"But that wasn't even the weirdest thing that happened. Wash. Grew. A beard." - Carolina
"You know, now that things have settled down a bit and we're not currently in the middle of any military conspiracies, planetary civil wars or any other crazy schemes, I think I'll grow a beard," Wash declared one morning at the communal breakfast table, as he scrubbed curiously at the stubble clinging at his cheeks.
"You? A beard? No way, that's crazy," Carolina replied with an amusing tone from across the way. She took a sip of her coffee and grinned at him over the brim of her mug.
"Wow, thanks for the support there, Lina. I think I could pull it off, though. Tell her, Sarge, I could pull off a full grown beard. I got pretty close when we were with the Feds."
Sarge looked up from his newspaper and peered at Wash over his reading glasses. No one quite knew how the old man was able to find a newspaper on an isolated island on an isolated moon, much less one made of actual paper when they were living in a purely technological age, but both teams had just learned not to question it.
"Sure you can, Wash. A beard is the ultimate show of manliness! Any man who's worth his manhood has a manly beard, just like Abraham Lincoln or Tom Hanks in Castaway. Everyone except Grif, of course."
Sarge angrily point his thumb at Grif, and the orange soldier looked up from his overflowing bowl of Lucky Charms (that was somehow mostly marshmallows) and proudly ran his thick fingers through his own scruffy beard.
"If it didn't eventually start catching on the helmet, I would never shave at all," Griff said, blissfullt
"Well, can you at least wash it every now and then? I keep finding crumbs in it and it grosses me the fuck out," complained Simmons from the chair beside him. The half-cyborg was scrolling down a datapad, and hadn't looked up at all.
"You say that about everything about me," countered Grif, turning and waving his spoon.
"That's because you're a goddamn pig!"
The two began bickering as they were wont to do.
Wash, far too used to it, turned to his fellow teammates.
"So what do you think, Caboose, Tucker? Think I'd look good with a beard?"
"Will you find a parrot and start talking like a pirate?" Caboose asked with enthusiasm. He took a large gulp of his orange juice and stared down Wash with wide blue eyes.
"Caboose," Wash sighed like an exasperated parent, pinching at the bridge of his nose. "I keep telling you, there probably isn't any buried treasure on this island, and if there was, I'm sure between the water park and the Great Dinosaur-Robot War it would have been unearthed already."
"But if we can just find the big X on the ground somewhere, I'm sure we-!"
"Tucker, your thoughts?" Wash interrupted, turning to the other soldier who was leaning casually back in his chair.
Tucker shrugged into his own cup. "Could be kinda hot, I guess."
"Alright," Wash declared to the room at large, throwing out his hands and grinning. "Looks like it's decided, I'm growing a beard!"
No one answered. Carolina huffed with amusement and shook her head. Grif and Simmons continued arguing, ignoring Wash completely.
It had been a while since Wash had last shaved his face (counting days wasn't exactly a priority on their island, although they did occasionally consult Lopez's internal clock for reference) and he was feeling… actually pretty good. A decent amount of scruffy brown and patchy grey hair now adorned his face, and Wash was quite proud of it.
He stood outside the shared red and blue base they'd constructed from the burned remains of their nice old bases, helmet off and just enjoying the sun as it crawled towards the horizon. He ran a hand across his new beard. There was no denying that it made him he feel grizzled and manly (not that he'd ever let Sarge know that, he'd never hear the end of it), and it even matched surprisingly well with the scars on his face. Wash was quite liking the aesthetic of it all. He was considering investing in a flannel shirt and an axe.
But it also had the downside of making him look far, far older than he actually was.
"What's up, grandpa?" came Tucker's voice from behind him. Wash sighed.
"Please stop calling me that," he said, resignedly.
Tucker came up behind him and threw an arm around Wash's neck, grinning a face-splitting grin at Wash's raised eyebrows.
"Aw come on, gramps, lighten up," said the teal soldier. Wash rolled his eyes at him, fondly.
"I think it's long enough to be considered an actual beard now. So come on, tell me what you think now?"
Tucker narrowed his eyes thoughtfully and darted them up and down Wash's face, appraising it. He reached out and gently turned the ex-Freelancer's chin towards him, brushing his own gloved hands across the beard as well.
"Is it 'hot' like you thought it was gonna be?" asked Wash.
"Oh, hell yeah," his boyfriend replied. "Hot as fuck, dude. I was kinda worried you'd turn out looking like a hobo, but nah. One last test, though."
Tucker pulled Wash's face down towards him, and roughly kissed the ex-Freelancer's cheek. Wash felt heat rise in his face, while Tucker recoiled with a look of disgust.
"Okay, not doing that again. Your beard is fucking itchy, dude, I think I'm gonna get rug burn by just by looking at it."
Wash blinked and then scoffed.
"What are you talking about? It's not itchy, it's magnificent. Manly, like Sarge said. How can you say it's itchy, why would you say that?" said Wash defensively.
"Dude, just feel it. You know I'm right."
Now irritated and offended, Wash pulled off his glove and once again ran his fingers through his (not itchy, definitely amazing) beard.
"I just don't know what you mean, it feels fine," Wash retorted. He crossed his arms resolutely, trying to ignore the slight scratch that he now felt on his jaw. Tucker wasn't right.
"Stop pouting and just admit it, Wash," Tucker said to him with a triumphant grin. He clapped Wash twice on the shoulder and turned to walk away.
"I am not pouting," pouted Wash after him. He decided against childishly stomping his foot to accentuate his point. That would not help his argument in the long run.
"You are, and it's fucking adorable you big doof!" Tucker yelled over his shoulder.
Wash harrumphed. He turned back to survey the landscape before him, from the green hills to the blue sea, the scorched remains of their old bases right down to the scarred valley still littered with rusting robot bodies and the occasional dinosaur bone. This island had been good to them over the last few months.
He took a furtive look around to check no one else had snuck up on him, and when he found no one he reached up again with his bare hand and rubbed at his face.
"It feels…" he announced to the island at large, trying to come up with the right adjective. Bristled. Wiry. A feat of manly testosterone.
"…itchy. God, it is itchy," he conceded. He scratched at the scruff with his bare fingers, and then glanced over at Tucker's retreating back. "…goddamnit, Tucker."
This whole episode had me in stitches. I love it and I just HAD to write some Tuckington about the beard thing.
Gah, RvB15 is so good so far! Unfortunately, some fuckery has gone down with my FIRST subscription so I haven't seen the latest, but still! New writer's doing good.