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storypaint) wrote2015-04-13 11:59 am
storypaint) wrote2015-04-13 11:59 am
[Thrilling Adventure Hour] retired is being twice tired (Sparks/Ginny)
Title: retired is being twice tired
Fandom: Thrilling Adventure Hour
Length: 1839 words
Prompt: n/a
Pairing: Sparks gen with Sparks/Ginny
Other: Also at AO3.
Excerpt: An episode tag, detailing some of the events that occurred between Crisis on Infinite Marses part 1 and part 2 and Malware Wars. Or: Sparks Nevada opens a hardware store.
Sparks thought about hammers, and nails, and how one always went with the other, even if there were sometimes specialty nails involved. And he thought about robot outlaws, and paperwork, and birdhouses. He'd always wanted to build one.
"Marshal of Earth," Sparks repeated. It didn't sound right -- he'd been calling himself the marshal on Mars for so long that it had a certain, comfortable ring. Earth: green trees and blue skies, instead of fields of crimson, orange-brick clouds. It had taken his eyes a while to adjust when he'd first come here, his eyes watering and blurring, searching for a relief from the constant, consistent redness, but he'd gotten there eventually.
"That's right," his mother said, looking at him expectantly. Everyone was staring at him like he'd grown a new limb or maybe gotten offered a job he shouldn't hesitate to take. He knew he talked about Earth too much sometimes, about the way it had shaped him and made him into the kind of man who would be a good marshal. It was his secret that he'd never spent a lot of time there, what with being a military kid. He'd seen the cool metal walls of spaceship after spaceship, and still felt nostalgically comfortable in similarly cramped spaces, but Earth had been a whirlwind two weeks every year in a different country, a vacation. Sparks had seen crumbling pyramids and redwood forest and the tallest skyscraper in the world, but he had never stayed.
"Can I... can I think about it?" Sparks blurted out, and his mother pursed her lips in that way she had of showing she was disappointed. She'd never say it -- that was always his father's job -- and oh man, what would his dad say when he found out that Sparks hadn't jumped to the challenge? Sparks could hear him grumbling in his head so loudly that he was almost surprised that his father wasn't present.
"Of course, Noodle," she said, after another too long hesitation. "You just give the USSA a call when you're ready, okay? Teleport man!"
It wasn't any better after she left. They were all looking at him, bubbling over with questions, and he had no answers. He should want this, he shouldn't have hesitated. But he did, and he couldn't say why.
"Does this mean you're staying on Mars with me?" Ginny asked, and the note of hope sent shivers down his back.
"I'm going to explore my options," Sparks said.
"Seriously?" Croach asked.
*
He spent three hours the next morning sitting at his desk and fiddling with his space pen. Then he sat down and carefully wrote out his resignation letter for the position of marshal on Mars. It didn't really make him feel better. Taking off that badge, even just to put another one on, was going to mean a big change.
He shut his eyes and thought about Ginny, and about the other Ginny's, the people he might have been, and the one he was now. He wanted to live with her, but then again, he didn't. It was -- again -- another big step, and although he'd suggested the idea himself, he wanted to take it back as soon as the words left his lips.
Sparks thought about hammers, and nails, and how one always went with the other, even if there were sometimes specialty nails involved. And he thought about robot outlaws, and paperwork, and birdhouses. He'd always wanted to build one.
He filed the resignation to send to his superiors, and he got up from his desk and went down to the bank to have a talk with Maisy Mercer. He'd helped the bank when there was a robbery, a while back, and he thought he still had good credit in her eyes. Plus, he knew Arnie was itching to retire and enjoy his grandchildren; it was great timing.
Something ought to be, right?
*
The loan was easy. The conversations afterward were harder.
*
"So... you don't want to move in together?" she asked, but before he could reply, she went on. "I mean-- I guess-- we've only known each other a few months, that makes sense, take it slow... It's way too early for a commitment right that. Good idea."
He tried not to hear the disappointment in her voice.
"I was thinking of taking a room with Widow Johnson," he said. "Nearby. It will be closer to the hardware store."
"The what?"
*
"But how will I fulfill my onus to you, Sparks Nevada?" Croach asked.
"That's-- I'm telling you, I'm not going to be the marshal anymore. On Mars, anyway," Sparks said, again.
"I heard you previously," Croach said. "This is why I inquired as to how I can fulfill my onus to you, earned during the time when you were marshal on Mars. It has increased substantially since you saved several universes earlier this week."
"You want to work Thursday afternoons in the hardware store?" Sparks offered.
Croach considered. "I will work Monday mornings as well," he said. "I understand that human beings are not fond of that portion of the week, so taking on that burden will help decrease my onus faster."
"Sure, sure," Sparks said. "If it makes you happy."
Croach just looked at him.
*
Red took her time, but she always did. Sparks took the opportunity to start cleaning out his desk. When she came in, he motioned her to the chair in front of it. She sat comfortably.
"What's all this about, Nevada?" she asked.
"I know the USSA is going to ask me for a recommendation for a new marshal," Sparks said, watching her expression as carefully as he watched a person drawing a gun. "I'd like to recommend you, Red. Can't think of a better replacement."
She was surprised at that, but the expression fluttered across her face and was gone. She smiled instead, a slow, satisfied grin.
"About time you recognized it, too," Red said. "I didn't want it, last time you offered--"
("To be my deputy," Sparks mumbled, "not the same thing--")
"But I reckon it could be a nice change, being on the official side of the law. I've embraced my Martian side, and now I might try embracing the human one for a bit. Settle into it, like."
"You, settling?" he said, trying to lighten up the mood. Here at least was a cheery discussion, something to celebrate.
"I know, I know," Red said, "but I have a good deputy in mind, he can help out when I feel the need to wander. Don't worry, Sparks. Mars will be in good hands."
"I'm not worried," Sparks said, fiddling with a little Mars rock he'd been using as a paperweight.
"When are you leaving?" she asked softly.
"Huh?" he said, not looking up from the rock. He was scratching his initials into the side. "I'm not going anywhere yet. I'm thinking of opening a hardware store."
"What?"
She rose from her seat and leaned forward over the desk in an attempt to get his attention. He didn't look up.
"You know, one of the other me's ran a hardware store, he seemed pretty chill. I'm owed some time off anyway, worse things to do on a break," he said. He could feel her eyes burning into his head, and then she straightened abruptly and strode to the door.
"I know you ain't asked my advice, Nevada, but I can think of fifteen better things you could be doing besides-- besides playing shopkeeper! And I know you can too."
"Maybe I don't want to be doing those things right now," he shot back.
"Well, you can take it from me, Sparks: riding a circular trail don't get you anywhere but the same place with a tired horse."
She was gone before he could reply, and he mumbled something about the metaphor to himself instead.
*
Friday was Sparks’s first full day managing the hardware store by himself. He thought he did a decent job. The place was small, but Arnie was incredibly organized, and everything was neatly labeled. Thursday, he’d mostly just sat around and listened to Arnie talk about what he wanted to do with his retirement. Croach had offered a number of suggestions.
Felton had come in early Friday to buy some space nails to repair his hypercattle fence. He’d been surprised to see Sparks sitting behind the counter, but Sparks explained that there wouldn’t be any gap in the marshal service, so Felton calmed down.
"Barkeep said you were going to be marshal of Earth," Felton said, looking up at Sparks under his hat.
"It's on the table," Sparks said, kind of irritated that the whole town knew his business, but also not surprised.
"It's on the table and you ain't left yet?" Felton asked.
Sparks opened his mouth to go through the whole spiel that he'd given to Red, and then he sighed. "Not yet," he said. "That'll be 2.99, Felton."
Felton paid him. Sparks made change and bagged the nails. After a moment's conversation about the weather, Felton left.
"This is going to be great," Sparks said to the empty shop.
*
It was, most of the time. Seriously. He got up at the same time every morning and went to bed at the same time every night. In-between, he sold hammers and rope, mixed paint, did inventory, and all of the other things that were necessary while running a hardware store. The he went home and spent time with Ginny, or if she was off-planet, he made birdhouses or read novels. No one pulled a gun on him. No one asked him to save the planet, no one asked him to do anything besides simple, easy things. He made enough to pay the rent on his room and on the store.
He enjoyed it. He was almost terrified by how much he enjoyed it. His stress melted away, he had long and involved conversations about the merits of primer before paint. There was paperwork, and Red did a bang-up job of keeping the planet safe. He couldn't even be too bothered when Croach openly consented to be her deputy.
He didn't call his mother, or anyone else in the USSA. He ignored the messages on his comm device. If they really wanted him for marshal, they could wait until he was ready.
He had a good thing going, he wasn't going to mess it up.
*
Sparks slept well, he slept really well, but he dreamed some nights of riding the plains, of the familiar comfortable weight of his robot fists, of metal corridors and white clouds and wanting everything to be perfect, and everything not to change. And of horses. (He didn't understand why his mind was so full of horses.) He figured that was pretty normal, though -- everyone had little regrets in their lives, after all, didn't they? He could live with it.
When the phone rang in the hardware store, he took McKinnon's order and promised to deliver it to the saloon. It'd be good to have a walk midday. Maybe he and Ginny could have lunch after she met her new partner.
As he walked down the street, he began to whistle.
Fandom: Thrilling Adventure Hour
Length: 1839 words
Prompt: n/a
Pairing: Sparks gen with Sparks/Ginny
Other: Also at AO3.
Excerpt: An episode tag, detailing some of the events that occurred between Crisis on Infinite Marses part 1 and part 2 and Malware Wars. Or: Sparks Nevada opens a hardware store.
Sparks thought about hammers, and nails, and how one always went with the other, even if there were sometimes specialty nails involved. And he thought about robot outlaws, and paperwork, and birdhouses. He'd always wanted to build one.
"Marshal of Earth," Sparks repeated. It didn't sound right -- he'd been calling himself the marshal on Mars for so long that it had a certain, comfortable ring. Earth: green trees and blue skies, instead of fields of crimson, orange-brick clouds. It had taken his eyes a while to adjust when he'd first come here, his eyes watering and blurring, searching for a relief from the constant, consistent redness, but he'd gotten there eventually.
"That's right," his mother said, looking at him expectantly. Everyone was staring at him like he'd grown a new limb or maybe gotten offered a job he shouldn't hesitate to take. He knew he talked about Earth too much sometimes, about the way it had shaped him and made him into the kind of man who would be a good marshal. It was his secret that he'd never spent a lot of time there, what with being a military kid. He'd seen the cool metal walls of spaceship after spaceship, and still felt nostalgically comfortable in similarly cramped spaces, but Earth had been a whirlwind two weeks every year in a different country, a vacation. Sparks had seen crumbling pyramids and redwood forest and the tallest skyscraper in the world, but he had never stayed.
"Can I... can I think about it?" Sparks blurted out, and his mother pursed her lips in that way she had of showing she was disappointed. She'd never say it -- that was always his father's job -- and oh man, what would his dad say when he found out that Sparks hadn't jumped to the challenge? Sparks could hear him grumbling in his head so loudly that he was almost surprised that his father wasn't present.
"Of course, Noodle," she said, after another too long hesitation. "You just give the USSA a call when you're ready, okay? Teleport man!"
It wasn't any better after she left. They were all looking at him, bubbling over with questions, and he had no answers. He should want this, he shouldn't have hesitated. But he did, and he couldn't say why.
"Does this mean you're staying on Mars with me?" Ginny asked, and the note of hope sent shivers down his back.
"I'm going to explore my options," Sparks said.
"Seriously?" Croach asked.
*
He spent three hours the next morning sitting at his desk and fiddling with his space pen. Then he sat down and carefully wrote out his resignation letter for the position of marshal on Mars. It didn't really make him feel better. Taking off that badge, even just to put another one on, was going to mean a big change.
He shut his eyes and thought about Ginny, and about the other Ginny's, the people he might have been, and the one he was now. He wanted to live with her, but then again, he didn't. It was -- again -- another big step, and although he'd suggested the idea himself, he wanted to take it back as soon as the words left his lips.
Sparks thought about hammers, and nails, and how one always went with the other, even if there were sometimes specialty nails involved. And he thought about robot outlaws, and paperwork, and birdhouses. He'd always wanted to build one.
He filed the resignation to send to his superiors, and he got up from his desk and went down to the bank to have a talk with Maisy Mercer. He'd helped the bank when there was a robbery, a while back, and he thought he still had good credit in her eyes. Plus, he knew Arnie was itching to retire and enjoy his grandchildren; it was great timing.
Something ought to be, right?
*
The loan was easy. The conversations afterward were harder.
*
"So... you don't want to move in together?" she asked, but before he could reply, she went on. "I mean-- I guess-- we've only known each other a few months, that makes sense, take it slow... It's way too early for a commitment right that. Good idea."
He tried not to hear the disappointment in her voice.
"I was thinking of taking a room with Widow Johnson," he said. "Nearby. It will be closer to the hardware store."
"The what?"
*
"But how will I fulfill my onus to you, Sparks Nevada?" Croach asked.
"That's-- I'm telling you, I'm not going to be the marshal anymore. On Mars, anyway," Sparks said, again.
"I heard you previously," Croach said. "This is why I inquired as to how I can fulfill my onus to you, earned during the time when you were marshal on Mars. It has increased substantially since you saved several universes earlier this week."
"You want to work Thursday afternoons in the hardware store?" Sparks offered.
Croach considered. "I will work Monday mornings as well," he said. "I understand that human beings are not fond of that portion of the week, so taking on that burden will help decrease my onus faster."
"Sure, sure," Sparks said. "If it makes you happy."
Croach just looked at him.
*
Red took her time, but she always did. Sparks took the opportunity to start cleaning out his desk. When she came in, he motioned her to the chair in front of it. She sat comfortably.
"What's all this about, Nevada?" she asked.
"I know the USSA is going to ask me for a recommendation for a new marshal," Sparks said, watching her expression as carefully as he watched a person drawing a gun. "I'd like to recommend you, Red. Can't think of a better replacement."
She was surprised at that, but the expression fluttered across her face and was gone. She smiled instead, a slow, satisfied grin.
"About time you recognized it, too," Red said. "I didn't want it, last time you offered--"
("To be my deputy," Sparks mumbled, "not the same thing--")
"But I reckon it could be a nice change, being on the official side of the law. I've embraced my Martian side, and now I might try embracing the human one for a bit. Settle into it, like."
"You, settling?" he said, trying to lighten up the mood. Here at least was a cheery discussion, something to celebrate.
"I know, I know," Red said, "but I have a good deputy in mind, he can help out when I feel the need to wander. Don't worry, Sparks. Mars will be in good hands."
"I'm not worried," Sparks said, fiddling with a little Mars rock he'd been using as a paperweight.
"When are you leaving?" she asked softly.
"Huh?" he said, not looking up from the rock. He was scratching his initials into the side. "I'm not going anywhere yet. I'm thinking of opening a hardware store."
"What?"
She rose from her seat and leaned forward over the desk in an attempt to get his attention. He didn't look up.
"You know, one of the other me's ran a hardware store, he seemed pretty chill. I'm owed some time off anyway, worse things to do on a break," he said. He could feel her eyes burning into his head, and then she straightened abruptly and strode to the door.
"I know you ain't asked my advice, Nevada, but I can think of fifteen better things you could be doing besides-- besides playing shopkeeper! And I know you can too."
"Maybe I don't want to be doing those things right now," he shot back.
"Well, you can take it from me, Sparks: riding a circular trail don't get you anywhere but the same place with a tired horse."
She was gone before he could reply, and he mumbled something about the metaphor to himself instead.
*
Friday was Sparks’s first full day managing the hardware store by himself. He thought he did a decent job. The place was small, but Arnie was incredibly organized, and everything was neatly labeled. Thursday, he’d mostly just sat around and listened to Arnie talk about what he wanted to do with his retirement. Croach had offered a number of suggestions.
Felton had come in early Friday to buy some space nails to repair his hypercattle fence. He’d been surprised to see Sparks sitting behind the counter, but Sparks explained that there wouldn’t be any gap in the marshal service, so Felton calmed down.
"Barkeep said you were going to be marshal of Earth," Felton said, looking up at Sparks under his hat.
"It's on the table," Sparks said, kind of irritated that the whole town knew his business, but also not surprised.
"It's on the table and you ain't left yet?" Felton asked.
Sparks opened his mouth to go through the whole spiel that he'd given to Red, and then he sighed. "Not yet," he said. "That'll be 2.99, Felton."
Felton paid him. Sparks made change and bagged the nails. After a moment's conversation about the weather, Felton left.
"This is going to be great," Sparks said to the empty shop.
*
It was, most of the time. Seriously. He got up at the same time every morning and went to bed at the same time every night. In-between, he sold hammers and rope, mixed paint, did inventory, and all of the other things that were necessary while running a hardware store. The he went home and spent time with Ginny, or if she was off-planet, he made birdhouses or read novels. No one pulled a gun on him. No one asked him to save the planet, no one asked him to do anything besides simple, easy things. He made enough to pay the rent on his room and on the store.
He enjoyed it. He was almost terrified by how much he enjoyed it. His stress melted away, he had long and involved conversations about the merits of primer before paint. There was paperwork, and Red did a bang-up job of keeping the planet safe. He couldn't even be too bothered when Croach openly consented to be her deputy.
He didn't call his mother, or anyone else in the USSA. He ignored the messages on his comm device. If they really wanted him for marshal, they could wait until he was ready.
He had a good thing going, he wasn't going to mess it up.
*
Sparks slept well, he slept really well, but he dreamed some nights of riding the plains, of the familiar comfortable weight of his robot fists, of metal corridors and white clouds and wanting everything to be perfect, and everything not to change. And of horses. (He didn't understand why his mind was so full of horses.) He figured that was pretty normal, though -- everyone had little regrets in their lives, after all, didn't they? He could live with it.
When the phone rang in the hardware store, he took McKinnon's order and promised to deliver it to the saloon. It'd be good to have a walk midday. Maybe he and Ginny could have lunch after she met her new partner.
As he walked down the street, he began to whistle.