Cabin Fever [Open to Wash's friends]

[unrecovered]

[Wash sat on his bed, legs crossed at the ankle, arms folded, staring at the wall. There was exactly one book in the room, and he'd finished it yesterday. No point in rereading it - not when he could remember the whole thing down to the goddamn word if he wanted to. The network was fairly quiet. There was no TV or radio in here. He was bored out of his goddamn mind and had been for - he checked the clock - the past two hours, at least.]

[Bed rest was bullshit.]

[Bones had insisted, and when Wash had insisted he was well enough to at least walk around the damn apartment, Bones had lifted him straight off the floor with his magic and hauled him back down the hall. There was no arguing with that.]

[Well, no, there was plenty of arguing with that. There was just no winning.]

[So he was stuck in his room, rapidly running out of distractions and reduced to staring at the wall. Great. Just great.]

Comments

[unrecovered]

[Something here still isn't quite clicking. Greg got him a ukulele. Because he...was worried about Wash being bored? Because he wanted to help?]

[Wait, wasn't he saving up for a van? And he said he couldn't afford the nice model, but he bought one for Wash anyway...]

[He can't reject it - can't tell Greg he should use the money on the van instead without hurting his feelings. And Greg had done this for him because...well, that's what friends do, right?]

[Wash filed that away in the back of his mind. He'd figure out a way to repay Greg somehow. Not right this second, but he would do it. For now, he shifted his grip on the ukulele, with absolutely no idea as to whether he was even remotely close to right, and looked at Greg.]

Um. Okay. How do we start?

[Clueless and slightly bewildered, evidently.]

[panspermia]

First's the grip. You gotta hold her kind of like it's a baby.

[After all, everything about Wash makes it obvious he has experience with THAT.

Greg reaches in, gently moving Wash's hands to help him get the proper hold.]

You got the neck-end right, but try squishing in with your right arm there. You know you're doing it right if you let go with either hand and she stays in place. There you go. You gotta hold her pretty high up on the body, so the elbow crook'll support, and it makes it easier to hear the music if you're singing.

[unrecovered]

[He's still holding it gingerly, like he might break it on accident, and letting Greg adjust his grip.]

I'm left handed. Does that make a difference?

[panspermia]

Whup, my bad. Just takes a flip over, here y'go.

[Without missing a beat, he swaps Wash's hands around. This is by far the most at ease Greg's been in the months since he's gotten here. He pauses, still grinning.]

I wasn't serious about the baby thing, y'know. Don't worry, it won't snap unless you go smacking it into the walls, or some Nox, or something.

[unrecovered]

[It's different, seeing Greg in his element. If only they could get him to be this comfortable with his magic...]

[Under Greg's instruction, he grips it a bit more firmly and smirks a little.]

And here I was planning on adding it to my arsenal.

[panspermia]

Hey, you've got your own fancy magic, now, you don't need to resort to this guy for ammo!

[Greg laughs as he says it, but after a second, a strange look passes over his face, and rubs his chin in thought.]

Though... I wonder if you could, actually...

[unrecovered]

[He raises an eyebrow. He's not following the turn this conversation just took.]

If I could what?

[panspermia]

Uh. Well, I dunno if it's actually possible, but... I mean, music is kinda like... nice-sounding wind.

[He laughs, rubbing his neck.] Ahh, just a dumb thought that jumped into my head.

[unrecovered]

[He's still a little lost. Does Greg think he can make music with his magic...?]

It's vibrations, not...

[He shakes his head. It might not be scientifically plausible, but fuck it, since when has science had anything to do with magic? Plus, he can't quite bring himself to tank Greg's dream.]

I don't know. At this point, I still have no idea what I'm capable of.

[panspermia]

Ah, it doesn't matter.

[Greg's quick to brush the idea off. He sure doesn't get enough about how magic works to try and reason out the idea any further. He doesn't need to waste Wash's time on a passing idea.]

All that stuff's for you to figure out when you're out of bed, anyway. I'm here to teach you how to play a C chord.

[unrecovered]

[...he's going to have to figure out how to do music with his magic now, even it if means setting up a bunch of wind chimes. He will figure it out.]

[But that's for the future. Right now, he's still starting with the basics.]

Okay. [He blinks, looks down at the ukulele, looks back up at Greg.] How do I do that.

[panspermia]

[It's not hard for Greg to fall back in step on his favored topic. This is what he knows, this is what he can do right for Wash.]

Just hold down the A string--this one, here--right between the second and third fret. That's it! Now...

[He leans back, positively beaming in anticipation.]

With your left index finger. Give 'er a strum.

[unrecovered]

[He does, gently, and when it's not a total disaster he does it again and looks over at Greg. Okay?]

[panspermia]

And we're in business.

[Look at this big stupid grin he's got on. YOU MADE A MUSIC, HE'S SO PROUD OF YOU.]

[unrecovered]

[There's a little part of Wash that craves approval - since before Freelancer, though the Director's ranking system only made it worse - and that little part positively blooms under Greg's praise. It manifests as a small smile on Wash's face. That's a C chord. He'll remember that.]

So what's next?