relax (take it easy)
by angela
my so-called gate
august 2008
If Will thought hard enough, it almost made sense that Cox had brought porn with him aboard the Destiny. It made less sense, however, that he'd stashed it in between specs of the Asgard core and a field manual on the punishment of war crimes, and it made pretty much no sense at all that he was watching it on the viewscreen on the ship's bridge at four a.m.
"I do not even—" spluttered Will, waving his arms in what he hoped conveyed frustration and not sheer and utter panic. "You are just—what are you think—"
To his credit, Cox looked slightly guilty. (Miraculously, he did still have his pants on, for which Will was infinitely grateful.) "We've been lost for ages, okay! I get bored easily!" He toyed with the headrest on the captain's chair. "Come on, Patterson, it's not like you don't look at any of that stuff! And you're not even supposed to be awake!"
Will tried to school his features into something resembling 'calm', and settled for 'not completely freaking out'. "I was awake, Lieutenant, because I was trying to fix the hyperdrive panel that you broke—and contrary to what you might think, I don't look at any of that 'stuff'. I have more important things to do." He turned swiftly on his heel and stumped off towards his quarters, ignoring Cox's shouts of protest.
It was only an hour later that Will realized there hadn't been a single girl on the screen.
"Patterson," said a voice. "Patterson. Patt—hey!"
A sharp fingernail poked him in the cheek and Will snapped out of his funk. A glance at his hand revealed he was holding a can of Spaghetti-Os. He hated this stuff, but it was better than the Big Macs that Cox had insisted on replicating.
"Patterson," the voice said again. Candy's yellow eyes (that would never stop being creepy) focused on him with mild exasperation. "What's wrong with you? You're starting to weird me out."
Then it's mutual, thought Will darkly. Instead he sighed and pulled open the flip-top of the can. "I'm fine. I'm just—"
For being a shape-shifting cellulose-based alien, Candy was surprisingly good at picking up on human nonverbal cues. "Just what?"
"We've been looking for three months," said Will, sighing again. "We've used all the instruments to try and find a 'Gate, a habitable planet, anything, even if the natives try to kill us or eat us or marry us or whatever. But there's nothing out here but rocks and empty space."
"Hm." Candy rested her head on her palm, and for a second she reminded Will of Jennifer. Technically she'd only been his lab partner, but the way she'd poured titrations, the way her hair fell over her goggles—
Will slapped himself on the forehead. No use thinking about it. He said, "I'm going nuts."
"I don't believe there are any nuts in our inventory," said Candy.
Well and truly frustrated now, Will threw the can of Spaghetti-Os at the far wall. The sauce made a kind of graceful arc before splattering all over the floor. The mess was going to take hours to clean, but if he was lucky, Cox would make his way here and eat it off of the floor.
He stood up and started walking away. "I'm going to drown myself in the bath," he called back over his shoulder.
Even down the hallway, he could still hear Candy say, "You are such a boob."
After a ridiculously long shower that turned his fingers all pruny and white, Will felt better. A little. Stable enough not to herd the three of them into an airlock and decompress the door.
Although the fact that he was even thinking about the idea was probably a bad sign.
Will bent over to retrieve a datapad from under his mattress. It wasn't like he suspected Cox or Candy of snooping—all the door locks had an extremely complicated security mechanism that tended to lock Cox out of his own room on occasion—but this was just one of these things that had to be kept to himself.
Dear Mom, began the missive; I hope you're doing well. I'm glad to hear you're back at Reed; I'll be sure to sit in on one of your classes when I get back. I remember you told me that having fun was the top priority in your life—you told me that a million times while I was growing up, and now it's my turn to tell you to enjoy yourself.
I really wish I could tell you where I am, Mom. Even though you'd probably accuse me of helping The Man stick it to all the little people, or that I'm involved in some sort of secret government cover up—well, you'd probably be right. That's all I can tell you right now.
I also wish I could tell you I was off on some grand adventure, saving the world, that sort of thing, but in reality, sometimes it's hard just to keep going. I'm not cut out for this job, Mom. I don't know how to set bones or hack into mainframes or fire a gun. So in a way, I guess you were right about Berkeley being a waste. No one here even knows what a carbon dioxide scrubber is, and if they found one they would probably try to eat it.
Will switched off the datapad and shoved it back under his mattress. There really wasn't anything worth writing home about, and wasn't like he could get a letter to Earth, anyway.
Two weeks later they located an inhabited planet, and four days after that, Candy dragged an semi-conscious Cox into the lab.
"He's been shot," she said, somewhat hysterically. "They shot him, I don't know where, he's all wet and sticky—"
Will wheeled his chair away from his console. "He got shot? What the hell was he doing? You guys were just supposed to ask for directions!"
Candy looked up at him, fear visible in her eyes. "Geez, Patterson! It just happened, okay? Now can you fix him or not?"
"Hey," mumbled Cox drowsily. "Will you two keep it down? I'm getting a headache."
"You got yourself shot, moron," Will said, helping Cox onto one of the lab tables. "Candy, could you please get me some bandages from the infirmary?" She nodded and took off. The wound didn't look all that serious—the bullet or arrow or whatever had just clipped Cox's shoulder, and the wound was starting to clot—and Will set about to cleaning it.
Cox didn't seem like he was in that much pain, either. "Hey, Wilbur," he said, "aren't you supposed to put hydrogen peroxide on that or something? Are you sure you're really a doctor?"
"Of environmental engineering, yes," replied Will. "And since I know where the morphine is, it would probably be a bad idea to keep calling me that."
"Fine, you win," said Cox, grinning up at Will. He was silent for a minute or two after Candy came back with the bandages. Then, "Hey, are you still mad at me?"
"Am I still—" Will rolled his eyes and sighed at the same time. "For trashing my science fair project in seventh grade? For pantsing me at senior prom? For telling General Carter I had the hots for her husband—which, by the way, I most certainly don't?"
Cox laughed. "Man, the look on her face—" Will just kept glaring, and Cox quickly shut up. "No, but really, are you still mad at me? About the—" he whispered—"porn thing?"
Will applied a clean bandage to Cox's shoulder. "It's none of my business, Lieutenant. What you choose to do in your free time is up to you. If you'd rather watch two guys getting it on than try to help me figure out how this goddamn ship works, I won't stop you."
"Well," Cox said, sitting up, "if you would just sleep with me, I wouldn't have to watch porn."
Will froze. "What," he said.
Cox grinned at him again, showing all his straight, white teeth. "I told you, I get bored easily. Don't you ever get bored, Dr. Patterson?"
"I hate you," was all Will could think of to say.
Things are getting better here, Mom. I think I'm starting to make friends, which sounds silly coming from a twenty-four year old man, but it's true. Being stuck together in a tough situation makes people grow closer, I suppose.
There's a girl here named Candy—well, that's just her nickname, but no one can really pronounce her real name—who's pretty nice to me. She's not from around here, and she hasn't got lots of friends, either, so we work together a lot.
And do you remember that guy who used to pick on me all the time at school? Well, he's here, too, and despite everything, we're starting to become friends. It doesn't really make up for all the pranks and the misery and making high school a living hell for me, but it's a start.
You shouldn't worry about me. I'm getting along fine. Could be better, but I'm doing all right. It's always about looking forward, right? Give my love to Suzuki, and don't forget to give her her calcium supplements. Oh, and don't give her cheese like you did last time. Turtles can't digest dairy.
Please keep seeing Dr. Yang. I know you don't trust doctors, but I lived with him at MIT and I know he knows what he's doing. He could buy you a couple more years—think of everything you could do with that time. You might even be able to finish that book you started. I'd really like to read it someday.
Take care of yourself, Mom. I love you. I'll be home soon.
"Okay, seriously," said Cox, face twisted in dismay, "that is really disgusting."
Candy looked up innocently. "What is?"
"That." Cox pointed at her plate. "It—it's moving."
"Well, duh," replied Candy. She neatly skewered the moving thing on a fork and brought it to her mouth, watching as Cox's face grew pale, and popped it in. "I'm not human, remember?"
Cox swallowed. The color had completely drained from his face. "Yeah. Um. I kind of forgot."
Ignoring Cox, Candy leaned over to Will and nudged him in the shoulder. "Hey, Patterson. You're doing that drifty thing again."
"Huh?" Will blinked. His chin slipped off his palm and he flailed for a moment trying to right himself. "What?"
"That thing," Candy said, giving the word three syllables. She rolled her eyes in a perfect imitation of a teenage girl. "You're totally freaking me out and if you don't stop doing it I'm going to throw you out the airlock."
"Ladies first," muttered Will. Cox kicked him under the table. Will kicked him back. Candy kicked them both with her steel-toed boots, and they were limping for the next three days.
(Cox brought him Easy Mac later to apologize, though, so in the end it turned out kind of all right.)