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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]
Didn't really know you two were friends. You sure she'd enjoy that? Or I could just skip out, I guess. [The second offer is reluctant but sincere; he doesn't trust her, not by a long shot, but he does remember their last conversation.] If you want to invite her. Just...
[Be careful, he wants to say, but it doesn't quite make it out into the air and Dean tilts his head back to look at the ceiling.]
[Spam]
No -- I'm not, not really, but I've been telling her she could stand to branch out a little more. Besides, it would be funny. [She's actually just about his best friend here, after Dean, but that doesn't mean he can't tease her. That's open season, actually, as far as he's concerned.]
Look-- she told me what happened, but whatever you think about her, she's not the same as she used to be. And she doesn't have a problem with you, that whole, uh... standing guard... situation aside. [But he warms a little at that, despite himself, because that had been very... sweet, really.]
[Spam]
As is that little add on, Dean's voice going uncharacteristically dry.] Did she, now. [He wouldn't even need to dislike her to find it extremely unlikely she gave him the whole story or the truth. Dean honestly can't say either way whether she's changed or not - he registered that she'd disappeared and returned anyway, but he has no reason to try to talk to her on the whole - but he does know that he's still annoyed by what happened.
What happened that no one left knows about for sure. He'll only draw attention to it by making a big deal, and surely, Felix is the more paranoid between them. He won't trust easily enough to be fooled, right?
The annoyance is still there, though, when he tries again. She doesn't have a problem with him. Well, how generous of her.] Doyle will get along with almost anyone. Dunno about Ned and company. May as well give it a whirl.
[Spam]
Which is why he can't help but feel defensive on her behalf now. He straightens up a little, shoulders squaring, letting his tenuous grip on Dean's hand drop. There's technically nothing in what Dean said to argue with, but he looks openly annoyed all the same.] I'm sure if it's a problem, we can find something else to do. I wouldn't want to clutter up your poker game.
I take it Gaheris still merits an invitation, though?
[Spam]
[Dean not only lets him, but he's uncomfortable enough now that he draws away some himself, folding his arms loosely over his torso after levering himself somewhat more upright. Oh, he can see the annoyance alright and he thinks he knows what it is, even though he'd offered to be somewhere else, even though...
Wait, what?] I didn't say that, it's... wait, what? What's Rhade got to do with anything?
[Spam]
He sighs and shakes his head, holding up his hands before getting to his feet.] Forget it. [It's not important. He's not going to let it be. Morgana is his friend and Dean is his friend and those can be separate things.] Can I use your shower?
[Spam]
I'm not just being a random asshole, here, Felix. Did s- [Dean doesn't know what all went on there, but he knows it was no accident, and he knows what the most likely explanation is. Whoever the target was - specific passengers, wardens, anyone on the Barge at all - it was an attack, not a mistake.
And any other day he wouldn't even hesitate; but this isn't any other day. Felix stands up, he's standing up without trouble or pain or the quick, furtive glance he probably thought Dean didn't notice. He came here with awesome news, unbelievably good news, and he offered to spend some time off with Dean on top of that, and this isn't a fight they need right now. Right now it doesn't even matter.
Felix says she's changed; Dean doesn't really believe that but it's not likely to matter in the next 48 hours, or before Dean can find out for himself. So Felix stands and asks about the shower, and Dean forces himself to let it go.
He waves vaguely towards the bathroom, then sits forward without getting up himself, raking both hands through his hair and down his face to try to clear it.]
Yeah. Of course. Yeah. [Maybe it's too late. Maybe he's already ruined the mood, but maybe not. Either way the best he can probably do right now is shut up, so he does.]
[Spam]
And if part of the reason he tells himself he doesn't have to care what Dean thinks of Morgana is that it means he has to care less what Dean would think of him if he knew more... Then fine. So be it. That's how it should be.
His good mood is definitely badly soured when he stalks into the bathroom, but he recovers under the spray of the shower. He's never made an issue of it openly, but this has been one of his greatest areas of frustration and embarrassment. However else he's feeling, something that's been tight inside him for a long time greatly loosens with the realization that he can do basic frakking things again like climb into a tub and stand there without help. No crutches, no need to sit. Using Dean's shower already eliminated the need to deal with the public inmate ones, but still, he remembers the tension there, the worry that someone would do something while he was so helpless, and -- sorry, Dean, but it is Morgana's words he remembers: he doesn't have to be afraid anymore.
He stays much longer than he needs to, as before just because he can, but he's much more cheerful when he comes out again, towel wrapped around his hips, curls still sticking wetly to his forehead.] Frak, that's the first time I've gotten a look at myself in the mirror, too. [He rubs his shoulder, over the absent tattoo, nose wrinkling.] I don't know how I feel about it. I look sort of... naked.
[Spam]
It is, for once, his own voice he hears in his head telling him what to do; this one is his tactic, one he taught himself to avoid fights, contrary to popular belief. Head down, mouth shut, even if he's still a bit hot under the collar as Felix disappears into the bathroom. He doesn't want to argue, either.
Dean has moved by the time Felix comes out, pulled jeans on anyway and set his Bob Seger record playing low; he's calmer, too, shoving Morgana and mistakes and all the crap he possibly can off to one side while he busies himself doing things like replacing the salt line, taking more ibuprofen, folding Felix's clothes, and throwing his own into the ever fluctuating dirty pile. He's sitting at his desk, mainly toying with the tiny robot horse there rather than doing anything when Felix emerges.
It's easy to smirk at him. What came before isn't gone, but he's skilled at ignoring what he doesn't like and reaching instead for a better mood. He still sounds and looks a little tired, for him, but not anywhere near even just half an hour ago, and with quickly vanishing traces if any at all of his previous annoyance.]
Well, you do realize it's because you are naked, right? [Then, smiling more broadly as he straightens up in the chair, gives Felix all of his attention:] I can lay hands on a Sharpie or somethin' if it'd make you feel better, Emperor.
[Spam]
So what would you give me if you could, then?
[Spam]
[And Dean is so used to it, too, that he thinks nothing of just filling in the gaps. But not right now. Now, Felix is coming over into his space again and it's so much easier to relax like this; he moves the chair back obligingly, not looking away, and that's easy too. He would have never, on his own, thought to look at Felix as something, as someone he could want in his bed, but now that it's happened - now that he wants it to continue happening - his eyes trace the expanses of newly remade, damp skin exposed to him, and one hand comes up to tease at the other man's wet black hair for the brief moment that he's kissing back.
He knows instantly what tattoo he'd give Felix if it were up to him, and his hand coming down from his hair stops with his palm laid over his left collarbone, just where Dean's own tattoo is. It's not even a romantic, matching tattoos thing - it's about protection, practicality. But that's not the point of this question and he doesn't care to field any kind of disbelief about demons and their ability to possess people just now, so even though he honestly can't think of anything else, he doesn't say that.
Instead, he grins.] We could get you a trampstamp. Those are always nice to aim for. [He's teasing, though, leaning back in the chair slightly to consider.] I dunno. I'm not good at this. You like fish or something, right? Get a shark.
[Spam]
It doesn't help Dean's case here that the last people Felix knew to get something like that done were married, even if it was Kara and Sam Anders and everyone knew she was rampantly cheating on him.]
Um... [It's got him distracted enough that he misses the trampstamp joke for a second; it hits his brain only belatedly and he quickly affects a look of amused disgust.] Ugh. [Okay, he must have a crossed wire there, somewhere, he's willing to believe he misread something, because that was all just too weird and confusing, otherwise. He catches Dean's wrist and pushes his arm away, making it part of the banter.] I never said I like fish. I said I grew up on a fishing planet. And I like sushi.
[Spam]
He laughs, because that's the only way to avoid the kind of awkward that might sink them otherwise; he grins instead, because the fact of the matter is he doesn't have a serious answer if it's not the protection sigil. He raises his hands instead to settle one each on Felix's sides.] Oh come on, that's basically the same thing.
[And to prove his point - which point, really, is up for debate but a point nonetheless - he leans forward just enough to plant a kiss right in the center of Felix's stomach.] I guess I got used to the tiger. [And another, slightly lower.]