himself. Damn, why did he have to be such a coward with his emotions.