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Marya Junková chewed on the inside of her cheek as she watched Maxwell Gotch and Vanellope Chapman talk to who Marya had dubbed ‘the check-in guy.’ Next to her, Olethra MacLeod was swaying and humming, having at some point hitched up her skirts to reveal a pair of pinstriped trousers.
“Why are you wearing four pants?” Marya asked, trying not to laugh.
“Hmm? Oh, it gets cold at night in Gulch Canyon. All my clothes I packed are from when I was twelve.” Marya would have done a spit take if she had a drink. God, she wanted a drink.
“Oh, you’ll be oiled up my boy. You’ll be lathered, my son,” the check-in guy said. Van threw a wink at her, and Marya felt heat rise in her cheeks.
“You alright, captain?” Olethra asked. Shit , she must have noticed the pink tinge her cheeks had taken on as she watched Van shrug off her wool waistcoat. She did not fully strip, of course, but her sleeves were rolled up as far as they could be and she handed her holster off. Marya ended up with both the waistcoat and holster, as she was likely going to be staying in place in the audience. She, somehow, also ended up with Maxwell’s shirt, jacket, and waistcoat. How did the kid wear so many clothes?
“Y’know what? My name’s not actually Maxwell Gotch. It’s The Max. Write it down, remember it.”
Van snorted. “Y’know what, that’s a good idea, ‘cause when you lose, then you can just-” Marya watched Maxwell tear off his gloves with his teeth, revealing still-scarring knuckles. The gloves, predictably, got passed to Marya.
When the announcer announced that Max and Van would be fighting one another, Marya’s heart dropped into her stomach. Thank anyone above who could hear her desperate, silent pleas that between the two of them, they had convinced the announcer to let the two of them fight three people. The black hole inside her stomach opened back up when she saw the brachiosaurus.
“I’m gonna get drunk in the audience,” Marya said. Olethra and Pappy nodded, and Monty patted her on the back. Van and Max took a moment to turn to her.
“Bet on us,” Van insisted. She had that gleam in her eye, the one Marya knew all too well. The one that landed her in the Uplands, adjusting to a new prosthesis without Marya or Comfrey or Pappy or Monty or anyone. The one that left Marya alone in Scrapsylvania, her only company her Aunt Zuzana and her rat. The one that made Comfrey disappear without a trace.
“Bet on us, Junková!” Maxwell also had an all-too-familiar expression- one Marya had seen on Van countless times. He needed to impress everyone, he needed to be seen, he needed to look like he had it together. He reminded her, in many ways, of herself. Olethra, obviously, filled the social niche- youngest member of the party, young and naive and full of hope- but Maxwell reminded her of Van, too. It was as though someone had distilled their personalities and brewed them together to form a perfect storm of rage and repression and the fear of repercussion. He had Marya’s age-old need to prove himself, and Van’s permanent roar of blood in his ears. “We don’t want anyone to actually work for us, but we can exchange it for information!”
Marya knew that was not going to go well. She had never been persuasive, much less when she was drunk, but she would damn well try. As she arranged everything in her hands, she heard hushed arguments between Pappy, Monty, Max, and Van.
“I’m not losing to a bloody vegetarian,” Van said as she pointed up to the literal brachiosaurus she was about to, apparently, fist-fight. Marya snorted. She knew that determination. It had never failed Van before, not really. As the two of them approached the fighting ring, Marya slipped into the crowd. Van’s waistcoat and Maxwell’s gloves were tucked safely in her pack, the rest of her stack positioned haphazardly over her arms as she whispered to a few people at the bar.
“To the brachiosaurus,” she said, buying a round of shots for a small group. She tried to take the shot, the alcohol burning her throat. “It’s been so long since I drank.”
Soon, the dingy fighting pit was filled with whispers egging on Van and Max. Oh, well. At least Marya was in good company. She watched Maxwell hit the ground hard, and Van easily dodged a punch from the one who’d been called Porcoro. Max slammed the other one- Ballast, Marya thought, the one who’d taken him down first- into the mat. Marya saw Max’s fists moving up and down, and some words she couldn’t hear- only the vague sounds of their voices- before Van’s familiar, scolding tone.
“Stop flirting and get fighting!” She started to attack the man on the ground. Marya saw Van looking up at the dinosaur with scrutinizing eyes before locking eyes with Pappy. She knew what she had to do. She ran outside with Pappy, searching in the dark city for a leaf to distract the brachiosaur with. She, at least, had the excuse of having taken her first very strong shot in the better part of a decade. She had even looked through everything she had on her and knew- she decided instead that she needed a leaf. Pappy had no excuse for this ridiculous decision.
Marya must have seen something to snap her out of it, because she realized that it was maybe the worst idea she’s ever had. She ran back inside to find Monty trying to yell at the dinosaur. When she locked eyes with Monty, she knew something had changed. The dinosaur smacked the one called Porcoro with its tail. Van was punching the one on the ground in the face, and that made something inside Marya’s stomach twist. That might be something to deal with later. She saw Van’s muscles flexing as she punched the man, and suddenly Marya was 25 again, blood spattering her face as she shot WASPs out of the sky and watched Van pummel men into the wooden deck. She was 25 and letting Van wipe the blood from her face, fingers dancing over her lips just a moment too long. She was 25 and leaning in, pressing her gaunt body against Van’s. She was 25 and Van was holding her waist, gasping softly into her mouth. She was 25 and looking at Van with the same hunger in her eyes she saved for a battle, and Van was looking right back.
She snapped out of her reverie as she saw Van take a hit to the head. She winced in sympathy. The one who hit her, however, was tackled to the floor by Max again. She couldn’t hear their words over the din of the crowd, but she heard Van and Max bickering. She did hear, however, Ballast saying from the floor, “My goodness, you’re giving me that good old feeling.”
Marya couldn’t help herself. “God, this place is so horny.” She certainly wasn’t projecting. She certainly wasn’t feeling some certain way about watching Van beat the shit out of a man, watching her chest heave and her shirt soak through with sweat and her arms flex and twist. She certainly wasn’t going to have dreams of Van in potentially fewer clothes than she had on now. She suppressed a shudder and sought out another drink.
Maxwell must have heard her. “There’s certainly nothing horny about this.”
Suddenly, a bunch of firecrackers went off inside the building, and a man fell from the upper levels.
“Who’s horny?” Olethra shouted, and Marya buried her face in her free hand. God, this was a shitshow.
Someone almost recognizable as Pappy with a bald cap on ran in, holding a leaf- he was still out there looking for that leaf?- and yelled, “I’m horny and a different guy!”
Marya felt like she was gonna pass out. Was this actually happening? Did an 80-year-old cowboy in a bald cap really run in and say that? Nevermind that, really, because Porcoro was hit back into the ground by the dinosaur. One out.
Maxwell shouted, slamming Ballast into a table next to the ring. “I yield, I yield,” Ballast called.
Marya had an idea. If the dinosaur left the ring, the two of them won. Vortex Warp shot out at the brachiosaur’s feet, sending him 90 feet away. Monty was falling through the air as Marya took mental responsibility for minor property damage. Van rushed to catch Monty.
“You alright, darlin’?” Van asked. Marya smiled. She had always found Van and Monty’s friendship endearing.
“It’s not the first time I’ve been caught by Van Chapman,” Monty said as the group filed out of the fighting pit and into the cool air.
“And it won’t be the last.” Van grinned as she shut the door behind Olethra, bracing against the bricks. Marya rushed forward to hug her tightly.
“You are so goddamn reckless,” she mumbled into Van’s shoulder. “I know you could’ve gotten hurt worse, but you can’t keep doing this shit.” Van sighed against the top of Marya’s head, blowing a bit of frizzy hair back into place.
“I know. I’m sorry.” Marya pulled back a little, searching for Maxwell before pulling him over to stand with them as well.
“You little shit.” She dug in her bag for bandage wrap and a splint. “Sit down.” She splinted his knee the way Monty had taught her years and years ago.
“What the hell are you doing?” Maxwell asked.
“Splinting your knee. You’ll be fine in the morning if you let me do this.” Van nodded at him, essentially telling him to shut up and do what he was told.
Van pressed a warm hand to Marya’s back, melting against her side.
“Are you feeling okay, Van?” Monty asked and reached down to scratch at her head.
“Think I’m concussed, just a little bit. Bruised but okay.” Van’s voice was muffled by the silk of Marya’s shirt. Monty must have pulled some bottle of painkiller from his pack, because Marya felt Van shake her head. “Max needs it more. I’ll just have some aioli when we get back.” Marya’s heart twisted. She tried hard not to be jealous of Bert. She really did- he clearly cared so much for Van and made her so happy- but she wished she could be the one to make her that happy. She was pulled out of her jealousy by Van nestling further against her.
“You probably shouldn’t sleep in a hammock tonight,” Marya said. “You and Bert can take my room.”
“Only if you’re there too,” Van mumbled. Her eyes were closed and she winced when Olethra laughed.
“I, um, okay.” Marya was feeling things about that.
By the time they got back to the ship, Van was struggling to keep her eyes open from exhaustion and pain.
“Oh, lovey,” Bert said, rushing to help Marya support her. “What happened?”
“Fighting pit,” Marya whispered. “She’s got a concussion.” Bert nodded. “You two are welcome to stay in my room tonight. She told me I also had to be there, but if you would prefer, I can sleep elsewhere.”
“I’m not going to kick you out of your own room, captain. I appreciate it. From what I’ve seen, that bed is plenty wide enough for all three of us.” Bert smiled.
“You are always welcome, I should clarify. Monty told me that she absolutely cannot sleep in a hammock tonight, though.” Marya laughed as softly as she could and unlocked the door to the captain’s quarters.
"You got your bell rung pretty hard, lovey," Bert murmured, helping Van into bed. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Marya and I are here, though." Marya didn't really know what to say to that. She floundered for a moment before pointedly looking away at her armoire as Van leaned up to kiss Bert. Van reached out toward Marya, making grabby hands at both her and Bert.
“I need to go get changed,” Marya said. “I will be back.”
Bert nodded. “Will you be alright for a bit if I get changed as well? I can bring your nightgown, too.” Van nodded and kissed Bert again. Her callused hands fidgeted with the sheets as she fought sleep; Marya took an infinity cube from her desk for her to toy with.
“Do not fall asleep yet. I know your corset is quite tight.” Pink rose to Marya’s cheeks at the admission, but Bert only nodded. She grabbed a nightgown from her armoire and scurried out.
“Gotch, what are you doing?” Maxwell was slumped against the wall next to the bathroom.
“Can’t… can't go downstairs.” It looked like every word took effort, and Marya felt that familiar ache in her chest. She ran through a mental checklist of what she had in her room- she did, in fact, have a cot in the closet, as well as extra pillows and blankets. She made the executive decision to scoop him up, struggling quite a bit but making it to her quarters with Maxwell no more injured than he was prior.
“Wait here. I will set up a cot for you.” Marya put a hand on his shoulder. She could still see that look in his eyes, the one Van had all too often, the one that led to hurt and love and the struggle between feelings and touch and fear. Maxwell had the look she had once, years and years ago, before she had even become captain, back when she was engineer and training to be pilot. That look could only lead to bad decisions.
Not that Marya was one to judge, though. She never could be.