Chapter Text
Church heard the guitar music over the 8 bit sound effects of his Game Boy. Immediately, he was up and rolling off of his bed, sliding down the hallway and out to the balcony. He dodged the summer sunbeams that heated the smooth wood by jumping into shadows from deck furniture. He could still feel the heat, but it didn't blister his sensitive feet like it would have if he didn't dance around the sun.
He made it to the balcony railing and leaned over, trying to spot the mop of wild dark hair that he knew was down there. Sure enough, Church's friend and closest neighbor was down below, in his family's area, strumming away on a lawn chair. Church knew Wash would have heard him stumble his way across the fire-hot deck, which meant he was deliberately ignoring him. And that just wouldn't do.
"Hey jerkwad!" Church called, reaching over for the rolled-up rope ladder on the balcony railing. "I'm comin' down."
He waited for a protest, and after receiving none, knocked the ladder off the edge of the balcony. Wash's strumming faltered, but he soon enough recovered and watched Church slide down the ladder curiously. Church's dangling foot caught the bottom rung with perfect timing. He swung on the ladder and used the momentum to crash into the cushioned patio couch. Wash continued watching, half-heartedly strumming some easy chords.
"You've perfected that," Wash observed. "I'm impressed."
"You should be," Church replied with a grunt, standing up onto the cooler concrete of the patio, shielded from the sun by Church's balcony. "I'm kind of awesome."
Wash rolled his eyes at that, but Church didn't care. He dragged over Dana's Disney Princess-themed lawn chair and settled down across from Wash. The two stared at each other for a long few seconds, before Wash gave a half-shrug and started playing the guitar again.
"What are you playing?" Church asked after a few seconds. Wash faltered on the guitar and glared at Church.
"I would be playing something if you left me alone," he huffed. Church wasn't near offended. Wash said that kind of stuff all the time. "Why are you down here? Aren't you trying out the Game Boy you got for your birthday?"
"Well, I was," Church mumbled. "But then I heard you playing, and wanted to see what it was 'cause I didn't recognize it and usually I recognize your songs."
Wash looked down at his lap and bit his lip. "It's... a song I'm writing for somebody."
Church lit up. "Oh, man, who?! Someone you like?"
With a shrug, Wash replied, "Kinda? I dunno, I guess I sorta like him," he stuttered when he saw Church's eyes narrow. "Or... her?"
"Don't lie," Church said sternly. "Why didn't you tell me you were gay?!"
"I... don't know," Wash sighed. "I didn't want you to be mad."
Church rolled his eyes so hard his entire head rolled with it. He hoped Wash would get the idea. "I don't care if you get a crush on a boy or a girl," Church threw his arms up and stomped his feet on the ground. "But you gotta tell me about it. That's what best friends do!"
Wash grimaced, and Church faltered. Was he upset because Church called him his best friend? Maybe they weren't best friends, and Church was reading too far into it. That would be embarrassing. Church shrunk back, and there must have been some sort of look on his face, because Wash's eyes widened and he quickly backtracked.
"Sorry," he said quickly. "You're right. I should have told you. Since we're... best friends."
"Why'd you pause there?"
"Pause where?"
"At best friends!" Church stood up and folded his arms. Wash met his gaze defiantly, but stayed seated. "You can just tell me if you don't wanna be my best friend. I'll go home and you can move away this weekend without a goodbye 'cause we won't be friends. And you'll make a bunch of friends in middle school and I probably will too. Maybe," his shoulders slumped. "Probably not."
"You'll make tons of friends," Wash assured. "And we are friends! I just... the person I like?"
Church glared. "What about him? Is he your best friend?"
Wash finally averted his gaze. Church grinned smugly. He won that stare-off. He usually does.
Maybe if he was thinking clearly, he would have already picked up on what Wash had been saying. But Church was a little bit angry at that point, and he never thought clearly when he was angry. It annoyed people, which was why he knew he wasn't going to make friends in middle school. He was a hopeless case.
"Yes, he is," Wash finally choked out. "He's, well, I was going to wait until we were older to tell him, but now dad is getting shipped out and we have to go with him and live on a stupid base. So... it's you, okay?"
Church blinked. Wash must have sensed his confusion, because he took a deep breath and repeated, "The person I like is you."
Church's jaw dropped. "Oh," he said, sitting back down into the chair. Wash was watching him uneasily, grey eyes wide. "That's cool."
"What?" Wash said, strangled. "That's... cool?!"
Church leaned back with his hands up. "What am I supposed to say?!"
Wash closed his mouth tightly, pressing his lips together. The neighbor's dog started barking, and the sound was immediately followed by a loud whining noise and some loud man screaming. As usual.
"...I don't know."
Church frowned at that, staring down at his stubby nails and skinny fingers. One time, he and Wash had compared their hand sizes. Church had longer fingers, but Wash had bigger hands. Church didn't think that was fair, but Wash was seven months older than Church.
At some point, Wash went back to strumming his guitar, so Church let his eyes fall shut and listen to the tone. It was something familiar this time, which made sense, since Wash wouldn't want to spoil Church's song for him.
"Can you sing?" Church asked. Wash looked up, startled.
"If you want," Wash answered hesitantly. Church nodded, so Wash started strumming another tune of some kind. "My ancestors planted some sequoias by a road, I've driven down that road since I was born..."
Church stood up, holding the chair by its handles against his hunched back. He waddled over and turned around, planting the seat right beside Wash.
"...I would chop them all down just for you," Wash continued singing. Church closed his eyes once more and, once his body started feeling heavy, he let himself slump against Wash's side. His head rested on Wash's shoulder, and after some bumping and fumbling, Church wound his arm in-between Wash's arm and side.
"Anything for you... all of this is true... But the best story that I could ever tell, is the one where I am growing old with you."
When the music stopped, Church startled awake. He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, confused to hear crickets chirping, until he looked up and saw the sun setting behind the trees in their yard. he glanced at Wash, who gave him a smile before busying himself with his guitar case.
Church waited for a lull in the cricket chirping before turning to Wash and asking, "How old do you have to be to kiss someone?"
Wash froze, slowly straightening up and turning to stare at Church.
"Cause I know you gotta be Grown Up to get married," Church explained. "But there's no special age for kissing, right? I heard that some people kiss in kindergarten!"
Wash stuttered for a moment. "Uh, I don't know? My sister kisses boys and she's twelve, so I dunno, maybe you have to be twelve?" He shook his head and stared at Church with a tense jaw. "Why do you want to know?"
Church shrugged. "I kinda wanna kiss you."
Wash looked around slyly, a nervous smile growing on his face. Church blushed when he understood what Wash was doing.
"We can kiss if you want," Wash said quietly, leaning towards Church slowly, unsure. "Nobody can get mad at us, 'cause we're alone."
Church smiled and hunched his shoulders up to his ears. But he, too, started leaning forward.
"How do we..?" Wash gestured to their lips. Church shrugged and smiled shyly.
"I dunno, like they do on TV?" Church asked, reaching trembling hands out to grab either side of Wash's face. "Like..." Church pulled Wash forward until their foreheads were touching. Wash started snickering as Church went cross-eyed unintentionally to look at Wash's nose. "Well that is gonna get in the way. Stupid big nose."
"Your breath smells," Wash snarked back, though his voice was barely a whisper. Church felt Wash's hands grab his elbows. "This is okay, right?"
"Y-yeah," Church whispered. Before he lost his nerve, Church closed the final bit of distance, pressing their lips together. Unfortunately, since Church practically yanked Wash's face towards his own, it hurt like hell, and they separated quickly. "Ow! Dammit!"
"I think my lip is bleeding," Wash grumbled. "That wasn't fun at all."
Church felt his face grow hotter than ever, tears welling in his eyes. "...I messed it up."
Wash turned to Church quickly, waving his arms back and forth. "No, no, it's okay!" He grabbed Church's chin and tilted it up slightly. Without hesitating, Wash leaned forward and pressed his lips gently to Church's. This time, they stuck together for a very long time, though neither wanted to or knew how to move their lips against each other's. Church felt like time had almost stopped, and it wasn't until the neighbor's dog started barking again that they separated.
While the angry old man next door yelled at his annoying dog, Church and Wash stared at each other with wide eyes. Slowly, Church slid his tongue out to run over his trembling lips. He cringed when he tasted blood.
"Do we have to get married now?" Wash joked. Church started laughing and wiped his mouth. Wash frowned. "That's rude, don't wipe my kiss away."
"Not my fault you're bad at kissing," Church sneered, but couldn't keep the smile off his face. "But... if you want."
"If I want what?"
"To get married," Church shrugged, staring at the setting sun, hidden partially by the tall evergreens along the perimeter of their yard. "When we're Grown Ups."
Wash nodded, hearing the sound of his mom's car locking from the driveway. "I'd like that." Wash said firmly. He stood up and helped Church to his feet, too. "Want to stay for dinner?"
Church shook his head. "I have leftovers. Dad's gonna get mad if I don't eat it 'cause then it'll go bad and be a waste. But you can come up later and we can play games or something?"
Wash shrugged. "I'll ask. Keep your walkie talkie on."
Church laughed and saluted Wash, standing up straight. "Affirmative, Agent Washington."
Church knew Wash's mom said yes every time Wash asked to go to Church's since it was just upstairs and Wash always left his walkie talkie behind.
So while Church waited for Wash to finish dinner, he cleaned up his room and put on a clean shirt that wasn't wrinkled at all. It was silly, but he wanted to impress Wash. If they were going to get married one day, it wouldn't hurt Church to put on a nicer shirt.
That would be the last sleepover for many, many years.
--
Church actually did wind up making friends in middle school. It started with Tucker, who he sat beside in homeroom. He was doodling in his notebook, so Church started doodling along, and soon enough they had filled an entire two pages with an impromptu stick figure war. Tucker met Grif in their next class, and met Simmons alongside him. The three of them, at lunch, met up with Church again and Grif and Simmons introduced them to Donut. From there, they met Lopez, and last but not least, Caboose.
As grateful as Church was for his friends, it was still overwhelming. There were a lot of friends, and they all had other friends, and Church was never really the kind of kid who had a lot of friends. Eventually, all these new friends started weaning him away from his old memories from the previous summer. He never really forgot about Wash, and Church was sure they would get along if they ever met again, but he lived so far away and Church's new friends were with him.
In eighth grade, Tucker kissed a girl for the first time, and bragged about it for ages. Nobody else in their group had kissed anyone before, except Church, but maybe a bit of his ten year old self was left over because he didn't want to tell anyone about his first kiss. It just seemed like such a precious memory, even with the annoying dog and loud crickets.
--
Wash had trouble making friends in middle school. By the time he got settled into his new home, school was nearly starting. The back to school craze made it impossible for Wash to get out and meet any new friends, which made the first day a lot scarier than it should have been. Everybody seemed to have friends from elementary school, and all these friends got together into cliques, which left Wash the odd one out.
It was so much more confusing than elementary school, too, so Wash found himself slipping through the cracks. He missed bells, skipped classes entirely, and even got into a couple of fights. His grades were in the tank by seventh grade, and he had never known his mother as an angry person, but the stress of the move plus the stress of her husband being in the army plus Wash's failing grades and Crystal's nineteen year old boyfriend? She started slipping through the cracks, too.
By eighth grade, Wash was staying out late, handing in homework months late, getting into fights he wanted to lose just to get himself hurt, and hearing things nobody else should. He also saw things sometimes, too. It was strange, and made even the small amount of friends he'd accumulated keep their distance, but Wash adapted. He adapted, and he survived.
--
High school was a blur of pressure, caffeine, and lots of loud screaming. Church floated through it with the current, barely keeping his head above water. His father had gotten harsher, a nicotine addiction had reared its head, and Texas showed up. That on top of the homework, on top of tutoring his friends, on top of the strange instances where he would seemingly sleepwalk through his day... it was hell.
But it was manageable hell. Church got a girlfriend to finally replace the taste of blood on his bottom lip with strawberry lipstick, his friends stuck with him no matter how many times he thought he'd blown it, and the schoolwork was easy enough.
He graduated with high grades and tossed the rest of his inhibitions away with his graduation cap right after. He was too drunk to remember the after party.
From there, he went to the university of his choice, majoring in psychology. Through that, he did some reading on Dissociative Identity Disorder, and started looking into himself and what he had been going through. After many epiphanies and much more coaxing, he met the others, and finally set sail against the current. He changed his major to photography, since that was something all of them could appreciate in their own ways, and went home every summer to watch the sunset while the crickets chirped their hearts out.
--
Halfway through high school, the only thing that kept that gun away from Wash's head was the pact he made as a ten year old. How awful would it have been for Church to see his fiance's name on national news as another teen suicide. And that was the best case. The worst would've been Wash disappearing without a trace. No news, nothing. Church would've gone his entire life without a clue as to what happened to David Washington.
Unfortunately, the most healthy way a seventeen year old Wash knew to deal with his suicidal tendencies was to follow in his dead father's footsteps and jump up to don that army green. He left home in a whirlwind that nobody could have predicted, and did everything he could to kill himself for four years straight.
The irony is that he finally made friends. Fellow misfits and outcasts like him, imprinting their own personal demons on the faces of the soldiers they killed. York said it was the only thing that made it bearable. South agreed, as she so drunkenly admitted one night, tears streaming down her face. Even Wyoming twitched at her side, eyes glazed over to either keep tears in or keep the world out.
North admitted to liking it, deep down, but that knowledge of himself tore him apart. Texas claimed it was all she knew, and everybody believed her. Florida said it was for sinful release, Maine was just following orders, Connie wanted to be something, and slowly but surely, Wash started wondering if he was the weird one.
Because when he killed someone, he didn't feel a thing.
--
Church stood at the airport gate, bouncing on the balls of his feet. The Director had gone off somewhere, to do something or another. Church wasn't surprised that he didn't want to see Carolina come out of the gate. Not just because he was an asshole, but also because it would remind him too much of Allison. Even though Church hadn't know the woman, he could respect that.
Her hair was half brown, having grown from the roots over the years, but Church would still recognize that shock-red ponytail anywhere. She scanned the crowd, saw Church, waved, and then grabbed another soldier. They both rushed over, and after giving Carolina a quick hug, he turned his attention curiously to the other.
His hair was bleach blond, his skin was an even darker brown, his freckles had been replaced with scars on his nose, cheekbone, and jaw. But he gazed at Church the same way, with a confused frown and harsh grey eyes. His shoulders were broad, he was a few inches taller than Church, and after a moment of staring, he held out a hand.
Still much larger than Church's, but Church took it anyway and shook.
"You went blond." Church pointed out once their hands dropped. Wash coughed quietly and ran a hand through his hair, staring desperately at a retreating Carolina. Probably off to find the Director.
"Yeah," Wash finally said. Church clenched his fists at the sound of his voice, scratchy and gruff yet so much similar. He glanced at the camera bag on Church's hip. "You got a camera?"
"Yep," Church replied curtly. "You... joined the army."
Wash chuckled. "Yeah. Not my smartest call."
"No shit," Church felt a smile coming on. "What, did you have a death wish?"
Wash's face darkened. Church cocked his head, oblivious to what was going on in Wash's head.
"I got DID," Church blurted. Wash blinked at him, confused. "Dissociative Identity Disorder?" He pointed to his head and spun his finger in a circle. "I've got some roommates. In my brain."
Wash's face softened. "Oh," he said dumbly. "That's... nice. I have schizophrenia."
"Really?" Church raised an eyebrow. "Is that why you're here, and not still getting yourself brutally slaughtered?"
Wash nodded. "Technically, I'm supposed to serve another four years. But the army doesn't want crazy people."
Church went quiet, looking down at his fiddling fingers. "...I might."
Wash gave Church a concerned look. "We were ten, Church, if you don't want-"
"Do you want to go out with me?" Church interrupted, staring harshly at Wash, who still had his mouth half open to form the rest of his sentence. Church took a small step back. "Sorry, I just had to ask before I... didn't."
Wash nodded. "Believe me, I understand." His eyes raked Church's body, eyebrows rising at a steady pace. "I do want to go out with you. But I need to confess something, just in case it's a dealbreaker."
Church creased his brows, but nodded.
"I don't play guitar anymore." Wash admitted, shifting his army bag on his shoulder. Church cracked a grin and punched Wash's arm lightly.
"That's cool," Church said. "I know a banjo player. And a ukulele player. And what's that one flute that looks like a penis?"
"What?"
"Oh, and Tucker claims to know how to play the guitar," Church went on, even though Wash looked completely lost. "And Caboose can play the drums surprisingly well. We all joke about being in a band together, but we don't have a... singer..." Church glanced up at Wash. "Do you still sing?"
Wash paused. "I don't know."
And in that moment, Wash looked so much like the shy, nervous boy sitting across from Church eleven years ago, leaning in close. So Church, like he did back then, leaned up and closed the distance. The kiss was even more innocent than the first, just a brush of lips at the corner of Wash's mouth. When Church plopped back onto his heels, he wasn't expecting Wash to still look so lost and confused.
"Hey, are you okay?" Church asked. Wash immediately shook his head.
"No, I'm not," Wash sighed. "But I'll get there."
Church nodded. "Yup. And I'll help."
Wash grimaced. "I don't think you know what you're getting into."
"Probably not," Church admitted. "But if there's one thing I've learned in the last eleven years, it's that at the end of the day, you've just got to jump in and wing it."
Wash chuckled dryly, and Church winced at how pained it sounded. "Words to live by, really," the sarcasm dripped from his voice. "And when did you learn such important life lessons?"
"Oh, man, let me tell you about the guys," Church started excitedly. "So I met them in sixth grade..."