milliways_bar | (no subject)

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In a magical Millitime wherein Crowley is not upstairs in Lilly and Mel's hot tub (hur hur hur), he's in the bar. Likely with tea - or maybe coffee - and probably still going over those Academy plans.

He's probably distractable, though.

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"Uhmm. I don't... My head..."

Janine, is there a subtle way you could remind my four o'clock that they need to bring their portfolio with them this time? Because last time, it was just... it was...

He shakes his head, trying to find the words that can convey that the world - and his mind - suddenly seems to be splitting in two.

...Sir? Are you alright, sir?

Uhmm. I don't... My head...

"I think I'm going to be sick."

I think I'm going to be sick.

Oh, hell.

Crowley's definitely going the peculiar shade of pale that people sometimes get when they're off-world for the first time. But it shouldn't be happening now, not when they're already out in the black with nobody's grav pulling at them but their own; and it's not like Faith or Lilly or Susan had a problem with it while they were aboard....

"Zāogāo. Okay, um, don't -- maybe you should sit down, I'll get something, be back in a -- "

Wash turns and sprints for the kitchen.

Rutting space sickness.

His balance is definitely off, and he's leaning against the wall for support, head down, dark tiles

thick red carpet under his feet and Janine has her hand on his arm, she looks worried, and the sound of the waves

the engine that he can hear seems terribly, terribly loud and he rests his

the scar on his

cheek against the cool

glass

metal wall and closes his eyes.

Next moment, Wash is back with an empty bowl and a wet dishcloth.

A stifled wince: the demon's looking even worse. Swiftly, he decides that he's giving this one shot or thirty seconds, whichever last less, before he postpones the tour and sends him back to Milliways.

"Here -- Crowley, come on, sit, put your head down -- " He takes him by the arm and tries to guide him to the stairs.

What does he mean stairs? That's the seat behind his desk and he lowers himself into it looking down trying to focus focus on a letter-head of little gold wings and

"Wash, I think I should go back."

"Ain't gonna argue with that." He glances up at the bridge door. It's still open, leading into Milliways.

....Screw it. It's been close enough to thirty seconds.

"Right." A breath. "Okay. Later with the sitting."

Wash drops the cloth into the bowl, helps Crowley back to his feet, and guides him through the door.

And

- click -

it's gone.

Just... gone.

Tentatively, Crowley straightens up, gingerly turning his head from side to side, testing his balance.

"Well. That was... the weirdest thing ever."

Wash slides the door shut with a firm click and gives Crowley a look of bewildered incomprehension. "Gone already?"

A beat. He shakes his head.

"You are either the most spacesick-prone person I've met in my life or...is this a demon thing? With the not liking space?"

"I can't... imagine how it could be..."

He runs a hand through his hair, talking half to himself.

"Felt familiar, though. The feeling. I just... can't remember where I - unless. Maybe? Hmm."

The look shifts to something more expectant, if just as confused.

"Maybe...?" he prompts.

"Well, um. The closest thing was the time - from here as well - I went back to get 'Skandra's horse. Boukephalos, you know? Back in time. Messed me up something royal."

His eyes flicker involuntarily towards the door, as he continues.

"If... say if your universe is actually my universe too, just further along the timeline, then... maybe it's a temporal thing."

Cue the eyebrows.

Wash looks over his shoulder at the door, too, as if it'll offer some kind of eloquent confirmation.

"So now I'm starting to lean toward agreeing with the 'weirdest thing ever,'" he says at last.

"You're telling me," he says with a snort, and a shake of the head. "Felt like my mind was cracking in two. And I think I can now say that brains really, really aren't meant to do the amoeba thing."

"Yeah, that -- "

And Wash stops. The ramifications of the past five minutes, which have been nudging at the back of his brain, are finally settling into place.

If Crowley can't come onboard Serenity, whether because of temporal craziness or a much simpler explanation...with three days to go, they're suddenly down one very, very powerful ally.

Wash suddenly feels as if he's going to be a little sick himself.

"...that sounds disgustingly painful," he finishes, voice considerably weaker. "Look, I should probably head back, I think, put these away," he makes a vague movement with the bowl, "make sure we don't crash into anything before we reach the Academy. I'll, uh. See you later."

Make that two powerful allies - the realisation is beginning to trickle into Crowley's head as well, and he's willing to bet that what goes for him goes for Aziraphael as well.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He drops into his seat.

"Yeah. See you later."

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