Authors Note: So, finally there again! Not much to say here besides the fact that I love to put Wash in weird/confusing and uncomfortable situations. He's just so hilarious.


Chapter 3: Morning After

Wash woke up from a headache. That wasn't exactly unusual. It happened rarely at that point but sometimes it still did. To describe it nicely it felt like a pelican was crash-landing inside his head. With a low groan Wash shifted. He didn't dare opening his eyes because he was sure the bright light would definitely kill his head. God, what on earth happened yesterday that he felt like shit?

Waking up and not right away knowing where he was, or at worse mornings not knowing who he was, wasn't that unusual either. Of course Wash never told that anyone and it happened really rarely at this time but still.

What was unusual however was the warmth. It was not how it usually was when you were huddled into the blanked. Or generally since it was really warm on Chorus at the time. He was feeling too beaten to move and so he tried to focus on the feeling instead of his throbbing head. That he was early with getting up didn't mean he was quick or easy in waking up. Two very different things. His head was killing the Freelancer even more when his brains started to proceed what he felt.

There was someone laying very close to him. He felt the warmth, the touch of and arm over him and he could smell the scent that was not his own.

Oh fuck.

Wash worked up the energy to crack his eyes open despite the blending light. He blinked a few times but he managed to focus then, seeing Tucker lay in front of him. The teal soldier was laying half on his stomach, back to the wall and face towards Wash and one arm loosely over his side. So alright, sure, they were sharing a room and Wash blurrily remembered how they played drinking games yesterday. But that didn't really explain anything at all. With another groan Wash closed his eyes again and buried his face in the pillow. He remembered they played never ever. From that point on he tried to narrate himself what happened after. Usually that did the trick. This time however all he got was worse headache and nothing else.

Jesus Christi, what happened?

After a moment Wash blinked his eyes open again and glanced at his sleeping teammate. Nope, that was so not okay. With another groan Wash took Tuckers arm and put it away from himself before he slightly shoved the younger. "Wake up."

That did absolutely nothing. So Wash shoved him a little harder. "Tucker, wake up." This got him a disapproving growl and then a groan as the younger turned on his back. "Fuck you… wanna sleep."

As this didn't help Wash lifted his head, ready to say something when he got a better look at his teammate. Of course he lay there without a shirt and since the thin blanked barely covered his lower half Wash was also sure he had no shorts on – like usually. What had to catch his attention, too, of course was the visible bulge from Tuckers morning boner under the blanket. Wash dropped his head back in the pillow. He liked to clarify that he really wasn't as much of a prudent as they probably all were thinking. But no, really, what did he do to wake up under these circumstances? He shoved Tucker a third time but now hard. "Tucker, wake up and get out of my bed, for gods sake", he grunted with his eyes still closed. Drinking so much after so many years definitely wasn't the best idea he had so far.

Tucker next to him shifted and sat up. Wash almost felt like sleeping the hangover out when the younger suddenly spoke up. "What the fuck, Wash? You are in my bed."

It took the Freelancers brain multiple seconds to actually understand these words. "Wait, what!?" Wash shot up in one quick movement and regretted it immediately because it felt like he hit his head against an iron bar or something. With a groan he dropped back down. "Oh Jesus…." the blonde muttered and then he heard how that asshole of Tucker actually laughed at him. "Seems like I'm not the only one in need for an aspirin." Wash thought he might need three or four but didn't mention it. Instead he slowly raised his head to look around and see that, yeah okay, he indeed was in Tuckers bed.

"Oh god... what the fuck?" Washington bit back whatever else on curses came to his mind and just tried to make his head stop spinning. He sat up slowly, pressing a hand against his forehead. "You look really hung over, dude", Tucker said next to him and Wash shot him a glare. "I am really hung over, okay?" he returned and was actually somehow pleased that Tucker looked rather hung over too. "But why on earthy am I in your bed?" let alone with Tucker huddled so close to him?

Tucker – who surprisingly had the decency to cover himself with the blanked – frowned at him. "Wait… are you telling me you don't know? Like having a mental blackout again?" he asked somewhat incredulous and got another glare in return. "Why you think I'm asking?"

Tucker first frowned, then seemed to think before he grinned. "Okay, see, I'm not really happy with how we wake up and don't know why. But I'm kinda glad I'm not the only one who has no clue", he said and Wash stared at him because there was no way he could be serious. "It means you were totally blasted too and you can't lecture me without being totally hypocritical."

Wash was considering Tucker for some moments, wondering if one could really be that simple. Then again... pretty much all his friends were that simple. So yeah, probably. Wash got up then, taking a moment before he started walking because everything was still swaying slightly. "Okay. Whatever. I think I need a shower now." Wash decided then and left the room, without noticing Tuckers unsure and concerned gaze on his back.

In the hallway he met Donut who was once again far too cheery and still just in civvies. "Oh, hi Wash!" He greeted the Freelance as he came to a stop. "Man, you look hung over." Wash just run his hands over his face, then through his tousled hair with a sigh. "Really? Thanks for pointing it out", he replied with a tang of irony that usually passed most of the sim troopers. "No problem, Wash. Anyway, have you seen Sarge?"

Wash only shook his head. "No, I haven't. I just got up."

Donut left after that and Wash finally disappeared in one of the two small bathrooms. He saw that the mirror was broken but apparently the shards were already cleaned up. Great, who did do that again? Ignoring it for now the Freelancer slipped out of his pants, briefly wondering what happened to his shirt. Where the heck was it? Never mind now.

The warm water from the shower was helping. He still had a headache but he didn't feel quite like coming back from the death or anything anymore (really, he knows what it feels like). While the water was streaming over his body, Wash still tried to remember. He couldn't stop wondering what happened. Because he saw no logical explanation on why on earth he would be sleeping in Tuckers bed with him.

He remembered they played Never Ever and things got a little weird. Grif had been a dick and Wash also remembered very clearly that he showed the guy the middle finger. Well, he usually didn't do such immature stuff (anymore) but Grif deserved it. He helped Tucker up the stairs then because he was so drunken, right. He waned to sleep and Tucker had been annoying. Okay so far. Wash leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, just listening to the water. Don't try to force memories back. That never was a good idea. Like always when he was relaxing and getting his thought off things the first to enter his mind was a blond woman, smiling.

Allison. She wasn't his memory.

The next thing was blurry when it settled in. They had been laying on his bed. Tucker annoyed him. Then kissed him. Three times until Wash kissed back. The memory is kind of blurry but strong nonetheless. He remembers the touches, the kisses. How heated the making out suddenly got. Wash snapped his eyes open because he also remembers Tuckers hand between his legs and how it made him feel hot yet making a defense mechanism kicking in to punch the younger.

Jesus fuck, right. He made out with Tucker. And right now Wash wasn't sure if it was making things better or worse that he, at the beginning, kind of liked it (really, he could be honest with himself). Thing was, he also remembered shouting at Tucker because he was pissed of about the teal soldier being an ass. And he showed him the middle finger, too. Great.

The worst was that it wasn't helping him at all. The last thing he remembered now was leaving for a cold shower. And that didn't explain why they were on Tuckers bed. They made out on his bed, he was sure. He was also sure that Tucker at least had his shorts on and he definitely still had his shirt.

So this was just fucking great. And apparently Tucker didn't even remember that. Okay, that was maybe better because Wash rather would know nothing at all, too, instead of half of it.

When Wash left the bathroom after the shower that turned out longer that intended, he found Tucker right in front of the door. Right now he was really glad the guy stopped at least to run around naked outside the room. They just passed each other without a word. Sure, he and Tucker never really managed to get a normal relationship of any kind with each other. It was always kind of awkward. But the Freelancer had the bad feeling it would get to a whole new level now.

He headed to their shared room to switch to another pair of sweatpants and a new shirt. It was years ago since he spent a day out of armor. He usually only took it of at night and also only when they were somewhere safe like the base. But he was really lacking the energy for that now which actually said a lot about how shitty he felt at the moment thanks to the hangover. On top of that Grey insisted anyway he should take it easy for a few more days. And after seeing her lecture Carolina and hearing her singing opera while torturing the pirate he really didn't feel like getting on her bad side.

So Wash headed down to the kitchen with a towel still over his shoulder. Only Grif and Simmons were around yet and they stopped their arguing over healthy or tasty breakfast when he stepped in. "Morning Wash", Simmons said while Grif just frowned and scratched his upper arm. "Morning", Wash returned and started looking for a pan to boil some water. Caboose broke the water boiler the other day. "Man, you look hung over as shit", Simmons stated then and Grif snorted in amusement. "Yeah, I know. That's' because I am hung over as shit", Wash returned dryly as he dropped on a chair opposite to the two after he put up some water. "Gosh, why do you people have to point it out all the time?"

Today sure was going to be one of these days, he could already tell. While still wondering why he even got up the Freelancer held his head in one hand. His head ached and he still wasn't sure what happened, god damn it. While waiting for the water to start boiling, Washs gaze somehow landed on Simmons still human hand. He was jockeying with Grif for the remains of the milk. Wash saw his knuckles were bruised and slightly cut open. He remembered the bathroom mirror.

And then there was a memory more fading in.

Wash was still pissed as he walked to the end of the floor with quick steps, wanting to yank the bathroom door open and get a cold shower. But the door was locked and so he had to suppress the urge to kick against it. Great! The only thing that slowed Wash down a little was the sound of someone… blubbering. Only after a few seconds the Freelancer realized that it was Simmons. And even though Wash actually preferred not to stick his nose in other peoples stuff he usually would say something now. But right now he felt absolutely not up to it so he backed away, went down the stairs and into the other bathroom.

"What are you looking at?" The question from Grif pulled Wash back into the reality. He glanced up to see that the orange soldier stopped in his movement. It looked ridiculous how he reached for the milk pack in Simmons hand. Especially since he was rather short and Simmons tall. So he had no chance to get it even if he already half leaned onto the maroon soldier.

"I think I just remembered where I left my shirt."

Grif and Simmons exchange glances because it indeed was odd what Wash just said.

"Uh... yeah. So?"

He came out of the bathroom, his shirt still on the ground there. He felt better now, cooled down from the rather icy shower. But he was till confused and sort of pissed. And not in the mood to go upstairs and in bed. When he crossed the Living room he only now noticed Grif still sitting there, lazily nipping at a bottle of alcohol.

"Grif", he said, making the younger look up in annoyance. "Err, I think Simmons is upstairs in the bathroom. Uh, crying."

Grif blinked at him. "Uh… yeah. So?"

Wash frowned deeper and rubbed now with both hands over his temples. Maybe he should look for aspirin or something. Grif meanwhile let go of Simmons and scratched his chest before he leaned over the table. "Dude", he said in a kind of voice Wash didn't like.

"Don't tell me you aren't just hung over but also having a black out." Wash returned the almost gleeful look with a glare. "I remember you being a prick and me giving you a one-finger salute. And because you deserved it, I'm still not sorry about it at all", he replied bluntly. Grif blinked at him for a second and even stopped the scratching before he grinned widely and leaned back in the chair. "Fuck you", he said with way too much humor in his voice. "Wash, you are a lot more amusing when either hung over or drunken."

The Freelancer shot Grif another glare but had no time to say anything because the water was boiling. So Wash got up to finally get his coffee ready. That was when Tucker suddenly entered the kitchen, too. "What a bullshit, does anyone have a steak for me or something?" he asked.

"Holy shit, dude, what happened to your eye?" asked Grif and Wash glanced at his teammate. He hadn't noticed before but even despite Tuckers dark skin he could see how a bluish bruise flowered around his left eye.

"I don't know, man", the teal soldier replied and went to the fridge to look for something to cool his eye. "But it hurts." He didn't find a stake of course but the pack with frozen greenstuff did the work too. With the cool pack pressed against his face Tucker turned around and leaned against the fridge. "Did you try to sneak in Carolinas bed or something?" wondered Grif while grinning oddly. Also, he now was scratching his leg.

Simmons snorted. "I think she would be more likely to crush his balls if he did so. And urgh, Tucker! That's unhygienic! I dare you if you put that back in the fridge!"

Tucker ignored Simmons protest and grumbled: "My head and eye are killing me. So I don't really care. Also, I'm sure I wasn't after Carolina. I would be dead now." Wash passed him with the mug of coffee and sat down at the table again, crossing his arms on it. He and Tucker said hardly a word to each other since waking up. But considering their uneven relationship Tucker was sure no one would think of that as weird. Anyway… "Where is everyone else?"

Grif shrugged. "Sarge and Grey are still... somewhere. Donut is looking for them. And I think Carolina left already to meet with Kimball and Doyle."

"And what about-"

"GOOD MORNING EVERYONE!"

If it hadn't been them being them, hell would have broken lose just in the very moment. Caboose – being the only one fully in armor so far – stormed with his assault rifle inside the kitchen. But they were sort of used to that shit so the only one to flinch was Wash, though for an entirely different reason than being alerted. "Not so loud, Caboose! Please."

"Sorry", the blue armored said in his usual stage-whisper. "Has anyone seen Church? He promised to play with Freckles and me." They all knew Caboose was laying. Okay, probably he just misunderstood something again but either way, Church probably wasn't planning on playing with Caboose. But Tucker grinned nonetheless. "Oh, he sure is playing hide and seek with you again. You should hurry and look for him. I think Carolina went to see Kimball", he told his teammate, making him storm off as excited as he stormed in. Hey, Tucker had to find some way to get back at Church for all the shit, right? His attention however soon was brought back to the three guys at the table. Wash was drinking from his coffee and Simmons watched this with an eye ridge raised. "I don't think that will help against your headache."

"Probably not. But it help's my nerves."

"Your nerves? You can't be upset about stuff you don't even remember anymore", Grif joked while constantly scratching his arm. "Say Grif, you have a reason for being a pain in my neck today of all the times?"

"Well, yeah. You always act so high and mighty and masterfully as shit. So sure, it's pretty amusing seeing you all logy and bushed." Tucker could see how Wash rolled his eyes until you only saw white. He did that a lot. "Yeah, yeah, go ahead with the gloating", he replied dryly and put his head back on his arms. "Just do it quietly."

"I gotta go with Grif on that one. Funny how you wail over a hangover while you brush of blows and stuff as if it was nothing. Like back at Sidewinder."

This time Wash didn't even bother to look up at Simmons when he muttered: "That was different."

Tucker snorted in amusement at the conversation. The cool greenstuff really did a lot to help his hurt eye. Simmons was right though. Back at Sidewinder Wash hardly let his injuries affect him, let alone complain about it. If Tucker hadn't seen it, he wouldn't have believed how bad off the Freelancer actually was. Wash was right though, too. It was different in so far that for him, it had pretty much been a life or death moment. Which, in a way, made this scenario somehow like something good. Well sure, Wash was totally hung over and apparently had no clue what happened last night. But he was relaxed and lax enough to sit around them in civvies while almost falling asleep with the head on the table. That was a huge difference to the Washington Tucker first got to know. And he thought that was a good thing. Wash was always kinda stung up and stuff.

But he seemed okay lately. Like not just dealing with stuff but really okay.

Tuckers eyes then fell on the back of Washs neck. Not like he had much of a clue about all the Freelancer and A.I shit but he knew the scar there was from Epsilons implantation. At least the one that was neat and about two inch long. And even with the very little information he had about it Tucker didn't need much fantasy to imagine that the smaller scars around and over it weren't from the transplantation. What he wondered was if Wash really didn't care if everyone could see it now or if he wasn't even quite aware.

Gah, he shouldn't be thinking so much about stuff like that. Wasn't good. Especially focusing more on Wash than necessary at the moment was a bad idea. His head hurt enough as it was. Thinking about hurting heads. "Hey Grif… how comes you are so cheery? You drunk a lot too", Tucker asked to one, get his mind off from Wash and two, because he really wondered. "Mh? Oh, I had a fucking horrible headache. But I went to look for something in Greys stuff. Found some Painkillers or so. Does a pretty great work", the Hawaiian replied while still scratching pretty much everywhere. Simmons rolled his eyes and Wash lift his head enough to glance at him. "Dude, I want one too", exclaimed Tucker right away.

Wash meanwhile squinted at Grif. "Is that the reason why you are scratching all the time?"

Grif, scratching his thigh now, shrugged. "Meh. Probably."

"I told him that stuff could be dangerous or having side effects. But nooo, he wouldn't listen", Simmons remarked.

"Dude, in that case I don't want it."

Grifs scratching got more intense and he started to frown. Suddenly he turned around to Simmons with a very serious expression. "Hey Simmons? I think I got a rash... You should probably look at it." Tucker couldn't stop from breaking into laughter as Simmons shot Grif an incredulous glare followed by a hysterical 'what!?' while Wash dropped his head again, muttering something about going back to bed.


A little later they were done with breakfast and Grif somehow convinced Simmons to look at the rash. Wash decided to go and sleep his hangover out and Tucker decided that sleeping was a good idea. Not that anyone was around anyway.

He was kind of reluctant to follow Wash though. Because it was kind of awkward how he woke up in the same bed as the Freelancer. And Tucker wasn't sure if he was up to talk about it yet. If they ever would, that is. Wash was clueless and so maybe it was for the better. It started out good actually, then took a turn for the worst and in the end… not much happened after that because Wash was completely maggoty after he came back again so yeah.

When Tucker stepped into their room he saw how Wash pulled the old dusty curtains close. He didn't do more than cast him a glance. Yeah, kind of awkward. Tucker saw how Wash went towards his bed and he found himself talking once again before thinking. "Uh, hey Wash?" The older turned around and gave Tucker a questioning look. He hated it if Wash looked at him oh so fucking plainly that he had no clue what the guy was thinking. It made him feel really uneasy and nervously shift his weight.

"Tucker?" That was more a demand than a concerned question.

"Er… just wanted to mention that you might wanna change the bee sheets before you go to sleep", Tucker said slowly. Not because he was being sheepish or anything. But Wash was kinda not the guy who was all too receptive when talking about dirty and indecent stuff so yeah.

But of course Wash gave him a confused frown. Tucker scratched the back of his head. "They might be kinda, uh, sticky." Now Wash stared at him. Oh boy. "Not like I meant to. Uh, not really. I mean I sorta got carried away and... uhm…" Wash was still staring at Tucker wordlessly which, y'know, was a bad thing.

"It was an accident, really! Uh, sort of. Okay… well, maybe not so much but anyway. It was a one time thing, I swear. See, I just… eh…"

"Tucker."

Oh-Uh, that's the premonitory tone that never ever means anything good. Tucker started to gesture a bit wilder than necessary.

"Look, I'm sorry. But at least I thought about you! ... Er, I mean that you were going to sleep there again so-"

"Tucker", Wash said again, warningly. "I swear to god, if you say just one word more about this right now I'm so gonna-"

"Okay, okay! Sorry! I uh, go and watch some television or so", the teal soldier babbled and then left the room very quickly, letting Wash stand there alone.

Wash stood there a few seconds before he took a deep breath and sighted, rubbing his hands over his face. He glanced at his bed then. Gross. Fucking gross. Nothing against whacking off by itself. But god damn it, why couldn't Tucker at least do it in his own bed!?

Because he happened to be left sitting there when he was fucking horny, his brain supplied helpfully.

Wash feels his face heat up slightly. There was an odd mix of irritation and embarrassment coming up inside of him. He had a pretty good idea what Tucker had been thinking about.

Oh god.

And that was when something else clicked in Washs mind. If Tucker remembered jerking off on his bed that meant Tucker sure as hell also remembered what happened at least up to that point.

"You little piece of shit."


Authors Note: Yeah so one chapter to go. The big revelation is still open. And yeah, I realized Wash says 'Tucker' a lot.