Chapter Text
If Tucker had to pinpoint a moment in time when everything first began to go to hell around them, he would probably have to say that the whole thing started with Church's wedding.
"You're getting what?" Tucker asks. He takes the phone away from his ear to look at in disbelief, as if staring at it will somehow make what Church said make any sense, "Are you fucking serious?"
"Yeah, Tucker," Church says, "I'm fucking serious. Now get your ass over to City Hall so we can get a witness for this bullshit. I'm ready to get started on my honeymoon already."
"Uh..." Tucker says. Suspicion grabs hold of him and shakes him by the head. "Wait, does Tex know about this?""
His comment is met with pure silence for a moment, which is so out of character that Tucker actually wonders if Church hung up on him. "Yes, Tucker," Church says icily, "Tex knows she's getting married today."
"Oh," Tucker says, "Dude, I'm just checking."
"You know, it's not too late to make Caboose my best man instead."
Tucker snorts. He's pretty sure that wouldn't be punishing him. But whatever, Church can believe that he's all torn up about it if he wants to, but it's not like Tucker's gonna miss any of those bullshit best man duties like—"
"Wait," Tucker says with dawning horror, “Wait, you're not gonna let me have a bachelor party for you, are you?" He smacks his hand against his forehead, genuinely upset this time. "You are such a dick! You know how much I was looking forward to it!"
Church scoffs. "Well, sorry to ruin your big night, Tucker, but I don't give a damn about seeing a bunch of naked women giving people lap dances the night before my wedding. You can save that shit for your own."
"Uh huh," Tucker says, because he doesn't want to touch that line with a ten foot pole, "So Tex is standing right behind you, isn't she?"
"Yes," Church says, "Yes, she is."
"Riiight," Tucker says, "So what time do I have to be there anyway?"
"We just got our ticket," Church tells him, "So if you're not here in the next thirty minutes, we're doing this without you."
"Got it," Tucker tells him, then hangs up on him without another word, immediately gathering up his things and heading over to Kimball's office. "I've gotta leave early," he tells her after she calls him in, "It's kind of an emergency."
"Is everything alright?" she asks in concern.
"Yeah, it's cool," Tucker says, "Its just a family thing, y'know? Don't worry, I'll stay late tomorrow to finish things up."
Kimball nods. "That's fine.
He figured it would be. Kimball is the coolest, most understanding boss that Tucker's ever had. She actually gives a shit about her employees and she's never once given him flack for having to run over to Junior's school in the middle of a work day because he's gotten into another fight. It’s kind of awesome. All he has to do is mention the word “family” and he’s good to go.
“Thanks Kimball,” he tells her with a smile. He gives her a wave on the way out the door, strolling past the sea of cubicles and out of the building without missing a beat or stopping to say goodbye to anybody.
He gets there with fifteen minutes to spare.
He has to ask directions to the waiting room, but that’s no problem, because he hears the sound of Caboose being an asshole long before he hits the hall.
“—buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?’”
Tucker misses Church’s no doubt incredibly chill response, but they’ve been friends long enough that he can imagine how it goes. What really interests him, however, is how Tex responded to it—which is with laughter, apparently, Tucker sees as soon as he walks through the door. He joins her in enjoying the view.
After a moment, he breaks the silence.
“Sooo,” Tucker begins, “Getting married, huh?”
“Yep,” she replies.
“Are you sure you wanna be doing this?”
Church breaks away from Caboose long enough to get on Tucker’s case. “Hey, don’t you try talking her out of this!” he snaps, “It took me five years to get her to say yes.”
“Uh huh,” Tucker says. He looks at Tex out of the corner of his eyes. “So did he pay you or trick you or what?”
Tex reaches into her pocket and quickly shows him a stack of hundreds before squirreling it away again. “He called it an engagement present,” she says with a smirk, “And he said I get to pawn the ring if we break it off.”
Tucker scoffs. “What, like you needed permission for that?”
Her smirk turns into an honest grin, one they share as time goes by and they watch Caboose and Church do their thing. Because of that, it takes him awhile to realize that someone is missing.
He looks around for a glimpse of bright red hair, but aside from a young teenage girl with a lot of piercings, there's none to be found in the vicinity. '"Wait," he says, "What about Carolina? When's she going to get here?"
Church stiffens.
Tex gives Tucker a warning look, eyes narrowing in a way that promises pain for him if he doesn't shut the hell up. "What?" Tucker says in surprise, "What is it? What did I say?"
Church gives him a baleful look. "Carolina decided that she wasn't gonna come today."
"What?" Tucker says dumbly. Carolina not coming to her own brother's wedding? It's so incomprehensible that for a second Tucker doesn't understand what he means. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Apparently she isn't thrilled about Tex being her future sister-in-law," Church explains. He snorts derisively, lips curving down into a bitter scowl that does nothing to disguise the hurt he's feeling.
Tucker can't respond to that. He wouldn't know where to begin, to be honest. He knew that Carolina hated Tex, but he had no idea that she hated her this much, enough to skip out on her only brother's wedding day. It's kind of fucked up.
“Oh, whatever,” Church fumes, “Like I fucking care.” He jumps up from his seat like the hounds of hell are after him and starts pacing angrily in front of them both, going back and forth with jerky motions that clearly give away how upset he is.
Tucker and Tex exchange glances when he isn't looking. He motions toward Church with a questioning look, but she shakes her head in a firm no, silently telling Tucker that it would be best if he let it pass.
“Number 23?”
Church freezes, looking caught out and hurt, and for all the bickering they do, everyone is still quick to come to his aid. “They’re coming,” Tucker says quickly, as Tex and Caboose hurries over to Church's side, "We just need a sec, okay?”
"Leave me alone," he hears Church hiss at Tex, then says, "No, I don't want a fucking hot dog in a blanket," which could only be aimed at Caboose. Tucker shakes his head at both of them and decides to go over there and do some best-broing before anybody pisses Church off further.
“Hey,” Tucker says as he walks up to him, “You want me to call her up and yell at her?”
Church snorts. “What do you think that’s gonna do?”
“Okay,” Tucker says, because Church kinda has a point. Carolina has never cared about what anybody thinks when it comes to Tex. Well, except for her father. And...wait. There’s one more person. “Want me to get Junior to guilt trip her instead?”
Church pauses long enough to convince Tucker he’s thinking about it, but instead of saying yes like Tucker thought he would, he shakes his head and repeats stubbornly, “Who the fuck cares if she shows up?”
“Okay,” Tucker says again, clapping Church on the shoulder, “Then are you ready to get married up in here?”
Church straightens his back, looking a little more confident than he did before. “Yeah, you know what, Tucker?” he says, “I fucking am.”
“Then let’s get this thing started.”
The ceremony itself is short and sweet, with the judge giving the Dearly Beloved speech as soon as everyone settles in. The vows, though, have to be the funniest part of the whole ceremony—there's just something about Tex promising to honor and obey has Tucker struggling not to laugh.
But still, he's never seen Tex smile the way she does when the two of them finally say "I do." He thinks if Carolina were there, she wouldn't have any doubts anymore, not after seeing the looks on their faces. It just sucks that she was too stubborn to come.
Afterwards, they all go out for a bite to eat at the nearest restaurant that they can find. The food winds up sucking, but that’s okay, because all of them are still riding the high from the ceremony. They’re almost giddy from the thrill of it.
As such, it takes the whole meal for Tucker to notice that one little detail that escaped him completely. “So wait,” he says as he turns to Tex, “Why didn't you invite anyone to the wedding?"
Church snorts. "She did."
Tucker's eyes widen dramatically. Holy shit, how many of their friends turned them down for today? Because this is getting to be totally fucked up.
"She's talking about you two assholes, dipshit," Church says. When Tucker turns to look at him in surprise, he adds, "What, did you think I invited you? Think again. I didn't want anyone to come today."
Caboose smiles knowingly. "Except me, right?"
"Especially not you."
Caboose shakes his head, smiling widening in a way that makes Church's jaw clench tight in irritation. "Oh, Church, you are such a kidder," he says, blissfully unaware of Church's reaction.
Tex jerks her head in Church's direction. "I only invited you two because I knew he'd cry if we didn't invite anybody like we originally planned," she explains with a snort, "And I didn't want any whining on my wedding day."
"Too late for that!" Tucker cracks.
Caboose already sobbed through the entire ceremony. It was hard to get him to stop in the end, because all he could do was cry about how Church was never gonna be his roommate again. It was kind of sad. If by sad you mean creepy and weird. Regardless, there was definitely more than enough tears for everyone’s comfort in the end. Even the judge seemed tired of it.
“Nobody was crying,” Caboose insists, “I just had a bug in my eye.”
“That doesn’t even make any sense, you idiot,” Tucker tells him.
Caboose gives him the evil eye. Oddly enough, so does Church, which frankly fills Tucker with surprise--but then, Church gets weirdly protective of Caboose sometimes and there's never any telling when it's going to happen.
“Whatever” Tucker grumbles, “I’m sorry, okay? So you can stop staring at me like I killed your dog.”
Caboose gasps.
Church rolls his eyes and generally looks all around aggrieved. “That was hypothetical,” he tells Caboose, “You learned that word already, remember? It means it’s never gonna fucking happen.”
“I know,” Caboose says thickly, “Tucker would never kill Freckles. Freckles is too big and bitey.” But still he pauses, looking sad and tragic, acting like the thought of his dog dying is the end of the world. “I think I have another bug in my eye.”
Everyone looks at him in disbelief, shaking their heads as he excuses himself to go to the bathroom, sobbing all the way.
“Dude,” Tucker says, “What the fuck was that?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care,” Church replies, “The only thing I give a shit about is whether or not Tex is gonna let me get to third base tonight.
Tex pretends to consider it for a moment. “Eh, it’s still up for debate.”
Tucker leans back in his chair and laughs. “I’m surprised you two are even still here,” he says honestly, “I would’ve been buying some hotel room by now and banging on every piece of furniture in it.”
“You know what, Tucker?” Church says, “You’re right.”
Tucker watches as Church and Tex stand up and quickly collect their things. Something about that strikes him as odd, and it’s only when he notices a waiter walking by with a small faux-leather book that he realizes they were gonna leave him with the check.
"Hey, wait, where are you going?" Tucker exclaims.
Church smirks as he puts on his jacket. "Well, Tucker,” he drawls in that stupid way that makes him sound like his father, “Just consider it a wedding present."
"Who the fuck said I was gonna give you one in the first place?”
“That’s why we’re insisting,” Tex says with a dangerous look in her eye, and yeah, he knows that she wouldn’t hurt him over something like that, but something about it still makes him shiver in his shoes.
“Okay, whatever,” Tucker says nervously, “It’s not like I’m not good for it."
Church leans over to clap him on the shoulder. "See, that's what I like about you, Tucker," he says with a shit-eating grin, "Your unending generosity."
Tucker gives him the finger and scowls when they laugh. "Get out of my face," he grumbles only somewhat earnestly, all the while hiding his own smile from sight, “I don’t wanna see you assholes anymore.”
He waits until they’re at the door to the restaurant before pulling his phone out of his pocket.
Wtf? he texts.
Stay out of it, comes the reply.
No, seriously, what the fuck? he types out irritably, anger rising with every letter, enough so that he doesn’t shorten every other word like he’s prone to do, Do you have any idea how upset he was? He almost didn't get married at all!
He waits and waits for another response, but Carolina never texts him back, something that leaves Tucker fighting the urge to throw his phone clear across the room. But instead of doing that, instead of ruining something of his own, he decides to ruin somebody else for a change.
I never thought you’d actually hurt him on purpose.
And with that, Tucker slips his phone back into his pocket, no longer interested in anything she has to say.
Tucker’s phone rings just as he’s hopping into his car. It’s not Carolina--he can tell that by the ringtone--but it still takes a second for his brain to realize it’s North calling him and not her. “Hey,” he says, “What’s up? You enjoying your vacation?”
“With five kids to take care of?” North points out wrily.
“Heh,” Tucker says, “Yeah, I see what you mean.”
“Anyway, I’m sorry to bug you when you’re at work, but Junior’s been begging me to take him home, so…”
“Wait, what?” Tucker says, “Seriously? No way! He was looking forward to this sleepover all week!” It’s all he would talk about for days. There’s no way he would freak out and get homesick on the very first night. “Maybe I could talk to him and calm him down?”
“I don’t exactly think that would work…”
“What? Why not?”
North sighs. “I’ll explain when you get here.”
“Okay, sure,” Tucker says in confusion, “I’ll be right there.”
He puts his phone down and starts up his car, all the while wondering what could have possibly been so bad to freak Junior out that much. Nothing simple, that’s for sure, but at the same time Tucker can’t picture anything big happening with North around.
By the time he gets to North's house, he’s thoroughly curious about what went on. He thinks about it as he parks in the driveway and then walks up the path to the doorway. What could've possibly happened that North would only talk about it in person?
He shrugs and knocks twice on the door.
“Hey, North!” Tucker says when it opens, “What’s up?”
North is just about to answer when Junior stomps past them on his way to the car, a stormy expression on his face that can only mean bad things for Tucker’s afternoon.
"Whoa!" Tucker says, "What happened?"
North winces a little, rubbing his forehead like he’s had a headache that hasn’t quit for years—weary and a bit resigned, but pained and troubled nonetheless. “He kinda got into an argument with some of Theta’s new friends.”
“What kind of argument?” Tucker asks warily.
“The kind with fists,” North replies, “I left them alone in the backyard for a minute and when I came back Junior was pounding them to the ground. I broke them up, but none of them would say what happened.”
Tucker frowns in surprise. “Not even Theta?”
“Not even Theta,” North replies, looking surprised to hear the words coming out his own mouth. It's almost as though he’s never had to deal with that before. Well, maybe he hasn't. Luckily for them both, Tucker has a lot more experience with this kind of thing.
“I’ll get it out of Junior tonight,” Tucker tells him, “And I’ll call you up if you wanna know.”
North looks grateful for the assistance. “Would you?”
“Sure,” Tucker says, “Should be easy. Junior never keeps anything from me for long.” For now, anyway, though with the way things are going lately that’s probably going to change in a year or two.
"Thanks, Tucker. Good luck getting it out of him."
"I won't need it," Tucker assures him, "But thanks anyway."
And with that and and a wave he turns around, walking toward the car where Junior is sulking. They say nothing as they climb inside, which honestly worries Tucker a little because Junior usually gets loud when he’s upset.
"So,” Tucker says as he puts the key in the ignition, “Are you gonna tell me what happened back there or what?"
Junior mulishly says nothing.
"Okay," Tucker says as he takes the key out again, "Or we could just sit here. That's cool too. So do you wanna guess what happened with Church and Tex today? Because I gotta tell you, I did not see that coming—"
"They were picking on Theta," Junior bursts out angrily.
Tucker startles. That's the last thing he expected Junior to say. "Wait, his friends were?" he asks, slightly confused.
"Yeah!" Junior says. He stares out the window with a thunderous expression on his face. "They said he was acting like a little kid because he didn't want to sneak out of the house with them. And then Theta said he wasn't a little kid, but then Gary said he was because he was friends with me!"
And eleven year olds don't usually have nine year olds as their best friend. Tucker's definitely beginning to see what the problem is. "So that's when you hit 'em," he says knowingly.
Junior jerks his head in a nod.
"Okay, but you know you can't do that, right?" Tucker says even though he kinda sees where Junior is coming from. Still, that kind of thinking is what leads to Junior being suspended from school for fighting.
Junior crosses his arms mutinously. “You said I should always stick up for my friends,” he reminds Tucker, giving him an accusatory look like Tucker was caught lying to him or something,
“Well, yeah, but…”
“And you said I shouldn’t let assholes push me around!"
That’s true, he did say that, but there’s no way Tucker’s letting a nine year old win this conversation. “I also said you shouldn’t be fighting with the other kids, didn’t I?” he points out.
Junior shakes his head ferociously. “No!” he exclaims, “You told me I shouldn’t be fighting at school.”
“I—”
Tucker frowns. He can’t remember if he phrased it that way or not, but if Junior remembers it that way then he probably did.
“Just don’t fight, okay?” he says, “It’s only gonna get you in major trouble.”
Junior refuses to answer or even look at him. With a sigh, Tucker starts the car up, hoping that some of what he said got through.
By the time they get home, Junior’s quietness has fully transformed into the silent treatment, though Tucker has no clue what he said to earn himself that kind of response. Regardless, nothing he does can bring Junior out of his mood and the minute they get home Junior practically throws himself out of the car in an effort to get away from him. He barely even waits for Tucker to open the door. Instead, he flies through on his way to his room, darting past his dad like he doesn’t want to be around him. Tucker follows him through, pausing to lock up behind them.
As such, he doesn’t immediately notice that they have a guest.
“Hi, Grif,” he hears Junior say.
“Grif?” Tucker says aloud. He makes a face in confusion, wondering if Junior called him up on the phone and feeling vaguely put out about the possibility. No problem at all, really, just his son being a total traitor and preferring someone else to his dad.
He walks into the living room fully prepared to find Junior sulking on the couch while he talks to Grif about his day, but nothing prepares him for the sight of the other man sitting there in person.
“What the fuck are you doing in my living room?” Tucker asks. He throws his keys onto the coffee table blindly, never taking his eyes off Grif, “And why are you eating my leftovers, dickweed?”
Grif shoves a fork full of pork fried rice in his mouth even as he glares at Tucker."I can’t help it,” he says defensively, “I’m a stress eater!”
Tucker snorts. “And how many times a day are you stressed?”
Grif’s glare intensifies. With a scowl, he takes his fork and jabs it spitefully back in the container, digging with a gusto that doesn’t quite hide how upset he really is. “So what’s up?” Tucker asks, “Why are you so stressed, anyway?”
Grif shoves a huge forkful of food in his mouth.
“Oh, okay,” Tucker says with a huge smirk on his face. Clearly this whole thing is a lot more serious than he first thought. Or a whole lot more embarrassing. Or, heh, maybe even both. “Junior, why don’t you go hang out in your room?”
Junior gives him a baleful look.
“I wasn’t asking, dude,” Tucker tells him, allowing his face to harden in warning. For a second, Junior’s eyes widen in response, but soon enough that antagonistic look is back. Despite that, Junior goes stomping off to his room without a fuss, which means Tucker doesn’t have to make a scene.
As soon as Tucker’s sure Junior’s gone, he flops down next to Grif on the couch. “So what do you have to be stressed out about anyway?” he asks flippantly, “Did Simmons break up with you or something?”
Grif twitches.
“Wait, what?” Tucker says in shock, “Are you fucking serious?”
“Do I look like I’m joking?” Grif replies.
Tucker looks at Dexter Grif’s grim face and tired looking eyes. “No,” he says in a muted voice, "You really don't." He thinks about it for a second, then does the only thing he can think of to make things okay again. "I'll get the beer. And the twinkies."
"I already ate them," Grif replies.
Tucker probably should have figured.
It takes two beers for Grif to finally ease up and tell him what happened between him and Simmons. “Some woman from work asked him out this afternoon,” Grif explains. He takes a large sip of beer as if he desperately needs it, “He said yes.”
Tucker hesitates. “But, uh, don’t you two have a thing?” he asks, though thing isn’t the right word for whatever Grif and Simmons are. Nobody has ever understood it completely, but everyone thought that one way or another they’d be together forever.
Everybody but Simmons apparently.
Grif snorts.
“That wasn’t a yes,” Tucker points out. He frowns, reevaluating everything he’s known about them in the last fifteen years and wondering how he could have missed that. “Seriously, I thought you were married or something.”
“I told you to shut up about that!”
Tucker’s hands fly up defensively. “Whoa, did I hit a nerve?” he says, immediately feeling like a dick when the comment causes Grif’s face to scrunch up in visible pain. “Uh, sorry, dude. I just meant…”
“I know what you goddamn meant.”
For a couple of minutes, the only audible sound in the living room is the sound of beer being placed on the table following every sip from the can. Even Epsilon keeps quiet when he enters the room, forgoing his usual greeting to Tucker.
“So who asked him out anyway?” Tucker says, sounding unusually subdued even to his own ears. He hesitates before asking his next question, not exactly eager to piss Grif off further, but curious enough to want to know.“Was it Jensen?”
Grif scoffs. “And ruin that thing she’s got going on with Andersmith?”
Tucker startles in his chair. “Wait, what?”
Grif ignores him in favor of getting up from his seat. “Tell me you have more leftovers somewhere,” he grumbles on his way to the kitchen.
Tucker quickly scrambles to follow, more to protect his pantry than anything else. "The only leftovers I have left are Junior's," he tells Grif, "And he's gonna need something to eat tonight while Wash and I are on our date."
The refrigerator door opens and promptly slams shut again. Tucker winces at the sound of it, reluctantly admitting to himself that he maybe shouldn’t have brought up dates or dating for a few more days. Or until Grif gets over it, whatever.
Tucker pushes Grif aside and opens up the freezer, pulling out a pack of hotdogs as a peace offering. “You can have some of these,” Tucker offers, “I’ll even cook them for you so you don’t have to eat them cold.”
“Deal,” Grif says.
He throws himself down at the kitchen table, just watching Tucker as he fills a pot with water and dumps half the franks inside.
Grif clears his throat pointedly.
“Seriously, dude?” Tucker exclaims, “How many of these are you planning on eating?” But despite his complaints, Tucker doesn’t hesitate to put a couple more in, reasoning with himself that he could always buy more on the way home from work tomorrow.
"I told you, I'm a—"
"Stress eater. Yeah, I know."
Silence falls over them, comfortable and companionable, and soon the only noise in the room is the sound of the water boiling in the pot. When Grif moves toward the pantry, Tucker takes it as his cue to talk.
“Okay, look,” Tucker begins, “It’s cool with me if you wanna stick around here and eat all my food while I’m out with Wash, but you’ve gotta tell me if you’re staying or not so I know whether to call Sheila up and cancel.”
Grif makes a face. “I’m not watching your kid for you.”
“Yeah, well I’m not paying Sheila to babysit two people instead of one!”
"Shut up, Tucker. I don't need to be babysat."
"People who try to eat a whole pack of hotdogs in one sitting definitely need to be watched," Tucker says, "Besides, if you stay it'll mean you get to drink a bunch of beer you don’t have to pay for and you don't have to walk home tonight."
Grif looks like that only just occurred to him.
"So are you staying or what?" Tucker asks.
Grif hems and haws over it for a second, but eventually his own laziness wins out over anything else. "Fine," Grif says petulantly, "But I'm not cleaning up any messes if he wets the bed or blows chunks over everything."
Tucker rolls his eyes. "Junior hasn't wet the bed in years."
"I notice you didn't say anything about him throwing up."
Grif’s going through some shit right now, which is the only reason that Tucker doesn’t act like a douchebag and do anything like smirk evilly. "Relax,” he says instead, “Just don't have him eat any candy or junk food and he should be fine tonight."
“He better be!” Grif replies.
Tucker raises his eyes skyward and fights the urge to roll them again. He never thought Grif was the type to be overdramatic--failing any bat-related incidents--but here he is acting like he’s never babysat before when Tucker knows for a fact that he raised his own sister.
Sometimes his friends are so incredibly stupid that Tucker doesn’t know how to handle it.
“Whatever, it’ll be fine,” Tucker says, “But I have to go get ready for my thing with Wash now, okay? So just eat your hotdogs and give Junior his leftovers if he pops his head out of his room for food.”
Grif ignores him, already digging through his pantry for bread.
“Did you hear me?”
Grif rolls his eyes. “Don’t talk to me like I’m your fucking kid.”
Tucker scoffs as he pushes away from the counter. “You think I talk to my kid this way?” he responds, “No fucking way. I respect him a whole lot more than I do you.”
Grif makes a rude gesture with the loaf of bread.
Tucker has to fight the urge to laugh along. Instead, he shakes his head as he moves toward the kitchen door, mind already shifting to a new topic as he tries to figure out how to tell North what’s going on with Theta and the others.
Junior kicked their asses bcuz the other kids were making fun of Theta, he winds up texting, Bcuz Theta didn’t want 2 sneak out tonight. So watch out 4 that.
He waits a couple of minutes for the reply. Then he waits another few. Ten minutes later, when Tucker is finally convinced that North somehow didn’t get his message, his phone chimes with the sound of a new one.
Thanks, North finally answers, I’ll make sure to keep an eye on them.
Tucker doesn’t think he’s imagining the chill in the reply. He doesn’t envy those kids at all; North may look like a big ol’ softy--and he is--but inside him is a steel core that nothing in the world can break.
He is a freelancer after all.
But oh well. With the exception of fielding calls from some angry parents and deciding how he’s going to punish Junior, Tucker’s part in this whole mess is done with. He can move on to less troubling things, like calling up Sheila and getting ready for his date with Wash, both of which he handles with only ten minutes to spare.
Or less, he thinks as he hears the knocking at the door. Leave it to Wash to be early the one day Tucker's running late.
He’s just about to head out the room when his phone beeps one last time. Thinking it’s North with news from the sleepover, Tucker is slow to reach for his phone. When he picks it up, however, it’s from someone completely unexpected.
Got any clue why Carolina nearly bit my head off today?
Yeah, Tucker types back as he walks toward his bedroom door, Church and Tex got married today. He kicks it open, never looking up from his phone, and slowly makes his way to the living room.
There’s a long pause that somehow manages to be filled with questions and exclamation marks. Then, finally, York texts back, They couldn’t have given us some time to get her used to it?
She shouldn’t have needed time to get used to it, Tucker pecks out angrily, She should’ve just come to the fucking wedding.
And with that, he turns his cell phone off for good, shoving it in his pocket with a sigh. If Junior or anybody else needs to get in touch with him, they can always call Washington’s phone instead. For now, Tucker is signing off.
After the long day he’s had, seeing Wash standing in his living room is almost something of a relief. He breathes a sigh--actually breathes a sigh--upon seeing him, as though only Wash can save him from how weird this day has been.
“Hey, Wash,” he says quietly.
Washington smiles. “Hi, Tucker. Are you ready to leave?”
“I really am,” Tucker says.
“Then let's go.”
They're just settling down for dinner when Washington ruins the perfectly good vibes that have been rising in Tucker since they began their date.
"My parents are coming up for a visit."
Tucker pauses with his knife in the air, reeling from the sudden terror coursing through his veins. "Okay," he says as he blindly avoids Wash's eyes, "So do you like the steak or not?"
"I haven't tried it yet," Wash says impatiently, "But Tucker—"
Tucker picks up his knife and puts it back down again, far too queasy to eat his meal."'Cause I went here with Church once and he said it was awesome," he interrupts, "But what the fuck does he know, right?"
"Tucker..."
"I just thought we could try it for ourselves—"
"Tucker!"
A waiter passing by gives them a warning look at the sheer volume of the exclamation, actually halting in the middle of the floor just to judge a couple he knows nothing about. Tucker shoots him a dark look in return, glaring at him until he goes on his way.
Washington sighs. "We're going to have to talk about this eventually."
"No, we're not," Tucker denies.
"I've already told them all about you," Washington tells him, powering stubbornly through Tucker's obstinacy, "They're going to want to meet you."
"But—"
Washington gazes at him, stopping Tucker's protestations mid-sentence. "You're the first real relationship I've had since Frank. They're going to want to meet you."
And when he says it like that Tucker has to give in.
"When are they coming?" he asks reluctantly.
Wash relaxes in the face of Tucker's defeat. "This Saturday," he says with a small smile, "They always come up the first week of August."
But that’s only two days away!
...wait.
"They always come up?" Tucker repeats. He blinks rapidly, suspicion rising along with indignation. "Wait, you knew about this?" Tucker shoots him a betrayed look. "Dude, what the fuck!? Why didn't you warn me earlier?"
“I wasn’t sure if they were coming this year or not,” Washington says a little defensively. He shifts guiltily in his seat, avoiding Tucker's eyes for the moment. “They said they might go to my brother’s house instead."
Tucker stabs at his steak with his fork, picturing Washington’s face the entire while. Wash winces at the sight of it, sighing from deep within his lungs, weary and sad all at once. Something in Tucker’s chest twists at the sight.
“I’ve never met anyone’s parents before,” he blurts out.
Washington startles, nearly knocking his drink over. He catches himself almost absentmindedly, steadying the glass with the tips of his fingers, eyes never leaving Tucker’s face. “You—what?” he asks.
Tucker pointedly takes a bite.
“Tucker...”
He makes his chewing as obvious as possible, motioning to his mouth while making little noises that signify that his mouth is full. Washington—the dick—patiently waits him out, holding his gaze as the minute passes by until there's absolutely nothing left to chew.
“Okay, look,” Tucker says when it becomes evident that he’s not getting out of this without an explanation, “My longest relationship was this chick back in high school who only got with me in the first place to get back at her ex-boyfriend.”
Washington stays very still and doesn’t say a thing.
“It lasted like nine months,” Tucker tells him. “We broke up a week before graduation.” He coughs to disguise how embarrassed he feels, then takes another bite of his steak even though it tastes like sawdust in his mouth.
Slowly, Wash’s hand inches across the table until it’s cupping warmly around Tucker’s own. "You don't have to worry," he says, "Nothing's going to happen."
Tucker seriously doubts that. "I say a lot of dumb shit," he points out, "I'm probably gonna offend them or something." And then Wash will be so pissed off at him that he'll dump Tucker on the spot.
"You'll be fine," Washington says. He gently squeezes Tucker's palm, so warm and welcoming that Tucker can almost forget that everything's probably going to be ruined in a week.
Almost.
"What about Junior?" Tucker asks.
Washington pauses, blinking hard. "What about him?"
"Does he have to meet your family too?"
Washington hesitates. His hand wraps tight around Tucker's for a brief moment, crushing it in its grasp. "I'd like them to meet him," he says haltingly, "But if you don't think it's the right decision, that's fine."
Tucker thinks about what Junior meeting Wash's family would mean for them. It makes everything more serious in a way, because meeting your boyfriend's family is one thing, but introducing their family to yours means something else entirely—especially when kids are involved.
Somehow it means more in the best possible way. Which isn't to say that it isn't completely terrifying, to tell the truth.
Washington's eyes widen in alarm when Tucker starts choking on nothing but air. "Holy fuck, dude," Tucker wheezes as he grabs for his water, "We're officially dating."
"What did you think we were doing before?" Wash says flatly.
"Shut up," Tucker mutters, "You know what I mean."
"I really don't."
"It's like..." Tucker begins. He stops, frustrated, trying to figure out what he means. "It's like it's serious—not that it wasn't before! But yeah, it's like we're in it for the long haul. Like we're...you know what? Just fucking forget it."
"No, I think I understand," Washington says, "You're saying that it feels like we're taking another step in our relationship."
Tucker cringes at how cheesy it sounds. "You don't have to say it like that,” he mutters, fighting the urge to bang his head on the table in embarrassment.
Wash rolls his eyes. "How would you prefer I say it?”
“I don't know. Anyway but that?”
Washington cracks a smile that has Tucker's eyes narrowing automatically. "We could always say that we’re taking our relationship to a new level,” he suggests teasingly, a particular kind of mocking look in his eyes that’s only there when he’s fucking with Tucker.
Tucker throws his napkin at Wash. "Ugh, no! That's even worse!"
Washington starts laughing at the look of disgust on Tucker’s face. “You’re being melodramatic. You know it’s not that bad.”
Tucker sincerely begs to differ. “It fucking sucks, dude,” he proclaims, “It makes us sound like we’re getting married.”
Wash smiles wrily. “And neither of us would want that, would we?”
Tucker thinks about all the problems that suddenly seemed so far away the moment he saw Washington’s face. He thinks about how seeing him felt like breathing clean air for the first time all day, how touching him later felt like touching warmth for the first time all winter.
“Right,” Tucker says.
And for now, he’s telling the absolute truth.