lucetilogs | i'm half-awake in paisley print -- i can see the world clearly but i have to squint

i'm half-awake in paisley print -- i can see the world clearly but i have to squint

Who: [Bad username or site: slaying title= @ livejournal.com], [Bad username or site: hippocraticly title= @ livejournal.com] & [Bad username or site: lists_to_port title= @ livejournal.com]
What: Somehow, Jack has talked his way into helping look after the under-the-weather Doctor McCoy
When: Backdated to Wednesday morning
Where: House Seven
Summary: A lot of awkward silences are predicted.
Rating: PG13? Perhaps higher for implications or language. We'll see.

It was mid-morning on a Wednesday and Buffy was still in her pajamas. After her post-waking-up shower, she decided to slip right back into something comfy and casual. It made the day seem that much more inviting. And her evening had gone latter than expected, tending to the delirium-tinged sickness of Doctor McCoy. She probably doesn't even remember inviting Jack Sparrow over to "help" -- which is all well and good, because if she remembered she would probably rescind the invitation.

She began her day in the kitchen. Coffee had to be made -- for her. Bones was getting lemon in hot water or maybe some NeoCitran knock-off. Plus orange slices, because she has made it her own personal mission to get as much vitamin C into the doctor as she can manage. She took great satisfaction in crisply slicing the fruit, releasing deliciously orangeish smells into the air.

Once the coffee was successfully brewed, Buffy took a tray of everything into the lounge. She gently attempted to rouse Bones from his stupor on the couch.

(ooc; posting order -- bones, jack, buffy? sound good?)

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"Oh? Weren't pirates, were they?"

Jack's tone was distracted; he was too hung up on the thing about the frogs.

"Wenches---they liked that sort of thing?"

"I'm from the future, remember?" He reminded the pirate sourly and puffed in frustration, although it wasn't clear what. It was easy for him to raise his hand and bonk Jack on the head due to his position on the floor next to that dried out lizard. "They played by the river and ganged together to make a raft."

Sparrow absentmindedly picked up the salamander and twirled it between his fingers before giving in and sticking the thing in his mouth like a lollipop.

"Aye---sounds like something I'd have done. Did they have any luck with her?"

He tried to ignore the rising nausea; whether it was due to the pirate sticking the shriveled reptile into his mouth or the subject matter? It was difficult to say.

"No."

Amphibian, Bones: survives on land and water, much like the pirate himself, who has no taste for reptiles, because they remind him of Beckett. The salamander actually had a rather unsuspected nice flavor---the way you savor something ugly like a truffle, or a Portobello mushroom, or a lobster tail.

"The raft, she weren't well-constructed?"

McCoy is a doctor, and not a studier of amphibians or reptiles or any kind of pets, really. In fact, he was unaware of a small mass of orange fur that had entered the room much like Sparrow had earlier, a creature which had snaked itself around the couch sneakily before pouncing up during this conversation and meowing at him softly, pawing at the blanket with its claws.

It amused the doctor. If this animal was capable of speech, it was doing a spectacular job of subjecting him to the silent treatment despite the affection it obviously had. McCoy put his energy into patting at it; better than watching Jack Sparrow suck on a something which had been dead for a very long time.

"No. They were just kids, after all and it.. broke apart in the middle of the river."

"Bad luck, that." Suddenly something dawned on Sparrow. "No one got hurt, I trust."

He absently observed the doctor coddling the small furry animal; an unexpected side of Bones, certainly.

Edited 2010-11-20 03:15 (UTC)

"My lungs had filled with water and I was walloped pretty hard on the chest when they dragged me out. Hell of a wakening and the only thing I can remember, really..." It was a sensation that he did not want to feel again. "... David wasn't as lucky as me. It took them until evening to find him."

"Oh.

.........Sorry, McCoy."

So that was it, then: a bad experience on the water as a child. Still, that made no sense...Jack had had plenty of those for himself. He'd seen his first drowned man at age four. Well, the first he could remember. He could still recall the image of the bloated, pale figure as though it had just happened, though it didn't hold as much horror for him anymore. Not with what he knew.

Then the pirate ventured a consolation.

"David were taken by the river? There's no need to worry for him, mate--I know personally the man what aids those souls and brings them to rest. Annoying chap, but a stickler when it comes to doing his job."

Of course, there was a difference between a soul lost at sea and a soul lost at river, but Jack wasn't about to quibble when it came to souls. A drowned boy of course would be taken well in hand by William Turner, who was barely out of boyhood himself. It made sense.

McCoy did not answer him or make any sort of verbal confirmation that he had even heard what he said. There was someone out there aiding souls that died in the water and brought them to their rest? And Jack personally knew the man responsible?

He snorted at the mere suggestion, "When I said I didn't like water, I meant it. I only like the stuff when it's surrounded by a glass and mixed with Kentucky bourbon and a few ice cubes." David had weighed heavily on his mind as the cold and wet chilled him to his bones after falling in the lake and in the following days.

"... But thanks."

Buffy chose this moment to step back into the room. It seems she may have taken a detour via her room because she was no longer wearing pajamas and now reclaimed her seat in a chill jeans and sweater outfit. She did not know what had transpired while she was gone, but she wasn't sure she liked the look on Bones' face.

The "thanks" rolled off Jack like a hat off a dead duck. He glanced up at Buffy and grinned his most winning, vexing grin.

"Aye, that's the spirit, Leonard! Been a while since we last went out for a round, eh?"

Truthfully, Jack was glad that his best mate seemed to be rallying a bit. It was unexpected and rather useful to glean some insight into Bones's past like this. And a man never knew when that flavor of information would come in handy.

Edited 2010-11-20 03:50 (UTC)

It didn't seem like he was rallying that much at the moment, absent-mindedly patting Cupcake who was curled up and purring contently during the whole thing.

Buffy looked from Bones to Jack and back again. "Gee, guys. I hope you didn't roll out the kitschy phrases and awkward silences just for me?"

A long, outward sigh. The Slayer seemed to be at a loss for what to do with herself. So she flicked easily over to concern mode. "How are you feeling, Bones?"

Jack wisely kept quiet, darting quick looks at Buffy when he thought she didn't notice and pretending to be engrossed in the "How are you feeling, Bones?" when he knew very well the doctor was in a sorry state indeed.

"Good," He croaked, despite the shambolic state of his voice proving otherwise and he craned his stiff neck to look at the Slayer in her seat, "Thanks for the lemon water. I'm starting to feel better already."

Buffy could figure that the good was a lie. But part of what Buffy and Bones had was them lying to each other. It made is easier in such a damn complicated way. "You can't fault Joyce Summers' home remedies. They always, always do the trick."

She slid an uneasy look at Jack when she spoke her mother's name. It was still a sensitive subject to bring up in front of him.

Their eyes met and Jack immediately shuffled through the following expressions: surprise/dismay, innocence, questioning, and back to concern. Concern would be his safe port in a storm in this strange encounter with the odd couple at home.

Joyce Summers? A mother, or sister perhaps. Jack had no idea.

"Your Joyce has remedies?" He pulled the salamander out of his mouth and let its strange, spicy flavor settle on his tongue. How the Pelegosto discovered the properties of the creature wasn't something he wanted to think about, but he wasn't above enjoying one himself.

The doctor was oblivious to the looks that were being shared between blonde and salamander-sucking pirate and agreed with Buffy: "You can't knock a mother's remedy."

And the penny finally dropped for Buffy that Jack had had a salamander in her mouth. She convulsed in a shudder of disgust.

"Which is why you shouldn't turn away the sandwiches when I bring them. Mom's specialty."

"Oh, Joyce is your mum, eh? Bet she's a marvelous woman." The salamander was quickly popped back in, and then there was a crunch. Yes, he bit off a leg.

"When has anyone ever turned away your sandwiches?" the pirate asked, trying to remember if he'd ever done so.

"I'm eating them, aren't I?" McCoy grumbled, even if his appetite had been sabotaged by watching how Jack had sucked on the salamander for a good few minutes while she was out of the room. His chest spasmed and he coughed loudly as he heard the crunch, covering his mouth with one hand as he spluttered behind his fingers.

"She was. And she might not have been a doctor, but she it seemed like she could cure anything." Buffy smiled -- it has been a few years and the past tense wasn't so horrible. Better to dwell in the good thoughts and the hand-me-down wisdom. Like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with the crusts cut off. "Maybe you should be eating more of them, Bones. I could make some and then maybe we wouldn't have to sit and watch Jack eat a lizard, either."

"Oi! I offered to share, you know."

But then he thought about the offer she'd made the doctor. Peanut butter and jelly. One of his favorites. He tried not to look too interested.

McCoy waved them both away with his free hand as he continued to cough before he evened the pirate with a watery glare. Maybe he should just knock the damn thing out his hand, that way he would not have to put up with the sound of crunching.

"Or you could kick him out. Just an idea, you know."

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