Chapter Text
The treehouse begins with an argument.
Specifically:
"We should build a treehouse."
Wash says this over breakfast.
You lower your coffee slowly.
Huck looks up immediately.
Henri nearly falls out of his chair.
"REALLY?"
Genesis blinks.
"Twee house?"
Wash nods.
"Correct."
You stare.
"A treehouse."
"Yes."
"For the children."
You glance toward Huck automatically.
Because normally—
Projects are Huck's territory.
Not because they should be.
Because they became that way.
After Michael died—
Things broke.
Things always break.
And somehow—
A grieving teenager slowly became the person who fixed them.
Loose cabinets.
Leaky sinks.
Squeaky doors.
Snow shoveling.
Heavy lifting.
Watching younger siblings.
Helping you carry things.
You never asked him to.
That almost makes it worse.
Huck speaks first.
"We could."
Wash looks over.
"You wish to?"
Huck shrugs.
"I mean."
Another shrug.
"I usually build stuff."
Wash notices something.
You notice him noticing.
Wash simply says:
"Excellent."
Huck blinks.
"We shall build together."
The teenager relaxes slightly.
Not much.
But enough.
Saturday arrives.
Tools appear.
Wood appears.
Wash appears holding blueprints.
Actual blueprints.
Huck stares.
"...you made plans."
Wash looks confused.
"Yes."
Huck takes paper.
Studies.
Then:
"...these are good."
Wash smiles slightly.
Because praise from Huck matters too.
Construction begins.
Immediately—
Henri announces:
"I HELP."
Wash kneels.
"You may assist."
Five minutes later—
Everyone discovers helping means:
Holding wrong tools.
Dropping nails.
Talking continuously.
Important work.
Meanwhile—
Real construction starts.
Huck measures.
Wash cuts.
Huck drills.
Wash checks supports.
You watch something strange happen.
Neither fights for control.
Neither steps aside.
They simply—
Work.
Wash points.
"Support beam."
Huck already hands it over.
Huck asks:
"Think we need another brace?"
Wash studies.
"...yes."
The teenager grins slightly.
Because being taken seriously still feels new.
Hours later—
Wash climbs tree.
You immediately dislike this.
"You are climbing."
"Correct."
"You are historically old."
Wash looks offended.
"I am not elderly."
"You are from the eighteenth century."
Wash ignores this.
Then—
His foot slips.
Not much.
Just enough.
Enough for your heart to stop.
Enough for Huck to immediately move.
"PA."
Wash catches himself.
Regains footing.
Everyone freezes.
Wash slowly says:
"...minor complication."
You point aggressively.
"GET DOWN."
Wash obeys.
Immediately.
Because even he knows.
Once safely on ground—
You glare.
Wash clears throat.
"Statistically—"
"Don't."
"...fair."
Before you can continue—
Huck quietly says:
"You okay?"
Wash looks over.
"Yes."
Huck nods.
Then:
"...good."
Because Huck knows what falling looks like.
What losing people looks like.
Wash notices too.
He quietly says:
"I apologize."
Huck blinks.
"For what?"
"For alarming everyone."
The teenager shrugs.
"...you're okay."
Wash nods slowly.
Then:
"You moved quickly."
Huck looks confused.
"You almost fell."
Wash studies him briefly.
Then quietly:
"You have spent considerable time watching over people."
Huck looks away.
"...yeah."
Wash sits beside unfinished treehouse.
"You should know something."
Huck stays quiet.
Wash continues:
"You are allowed to stop."
The teenager immediately answers:
"I know."
Wash looks unconvinced.
Huck sighs.
"I mean."
He kicks dirt.
"Someone had to do stuff."
Wash nods.
"Yes."
Another pause.
"But that someone should not always be you."
Huck looks toward house.
Toward siblings.
Toward you.
Then quietly:
"...kinda hard."
Wash understands.
Probably more than Huck realizes.
So he says:
"We shall divide responsibilities."
Huck looks over.
Wash smiles slightly.
"You may remain handyman."
The teenager snorts.
"Gee thanks."
Wash continues.
"But perhaps you need not be sole handyman."
Something softer appears on Huck's face.
Something relieved.
Construction continues.
This time—
Together.
Later—
The finished treehouse stands proudly.
Small.
Simple.
Perfect.
Genesis climbs carefully.
Henri climbs loudly.
Both disappear inside.
Then tiny faces appear.
"LOOK."
"Twee house."
You smile.
Wash stands beside Huck.
Looking upward.
Quietly:
"Good work."
Huck smiles.
"Yeah."
Then:
"...Michael would've liked this."
The words come quietly.
Unexpectedly.
Wash looks toward treehouse.
Then nods.
"I believe so too."
Huck stays quiet.
Then asks:
"...you gonna help with other stuff too?"
Wash looks confused.
"Of course."
The teenager nods slowly.
Like he's still learning what sharing weight feels like.
You stand beside them.
Looking upward.
At children.
At treehouse.
At the two people who built it.
Wash quietly says:
"...worth nearly falling."
You immediately glare.
Wash sighs.
"...poor choice of phrasing."
Huck laughs.
Really laughs.
And somehow—
That feels important too.