Simon/River - Lest I should prize you not
Lest I should prize you not, you elude me in a thousand ways.
Lest I should mix you with the crowd, you stand aside.
Simon has never been able to say no to River. The problem is that he almost never had a reason to. River was always right, and therefore, what she wanted had to be right, too. So if she wanted dinosaurs to battle the Alliance in their afternoon play, then Simon agreed. If she wanted to sleep in his bed because she heard their parents arguing, then Simon let her, every time.
It's harder now. Not to say yes or no, but to know what it is River wants. She sticks her tongue out when he gives her shots, but she sticks her arm out, too, offering it to the needle. It's a yes and a no at the same time and he doesn’t know the right way to react.
He and Kaylee are down in the loading dock, laughing about nothing when River jumps from the stairway railing onto the deck's floor in an impossibly beautiful feat of gymnastics and Simon drops his teacup, and shatter-resistant plastic survives the impact and bounces twice, spilling his tea all over his shoes.
River brushes her hair away from her face and smiles, and Simon is about to tell her she can't do things like that, she shouldn’t because it's dangerous, but then he considers it probably isn't for River, considering the grace with which she landed.
Kaylee frowns at him and tucks her hands in her pockets. “You spilled your tea, doc,” she says.
Simon had already forgotten.
Later, when he is in his room, draping his wet socks over the bed post to dry, River strips off her own socks and tosses them over Simon's head.
“Bare feet are better,” River says. “You can feel the words again.”
And then she presses her feet to his. They are cold and so much smaller that, when she wiggles her toes, her toenails tickle the arch of his feet
“Now I can feel you,” she says.
Lest I should mix you with the crowd, you stand aside.
Simon has never been able to say no to River. The problem is that he almost never had a reason to. River was always right, and therefore, what she wanted had to be right, too. So if she wanted dinosaurs to battle the Alliance in their afternoon play, then Simon agreed. If she wanted to sleep in his bed because she heard their parents arguing, then Simon let her, every time.
It's harder now. Not to say yes or no, but to know what it is River wants. She sticks her tongue out when he gives her shots, but she sticks her arm out, too, offering it to the needle. It's a yes and a no at the same time and he doesn’t know the right way to react.
He and Kaylee are down in the loading dock, laughing about nothing when River jumps from the stairway railing onto the deck's floor in an impossibly beautiful feat of gymnastics and Simon drops his teacup, and shatter-resistant plastic survives the impact and bounces twice, spilling his tea all over his shoes.
River brushes her hair away from her face and smiles, and Simon is about to tell her she can't do things like that, she shouldn’t because it's dangerous, but then he considers it probably isn't for River, considering the grace with which she landed.
Kaylee frowns at him and tucks her hands in her pockets. “You spilled your tea, doc,” she says.
Simon had already forgotten.
Later, when he is in his room, draping his wet socks over the bed post to dry, River strips off her own socks and tosses them over Simon's head.
“Bare feet are better,” River says. “You can feel the words again.”
And then she presses her feet to his. They are cold and so much smaller that, when she wiggles her toes, her toenails tickle the arch of his feet
“Now I can feel you,” she says.