Chapter Text
Curly sat in the cockpit, his eyes bore into the screens. He wasn’t sure if the burning behind his eyeballs was the result of looking at the never-ending feed of green text for too long or the suppressed tears he didn’t dare to spill when the others were around.
He was alone there, just him, Tulpar’s machinery and the vastness of space ahead.
Maybe it would be best if he let those emotions leak on his face, wipe his cheeks with a sleeve of his uniform, maybe even sob a little. Maybe he should give himself permission to let this grief out. The letter from the company hurt. Being the bringer of bad news and seeing the looks on their faces hurt. Jimmy’s words hurt. His co-pilot and friend twisting his own words, the ones that were meant to stay between them, and making it seem like he wanted any of it to happen hurt even worse.
His stomach churned. Maybe he really should let himself cry for a bit, after all. He couldn’t even remember the last time he allowed himself to do that. He would probably feel better after.
The door behind his seat opened with a loud hiss, followed by the sound of familiar footsteps. He swallowed and coughed to clear his throat in a feeble attempt to regain composure. He rubbed his eyes hoping that the redness would pass as screen light irritation.
“Jimmy” he acknowledged his co-pilot when it was clear the other won’t start the conversation by himself. “Did you need something from the cockpit?”
Curly didn’t look at his face. He couldn’t. He didn’t want to see those eyes now. Not after they were so full of rage and spite not so long ago.
“Hrmmm” was the first word that left Jimmy’s mouth. He was standing awkwardly near Curly’s seat, holding something in one hand. “I… wanted to talk, actually…”
That sparked Curly’s interest. He looked up and scanned the figure currently towering over him. The co-pilot looked nervous, playing mindlessly with a mug in his hand.
“Oh, okay… why don’t you take a seat, then?”
Jim sat down at his usual place and spun around to face the dashboard. So they were both avoiding eye contact today, great start.
The atmosphere was awkward and silence started to feel uncomfortable after a couple of minutes. Normally, Curly didn’t mind sitting with his friend without a word and just existing together in the same room, but after that absolute disaster of a birthday party, he couldn’t find the will to do so.
“Well, what did you want to talk about, Jim-“
“I’m sorry” the words left his mouth so fast Curly wasn’t sure if he caught them right.
“You’re… what?” Jimmy was never the type to apologize. Anytime they had a fight he just let the issue resolve on it’s own, avoiding talking to Curly for hours or even days just to casually start a conversation at some point as if nothing ever happened. He wasn’t even sure Jimmy was capable of saying the word “sorry” in the first place.
“Don’t make me say that again” he growled, his eyes glued to the steaming mug in his hands. “I got you something” he finally met his captain’s face and shoved the cup in his direction. It had a smiling Polle on one side and the Pony Express logo on the other.
Curly took the offering and smelled the steam. His eyes opened a bit wider.
“Where did you get it? We’ve been out of coffee for days!”
“I have a little stash of instant sachets in my room” he pointed at him with a finger. “Don’t tell Swansea. Or anyone, really, or I swear I’ll never apologize to you ever again!”
“Thank you” Curly replied with a weak but honest smile. He took a sip of the hot drink. It tasted horrible really, one of the worst he’s ever had, probably from a sachet stolen at some dingy motel. But it was warm and caffeinated. And above all, it was a peace offering he didn’t dare reject.
The sour and bitter liquid washed the obnoxiously sweet aftertaste of the “cake” from his tongue and teeth and even made his stomach unclench a bit.
“So… how’s the coffee?”
“Terrible”
“Pah” Jimmy huffed in mock annoyance. “How ungrateful! You won’t get any more then. More sachets for me”
“Where did you even get them? I didn’t know making such a bad coffee was legal” Curly smiled into a cup hearing another amused huff from beside.
He relaxed a bit in his seat, tuning out Jim’s story of how he accidentally got into another city because he fell asleep on a bus and missed his stop once and had to spend a night in a run-down motel. Minutes passed and the atmosphere in the cockpit was finally bearable. Sure, he was still a little salty about the whole ordeal but the apology, although unexpected, was a step in the right direction.
Sometime during Jimmy’s monologue, Curly started to feel the slight discomfort in his abdomen return. He tried to push it to the back of his mind and focus on the screens again. He set the empty cup down and put both hands on the pulpit to ground himself. He didn’t really have to do a lot of manual corrections and there seemed to be no danger on their way anytime soon but the familiar feeling under his palms gave him something to distract himself from the growing nausea.
Jimmy’s words were streaming by his ear, a comforting ambience mixed with Tulpar’s buzzing and whirring. And he would have even said it was nice, if he didn’t feel like throwing up.
“Jimmy, could you-” he had to swallow, feeling the buildup of saliva in his mouth. There was this disgustingly sweet aftertaste of artificial cake again, now mixed with the residue of cheap instant coffee. “Could you take over?”
“Sure” Jim looked at him quizzically. “You good, Blondie?” He added after a bit.
Curly just swallowed again as his stomach twisted, already feeling his throat contracting. He stood up, clapping a hand to his lips, trying to postpone the inevitable and buy himself just a little bit of time to prepare. He rushed for the trashcan that mostly held some crumpled pieces of paper or pens that ran out of ink. His head spun at the motion as he yanked the can from it’s place and braced himself.
Jimmy cringed at the sound of retching.
“Ew, shouldn’t have eaten that cake, Curly. I told you it’s awful at best. Guess your stomach agrees with me.”
Curly closed his eyes, not wanting to look at the mush of cake, bile and coffee coating the papers in the trashcan. He groaned at the pang he felt in his abdomen before the second wave of vomit burned his throat. He coughed a few times and tried to catch his breath.
“You think you done?” He heard Jimmy’s voice with a hint of concern and… was that amusement? He wasn’t sure, he still heard the rush of his own blood in his ears. He just grunted in reply. “Maybe you should go see the Nurse, huh?”
“Yeah… maybe I should…” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He felt disgusting. He needed to brush his teeth. “I’ll go find Anya. You hold the fort here, yeah?”
“Yes, of course!” Jimmy waved him off. “Go, I’ll babysit the autopilot for you.”
Curly nodded, more to himself than anyone else, and walked out of the cockpit.