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Tweak says, "**belch**"

ᴍɪsᴛᴇʀ ᴡɪsᴅᴏᴍ (

wisdoms) wrote in

valarlogs,
@ 2017-07-09 20:44:00

Who: Pete Wisdom & Wash (with Amelia)
What: Feeding the ex-Marine and friend
When: Early July
Where: Firestarter's House
Rating/Warnings: Very low!
Status: Complete

It had been a while since the last time Wash had paid a visit to the home of the Wisdom Family. In his defense, between his job at the Agency, bounty hunting and putting in a few hours at the Ranch whenever he could, Wash hadn’t had a lot of time. Whatever spare time he’d had he’d spent drowning in a bottle, as Carolina had put it. He’d cleaned up, gotten sober. Then had come helping Gale with his wedding, coming to the realization that he was in love with an honest to god Disney Princess. Then he was in a coma for three weeks. Not to mention all the things Orange County threw around at random, and of course the Dreams.

So needless to say, Wash had been pretty busy the last year or so. Not that was any kind of excuse. He and Pete weren’t the closest of friends, but Pete had gotten Wash in the door when it came to bounty hunting. The two worked together at the Agency and coincidentally even worked in the same department. They saw each other often enough, worked together, shot the shit. You would have thought Wash would have visited more often.

So the next time Pete invited him over, Wash accepted. He hadn’t seen little Amelia in a while either.

Pete didn’t have a lot of close friends - it just took him awhile to open up, was all, and that would probably never change. He didn’t trust easily, a defence mechanism which was ingrained deeply within him. But he’d known Wash for awhile, and he liked Wash - lately, he found himself especially concerned for the young ex-Marine, since Wisdom knew that the fucking dreams could put someone through the ringer (sometimes literally). He had his froclicking-wth-animals-Disney princess true love, and his sister, but who knew - maybe he wouldn’t mind a grumpy Englishman in his life looking out for him too.

It was like he was someone’s fucking mum or whatever, because Wisdom had made a fresh Shepherd’s pie since he’d had a hankering for it lately - he cooked the elaborate dish about as often as he trusted someone so, needless to say, not terribly often. However, he’d found an actual, honest-to-goodness British grocer in the OC so he’d been delighted to discover a place where he could get things like blood sausage, Jaffa cakes, and good lamb and actual English peas for the pie.

The house smelled wonderful. Lina could easily polish off Shepherd’s pie by her lonesome, but Pete would give a good chunk of it away to Wash since he doubted the fellow cooked much either. Scooping Amelia up and balancing her on his hip (her hair was getting so dark, her eyes very blue like his), he went to answer the door.

“Come on in. Been awhile since you’ve been here, hm? I hope you didn’t get lost.”

Wash wasn’t used to people being concerned about him. He and Carolina were still working out their relationship as siblings. Sometimes it was just easier staying in the more familiar roles of commanding officer and subordinate. Two roles they adopted easily. And Carolina tended to literally tackle problems. Things she couldn’t physically fight were difficult for her to deal with. Wash was of the opinion the less she had to worry about the better. She already had quite enough on her plate.

As for Anna, well, Wash -- like many people who knew the young woman -- had a desire to protect her and keep that sweet innocence in tact as much as possible. They were going to have to get beyond that, and soon, especially considering Wash was drinking again, and he couldn’t keep hiding that forever.

Pete was different though. The relationship between him and Wash was one of respect, a different kind of respect than Wash had for either his sister or his girlfriend. Pete had been where Wash was now. Their experiences and reasons why were different, but Pete at least knew what it was like. Wash didn’t feel as though he had to lie or pretend around him.

“Yeah, it’s been a while,” Wash answered. “I still remember where you live, though, don’t worry.” He smiled at little Amelia on her father’s hip. Wash hadn’t spent a lot of time around little kids like Amelia, but she sure was cute. He reached out to shake her little hand, “hi, Amelia. You probably don’t remember me, huh?”

Then Pete let him into the house and...wow, it smelled amazing in here. Carolina was starting to flex her cooking muscle and Wash could put together a fairly good casserole, and both of them were pretty talented at making an MRE tolerable, but it had been a long time since Wash had smelled something this good coming from a kitchen. Wash had actually never had a proper shepherd’s pie before. “What is that?” he asked. “It smells good.”

Amelia’s response was a toothy grin and booooooom, one of the words she knew - figures that with a mum and dad like Pete and Lina Wisdom, ‘boom’ would be early on in the vocabulary. “She’d be happy to get reacquainted, I’m sure,” her father chuckled, and then he passed the baby off to Wash - he could hold her for a little bit, maybe get some practise for if and when it was eventually his turn to spawn? Amelia still was thisclose to taking her first steps but hadn’t yet, however, she did like cuddles and bonding with people as they paid her the attention a fire princess like her was deserving of.

As he continued talking, Wisdom went into the kitchen to check on his grand creation. “It’s Shepherd's pie,” he explained. “One of the few things I make better than anyone, mate. But I had a hankering since no pub around here really makes a good one - they’re best found in London. Make yourself at home, by the way,” he motioned with his pot holder-covered hand. “Want anything while this finishes up? I recently bought nearly all the contents of a British grocer in Fullerton, so I’ve got plenty of tea - “ Not his thing, but Lina drank it sometimes and it was good in case guests came ‘round, “...and whatever you Yanks call soda too. Vimto and Tizer.” Just trust him, they were good.

Wash’s face broke into a smile. The word “boom” as a word she said often made utter sense considering who her parents were. Anything else would have been surprising. That smile faltered a moment when the toddler was passed to him. For a moment there was utter panic, but he reacted just the way anyone would when a child was handed to him: he took her. For a brief moment he sort of awkwardly held her under her arms and stared at her. Then something that maybe was instinct kicked in and Amelia was brought in against his side, her legs straddling his torso and one of his arms was placed firmly under her bottom for support and a hand at her back as though Wash was afraid she might fling herself backwards. It was kind of surprising how natural holding her was. Wash was in no rush to become a father. He didn’t exactly have a lot of great examples to follow in his history. Plus, Anna was still too young to become a mother. She still had a lot of things to do before that was even an option for them. But it was good to know that he wouldn’t drop the baby should they ever decide to have one.

“You wanna hang out with me while your pop finishes dinner?” He asked before adjusting her against his side a little. “You’re a cutie, you know that? You’re gonna break some hearts some day.”

Wash followed Pete into the kitchen. “I’ve never had shepherd’s pie before,” he commented. He took the offered seat and adjusted Amelia so she was sitting in her lap and could watch her father cook.

He wasn’t a tea drinker. At all. He wouldn’t know the difference between green tea and black tea even if it was handed to him. But, yeah, soda he knew -- though he would have preferred something a little stronger, but after the talk they’d had at the office a few weeks ago, decided not to press the issue. “One of those sodas would be great, thanks.”

Vimto originally started as some kind of health cordial - it was made from the juice of many fruits, and also some herbs, which put the vim into its name. Pete thought it was delicious, personally, and he found a bottle in the fridge - two bottles, actually - and popped the caps off of both. “Supposedly we’ve got another holiday to London coming up but raiding the grocer will suit in the meantime. Besides, since my father moved to the States I don’t even have him to send care packages over anymore,” Pete sighed. They’d have to get their British treats another way.

He pulled the pie from the oven, checking the consistency of the mashed potatoes, and decided it was just right. Seeing Wash with Amelia also made him grin a bit. “She’s not so scary, is she? I think she quite likes your face.”

“Boom,” said Amelia, making grabby motions with her chubby hands.

Wash had done a bit of traveling when he’d been with the Marines, but it had primarily been to the middle east. He’d been to Europe all of once as a stop over on the way back from a mission. At the time his squad had a lot of steam to blow off, and as a result, Wash didn’t remember a whole lot of where he’d been. Probably England? He remembered something about black pudding and the raucous laughter over spotted dick. Those were English, right?

“Scary?” Wash chuckled a little. “Nah, she’s not scary.” He had a feeling, though, once Amelia was older she would be scary, especially considering who her parents were. But the good kind of scary, if that made any sense.

“Boom,” he said along with the little girl in his lap and mimicked her grabby hand motions. “You like shepherd’s pie, Amelia? Smells pretty good, doesn’t it?”

Those grabby hands went for Wash’s nose, his cheeks, because ooooooh. New shapes for her to play with. “Ya, ya,” she babbled, which was surely agreement. This little piggy loved Shepherd’s pie! Or, really, anything she could put into her mouth if it was tasty. Amelia wasn’t exactly a picky eater (at least not yet), which Pete was grateful for.

“Why, thank you - I think it smells good too,” Pete grinned cheekily, spooning out hearty, heaping portions of the pie. This would be for the adults, and Amelia would have some of these mashed potatoes as well - with cut up chicken pieces. Maybe she’d even use her fork like a proper lady but her father doubted it. “Can you get her set up in her highchair, mate? Just strap her in, she’ll be distracted with food soon enough. And I promise you’ll get the leftovers - I made enough so you could take some with you.”

Wash grunted a little when Amelia shifted in his lap and pressed her chubby little hands against his cheeks and nose. He pulled his head back a little to avoid getting a sharp little baby nail in the eye, because oowww. He didn’t need a whole lot experience with little kids to know that they had no concept about how sharp their nails were, even when trimmed, and that fingers do not belong in eyeballs.

Amelia had both of his cheeks pressed together, making him look a little bit like a fish. “Whaddya doin’ ta my fasch?” He asked the giggling two-year-old. Grey eyes darted up towards Pete when the other man asked him to put Amelia in her high chair. Uh, yeah, sure, that sounded easy enough. Just strap her in, right? How hard could that be?

With Amelia still squishing his cheeks together like silly puddy and seemingly enjoying the scruff that seemed to continuously dominate his face lately, Wash got up and tried to slide Amelia into her high chair. It was almost as easy as Pete made it sound. The trick was to get Amelia to let go of his face so he could actually strap her in.

Oh, now, that was just bloody adorable. Even a hard-ass like Pete Wisdom thought so. Amelia did like scruff, however - her father had his fair share of it, nicely groomed facial hair that the wee poppet loved to poke at whenever she was in a cuddling mood.

“There you go, princess, the sooner you let go of Uncle Wash’s face the sooner you can eat,” Pete promised the piglet, warming up her chicken. She seemed placated by that and grinned with her minimal amount of teeth showing, clapping her hands as she bounced in her highchair.

This pie really did smell divine, he would have to hand it to himself. Pat himself on the back. But alright, anyway. Pete dished them up a healthy portion, plates moved to the table. “Well, now that she’s not fascinated by your nose - “ And what a nice nose it was, don’t get him wrong, “...how’ve you been, I meant to ask? Anything new going on?” Good or bad; talking about life circumstances over Shepherd’s pie, it just warmed the heart.

Were all kids this freaking cute? Wash was chuckling a little when Amelia finally let go of his face so he too could sit down and enjoy dinner.

Wash hadn’t been raised with much in the way of manners. His grandmother had taught him some of the basics when he’d been little. No elbows on the table. Don’t chew with your mouth open. Your napkin goes in your lap. That kind of thing. But it really was the Marines who had ingrained in him a special kind of dinner-time etiquette. He didn’t need to have his food separated anymore (and how would you do that with shepard’s pie, anyway?) But he did wait for Pete to sit and start eating before he started as well.

Once that happened, though, Wash ate as if someone were going to take the food from him. That was a habit he wasn’t soon going to break either, even if he realized he was doing it. He did pause long enough to chew and listen to Pete ask his question. He also somehow remembered to swallow before answering. Grandma would have been proud.

“I’ve been alright, I guess,” he answered with a non-committal shrug. He didn’t say that he was still drinking, but suspected Pete already knew that much. “Carolina is back from...wherever they sent her.” They say you never stop being a marine, and for the most part that was true, except when it came to certain things. Things like security clearances. Wash would never know where his sister went when Uncle Sam shipped her off on a mission and Carolina would never be able to tell him, either. The clearance he’d had in service -- the one that would allow him to at least know what Carolina was doing -- had vanished along with his career.

“She’s alright. I think. She can’t tell me much -- or anything -- about it.” He tried to shrug it off, but the motion was stiff. “She and I went camping up in the mountains over the Fourth. I, uh, I don’t do very well with fireworks and she thought it’d be nice if we could watch them from a distance.”

He watched Amelia eating her chicken a moment before looking back at Pete, “what about you? How you doing?”

“Good, good. Glad she’s back with her family again and alright,” Pete nodded. That redhead was made of tough stuff - she kind of reminded him of Romanoff, in a way. Where you’d have to be a fool to not respect her. “Personally, I’m not a fan of the Fourth either - not one for fireworks, and Yanks are loud enough without them. No offence,” he grinned. Besides, the day was all about giving the finger to the British - obviously the two nationalities had a good relationship now, but all that patriotism on this end sometimes made him roll his eyes in his snooty British way. “It seems better to go someplace quiet for them.” Plus, he knew that many combat veterans had problems on that day - it was a loud, anxiety-ridden time for people who had been through battle and even pets. Guess remained hidden, like she was now - that damn fat cat.

How was he though? Pete considered it. “Can’t complain,” he decided, sipping on his soda. “It’s always somewhat awkward with my father around - we never got along as I was growing up - but him retiring here in the States to be around Amelia more was probably the best thing for him.”

Wash shrugged and grinned back. “None taken,” he said. He’d been abroad in countries that didn’t particularly like Americans. At least most of the British had a dry sense of humor about the whole thing.

“That’s nice that he wants to be around his granddaughter,” Wash said. He thought it was nice, anyway. But he also understood how awkward it might have been. A strained relationship was enough without all the added BS Orange County was known for. “I’m sorry it’s awkward. Do you think it’ll get better, or has that ship sailed?”

“It’s gotten a little better,” Pete admitted. “I think we both want it to, so we’re trying. He’s not exactly a young spring chicken either - I’d hate for something to happen, and for things to never be settled between us.” At least now they’d cleared the air a little; Harold wasn’t a terrible person - just grouchy (like father, like son) and had always gone by the ‘stiff upper lip’ way of things, a strong part of English culture, and never really dealt with his problems.

Sometimes Pete had been guilty of that too (it was partly what killed his relationships in the dreams, even some of them in this world) but he supposed he just needed to find the right person who would inspire him to be better. Like how Lina did. “My mum was killed when I was a kid,” he continued. “For the longest time, we never knew what happened to her. So my father blamed me and my sister - he didn’t say it, of course, but he just took his anger out on us, more like. Emotionally.” Harold never hit them, but being a shitty father could obviously leave its mark even if nothing physical was involved.

Wash listened and for the most part seemed to have forgotten the mostly eaten plate of food. He knew of dysfunctional families. And he could empathize a lot with what Pete was saying. He nodded slowly, the type of nod only someone who had experienced anything similar could offer. “That is a miserable way to grow up,” he said. “Carolina’s mother died when she was young too and Dr. Church wasn’t really Dad Of The Year material. She doesn’t talk much about him,” which in a way was frustrating for Wash, who had spent most of his childhood wanting to know just who his father was. What he had been able to glean from what little she had said and what painfully little he’d found out on his own, the only way Dr. Church knew how to deal with his children was to treat them like experiments. It wasn’t likely that either Carolina or Wash would ever get the chance to make up for lost time. Dr. Church just didn’t seem interested and as far as Carolina seemed to be concerned, even if he was the opportunity for that had long passed.

But it was different for Pete and Wash was happy for him. “I’m glad you’re getting the chance to connect. So long as that’s something you want.”

“Some people just shouldn’t be parents. It’s difficult to let go though. It’s like we always want them to be better, and finally come around,” Pete mused. He imagined that was because parents were meant to love their children unconditionally - when they didn’t, it was heartbreaking, but even if they still didn’t then cutting them out of your life was hard. Sometimes it just had to be done, however. “You and your sister might be better off without the shared sperm donor but who knows. Maybe when he gets really old and grey, he’ll realise he made a lot of mistakes and want to make amends for them. But reconnecting with my father - it’s something I want. For the sake of her - “

He poked Amelia in the belly, and she giggled - of course she was busy swirling shapes with her mashed potatoes on her plate and generally just making a mess, “...and for myself too. Anyway, alright, I didn’t mean to be such a downer for once. The more ridiculous talk can commence now.”

Wash could tell him all about how in looooooove he was or something like that. As long as Pete didn’t feel the need to upchuck before he’d even finished eating. But even so, it was just nice to sit down and talk. There should always be time that, despite the utter madness of their lives.

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