Final Gift for frodolyn
Hi, frodolyn! I'm jazzfic, your backup Santa. The sled suffered a slight prang and had to wait for a tow. Let's pretend it's not March!
Title: The Great Unpredictable
Rating: G
Pairing: Wash/Zoe
Words: 1,376
Summary: It had become a yearly battle of wills, seeing which of them could outdo the other on their anniversary.
The first inkling that something out of the ordinary was happening came to Zoe when they had a free afternoon while at landfall on Greenleaf, no payment to see delivered, no Alliance boats to dodge in some mad, fishtail game of hide and seek--and there she was, all ready to spend some quality time with her husband, and he'd gone. Disappeared off-ship and into town...with River. River, of all people. As much as this irritated Zoe, it was also oddly curious.
"Any idea where they went?" she asked Jayne, who'd been stacking crates in the cargo hold since that morning, and supposedly had a view of the comings and goings of the crew. Supposedly being the key word; almost at the very instant she spoke, Zoe knew, with that sinking feeling that always seemed to arrive at some point during any conversation with Jayne, that his answer would be of no help whatsoever.
"Hell do I know? I ain't no-one's keeper. Man oughta come and go as he wants, if you ask me."
She leveled an even glare at him, and the grin that had formed on his lips dropped like a wounded steer. "Which you didn't," he added quickly.
"A simple 'no' would've sufficed."
Jayne shrugged, and went back to work. Zoe left him to it and headed for the galley. The problem wasn't so much that Wash had disappeared, but that she was almost certain that she knew the reason why. It had become a yearly battle of wills, seeing which of them could outdo the other on their anniversary. Last year he'd placed a trail of goose feathers all around the ship, at the end of which Zoe had discovered a gosling, sitting in an impromptu nest on their bed. The poor creature took one look at Zoe and flapped away in high distress, and it had taken half a day to clean up the resulting mess. For weeks after, they kept finding small reminders about the ship--usually, and perhaps unfortunately, ending up on various parts of Mal's clothing. The amusement factor of that particular incident, it was fair to say, wore off pretty fast.
And now he'd escaped with their resident psychic. To do what, she could only guess. If nothing else, it certainly put an edge to her day, a feeling of not quite knowing what was coming.
In some ways, this was part of what had drawn them together in the first place. The great unpredictable, Wash liked to call it. She had to admit, he'd named it well.
--
And this was the core of it all--he was so good to her, Wash. So good. It felt more genuine than anything she'd ever known; but beginnings are always hard, and every time she'd tried to tell herself otherwise--that she wasn't ready for this, for him--he only had to look her in the eyes, and ask two little words.
Why not?
And then of course, there was Mal. You like him, don't you? Mal would say, as ever, blunt to the core. When he got wind of a notion, he was intolerable, insufferable.
And usually right.
Back then, Zoe's response was to ignore him, and she stuck doggedly to this means of whisper-thin denial for as long as she could, but eventually it became impossible to stray so far from the truth. It wasn't that she didn't want to settle down, or find a husband, or--lord forbid--fall head over bullet-grazed heels in love. It was simply that the notion on its own felt ridiculous, like a dream always one sudden blink from vanishing. What was she thinking, looking at this man and actually picturing a life growing old together, while she followed Mal out of one near escape only to leap into the fiery belly of another? It wasn't just ridiculous--it just wasn't, full stop.
So she'd look her captain in the eye, smile at the teasing grin that dared to show him wrong. 'Course not, Zoe would reply; at the same time thinking, Maybe I do.
--
"Say again? He's where?"
Mal's voice managed to jump several octaves in a few short syllables, but it wasn't until his eyes flickered sheepishly in Zoe's direction, that the warning bells began to trill with feverish intent.
"Wash?" she asked.
He waved her away. "Yeah...okay, okay. Guess I should say thanks. Give me half an hour. They can sit an' wait."
She squared herself before him, silently demanding an explanation. Mal's mouth was set in a hard line. "One quiet day," he muttered, switching off the comm-link. "All I wanted, a day of nothing and nobody makin' trouble about me. Is that too much to ask for? They'd better have a gorramn clever explanation, is all I can say."
"For what?"
"Two crooks in a jail house, Zoe. Two little crooks in the arms of the happy and ever hospitable law."
She stopped still. "He's been arrested?"
Mal patted at his holster, and eyed her over. Despite his complaints and apparent anger, he appeared to be trying very hard not to smirk. "Ain't it your anniversary, too? Well, that husband of your has an eye for the spectacular, I gotta hand him that."
--
It had all been River's idea. According to Wash, she'd had difficulty believing that the stones in the necklace were real, and wanted to test their validity by judging the spectrum of colour they made when taken into the light. Which involved smuggling the item out of the shop and several hundred yards away, where she claimed the sun was brightest.
"A necklace. Huh." Zoe looked at him. As a means of response, it was somewhere in the middle of throttling him for being so impressionable, and throwing her arms around his neck in pure, loving relief. She stuck her hands on her hips instead, prolonging the moment a little longer.
Wash was watching her, a slightly needy look in his eyes mixed in with the appropriate indignity. The latter was pretty much impossible to escape, seeing as Mal had launched at the unfortunate pair with all barrels blazing, and didn't look like letting up any time soon.
"So," the captain asked now, as they took the mule through one of the more inconspicuous parts of town. Mal was steering and had installed River beside him up front. "What have we learnt today?"
River eyed him steadily, goggles raised to sit at her forehead. "That man had mislabeled his goods, told lies through means of trade. It would have been bad business to accept the price."
"That's as maybe, darlin', but the way to deal with it ain't to run off with the goods under hem an' hand."
"Contradiction," River said, without pause. "You do it all the time."
"Mal?" Wash spoke up quickly before a new and unrelated argument could break out. "Would it help if I offered my own meek apology? Only our plan turned out somewhat different to what I'd intended. I mean, look at this woman..." He gestured to Zoe, who remained calm and without expression. "Just look at her. What husband could go year after year and not cause some major raucous or other come his day of wedded bliss."
"Quite right. And If I recall," Mal pointed out, above the roar of the engine, "the last particular raucous was some sort of bird. Which flew about my boat makin' more damn mess than Jayne let loose in the kitchen."
Wash brightened, seeing an opening. "Absolutely! What's a spot of mischief between allies?"
"Your point being?"
"Uh...life is too short?" This was said more in hope, and finally drew a smile from Zoe. She took Wash's hand, a small gesture that meant more than any convoluted explanation.
"Let me be the judge of that, honey."
The wind rose, whipping grains of sand into their eyes, masking words but not her relief. They drove on, back to Serenity.
--
Two days later, Zoe found a tissue-wrapped bundle on her pillow. She didn't ask any questions, only kissed her husband and murmured her thanks. They both knew he was already making plans to continue the unpredictable, and better the giving next year.
Title: The Great Unpredictable
Rating: G
Pairing: Wash/Zoe
Words: 1,376
Summary: It had become a yearly battle of wills, seeing which of them could outdo the other on their anniversary.
The first inkling that something out of the ordinary was happening came to Zoe when they had a free afternoon while at landfall on Greenleaf, no payment to see delivered, no Alliance boats to dodge in some mad, fishtail game of hide and seek--and there she was, all ready to spend some quality time with her husband, and he'd gone. Disappeared off-ship and into town...with River. River, of all people. As much as this irritated Zoe, it was also oddly curious.
"Any idea where they went?" she asked Jayne, who'd been stacking crates in the cargo hold since that morning, and supposedly had a view of the comings and goings of the crew. Supposedly being the key word; almost at the very instant she spoke, Zoe knew, with that sinking feeling that always seemed to arrive at some point during any conversation with Jayne, that his answer would be of no help whatsoever.
"Hell do I know? I ain't no-one's keeper. Man oughta come and go as he wants, if you ask me."
She leveled an even glare at him, and the grin that had formed on his lips dropped like a wounded steer. "Which you didn't," he added quickly.
"A simple 'no' would've sufficed."
Jayne shrugged, and went back to work. Zoe left him to it and headed for the galley. The problem wasn't so much that Wash had disappeared, but that she was almost certain that she knew the reason why. It had become a yearly battle of wills, seeing which of them could outdo the other on their anniversary. Last year he'd placed a trail of goose feathers all around the ship, at the end of which Zoe had discovered a gosling, sitting in an impromptu nest on their bed. The poor creature took one look at Zoe and flapped away in high distress, and it had taken half a day to clean up the resulting mess. For weeks after, they kept finding small reminders about the ship--usually, and perhaps unfortunately, ending up on various parts of Mal's clothing. The amusement factor of that particular incident, it was fair to say, wore off pretty fast.
And now he'd escaped with their resident psychic. To do what, she could only guess. If nothing else, it certainly put an edge to her day, a feeling of not quite knowing what was coming.
In some ways, this was part of what had drawn them together in the first place. The great unpredictable, Wash liked to call it. She had to admit, he'd named it well.
--
And this was the core of it all--he was so good to her, Wash. So good. It felt more genuine than anything she'd ever known; but beginnings are always hard, and every time she'd tried to tell herself otherwise--that she wasn't ready for this, for him--he only had to look her in the eyes, and ask two little words.
Why not?
And then of course, there was Mal. You like him, don't you? Mal would say, as ever, blunt to the core. When he got wind of a notion, he was intolerable, insufferable.
And usually right.
Back then, Zoe's response was to ignore him, and she stuck doggedly to this means of whisper-thin denial for as long as she could, but eventually it became impossible to stray so far from the truth. It wasn't that she didn't want to settle down, or find a husband, or--lord forbid--fall head over bullet-grazed heels in love. It was simply that the notion on its own felt ridiculous, like a dream always one sudden blink from vanishing. What was she thinking, looking at this man and actually picturing a life growing old together, while she followed Mal out of one near escape only to leap into the fiery belly of another? It wasn't just ridiculous--it just wasn't, full stop.
So she'd look her captain in the eye, smile at the teasing grin that dared to show him wrong. 'Course not, Zoe would reply; at the same time thinking, Maybe I do.
--
"Say again? He's where?"
Mal's voice managed to jump several octaves in a few short syllables, but it wasn't until his eyes flickered sheepishly in Zoe's direction, that the warning bells began to trill with feverish intent.
"Wash?" she asked.
He waved her away. "Yeah...okay, okay. Guess I should say thanks. Give me half an hour. They can sit an' wait."
She squared herself before him, silently demanding an explanation. Mal's mouth was set in a hard line. "One quiet day," he muttered, switching off the comm-link. "All I wanted, a day of nothing and nobody makin' trouble about me. Is that too much to ask for? They'd better have a gorramn clever explanation, is all I can say."
"For what?"
"Two crooks in a jail house, Zoe. Two little crooks in the arms of the happy and ever hospitable law."
She stopped still. "He's been arrested?"
Mal patted at his holster, and eyed her over. Despite his complaints and apparent anger, he appeared to be trying very hard not to smirk. "Ain't it your anniversary, too? Well, that husband of your has an eye for the spectacular, I gotta hand him that."
--
It had all been River's idea. According to Wash, she'd had difficulty believing that the stones in the necklace were real, and wanted to test their validity by judging the spectrum of colour they made when taken into the light. Which involved smuggling the item out of the shop and several hundred yards away, where she claimed the sun was brightest.
"A necklace. Huh." Zoe looked at him. As a means of response, it was somewhere in the middle of throttling him for being so impressionable, and throwing her arms around his neck in pure, loving relief. She stuck her hands on her hips instead, prolonging the moment a little longer.
Wash was watching her, a slightly needy look in his eyes mixed in with the appropriate indignity. The latter was pretty much impossible to escape, seeing as Mal had launched at the unfortunate pair with all barrels blazing, and didn't look like letting up any time soon.
"So," the captain asked now, as they took the mule through one of the more inconspicuous parts of town. Mal was steering and had installed River beside him up front. "What have we learnt today?"
River eyed him steadily, goggles raised to sit at her forehead. "That man had mislabeled his goods, told lies through means of trade. It would have been bad business to accept the price."
"That's as maybe, darlin', but the way to deal with it ain't to run off with the goods under hem an' hand."
"Contradiction," River said, without pause. "You do it all the time."
"Mal?" Wash spoke up quickly before a new and unrelated argument could break out. "Would it help if I offered my own meek apology? Only our plan turned out somewhat different to what I'd intended. I mean, look at this woman..." He gestured to Zoe, who remained calm and without expression. "Just look at her. What husband could go year after year and not cause some major raucous or other come his day of wedded bliss."
"Quite right. And If I recall," Mal pointed out, above the roar of the engine, "the last particular raucous was some sort of bird. Which flew about my boat makin' more damn mess than Jayne let loose in the kitchen."
Wash brightened, seeing an opening. "Absolutely! What's a spot of mischief between allies?"
"Your point being?"
"Uh...life is too short?" This was said more in hope, and finally drew a smile from Zoe. She took Wash's hand, a small gesture that meant more than any convoluted explanation.
"Let me be the judge of that, honey."
The wind rose, whipping grains of sand into their eyes, masking words but not her relief. They drove on, back to Serenity.
--
Two days later, Zoe found a tissue-wrapped bundle on her pillow. She didn't ask any questions, only kissed her husband and murmured her thanks. They both knew he was already making plans to continue the unpredictable, and better the giving next year.