Ficathon Entry!!!
Title: Wise Men Say…
Author: deadpoetwoffie
Rating: PG
Spoilers: none
AN: the title comes from the Elvis song “Can’t Help Falling In Love With You.” I’m kind of in a lovey, gooey mood, so yeah….. (I hope this doesn’t suck)
She was a fool. She had been brought up in a meticulous house that seemed to exemplify order and propriety and here she was, seemingly throwing away her upbringing for some man. This man, from some meaningless, backwater planet appeared to be chaos and mayhem incarnate. He showed complete disregard for the rules of society and etiquette. He lived by the gun, killing whoever was in his way, whenever he deemed it necessary. He was in no way the man that she should be traipsing around after in the dead of night on some rickety boat that stayed in the air only out of spite for the universe through which if flew. Yet here she was, a fool, following the sounds of his boots walking up the stairs to the catwalk.
“Mal,” she said, not really sure of what to say.
He was a fool. A complete, ruttin’ fool. He had been born and raised on the rim, far away from the fineries offered elsewhere in the ‘verse and yet here he was, forsaking his lowly birth and reaching for some woman he could never have and shouldn’t want in the first place. This woman, from some high-falutin’, fancy-pants core planet embodied everything that was not him. She was fine silk where he was dusty denim. She lived by the rules of her class, while he, more often than not, completely disregarded the rules unless they would actually play in his favor. Yet here he was, a fool, listening intently to the sound of her soft foot steps behind him.
“Inara,” he said, not at all sure of what to say.
She couldn’t help it. There was no use denying the effect this man had on her. She was amazed by his honesty. He stood up for his cause, whatever that maybe, with complete conviction. He refused to dance around with formalities just to keep someone from being uncomfortable. The fervor with which he protected his crew would be envied by even the most ardent activist. She had seen him kill with his own gun, his own hands yet she knew without a doubt that he was a good man. Her contemporaries at the training house would beg to differ but they had never seen the fire in this man’s eyes. She prided herself on being a strong, independent woman, but she longed for the chance to have his eyes emblazoned with the passion to protect her as he did his crew, to love her as he did this ship, to love her as she loved him.
“It’s late,” she said, reaching out to loop her arm through his.
He couldn’t help it. Some part of him was yellin’ and carryin’ on about how she represented that which took everything away from him. That little voice was sayin’ all sorts of things about why he should just ignore her, but lately that voice seemed to be getting quieter and quieter. She was beautiful. And not just because of her profession. He had seen her scared, confused, hurting. He had seen her when all of her training had flown right out the airlock and she was beautiful. She was a good woman. She was full of love, the real, unable-to-purchase kind. He had seen it every time she looked at Kaylee, every time she had held River when Simon wasn’t there. He silently hoped he would see it when she looked at him, the way he was filled with it every time he looked at her.
“Yeah it is,” he said, draping his arm around her and pulling her close. “But better late than never.”