Wash blinks himself awake before dawn, a frustrated sigh passing his lips. He stands, paces, sits back down and makes one more last-ditch attempt at sleep before accepting his reality. His tired, zombie-ish reality. Dammit.
He doesn't leave the couch for the next hour, watching the sunshine filter in through the windows and coat the room in warm light. He runs his palms over his face, as if trying to smooth out the hollows under his eyes, and shuffles across the room for a glass of water.
Pulling a chair up against the counter, he sets his head down on his forearms and begins the painstaking process of pulling the nightmares from his brain.
When Tucker finally emerges from his cocoon he finds Wash asleep leaning on the counter. Tucker laughs quietly to himself and starts making coffee, humming some obnoxious top 40 song as he does so.
Wash stirs at the sound of footsteps on tile, but only murmurs something unintelligible under his breath and buries himself further into the formica in response.
"Wake up" Tucker gently shakes the blond's shoulder "I made you coffee with the socks on."
Wash just grumbles and bats his hand away "Goddammit Wash get up we're going to be late."
Wash slowly lifts his head, squinting against the unwelcome daylight. "Late for what?" He asks, words slurred slightly from the lingering pull of sleep.
"School, dumbass." Tucker tousles his boyfriend's (?) hair affectionately. "Spring break's over."
Wash's eyes go wide. "Shit." He's on his feet instantly, mind whirling at a thousand miles an hour.
"Wash," Tucker smiles teasingly at the other man. "We have an hour, I know you're impossible to get going on short notice." Wash expression changes from panic to slightly murderous. "At least you're awake though."
Wash half collapses against the counter. "Fuck you." He replies, dragging a hand down his cheek.
Tucker just snickers and darts into his room to get dressed
It takes Wash just under thirty minutes to get ready, brushing the lethargy from his body as he does so. He concludes this routine by hovering close to the door and pacing while trying to make sure he hasn't forgotten anything.
Tucker spends the last 10 minutes before they have to leave snickering at Wash's ridiculous pacing and at the knowledge that, though he doesn't know it, his phone is still sitting on the coffee table.
"What?" Wash snaps at him after a long while of being stared and laughed at.
"Forget anything?" Tucker asks innocently.
Wash looks down, frowning. "No?" He asks more than he answers.
Tucker just rolls his eyes and presses the phone into Wash's hand "Dumbass."
Wash sighs, a full shoulder slump of defeat. "Thanks." Tucker kisses his cheek and takes his hand as they leave the apartment "You need to get out more."
Wash scowls. "I'm not a hermit." He protests, even as Tucker leads him out the door.
"Yeah, 'cause I'm around." Tucker laughs, but gently his time, turning Wash's head around to kiss him properly.
Wash hums quietly in response, reaching a hand up to rest against Tucker's cheek.
Tucker breaks the kiss to head out to car. Wash's face is glowing bright pink and his blue eyes are shining, it's an endless amusement/turn on to Tucker how quickly Wash gets flustered. Shaking off the butterflies, Wash follows Tucker out on the driveway, taking a seat passenger side in the car while Tucker does the same opposite him.
The school day is long, and boring, and did Tucker mention long? Ugh. He has no classes with Wash until last block of the day and flirting madly with Kai and the other girls was less fun than when Wash was just a shadow in the back of math class.
Wash's day is flat but uninterrupted, not quite as informative as it could've been but not excruciating either. Through the day, even though he only sees Tucker in one class, he can almost hear the sarcastic remarks about the lesson and has to stop himself from laughing aloud on several occasions.
The two meet up after school and Tucker drives home (bitching about homework), Wash listening and rolling eyes.
"You know," Wash points out. "If you spent less time complaining and more time doing homework, you might not have this problem."
"Yeah, but I have an awesome boyfriend who's good at math." Tucker realizes a second later that he's never called Wash his boyfriend, ever.
Wash realizes this at exactly the same moment, and instead of acknowledging it he rolls his eyes and says "Are you trying to get me to do your homework for you?"
Tucker parks the car and leans over to kiss Wash so deep the ground crumbles away. "Yes."
"Yeah, not gonna happen." Wash stumbles over the words while his brain catches up with his mouth, dispersing the haze that lingers on his brain. Tucker pouts like a child denied sweets all the way up the stairs to the apartment. Wash can only laugh at his idiocy.
"Why not?" Tucker taunts "Afraid of having my grades equal yours?"
"Afraid of you being released into the real world."
"The real world? Seriously Wash? This the guy who's so afraid of his ex-fucking-boyfriend he barely leaves this apartment?!"
Wash flinches, a full body recoil, stopping dead in the driveway. "What?" He asks, struck dumb by the argument.
Tucker snuffs out the flicker of doubt that he's said way too much. "You heard me."
"Yeah," Wash murmurs. "But I wish I hadn't."
"Afraid of the truth David?"
"Can you just...stop talking?"
Something about this is wrong, Tucker knows that but he hears himself, his voice ugly, just keep on going.
Wash takes a step back, shoulders and arms curling to protect his stomach.
Tucker can't remember what's he's saying but Wash's eyes turn to fire and the door slams shut so loud the walls vibrate and he just stands there like what the fuck just happened?
Once outside, Wash's rage freezes over, ice spires driving fear across his body, the scar over his abdomen burning. He chokes on a breath of air, quickening his stride to get across the driveway as fast as possible. He wrenches the door of Epsilon's car open, climbing in and pulling the keys from where he keeps them in his jacket pocket. He reverses away from the house, and starts down the street in a random direction down the street with his hands clenched tight over the wheel.
Tucker can hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. Jesus Christ he hasn't blown up like that in fucking years, as soon as he knows that he starts shaking with fury, at no one but himself. He loves Wash, yeah he loves him he couldn't have said that he would never say that.
But you did.
Wasn't me.
It was.
ITWASNTME, ISWEARITWASNTME!
He screams the last phrase out loud, echoing through the silent building. He doesn't think to go after Wash, he wants to, god he wants to, wants to beg his forgiveness and swear he didn't mean a word of it. But he doesn't go after him, cause he knows that he's ruined this. Another perfect thing in his life he's managed to poison. Almost mechanically Tucker reaches for a knife in the kitchen drawer. Actions like that deserve punishment.
Wash drives senselessly for a few minutes before gathering his bearings and taking a left, visiting one of the shadier areas of town. He pulls up in front of a dark, black and grey house, checking the number in front the building. In green plating, 33456 matches perfectly the number he'd originally memorized to be sure he avoided.
He stalks right up to the door and bangs his fist against the wood three times. A tall figure answers, dark skinned with a thick X across his face in scarred skin.
"You wanted to talk." Wash says, running on haste and adrenaline. "I'll answer anything you want, but...I need a favour."
Before the knife can pierce the fragile skin of Tucker's inner arm a spike of clarity pierces his mind. It's one word: No.
No, I won't go back to that place.
No, I will change.
No.
In a half second, Tucker picks up the phone to dial a number he only has for 'court ordained reasons'.
It's picked up on the second ring, a smoke and chemical voice. "What?!"
"Hi Ma!" Tucker's voice is sunshine even as his fist rhythmically pounds the countertop,
"This isn't your day to talk to my son."
Before the click and dial tone, Tucker's words flow like a river. "Guess what Ma? Guess what I did today? I drove away the only good thing in my life, I drove him right the fuck away just I did with Junior." A hysterical laugh bubbles up in his throat. "You did that too, Ma, didn't you?" A sharp intake of breath over the line. "But I'm going to find him, I'm going to stop the poison like you never ever could, I'm better than you Ma and I don't need your permission to see my brother cause as soon as I get Wash back I am marching down to the courthouse and telling the goddamn world exactly why Junior is better off with anyone but you."
"You wou-"
"Bye Ma, I don't need you, I guess we're even now."
And this time Tucker is the one to hang up.
After about an hour of seemingly purposeless interrogation, Wash is finally comfortable enough to leave that dark house, stepping into his car with a sigh of relief. He pulls from the drive, and heads unconsciously but with a deep rooted resignation to the only place he could really call home.
Tucker meant what he'd said. He was going to find Wash, even though he probably wouldn't come back, he had to apologize. He sure as hell won't let him go so easily. As he thought this he got in the jeep and started driving aimlessly. He has no idea where the other man might be but he can't sit at home. Eventually he pulls over to a random side street and dials Wash's number.
Answering machine. "Hi, Wash, it's Tucker. I-I didn't mean a word of anything I said." His voice broke. "I don't deserve it but will you give me a chance to explain? At least, please, tell me you're okay. I love you." He hits end and squeezes his eyes shut, leaning on wheel. Still a fuck up.
Wash realizes, pulling the car into the driveway only to find Tucker absent, that a voicemail had come through from that very man just moments before. He presses the receiver to his ear. He listens to the choked apology, suddenly feeling helpless all over again, and all the once the trip to Locus's feels like a true betrayal.
He calls the number back and waits for an answer.
Tucker snatches the phone off the seat with a fervent prayer to whatever the fuck might be listening. "Hi?" His voice, even to himself, sounds strangled. He takes a breath and tries again. "Hello?" Better. A little.
"Hi," Wash replies, breathless. "I'm at the house." He adds, asking silently why Tucker isn't.
"O-okay" Tucker is simultaneously overjoyed and scared shitless. "Can, I mean, will you let me try and apologize?"
Wash looks down, kicking his feet against the pavement and leaning his hip on the car door. "Will you let me do the same?" He asks, voice dropping to nearly nothing.
"No?" Tucker clamps the phone to his ear as he drives towards home "I don't know what the fuck you'd be apologizing for?" Wash starts to speak and Tucker cuts him off. "Look, I'm driving, I have to hang up, love you." Tucker throws the device back onto the seat and goes flying towards home and Wash. Mostly Wash.
"But I messed up too." Wash protests after Tucker's already hung up, staring at the caller ID still lingering on the screen. He takes a deep breath, letting his head fall back to look up at the sky. He goes to pocket the phone, initially reaching for the pocket inside his jacket before he realizes what's there and instead slips it into the back pocket of his jeans.
Tucker finds the other man waiting uncomfortably by his usual parking space. "Wash," as soon as he manages to get out the name the words come in a rush. "I'm so sorry, I don't even know enough to tell you how much I hate that I hurt you and I understand if you never like ever want to see me again but I want you to know that I love you and I didn't mean it Wash, I just got mad I didn't mean it." Tucker has to pause to catch his breath at that point and realizes there's a single tear clinging to Wash's eyelash. "Wash...?"
Wash smiles, not altogether happily, a single sob breaking through before he reaches out to pull Tucker close to him, wrapping his arms around Tucker's shoulders. "I love you too." Then, quieter, "Don't go." He waits half a second, drawing a shaky breath, before stepping back and wiping tears from his eyes. "I have a confession." He says, pulling a slip of paper and something else from his inside pocket and handing Tucker the note, an address written in green ink across it.
Tucker looks down at bright emerald ink scrawled across the page, but instead of unfolding it blinks up at Wash is bewilderment. He's not sure when him begging forgiveness turned into Wash telling him not to leave but he's confused at hell and the string of numbers in his hand is not helping.
Wash shifts, ducking his head under Tucker's scrutiny. "That's Locus's address." He says, biting his lip and looking down. "That's where I went."
Tucker's eyes widen in shock. Locus? It can't be The Locus, can it?
"Wash?" Tucker's voice is small, uncertain. "What?"
Wash presses a hand to his face. "I didn't know where to go." He confesses, tears falling down his cheeks. "I asked him how to defend myself, and he-" his voice breaks, and he lays his palm flat in front of him to reveal a six inch switchblade. "He gave me this."
Oh sweet Jesus. Tucker sucks in a breath. Yup it is the one and only Locus alright. "What, what did you have to tell him?" Tucker asks quietly.
Wash can't bring his eyes up to Tucker's face. "More than I wanted to."
Tucker tries, and fails, to catch Washington's eye. "Like what?"
Wash shrugs. "Everything I told you," he murmurs. "Except in more detail."
Tucker is about to speak as a chill wind sweeps the garage and he notices that his companion is shivering. "Lets go upstairs," he suggests, tentatively taking Wash's hand.
Wash nods, and lets himself be led into the apartment, waiting for instructions just inside the door rather than taking a seat. They hover awkwardly in the doorway for a couple of eternities before Tucker can't stay silent "Are we okay?" He finally bursts out. "'Cause if we're not we should fix it and, and if we are then come in so we can figure out how to deal with this!"
"Sorry." Wash murmurs, and walks over to take his usual seat on the couch, and Tucker does the same next to him. They face each other, in the same way they always do when they sit here and talk about serious stuff, and Wash is the first to speak. "Listen, we messed up. You messed up and then I messed up. But please, I'm sorry and I love you and I forgive you so whatever it takes, I wanna work this out."
"Yeah," Tucker's face splits into a wide grin, he nods furiously. "I wanna work this out too, a lot."
"Okay, good." Wash says, and then in the subsequent silence. "I've never done this before, where do we start?"
"Well do I tell you that I called my mother today and yelled at her that I was going to fix things with you and that I was going to try get Junior away from her?"
Wash's eyes go wide. "Jesus, really?"
Tucker smiles halfway between proud and ashamed. "Yeah," a laugh bubbles up in his throat. "I told her I didn't need her and I hung up before she could answer." He turns serious again. "I'm tired of being poison."
Wash's lips quirk, there and gone so fast that if Tucker had blinked he'd have missed it. "That's very brave."
"You're saying that?" Tucker teases, "The guy that marched his ass up Locus fucking Castile's and came home with a knife?"
Wash's face falls. "I wouldn't call what I did brave."
"Well I would call it incredibly brave, and," Tucker raises one eyebrow in a come-hither expression. "Incredibly hot." His ridiculous innuendo draws a laugh from the blond.
"Seriously," Wash tries again when he's regained his composure. "Don't idealize me; I sold my life story to a psychopath, that was the most cowardly thing I could've done."
Tucker just shrugs. "Seriously," he echoes Wash's somber tone. "What are we going to do with that?" He gestures to the knife on the table in front of them, the steel glinting cruelly.
Wash bites his lip until he draws blood. "I was gonna keep it." He whispers. "But if you want to, you can take it."
"Do you want me to take it?" Tucker asks him. He leans forward to gently wipe the bright drops from Wash's lower lip.
"No." Wash murmurs, looking up again to meet Tucker's eyes. He shakes his head, shoulder slumped. "I'm tired of feeling defenceless."
"Okay." Tucker agrees, before adding; "I don't know if I'm allowed but I really want to kiss you right now." He leaves the confession hanging in the air, waiting for Wash to speak.
Wash smiles for real. "I'd like that too."
Tucker curls his fingers into the collar of his boyfriend's shirt and pulls him close so they're pressed flush, and catches Wash's mouth with his own. Lemons and copper, the now familiar scent washing over his senses smooths away the last ruffles of nerves. Wash grins against Tucker's lips, tracing soft circles against Tucker's lower back with his hands. Tucker breaks the kiss, causing Wash to let out a soft whine. "Why the hell did you let me come back?" Tucker doesn't want to ask but he has to know. "Why am I still allowed to have all this?"
Wash face softens, and he reaches out to rest his palm against Tucker's cheek. "Because I love you." He says, then smiles. "It's not much of a riddle, Tucker."
Tucker settles back down against Wash's chest, kissing that perfect spot where his neck meets his shoulder. Wash makes a breathy little gasping sound and tightens his hands over Tucker's hips. Tucker pulls himself away to lean lean heavily against his boyfriend's side. "We're gonna fine aren't we?" Tucker's not quite sure what he's asking but he knows what he wants to hear.
Wash wraps an arm around Tucker's shoulders. "Yeah," he says quietly. "Yeah, I think so."
Tucker grins up at Wash. "And they lived happily ever fucking after."
Wash laughs. "I thought we weren't in a bad lifetime movie."
"We'd be in a great lifetime movie- if they existed."
Wash reaches up to brush a strand of hair from Tucker's face. "We'll break the cinematic stereotype."
Tucker wrinkles his nose and fixes the hair behind his ear. "You still do that wrong."
Wash sighs. "Well it's not like I've had a lot of practice."
"Just be better at life Wash."
"Hey I'm plenty good at life!"
Tucker is about to (no seriously) come up with an amazing reply when the phone starts going off and Tucker freezes. Home phone. No one calls the home phone.
Wash feel Tucker stiffen, and he glances between him and the phone before pulling away just slightly. There are questions on the tip of his tongue but he's more worried about the deer-in-the-headlights look on Tucker's face.
He shakes his head to clear it and gets up to answer. The first thing Tucker feels is relief; it's not his mother. The second thing? Dread. He knows that burning ice voice from a hospital room and a sinister apartment. It says "Who the fuck are you?" loud enough the Wash can probably hear it. "Tucker," he answers evenly before turning to mouth 'Epsilon' at Wash's concerned/questioning face.
Wash leans back and nods, clearing his face of all emotion. 'You want to take this,' he mouths back. 'Or should I?'
Tucker steps towards the other man and briefly links their fingers to silently reply 'both' even as the chewing-nails sound on the other end of the line. "Where the hell is that little slut?" Tucker grits down a retort (not my fight). "I'll thank you not to talk about my boyfriend that way." There's a moment of pure quiet before a roar of threats and curses pour into the apartment. Wash grabs the phone from Tucker's hand and says "It's me." as he moves away, Tucker can just hear roar soften into a pleading wheedle of sugary apologies. Tucker feels sick.
Epsilon starts trying to sweet talk him the minute Wash gets on the phone. As if he thought Wash couldn't hear all the terrible things he'd said to Tucker. The soft tone of Epsilon's voice is offset by by the forcefulness that never quite leaves his tone. The familiar tight feeling in Wash's stomach returns almost immediately, and his hand is shaking at his side. He shuts Epsilon up with one, wavering word.
Tucker is pacing. Doing laps around kitchen table, circling the couch. Trying not to explode while his thoughts circle faster than his feet.
He called Wash a slut. He called my boyfriend a slut. I'm going to kill him.
Wash can handle it.
"No."
One word, clear like fresh water. Delicious.
There's nothing for a long moment, just the static sound of Epsilon's sharp intake of breath and then silence. Long, immovable silence, in which the house could've collapsed around him and Wash wouldn't have moved a muscle.
And then the screaming starts.
It's so abrupt, one minute Epsilon is quiet and the next he's full blown yelling obscenities. Wash nearly jumps out of his skin, and as it is he takes a step back and hits the wall. His heart is pounding in his ears, and he has to pull the phone away from his head and rest it on his chest to try to regain his composure. He inhales deeply, and when he reaches up there are tears on his face. He can still hear Epsilon even with the speaker covered, and the vibrations of speech beat like a drum against his skin.
It takes three strides for Tucker to be across the room and grabbing the phone. His breathing is rough and his hands are shaking. "Listen, Epsilon." Tucker is forgetting it's not his fight. "Stay the hell away from my family." He hands the device back to Wash and stretches on tiptoe to whisper "Tell him."
Wash takes the phone with trembling hands. "Epsilon." He says into the receiver, and the line goes quiet. "You don't own me." Epsilon starts to speak over the phone but Wash just keeps going. "I am an actual human being, not a punching bag. And despite all the times I've ben put down, I'm still breathing." His eyes flicker up to Tucker, and he gathers strength that way. "For as long as I can remember, I've been lied to, taken advantage of, stabbed in the back, and left for dead. And now I have a way out of all of that. I'm still breathing, and I'm going to keep breathing. And as long as I have a life worth living, you won't be part of it." He takes a deep, shuddering breath. "Goodbye Epsilon. Thanks for nothing."
After the click of the line being disconnected tucker turns to Wash a crazy smile stretching his cheeks. "Oh my god."
Wash laughs, a shaky, relieved sound. "Jesus Christ," he whispers, wiping the tears from his face. "I didn't think I could do that."
"Well then it's a good thing I knew you could all along." Tucker wraps his arms around Wash's neck and hugs him tightly. "That was amazing babe."
Wash curls his arms around Tucker's waist. "Thank you."
"Not to mention," Tucker smirks up at the blond. "That was incredibly hot."
Wash grins, placing a hand on either side of Tucker's face. "Is that so?" He murmurs, and leans down to kiss him.
"Definitely, I am an expert on being super hot."
Wash raises an eyebrow. Tucker just laughs and replaces the phone in its cradle.
When Tucker bounces out of bed on a rainy Tuesday morning shaking with nerves, Wash looks understandably concerned.
Wash is leaning against the counter, but he sees Tucker he straightens. "You okay?"
"Fuck no." Tucker replies honestly, it's true but even through a thick coating of anxiety a smile spreads across his face.
Wash smiles in a way that's supposed to be reassuring but really isn't, and reaches out to take Tucker's hand. "That's understandable."
Tucker finally realizes he's freaking Wash out. "So while you were out yesterday," he begins. "I made some phone calls, I spoke with a lawyer, child protection services, my mother." His manic grin returns as he continues. "And Junior."
Wash's face softens. "Yeah? What happened?"
"I'm making good on my promise." Tucker states. "I'm going to court to try and get J away from my mother and into a foster home until I can I get at least partial custody." He's never actually said those plans out and it's terrifying.
Wash reaches out to brush a strand of hair from Tucker's face. "You're amazing."
"Hell no, what I am is so goddamn scared." He steps towards his boyfriend and leans against his chest so his words are barely audible. "What if I fuck this up?"
Wash curls his hands around Tucker's waist. "You won't. Trust me, if anyone can make this work, it'll be you."
"But what if I don't?"
Wash pulls back to look Tucker in the eyes, resting a palm on either side of Tucker's face. "It won't come to that, okay? I believe in you."
The next few weeks are, well, awful. Tucker feels like he's either sleeping or in meetings or court or trying not to completely crack up. It was pretty bad but would've been decidedly worse without Wash being literally the best boyfriend in the world and making Tucker coffee at all hours (and not bitching about the amount of sugar Tucker dumps in it) and by (thank you lord) not asking him about how things went, instead distracting him with random pictures of cats online or just cuddling in front of the TV.
It would be stupid to assume Wash isn't worried sick, with no real way to understand what Tucker is going through. He can see the stress mounting with every court case, and resolves to make sure that he's lessened it by the end of the evening. And with every day that passes, he grows to admire Tucker even more, for his bravery and his strength.
Last court appearance, aka the Day Of Reckoning. Tucker grabs his stuff and kisses a still sleeping Wash's forehead as he leaves to meet his fate, or you know, his lawyer. But fate sounds cooler.
Wash wakes to find Tucker's already left.
It's a long, long day. Tucker can't wait to get home and fold himself into Wash's arms. At the building, he throws the door open and launches himself into Wash's lap. "We won!"
It takes a full four seconds for the words to go through Wash's brain, and he just blinks at Tucker for a moment. Then his face splits into a wide grin. He laughs, a light, bubbly sound. "Oh my God, really?"
"Yes!" Tucker almost screeches throwing his arms around Wash's neck. They both act like idiots for a few minutes before calming down with Tucker seated comfortably in the blond's lap. "Honestly I can't even believe this is happening." Tucker admits.
Wash smiles, hooking an arm over Tucker's shoulders. "I knew you could do it."
"Well that makes one of us."
Wash's features fall into something that's not quite joy and not quite sympathy. "Well, I think that's the most happy I've ever been to have you proven wrong."
"You love proving me wrong, you shmuck." Tucker teases.
Wash laughs. "I can't deny that."
"Shut up." Tucker whines, smacking him playfully on the shoulder.
Wash grins. "Make me."
Tucker rolls his eyes even as he leans forward to press a soft kiss against Wash's lips.
They're both laughing and devolving into insults again as they pull away, but Wash cuts them both off in a press of lips, both grinning too much for it to really be called a kiss.
Wash pulls back, only a little, and his eyes meet Tucker's from just inches away. "I really love you." He whispers into the empty space.
"I know." Tucker smirks, dodging Wash's half-hearted attempt to smack him with a pillow and leaning close to whisper. "And I really, really love you too."
Wash smiles. "I was hoping you would say that."
"And I was hoping," Tucker smiles. "That my awesome boyfriend call for Chinese so we don't have to leave the house and buy groceries."
Wash laughs. "Subtle." He comments, and goes to pick up the phone.
Tucker stumbles out of his room with the widest grin Wash has ever seen him wear. He doesn't say anything, doesn't even need to, because Wash would have to be blatantly ignorant to not know what day it is by now. Instead, he reaches out, takes Wash's hand, and leads him to the car.
Tucker can barely keep his focus on the road enough to not wrap the car around a tree, he's almost shaking with excitement. He's seen his brother 3 or 4 times in the past few weeks but he's been wildly impatient to introduce Wash to him.
Wash watches Tucker from the passenger side, soft smile on his face. The anticipation is contagious, and he can feel it buzzing in his nerves.
Finally (finally) they pull up at Linda and Peter's house. They're Juniors foster family, nice and just eccentric enough to take J's issues in a stride. Tucker approves 100%, and so does Junior but that might be more because of their dog, Shaggy, than any humans involved.
As soon as Tucker knocks the door is flung open and Junior rockets towards his knees like a homing missile. Tucker laughs and swings his brother up into his arms in a giggling arc before squishing him in a hug and setting him down on the porch. Wash hangs back a few steps, and watches the display with a bemused smile. He sees Tucker and Junior laughing, and thinks, if this is what family's really like, he might want one after all.
Tucker spins to look at him, light in his eyes, and Wash grins back.
As soon as Junior sees Wash he and flees to safety behind his brother, peeking out around Tucker's knees. Tucker turns and squats so they're eye to eye. "It's okay J, that's Wash."
"Blargh?"
"Yes, the one I told you about."
Suddenly a mischievous glint appears in Juniors eyes. "Honk blarg honk?"
Tucker sighs, feeling his cheeks flush. "Yes, my boyfriend."
Wash tries to look less nervous and more reassuring, but the effect isn't really what he hopes. Nevertheless, Junior steps away from Tucker's side, taking a few hesitant paces forward to stop a few feet away from Wash.
Wash sinks down his knees so they're the same height, and lifts a hand to wave. Junior doesn't say anything, but he isn't hiding either, so Wash counts that as a plus.
Tucker stifles a laugh at the freaked out expression on Wash's face, it's funny but it's not really surprising, most people have a hard time dealing with Junior. Tucker turns to his brother "Hey Junior, why don't you go get your comic books and show Wash." Junior takes off into the house and Tucker pulls Wash up to kiss him quickly.
Wash laughs sheepishly, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck. "Sorry."
"You're doing great." Tucker reassures him, kissing him again, sweeter this time. It's at that moment that Junior trots back outside and, seeing them kiss makes an exaggerated vomit noise. Tucker, of course, leans down to kiss the top of Juniors head which results in the kid socking him in the leg and Tucker catching and tickling him until he squeals.
Tucker's heart is going to explode. With his little brother and his boyfriend pretty everyone he loves is within 5 feet of him right now and it doesn't get better than this.
Wash resumes his position of falling back and observing, laughing at Tucker nearly bouncing up and down with excitement.
Standing with his hands in his pockets, he still looks a little awkward, but past that, he looks happy.
Junior manages to escape Tucker's evil attempts to tickle him into oblivion and runs towards Wash, grabbing his legs with a clear facial expression of 'save me'.
Wash laughs, almost knocked over with the unexpected contact. He looks up at Tucker, who nods, and he shifts so he's standing between the two brothers. "I think we can take him on, don't you?" He says, and Junior grins up at him.
It's the kind of day that makes Tucker wish he carried a camera. Instead, he takes mental snapshots of his family. His family, that sounds righter than right.
Junior throwing a handful of mud at a tree.
Snap.
Wash covered in grass stains, not bruises.
Snap.
Junior with a dollop of ice cream on his nose.
Snap.
Junior sneaking licks of his ice cream while he thinks Tucker isn't looking.
Snap.
Junior and Wash with matching evil grins.
Snap.
Tucker's family.
Snap.
And it's not much of a riddle that they all live happily ever after.
Or some bullshit like that.