Chapter Text
“Dad. Dad, what are you doing?”
Tucker didn’t answer, too busy repeatedly banging his forehead against the kitchen table with a dull thud. He caught a glimpse of his son’s face in between blows, his curls wild and his dark brown eyes curious. Or maybe perplexed was a better word. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it,” Tucker mumbled, continuing his self-abuse.
“Um...okay. Doesn’t that hurt?” Junior asked, cocking his head at his father questioningly.
“Kinda.” Tucker sighed and sat up, rubbing the sore spot on his forehead as he glowered at the piece of paper on the table as if it had personally wronged him. “I was hoping maybe I was dreaming and I’d wake up if I hit my head enough times.”
“Oh. Well you’re supposed to pinch for that, not hit your head,” the boy informed him simply. “Is something wrong?” Junior was eight years old - pretty crazy when Tucker thought about it, it seemed like just yesterday the kid was shitting his pants and throwing up every six minutes - and so his days of thinking Tucker was just being weird for no reason were over.
Tucker huffed again and shook his head, getting up to make them both a bowl of cereal before he had to take Junior to school. “No, nothing’s wrong. We’ve gotta go up north in a couple of weeks, though. To grandma’s.”
“...we like grandma, though,” Junior said slowly, staring at Tucker like he’d grown another head.
Tucker scoffed quietly, pouring cereal into two bowls and popping the pieces that accidentally escaped onto the counter into his mouth. Yes, Tucker’s mom was a really cool lady and he was looking forward to visiting her. He was less excited about seeing the whole rest of his family at the impromptu reunion she’d planned. Tucker’s mom had a decent-sized house in the upper peninsula of Michigan, way up where you had to drive forty five minutes to get to the grocery store and people laughed if you asked what their wifi network was. It was a nice place, and once you got past the fact that you were completely disconnected from the outside world in any shape or form, it was very relaxing.
However, family reunions were a completely different story. Tucker had pretty much guaranteed himself a spot as black sheep the second he knocked up Junior’s mom at that party in high school. All of his cousins were studying to become lawyers, nurses, teachers, and he was the one who had a kid at seventeen and waited tables for a living. They were also all married or engaged, every single fucking one of them, and every time they had a holiday gathering it was always, Lavernius, when will you bring somebody nice around for us to meet? Lavernius, when are you going to go back to school and start getting serious about your career? Lavernius, you can’t have an entire bottle of cabernet to yourself!
“Yeah, but it’s a family reunion,” Tucker explained, setting the bowl of Fruit Loops in front of Junior and handing him the milk jug. “And my cousins are all dickweeds.”
Junior nodded solemnly in understanding, carefully lifting the milk jug and pouring it onto his cereal with intense concentration. Tucker was glad for that; last time he’d toppled the whole thing over and they’d been fifteen minutes late dropping him off for school. “Do I have to go?” the boy asked, pulling a face.
“Hell yeah you have to go,” Tucker laughed. “If I have to go, so do you! Plus you’re the only kid right now, so everyone’s gonna wanna pinch your cheeks and ask about school and stuff.”
“Oh man, I hate both of those things!” Junior whined, scowling with his bottom lip pushed out a bit.
“Sucks to be you, kid,” Tucker smirked, nudging him under the table with his foot. He laughed through a grimace when Junior kicked him in retaliation. “Jesus, ow! You wearing steel-toed boots or something?”
Junior just grinned like a little shit and carried on eating his cereal. He glanced at the clock and visibly drooped a few inches. “Do I have to go to school today?”
“Yeah, sorry dude,” Tucker told him, shoveling cereal into his mouth as he checked his phone. “Oh for fuck’s sake. Church!” he called into the apartment, rolling his eyes. “Don’t text me from the other room, you fucking nerd!”
“I didn’t feel like yelling across the fucking apartment first thing in the morning!”
“I am not bringing you coffee in bed, what do I look like?!”
There were a few moments of silence, then stomping footsteps that slowly increased in volume until Leonard Church whirled around the corner in only boxers and thick rimmed glasses. He smacked Tucker upside the head as he passed, then yelped as Tucker whipped around and attempted to give him the biggest wedgie of his entire life. Junior watched with vague amusement, pulling his cereal bowl closer to himself to avoid losing it to a flailing limb.
Church eventually escaped the tussle by yanking the back of Tucker’s shirt up and over his head, scampering away as his friend wrestled the garment out of his face. “Dickhead,” Tucker said with a good-natured huff, blowing his dreads away from his face.
“Fuckface,” Church replied, already holding a gigantic mug of black coffee and gulping like his life depended on it. Tucker often wondered if he burned himself doing that, but then he supposed knowing Church, he did it mostly for that reason. “Aren’t you two gonna be late…?” Church asked as an after thought, glancing at the clock with a thick, black eyebrow raised.
Tucker blinked at the time as well and leapt to his feet. “Shit. Balls.” He grabbed Junior’s bowl, ignoring the muffled protests as the boy still had food in his mouth. “Sorry dude, time’s up! Go get your shoes on.”
While Junior scampered off to do as he was told, Tucker eyed Church suspiciously. “So. You gonna maybe, job hunt today? Or at least get out of bed and take a shower? Or are you just gonna lay around and cry about Tex all day, again?”
“Fuck off,” Church snapped at the mention of his recent ex. Tucker thought he would have gotten over it after the tenth break up or so. “I’ll have you know I’m waiting for the right job to come along. I’m not just going to apply to anything, I have very specific skills.”
“Yeah, and those include coding - badly -, Lord of the Rings trivia, and finishing seventy dollar video games in twenty four hours,” Tucker snorted, grabbing his keys off of the counter. “I’m just saying, man, you’d feel better if you actually left the house.”
“Whatever. Take your fucking kid to school,” Church muttered, glowering out the window as he sipped his coffee like a supervillain. Tucker rolled his eyes but didn’t have time to continue the conversation, bidding Church goodbye and rushing toward the door as Junior called for him to hurry up.
***
“So that’s the shit I’m dealing with.”
Grif looked up from his place lounging in the booth across from Tucker, where he was pretty sure his coworker been dozing off the entire time he’d been unloading about his recent issues. “Were you just talking?”
Tucker rolled his eyes so far back he could almost see his brain hemorrhaging. “Yes, dipshit. Are you gonna help me fold this fucking silverware or not? Just because you’re banging the assistant manager doesn’t mean you get to fucking nap all day.”
“I’m not banging Simmons, for the love of God!” Grif snapped, his chill demeanor instantly disappearing. Tucker bowed his head to hide his snickers as several customers looked over from their tables. It was pretty late into the night so there weren’t any families, thankfully, but they still earned some looks.
“Tucker! Grif!” A squeaky voice hissed from somewhere behind them, and Tucker glanced over his shoulder while Grif just pretended he hadn’t heard anything. A tall, gangly, freckled man with orange hair stomped over to them, scowling more at Grif than anyone. “This is a family environment! Seriously, you guys are gonna get me in trouble!”
“Untwist your panties, Simmons,” Grif drawled, rolling his eyes and leaning back like he was planning on going back to sleep. He grunted and nearly lost his balance when Simmons swatted him on the head with a menu. “Hey, what the fuck?”
“You do not get to sleep on the job, Dex! If I catch you again I’ll kick your ass!” Simmons squeaked, before turning on his heel and stalking off to nervously ask some poor family how their meal was that evening.
“...Dex, huh?” Tucker teased, waggling his eyebrows.
“Oh, blow me,” Grif muttered, crossing his arms defensively. He perked up considerably when he caught someone waving at Tucker from across the restaurant; one of the super-hardcore bartenders, Washington. “I could say the same to you about your boyfriend, Tucker.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Tucker said for what felt like the millionth time to the millionth person. He didn’t get quite as defensive about it as Grif, frankly because he wasn’t still convinced that he was straight. But that was another story. “We just hang out a lot. It’s not a thing.”
“Sure, man, I get you. Totally not a thing,” Grif snorted, rolling his eyes. “Could’ve fooled me.”
Tucker lifted a hand to wave him off, then blinked and stared across the restaurant at Wash’s face. He did it long enough that the bartender seemed to feel the eyes on him and glanced over again, raising a blonde eyebrow and looking shiftily from side to side before mouthing ‘what?’
“I’ll be right back,” Tucker mumbled, stepping out from behind the booth where he had been folding silverware and making a beeline for the bar. “Sup, Dave,” he greeted, grinning widely as he saw Wash’s eye twitch in irritation.
“Call me that again and I swear I will not hold back on dousing you in tequila this time,” Wash warned, fixing him with a hard, albeit secretly amused, stare before getting back to expertly mixing three drinks at once. “Did you need something?"
“Yeah. So, um...how much do you love me?”
“...I feel like this is a trick question.”
“Don’t be a dick, dude. I need a huge favor. Like, possibly the biggest favor ever, but it’s really important.”
Wash paused what he was doing, frowning at Tucker and slowly lowering the bottles in his hands. “...okay,” he said carefully, cocking his head in confusion. “Shoot.”
“Okay so, there’s this family reunion my mom is hosting in a few weeks,” Tucker began casually, leaning forward with his elbows on the bar as he watched Wash deliver the drinks. “And like, everyone is gonna be there. All my aunts and uncles and cousins.”
“Ah, right. If I remember correctly, you told me specifically about how your cousin Rich was a ‘money-loving bag of donkey dicks’,” Wash supplied, smirking as he was able to give Tucker his full attention.
“Yep, him and all the others will be there. Plus their significant others,” Tucker told him, avoiding Wash’s eyes.
“Uh huh. And what does this have to do with me?”
Tucker hesitated for a moment, trying to find a good way to phrase it, which always meant he ended up being blunt and a bit of an ass. “I need you to come with me and pretend to be my boyfriend so my family doesn’t think I’m a fuck-up.”
Wash’s hand stilled mid-air as he reached for a rag, withdrawing again to rest on the counter in front of him. He stared at Tucker for a few seconds, mouth opening and closing like he wasn’t sure how he wanted to respond. “Tucker...no.”
“Oh come ooooon!” Tucker whined, draping himself dramatically over the counter and pouting at Wash upside down. “Pleeeeease! They’re all fucking married and like lawyers and shit and I’m just the guy who had a kid in high school!”
“That’s not all you are,” Wash corrected him firmly, then sighed heavily. “Tucker, how would me pretending to be your boyfriend help your case in any way?”
“Because you’re super together, dude!” Tucker insisted, standing up straight again and leaning forward earnestly. “You’re polite, and hard-working, you talk like a fucking nerd, parents love that shit!”
Wash lifted his eyes to the ceiling but without any real feeling, used to the ribbing by now. “Be that as it may -”
“See, nerd talk,” Tucker interjected, grinning and catching the dirty rag Wash threw at his face. “Wash, come on. When have I ever asked you for anything? It’s just a weekend at my mom’s place, it’d just be us and Junior in on it. Piece of cake. Junior’s awesome for keeping secrets.”
Wash straightened his back, crossing his arms over his chest and regarding Tucker with a searching look. “What’s in it for me?” he asked eventually.
Tucker faltered; he honestly wasn’t sure what to do now that he’d gotten this far. “Uh...I dunno, man. What do you want? A gun magazine? The blood of your enemies? Seriously, you bartenders are fucking terrifying.”
“How about you do my laundry for a month?” Wash suggested, grinning when Tucker’s face melted into melodrama all over again at the idea. “You complain and there’s no deal, Tucker.”
“Alright, I’ll do your fucking laundry,” Tucker snapped, glowering at the him. “So, we doing this?”
Wash breathed out heavily through his nose and nodded, holding out his hand to shake. “As much as I’m sure I will regret this the second we end this conversation, yes. We’re doing this.”
“Sweet! Thanks dude!” Tucker chirped, grinning brightly and spinning around to scamper back to his post, completely missing the way the smile put a look on Wash’s face like he’d recently been punched in the head.
“Jesus, Wash,” came a voice from behind him. “Try to watch the facial expressions, people might get the wrong idea.”
“Funny, Carolina,” he said dryly as his bartending partner sidled up beside him. “I didn’t have any expression. I was just discussing something with Tucker.”
“I saw that handshake. What have you let him talk you into now?” she asked with a hint of held back laughter.
“I’m honestly not sure. Just...if I don’t come back to work on Monday, assume I’ve died in the boons of northern Michigan.”
“...sure thing, Wash. Good luck with that.”