Work Text:
Wash wakes slowly; he’s warm, comfortable, safe... no need to rush, so he takes his time, still half asleep.
Sluggish, he realizes that that can’t be right, and sits up in the bed, vision blurred as he blinks the sleep from his eyes. He examines the room, looking for signs of...something.
Nothing is out of place, but something is definitely off. He doesn’t recognize the room, for starters, although he does recognize its contents as his. And Tucker’s. And his-and-Tucker’s.
He looks to the space next to him, confused, and finds Tucker still asleep just like he is every morning, only that doesn’t make sense. He’s wearing Wash’s shirt because he knows Wash still doesn’t like him sleeping naked, but he doesn’t actually remember the shirt or why he knows that.
“Tucker.” No response. Wash gently shakes his shoulder, trying again. “Tucker.”
Tucker groans and attempts to bat his hand away, but he does roll over and open his eyes, squinting up at Wash.
“What,” he grunts, too grumpy at being woken to really make it a question.
“Why,” he starts, but thinks better of finishing his sentence. Why are you in my bed might be cause for alarm and besides it’s Tucker’s bed as well.
It is?
Furrowing his brow, Wash looks away as he thinks, trying to put a picture together with only half the pieces.
“Look it’s too early for this,” Tucker mumbles around a yawn, stretching, languid, before rising. “Just read your diary and I’ll make us coffe.”
“It’s not a diary,” he corrects reflexively and Tucker smiles with a roll of his eyes, fond.
Coming around the bed, he grabs the notebook from the nightstand and places it in Wash’s hands, brushing his hair back from his face to plant a kiss on his forehead as he goes.
“Your glasses are in the drawer, if you need them.”
Tucker leaves the room and Wash starts reading. The first entry is just facts; he was shot, he has cerebral hypoxia, he may experience seizures, difficulty paying attention, and memory loss...
He skips ahead and lands on a dog-eared page that is aggressively underlined in sections:
Met Junior today. Tucker says we’ve met before, but I can’t find the entry. Should really convert this to digital soon, it will make finding specific information so much easier.
Wash idly wonders how long he’s been meaning to do this and checks the page’s date, only to realize he doesn’t know what to compare it to. He flips through the pages again, going to a more recent entry at the back.
Remembered our relationship this morning. Woke Tucker up to celebrate and while I wouldn’t usually go into details, I might forget this tomorrow[...]
“How are you making out?”
Wash looks up from reading to find Tucker watching him, leaning against the doorframe and holding two steaming mugs. Still blushing from what he’d read, he glances down as he closes the book in his lap.
“We’re dating?”
“Engaged, actually,” Tucker answers, sitting at the edge of the bed next to Wash and setting their coffees down, freeing his hands to hold one of Wash’s, his left, gently taping the silver band on his ring finger.
“Oh,” he says, only it’s little more than a breath.
Tucker squeezes his hand once before releasing him, taking his coffee and giving Wash a moment of silence.
He examines the ring on his finger, rubbing the metal warmed from his skin between his thumb and forefinger.
He doesn’t remember his relationship with Tucker; doesn’t remember dating, their first kiss, discussions about the future. He doesn’t remember who proposed, or receiving the ring, or if they’ve planned the wedding at all.
But looking at the ring he has this... impression. He can’t recall the memories, but the feeling is still there.
He’s happy. And so in love, and loved in return.
Wash looks up at Tucker, still watching him, and smiles, only a little shy as he leans forward, left hand cupping Tucker’s cheek and right holding onto his elbow as he kisses him.
Kisses his fiancé.
“I love you,” he says, confident, once he’s pulled away from the kiss, thumb stroking Tucker’s cheek, reverent.
“I know,” Tucker replies, and Wash rolls his eyes as Tucker laughs. He kisses Wash, and he forgives him. “I love you, too.”
- - -
Wash has plans with Carolina today. He tells Tucker so when he suggests that they have morning congratulations-we’re-engaged sex.
“The man forgets he’s engaged, but he remembers brunch plans. Incredible,” Tucker says without annoyance, smiling, so Wash knows he’s only joking.
“Must mean I’m marrying the wrong teal soldier,” he quips back, getting dressed.
Tucker doesn’t respond and Wash worries that he took it too far, looking back to his fiancé still on the bed after pulling his shirt over his head. Tucker’s expression is angry, but exaggerated for humour and he only holds it for a second as Wash looks at him before cracking. He laughs and Wash joins him, stepping closer to kiss him on the forehead like Tucker did for him earlier.
“Love you, gotta go.”
“See you later, Wash.”
Leaving the apartment is a surprise. He had assumed that they were still on Iris, maybe Chorus. Looking around to find that they’re home, on Earth, is a shock and Wash takes a moment and a deep breath to center himself before heading to meet with Carolina.
The restaurant is small and cute, flowers in the window and outdoor seating. He goes inside to find Carolina, and takes a moment to look around; there’s potted ivy hanging from the ceiling, the tables packed, intimate without being too crowded, and there are photos decorating the walls.
And towards the back, sitting alone by the window is Carolina, waving him over.
“Hey, boss,” he says, sitting across from her.
“Hi, Wash.”
A waiter comes over to take their order. He’s already had a coffee this morning, but Wash decides another one couldn’t hurt. Carolina asks for a green tea and Wash gives her a look; she’s never been a fan of tea.
“What?” she says, defensive, as the waiter leaves. “It’s good for you.”
She looks older than he remembers. There are more lines around her eyes and grays in her hair. Thinking back to this morning, he realizes that Tucker had looked older too, he just hadn’t noticed because he was younger than them.
Wash wonders if he looks older, too, and how much time he’s missing.
The waiter comes back with their drinks, cutting off his thoughts and bringing him back to the present.
They small talk. Wash learns that Carolina is visiting from Chorus. Technically, she’s still retired, but she acts as Kimball’s bodyguard from time to time, mostly just to frighten diplomats and keep them from trying anything.
“How are you?”
“I’m engaged,” he tells her, just to say it, try it out. After everything they’ve been through it’s nice to have something so normal and wonderful.
“I know,” she says. He feels guilty, but she doesn’t seem annoyed, only patient and happy for him.
“How long..?”
Carolina hums in thought and takes a sip of her tea, making a face.
“Tucker proposed almost a month ago, but I was helping him plan for weeks before that.”
“You?”
“Yes.”
He tries to imagine what that involved, but he’d never known Carolina to be particularly romantic so he came up short.
“Well, thank you.”
If she notices his awkwardness she doesn’t comment, instead smiling and saying, “of course.”
Struck by a thought, Wash asks her, “Would you be my best man? Best girl, er, woman?”
Carolina laughs, not unkindly, and takes his hands in hers across the table.
“Of course,” she says again, smile brilliant.
Wash doesn’t consider that he’s asked this of her before and that’s why the thought came to him so suddenly, and she doesn’t correct him; she will say yes each time he asks, and cherish the confirmation of their friendship.
“I love you,” she tells him instead, and this he will never forget.
“I love you,” he returns, and he never forgets this, either.
- - -
They talk for a while longer, until Carolina says that she has to pack, that she’s leaving for Chorus again tomorrow morning but she’ll be back for the wedding.
They don’t say goodbye, but Carolina embraces him, kisses his cheek chastely, and he squeezes her hand before watching her leave.
Wash waits until she’s completely out of sight before heading in the other direction, back to his and Tucker’s apartment.
Tucker is in the living room when he gets back, finishing up a call with Junior by the looks of it.
“Hey, Wash! Want to say hi to Junior?”
“Sure.”
He joins Tucker on the couch, suddenly unsure.
“Um, hi,” he starts, giving a little wave to the screen.
“Honk!”
“Uh,” he looks at Tucker, but he just motions for Wash to go on, watching them interact with a smile. “How’s school?”
Junior doesn’t just roll his eyes, but his whole head. “Blarg honk blarg. Blarg.”
“Boring. He’s looking forward to harder classes next year.”
“Oh. Well, uh,” he looks to Tucker again for guidance, but finds none. “Um, that’s good. But don’t bite off more than you can chew.”
Junior seems to laugh, shoulders shaking, and he honks.
“He said ‘whatever, dad.”
Wash inhales sharply and reaches for Tucker’s hand, squeezing tight. Junior shakes his head on screen and makes a gagging noise, followed by a series of blargs and honks.
“Bye, kiddo.”
And then the feed is gone, screen going black as Junior disconnects.
“What- did I-?”
“Nah, he just said if we were gonna be gross that he was done, you’re good.”
“Am I- was he, was that teasing or am I... am I his dad?”
“Oh, Wash,” Tucker sighs affectionately, folding him into his arms. Wash goes willingly, clinging to Tucker’s shirt. “Of course you’re his dad. He loves you.”
Wash doesn’t cry, but it’s a near thing.
He doesn’t remember, but they still want him. They’re a family.
He pulls away just far enough to kiss Tucker, a mixture of desperation, relief, and elation driving the embrace. Tucker holds him in place, hands firmly on his shoulders grounding him, and when he kisses back it’s like a salve, soothing his anxiety.
Tucker deepens the kiss, presses his body against his and Wash goes willingly as he’s pushed back until Tucker is on top of him, bodies parallel.
For a moment, he stops worrying about his memory and lets himself forget.
- - -
Your name is Washington, he’ll start later, finally getting around to making his journal more accessible, starting with the most important information. You were shot. You have cerebral hypoxia and forming new memories is difficult now, but it’s okay because there are people who love you and they’ll always be there for you...