I pretty much wrote this for the last line. Set in the future of a Wash/fem!York AU where she breaks him out of Project Freelancer; at this point they’ve been married several years, the war is over, and so forth.
Or: I am a giant sucker for writing Wash as a dad. Oops.
She’s always kept Wash on a routine, ever since she broke him out of Project Freelancer, and though at first it had simply been one of the treatments they’d used to help bring him back to sanity, it’s become a regular part of their lives in the years since. York knows that by the time she gets home from work every day, he and Teddy will be flopped on the couch watching cartoons after a long day out and about, the cats curled up at Wash’s side.
Teddy’s old enough that he doesn’t take naps anymore, but she’s found the two of them curled up together more than once, and sometimes she doesn’t bother to disturb them, just settling onto the couch beside them and wrapping her arms around her two favorite men. There’s nothing like the way Wash smiles at her when he wakes, turning to press a kiss against her cheek, and Teddy never fails to light up at the sight of her, crawling over Wash’s lap and into hers with a grin so wide she wonders how it even fits on his face.
She knows things can’t stay this way forever, but they’re good now, and honestly, after all the shit they’ve been through, York’s glad for it.
They spend Sundays at the park around the corner, and Wash has improved his cooking enough that York can trust him to make a couple sandwiches for a picnic lunch. Delta always stays by her side, when they go out, even if there are other dogs running around the park, and York can’t help but think that for all the ways the little brown retriever is nothing like the AI he’s named for, he always seems to know when she’s aching for his company.
Teddy’s always full of energy, bursting at the seams, and she tries to give Wash a break on the weekends, knowing he’s worn out from looking after their son every day, but some days all Teddy wants is to play with his dad. York gives both of them a wide smile as Teddy tugs Wash towards the open field, pushing the baseball glove at him, and just seeing the way Wash reacts to him, letting out a mock sigh as he pulls it on, is worth every minute she’s away from them.
York’s always encouraged Wash to find things he likes to occupy his time, and to leave the business of making money for them to live on to her, but not even in her wildest dreams had she thought he’d take so well to fatherhood. He’s more content spending his time looking after Teddy than he ever was in the long months he spent rehabilitating, once Epsilon had loosed his grip on the tattered remains of his mind. Every now and then, she’d thought about suggesting that he find something more, something to make him feel like he’s doing something productive, but he’d loved spending time with Teddy so much that it turned into a moot point, after time.
Teddy is their lives now, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.
York leans back on the ratty old picnic blanket, the one she knows she really ought to replace one of these days, and curls one arm around Delta, fingers playing against his smooth green collar. Her other hand slips down over her stomach, over the curve she’s still getting used to all over again, and just watches Wash and Teddy run back and forth, tossing a baseball back and forth under the summer sun.
“Dad! Hey, Dad!” York just smiles to herself as Teddy jumps up, throwing the ball as hard as he can into Wash’s glove, and though he’s never been the loudest child his words carry across the wind. “How was that?”
“That,” Wash calls back, beaming back at his son with all the pride in the world, “was the best throw ever. Of all time.”
Reblogging because it’s father’s day and it’s the best stupidly cute fic I have. Deal with it.