Work Text:
Travis lounged on the folding chair beside Gable’s bunk. It was a broadly built chair, good for spreading out in - at least if you were a fairly unremarkable human size rather than as imposing as the angel, for whom it was the only reasonably comfortable chair on the ship. That said, Travis could look as though he was lounging on almost any surface in practically any circumstance, even if he was actually doing something else entirely. At the moment, he was keeping watch for Gable while they changed their bandages. It was unlikely that anyone on the ship would have the nerve to burst into Gable’s room for anything less than a life-or-death emergency, but such emergencies did sometimes happen onboard the Uhuru, and it didn’t hurt to be careful. The angel unwrapped and rebound the ever-open wounds along their shoulders, and the changeling kicked his feet up on the arm of the chair, his posture artfully lax even as his eyes stayed sharply fixed on the locked doorway.
“There. Done for a day or two.” Gable pulled their tube top back over the bandages, and began to button a shirt over that. “Thanks for the extra security. You’re free to go.”
Travis didn’t move. “How long until sunset?”
“About two hours still.”
“No rush, then. I don’t have anywhere to be.”
Gable gave him a sharp look that, to Travis’ practiced eye, clearly read “and you assume I don’t, either?” He shrugged, and noted with some satisfaction that Gable merely shrugged as well and continued to button their shirt rather than hustling him out of the room.
“Suit yourself. You’re welcome to stay for a while, just don’t expect me to do anything interesting. It’s been a long day.”
“You undersell your own charm, my friend. I’ll be happy to just bask in your presence for a while.”
Gable gave him another look. Travis was something of a student of Gable’s looks. The fact that they were generally delivered from a height of seven feet added an intensity to most of them, even if the angel’s intention was subtle. This one meant something like “I know your flattery is more about your enjoyment of your own voice than about the subject supposedly flattered, but I will allow you to continue.” Being the sole confidante about much of Gable’s past afforded him certain allowances, which he used for all they were worth.
“Now that you mention it, though…” Travis stared at the ceiling nonchalantly, but he felt gray eyes fixed on the back of his head in mild exasperation. “…I did have something I was wondering.”
“Wonder aloud or privately, I know your penchant for both.”
“Do angels buss?”
There was a moment of perfect silence in the room. Travis kept his gaze on the ceiling and imagined he could hear the faint hiss of hot air expanding the featherweave far above their heads.
“You’ve asked me this before, Travis.”
“Yes, and you avoided the subject.”
“Because the ship was suddenly attacked, not because I didn’t have an answer.”
“Well, we’re not under attack right now, and I’ve got time.” Travis rested his chin on one hand and looked up from his catlike sprawl on the angel’s huge chair. Gable had their back to him. There was another long moment of silence.
“We can.”
Travis pushed his luck. “But do you?”
“Not in any way humans would understand.”
Travis knew a cop-out when he heard one. He gave Gable a look of his own, even though he had to throw it unsatisfyingly at the back of their head. Still, the incredulous pause seemed to work. Gable turned around.
“Everything was more - ceremonial than it is here. We didn’t do anything simply to do it, everything had purpose. It wasn’t something that came up.”
“Hold on, that’s not what you said just now. You said you did do it, it just wasn’t understandable to humans.”
This look had fire in it. Not literally, at least, but Travis could feel the heat nonetheless. He held Gable’s gaze and told himself that he had what was likely a unique window into the actions of the divine, and that if making thoroughly interesting use of it meant he was eventually chased out of this room at swordpoint by a frustrated angel, it would still have been worth it.
“There isn’t a perfect parallel to anything humans do. I certainly wouldn’t pick bussing as the closest word, if I was looking for one. It was more like… sparring. Or dancing.”
Travis raised an eyebrow. “Not to downplay any of your glorious ceremony, but poetically-minded humans compare both of those to bussing all the time.”
Gable gave a low chuckle. “I seriously doubt their words come close to the experience.”
“The human experience, or the angelic one?”
“The- you know I meant the angelic one, you insufferable- you’ve seen me fight. No one human fights like I fight, and no one dances like I dance.”
Travis sensed a button he could push. “So when you bring out your sword, is that like you’re b-“
“You also know that’s not what I meant! It’s just an example, the closest one I can give that I know you’ve seen.”
The changeling slid off of the chair and stood facing the angel. “It sounds like there’s another one you could give without too much trouble.”
Gable eyed him suspiciously. Travis held out a hand more dramatically than was strictly necessary. “You could dance with me.”
He had expected the laughter, if he was honest with himself, but it still stung a little. Gable wiped what looked like an actual tear from one of their eyes, still laughing. “I’m sorry, Travis, it’s just I’m used to dancing with partners a bit more-“
“Strong? Ethereal? Seven feet tall and wreathed in flames?”
“Among other things, yes.”
“Well then, I’m sorry I asked.” Travis pulled his coat off the arm of the chair and began to put it on.
Gable started a little as he headed towards the door. “Hey now, hold on-“
“No need. You’ve made yourself quite clear.”
“Don’t be an ass, Travis, you just surprised me, that’s all. It’s not something I expected to be asked.”
“Clearly.” He continued towards the door, and had one hand reaching for it when he heard Gable’s voice behind him, much quieter.
“I’m never going to go back.”
This was a very different moment of silence than the ones Travis had intentionally goaded Gable out of earlier. He bit his tongue.
“I can’t, no matter what I do. There’s nothing there to go back to. It’s easier to just let some of those ceremonies go.”
Travis leaned his head on the door and debated the advisability of turning around.
“Nothing here is ever going to be the same. I can’t forget, but I try not to compare when I can help it.”
Travis turned around slowly. Gable was looking out the window into the clouds, which blew by in roiling waves, grey and wild. The angel’s face shifted back towards him, and for a moment their hair looked like one more swirling piece of the sky beyond. Travis took a gamble.
“Well, if there’s anything you can count on humans for, it’s their inconsistency. I’ve danced the same dances in different ports and it’s never been the same from one night to the next. Even the most ceremonial people can’t always be consistent from dance to dance. I just try to enjoy the moment. No point in dwelling on comparisons.”
Gable’s face was still impassive, but they raised one eyebrow. “I can’t tell if you’re talking about dancing or bussing.”
“As I recall, you’re the one who said there wasn’t a perfect word for either of them, at least where they concern you.”
A faint smile joined the raised eyebrow. Gable extended a hand, which Travis looked at uncertainly.
“If you laugh at me like that again, Gable, I really will be leaving.”
“No laughing. Not like that, anyway. Just a dance.” Gable’s eyes were smiling now, too.
Travis felt himself caught up in his own twisting of terms. “It didn’t sound like dancing has ever been just a dance for you.”
“I suppose not. As much of a dance as I can safely offer, then, perhaps.”
“Without producing a wreath of flames?”
“I don’t imagine that would suit either you or the ship, so no.”
Travis decided he’d played hard-to-get for about as long as he could muster, and gotten about as much reassurance as the angel could offer. He took the proffered hand, and felt Gable pull him forward and wrap their other arm around his waist. He reached up to place his own free hand on their shoulder before realizing the utter insufficiency of his reach. He fumbled awkwardly for a moment, eventually settling for resting his hand on their upper arm.
“How long until sunset?”
“An hour and a half, if you want to be safe about it.”
“I suppose I could spare the time for a dance or two.”
Gable gave a soft laugh, which felt like a gift. “How lucky I am to have met someone so generous with his time.”
Travis began to laugh as well, the sound turning into a gasp as Gable swung him around. The curious effect the angel always left on the eyes, that shifting and blurring of space and form, felt different when viewed in motion and up close. They seemed to glow, a light that filled the room and softened the edges of his vision. There was the clearest Gable, holding him, but all around him was Gable as well - the Gable of a moment before, leaning into the spin, and the Gable to come, moving forward and dipping him smoothly before pulling him upwards again. It was as though the angel was dancing him not only through the slightly cramped space of the cabin, but also through a small and carefully bounded stretch of time. Through the window behind them, the grey clouds rolled forward and backward and forward again. Travis had the faintly dizzy thought that, however hard it tried, sunset would have a hard time reaching him before the dance was over.
Gable hadn’t been lying. There was no good word for it in any human language.