Chapter Text
The sun poured down into the jungle-clad canyon, illuminating the makeshift bases. The canyon was already bustling with activity with everyone awake but Tucker. Tucker was just another thing Wash had to worry about. If it wasn’t the Reds stealing his tools, it was Caboose and Freckles, and if it wasn’t Caboose and Freckles, it was Tucker and his bad attitude. He just doesn’t understand why Tucker is so hostile towards him, more so than he usually is to Caboose and the Reds.
Wash had finished getting Caboose up and ready but hadn’t seen Tucker emerge from the bunk yet.
“Once. Just once I want to not have to wake Tucker. That’s all I’m asking,” He muttered to himself as he trudged down the hall to where he and Tucker shared a room. Although neither of them wanted to share a room, they both agreed that it was better than sharing a room with Caboose. They were fortunate enough that three beds couldn’t fit into the rooms they had made from salvaged ship parts. Caboose seemed a little upset when he found out that they were not able to all share a room, but that passed quickly when a butterfly flew past his face and he proceeded to chase it around the canyon.
Wash stood there in the doorway just watching the soft rise and fall of his teammate’s chest as he slept. He looked so calm and peaceful that Wash almost didn’t want to wake him, so he opted for a gentler wake up than his normal shout. He stepped gently into the room until he was looming over Tucker’s quiet body. He placed his hand on the darker man’s shoulder and softly shakes him awake.
“What, not gonna blow my eardrums this morning, Wash?” Tucker grumbled as he sat up.
“Well, you haven’t been sleeping well lately and I wanted to prove my point that I’m not a complete asshole.”
“If you wanna prove to me that you’re not a complete asshole, then let me sleep.”
“Nice try, Private,” Wash says leaving the room, “I want you out here and ready for breakfast in 10 minutes. I’ve set up a new obstacle course for you to run today.” He heared an annoyed groan followed by a dejected ‘fuck off’ as he heads into their kitchen.
--
The next day, Wash stood in the doorway of the bunk, watching the rise and fall of Tucker’s chest. He went to take a step into the room but decided against it, walking away to find Caboose, leaving Tucker asleep.
It’s around midday when Tucker finally stepped outside. “Have a good sleep Private?” Wash asked as Tucker approached him.
“Uh, yeah, I guess. Where was my wake up yell this morning?” “I thought I’d let you sleep. You did ask for it after all. And besides, I wanted to how you that I’m actually a nice guy.”
“Ooh, you’re a nice guy. Yeah, sure. I tell that to girls all the time,” Tucker laughed. “If you’re such a nice guy, then why do you make me do all these squats and laps, huh?”
“I do it for your benefit, Tucker, although you may not believe me.”
“Right, whatever. Are you sure you’re not some sadistic fuck who gets pleasure out of making people train till they pass out?”
“5 laps Private.” Wash expected more of a fight from Tucker. Instead, all he got a groan and a mumbled ‘fuck you.’ Maybe he is making headway with Tucker after all.
--
The following morning, Wash decided not to wake Tucker again and headed into the kitchen in search of coffee. He was half way through making a pot when he hears Caboose wander in.
“Good morning, Caboose. There’s nothing planned for today. You can go and do what you like,” Wash said with a kind smile.
“Oh boy! That’s great! Thanks Agent Washington!” Caboose shouted before prancing out of the base calling for Freckles.
Wash sat on the couch he took back from the Reds, sipping another coffee when he finally hears Tucker step into the room.
“Why aren’t you in your armour?” Tucker says, noticing that Wash is wearing black track pants and a grey shirt.
“I’ve decided that we should all take today off. You and Caboose have been working and training really well lately. And my armour's here, right next to me, just in case."
Tucker gave him a sceptical look, expecting some sort of catch, but shrugged it off and walked back out of the room.
Wash went back to sipping his drink, enjoying the peace of a lazy day. The silence was broken when Tucker walked back into the room, now changed out of his armour and wearing grey track pants and an aqua shirt. He tells Wash to shove over before pushing his legs off the couch and taking a seat.
“Is this another one of your ‘I’m a nice guy’ stunts?” He asked whilst opening an MRE.
“That depends,” Wash answered, bringing his legs up in front of his chest, “is it working?”
“...Maybe,” Tucker said with a mouth full of food.
A few moments passed before Wash speaks again, “You were right.” Hearing this makes Tucker turn to face him, “I have been too hard on you. I got too swept up in trying to make you the best soldier you could be that I forgot that you were barely a soldier in the first place, and that you weren’t used to this much training. I guess I was just really stressed, what with having to deal with literally everything in this canyon that making you train would at least keep you out of my hair while I tried to deal with everything else. Sorry for that.” Wash stared down at the half empty cup of coffee in his lap.
“Holy shit,” Tucker sounds genuinely surprised, “An apology from you was the last thing I thought I’d hear today… or ever.”
“Yeah, well, it’s true. Do what you want with it,” Wash stood up and downed the rest of his coffee, “I’m going to go have a shower before the Reds fuck more shit up.”
--
Wash was standing outside the base when Tucker joined him. “Do you think they’re together?” Wash asked, not turning to Tucker.
“Who?”
“Those two. Doc and Donut,” He vaguely gestured in the direction of where Doc and Donut were sitting together, helmets off in the shade of the cliff.
“Probably,” Tucker said with a shrug, “I mean, they did live together back at Valhalla in that tiny house thing with a garden. And Doc was the first person Donut got when he left to ‘rescue’ us.”
“They’ve got to be dating, right? Look at how close they are to each other, and how handsy Donut is being.” Wash turned to look at Tucker and noticed that he’s standing much closer than he used to; they’re practically touching.
“Oh, well, yep. They’re definitely something alright,” Tucker remarks, still staring at the pair.
“What makes you say-” Wash is cut off when he turns back to see the two of them kissing, “I knew it.”
Wash and Tucker continue have more and more little, light hearted conversations, and it’s really lifting Wash’s spirits. He eased up on the training and he can see a change in Tucker’s attitude towards him, like he’s beginning to see him as more of a friend than a leader. Ever since Tucker told him that he’s a shitty replacement for Church, he has tried to be more of a friend to his teammate, which is what he needed after all, a friend. Maybe that’s what all those feelings Wash has been getting around Tucker are, just signs of a friendship.
--
Wash can’t sleep. It’s just one of those nights. It’s not because of his nightmares. He’s used to them – well, as used to them as one can be considering that every night he relived the horrors of his past. Whenever he can’t sleep, he heads up to the roof. So that’s exactly what he does this time.
Wash was surprised to see Tucker is already up there. He was leaning back on his hands staring up at the stars, the cool night breeze rustling his dreads as they hung. He looked so peaceful and beautiful in the pale moonlight, the cool undertones of his dark skin highlighting his face. Wash wished he had a camera because for some reason, he wanted to remember this - remember him. He felt his heart skip a beat and a fond smile tugged at his lips.
“Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna come join me?” Tucker said, still staring up at the sky. His voice was soft – a soft that Wash had never heard from him before.
He walked over to him, careful not to make too much noise and wake Caboose who was sleeping below his feet. He sat down next to him and dangled his legs over the edge.
“Shouldn’t you be asleep, Private?” Wash asked.
“Shouldn’t you be asleep, Agent?” Tucker retorted, and he had a point.
He couldn’t help but glance down to where Tucker’s shirt had been lifted, revealing his sharp hip bone and his newly forming abs. Wash felt a mix of pride amongst other things. His training was working.
Tucker must have noticed Wash staring, because he moved a little closer to him and moved his hand so that his pinkie was brushing against Wash’s. Wash felt his heart flutter again. They sat there in a comfortable silence for what felt like an eternity, their bodies so close he could feel the heat between them. Wash didn’t want the moment to end, but when he felt sleep tugging at his head, he knew he needed to go to bed.
“Try to get some sleep,” he whispered as he stood up but he was stopped by a warm hand on his wrist. He looked down to see Tucker looking up at him.
“Do you think we’ll ever get out of here?” His hand moved from Wash’s wrist to his hand.
“Yes,” he replied after a pause and squeezed Tucker’s hand in comfort. “I think we will.”
Tucker smiled sadly before dropping Wash’s hand. “Goodnight, Wash.”
--
Wash sat at the kitchen table doodling cats in a notebook. Tucker wandered in and noticed Wash sitting there and decided to join him. Tucker took the seat next to him and took the book and giggled at the soft noise of disapproval that fell from Wash’s mouth, and began flicking through the pages upon pages of cat doodles.
“Cute,” Tucker muttered, and Wash could feel the blush threatening to take over his face.
He looked back over to Tucker and he could feel his heart flutter as he watched him go through the notebook and smile and make comments about the cats. Wash could stay like this forever. No impending doom, no tension, just two friends sitting closer than they need but not really caring. He stared at Tucker and was overcome with the urge to touch him, so he grabbed the marker with one hand and Tucker’s arm with the other and began drawing cats on his arm.
Wash knows he’s had feelings for Tucker, but he figured they were just something that happened when a friendship developed. Instead, those feelings got stronger and stronger, to the point where all Wash could think about was Tucker. The way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, the way his dreads fall in his face in the mornings, the way his eyes light up when he talks about Junior; he could listen to Tucker talk about Junior for hours. He’s positive that having the urge to kiss someone was not something that people got when they wanted to be friends with someone.
Holy shit. I have a fucking crush.
Tucker looked up from watching Wash draw on his skin. Wash could feel Tucker’s eyes running over him. He looked up to meet his eyes. Wash can feel his heartbeat race as they look into each other’s eyes. They’re so close to each other, so close that Wash could just reach out and –
Wash leaned forwards and places his lips on Tucker’s. They stay there for a second but before Wash could move, tucker recoiled. A mix of dread and regret grew in Wash’s stomach. Wash pulled back immediately, putting as much distance between them as he can. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, looking at anyone but Tucker.
Tucker doesn’t say or do anything and his eyes were wide with shock.
Fuck it, Wash thought, his head swimming. “Tucker, look. I like you. Now I know what these feelings I’ve been getting are and you mean the world to me and I want to be with you in a more-then-friends way.” Wash realises that he’s rambling. “I thought – I thought that – I think I love you. No, never mind. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have -” He stopped himself and took a deep breath and waited for Tucker to say something.
But Tucker didn’t say anything. Instead, he backed up slowly. Wash’s heart pounded with fear. He wanted to cry when Tucker turned and rushed out of the room, not saying a word.