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Summary
It was just supposed to be a fucking job. But then, like everything else in Tucker’s miserable life, it snowballed. It snowballed into a fucking avalanche until he was knocking on Wash’s door at four in the morning desperate and exhausted and ready to beg for help. Because he was not cut out for this shit. He was a lover, not a father.
AU in which Tucker is the worst (best?) babysitter that the Mother of Invention has ever seen. And things go about as terribly as you might expect them to.
