Firefly fanfic! You've been warned.
Title: Anything You Can Do
Author:
electricdesire (Sage Darkwoods)
Fandom/Pairing: Firefly; Mal/Inara
Rating: PG, PG-13, currently; later on R
Word Count: 690 for The Prologue
Genre: action/adventure, romance
Spoilers: set after “Serenity” the movie
Comments: This is the first part of probably four parts. Written for the Harlequin challenge for the LiveJournal community
summersteam challenge.
The Prologue
"Inara, we got ourselves a situation here." The crackle of static could be heard through the radio, as well as the unmistakable sound of gunfire.
"Ta ma de," she swore, and turned a sweet smile to her client. He leaned up on his elbows, looking quizzical. She smoothed his mussed hair in what she hoped was a reassuring way, and tried not to think of what went wrong this time.
The job had gone south, as most tend to do around here as of late. After Miranda, the crew was more cautious, yet oddly a bit more reckless about where the jobs came from. Anything to shake the Alliance's foundations.
Another job like this, they'd be sure to be on the Alliance's radar, and were sure to be humped.
Gorramit, she was starting to sound like him. Her word choices were less sophisticated, her speech less cultured.
He got under her skin, and it irked her. Still, there was a small part of her that didn't mind, and she could think of other ways he could get under her skin. Hot, steamy ways --
That way lies madness, she scolded herself, and shook her head slightly. She looked at the client beside her, confusion still as evident as the sweat still drying on his body. "I'll be right back, bao bei," she said softly, placing a kiss on his forehead. "Just a tiny little matter to clear up with my transport." She swung her feet off the bed and stood gracefully, pulling on the red sakura blossom kimono in the process. She tried not to run to the wave centre near the front of her shuttle, and pulled a small curtain across to at least give the illusion of privacy.
Clicking on the wave and clicking off the radio signal, Mal's already bruising face filled the screen. "What is so important that you called right now?" she hissed, trying to keep her voice low enough so her client wouldn't hear.
Mal's expression went from harried to amusement in three seconds flat. "Did I catch you... entertaining, Ambassador?"
"You damn well know you did; it's the reason we're here on this zheng qi de go se dui of a planet," she continued in low tones. "What happened?"
His expression mustered up something that resembled seriousness. "It was going well. Had the cargo, no problems. Went for a drink - ”
“Oh, Mal, you didn’t,” she interjected.
“How was I to know it was an Alliance bar?” he said, holding up his hands in innocent protest.
“Because it’s you and you can always find a way to make someone want to punch you.” Her tone was less angry and more resigned. It was becoming nearly a habit with Captain Mal Reynolds, former lieutenant for the Independents in the war against the Alliance. He still wore his old browncoat, still wore his hairshirt like it was a part of him that would ache if he were to give it up in any way. The recent events with the failed Alliance-settled planet Miranda had only made his resentment to the Alliance deepen. After the crew of Serenity managed to get the signal out across the Cortex, every planet across the way knew that the failed terraforming of Miranda, and the government’s attempt to control the population, ended in the deaths of ninety percent. The other ten percent became savage and rage-filled beasts of former humans - Reavers - who plagued the skies of the Rim planets and beyond, cannibalising and terrorising anyone fool enough not to run away fast enough.
“So, uh, I’d appreciate it if you made a speedy return to the ship, without your client, and, ah...” He made a vague gesture with his hand in front of him, and turned a bit pink. “Ya might wanna get a sash for that robe.”
She looked down; the robe had opened to reveal an expanse of skin reaching to her navel, the edges of her breasts visible. She clamped it closed with one hand. “You’re such a child,” she said in clipped tones, and the last thing she saw before she terminated the wave was Mal’s smirk.
Author:
electricdesire (Sage Darkwoods)
Fandom/Pairing: Firefly; Mal/Inara
Rating: PG, PG-13, currently; later on R
Word Count: 690 for The Prologue
Genre: action/adventure, romance
Spoilers: set after “Serenity” the movie
Comments: This is the first part of probably four parts. Written for the Harlequin challenge for the LiveJournal community
summersteam challenge.
The Prologue
"Inara, we got ourselves a situation here." The crackle of static could be heard through the radio, as well as the unmistakable sound of gunfire.
"Ta ma de," she swore, and turned a sweet smile to her client. He leaned up on his elbows, looking quizzical. She smoothed his mussed hair in what she hoped was a reassuring way, and tried not to think of what went wrong this time.
The job had gone south, as most tend to do around here as of late. After Miranda, the crew was more cautious, yet oddly a bit more reckless about where the jobs came from. Anything to shake the Alliance's foundations.
Another job like this, they'd be sure to be on the Alliance's radar, and were sure to be humped.
Gorramit, she was starting to sound like him. Her word choices were less sophisticated, her speech less cultured.
He got under her skin, and it irked her. Still, there was a small part of her that didn't mind, and she could think of other ways he could get under her skin. Hot, steamy ways --
That way lies madness, she scolded herself, and shook her head slightly. She looked at the client beside her, confusion still as evident as the sweat still drying on his body. "I'll be right back, bao bei," she said softly, placing a kiss on his forehead. "Just a tiny little matter to clear up with my transport." She swung her feet off the bed and stood gracefully, pulling on the red sakura blossom kimono in the process. She tried not to run to the wave centre near the front of her shuttle, and pulled a small curtain across to at least give the illusion of privacy.
Clicking on the wave and clicking off the radio signal, Mal's already bruising face filled the screen. "What is so important that you called right now?" she hissed, trying to keep her voice low enough so her client wouldn't hear.
Mal's expression went from harried to amusement in three seconds flat. "Did I catch you... entertaining, Ambassador?"
"You damn well know you did; it's the reason we're here on this zheng qi de go se dui of a planet," she continued in low tones. "What happened?"
His expression mustered up something that resembled seriousness. "It was going well. Had the cargo, no problems. Went for a drink - ”
“Oh, Mal, you didn’t,” she interjected.
“How was I to know it was an Alliance bar?” he said, holding up his hands in innocent protest.
“Because it’s you and you can always find a way to make someone want to punch you.” Her tone was less angry and more resigned. It was becoming nearly a habit with Captain Mal Reynolds, former lieutenant for the Independents in the war against the Alliance. He still wore his old browncoat, still wore his hairshirt like it was a part of him that would ache if he were to give it up in any way. The recent events with the failed Alliance-settled planet Miranda had only made his resentment to the Alliance deepen. After the crew of Serenity managed to get the signal out across the Cortex, every planet across the way knew that the failed terraforming of Miranda, and the government’s attempt to control the population, ended in the deaths of ninety percent. The other ten percent became savage and rage-filled beasts of former humans - Reavers - who plagued the skies of the Rim planets and beyond, cannibalising and terrorising anyone fool enough not to run away fast enough.
“So, uh, I’d appreciate it if you made a speedy return to the ship, without your client, and, ah...” He made a vague gesture with his hand in front of him, and turned a bit pink. “Ya might wanna get a sash for that robe.”
She looked down; the robe had opened to reveal an expanse of skin reaching to her navel, the edges of her breasts visible. She clamped it closed with one hand. “You’re such a child,” she said in clipped tones, and the last thing she saw before she terminated the wave was Mal’s smirk.