(Firefly, Wash/Zoe) Wife Soup (The Best Served Hot Remix)
Title: Wife Soup (The Best Served Hot Remix)
Author: vnilla
Fandom: Firefly
Pairing: Wash/Zoe
Rating: G
Word Count: 2061
Summary: Bartering for the ingredients of wife soup isn't easy, but Zoe does fine.
Author's Notes: A remix of Pó po by Zooey_Glass. The recipe for wife soup is from FireflyWiki.org
1. 3 or 4 (or more) big potatoes. Peel if you like.
There's no bad blood between Zoe and Louisa Washburne, but there's enough bad feeling that Mal decides the crew best be moving on early, before he has to bail his first mate out of jail for assault. Zoe approves of the plan, but that doesn't stop her from making one more sally into the heart of the problem: the kitchen.
It's a bright room despite the faded sunflower wallpaper, most everything painted red for luck. The spice rack holds the place of honor on the biggest wall--the Washburne treasures are all in the kitchen. The whole place gets cleaned three times a day, right after the last pair of chopsticks is set down. As the sign above the sink proclaims: "I cook, you wash." Every time Wash takes note of the sign, he makes the same joke to his mother about thinking his real name was Wash, he heard her say it so often growing up.
Just about the only thing in this room that doesn't say home is the skeptical expression on Louisa's face.
"You're going to cook these potatoes," she says, making "cook" sound like a euphemism for "maim."
"Yes, ma'am," Zoe says, words clipped. She resists explaining for the tenth time that the charred bread never would have happened if Louisa had just explained how to use her piece of go se stove. "Got to stock up the ingredients for a special occasion."
"Well." There are about a dozen innuendos in that one word, each more insulting than the last. Louisa gives a delicate shrug of her shoulders and hands over the bag. "I suppose if it's to feed my son."
"You're too kind," Zoe manages, and swings the bag of potatoes over her shoulder to keep her hands occupied. "Best be off."
*
2, 3, 4, 5. Some carrots, as many garlic cloves as you like, a few bay leaves, and some frozen peas.
"But how will I get the best bargains without my adorable wife to menace salesmen?" Wash protests, clasping her hand in dramatic fashion. "Think of the money I won't be saving."
Zoe nods in Kaylee's direction. "New girl's got a good head for parts. She won't pay more than something's worth, least when it comes to machines." Mal's already had a few words with Kaylee about buying fripperies. Zoe kisses Wash's cheek. "Besides, I've got errands of my own to run."
The Eavesdown docks ain't Zoe's favorite place by any stretch of the imagination, but you can find just about every good under the sun here, provided you're not looking for anything wasn't stolen, third-hand, or real quality gear. She ignores the cries of merchants selling their wares. The place where she's headed doesn't need to advertise.
"Morning, Xue," Zoe says, brushing the beads in the doorway aside. Xue is engrossed in his usual novel. Why he insists on paper-bound books when electronic is so much cheaper is beyond her, but she likes the old man, quirks and all.
"The usual?" Xue asks, handing her a bag as he lifts the cloth draped over the table at the same time. What vegetables and things Xue sells don't look like much, but they taste like they've come straight out of the Core. Zoe is weighing a carrot in her hand when Xue adds, "Perhaps you might consider branching out."
"Just got one dish in me," is her reply. The cloves smell wonderful.
"That's a mighty unusual circumstance."
Zoe casts a sharp look at him, but he only smiles and goes back to reading, waiting for her to finish with her selection. His words bring to mind the sting of just a few days ago, with Wash's mother telling her son that they needn't stop by for a particular festival. It spurred her to get along with collecting soup ingredients. But she knows the old man doesn't mean harm by his words--he's just looking to sell more of his stock.
After Zoe pays Xue, he lays a hand over hers, gentle as one of those fancy birds Kaylee wants for a pet. "May your dinner be excellent."
She's touched in spite of herself.
*
6, 7. About 1/2 c. of elbow macaroni, Monterey Jack cheese.
"Hands off, Jayne."
Jayne throws his hands up in protest, letting the box of noodles fall to the ground. "First you tell me to get cracking on dinner, now you don't want me touching food."
"I don't want you touching food that ain't communal," Zoe replies, fingers twitching as though against a trigger. It's a temper tell she's never quite been able to rid herself of, but it's subtle enough that not many ever pick up on it. Mal and Wash do, but they're accustomed to her mannerisms, and Inara's native language is body language, which can get downright uncanny. But Jayne isn't known for his sensitivity.
By now Jayne has set to work dumping things from cans into a big pot, muttering to himself. Before Zoe can bend down to retrieve the box of noodles, he kicks it over in her direction. She's replacing it in her section of the food cabinet when Jayne clears his throat for the third time in so many minutes. She turns around.
"You say something?"
"Well, you know I steal." Zoe nods, unperturbed. Jayne has moved on to the spices portion of the meal, tossing in a little of everything. He never seems bothered eating what he makes, so Zoe is almost sure that he thinks it tastes good. Either that or Wash is right and it's all part of a master plan to never have to cook again. "I just don't steal when it's stupid. This here ain't a bad job, and you take good care of your guns."
Zoe gives another nod, this one slower, and with her eyebrows arched. "Is that what passes for friendly conversation in your line of work?"
"Not a whole lot of friends in my line of work."
"Can't imagine why."
It's at this juncture that Inara enters the kitchen. She's spangled like a star today, jewels on her gown and glitter dusted on her face. "Evening, Zoe," she says, breaking into a smile. Zoe likes the genuine grace Inara carries under the glamor, so she smiles back, in spite of the way she's always fighting with the captain. It's as much his fault as hers, anyway.
Inara turns the full force of that smile on Jayne. "No need to save any for me. I had a late lunch." Jayne just grunts in response. "Delightful. Zoe, I had the opportunity to pick up that parcel you asked for." When Inara hands over the package of cheese, the frilly little bag has the money she gave Inara as well. Before Zoe can protest, Inara holds up a hand. "Please. Let it be my part of the birthday gift." Her eyes sparkle, and all Zoe can do is chuckle ruefully. Somebody's figured her out.
Jayne asks, "Whose birthday?" right before the pot on the stove catches fire.
*
8, 9. A pound or so of beef or chicken, ground or otherwise, and two cans of broth (beef or chicken).
"This is our last chance to pull this off." Heads bob in agreement as Zoe walks up the line, hands folded behind her back. She ain't Mal for speech-making, but she's trained enough soldiers to know how to get her message across. "We won't get into what happened the last time we went planetside. We're going to go in there like we've done it a hundred times before, and we're going to come back with real chicken."
"Yes'm," Kaylee says, staring at the ground. Seeing her so unlike her usual self is almost enough to make Zoe feel guilty. Almost.
Simon leans over and whispers, "She won't kill us if we get the wrong thing again, will she?"
"This is why I'm coming to supervise the process," says Book.
"Insect pupae are excellent sources of protein" is River's contribution to the conversation.
Zoe can feel the headache building behind her eyes. She hates delegating, but she doesn't exactly have a choice in the matter: captain wants Jayne and her as back-up. Plus the whole crew has taken a shine to procuring Zoe the soup ingredients, which is sweet, if somewhat annoying. Few weeks ago, she was mighty annoyed at Inara for letting the secret slip, but Wash's birthday is fast approaching and they've all been too busy to do much shopping. They've got one shot.
"Dismissed," she says out of long-ago habit, and River actually pops off a cheery little salute.
Once they touch surface, the whole plan sets to spinning like a well-oiled machine. River wends her way over to Wash and begs him to please give her a flying lesson, because flying is like dancing only better. Simon makes the same big pleading eyes, Kaylee backing him up with a significant nod. Wash doesn't stand a chance.
Mal watches this exchange, arms folded, and then nods to Jayne once River has disappeared, Wash in tow. "You go with them. This drop-off ain't likely to get complicated."
"Which means one of us is going to get shot," Zoe observes, the corners of her mouth twitching. The crew has even managed to rope the captain in on the scheme, apparently.
Mal rubs the back of his neck, all embarrassed to be caught out being nice. "There's no logic in taking an extra gun to a friendly deal amongst friendly people," he says. "Come on, we best be off."
Zoe hides her laughter so she can fix the shopping group with her sternest I-am-your-superior-officer-and-don't-you-forget-it look, which is just as effective out of the army as it was in. Probably unnecessary, since only a damn fool would try to cheat them, between Book's knowledge of real food and Jayne scowling in the background, but Zoe wants them on their toes.
The planet they're on is small and dusty, like most of their drop-off locales. Zoe can't even remember the name of this one, but the woman they're dealing with goes by Elena, and she's fairly straight-dealing for a smuggler. For once, the job goes off without a hitch: Elena cracks open the crate, checks out the goods, then hands over the cash. Whole process is shorter than the walk over.
"Let's get back before River crashes my ship," Mal says, only half-joking.
She and Mal are back before the other group, which leaves Zoe plenty of time for pacing. The margin for error's been all used up. This is the last chance. She's generally not the drinking type, but she could sure use one now.
So it's with great relief that she views Kaylee bouncing into sight, shouting, "We got it, we got it!" She's dragging Simon behind her by the hand, which can't be comfortable, but he surely doesn't look unhappy about it. Book and Jayne follow close on their heels, Book with the bag of groceries, and Jayne with what appears to be an enormous lollipop. "For being menacing without actually being a menace," Book says by way of explanation.
Zoe looks around at all the shining faces and feels fit to burst. "Thank you," is all she can manage.
*
"I have got to start having birthdays more than once a year."
Zoe laughs and hits Wash with a pillow, letting out an undignified shout when he retaliates by tickling. They're curled up in bed after a wonderful day and an even better night. Once she's regained her breath, she rolls over and socks him on the arm--gently. "You'd let all the attention go to your head."
"Ow! I'm not sure. The entire crew watching me eat wife soup was a little creepy."
"They were just excited to have a part in your present."
"Which was delicious. Much like other things I could mention." Wash kisses her shoulder. "My offer to fly a sample to my mother still stands, by the way."
"Don't pretend like you wouldn't eat it halfway before we got there."
"You have a point." Wash wraps his arms around her, and Zoe settles into his embrace like a key into a lock. "You have a talent for soup and birthdays, after all."
"That I do, husband," Zoe murmurs, and closes her eyes.
Author: vnilla
Fandom: Firefly
Pairing: Wash/Zoe
Rating: G
Word Count: 2061
Summary: Bartering for the ingredients of wife soup isn't easy, but Zoe does fine.
Author's Notes: A remix of Pó po by Zooey_Glass. The recipe for wife soup is from FireflyWiki.org
1. 3 or 4 (or more) big potatoes. Peel if you like.
There's no bad blood between Zoe and Louisa Washburne, but there's enough bad feeling that Mal decides the crew best be moving on early, before he has to bail his first mate out of jail for assault. Zoe approves of the plan, but that doesn't stop her from making one more sally into the heart of the problem: the kitchen.
It's a bright room despite the faded sunflower wallpaper, most everything painted red for luck. The spice rack holds the place of honor on the biggest wall--the Washburne treasures are all in the kitchen. The whole place gets cleaned three times a day, right after the last pair of chopsticks is set down. As the sign above the sink proclaims: "I cook, you wash." Every time Wash takes note of the sign, he makes the same joke to his mother about thinking his real name was Wash, he heard her say it so often growing up.
Just about the only thing in this room that doesn't say home is the skeptical expression on Louisa's face.
"You're going to cook these potatoes," she says, making "cook" sound like a euphemism for "maim."
"Yes, ma'am," Zoe says, words clipped. She resists explaining for the tenth time that the charred bread never would have happened if Louisa had just explained how to use her piece of go se stove. "Got to stock up the ingredients for a special occasion."
"Well." There are about a dozen innuendos in that one word, each more insulting than the last. Louisa gives a delicate shrug of her shoulders and hands over the bag. "I suppose if it's to feed my son."
"You're too kind," Zoe manages, and swings the bag of potatoes over her shoulder to keep her hands occupied. "Best be off."
*
2, 3, 4, 5. Some carrots, as many garlic cloves as you like, a few bay leaves, and some frozen peas.
"But how will I get the best bargains without my adorable wife to menace salesmen?" Wash protests, clasping her hand in dramatic fashion. "Think of the money I won't be saving."
Zoe nods in Kaylee's direction. "New girl's got a good head for parts. She won't pay more than something's worth, least when it comes to machines." Mal's already had a few words with Kaylee about buying fripperies. Zoe kisses Wash's cheek. "Besides, I've got errands of my own to run."
The Eavesdown docks ain't Zoe's favorite place by any stretch of the imagination, but you can find just about every good under the sun here, provided you're not looking for anything wasn't stolen, third-hand, or real quality gear. She ignores the cries of merchants selling their wares. The place where she's headed doesn't need to advertise.
"Morning, Xue," Zoe says, brushing the beads in the doorway aside. Xue is engrossed in his usual novel. Why he insists on paper-bound books when electronic is so much cheaper is beyond her, but she likes the old man, quirks and all.
"The usual?" Xue asks, handing her a bag as he lifts the cloth draped over the table at the same time. What vegetables and things Xue sells don't look like much, but they taste like they've come straight out of the Core. Zoe is weighing a carrot in her hand when Xue adds, "Perhaps you might consider branching out."
"Just got one dish in me," is her reply. The cloves smell wonderful.
"That's a mighty unusual circumstance."
Zoe casts a sharp look at him, but he only smiles and goes back to reading, waiting for her to finish with her selection. His words bring to mind the sting of just a few days ago, with Wash's mother telling her son that they needn't stop by for a particular festival. It spurred her to get along with collecting soup ingredients. But she knows the old man doesn't mean harm by his words--he's just looking to sell more of his stock.
After Zoe pays Xue, he lays a hand over hers, gentle as one of those fancy birds Kaylee wants for a pet. "May your dinner be excellent."
She's touched in spite of herself.
*
6, 7. About 1/2 c. of elbow macaroni, Monterey Jack cheese.
"Hands off, Jayne."
Jayne throws his hands up in protest, letting the box of noodles fall to the ground. "First you tell me to get cracking on dinner, now you don't want me touching food."
"I don't want you touching food that ain't communal," Zoe replies, fingers twitching as though against a trigger. It's a temper tell she's never quite been able to rid herself of, but it's subtle enough that not many ever pick up on it. Mal and Wash do, but they're accustomed to her mannerisms, and Inara's native language is body language, which can get downright uncanny. But Jayne isn't known for his sensitivity.
By now Jayne has set to work dumping things from cans into a big pot, muttering to himself. Before Zoe can bend down to retrieve the box of noodles, he kicks it over in her direction. She's replacing it in her section of the food cabinet when Jayne clears his throat for the third time in so many minutes. She turns around.
"You say something?"
"Well, you know I steal." Zoe nods, unperturbed. Jayne has moved on to the spices portion of the meal, tossing in a little of everything. He never seems bothered eating what he makes, so Zoe is almost sure that he thinks it tastes good. Either that or Wash is right and it's all part of a master plan to never have to cook again. "I just don't steal when it's stupid. This here ain't a bad job, and you take good care of your guns."
Zoe gives another nod, this one slower, and with her eyebrows arched. "Is that what passes for friendly conversation in your line of work?"
"Not a whole lot of friends in my line of work."
"Can't imagine why."
It's at this juncture that Inara enters the kitchen. She's spangled like a star today, jewels on her gown and glitter dusted on her face. "Evening, Zoe," she says, breaking into a smile. Zoe likes the genuine grace Inara carries under the glamor, so she smiles back, in spite of the way she's always fighting with the captain. It's as much his fault as hers, anyway.
Inara turns the full force of that smile on Jayne. "No need to save any for me. I had a late lunch." Jayne just grunts in response. "Delightful. Zoe, I had the opportunity to pick up that parcel you asked for." When Inara hands over the package of cheese, the frilly little bag has the money she gave Inara as well. Before Zoe can protest, Inara holds up a hand. "Please. Let it be my part of the birthday gift." Her eyes sparkle, and all Zoe can do is chuckle ruefully. Somebody's figured her out.
Jayne asks, "Whose birthday?" right before the pot on the stove catches fire.
*
8, 9. A pound or so of beef or chicken, ground or otherwise, and two cans of broth (beef or chicken).
"This is our last chance to pull this off." Heads bob in agreement as Zoe walks up the line, hands folded behind her back. She ain't Mal for speech-making, but she's trained enough soldiers to know how to get her message across. "We won't get into what happened the last time we went planetside. We're going to go in there like we've done it a hundred times before, and we're going to come back with real chicken."
"Yes'm," Kaylee says, staring at the ground. Seeing her so unlike her usual self is almost enough to make Zoe feel guilty. Almost.
Simon leans over and whispers, "She won't kill us if we get the wrong thing again, will she?"
"This is why I'm coming to supervise the process," says Book.
"Insect pupae are excellent sources of protein" is River's contribution to the conversation.
Zoe can feel the headache building behind her eyes. She hates delegating, but she doesn't exactly have a choice in the matter: captain wants Jayne and her as back-up. Plus the whole crew has taken a shine to procuring Zoe the soup ingredients, which is sweet, if somewhat annoying. Few weeks ago, she was mighty annoyed at Inara for letting the secret slip, but Wash's birthday is fast approaching and they've all been too busy to do much shopping. They've got one shot.
"Dismissed," she says out of long-ago habit, and River actually pops off a cheery little salute.
Once they touch surface, the whole plan sets to spinning like a well-oiled machine. River wends her way over to Wash and begs him to please give her a flying lesson, because flying is like dancing only better. Simon makes the same big pleading eyes, Kaylee backing him up with a significant nod. Wash doesn't stand a chance.
Mal watches this exchange, arms folded, and then nods to Jayne once River has disappeared, Wash in tow. "You go with them. This drop-off ain't likely to get complicated."
"Which means one of us is going to get shot," Zoe observes, the corners of her mouth twitching. The crew has even managed to rope the captain in on the scheme, apparently.
Mal rubs the back of his neck, all embarrassed to be caught out being nice. "There's no logic in taking an extra gun to a friendly deal amongst friendly people," he says. "Come on, we best be off."
Zoe hides her laughter so she can fix the shopping group with her sternest I-am-your-superior-officer-and-don't-you-forget-it look, which is just as effective out of the army as it was in. Probably unnecessary, since only a damn fool would try to cheat them, between Book's knowledge of real food and Jayne scowling in the background, but Zoe wants them on their toes.
The planet they're on is small and dusty, like most of their drop-off locales. Zoe can't even remember the name of this one, but the woman they're dealing with goes by Elena, and she's fairly straight-dealing for a smuggler. For once, the job goes off without a hitch: Elena cracks open the crate, checks out the goods, then hands over the cash. Whole process is shorter than the walk over.
"Let's get back before River crashes my ship," Mal says, only half-joking.
She and Mal are back before the other group, which leaves Zoe plenty of time for pacing. The margin for error's been all used up. This is the last chance. She's generally not the drinking type, but she could sure use one now.
So it's with great relief that she views Kaylee bouncing into sight, shouting, "We got it, we got it!" She's dragging Simon behind her by the hand, which can't be comfortable, but he surely doesn't look unhappy about it. Book and Jayne follow close on their heels, Book with the bag of groceries, and Jayne with what appears to be an enormous lollipop. "For being menacing without actually being a menace," Book says by way of explanation.
Zoe looks around at all the shining faces and feels fit to burst. "Thank you," is all she can manage.
*
"I have got to start having birthdays more than once a year."
Zoe laughs and hits Wash with a pillow, letting out an undignified shout when he retaliates by tickling. They're curled up in bed after a wonderful day and an even better night. Once she's regained her breath, she rolls over and socks him on the arm--gently. "You'd let all the attention go to your head."
"Ow! I'm not sure. The entire crew watching me eat wife soup was a little creepy."
"They were just excited to have a part in your present."
"Which was delicious. Much like other things I could mention." Wash kisses her shoulder. "My offer to fly a sample to my mother still stands, by the way."
"Don't pretend like you wouldn't eat it halfway before we got there."
"You have a point." Wash wraps his arms around her, and Zoe settles into his embrace like a key into a lock. "You have a talent for soup and birthdays, after all."
"That I do, husband," Zoe murmurs, and closes her eyes.