milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Urquhart is on a sofa by the fireplace, feeling really sick.

The last few days are a haze of fever, punctuated by strange dreams of Vikings. He had come from a hall -- Heorot? -- and had been some kind of hero -- Buliwyf?

He had really not known Moist, and Moist had not known him right back, and had blamed Holmes. Holmes is that weedy geek kid, right? Why on earth should he...?

Ow.

Urquhart's head is hurting, his sinuses are clogged, and he feels very hot. He's taken some of the medicine Guppy left lying about in the infirmary, the same he brought for Sunshine, which only deepens the haze,

Ow!

How sick he feels may be evident from the fact that he's drinking herbal tea with honey from a large mug, and his hair is braided and out of the way.-

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Moist has been sleeping and has grown to hate the sight of his bed and comes downstairs in a cozy sweater when he spots Urquhart.

He walks over and collapses in a nearby chair, "I hate being sick."

Moist, apparently, is Moist again.

"Me too," Urquhart groans. "Hey, you!"

'Hello Alfred' would just be wrong, and 'Hello Moist' would make the poor man flinch, so 'Hey you' it is.

He keeps having odd thoughts from Watson, but they're not taking over,

"Hello. When will this end? I don't remember the last time I was this sick."

"Can be more than a week," Urquhart says. "I looked after Sunshine while she had it. Shall I order more tea from the waitrat?"

He can't really be bothered to move himself. He feels as if his bones were made of lead, and his muscles of stale milk-soaked bread.

"Yes, please and soup, the kind with dumplings in it,"

His grandmother always made that for him when he was sick,

"Gods, I think I asked Lady Margolotta who I was."

"Oh damn, yes, I remember talking to Gene Hunt and claiming I was some sort of Viking, I think," Urquhart groans. "And did we really both wake up sick and not knowing each other? That's kind of hilarious, and I'd laugh if my head wouldn't explode from it."

He orders tea, and soup with dumplings for Moist, and soup with strips of pancake in for himself. Soup is an excellent idea.

"The thing with Lady Margolotta sounds fraught. Not to say boding. What did she tell you? And, by the way, why Holmes?"

"It was strange, the man I thought I was is very honest and associated with Holmes. I also almost had a run in with Security. I need to avoid any new soldiers,"

He shifts just enough to rest his head on Urquhart's arm.

Urquhart turns his head to look him in the eyes.

"Soldiers?" he says. "Why? Soldiers can be fun. But Holmes is that geek kid that's sometimes here. Young man, mid-twenties at the most."

Moist frowns,

"No, he's not, he's older than that. When he was another gender we had a rather nice time. Apparently I look like, oh gods, I look like Watson."

Urquhart laughs despite his flu.

"Ow!" he says. "Then that Watson is who you thought you were? The one that Holmes is after, but only when he's female. Or another gender altogether?"

He gives up trying to understand.

"Fucking Milliways."

"Yes, so much Fucking Milliways. The soldier doubted that I was a soldier when Watson was one. Now the god in charge of Security knows what I look like."

"Belar?" Urquhart asks. "Oh damn, that is really bad news."

Moist gets a kiss, because he deserves one as solace for all this.

Margolotta and Belar are definitely worse than Gene Hunt.

Moist lengthens the kiss as long as he can before he needs to sneeze and the food arrives,

"At least I thought I was a doctor, so that could be useful. And I now have a nice conservative tweed suit and a cane."

"Food!" Urquhart says. "That soup smells very good. Excellent idea of you. I thought I was some kind of war leader."

He eagerly reaches for the soup and starts eating, its the kind of soup that sticks on your bones,

"Mm."

Urquhart sits up, and reaches for his bowl.

There are pieces of vegetables in it, too. His first spoon comes up with one of those little green mini-cabbages you eat whole, as well as a few strips of pancake, and a tiny shred of chicken.

Nothing ever tasted this heartening and life-affirming.

"Almost as good as my grandmother used to make,"

Uberwald is always good at food to keep you warm.

"It brings you back alive," Urquhart agrees.

He pours tea for them both.

"That's what its meant to do."

"You have such good ideas," Urquhart says, with a little smile.

Those, at least, don't hurt.

"I try to. How's Franz taking all of this change?"

"He stuck to me all the time," Urquhart says, "like a good faithful dog. He wanted to go outside when we came down."

"Good, I wouldn't want him to be too worried by Milliways."

"He's much more sensible and unworried than either of us," Urquhart chuckles.

He leans over to kiss Moist again. He still feels too iffy for anything more than kissing, but kissing feels as nice as always.

It does, Moist enjoys his kisses,

"Mm, want to feel like myself."

"I feel like myself," Urquhart says. "Just with added headache."

"And a fuzzy head, maybe a long bath would help."

"We should have a hot bath with herbs in," Urquhart muses.

"Yes, those tend to help and lots of tea and soup."

"We're well on our way to feeling better," Urquhart says, pouring more tea for both of them.

"Yes, but its still odd having someone else's thoughts in my head. That Watson is so earnest and law abiding."

"He was quite upset at waking up beside a naked man," Urquhart grins.

"Which was his loss."

"Well, Buliwyf wasn't thrilled, either," Urquhart says. "So we're all good. No harm done."

"None at all, but it will be nice to be able to do everything again,"

He leans over to kiss Urquhart again.

"Like this, for example," Urquhart agrees, and kisses him back, deeply.

Ahh, Moist! What could the two of them -- or the three of them, including Saffron -- have achieved if he'd met them while he was still alive!

Including a modicum of genuine happiness.

Well, they do have that now.

Moist laughs into the kiss and relaxes, soon he'll be healthy again.

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