Work Text:
Church never pictured Tex as a mother.
It’s not that he believed she’d be a bad mother, the though just genuinely didn’t occur to him. He doesn’t remember much about his mother, just vague impressions of love, a lullaby in the darkness, a hand stroking his hair when he was sick; none of which are things he associates with Tex. But watching her rock Omega to sleep every night makes him want to forgive her for everything and swear to never hate her again.
Of course things aren’t that easy.
The fact that they are both living in the Blue team tent is both a curse and a god-send. It prevents them from having any real conversations about what happened between them, but it also stops them from having the screaming argument that conversation would inevitably devolve into. So instead they live in a sort of limbo, sharing the care of Omega, timing their rehearsals so one of them is always free to watch their daughter, talking but never really saying anything. Church watches as Tex makes friends with South and 479er, and when she informs him that he will have to watch Omega one night a week so she can drink with them he doesn’t argue.
He catches Wash looking at him sympathetically sometimes but he refuses to say anything.
The rest of Blue team don’t really know how to act around Tex. Caboose is scared of her, holding tight to Freckles’ collar whenever she’s around. Tucker flirts with her, but it seems like he’s doing it more out of habit than any real desire to talk to her. Wash stumbles over his words every time he speaks to her; Church would feel threatened if Wash didn’t have a painfully obvious crush on Tucker. So life in the Blue tent becomes increasingly awkward, until Church finally bites the bullet and goes to talk to his father.
It’s not a conversation he wants to have to repeat but, after a lot of arguing, he gets what he wants.
He finds Tex in the rehearsal tent, practicing a routine on the balance beam. She’s doing a handstand, shifting between positions with controlled ease, strength clear in the defined muscles of her arms. She’s lost any weight she gained from carrying Omega, abdominal muscles tight as she holds her position. Church feels a stab of longing, of desire to touch, and hold her close and never let her leave his sight again, but he buries the impulse beneath his hurt and persona. She puts her feet down, stands, performs a perfect series of cartwheels and flips travelling down the beam and somersaults off the end, landing perfectly in front of him. She meets his eyes but doesn’t say a word, just raising an eyebrow as if to ask why he was staring. As if she didn’t already know why.
“Hey Tex,” he says. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” She shrugs,
“Sure.” They pause.
“In private,” he adds. She heaves a sigh, but follows him when he leads her out of the rehearsal tent and into the tent they store the equipment in. Tex turns to stare at him.
“I talked to my Dad today,” he says.
“And what, you want a medal?”
“Yes, actually, my Dad’s a total fucking douchebag, but that’s not the point.” He stops and takes a breath. “I got us a tent.”
“What?” she says.
“A tent. I got a tent. For us. And for Omega, so we don’t have to share with the idiots anymore.” He looks at her. She hadn’t moved. “You don’t look as happy about this as I hoped you’d be.”
“No shit,” she shouts. “What makes you think I want to share a tent with you?”
“So what, you want to carry on sleeping with those morons?” he shouts back.
“No,” she sounds frustrated, “that’s not the point?”
“Then what is?” his voice breaks. “What is your point, because the last time I looked you were the one who left me, and you were the one who came back. If anyone has a right to be angry then it’s me, so what is your problem?”
“You didn’t ask,” she screams. “You didn’t ask you just went and did it, because you think you’re always right, that you know what’s best. But I’ve spent the last two years looking after my daughter by myself, I do not need you to look after me.”
She storms out.
He doesn’t follow.
He goes to the Blue tent until Tucker shouts at him, saying he’s had enough of watching Church mope like a kicked puppy. Caboose askes where the puppies are and is upset when Tucker tells him there aren’t any, so Church leaves to get away from Caboose’s idiocy as much to stop Tucker bitching at him. He wanders around the Circus, and if anyone asks he is definitely not looking for Tex. He runs into her on the edge of the Circus grounds, reading a story to Omega, who’s sat in her lap, pudgy hands gripping the pages of the book. He moves over and sits next to them. Tex ignores him until she’s finished the book, but Church isn’t listening to her words. Instead he’s caught in the tone of her voice, the warmth she’s never used when talking to him. They only ever seem to shout at each other, to miscommunicate and run away and never actually talk.
He’d like to think they could change.
He knows they probably won’t.
Once the story is done Omega climbs out of her mother’s lap and begins collecting twigs from under the tree. Church just knows she’s going to start throwing them at him in a minute. He takes a deep breath and says,
“We okay?” Tex laughs a little.
“Yeah, Church,” she says, “we’re okay.”
“Good,” he smiles. “Good.” They sit and watch their daughter play for a moment.
“So this tent,” Tex eventually says, “does it come with a proper bed.”
“It’s a tent; why the fuck would it have a proper bed?” Church says, but he’s smiling. “I can probably find a couple of camp beds to push together, is that good enough for you?” Tex thinks about it for a moment.
“I think we can make it work,” she says.
In a moment they’ll have to get up and go back into the Circus. They’ll have to go to the Dining tent and he’ll have to resolutely avoid his father’s gaze while he tries and fails to shovel food into his daughter’s mouth. They’ll avoid getting drawn into the Red’s bickering and go back to the Blue tent for the night. Tucker and Wash will argue and flirt in equal measure, Caboose will sit with his terrifying dog and the kids will stay up until they get cranky and tired. They’ll put the kids to bed and the adults will follow soon after, settling into their separate beds. Caboose will snore, Tucker will wear far fewer clothes than any of them would like and Wash will berate him for it as if he didn’t blush every time he saw Tucker strip. He and Tex will ignore them, lying facing each other with their daughter’s crib between them. They’ll wake up tomorrow and start it all over again, rehearsing and fighting and making up, as they have throughout the entirety of their relationship.
But that’s all later.
Now they sit in the afternoon sun, Tex laughing as Omega pelts Church with sticks, him trying not to swear. His voice is raised but there’s no real anger in it.
They may fight, and occasionally fly, but for now they’re both here. And for now, that’s enough.