"Beginner's Waltz." Rated: PG-13.
Title: Beginner's Waltz
Character(s)/Pairing: River/Jayne, pre-Rayne
Written For: iulieki for Fic-Fest at whedonland
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1170
Disclaimer: Not mine!
-Author Notes: Wow, this was fun to write. Hee. And, yes, I've inserted a box step into the story, that's where the title comes from. I hope it comes through all right. Enjoy!
Beginner's Waltz
He is the first to reach out. She never asked for him to come, never expected it. But one day when she is crying, hidden, curled up in a ball in a dark, secret corner, he hears a whimper and he seeks her out. He looms over her, angry and imposing, stepping out with his left foot and nudging her dirty knee with the steel toe of his boot. Instinctively, she draws back.
“They don’t understand,” she laughs, tears running in little rivers down her wan, sunken cheeks. “They all hear, and they all see - but they don’t pick up any of the pieces.”
He sneers and he says, in his thick, accented tone, “An’ what makes you think I care?”
She wants to run away but he does not allow it, instead grabbing her right arm and hauling her up, leaving her stumbling towards him as he takes her to the infirmary.
“Now calm the hell down,” he tells her, gruffly. “Take whatever drugs you want. I’m sendin’ your brother in here in five.” With one last roll of his ocean blue eyes, he stalks angrily away. She sniffs and takes two small white pills. After a moment, she finds that though her thoughts are still turbulent and she is still not sure if they are hers, her mind is starting to settle into its familiar patterns.
She does not thank him.
~~~
She and Simon had a fight, with more yelling than she is accustomed to, and she chooses to take her anger out on a paper target, the facsimile of a man.
“Moonbrain!” There is a black cloud of anger above the voice and in a few seconds a large, furious merc comes stomping out of the ship looking for his pilfered gun.
She shoots the target right where his genitals would be. “What?”
He growls. “You took my ruttin’ gun. Gorramit, girl, I don’t want your crazy germs all over my good weapons - how many times I got to tell you don’t put your damn hands on none o’ my stuff?”
“Had a fight,” she tells him through gritted teeth, firing off two shots and then reloading. “Needed safe release. She is not allowed to own guns, so she had to find one.”
“Well next time, you little bitch, it better not be my guns you’re findin’.”
She shoots again, and this time it is not Simon’s face she sees.
He sighs raggedly, disrupting her focus, and viciously she whirls around to face him. “What?”
“Y’ain’t even aimin’ right. You took Lu, an’ she’s got a tendency to go off a little. Move.”
She stares at him incredulously until finally he rolls his eyes and moves to stand in front of her.
“Like this,” he says deliberately, putting big, rough hands on her thin, smooth shoulders. He moves her about a step to his right.
She claws at his hands, pulling them off her shoulders. “Do not need advice!” she tells him shrilly, already livid and not prepared to deal with him. “Leave me alone.”
For a long moment he stares at her, his eyes hard. “Fine,” he says, stepping away. “But if I ain’t got my gun back in one hour, I’m stealin’ that bar o’ chocolate you think you got hidden in the infirmary drawer with the sticky bandages.”
She only growls and says something under her breath in quick, obscene Mandarin.
~~~
He made it a point never to get hung up on a woman. That only led to trouble and it was easier just to enjoy the moment and save any women that might come later for later. He never got involved, he didn’t do relationships, and there was never a prettier woman in his eyes than a pretty, available whore.
He sees a girl he likes immediately, and he fishes in his pockets for all his coin, giving it to the plump, heavily made-up madam. She leads him and the blushing girl to an empty bedroom and after shooting him a significant smile, she shuts the door and locks it.
The girl makes small talk, acting coy and asking what sorts of things he likes, and what a big, strong man is doing on a tiny little planet like hers. He answers, just to play along, but he did not pay for conversation. Finally she smirks and sits on the big bed. She unpins her hair and it falls down her shoulders, a thick, stringy curtain of brown. Her eyes are brown, too, and she’s got a slender build. He crawls up beside her and takes off his shirt, one hand spread wide across her narrow waist. She strokes his short hair and lets him take off her clothes.
He is nipping a trail down her body, starting at her neck and working his way down, between her full breasts, to her pale, taut tummy. She spreads her legs into near splits when he gets to her navel and she makes a small, high-pitched whine of pleasure.
“Gorram, girl sounds just like the moonbrain.”
And that stops him, dead in his tracks.
He gets up quickly, stumbling backwards until his right foot hits the old, wooden chair set against the wall.
“What’s wrong, honey?” she asks, sitting up, her brow wrinkled in confusion.
He blinks, rubbing his eyes, praying the resemblance he sees is only in his head. “Uh… nothin’,” he replies. “Sorry. I got to go.” And grabbing his shirt, he speeds out of the room, cursing beautiful, brown-haired girls who were partially out of their minds.
***
It takes him a long time to work up the courage to walk into the ship, but when he finally does, he heads straight to the bridge.
To her.
“You are back early,” she says from her perch in the pilot’s chair, flipping through what looks like some sort of manual. She licks her fingers and turns a page. “Have good sex?”
“Uh…” He scratches the back of his head, suddenly not sure what to say to her. “Yeah. Found a real nice girl - was damn fine-lookin’ an’ everything. We, uh… We was sexin’ it up real good. Yeah. For awhile.”
She raises an eyebrow and looks up from her book. “Any further detail is very unnecessary.”
He shrugs. “If’n you say so.”
With a quick look of satisfaction she returns to her reading, and he stands there awkwardly, thinking that really he needed to just go down to his bunk.
He doesn’t.
“So, crazy, what’re you readin’? It ain’t somethin’ tellin’ you how to be normal, is it? ‘Cause you sure as hell could use that.”
She scowls and he lets out a bark of laughter at his own perceived cleverness. But she answers his question, when previously she would have just ignored him.
He takes another step towards her so they can keep talking, leaving his left leg deliberately close to the little feet she has dangling above the floor.
It is small, but it is the first step in their new dance.
~~~
Thanks for reading; feedback is always appreciated!
Character(s)/Pairing: River/Jayne, pre-Rayne
Written For: iulieki for Fic-Fest at whedonland
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1170
Disclaimer: Not mine!
-Author Notes: Wow, this was fun to write. Hee. And, yes, I've inserted a box step into the story, that's where the title comes from. I hope it comes through all right. Enjoy!
Beginner's Waltz
He is the first to reach out. She never asked for him to come, never expected it. But one day when she is crying, hidden, curled up in a ball in a dark, secret corner, he hears a whimper and he seeks her out. He looms over her, angry and imposing, stepping out with his left foot and nudging her dirty knee with the steel toe of his boot. Instinctively, she draws back.
“They don’t understand,” she laughs, tears running in little rivers down her wan, sunken cheeks. “They all hear, and they all see - but they don’t pick up any of the pieces.”
He sneers and he says, in his thick, accented tone, “An’ what makes you think I care?”
She wants to run away but he does not allow it, instead grabbing her right arm and hauling her up, leaving her stumbling towards him as he takes her to the infirmary.
“Now calm the hell down,” he tells her, gruffly. “Take whatever drugs you want. I’m sendin’ your brother in here in five.” With one last roll of his ocean blue eyes, he stalks angrily away. She sniffs and takes two small white pills. After a moment, she finds that though her thoughts are still turbulent and she is still not sure if they are hers, her mind is starting to settle into its familiar patterns.
She does not thank him.
~~~
She and Simon had a fight, with more yelling than she is accustomed to, and she chooses to take her anger out on a paper target, the facsimile of a man.
“Moonbrain!” There is a black cloud of anger above the voice and in a few seconds a large, furious merc comes stomping out of the ship looking for his pilfered gun.
She shoots the target right where his genitals would be. “What?”
He growls. “You took my ruttin’ gun. Gorramit, girl, I don’t want your crazy germs all over my good weapons - how many times I got to tell you don’t put your damn hands on none o’ my stuff?”
“Had a fight,” she tells him through gritted teeth, firing off two shots and then reloading. “Needed safe release. She is not allowed to own guns, so she had to find one.”
“Well next time, you little bitch, it better not be my guns you’re findin’.”
She shoots again, and this time it is not Simon’s face she sees.
He sighs raggedly, disrupting her focus, and viciously she whirls around to face him. “What?”
“Y’ain’t even aimin’ right. You took Lu, an’ she’s got a tendency to go off a little. Move.”
She stares at him incredulously until finally he rolls his eyes and moves to stand in front of her.
“Like this,” he says deliberately, putting big, rough hands on her thin, smooth shoulders. He moves her about a step to his right.
She claws at his hands, pulling them off her shoulders. “Do not need advice!” she tells him shrilly, already livid and not prepared to deal with him. “Leave me alone.”
For a long moment he stares at her, his eyes hard. “Fine,” he says, stepping away. “But if I ain’t got my gun back in one hour, I’m stealin’ that bar o’ chocolate you think you got hidden in the infirmary drawer with the sticky bandages.”
She only growls and says something under her breath in quick, obscene Mandarin.
~~~
He made it a point never to get hung up on a woman. That only led to trouble and it was easier just to enjoy the moment and save any women that might come later for later. He never got involved, he didn’t do relationships, and there was never a prettier woman in his eyes than a pretty, available whore.
He sees a girl he likes immediately, and he fishes in his pockets for all his coin, giving it to the plump, heavily made-up madam. She leads him and the blushing girl to an empty bedroom and after shooting him a significant smile, she shuts the door and locks it.
The girl makes small talk, acting coy and asking what sorts of things he likes, and what a big, strong man is doing on a tiny little planet like hers. He answers, just to play along, but he did not pay for conversation. Finally she smirks and sits on the big bed. She unpins her hair and it falls down her shoulders, a thick, stringy curtain of brown. Her eyes are brown, too, and she’s got a slender build. He crawls up beside her and takes off his shirt, one hand spread wide across her narrow waist. She strokes his short hair and lets him take off her clothes.
He is nipping a trail down her body, starting at her neck and working his way down, between her full breasts, to her pale, taut tummy. She spreads her legs into near splits when he gets to her navel and she makes a small, high-pitched whine of pleasure.
“Gorram, girl sounds just like the moonbrain.”
And that stops him, dead in his tracks.
He gets up quickly, stumbling backwards until his right foot hits the old, wooden chair set against the wall.
“What’s wrong, honey?” she asks, sitting up, her brow wrinkled in confusion.
He blinks, rubbing his eyes, praying the resemblance he sees is only in his head. “Uh… nothin’,” he replies. “Sorry. I got to go.” And grabbing his shirt, he speeds out of the room, cursing beautiful, brown-haired girls who were partially out of their minds.
***
It takes him a long time to work up the courage to walk into the ship, but when he finally does, he heads straight to the bridge.
To her.
“You are back early,” she says from her perch in the pilot’s chair, flipping through what looks like some sort of manual. She licks her fingers and turns a page. “Have good sex?”
“Uh…” He scratches the back of his head, suddenly not sure what to say to her. “Yeah. Found a real nice girl - was damn fine-lookin’ an’ everything. We, uh… We was sexin’ it up real good. Yeah. For awhile.”
She raises an eyebrow and looks up from her book. “Any further detail is very unnecessary.”
He shrugs. “If’n you say so.”
With a quick look of satisfaction she returns to her reading, and he stands there awkwardly, thinking that really he needed to just go down to his bunk.
He doesn’t.
“So, crazy, what’re you readin’? It ain’t somethin’ tellin’ you how to be normal, is it? ‘Cause you sure as hell could use that.”
She scowls and he lets out a bark of laughter at his own perceived cleverness. But she answers his question, when previously she would have just ignored him.
He takes another step towards her so they can keep talking, leaving his left leg deliberately close to the little feet she has dangling above the floor.
It is small, but it is the first step in their new dance.
~~~
Thanks for reading; feedback is always appreciated!