![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
Re-Entry 09: Video/Spam
((Backdated a couple of days to take place after this.))
[Lab and Engine Room Filters]
[Felix, probably unsurprisingly, hasn't let the incident in the CES deter him much. He's still been at work on time every day, seemingly perfectly composed, as ready as ever to keep the ship running and prepare for the port. The only difference at all is that he doesn't go to the CES anymore.
Today, though, he looks rather distracted.]
I'm sorry for the short notice, but I need the day off today. I can tell you why tomorrow.
[Or show them, he hopes.
He hesitates, then switches to--]
[Private to Barbara]
Did you know there was a healer on board?
[Open Spam]
[The process takes a while, and it hurts more than he expected it would... but then, how do you anticipate something like this? For everything he's seen on the Barge, wonders and horrors alike, and even after seeing Charles healed, he'd never even imagined this would be possible until Merlin mentioned it only a few hours ago. He hasn't even really come to grips with the idea before it's happening, before this beneficent stranger's blood is moving into his veins, and suddenly his right leg feels like it's on fire, and--
--then it's now, and he's walking on two legs for the first time in a year. Slowly, carefully. He's not used to it anymore. He's gotten accustomed to the limp. This feels too light and too heavy at the same time -- more volume, less weight -- and the skin, he has skin again, feels too raw, and nothing feels quite as right as he thought it would. But his ankle bends where it's supposed to, and he can feel it when it does. He can walk. He can run, at least once he gets used to it again.
He ends up literally walking the entirety of the Barge, up one deck and down the next. By the time he gets to Level Eight, it's finally sunk in and he's jogging, just because he can.]
[Friends filter -- if you think you're on it, etc.]
[After that, he's kind of exhausted, but in a good way. He's flushed, smiling, bright-eyed like he hasn't been since the flood where he wasn't even himself.]
Hey. Something happened.
[Lab and Engine Room Filters]
[Felix, probably unsurprisingly, hasn't let the incident in the CES deter him much. He's still been at work on time every day, seemingly perfectly composed, as ready as ever to keep the ship running and prepare for the port. The only difference at all is that he doesn't go to the CES anymore.
Today, though, he looks rather distracted.]
I'm sorry for the short notice, but I need the day off today. I can tell you why tomorrow.
[Or show them, he hopes.
He hesitates, then switches to--]
[Private to Barbara]
Did you know there was a healer on board?
[Open Spam]
[The process takes a while, and it hurts more than he expected it would... but then, how do you anticipate something like this? For everything he's seen on the Barge, wonders and horrors alike, and even after seeing Charles healed, he'd never even imagined this would be possible until Merlin mentioned it only a few hours ago. He hasn't even really come to grips with the idea before it's happening, before this beneficent stranger's blood is moving into his veins, and suddenly his right leg feels like it's on fire, and--
--then it's now, and he's walking on two legs for the first time in a year. Slowly, carefully. He's not used to it anymore. He's gotten accustomed to the limp. This feels too light and too heavy at the same time -- more volume, less weight -- and the skin, he has skin again, feels too raw, and nothing feels quite as right as he thought it would. But his ankle bends where it's supposed to, and he can feel it when it does. He can walk. He can run, at least once he gets used to it again.
He ends up literally walking the entirety of the Barge, up one deck and down the next. By the time he gets to Level Eight, it's finally sunk in and he's jogging, just because he can.]
[Friends filter -- if you think you're on it, etc.]
[After that, he's kind of exhausted, but in a good way. He's flushed, smiling, bright-eyed like he hasn't been since the flood where he wasn't even himself.]
Hey. Something happened.
[Spam]
[He straightens up himself and moves to make room for Felix beside him even though there's plenty of space on the couch; the initiated leaning is kind of new but Dean likes it and lifts his arm only to settle it back down loosely around Felix's shoulders. It's easy for him to just go with it for now, and furthermore, he wants to.
It's also easy for Dean to mimic the tilt of Felix's head, studying his legs as well, considering them against one another. In the end though he has to nod, good mood dampening ever so slightly as his eyebrows pull slightly together.] Yeah. I mean... [Dean stretches his out, too, for a moment because it better explains what he means. Not identical, but the same.] Why? Do they feel different?
[Spam]
Which is strange, perhaps, because he's kept his distance in other ways: he hasn't said a word about the incident since that first day in the infirmary, and he hasn't come to visit any more often than his busy schedule allows. But the occasional squeeze of a hand or brushing back an errant strand of hair, things that aren't really thought about...
He frowns and draws the leg he still thinks of as the bad one up against his chest, rubbing a hand over his kneecap.] It just feels... strange. [He pauses, looking down at it for a long second, then admits:] Maybe this was a mistake.
[Spam]
And maybe he craves the extra time he doesn't get, but that's always been true and no one will know that now, either; Dean is happy and attentive when Felix is around, disappointed when he goes, but he's oh so careful not to make a big deal out of it either way. He's not quite himself, but he tries to be and, he thinks, for the most part succeeds.
Case in point: even as he rubs a thumb over the point of Felix's shoulder in a subconscious, soothing motion, his response comes back firm and immediate. Typical Dean strongarming: he may have been suspicious before, but now it's happened, Felix is happy, and Dean is determined it will be okay.]
No. Like you said, what, were you supposed to say no? Screw that.
I'll see if I can find out who it was - we'll figure it out if we have to. Strange how? [He lifts his free hand to reach over as well, a more intent reprise of his earlier inspection if he can get away with it; he doesn't notice himself noticing Felix has been focusing on the kneecap, but he'll start there, fingertips confident and careful now that they've stopped shaking again.
Of course, there's one other easy explanation.] How long has it been since you lost it?
[Spam]
It's been about... [Even he's surprised when he does the mental math, blinking, glancing back at Dean.] Huh. Nine months, give or take. Not counting the missing year. [Which means it's only been seven or so that he's known Dean, and doesn't it feel like longer? It will occur to him, much later, that he's wrong about this, that they don't know each other well enough for it to have been that long. That they actually know a lot less than they should for that amount of time. Right now, though, he's surprised.]
You think I got used to it. [And that might be true, too. He tucks his arms against his chest and presses a hand to his mouth, like he's staring at a computer readout, thinking. Not used to it enough, if so, that's the problem. Not so used to it that it wasn't a liability, and Dean is right to echo his words here, he thinks. How could he have said no?]
[Spam]
And he is, and thorough, feeling around the cartilage, letting his fingers find each muscle, each dip and plane, all the way down from knee to ankle and even the Achilles tendon; he's no doctor, obviously, but he has two legs of his own and he's paying attention and he can't find anything. Dean nods.] Got used to it, or just aren't used to this now. It hasn't even been a day and you've been running around like a kid with his first car all afternoon.
Give it some time. [He leaves off with an affectionate, final pat against Felix's thigh before taking his hand back. Then he adds, just a smidge too hasty to be casual:] And tell me if anything does change so we can deal with it. Or Merlin.
[Spam]
I'm telling you now, aren't I?
[Spam]
What about it, really; either it'll happen or it won't and it's not like Dean has any intention of going anywhere, not like he won't be paying attention, for a while at least. He raised his kid brother with all the secrets and hidden dangers that presented both intentional and ignorant; watching for one, specific problem shouldn't be too hard. He shrugs with the shoulder Felix isn't leaning on.]
Okay. [Then, because he might be tired and he might be still vaguely concerned, but he's still Dean, he smirks and adds:] But I'll be sure to help you keep a real close eye on things and report anything unusual I find.
You know. For science.
[Spam]
[Spam]
[The second part comes as a complete and pleasant surprise, stealing across Dean's face in the quick glance over at Felix and then down at his hand and back. Something warms behind his eyes - something besides the usual heat between them, still locked unviably on the other side of current physical limitations - and something relaxes behind his smile. He doesn't ask people to make time for him and Felix, he suspects, didn't but he's clearly offering to spend at least a bit more of it with him regardless.
So, of course, more teasing.] Maybe I really will teach you to play basketball later. [Or, more seriously:] Shit, or we can just bring dinner back here or something.
[Spam]
Having all that time to himself would be mildly terrifying, but Dean has proven to be a worryingly good distraction. He should go, he realizes, just the way he hadn't stuck around the infirmary too much... Instead, he traces a lazy circle on Dean's thigh and nods.]
Sure. Poker versus triad, basketball versus pyramid, pizza versus sushi...
[Spam]
He's not, himself, worried about the fact he finds it so easy to go along with, comforting. He doesn't think about it either way really, just goes with it, mimicking the movement of Felix's hand over the canvas of his upper arm where Dean leaves his arm slung around. He's smiling - until the last item.]
Sushi? The hell? [He snorts a laugh, shaking his head.] I thought you wanted to be done with algae mush? [A grin, which fades ever so slightly to something more thoughtful, head tilted to see Felix's face.] Before Galactica, before... all that. What'd you do for fun then?
[Spam]
[The question should be a casual one, especially for a seven-month friendship -- this is one of the things he'll realize later they should really have already known -- but it's kind of... not. Not quite, the way Dean's asking it, but also, thinking about the before all that is always fraught with things Felix doesn't want to think about. It's one of the reasons he never lets himself have time off.
He turns back again and shrugs it off, feigning the casualness that isn't quite there.] Studying? Reading? I was a frakking nerd, Dean. I thought you knew that by now.
[Spam]
Was? [The hunter raises both eyebrows to emphasize the tease, but he doesn't pause.] I mean before that. Nerds aren't born nerds, it - [He hesitates, though, because here's Sam again, his first and best reference for all things nerd. And actually, he kind of always had been from the moment he learned to read.
But there'd been a point before that where he'd only wanted to play with Dean's plastic soldiers and legos, and it's a memory that combines with the too-recent birthday to make him shy away from it rather than say anything more specific. He clears his throat and presses ahead.] Movies? Coloring books? Model spaceships or whatever? Fireworks?
[Spam]
Which is really how he justifies not talking about the past. They have plenty to talk about. They don't need to talk about ancient history. He doesn't need to mention how much he used to love art, or how his parents patiently sat by and quietly rolled their eyes while he went through one hobby after another. That all died on Picon, anyway.]
I, uh, I guess that's one of the few good things about this place. I mean, I might be stuck working for a frakking Time Lord, but I never could have gotten my hands on a machine like that back... [Home.] ... before.
[Spam]
But with Sam, at least, he'd known what came before the IQ and the biology and science and whatever the hell else; they'd played pretend on jungle gyms and hide and seek in hotel rooms and pinball in diners and bars. He knew that Sam liked spaghetti-os and lucky charms before he acquired his taste for sushi and salads and fruit smoothies or whatever the fuck. Here there's nothing and Felix continues to give him very little and the problem is that Dean has absolutely no point of reference for that: maybe that's just how it is, in Felix's world.
That does bother him, a little, but he's not going to let it in right now. Instead he smirks, and offers back one of the few good things he's found about this place. It's not any machine. Not yet, anyway.]
You know some of the people here - the superheroes, mainly, from what I can tell - were in some kinda book or movie back home? That was... weird, and kinda cool, when I first figured it out. [Then he smirks wider, as something about what Felix said occurs to him:] You should've been more specific about what world you wanted to know about.
[Spam]
He's still got his back to Dean, tucked up against his side, so his reaction goes unseen. He squints quizzically anyway, cocking his head.] What do you mean, in a book or a movie? Like... they were actors? [And there you are, Dean, a rare bit of personal information slips as he snorts:] Frak, I was in a movie, once. Just some stupid propaganda documentary.
[Spam]
Nah, like... they were in the book or movie. You run into comic books yet? [Well, not like it matters, Felix understands books regardless.] Like the main characters. Are here, real, when they were fiction before. I'm friends with freaking Batman, dude.
[And while this is a statement that still puts a mild tone of disbelief in his voice - and he doesn't, actually, mean Bruce Wayne either, which adds a bit more to it maybe - he blinks in surprise at Felix's admission.
A documentary, though. He has to laugh with how typical that is.]
Yeah? That your version of a summer blockbuster or what?
[Spam]
He resettles, folding his arms, and arches a brow.] And I do know what a comic book is. We have those. Uh, had. [He clears his throat, moves on quickly.] They're fictional in your world. I assume they're real in their own.
[Spam]
He still smirks at "unwind," picks the amusement out of the rest of it, and wrinkles his nose, tone absolutely mock-serious.] Did you tell her about temporal particles? Because I hate to break it to you but no one wants to hear about temporal particles.
[As for the rest, well. Dean picks idly at the edge of his boxers with the hand still in his lap.] I'm not saying it doesn't matter, but it doesn't, you know, matter. You don't walk into a room expecting what you've been thinking all your life was a made up person to just be sitting there having coffee, you don't expect to have to work with them during some kinda...thing.
[In turn, a rare introspective moment from Dean. He can't help, somewhat traitorously he realizes, thinking about Buffy and how much she'd hated knowing other people knew things about her life she hadn't told them; how... easy it had felt for Dean to feel like he already knew her in a place otherwise completely unknown and threatening.] It's just... here are these people that you grew up with, that were... friends. And then you get to be friends with 'em.
[Spam]
He'd push it, get a little teasing, maybe even offer a demonstration, but then Dean is getting strangely thoughtful. He settles back down, semi-consciously letting their hands stay loosely connected, leaning his head against the couch as he watches him think.] I just meant that it's not really all that surprising. There are a few multi-world theories that would account for it. [But he tries to take his nerd glasses off and put his... not-boyfriend face on, instead.] You are friend with most of them, anyway, aren't you? You're friends with half the damn ship.
[Spam]
He's loud and extroverted and active, but for now, he smiles at what he knows perfectly well Felix is capable of off work - the one thing, perhaps, he knows about Felix better than anyone else here - and is content to stay where he is even if he does shift some again for a more comfortable position.
The multi-world theory doesn't really bother him. He's sure Felix knows the name and the creator and the minute details or whatever of each of them but even Dean, at least, is aware of their existence. The rest he's accustomed to tuning out. And anyway, Felix says something else that is odder still for the normally vagrant Winchester, and absolutely, he knows, true.]
Well, I dunno how happy some of 'em are about it but yeah, guess I am. [He sounds minorly surprised by this.] I guess it's kinda hard not to be when we're all here, all day every day, right in the same space. This's the longest I've been in one place since I was a kid.
That didn't happen on Galactica?
[Spam]
Not like you, though. [It's a little like this, actually: he knows he's a little bit extreme, and he knows that turns some people away. He cares less now than he did then; here, most of his friends are ones whose extremity matches his own, and he doesn't need to be a social butterfly beyond that.]
[Spam]
And as soon as he'd asked it he could envision it clearly; Galactica was this same basic setup only less unlikely, less time to sit around doing nothing, ironically. Why would Felix have made friends any more easily then?]
Do you want to make more friends? [It's an abrupt question, occurring to him for the first time; he's been shoving people at Felix and vice because it seems like the only natural thing to do to him, and he's always been the one who knows people. He never thought for a moment it might be legitimately unwanted.]
[Spam]
I've got you, he wants to say and absolutely doesn't. What would be the point? he doesn't say, either, because he knows that would only be upsetting. Both are true, which is a conflict he has yet to resolve.
He plays it off into teasing, instead.]
I promise, when I'm not here I'm not sitting by myself in the dark, okay?
[Spam]
And here...]
Uh huh. Only because you need light to read with. [It's a tease back, but he doesn't pause.] Well, in any case, Doyle's been inviting more people to poker night. Ned and his inmate, I guess. See if they actually show.
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Spam]