Settling For Something Part 2

Posted on Sat Mar 4th, 2023 @ 7:04am by Warrant Officer Iryna Voznyuk & Staff Sergeant Nathanial "Nate" Cusack
Edited on on Mon Mar 6th, 2023 @ 1:48pm

Mission: Sojurn
Location: Relea
Timeline: Day 333 Late
4650 words - 9.3 OF Standard Post Measure

The water had been warm, but not too hot, and the tub had filled with bubbles. Soft alien music had played in the background, and the dim lighting had created a calming ambiance for the marine as she sat on the end of the tub wrapped in a huge towel. The bath had taken a sufficient amount of time to truly unwind and release tension she had been feeling for weeks but she felt so much better about everything. Her skin was left soft and moisturised, and her mind and body were fully rejuvenated enough to go back out into the living area to face Nate and the world. She stepped out in a towel wrapped around her body and her wet hair piled up onto of her head. “No fires or chaos I see.”

The initial few moments of his familiarisation with the kitchen facilities hadn't gone particularly well for Nate. Partially to blame was his lack of adequate procedure for cooking in the first place, being far more of the mentality that favoured placing an assortment of meat onto a grill and then just drinking a beer whilst he turned the slabs over a few times. There was no visible option for that here, however, just an array of technical wizardry that made a lot of alarming noises if you hit buttons out of sequence.

Somewhere in the mayhem, he had started to stumble upon success. It was purely accidental, he was not in any position to claim otherwise, but rather than attempt to produce fully constructed meals out of thin air, he had trial-and-errored his way to fabricating an array of ingredients. Currently, rather triumphantly, in the midst of inventing a sort of curried latke to go with the shrimp-ish looking things he had frying. Extensive taste-testing had at least convinced him that everything was palatable and, just like that, he was a chef. It was invigorating, in fact, an excitement for something new that he'd not experienced in over a year.

Glancing up, he paused, tilted his head to the side, and then levelled the utensil he was fashioning into a flip at her. "Now that's not fair." Taking a moment too long to absorb the fact that she was only wearing a towel, the marine jumped as an eruption of cooking oil, (he hoped), from the pan told him to turn the shrimp...things. "I will have you know, I am well on the way to opening my own restaurant at this point." Not that any restaurant worth its food license would have had quite so much chaos spread from one side of the kitchen to the next, and that was without the failed attempts that had ended up in the trash recycler.

“You have seen me in a towel before.” She pointed out quietly as she moved to where her back was and pulled out a long top wiggling it on over the the towel before pulling it down to allow her to wiggle into shorts. “It seems so.” She noticed as she joined him in the kitchen area and started to move some of the chaos to the recycling unit.

Seeing-her-in-a-towel before wasn't necessarily the best memory to evoke in aiding Nate to concentrate. Of course, back then she'd been off-limits by a country mile and it wasn't worth evoking her sharp tongue to do anything more than shove momentary admiration right down away out of sight. It was generally considered etiquette anyway, marine life involved enough living on top of one another that objectification was frowned upon. At least overly ostentatious displays of it.

Now? Now he was being given permission to look and limited permission to touch and it was somehow crueller in a way that Nate was not about to complain about it. Filing away his suspicion that she'd done it on purpose behind a faint smile, he focused instead on his creations. "Now, I'm not going to say that I really know how I did it. There is also a lot of proof of how often I failed to do it." He glanced around the mess and snatched up the nearest pile of peelings to dump into the recycler.

The Marine smiled at the man taking in the efforts that he had obviously gone through. It was cleaner in mere moments with them cleaning up together. “There we go.” She said finally turning to look at what he had made just in time for her stomach to growl.

Plating up made for a strange looking meal; shrimp with potato cakes that tasted somewhat like a decent Jalfrezi in a form Nate had never expected to experience it in. Whatever the butter was that he'd fried the shrimp in, and he'd really decided that he didn't want to find out what any of the ingredients were lest they be from origins that dampened his sense of achievement, it provided enough flavour that he hadn't added much more to it and the resulting drizzle of it over the top served as a sauce garnish. Plucking out an eating utensil that somewhat resembled a fork from the stash sticking up from a caddy, he presented Iryna with both plate and means of tasting in one proud flourish. "I don't know what any of it is but it tastes not as bad as you'd expect."

She watched him finish up with a smile and a new appreciation for him trying something that he really did not feel like he could do. “I grew up on Ukha so this will be delicious.” The woman said taking the plate and fork. She took a testing taste and made a happy sound. She completely approved of it all. “This is really good, Nate. Way better than Ukha.” It was hard to go wrong with Ukha which was a fish soup with a clear broth but her mother had always made it taste burnt. How you messed up root vegetables, parsley, leeks, and dill she would never know but there they were.

Having never aspired in his life to master the culinary arts, Nate nevertheless looked rather pleased with himself. "I couldn't tell you what any of it is," he pointed out frankly. "I decided after the first few attempts tasted like chewy seawater that I just wouldn't think about it too much." He paused a moment, considering the towel on her head as it was a fair safer option than the slightly damp shirt clinging to the rest of her. "So what's the verdict? I've delivered on my end of the deal, did the bathroom live up to expectations?"

The woman took another bite and nodded. This was certainly something different than what she’d had on the ship for awhile. It was chewy, but it was tangy and it hit all the right notes for her. “You did good this is really good, I highly approve of your accidental meal.” She assured before glancing back at the bathroom and smiled. “It did.” She was more than happy with how the bath had gone.

"Well, I," declared Nate, taking up his own fork and stabbing a shrimp in triumph, "very nearly managed to go whole minutes at a time without speculating at all about what you were doing in there." Grinning around his mouthful, he was suddenly very grateful that there was an entire kitchen bench between them. He'd been on the receiving end of her knuckles before, practically wore a permanent bruise on his upper arm as a result of them, in fact. "I may have to take you up on the whole shower thing though; definitely not cold anymore, but I'm pretty sure I stink of things I don't want to consider food again."

“I was doing nothing other than relaxing and getting clean.” She assured quietly having been very happy with feeling parts of her body no longer stressed and under pressure. “I have got rid of the tension that I had not know I was having. You should. I can go and get you some clean clothes if you want?” She asked sitting more comfortably on the chair.

Nate chuckled. "Wasn't fishing for details," he promised, being at least partially honest. The boundaries she was attempting to set were solidifying at least, which helped given how very different they were than what he was used to. Uncertainty wasn't something Nate typically revelled in but being charged with the responsibility of handling their situation with care was a level of trust he couldn't claim to have been shown very often in his life. He might have lacked the intuition for it but he could make up for that with direct appeals for guidance. At the very least, he wanted to try. The journey home was a long time to practise new things, after all.

Sawing half a latke in half with his fork, Nate scooped it up and chewed thoughtfully as he considered her offer. "I can grab my own change of clothes," he eventually decided, shaking his head at the notion that she needed to do anything more than she already had. The day had been complicated and aspects of it still struck a nasty chord if he dwelled on them for too long but Nate had at least reached a point of understanding how far out of her comfort zone Iryna had pushed herself to make amends. To try and fix things. To try and start something. He'd been ready for her to fall asleep in that bathtub, though he hadn't figured out how he was going to tuck her in bed with his eyes firmly squeezed shut. "Or I can just head back to my space igloo." He watched her closely. "That's still an option."

“I know but I would like to hang out a bit more if you want to. No pressure here the ball is in your court.” She said softly trying to put some of it on him. She was happy for him to stay and nothing more needed to happen but if he was not at all comfortable then she was happy for that. She did not want to push things but she would be happy to snuggle up in bed. “Will be more comfortable than the floor of the pod.” She said lightly looking at her food.

With a sound of disgruntled defeat to punctuate the way his head dropped back, shoulders stooped dramatically under the weight of enforced decisiveness, Nate skewered a mouthful of food and chewed on it with exaggerated emphasis. It was mostly meant playfully but also carried shades of a very familiar impatience that wasn't likely to dissipate just because there were a few extra layers of understanding to cushion the way their personalities like to send up sparks. "Fine," he eventually conceded, narrowing his eyes in mock suspicion. "You can be in charge of fresh clothes but I better not wind up with polka dots." Three more shrimp ended up on his fork before disappearing into his mouth to muffle an attempt at, "Lemme take a shower first, we can figure out the rest when I don't stink."

A cooperative man would have waited for her to hand him a change of clothing but Nate wasn't going to let a change in romantic fortunes soften him too much to opportunities to make a nuisance of himself. He disappeared into the bathroom, creating the expectation that he simply needed to use it for other reasons whilst waiting, but several minutes later, the sound of running water indicated he hadn't seen any point in preserving modesty. She could either open the door and hurl the clothing in or wait for him to put on his own towelled fashion show.

"Polka dots are not your style." The woman called over him smiling as he finally relaxed a little and disappeared off to the bathroom. She finished up her meal and cleaned up enough that the place looked like a meal had not been created. She quickly left the room and attempted to get into Nate's room to grab some clothes but she could not get into it. She would just have to figure out the machine. Slipping back inside and still hearing the shower going she went to the machine that had been used to create items previously. She pressed the purple button and brought up a menu that for a few moments fluttered between different languages before settling on something that she could read. She gaped for a moment but then remembered the universal translator that they had been used on the bridge of the ship to speak. "Well, that makes things easier." It was not perfect but she was able to create clothing for him to wear.

All joke's aside, the obvious surplus of available water made for stress relief that even Nate couldn't argue with. Standing beneath scalding hot water, allowing it to drain away the day's sins, was a luxury that was going to be hard to give up when the time to leave finally sent them spiralling back towards reality. Unlike many who came before him, Nate didn't really sing in the shower, but he did whistle. He was decently good at it too, though there were definitely times when it seemed like he only knew one line of a song. At one point, a muttered curse was loud enough to announce the moment he introduced his injured hand to the piping hot stream, but otherwise the only indication that he was even still alive as the minutes ticked by was the shrill echo of eight-bars of As Time Goes By.

Iryna grinned as she heard the man whistling in the shower and shook her head as she made herself one of the drinks that the Realeians had left. It smelt like chocolate and comfort all in the same cup which was nice and familiar, to say the least. It reminded her of something in the under tone of the taste but it made her feel warm so it gave her time to mentally prepare for what came next.

What came next was the inevitable moment where Nathanial Cusack, who had never been particularly modest to begin with, burst from her bathroom wearing a towel around his waist, another draped around his neck, and the most ridiculous looking iridescent-green shower cap that had clearly only just been put on because his hair was saturated and the cap most decidedly was not.

The future beckoned and offered Iryna a refund as long as she acted swiftly.

An index finger pointed upwards towards his head. "Why would a bunch of fish-people need this?"

Iryna cocked her head to the side and nearly spat out her drink but just managed to swallow it before laughing. She could not even take in anything else around him thanks to the ridiculous situation he had put them in. "They would not but I very much needed the laugh." She said walking over and taking it off his head. "Silly human." She said running hand through his damp hair.

There had always been a side to Nate's nature that made a mockery of things. Usually with good intentions, or at the very least without any orchestrated attempt to be an insensitive prick. To say there was an element of purpose to his antics at the moment wouldn't have been entirely inaccurate, mostly because it seemed somewhat important to the ultimate success of the evening that things not take a turn for the overly-serious again. Pensiveness churned up intensity and that was a state of mind that was going to make certain impulses harder to control. He was capable of respecting her wishes, he was just also hopeful that he could do so without having to apologise for bloodflow that was somewhat out of his control.

He poked his tongue out at her.

"Did you get my polka dots yet?"

Iryna nodded at him. He was trying to keep things light which was good for them. It might allow them both to go to bed without being angry at the other. "Mmm hmm... I have discovered that the machine had a translation function so I was able to get you all the things you will need." She pointed to the pile of male clothing on the end of the bed. "I'll give you some privacy." She stepping back over to where she had been looking out the window with her spicy hot chocolate.

Despite all the opportunities to make an absolute pest of himself at this point, Nate wisely opted to simply get dressed. It wasn't lost on him that he'd spent a decent amount of everyone's patience with him already today and though the shower had been wonderful, it had washed off everything she'd used to treat his hand and a dull throb seemed intent on reminding him of how stupid he'd been. If he was honest, he still didn't really regret confronting Jamesson, was struggling against intense resentment to give the man any sort of benefit of the doubt, but he could at least admit that punching a brick wall wasn't very smart. Warm enough for the moment to pad around barefoot in just the long-sleeved shirt she'd selected for him, he gave his hair a quick rub dry and let it settle sticking every which way as he wandered to re-join her, hand elevated to cradle close to his chest.

"If we could just figure out how to take endless supplies of hot water and fancy gizmos that make new clothes out of thin air with us, I could almost tolerate the rest of forever stuck in that tin can."

“Stock up.” The woman answered glancing to look at the man holding his hand to his chest. It was a logical response but she could understand where his thoughts were going. “Shall we get some more of that stuff on your hand? At least make it useable again.”

"Stock up on what, hot water?" Nate's expression was dubious for good reason; it wasn't as if they could install a few extra water tanks on the back nacelles and hope for the best. Glancing down at his hand, he shook his head and allowed a fleeting frown to express his impatience with being injured. "Not sure frog-paste is going to help enough for that."

“Was thinking more of the clothes.” The woman said quietly. She was fully aware that the water on the ship was Luke warm most of the time and why she had taken to showering really late at night so she could get a better pressure and more heat. “Well it’s a good job you do not really need it right now hmm.” She said trying to sound positive over it for him.

Nate didn't answer at first, concentrating instead on a proper examination of the hand now that its exposure to hot water had cleared away any residual mess that the first aid treatment had missed. It was swollen, crusted over with broken skin already starting to heal. Discolouration around the second and third knuckles showed where the brunt of the force had been taken and flexing, when he attempted it, clearly hurt. A painful reminder of a very dumb decision.

Iryna turned to look at the man and offered a smile to him trying to see what he was thinking. She touched his hand stopping the flexing that he was doing. She did not know why people did that when it obviously hurt them.

In Nate's case, it was partial self-punishment. The hot shower had given him time alone with his thoughts in a way that preparing dinner hadn't allowed and though he had emerged from the bathroom determined to create a spectacle, much of that had been an attempt to curb a pensive decline into brooding introspection. The day's events had settled for the time being into something promising but tomorrow would bring a need to address certain behavioural choices. If nothing else, there was no way Diaz was letting him get away with throwing a tantrum on her behalf.

A deep breath in through his nose was exhaled as a weary sigh.

“Want to talk more?” She offered taking back her hand to give him some space. He looked like he was troubled and as was the way of them today they had progressed to being angry to something more caring.

"I'd say the universe has heard enough from me for one day," came the quiet response, a little more self-reflective than Nate usually verbalised. He was genuine in his reluctance to push deeper into the day's motivations though, which was far more in keeping with usual deflection strategies. Lowering the hand with an intent to ignore the throbbing, he peered instead towards her mug. "Coffee?"

“Spicy hot chocolate.” She decided was the only way to sum it up. Slowly deciding her approach she put her cup down and slowly slid close to him and ran both hands down his arms. “I have not if you want to talk more I will listen.” She promised. It was the only way it was going to work is if she got him to talk as well as herself.

"Do I get spicy hot chocolate if I do?" It was still a deflection, though somewhat closer to a negotiation. Nate was momentarily intrigued, at least, by the notion of such a drink and if she was going to insist on a heart-to-heart, he'd need something to pep himself up with.

“Completely but you do not need to do anything we could just lie down but I’m here wanting to listen if you want to.” She didn't at all want there to be some type of awkwardness. “I want to be that for you. I am not quite as selfish and self centric as my mask makes it appear.” She was now regretting her past interactions but he was still there as much as she was.

"I don't generally do talking all that well." It was an understatement and Nate knew it, having botched just about every required psych evaluation when it came to mandatory debriefs. His service record held plenty of scribbled notes about his unwillingness to address underlying tension, or work through trauma, though his coping mechanisms had thus far been enough to avoid striking him from service entirely. He was an archetype of sorts and certainly not the first of his breed the corps' psychologists had ever dealt with. Nate hitched an eyebrow, not so much awkward as stubborn. "You might have noticed."

“Not in the slightest…” she teased just a little as she moved into his space again and wrapped him up in in a hug being mindful of his hand. “but you might have noticed I am trying here so I am trying to have something more meaningful with you but you do not need to talk we could just go to sleep.”

Mindful of his hand, Nate settled his arms around her shoulders and exhaled a disgruntled sound, not exactly indicative of displeasure but certainly partially suggestive of ingrained defense mechanisms. He didn't talk, he deflected, and most of the time if the need to vent was great, that deflection got him in trouble. It was a nice, predictable method that meant Nate was never very far from having to deal with fresh bullshit but he'd never been taught to be any other way. Cusack men didn't talk about their feelings, they yelled at each other to drown them out.

"Not sure I can give you any secret code for unlocking Nate Cusack," he said dryly. "And it's a bit hard to talk about stuff I don't even think I've figured out myself yet." It was as much of an admission as he felt comfortable with, already feeling the prickle of discomfort irritating his hackles. "Some of what happened today is on its way to improving." He smiled ruefully and brought his good hand around to ease a damp strand of hair away from her eyes. His expression sobered almost immediately. "I guess some of the bigger stuff will take a bit more time to sort itself out."

“You do not need to explain to me.” She said wanting to lean up to kiss the look on his face away but he looked like he was in a lot of pain with his hand. “It will sort itself out eventually and fall into place.” She confirmed knowing how the process worked. With healing a little came the clarity that time was needed for all the rest.

What he needed, Nate decided, was time to turn frustration into some sort of forward momentum. Somewhere buried beneath his behaviour of late was the understanding that he no longer enjoyed life aboard the Atlantis. He was likely not alone in this but, given the nature of his initial deployment and the ongoing unlikelihood that a ranged assault specialist was ever going to be required unless the situation was truly dire, the marine didn't have the same fall-back purpose that a lot of the main crew did. They'd done their best to maintain the charade, had trained and kept their equipment as functional as possible, but then they'd started to die and suddenly it was a very different ballgame. Had the mission kept up its end of the bargain, he would have spent a maximum of three months on board before rotating out. Perhaps six months if someone back at command was still annoyed at him for some reason. Marine deployment was never expected to last for this long, and the impotence that came from feeling like they were all just waiting around for their turn to sacrifice themselves grated.

And so his temper flared and they went around and around in circles, only this time had been far worse. Nate didn't feel quite ready yet to confess just how serious he'd been when he'd offered her his pips, so certain in that blazing hot moment that he was not getting back on board. It spoke to the depth of his depression given that any attempt to stay would have condemned him to a life of eternal winter, which he clearly didn't cope well with. And the temptation wasn't gone, it just wasn't as appealing anymore, not when it meant leaving her to face impending doom alone.

Unless she wanted to join him.

It was too complicated to think about. The day had already done enough damage to his equilibrium. Settling his chin atop her head, Nate allowed the wave of indecision to wash over him and then just tucked all the thoughts back away to the cold pit where they belonged. "Why don't we just sleep," he eventually offered, finding the prospect of simple peace somehow more palatable than trying to force good spirits. "We can worry about trying to solve the universe's problems tomorrow."

Iryna could feel the cogs whirling in his head but did not ask what they were whirling for. It was too late in the day to unpack anymore she knew that but she was worried about him and what tomorrow could bring. But she pulled back and tugged on his hand leading him to the bed. “Do not need to solve the universe. Just us.” She said arguing that point.

"Same thing," came the flippant response as Nate allowed himself to be dragged towards a woman's bed, a rather unique experience of partial reluctance if only because he was already predicting that sleep without painkillers was going to be hard to come by. "Or at least the only part of the universe worth fixing. Probably."