(no subject)

[flybywash]

Iiiiiit's inventory time!

If only that were half as exciting as the narration implies.

Datapad in hand and stylus behind his ear, Wash sticks his head into the infirmary and asks, "Simon, you got your check sheet done yet?"

Comments

[simon_doctor]

"Just about," says Simon from behind the cabinet door, around the pen in his teeth.

He sets down the last three canisters of foam bandage, takes the pen out of his mouth, notes down the final figure, and closes the cabinet. "One more drawer to tally and I'm through."

[flybywash]

"Did you include one stuffed rabbit with a shiny little embroidered heart?"

He eases further in and leans against the doorframe, folding his arms.

And not at all smirking. Not in the least.

[simon_doctor]

"No, actually," says Simon mildly. "I was going to ask you if you thought Naomi might like it, after I've detached the heart."

[flybywash]

"She'd love it."

Beat.

"You sure you wanna part with such a heartfelt and precious token of admiration, though? 'Cause I know if it was me I'd -- "

[simon_doctor]

"Don't be silly." It's perfectly deadpan, said sideways as he bends to open the last drawer for inventory. "Zoe would never stand for it."

[flybywash]

"Hey, Zoe wouldn't have to know."

(Pfft. She'd know within three and a half seconds, and everybody on this boat knows it.)

Pushing himself away from the doorframe, "Need any help with the last drawer?"

[simon_doctor]

"If you wouldn't mind?" He hands Wash the check sheet and the pen, and starts at the back of the drawer. "Surgical tape, three complete rolls, one partially used roll."

[flybywash]

Wash, with some effort, hops up to sit on the counter and drops his datapad and cane next to him. He scribbles down the results on the check sheet and gives the rest of it a quick once-over.

"Hell of a stock-up the next time we're in port," he mumbles to himself.

[simon_doctor]

"On the plus side, it doesn't look like we need anything we can't afford. Ah, disposable syringes, two."

[flybywash]

"Being rich is bizarre."

Scribble scribble.

"What do you think, cherries or watermelon if we make a fresh food run?"

[simon_doctor]

"Premeasured doses of adrenaline, five. Cherries keep better."

[flybywash]

"So that leaves the novelty of buying cherries planetside and watermelon when we need it from the bar. I approve."

He scratches the back of his head with the pen, briefly.

[simon_doctor]

A last few items ticked off, and Simon closes the drawer.

"And ... we're good."

[flybywash]

"Shiny."

With a flourish, Wash pulls the stylus from behind his ear and starts shifting the numbers over to his datapad.

Without looking up, "Maybe if we sent some of the cherries back to that secret admirer you'd get a less insulting stuffed animal next time. And for the record and benefit of your ego," solemnly, as he points at Simon with the stylus, "you look fine without airbrushing."

[simon_doctor]

Absolutely toneless: "I'm so happy to hear it."

A pause.

"It's not exactly a secret admirer. I mean. I know who it is."

[flybywash]

That makes Wash look up.

"You do?"

[simon_doctor]

"And I'm not sure admirer is the right word --"

He gives up, with a sigh.

"Back... last month, you remember how Crowley was able to get a message through to us, on the Kelowna?"

[flybywash]

"...Shi a."

Slowly.

[simon_doctor]

"There was this guard. And I wondered how Crowley persuaded him to carry a message -- he could be court-martialed for that. Imprisoned himself. If it came out."

He's shaking his head slowly.

"Apparently there's a family connection. From ... rather a long time back."

[flybywash]

And the eyebrows just keep going higher.

Wash slips the stylus back behind his ear, one corner of his lips twitching.

"Really." Beat. "How far back are we talking about here, fifty years, a hundred...?"

[simon_doctor]

"About five hundred."

A pause.

"Apparently ... I know this is hard to believe, but if Crowley was telling me the truth, then apparently this man's a descendant of Bernard and Tonks."

[flybywash]

"W -- "

Wash stifles a hasty cough.

"Wow," he says, with wide-eyed earnestness. "That is kind of hard to believe. Crowley really told you that?"

[simon_doctor]

Simon nods. "And I can't think he'd have any reason to lie to me about it --"

[flybywash]

"Well besides the 'hi, I'm employed by the devil, ask me how!' part, but -- "

He covers his mouth, as if thinking.

(The way his eyes are crinkling up does an excellent job of giving away the real reason.)

"Yeah, he's probably got a real good sense of who's related to Bernard and Tonks. Bet he keeps whole reams of papers on it. Pictures, family trees..."

[simon_doctor]

Simon starts to answer, and stops.

Because he's suddenly remembering a stay at Crowley's flat on Lavinia. Remembering having to tell Wash that the surgery to fix his leg had encountered complications; remembering Wash avoiding his eyes, compulsively straightening the papers in the box at his bedside --

-- and it's funny, he's never really looked at the set of Wash's eyes before, the laughter-lines around them --

"...jiàn tā de guĭ."

[flybywash]

"...maybe a neat little book tracking every single one of 'em, it's a big 'verse and a lot of time to -- "

Oh, to hell with it. He bursts out laughing.

"If you say one word about family resemblance -- "

[simon_doctor]

"But --"

Simon's staring.

"You --"

Possibly coming as close as he's capable to spluttering.

"How?"

[flybywash]

"You're a married man, you should know how it works!" he says.

Or some vague approximation of that sentence.

It's hard to tell under the helpless cackling.

[simon_doctor]

More staring.

Simon runs a hand over his face.

"You do realize what this means?"

[flybywash]

Wash gets himself under control long enough to rattle off: "That Naomi might be a witch? That I've got two million and eighty relatives all over the 'verse including the jail guard who sent you a fluffy stuffed bunny rabbit? That I've got a demon and an angel for uncles? That I've had my great-uncle times sixteen drool on me? On more than one occasion?"

He grins.

"Something else I'm missing?"

[simon_doctor]

"All of that. Wash, how long have you known all this?"

[flybywash]

"Little over seven months. Found out while we were staying in Southdown after New Year's, same time I found out about my folks still being alive."

He curls both hands around the edge of the counter and swings his legs absently, fighting off another snicker.

"And why my Uncle Andy who always let me swipe those shiny sunglasses of his stopped coming over when I was five or six."

[simon_doctor]

"Uncle Andy."

Simon's shaking his head, and starting to laugh -- helplessly, and almost soundlessly.

"The note from Chao mentioned an Uncle Andy. I knew that had to be Crowley, I just didn't...."

[flybywash]

"We Wrangles do manage to try out the wacky literalism thing every so often." Cheerful.

Even as he stops to take pause of how he phrased that, mildly surprised. He's identified himself before by his ship, his crew, his wife and daughter. He's never bothered to do it with his family line.

(Hell, ridiculously pretentious royalty-type phrases like 'family line' don't even enter into his monthly vocabulary, let alone daily one.)

[simon_doctor]

"Does Bernard know?" Simon asks suddenly.

[flybywash]

Wash nods. "Him and Tonks both," he says. "Not Crowley and Aziraphael, though -- " A hasty elaboration: "By which I mean their Crowley and Aziraphael and not a sudden stealth amnesia attack on ours. And we kinda want to keep it that way. It makes it slightly less with the paradoxing."

[simon_doctor]

Simon pinches the bridge of his nose between two fingers as though to stave off an incipient headache.

"Our lives are so very strange," he says fervently.

[flybywash]

"But never boring," Wash points out as he gives Simon a sympathetic clap on the shoulder.

(While struggling to hold back another laugh.)