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Jul. 6th, 2006 12:46 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wordslingingTitle: The Moment
Fandom: Firefly
Characters/Pairings: Zoe/Wash, Mal
Rating: PG
Summary: I think it's, like, some kind of a rite of passage in Firefly fandom to write a Zoe/Wash fic about The Mustache. This is mine.
Later on, Zoe would never be able to identify just when her impression of Wash had changed for the better. She could point to events that helped change it, of course, but mostly, it had just been a gradual thing.
Getting Serenity in the air had helped—Wash had proved to Mal and Zoe quickly enough that he knew what he was doing. And as a professional team, the three of them had just sort of clicked from the start. But beyond both of those things, there was the simple fact that, given enough time, Wash managed to endear himself to people, one way or another.
And then, there’d been the moustache.
From the start, Wash had made no secret of the fact that he liked her, and Zoe had made no secret of the fact that there were certain lines he could expect to be hurt if he crossed.
He flirted a lot. She didn’t flirt back, but never went out of her way to discourage him, either. And that, as it turned out, was all the encouragement Wash needed.
- - -
“So, you and Mal aren’t...?”
It was the first time he’d brought up her love life, despite willingness to discuss his own—or lack thereof. That left him on uncertain ground, but Zoe didn’t seem offended—she was too busy choking on her tea.
“Me an’ Mal? ” she echoed once she could talk again. “Lăotiān, bù, what’d give you that idea?”
Wash shrugged, grinning. Even at his own expense, making her laugh felt good. “Well, you two just seem like you’ve been together for a while.”
“We have.” Zoe explained, reaching for a dishtowel for the tea she’d spilled. “Been together since the war. But not together, dong ma?”
“Hăo.” Wash made as if to help her clean up; Zoe waved the towel at him, and he settled back down. “And you never even…?”
Zoe had risen and gone to the sink. Now she turned, quirking an eyebrow at him. “Never even what?”
“Never mind.” Wash raised both hands. “See? This is me backing away.”
“Damn right it is.” But her voice wasn’t without humor, and when she sat back down a moment later, Wash tried again, in a slightly different direction.
“So, is it just Mal, or have you got something against inter-crew relationships in general?”
Zoe shot him a look, but he was honing his skill at interpreting her looks, and this one didn’t mean he was in trouble. At least, he didn’t think so.
“I must’ve missed the part where my thoughts on relationships turned into something we talk about.”
“Hey, you had your chance to shoot me down earlier. C’mon, just hypothetically.”
“Hypothetically.”
Wash nodded. Zoe didn’t answer at first—she eyed him for a moment, then rose and started towards the door. When she was almost there, however, she half-turned, the barest hint of a smile on her face.
“Hypothetically, I’d say I ain’t opposed to the idea in general, but here I am on a boat with one guy who’s Mal an’ another who looks like some critter decided to crawl on his face and die. Tends to limit my options a bit.”
- - -
She hadn’t been trying to hint at anything, not really. For one thing, she hadn’t thought Wash would really take the comment to heart.
Which left her as surprised as Mal when Wash showed up at dinner that night with a conspicuous lack of moustache.
Mal, who was not so much aware of the torch his pilot was carrying for his first mate, just seemed bemused by what he termed Wash’s “sudden grooming alterations”. Wash himself seemed as serene as a monk in a rock garden, oblivious to what everyone was staring at him for. And Zoe just spent most of the meal resolutely not laughing. Or blushing, thank you very much.
And, later that night, Zoe headed for the bridge instead of her bunk. She had a feeling Wash would still be there.
- - -
“Alright, tell me you were plannin’ on doin’ that anyway.”
“’Fraid not.” Wash spun around in his chair, beaming at her clean-shavenly. “Nope, the passing of my mustache is solely on your conscience.”
Zoe approached the console, finding a space where she could half-lean, half-sit without disturbing anything. She was fighting against laughter.
“Well. Not sure what to say. I’ve never had a man shave his mustache off for me before.”
“Really? Pretty lady like you doesn’t get men lining up out the door to shave themselves for her?”
That did it. Zoe buried her face in one hand, doing her best to at least laugh quietly. Wash grinned, and went on.
“Tell you what—I’d shave my mustache off for you again in a heartbeat.” Pause. “Or, y’know, not a hearbeat, because I’d have to grow it back first...”
Zoe dropped her hand to look at him, shaking her head. “What am I gonna do with you?”
“I could think of a few things—“
She reached out to swat him on the arm, playfully. “So could I.”
Easy silence fell for a while, after that. Zoe settled back, not seeming inclined to leave her spot, and glanced out towards the stars. After a few moments, she realized Wash was doing the same.
“They’re somethin’, aren’t they?” Zoe’s voice, when she spoke again, was oddly hushed.
“Yeah.” Wash leaned back in his chair, the smile on his face gentler and more private than the goofy grin she was most familiar with. “I’ll never forget the first time I saw ‘em.”
“Out of atmo like this, you mean?”
“At all, actually.”
Zoe shot him a curious glance, and Wash nodded. “Couldn’t see a one of ‘em on the planet where I grew up. Pollution’s that thick.”
“Really? Can’t imagine somethin’ like that. Where I’m from—I imagine it’d be different in the cities, but out in the country, on a clear night, you could see ‘em almost as good as this.”
“Yeah?” Wash turned back towards her, curious. This was the most he’d ever heard her talk about her life before Serenity. He leaned forward again, watching her. “Did you grow up on a farm, or a ranch, or...?”
“Farm. Planet called Agrona.” There was a note of finality in Zoe’s voice as she finished, “Before the war.”
Wash was familiar enough with those three words to not press the subject. He just nodded, and silence fell again.
The two of them were still looking into each other’s eyes, and for the first time, Wash realized how close to him Zoe was. One of her arms was resting on the back of his chair; he reached up now and covered her hand with his.
Zoe’s gaze dropped to the side, but she didn’t pull away, and after another moment Wash tightened his grip and leaned forward.
His face was less than an inch away from hers when Zoe’s head came up, her gaze calm and level.
Matter-of-factly: “You’re not about to try an’ kiss me, are you?”
“...” For a moment, Was just sort of stared. Then, with an incoherent noise of frustration, he sank back in his chair. “Not now that you’ve spoiled the moment.”
Zoe’s eyebrows went up. “The moment?”
“The moment we were just having?”
When her only answer is to chuckle and shake her head, he went on. “Come on! Really, were we not just having a moment? The stars, the sharing of personal history, me with the lack of moustache?”
Zoe said nothing, just glanced at him, her expression hard to read.
She rose, withdrawing her hand from his—and then put her other hand on his shoulder, leaned in, and brushed a light kiss against the very corner of his mouth.
“’Night, Wash.” She tilted her head enough to murmur in his ear, and then withdrew.
For a moment, Wash just sat there, a look of astonishment slowly melting into a grin. Then, suddenly, he got to his feet.
“Zoe—“
He caught her at the door, and as she turned, he laid one hand on her upper arm and twined the other in her hair and leaned in and kissed her full on the mouth, thoroughly and for a long moment.
She didn’t kiss back. But she didn’t pull away either, and she could have, easily.
It was Wash who finally pulled back, trying to gauge her reaction. It wasn’t easy.
“You are aware I could kick your ass for that?” she finally asked.
“It’d be worth it.” Wash replied, just a bit breathlessly.
Another pause, and then Zoe drew back, turning again. Over her shoulder, “That’s really not a bad look for you, you know.”
And with that, she headed off, leaving a surprised but not exactly unhappy Wash on the bridge.
It wasn’t until she was out of his sight that Zoe let herself smile.
Fandom: Firefly
Characters/Pairings: Zoe/Wash, Mal
Rating: PG
Summary: I think it's, like, some kind of a rite of passage in Firefly fandom to write a Zoe/Wash fic about The Mustache. This is mine.
Later on, Zoe would never be able to identify just when her impression of Wash had changed for the better. She could point to events that helped change it, of course, but mostly, it had just been a gradual thing.
Getting Serenity in the air had helped—Wash had proved to Mal and Zoe quickly enough that he knew what he was doing. And as a professional team, the three of them had just sort of clicked from the start. But beyond both of those things, there was the simple fact that, given enough time, Wash managed to endear himself to people, one way or another.
And then, there’d been the moustache.
From the start, Wash had made no secret of the fact that he liked her, and Zoe had made no secret of the fact that there were certain lines he could expect to be hurt if he crossed.
He flirted a lot. She didn’t flirt back, but never went out of her way to discourage him, either. And that, as it turned out, was all the encouragement Wash needed.
- - -
“So, you and Mal aren’t...?”
It was the first time he’d brought up her love life, despite willingness to discuss his own—or lack thereof. That left him on uncertain ground, but Zoe didn’t seem offended—she was too busy choking on her tea.
“Me an’ Mal? ” she echoed once she could talk again. “Lăotiān, bù, what’d give you that idea?”
Wash shrugged, grinning. Even at his own expense, making her laugh felt good. “Well, you two just seem like you’ve been together for a while.”
“We have.” Zoe explained, reaching for a dishtowel for the tea she’d spilled. “Been together since the war. But not together, dong ma?”
“Hăo.” Wash made as if to help her clean up; Zoe waved the towel at him, and he settled back down. “And you never even…?”
Zoe had risen and gone to the sink. Now she turned, quirking an eyebrow at him. “Never even what?”
“Never mind.” Wash raised both hands. “See? This is me backing away.”
“Damn right it is.” But her voice wasn’t without humor, and when she sat back down a moment later, Wash tried again, in a slightly different direction.
“So, is it just Mal, or have you got something against inter-crew relationships in general?”
Zoe shot him a look, but he was honing his skill at interpreting her looks, and this one didn’t mean he was in trouble. At least, he didn’t think so.
“I must’ve missed the part where my thoughts on relationships turned into something we talk about.”
“Hey, you had your chance to shoot me down earlier. C’mon, just hypothetically.”
“Hypothetically.”
Wash nodded. Zoe didn’t answer at first—she eyed him for a moment, then rose and started towards the door. When she was almost there, however, she half-turned, the barest hint of a smile on her face.
“Hypothetically, I’d say I ain’t opposed to the idea in general, but here I am on a boat with one guy who’s Mal an’ another who looks like some critter decided to crawl on his face and die. Tends to limit my options a bit.”
- - -
She hadn’t been trying to hint at anything, not really. For one thing, she hadn’t thought Wash would really take the comment to heart.
Which left her as surprised as Mal when Wash showed up at dinner that night with a conspicuous lack of moustache.
Mal, who was not so much aware of the torch his pilot was carrying for his first mate, just seemed bemused by what he termed Wash’s “sudden grooming alterations”. Wash himself seemed as serene as a monk in a rock garden, oblivious to what everyone was staring at him for. And Zoe just spent most of the meal resolutely not laughing. Or blushing, thank you very much.
And, later that night, Zoe headed for the bridge instead of her bunk. She had a feeling Wash would still be there.
- - -
“Alright, tell me you were plannin’ on doin’ that anyway.”
“’Fraid not.” Wash spun around in his chair, beaming at her clean-shavenly. “Nope, the passing of my mustache is solely on your conscience.”
Zoe approached the console, finding a space where she could half-lean, half-sit without disturbing anything. She was fighting against laughter.
“Well. Not sure what to say. I’ve never had a man shave his mustache off for me before.”
“Really? Pretty lady like you doesn’t get men lining up out the door to shave themselves for her?”
That did it. Zoe buried her face in one hand, doing her best to at least laugh quietly. Wash grinned, and went on.
“Tell you what—I’d shave my mustache off for you again in a heartbeat.” Pause. “Or, y’know, not a hearbeat, because I’d have to grow it back first...”
Zoe dropped her hand to look at him, shaking her head. “What am I gonna do with you?”
“I could think of a few things—“
She reached out to swat him on the arm, playfully. “So could I.”
Easy silence fell for a while, after that. Zoe settled back, not seeming inclined to leave her spot, and glanced out towards the stars. After a few moments, she realized Wash was doing the same.
“They’re somethin’, aren’t they?” Zoe’s voice, when she spoke again, was oddly hushed.
“Yeah.” Wash leaned back in his chair, the smile on his face gentler and more private than the goofy grin she was most familiar with. “I’ll never forget the first time I saw ‘em.”
“Out of atmo like this, you mean?”
“At all, actually.”
Zoe shot him a curious glance, and Wash nodded. “Couldn’t see a one of ‘em on the planet where I grew up. Pollution’s that thick.”
“Really? Can’t imagine somethin’ like that. Where I’m from—I imagine it’d be different in the cities, but out in the country, on a clear night, you could see ‘em almost as good as this.”
“Yeah?” Wash turned back towards her, curious. This was the most he’d ever heard her talk about her life before Serenity. He leaned forward again, watching her. “Did you grow up on a farm, or a ranch, or...?”
“Farm. Planet called Agrona.” There was a note of finality in Zoe’s voice as she finished, “Before the war.”
Wash was familiar enough with those three words to not press the subject. He just nodded, and silence fell again.
The two of them were still looking into each other’s eyes, and for the first time, Wash realized how close to him Zoe was. One of her arms was resting on the back of his chair; he reached up now and covered her hand with his.
Zoe’s gaze dropped to the side, but she didn’t pull away, and after another moment Wash tightened his grip and leaned forward.
His face was less than an inch away from hers when Zoe’s head came up, her gaze calm and level.
Matter-of-factly: “You’re not about to try an’ kiss me, are you?”
“...” For a moment, Was just sort of stared. Then, with an incoherent noise of frustration, he sank back in his chair. “Not now that you’ve spoiled the moment.”
Zoe’s eyebrows went up. “The moment?”
“The moment we were just having?”
When her only answer is to chuckle and shake her head, he went on. “Come on! Really, were we not just having a moment? The stars, the sharing of personal history, me with the lack of moustache?”
Zoe said nothing, just glanced at him, her expression hard to read.
She rose, withdrawing her hand from his—and then put her other hand on his shoulder, leaned in, and brushed a light kiss against the very corner of his mouth.
“’Night, Wash.” She tilted her head enough to murmur in his ear, and then withdrew.
For a moment, Wash just sat there, a look of astonishment slowly melting into a grin. Then, suddenly, he got to his feet.
“Zoe—“
He caught her at the door, and as she turned, he laid one hand on her upper arm and twined the other in her hair and leaned in and kissed her full on the mouth, thoroughly and for a long moment.
She didn’t kiss back. But she didn’t pull away either, and she could have, easily.
It was Wash who finally pulled back, trying to gauge her reaction. It wasn’t easy.
“You are aware I could kick your ass for that?” she finally asked.
“It’d be worth it.” Wash replied, just a bit breathlessly.
Another pause, and then Zoe drew back, turning again. Over her shoulder, “That’s really not a bad look for you, you know.”
And with that, she headed off, leaving a surprised but not exactly unhappy Wash on the bridge.
It wasn’t until she was out of his sight that Zoe let herself smile.
