FIC: Women's Things (Firefly, Inara/River, PG-13)
TITLE: Women’s Things
RATING: PG-13
FANDOMS: Firefly
PAIRING: Inara/River
SUMMARY: Beauty and the beast.
AUTHOR’S NOTES: Takes place after everything in the film but the epilogue. Written for femslash_minis Round 86 for brutti_ma_buoni, who wanted River and Inara with the trope “beautiful all along,” with hair washing, a private space, a noticeable smell or scent, without a makeover or Simon disapproving.
“Tell me a story,” River said. “Tell me a story from Earth that was.”
They were cocooned in Inara’s bed, the girl with her bird bones and her scent of apples moving serpentine against Inara, her tiny hands clutching Inara’s shoulders, tangling in Inara’s hair-seemingly everywhere at once. Some bony part of her moved once again against the swelling between Inara’s legs, and Inara ached deep within her, and thought, thought again, we couldn’t possibly, but it was just an accident, probably, and not a bribe for a story.
“Once upon a time,” Inara said, “once upon a time, back a long time ago-a long time ago, even to those on Earth that was, there was a prince. The prince was very wealthy, but very vain. One day, an ugly old beggar woman came to his door, asking for food and shelter. The prince turned her away. The beggar woman revealed herself in her true form-a beautiful enchantress-and cursed him for his cruelty, with a hideous form. The only way he would only regain his beauty-his salvation-she swore, was if he could find someone to love him.”
Inara wasn’t sure how the lines were drawn, or if there were lines at all-she doubted it, though she found herself doubting a lot these days-but it seemed like men’s things on Serenity fell to Mal and women’s things fell to her. Back when things were working smooth, that is, which this sure as gui was not, that’s how things went. But people are strange in a crisis, maybe truly themselves, and after the fighting River went limp and Inara took her into a quiet place.
The water ran pink, the soap foaming up under Inara’s fingernails. River was supple now, near doll-like in the way she let Inara move her-nothing like before.
Nothing was like before.
“Tell me a story,” River said. Her eyes had drifted closed, and she pressed her head back into Inara’s palm as Inara shampooed.
“I don’t know any stories,” Inara said numbly-a lie, but she was an excellent liar.
“Mmm,” River said, and that became a hum, and the hum became a nameless melody.
Inara became gradually aware that her hands were shaking.
Inara remembered when River first came aboard Serenity, the first time she’d seen her. They’d taken her from that vessel, as frozen as the darkness of space, and wrapped her in Inara’s fine silks. Later, Kaylee had had the most fun going through Inara’s old gowns and picking out some things for River to wear. They’d dressed her up like a beautiful doll, unaware that a weapon lived inside that lovely form.
River’s hair tangled, Inara’s fingers catching on something. Inara delicately extricated the object from River’s hair, and held it up for inspection. Its identity hit her all of a sudden-bone. She wretched, head swimming.
River hummed.
And which one of those had it been crawling into Inara’s bed in the middle of the night, cold, tiny feet tangling with Inara’s-the beautiful doll, or the killer?
“And did he?” River asked dreamily? “Did the prince find someone to love him?”
“Shhh,” Inara said, smoothing River’s hair back, lingering over the lovely curve of the girl’s face. “You’ll ruin the ending.”