Chapter Text
It starts like this.
With a blue tie.
With a blue tie, a gray shirt and an honorable discharge from the military that left a bad taste on Wash's tongue and the people in his squad dead.
It starts at a coffee shop, with an interview and his blue tie.
"Military huh?"
Wash fidgets under the stare of the man across from him. Gruff demeanor, salt and pepper colored hair, military badges lined all along the back wall of the little coffee shop Wash is currently interviewing at in hopes of a job.
"Yes sir, special forces, discharged for medical."
The man, who had only introduced himself as Sarge hums, gives Wash a good once over. "I'm a military man myself, forced into retirement. Still in my prime if you ask me, took a blast from a vehicle, pinned by my own car. Still fit for duty I say but there just ain't no arguing with these new age doctors. Used to be a man took a hit, got up and kept on truckin'."
Wash tries to hold back a grimace, mind flashing back too quickly to the fires and the screaming.
"You color blind?"
"Wha..?" Wash blinks back to the present, to this interview for a little pointless coffee shop job that's supposed to help him integrate back with society. The Sargent is staring at his blue tie intently. "No sir."
Sarge hums and snaps his little notebook shut with a finality that Wash can feel in his bones.
"Thanks for your time today son, I’ll give ya a call later in the week when I made my decision."
Wash shakes the other man’s hand, knows with certainty that he won’t be receiving any sort of call back and notices how just about everything in the coffee shop is a bright and vibrant red.
It ends with the jingle of a little bell as he pushes open the coffee shop door and heads outside, his blue tie a noose around his neck as he’s strangled with anxiety and fear about what he’s supposed to do.
But what is an ending except the start of a new beginning?
This beginning starts with a cat, hissing and spitting at Wash as he walks across the street to nowhere.
"Hey there," Wash says softly, squatting down to get a look at the cat. He’s under a stand filled with brightly colored flowers, the sun streaming perfectly onto that particular piece of concrete where the cat had been happily dozing until Wash’s shadow had blocked it.
It’s a big tom cat, huge paws and torn up ears from years of too much fighting on the streets. It’s gray with tiny speckled spots of burnt orange fur. He takes a swipe at Wash’s fingers, claws extended and hisses again.
Wash immediately loves him.
He keeps his hand out and still as claws tug at his skin but when he doesn’t react negatively, the cat pulls back and sticks his nose out to give Wash a curious sniff.
"Oh I see you have made friends with Freckles, Freckles loves to make new friends."
Wash looks up at the giant man that now looms above him, all smiles, dimples and a curly head of dark hair.
The cat bumps under Wash’s fingers with a rumble before it winds its way around the giant’s legs, a loud purr erupting from him.
Wash straightens, ready to be on his way with a polite smile and a goodbye to the cat when he notices a red flash of hair coming toward them.
"Hello miss Carolina."
Carolina comes to a stop in front of Wash, turning to the other man. "Hello Caboose."
"Are you here to yell at Tucker?" Caboose asks, an impossibly large smile on his face. "Because it is not lunch time yet and also, yelling at Tucker comes before car time but after nap time."
Wash raises an eyebrow but Carolina just laughs softly. "No I'm not here to yell at Tucker. Hey Wash."
"Boss," he greets.
"How'd the interview go?" Carolina had been the one to get him his interview opportunity, already employed at The Red Shotgun Cafe. Apparently it was a good place for former military to get used to civilian life again and Wash trusted his old CO's judgement.
And he'd somehow royally screwed it up.
"I wouldn't hold my breath for a call back," he mumbles, shuffling his feet at the guilt of his failure.
"That is because Mr. Sargent likes the color red and you are wearing a blue tie," Caboose informs, inserting himself into their conversation. "I would know, he yells out his front door all the time about the dirty blues."
"Huh." Carolina folds her arms, frowning. "I didn't think Grif was serious when he said to wear red."
Wash looks down at his tie, feeling almost personally betrayed by the piece of cloth. "Guess I'm back to job searching."
"Oh are you looking for a job?" Caboose asks, lifting up Freckles. The cat still looks furious but it purrs in Caboose's hands. "Tucker is looking for someone to help him with things because I start too many fires but that is what makes the red and orange flowers, clearly. Stupid Tucker."
Wash glances toward Carolina. "I don't think-"
"What's your name?" Caboose asks at the same time Wash tries to speak.
"Washington," Carolina supplies helpfully.
Before Wash can protest further Caboose is turning to the open door, voice booming. "Tucker! Mr. Washingtub would like a job!"
Wash gives Carolina a hopeless look but she just grins. "Go on Wash, maybe you'll have better luck with Tucker."
"Why do I feel like you're sentencing me to my doom?"
She pats his shoulder and heads across the street for the coffee shop where Wash can see Sarge glowering suspiciously out the front window at them. With a sigh, he turns and follows Caboose into the flower shop.
He isn't sure what he was expecting but the inside is just a normal flower shop. It smells nice, delicate arrangements litter the area in a controlled sort of chaos. The big window by the door streams sunlight into the room, dust particles dancing in its beams. Small knick knacks are scattered among the petals and leaves, little extra things to be purchased by customers. Music filters in from the back room, some sort of electric violin mashup. It feels peaceful, quieter than the coffee shop.
Wash turns his head as he looks around slowly and freezes when he sees who he can only presume is Tucker.
He’s shorter than Wash, his teal shirt riding up his stomach as he stands on tiptoe to water one of the hanging flower pots. His dreads are pulled back into a messy bun, hair spilling out around him and down his shoulders. Flowers are tucked into it, pops of gold and blue color that stand out beautifully against his dark hair and skin. One is tucked behind his ear, the blue petals brushing against his perfect face..
Tucker is radiant.
"Tucker, Tucker, Tucker!" Caboose shouts, breaking the moment of crisis Wash is silently having over the gorgeous man in front of them. "Mr. Washingtub is looking for a job, he could work here with us!"
Tucker turns and Wash is greeted by bright brown eyes, the sun catching the little flecks of gold in his irises. Tucker's gorgeous and then somehow manages to ruin it completely by opening his mouth.
"If we had a garden I'd put our tulips together," Tucker purrs as he saunters over, holding a flower out to Wash. "Bow chicka bow wow."
"Uh," Wash says, trying to recover from the mental brain whiplash he's experiencing. "No thanks."
"Tucker, Mr. Washingtub is looking for a job," Caboose repeats helpfully, bouncing on his toes. "He talked to Mr. Sargent but he is not a red because he is clearly wearing blue and he can be our new best friend!"
Wash sputters in confusion but Tucker scowls, cutting him off.
"Caboose he doesn't want to be your best friend."
"Then he can be our new Church. Which is the same thing"
Immediately Wash sees fury cloud across Tucker's features, teeth biting into his lip hard enough to almost break skin before he simply deflates, sighing. "Caboose go clean something or finish watering the outside plants, I don't care just leave me alone to talk to…" Tucker turns to Wash expectantly.
"Washington, you can just call me Wash," Wash offers, rubbing his neck at the awkward atmosphere.
"Okay, leave me alone to talk to Wash."
Tucker sighs again as Caboose leaves before turning back to Wash. "So you actually want a job or did Caboose just wrangle you into one of his crazy ideas?"
"I am looking for a job, but it's fine, I can go. Carolina just thought I might have some luck here since I apparently did something to offend Sarge across the street."
"Nah, he's just crazy." Tucker eyes Wash up and down. "Carolina huh? You guys banging?"
"Jesus, no!" Wash shakes his head. "She's like family."
"Just checking."
"She's my old CO."
"Military huh? Us too."
Wash barely contains a grumbled, skeptical, 'really' . He feels like this is a waste of time but Tucker hasn't told him to leave yet and Wash does need a job.
"Look if you actually want a job, it's yours. I need someone a couple nights a week to close up and to just help around the store because Caboose is shit at helping out around here. Sound like something you're interested in?"
Wash nods, confused, because certainly it isn't that easy but Tucker's already giving him a drop dead gorgeous smile and offering him a hand to shake.
"Awesome. I'm Tucker, welcome to Blood Gulch Blues. It's nice to meet you Washington."