Fic: Pushing Buttons, Telling Lies (Firefly, Zoe/Wash)
Title: Pushing Buttons, Telling Lies
Fandom: Firefly
Pairings: Zoe/Wash, Mal/Jayne
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers/Continuity: Post-series, pre-Serenity. Sort of an outtake from Like Describing the Alphabet, although you don't need to know that story to understand this one.
Summary: Wash is, among other things, an honest man and a valuable member of the crew.
Word count: about 1100
Disclaimers: Firefly and Serenity are the intellectual property of Mutant Enemy. This original work of fan fiction is Copyright 2006 Mosca. This story is a labor of love, not money, so it's protected in the USA by the fair use provisions of the Copyright Act of 1976. All rights reserved. All wrongs reversed. There's a robust market for naked piloting, you know.
Notes: Thanks to callmesandy and distraction77 for the speed betas. Written for the Zoe/Wash ficathon at wifesoup, for vandonovan. Title is from "You and I Misbehaving," by Tilly and the Wall.
Wash had pilot's block. He was bringing Serenity in for another perfect landing, her big flat raptor feet digging into the earth without a bounce, and he thought, when was the last time he'd tried anything really impressive, shown the 'verse what his girl could do? It had been months since they'd been chased through an asteroid belt or forced into a fiery emergency descent toward the desert sands. All these easy, lucrative jobs were making a lazy and inconsequential man of him.
"You still impress me," Zoe said, shifting her weight in his lap and kissing his forehead.
"I can land her while you're sitting in my lap with your hand between my legs," he said. "There's no challenge in my life."
"You really want those hardscrabble days back?" Zoe said. "Never knowing if we were going to have enough fuel, pieces of the boat flying off as we broke atmo..."
"Those were the days," Wash said.
"They really were," Zoe sighed.
"Maybe I should install a trapeze," Wash said. "I could learn to pilot upside down."
Zoe fingered the buttons of his shirt. "Are you having an existential crisis, husband?" she said.
He was about to speak in his own defense, or possibly expound on the benefits of painting the bridge a new color, but Simon leaned in the door and cleared his throat. "Um," he said. "The captain sent me up to tell you, um, he wants the whole crew in the cargo bay. One of the barrels exploded during landing."
"Ai ya le, that landing was flawless," Wash protested.
"I guess one of the barrels wasn't, then," Simon said.
Zoe was cursing under her breath. "We can't afford to lose all that molasses," she said. "We can't afford to lose that client."
In the cargo bay, Jayne was pushing crates. "Ain't got no equipment to clean this la shi up," he was muttering.
"Good thing it don't move fast," Kaylee said. She looked to be trying to rig a mop to the front of the mule. Wash didn't ever mean to doubt Kaylee's ability to make things work, but this couldn't have been anything more than an act of desperation. Still, when she waved him over, he held the clamps steady while she screwed them on. Once they were on the ground, he had to go where he was needed.
Zoe and Mal were conferring in serious tones, just out of earshot. Wash wasn't the only one working to overhear. Jayne was concentrating overly on the crates nearest to their conversation, and Inara and River were leaning forward over the catwalk rails so far that it was a miracle they didn't spill over. But Wash couldn't hear anything but the hum of conspiring voices.
"Send Wash," Zoe said, loud and clear. It was meant to be heard. Mal whispered something, gesturing like he wished she'd quiet down. "No," she said. "Send him. What use is he to you here? You need someone who can lie to a client for half an hour until the situation is under control, and believe me, if that man could not lie, I would not have agreed to become his wife."
Mal called Wash over. There were instructions that he could have figured out on his own, a slip of paper in his hand with the name of the barbershop where they were supposed to meet their client, and one of his wife's smaller guns at his hip. It was all right, Mal reckoned, for Wash to go on his own. There would be negligible violence. And Wash, it was agreed, made a fair enough distraction.
The irony was, as much practice as he'd had as a liar, he'd never been one to Zoe.
It was a fearsome mission, but Wash undertook it with aplomb. Their client, Wu Xiong, really was a barber; he just did a little illegal trade in foodstuffs on the side. Wash knew he was treading on dangerous ground, exercising his repertoire of incredible-but-true flying stories. "No, I'm telling you, it was scary even by statue standards. The eyes followed you." Wu's daughter trimmed Wash's hair and gave him a shave while he described watching a solar eclipse from low orbit. When anyone got restless, he assured them that everything was fine, just running a little behind, not to worry. They didn't seem to suspect anything. Surely, they suspected disaster. You didn't get far in smuggling without a glib tongue.
He returned to Serenity with Wu on one arm and his daughter on the other. The cargo bay was spotless. It wasn't just that the floor was non-sticky, it was that Wash was pretty sure he'd never seen the spaceship clean before. "The merchandise is to your left," Wash said. As Zoe came toward him, he added, "And straight ahead of you is my lovely wife." Wu bowed; his daughter sulked a touch; Mal led them away to explain about how they appeared to be a barrel short, but this was only a tragic illusion.
"What happened in here?" Wash whispered. "Did a team of industrious brownies explode?"
"Hundred-gallon power hose and a case of industrial solvent," Zoe said. "Simon's idea. Him and Jayne make a surprisingly good team when it comes to stealing large and dangerous objects."
"As long as they aren't teaming up for anything else," Wash said.
"Tian xiao de, eat your words," Zoe said. "That would be an excuse for Mal to slit Simon's throat."
"I thought we weren't discussing that," Wash said.
"Anything I have to hear through my bedroom wall at that hour of morning, I'll discuss if I want to," she said. She looked over her shoulder, probably with the intention of checking up on Mal, but she smiled broadly. "Would you look at that? In the doorway." Jayne was standing with his hand against the doorframe, staring and pretending not to stare, all the more obvious for the pretending.
"Horrifying," Wash said, throwing his arms around Zoe's waist. "Hold me."
"Remember when you were in love with me like that? When you couldn't take your eyes off me?"
"I still can't take my eyes off you, darling," he said, working hard to make himself sound unironic, but a twinge of sarcasm crept in unabated.
"Liar," she said, kissing his nose.
"I am not," Wash said. "I distracted those fine folks for two hours without telling a single lie. Embellishments, yes, but no lies."
"God help me," Zoe said. "I've married an honest man."
Fandom: Firefly
Pairings: Zoe/Wash, Mal/Jayne
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers/Continuity: Post-series, pre-Serenity. Sort of an outtake from Like Describing the Alphabet, although you don't need to know that story to understand this one.
Summary: Wash is, among other things, an honest man and a valuable member of the crew.
Word count: about 1100
Disclaimers: Firefly and Serenity are the intellectual property of Mutant Enemy. This original work of fan fiction is Copyright 2006 Mosca. This story is a labor of love, not money, so it's protected in the USA by the fair use provisions of the Copyright Act of 1976. All rights reserved. All wrongs reversed. There's a robust market for naked piloting, you know.
Notes: Thanks to callmesandy and distraction77 for the speed betas. Written for the Zoe/Wash ficathon at wifesoup, for vandonovan. Title is from "You and I Misbehaving," by Tilly and the Wall.
Wash had pilot's block. He was bringing Serenity in for another perfect landing, her big flat raptor feet digging into the earth without a bounce, and he thought, when was the last time he'd tried anything really impressive, shown the 'verse what his girl could do? It had been months since they'd been chased through an asteroid belt or forced into a fiery emergency descent toward the desert sands. All these easy, lucrative jobs were making a lazy and inconsequential man of him.
"You still impress me," Zoe said, shifting her weight in his lap and kissing his forehead.
"I can land her while you're sitting in my lap with your hand between my legs," he said. "There's no challenge in my life."
"You really want those hardscrabble days back?" Zoe said. "Never knowing if we were going to have enough fuel, pieces of the boat flying off as we broke atmo..."
"Those were the days," Wash said.
"They really were," Zoe sighed.
"Maybe I should install a trapeze," Wash said. "I could learn to pilot upside down."
Zoe fingered the buttons of his shirt. "Are you having an existential crisis, husband?" she said.
He was about to speak in his own defense, or possibly expound on the benefits of painting the bridge a new color, but Simon leaned in the door and cleared his throat. "Um," he said. "The captain sent me up to tell you, um, he wants the whole crew in the cargo bay. One of the barrels exploded during landing."
"Ai ya le, that landing was flawless," Wash protested.
"I guess one of the barrels wasn't, then," Simon said.
Zoe was cursing under her breath. "We can't afford to lose all that molasses," she said. "We can't afford to lose that client."
In the cargo bay, Jayne was pushing crates. "Ain't got no equipment to clean this la shi up," he was muttering.
"Good thing it don't move fast," Kaylee said. She looked to be trying to rig a mop to the front of the mule. Wash didn't ever mean to doubt Kaylee's ability to make things work, but this couldn't have been anything more than an act of desperation. Still, when she waved him over, he held the clamps steady while she screwed them on. Once they were on the ground, he had to go where he was needed.
Zoe and Mal were conferring in serious tones, just out of earshot. Wash wasn't the only one working to overhear. Jayne was concentrating overly on the crates nearest to their conversation, and Inara and River were leaning forward over the catwalk rails so far that it was a miracle they didn't spill over. But Wash couldn't hear anything but the hum of conspiring voices.
"Send Wash," Zoe said, loud and clear. It was meant to be heard. Mal whispered something, gesturing like he wished she'd quiet down. "No," she said. "Send him. What use is he to you here? You need someone who can lie to a client for half an hour until the situation is under control, and believe me, if that man could not lie, I would not have agreed to become his wife."
Mal called Wash over. There were instructions that he could have figured out on his own, a slip of paper in his hand with the name of the barbershop where they were supposed to meet their client, and one of his wife's smaller guns at his hip. It was all right, Mal reckoned, for Wash to go on his own. There would be negligible violence. And Wash, it was agreed, made a fair enough distraction.
The irony was, as much practice as he'd had as a liar, he'd never been one to Zoe.
It was a fearsome mission, but Wash undertook it with aplomb. Their client, Wu Xiong, really was a barber; he just did a little illegal trade in foodstuffs on the side. Wash knew he was treading on dangerous ground, exercising his repertoire of incredible-but-true flying stories. "No, I'm telling you, it was scary even by statue standards. The eyes followed you." Wu's daughter trimmed Wash's hair and gave him a shave while he described watching a solar eclipse from low orbit. When anyone got restless, he assured them that everything was fine, just running a little behind, not to worry. They didn't seem to suspect anything. Surely, they suspected disaster. You didn't get far in smuggling without a glib tongue.
He returned to Serenity with Wu on one arm and his daughter on the other. The cargo bay was spotless. It wasn't just that the floor was non-sticky, it was that Wash was pretty sure he'd never seen the spaceship clean before. "The merchandise is to your left," Wash said. As Zoe came toward him, he added, "And straight ahead of you is my lovely wife." Wu bowed; his daughter sulked a touch; Mal led them away to explain about how they appeared to be a barrel short, but this was only a tragic illusion.
"What happened in here?" Wash whispered. "Did a team of industrious brownies explode?"
"Hundred-gallon power hose and a case of industrial solvent," Zoe said. "Simon's idea. Him and Jayne make a surprisingly good team when it comes to stealing large and dangerous objects."
"As long as they aren't teaming up for anything else," Wash said.
"Tian xiao de, eat your words," Zoe said. "That would be an excuse for Mal to slit Simon's throat."
"I thought we weren't discussing that," Wash said.
"Anything I have to hear through my bedroom wall at that hour of morning, I'll discuss if I want to," she said. She looked over her shoulder, probably with the intention of checking up on Mal, but she smiled broadly. "Would you look at that? In the doorway." Jayne was standing with his hand against the doorframe, staring and pretending not to stare, all the more obvious for the pretending.
"Horrifying," Wash said, throwing his arms around Zoe's waist. "Hold me."
"Remember when you were in love with me like that? When you couldn't take your eyes off me?"
"I still can't take my eyes off you, darling," he said, working hard to make himself sound unironic, but a twinge of sarcasm crept in unabated.
"Liar," she said, kissing his nose.
"I am not," Wash said. "I distracted those fine folks for two hours without telling a single lie. Embellishments, yes, but no lies."
"God help me," Zoe said. "I've married an honest man."