Chapter Text
“Who are these people?” Wash’s hand instinctively hovered near his gun, but he looked more baffled than really threatened. He wouldn't grab it. The people swarming around them were unarmed.
Tucker had something else cocked. Bow chicka bow wow. Holy shit, he needed to get out more. “Am I in heaven?” Tucker stared at the dozen— pretty similar looking girls. Seriously; dark curly hair, tall, light brown skin, most of them pretty fit. Were they all related? Wait, why did they look vaguely familiar—
“Hey, that guy’s black, is that Tucker?”
“What the fuck, Ronnie, you don’t just say something like that!”
“His shirt’s teal and this is blue base, so like I can use context clues,” Ronnie shot back.
“That’s not teal. It’s aqua.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Yooo it’s the fabled womanizer!”
“Everybody get your pepper spray,” another joked.
“Yeah, what the fuck is happening?” Tucker asked. All the unfamiliar voices overlapping, all the boobs-- hey, he was a simple guy. He focused on all the new faces instead. They looked familiar; it was like an itch on the edge of his mind. Had he seen them before somewhere? More importantly, who--
“Who are you people?” Wash repeated.
“Ohh, he’s cute too. He’s not one of the gay ones right?”
“You’d bone every guy if you could.”
“Shut up!”
“Straight people are so horny, what’s up with that?”
“Again, what the fuck is happening?” Tucker asked.
“Someone explain who you all are PLEASE.”
———
“Surprise!” Caboose pulled the trigger on his gun, the bullet narrowly missing a very unenthused Wash.
“That’s not confetti…” Caboose set his gun down sheepishly. “Sorry, sorry. I forgot Freckles was at the veterinarian’s.”
Wash sighed. “It’s not that you all aren’t welcome, I just wish this many people weren’t sprung on us as a surprise.”
Caboose pouted. “I’ll ask next time.”
“Please.”
Some hectic introductions had been done while one of the girls went and got Caboose. Tucker could only remember a few. He looked around.
Ms. Caboose was an obvious one. In one word, she looked very huggable, and he had no doubts her kids got those hugs regularly. Ms. Caboose was darker than Tucker, so her kids' light skin was definitely courtesy of their late dad. Caboose had her warm dark eyes. On him, they were full of spacey, childlike wonderment. On her, they were eager and flitted around often, jumping from conversation to conversation. Her large frame was seated in a wheelchair, but her legs didn’t have casts or anything, so probably a permanent situation? He wasn’t sure what etiquette was with that sort of thing, so he figured if she wanted to talk about it she could bring it up. She had a slight accent and occasionally spoke to her kids in Spanish. Most of the time they responded in English, but not always.
Tucker had never heard Caboose speak Spanish. Unless you count the word “taco". Had he understood Lopez this whole time? Psh, Caboose could barely understand English. He doubted his Spanish was much better. Then again, it was Caboose. He was full of surprises.
Shaved-head was Lydia. She was wearing a baggy hoodie and leggings. She was the only sister who wasn’t taller than him. She responded to hi with, “Easy, Tiger. I’m married and my kids aren’t easy to impress. They get that from me.” He hadn’t heard her say a single thing that wasn’t drenched in snark.
The twins were Maria and… Sophie? No, Sephi. That was it. He couldn’t tell if they were identical or just similar looking fraternal, but they’d said they were twins. They said it in unison, and he’d seen enough movies to guess identical. Maria had a natural makeup look and her curly hair was up in a loose bun. Sephi had a colorful canvas on her eyelids, an undercut, and multiple piercings. Telling them apart wouldn’t be a problem.
The rest of the sisters, though… He wasn’t sure he’d get them all down.
“Where’s Carolina?”
“And Sarge?”
“What about Doc and O’Malley?”
Wash held up a hand and counted off the answers. “Forced to take a vacation, chose to take a vacation, I have no idea.”
“Dammit. We never get any stories about Doc. He’s like a mystery.”
“What about Lopez?”
“Hola.”
Tucker turned. Lopez was surveying the scene from the doorway.
One of the sisters— straightened hair pulled behind her ears by silver flower pins— started rapidly patting the floor next to her. “Lopez! Come over here! Sit here!”
(For the benefit of the audience, and my own sanity, I will write the English translation of what Lopez intends to say rather than running it through a translator app as his dialogue is intended to be. Tucker still doesn’t understand Spanish, we’re just omniscient badasses, y’all)
“[What the fuck? I’m not a dog. Bitch.]”
“I know that, just join the circle! Stay awhile! It’ll be fun.”
“[Did you just understand what I said?]”
A chorus of affirmation spread around the circle.
“Nope, totally didn’t, doggie boy.” Lydia smirked.
“Why do you sound like early 2000s google translate?” Mascara, low shirt, leggings. “Michael was right, your Spanish is weird af.”
Lopez froze, his head surveying the room, “Adiós.” He left.
“I say we go robot hunting later.” Maria grinned, “All in favor?”
“I.” Sephi, of course.
“I!” Pigtails and sweatpants— Christina, he remembered.
“I wanna tear his arms off.” Triple braids and glasses.
“You don’t get to join.” Sephi and Maria said.
“Yeah, what the fuck, Tori?” Short flamingo-pink hair. Loose band t-shirt over black sports bra. Ripped jeans.
Tori shrugged. “I wanna start a robot arms collection like my waifu.”
“He canonically has no interest in a new relationship after his wife died,” Pink Hair said. “He can’t be your waifu. Dios.”
“Dio!”
“Jotaro?”
“Shut upppp.”
Tori fingered one of her braids. “He can still be my waifu. I simp respectfully.”