"Get lost Grif!" yelled Tucker form the roof of the blue base to the orange armored soldier down at the entrance.
"Why should I?"
"Because I have better things to do than argue with you!" retorted Tucker annoyed. The statement got answered by a shot, which hit the stone wall behind the base, missing Tucker for a mile.
"Missed, you cockbite, how about aiming better!?"
"Shut up and hold still!"
"I'm standing still you idiot! And not even then you're hitting the target! Go home and make target practices!"
"Oh believe me, I have target practice today!"
"Oh yeah, and who's the teacher? Simmons? I bet he's the one practicing the target-thing! Bow chicka bow wow!" Tuckers face split in a huge grin under the teal helmet.
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. At least I have better stuff to do than having to be on watch out duty for nothing the whole day!"
"Oh like laying around and waiting for the sun to go down?" asked Grif, chocking the gun and putting it in the holster on the back.
"No, I'm waiting to hear how you get fucked by Simmons!" retorted the teal armored soldier smugly.
"At least I have sex!" commented Grif, then walking off as he noticed that it was of no use to argue with Tucker. Before rounding one of the boulders in almost in the middle of the canyon, Grif then turned around, yelling at the top of his lungs. "Better than got fucked by an alien you jerk!" and walking off.
The red toddled over to his base while Tucker only groaned and muttered something under his breath while observing Grif enter the red base through the rifle scope.
Wash had been staying in the background during the short but intense verbal clash. However, the last exclamation of Grif made Wash curious. Stepping up from the hallway which led from the base to the top of the base, he looked at Tucker. The teal armored soldier still was standing on the top of the base, observing the red army, cursing under his breath.
He didn't seem to have noticed that there was nothing going on at the red base.
"Reds are gone, you can stop spying through the scope like you want to kill them with your glare." Stated Wash, standing beside Tucker and looking to the red base without scope. He couldn't see much, only the grey concrete of the base which made a slight difference to the grey of the stone wall behind it.
"Yeah, yeah. Just waiting for Grif to peek out so I can shoot his fucking dumb grin off of his face."
"Since when are you so touchy when it comes to sexual things?" asked Wash with slight amusement displayed in his voice.
"Oh shut up. I'm not touchy. I just don't want Grif to make such idiotic comments about that. It's not because of sex. I love sex. Bow chicka bow wow!" Grunted Tucker, now finally giving up and putting the rifle down.
"And because of that you're getting all angry? I don't know you like that. Beside that you're getting angry because of the alien thing."
Tucker now put his rifle down glaring at Wash through his helmet. This jerk really was getting on his nerves. After Tucker now also him? Fuzzing about something he didn't even had been involved or around back then? He really should stop with this. He didn't know how it felt to have gotten knocked up. And even though he was the opinion that the best parent was a divorced one who saw his kid every weekend, he had developed some feelings for Junior.
At least he was his son. Or had been his son. Tucker grunted again, laying a hand on his belly.
"Never mind. I go down. 'm tired because of your fucking leg days." Grumbled Tucker, walking off before Wash was able to say something.
Going down to the base, he took a shower and, unlike other days, put on some boxers and a teal tank top to sit on the couch and watch a film. He didn't know exactly what he was watching, but he didn't care (It was Pacific Rim). As long as there were some bombastic special effects and lots of things blowing up, distracting him a bit.
He laid on his back, one arm under his head whilst the other laid on his belly. He enjoyed the film and didn't think of stopping watch the movie. Not until Wash appeared and sat down on the couch at his feet, using the small space left over.
The teal armored soldier assumed that he had put Caboose into bed some minutes before coming here. A steaming cup of coffee in his hands the Freelancer was looking at the TV and having some troubles following the story – What a wonder if he joined only some seconds ago.
"Dude, if you drink coffee now you won't be able to sleep."
"Who said I want to sleep? Thanks to you guys I have lots of work to do." Wash looked to Tucker over the edge of the cup. Tucker groaned.
"You should sleep, dude. You're going to collapse like that. That won't help anybody of us if you break down."
"If you help me I wouldn't have so much work."
"If you would let me slip the leg days I'd probably think of helping you."
"Well, then I guess I have to make some night shifts."
Tucker who had been bracing his weight on the under arms, let himself drop back on the couch with a groan.
"You devil! No, you're satan!"
"Nice to meet you." Retorted the Freelancer, taking another sip of the cup.
Looking to Tucker, he could see that his shirt had slipped up and revealed a fair shimmering scar on the abdomen of the dark tanned man.
"Does that have something to do with the alien-thing Grif mentioned?"
"Huh?" Tucker blinked, obviously he hadn't gotten what Wash meant.
Pointing at the scar with the right hand, where he also held the cup in, Wash added to his previous question. "The scar on your abdomen. Has that something to do with the alien-thing?"
"Yeah, more or less…" muttered Tucker, now noticing that there was no possibility to get away with that. Fucking Wash with his leg days. Fucking Wash for being so goddamn stubborn. The Freelancer didn't say a word, but Tucker felt almost coaxed into explaining it just by Wash looking at him.
"I got to find an alien sword. You know, that swishy, shwooshy, shwushy thing I have."
"Right."
"And the alien, which was supposed to get it, got fucking mad and forced us to help him with the quest."
"Because you had the sword."
"Don't interrupt me all the time, dude." Grumbled Tucker, looking at Wash with an annoyed expression on his face.
"Sorry, please continue."
"Well and during this quest, that fucking dick knocked me up. And my son, Junior, knocked me out some weeks later as he more or less clawed his way out of my belly. Literally. Fucking painful to give birth to a child. Even more when it's getting out some place, where it isn't supposed to get out." Absentmindedly the dark skinned man rubbed over the scar on his belly.
"And… what happened to him?" asked Wash after some moments a bit unsecure.
"He got blown up by Tex. Maybe it's for the best. Because he would have knocked up other people. Besides he didn't had such a good guy of a dad."
Wash didn't reply, just starring down on the cup in his hands. Tucker didn't blame him for that. He hadn't been around, so he wouldn't be able to judge what happened then. In fact, he was glad that Wash didn't judge it.
There was a long silence and even though Wash was so fucking pale, he got even paler as he suddenly seemed to get something important.
"Dude you look like me after the blood loss of Juniors birth." Remarked the teal armored soldier with a wicked grin.
The grey-yellow armored soldier coughed, putting the cup on the table. "Almost." Explained Wash.
There was a silence, before Wash then spoke up. "You know, before I came to Freelancer, I was on a planet in an anti-alien-defense-squad. Fighting against aliens and get them off the planet. But they always found a way back. However. There was a member of the platoon I was in. Josh if I recall correctly."
Tucker observed the Freelancer attentively, but didn't say a word. He had been the one bitching around when Wash interrupted. So he better shut up now.
"Suddenly, he got heavily sick. After getting back to base after being lost for some days. Luckily he didn't got killed. Anyway. He threw up all the time. It was worst in the morning."
Tucker smiled bitterly. That sounded familiar. It had been the same with him when the pregnancy with Junior started.
"Soon after getting so sick, he went to the infirmary and didn't return until I joined the Freelancers some weeks later. I guess I know now what happened to him."
"Getting knocked up by an alien. Bow chicka bow ow!" with a painful exclaim Tucker held his left shin, Wash just hit with the cup.
"I don't suspect being knocked up by an alien is something to make jokes about." Commented the grey-yellow armored soldier flatly.
"Dude, I got knocked up by an alien too." Retorted Tucker, rubbing the sore spot on his shin. "I guess I have the most right to make jokes about."
A wide grin split his face as Wash groaned. The Freelancer got up and brought the cup to the kitchen, muttering something about going to bed. With that mental image he wouldn't be able to work anyway.
"You want me to join? At least I can't knock you up!"
"Shut the fuck up and go to sleep for the love of god!" shot Wash back, the door to his room slamming shut some seconds later.
Tucker on the couch just began laughing out loudly, holding his belly because it began to hurt after some moments. This whole situation was so weird and fucked up, he couldn't help but laugh about the weirdness of it.