Heartbreaker (Firefly fic)
Title: Heartbreaker
Author/Artist: Ann
Rating: NC-17 for a touch of smut
Summary: Sometimes it’s the things you can’t hear that hurt the most. Simon isn’t having the greatest Valentine’s day.
Pairings: One sided Simon/Wash, One sided CSI
Be warned there’s angst, this isn’t the happy piece I planned to write, this one just came out instead.
Written for valentine's day challenge at ff_holidays
Thanks to thunder_nari for urging and advising me on and lvs2read for betaing for me :)
Warm hands are caressing his skin, moist lips on his neck seconds before a playful laugh reaches his ears. Simon‘s laughing too, rolling over and embracing the man who has tackled him, who now lies atop him, Simon‘s legs wrapped around his waist. Intense blue eyes peer into his own, moments before Simon claims the lips which hover so temptingly close. Tongue tracing and exploring, mapping out every inch and teasing at the sensitive inner lips, Simon is happily taken aback as the kiss deepens, his lover’s tongue teasing at his own. Caressing and claiming as much as their hands are.
He stifles a groan, knowing they could be heard, could be seen if they aren’t careful; having to bite down on his lip as his lover’s hard cock rubs against his own, sending a warm flush straight through him, making him moan and thrust eagerly against it as their tongues tangle, hands groping at the smooth, toned flesh-
“Simon! Got better things to do than waken you up into panderin’ to my whims an’ givin’ me your ever so helpful attention.”
Mal's voice is exasperated, but there’s an undercurrent of amusement that Simon doesn’t like as his attention snaps towards the captain, towards the rest of the crew who are peering across the dinner table at him, their expressions ranging from confused to sneering.
Go-se.
The curse comes into his mind at the exact same time the warm flush from earlier comes back, making Simon’s cheeks heat to a very deep red, the blush traveling straight down his neck and drawing even more attention. He rarely blushed but when he did, everyone knew about it, almost made him stand out like a beacon of obvious embarrassment. Thankfully though, anatomy was helping him out in another aspect, blood rushing to his cheeks and leaving other areas to do so.
“You best be gettin’ back to the infirmary, if you’re wanting me to look into forking out coin for all you need, especially given that Kaylee‘s got her eye on most of it for this damn party she‘s wantin‘.”
Mal’s smirking now as the others start to get up; Kaylee protesting that it’s a celebration, one dating back to before Alliance and Core and one Mal should enjoy since it’ll involve some of her own brand of alcohol and plenty of pink, paper tiaras. The Captain’s orders and wants are lost on Simon as his eyes catch the intense ones from his fantasy; Wash’s confused gaze is on him, making Simon’s breath hitch just that little bit, the blush in no danger of going. Mouth dry, he can only watch as Wash shrugs and walks away, no longer focused on Simon but on something Kaylee is saying.
“Not gonna berate me as to how my gettin’ stuff for you is necessary in keeping my crew safe and bullet free?” Mal looks surprised, a look which Simon isn’t used to but could stand to see more of, especially given the rare grin on the Captain’s lips.
“I think even my best intentions and forward planning couldn’t stop that eventuality, Captain. This crew picks up more bullet holes than jobs sometimes.” It’s meant as a joke, Simon’s humor obviously in need of as much work as his social skills because the words only bring a frown to Mal’s face. A stiff, closed expression replacing the earlier smile.
“Guess we oughta be grateful to have you on board then.” The captain’s back is as tense as his words as Mal strides towards the cockpit, making Simon mentally kick himself at his poor choice of words. Standing up, he can see the small paper hearts scattered around--preparations for a party Simon’s not sure he should go to. Celebrations he’s not even sure he wants to be a part of.
A great start, upsetting Mal and likely someone else by the end of the day. Probably Kaylee, though Simon hopes his rebuffs have been obvious enough, blatant enough, for her not to flirt with him. She can’t help her attractions anymore than Simon can, but he doesn’t want her hurt, would be insanely pleased to be able to be just close friends. He needs friends, craves them in a way.
His mind is on the bottle of sake as he walks; half hidden in his room, a left over from his last few days of freedom before he rescued River. It would be more than strong by now, more fermented, but could serve as an apology to Mal and a treat for the rest of the crew. Something to rival Kaylee’s alcohol maybe. Feeling the small lump in his pocket, remembering what he had planned to do before Wash took over the helm once more and pushed Mal off, Simon is already turning back, intent on summoning the courage to do as he’s planned. Instead coming face to face with River.
“Don’t.”
The word is shaky, a hitching plea to it as she presses herself against him, nuzzles against his chest. Her hair is disheveled and hangs over her face, obscuring her expression and when Simon tries to turn her towards him, she only burrows deeper.
“River?” He can’t hold back the bewilderment, both worry and confusion rushing through him as her hands clutch at his vest, an action eerily similar to when they where younger.
Today was meant to be such a good day, she was having such fun making it special.
“Mei-mei?” Simon speaks more gently, wanting to pry her hands from his shirt, cup her cheek and tilt her face towards him. But he can feel wetness against his neck as she turns her head away from him, resting in the groove of his neck. Wetness, Simon can imagine to be both salty and sweet as tears so often were.
“Honesty’s too much,” River mumbles the words against his neck as Simon wraps his arms around her, half afraid she’ll fall to the floor in fear or rage. The two emotions are so interchangeable and come so easily to her now, he has to take every precaution though the idea of seeing River as something hazardous sits poorly with him.
“Honesty?” Something about the word strikes an unpleasant chord with Simon and he can only hope someone (most likely Jayne) hasn’t said anything to upset her. Or hasn’t thought anything to upset her, River can be remarkably astute at times, catching things she shouldn’t and Simon wishes she wouldn’t.
“Day for it.” Her words are softer now and so sullen that he has to gently push her back, just so he can see her face, gauge her expressions and mood. There’s a frown on her face, wet trail along her cheek that small wisps of hair cling to.
That was one way of looking at it, but River had been the one to drag up the scant references from the Cortex. To point out and thrill Kaylee with the tales from earth-that-was; of the saint whose namesake was once seen as sinner and of lovers drawn apart by time and destiny, friendships forged and families bound. Valentine’s Day, one barely recognized by the Core and more as an excuse for lovemaking and presents than as a celebration of love. All kinds of love, as River had pointed out.
“Has someone said something to you?” Simon doubts it, or more doubts that it would bother River if they had. Some of the crew weren’t all that shy in voicing their opinions and advice when River became agitated or had one of her moments of madness.
She won't look at him, her gaze off to one side; either mesmerized by something or musing on a memory--he isn’t sure which. “Not saying it, not needing to; know what you want, what lurks here, hiding and wanting and waiting, ready to tear down, not heal.” She rests her hand over his heart and for one split second, one uneasy moment, the vision of her fist clenching and ripping through his chest, pulling the organ out to study, fills his mind.
“River-”
A pained look crosses River’s face, though Simon can’t see the cause, can’t fathom what’s upset her. Her words, more lucid of late, are still jumbles, still confused.
“Not the only one who sees it, not the only one who knows. Teasing, tempting, thinking of taking and breaking. Can’t think, can’t feel, can’t have.” Her words are tinged with bitterness as she steps closer to him, her face resting against his cheek for a moment and then softly brushing up against the side of his.
Simon doesn’t realize he is against the wall, barely registering the metal at his back as his hands grasp her upper arms, stilling her movement as he tries to process her remarks. Tries to make sense of and understand the cryptic confusing accusation. River is uncomfortably close, her body pressed tightly to his; so close, Simon is sure she can feel his heart beat quicken.
Ai ya, not again, not now.
Sometimes he wonders if she forgets who he is, what he is meant to be to her. His love for her broken and battered spirit draws him closer, making him more passionate about healing her back to the beloved sibling she is. Once or twice since coming aboard Serenity, he’s found himself slipping into her delusion and coming dangerously, shamefully close.
At one point they could have slept easily together in the same bed, as Simon had done during some of River’s more terrifying nightmares, but not now. Simon had been the one to hold her during her nightmares, to hush and soothe her, but the moment had been lost when she’d pressed her lips to his; the night she’d wrapped herself around him, drawing him into an embrace and his half asleep, half numb body had responded before his mind registered what he was doing. Now the idea makes him hesitate, makes uneasiness set in.
She ain’t right, she’s more ‘an off.
The words said so harshly by another, yet not as harsh in their condemnation as Simon had anticipated, sprung to mind. River was ill. Confused and jumbled, both in emotion and thought; so much so that the bond between them had become stronger and more intense in her eyes and she clung to him physically as much as he did emotionally to her. The bond had always been there, unbreakable and strong, forged through childhood and adolescence. Awkwardness and change, both having few friends to become closer to; both skipping forward grades at school and both being too young, however mature, too gifted for their peers to relate to. And so they’d clung to each other. Played together, studied together, sat through endless monotonous things only those in the Core would attend.
“Be my Valentine?” The question is whispered huskily in Simon’s ear, warm air ghosting inside and startling him from his reverie as she presses her lips to his earlobe, kissing it softly.
Tianna.
“No.” The word comes gently from his lips, but with a finality that draws her eyes to his. She’s still too close, bodies pressed together, hers half splayed over his. Provocative pose, seductive pose, but Simon knows it’s not her, knows she’s confused this between them. Her mouth is barely millimeters from his own, almost grazing over his, her breath warm on his lips. He knows she can’t control it, can’t help it, but Simon can. He knows to say no, he feels to say no, and he has to be the one to do it. He knows what she wants, what she feels she needs. Saw the first glimpse of it in a moment of jealousy when she asked him to marry her. Simon trying to laugh off the uncomfortable question, seeing the suspicion in Book’s eyes as River asked again, cradling the jumper she’d shoved under her dress in a protective manner.
When did things become so complicated?
When had he started feeling guilty for not giving her the one thing that she thought could make her happy? The one thing he can’t bring himself to give or think on, so lost in the moral stigmatism as much as his desire for another.
His desire for Wash.
A married man--yet another moral issue and one he should never act on, could never act on, though the man has both fascinated and attracted him from the moment he stepped aboard Serenity. Not only attractive and featuring in many of Simon’s fantasies, but having the personality and humor that made Simon wish he were single, make Simon wish he’d met Wash years earlier. Perhaps even have him wishing he’d not chosen Serenity and found something that distracts his mind from River, from what should be his only true thought. Something that he wants for himself, someone he desires to be with.
“Sound of a heart breaking?” She looks curious now and interested, stepping back to poke at his chest, her manner completely reverted to that of his mischievous little sister--her request and his rejection seeming to be forgotten.
“There’s no medical proof for that, River, though it’s been found that-” Simon pauses, a wry smile on his lips, relieved more than anything else that she’s back to being herself again. “That’s not what you meant was it?” He doesn’t know how to answer her question, can’t think on whose heart she hears breaking. Her own? Someone else’s maybe? He’s not sure, he can only ask. “Whose heart do you think you can hear?”
“Yours,” She looks matter of fact about it, but her words send a chill through Simon; not close to that emotion, but feeling it grow day by day, hiding it and holding it close to himself as possessively as he held himself. Never acting on it and coming only slightly close to revealing something more than friendship, coming dangerously close if she hadn’t waylaid him.
“Mine,” She looks sadder now, but pirouettes back as Simon moves to touch her arm, “Bruises with every beat, painful together. Never having, never giving, always tempted.” She whirls around and he moves closer to catch her, knowing in his heart she’s never fallen before in her life, never been that off balance and kilter. But she stumbles a little, gripping his arm and grasping at the pocket of his trousers at the small lump he’d so carefully hidden.
“Will break you if you let it, don’t rush--be slow.”
She speaks emphatically, prompting Simon to reach into his pocket and pull out the tiny, tissue-wrapped item. The very tiny, yet surprisingly expensive, model replica of the first ship Wash had ever flown into space. The first one he’d ever flown and landed and loved. One left behind, only in memory; a memory Simon had painstakingly sought out a visual reminder of and planned to leave on the pilot’s console. An anonymous Valentine he hoped Wash would treasure. Or at least pit against the dinosaurs in moments of boredom.
“Not a doctor if you do, not healing but breaking apart. Wrecking family, not ruining this one, not letting yourself be what they said.”
He isn’t sure how she knew but as always, she already does and her warning shakes him, makes him press the gift into her palm when she reaches for it. There’s a strained smile on his face and Simon can’t seem to find the words to thank her, her warning obvious now. You’ll wreck our family…Simon’s still skeptical they are part of one, can’t trust they won’t be betrayed, but he knows River thinks they are, that she believes with every molecule in her body. And he can’t risk that, can’t carelessly knock away the anchor and happiness she’s found within the ship and crew.
Simon doesn’t want to let go of the small hope inside him, a hope that’s wilting every moment. He knows she’s right, has no doubt if he tentatively asked or acted in the way he desperately wants to, he’d get nothing but rejection. Knowing Wash, it would probably be gentle and tactful, but it would still be rejection. That obviously isn’t about to change, no matter how much Simon wants it. How much he daydreams and muses and wishes.
“It’s never going to happen.” His words are soft and he misses the dual emotions flashing in her eyes, both triumphant and sorrowful. The anxious anticipation he’d felt earlier, the left over arousal and need, has all faded, replaced by a cold feeling that churns up into his belly making him stand straighter. Making his body tense and face struggle to settle on a neutral expression as every word she’s said replays in his mind, prompting disappointment to overwhelm him, pushing him to walk away.
Simon carefully takes the ship from her, his fingers curling gently around the now bitter reminder as he bows slightly and turns away. The infirmary’s the best place for him now to be alone with his thoughts. To let the disappointment fade and hope start to rise before it’s shot down once more. To never realize the irony of what potential he could have missed out on, waiting for another year, the special day to come the next year; a day Simon will soon realize Wash will never see.
“Want you to myself, want to be selfish, be only mine.” She murmurs to herself as she watches him walk stiffly away; she doesn‘t know, can‘t know what will befall Wash. All River knows is she wants Simon for herself and, confused and muddled as her mind is, it nudges her to say the things that will bring him back to her. Make him only hers.
Closing her eyes briefly, she lets the thoughts within the ship envelop her~What’s the sound of a heart breaking?~ River thinks she knows.
Translations:
mei mei- little sister
go se-crap
Ai ya-damn
Author/Artist: Ann
Rating: NC-17 for a touch of smut
Summary: Sometimes it’s the things you can’t hear that hurt the most. Simon isn’t having the greatest Valentine’s day.
Pairings: One sided Simon/Wash, One sided CSI
Be warned there’s angst, this isn’t the happy piece I planned to write, this one just came out instead.
Written for valentine's day challenge at ff_holidays
Thanks to thunder_nari for urging and advising me on and lvs2read for betaing for me :)
Warm hands are caressing his skin, moist lips on his neck seconds before a playful laugh reaches his ears. Simon‘s laughing too, rolling over and embracing the man who has tackled him, who now lies atop him, Simon‘s legs wrapped around his waist. Intense blue eyes peer into his own, moments before Simon claims the lips which hover so temptingly close. Tongue tracing and exploring, mapping out every inch and teasing at the sensitive inner lips, Simon is happily taken aback as the kiss deepens, his lover’s tongue teasing at his own. Caressing and claiming as much as their hands are.
He stifles a groan, knowing they could be heard, could be seen if they aren’t careful; having to bite down on his lip as his lover’s hard cock rubs against his own, sending a warm flush straight through him, making him moan and thrust eagerly against it as their tongues tangle, hands groping at the smooth, toned flesh-
“Simon! Got better things to do than waken you up into panderin’ to my whims an’ givin’ me your ever so helpful attention.”
Mal's voice is exasperated, but there’s an undercurrent of amusement that Simon doesn’t like as his attention snaps towards the captain, towards the rest of the crew who are peering across the dinner table at him, their expressions ranging from confused to sneering.
Go-se.
The curse comes into his mind at the exact same time the warm flush from earlier comes back, making Simon’s cheeks heat to a very deep red, the blush traveling straight down his neck and drawing even more attention. He rarely blushed but when he did, everyone knew about it, almost made him stand out like a beacon of obvious embarrassment. Thankfully though, anatomy was helping him out in another aspect, blood rushing to his cheeks and leaving other areas to do so.
“You best be gettin’ back to the infirmary, if you’re wanting me to look into forking out coin for all you need, especially given that Kaylee‘s got her eye on most of it for this damn party she‘s wantin‘.”
Mal’s smirking now as the others start to get up; Kaylee protesting that it’s a celebration, one dating back to before Alliance and Core and one Mal should enjoy since it’ll involve some of her own brand of alcohol and plenty of pink, paper tiaras. The Captain’s orders and wants are lost on Simon as his eyes catch the intense ones from his fantasy; Wash’s confused gaze is on him, making Simon’s breath hitch just that little bit, the blush in no danger of going. Mouth dry, he can only watch as Wash shrugs and walks away, no longer focused on Simon but on something Kaylee is saying.
“Not gonna berate me as to how my gettin’ stuff for you is necessary in keeping my crew safe and bullet free?” Mal looks surprised, a look which Simon isn’t used to but could stand to see more of, especially given the rare grin on the Captain’s lips.
“I think even my best intentions and forward planning couldn’t stop that eventuality, Captain. This crew picks up more bullet holes than jobs sometimes.” It’s meant as a joke, Simon’s humor obviously in need of as much work as his social skills because the words only bring a frown to Mal’s face. A stiff, closed expression replacing the earlier smile.
“Guess we oughta be grateful to have you on board then.” The captain’s back is as tense as his words as Mal strides towards the cockpit, making Simon mentally kick himself at his poor choice of words. Standing up, he can see the small paper hearts scattered around--preparations for a party Simon’s not sure he should go to. Celebrations he’s not even sure he wants to be a part of.
A great start, upsetting Mal and likely someone else by the end of the day. Probably Kaylee, though Simon hopes his rebuffs have been obvious enough, blatant enough, for her not to flirt with him. She can’t help her attractions anymore than Simon can, but he doesn’t want her hurt, would be insanely pleased to be able to be just close friends. He needs friends, craves them in a way.
His mind is on the bottle of sake as he walks; half hidden in his room, a left over from his last few days of freedom before he rescued River. It would be more than strong by now, more fermented, but could serve as an apology to Mal and a treat for the rest of the crew. Something to rival Kaylee’s alcohol maybe. Feeling the small lump in his pocket, remembering what he had planned to do before Wash took over the helm once more and pushed Mal off, Simon is already turning back, intent on summoning the courage to do as he’s planned. Instead coming face to face with River.
“Don’t.”
The word is shaky, a hitching plea to it as she presses herself against him, nuzzles against his chest. Her hair is disheveled and hangs over her face, obscuring her expression and when Simon tries to turn her towards him, she only burrows deeper.
“River?” He can’t hold back the bewilderment, both worry and confusion rushing through him as her hands clutch at his vest, an action eerily similar to when they where younger.
Today was meant to be such a good day, she was having such fun making it special.
“Mei-mei?” Simon speaks more gently, wanting to pry her hands from his shirt, cup her cheek and tilt her face towards him. But he can feel wetness against his neck as she turns her head away from him, resting in the groove of his neck. Wetness, Simon can imagine to be both salty and sweet as tears so often were.
“Honesty’s too much,” River mumbles the words against his neck as Simon wraps his arms around her, half afraid she’ll fall to the floor in fear or rage. The two emotions are so interchangeable and come so easily to her now, he has to take every precaution though the idea of seeing River as something hazardous sits poorly with him.
“Honesty?” Something about the word strikes an unpleasant chord with Simon and he can only hope someone (most likely Jayne) hasn’t said anything to upset her. Or hasn’t thought anything to upset her, River can be remarkably astute at times, catching things she shouldn’t and Simon wishes she wouldn’t.
“Day for it.” Her words are softer now and so sullen that he has to gently push her back, just so he can see her face, gauge her expressions and mood. There’s a frown on her face, wet trail along her cheek that small wisps of hair cling to.
That was one way of looking at it, but River had been the one to drag up the scant references from the Cortex. To point out and thrill Kaylee with the tales from earth-that-was; of the saint whose namesake was once seen as sinner and of lovers drawn apart by time and destiny, friendships forged and families bound. Valentine’s Day, one barely recognized by the Core and more as an excuse for lovemaking and presents than as a celebration of love. All kinds of love, as River had pointed out.
“Has someone said something to you?” Simon doubts it, or more doubts that it would bother River if they had. Some of the crew weren’t all that shy in voicing their opinions and advice when River became agitated or had one of her moments of madness.
She won't look at him, her gaze off to one side; either mesmerized by something or musing on a memory--he isn’t sure which. “Not saying it, not needing to; know what you want, what lurks here, hiding and wanting and waiting, ready to tear down, not heal.” She rests her hand over his heart and for one split second, one uneasy moment, the vision of her fist clenching and ripping through his chest, pulling the organ out to study, fills his mind.
“River-”
A pained look crosses River’s face, though Simon can’t see the cause, can’t fathom what’s upset her. Her words, more lucid of late, are still jumbles, still confused.
“Not the only one who sees it, not the only one who knows. Teasing, tempting, thinking of taking and breaking. Can’t think, can’t feel, can’t have.” Her words are tinged with bitterness as she steps closer to him, her face resting against his cheek for a moment and then softly brushing up against the side of his.
Simon doesn’t realize he is against the wall, barely registering the metal at his back as his hands grasp her upper arms, stilling her movement as he tries to process her remarks. Tries to make sense of and understand the cryptic confusing accusation. River is uncomfortably close, her body pressed tightly to his; so close, Simon is sure she can feel his heart beat quicken.
Ai ya, not again, not now.
Sometimes he wonders if she forgets who he is, what he is meant to be to her. His love for her broken and battered spirit draws him closer, making him more passionate about healing her back to the beloved sibling she is. Once or twice since coming aboard Serenity, he’s found himself slipping into her delusion and coming dangerously, shamefully close.
At one point they could have slept easily together in the same bed, as Simon had done during some of River’s more terrifying nightmares, but not now. Simon had been the one to hold her during her nightmares, to hush and soothe her, but the moment had been lost when she’d pressed her lips to his; the night she’d wrapped herself around him, drawing him into an embrace and his half asleep, half numb body had responded before his mind registered what he was doing. Now the idea makes him hesitate, makes uneasiness set in.
She ain’t right, she’s more ‘an off.
The words said so harshly by another, yet not as harsh in their condemnation as Simon had anticipated, sprung to mind. River was ill. Confused and jumbled, both in emotion and thought; so much so that the bond between them had become stronger and more intense in her eyes and she clung to him physically as much as he did emotionally to her. The bond had always been there, unbreakable and strong, forged through childhood and adolescence. Awkwardness and change, both having few friends to become closer to; both skipping forward grades at school and both being too young, however mature, too gifted for their peers to relate to. And so they’d clung to each other. Played together, studied together, sat through endless monotonous things only those in the Core would attend.
“Be my Valentine?” The question is whispered huskily in Simon’s ear, warm air ghosting inside and startling him from his reverie as she presses her lips to his earlobe, kissing it softly.
Tianna.
“No.” The word comes gently from his lips, but with a finality that draws her eyes to his. She’s still too close, bodies pressed together, hers half splayed over his. Provocative pose, seductive pose, but Simon knows it’s not her, knows she’s confused this between them. Her mouth is barely millimeters from his own, almost grazing over his, her breath warm on his lips. He knows she can’t control it, can’t help it, but Simon can. He knows to say no, he feels to say no, and he has to be the one to do it. He knows what she wants, what she feels she needs. Saw the first glimpse of it in a moment of jealousy when she asked him to marry her. Simon trying to laugh off the uncomfortable question, seeing the suspicion in Book’s eyes as River asked again, cradling the jumper she’d shoved under her dress in a protective manner.
When did things become so complicated?
When had he started feeling guilty for not giving her the one thing that she thought could make her happy? The one thing he can’t bring himself to give or think on, so lost in the moral stigmatism as much as his desire for another.
His desire for Wash.
A married man--yet another moral issue and one he should never act on, could never act on, though the man has both fascinated and attracted him from the moment he stepped aboard Serenity. Not only attractive and featuring in many of Simon’s fantasies, but having the personality and humor that made Simon wish he were single, make Simon wish he’d met Wash years earlier. Perhaps even have him wishing he’d not chosen Serenity and found something that distracts his mind from River, from what should be his only true thought. Something that he wants for himself, someone he desires to be with.
“Sound of a heart breaking?” She looks curious now and interested, stepping back to poke at his chest, her manner completely reverted to that of his mischievous little sister--her request and his rejection seeming to be forgotten.
“There’s no medical proof for that, River, though it’s been found that-” Simon pauses, a wry smile on his lips, relieved more than anything else that she’s back to being herself again. “That’s not what you meant was it?” He doesn’t know how to answer her question, can’t think on whose heart she hears breaking. Her own? Someone else’s maybe? He’s not sure, he can only ask. “Whose heart do you think you can hear?”
“Yours,” She looks matter of fact about it, but her words send a chill through Simon; not close to that emotion, but feeling it grow day by day, hiding it and holding it close to himself as possessively as he held himself. Never acting on it and coming only slightly close to revealing something more than friendship, coming dangerously close if she hadn’t waylaid him.
“Mine,” She looks sadder now, but pirouettes back as Simon moves to touch her arm, “Bruises with every beat, painful together. Never having, never giving, always tempted.” She whirls around and he moves closer to catch her, knowing in his heart she’s never fallen before in her life, never been that off balance and kilter. But she stumbles a little, gripping his arm and grasping at the pocket of his trousers at the small lump he’d so carefully hidden.
“Will break you if you let it, don’t rush--be slow.”
She speaks emphatically, prompting Simon to reach into his pocket and pull out the tiny, tissue-wrapped item. The very tiny, yet surprisingly expensive, model replica of the first ship Wash had ever flown into space. The first one he’d ever flown and landed and loved. One left behind, only in memory; a memory Simon had painstakingly sought out a visual reminder of and planned to leave on the pilot’s console. An anonymous Valentine he hoped Wash would treasure. Or at least pit against the dinosaurs in moments of boredom.
“Not a doctor if you do, not healing but breaking apart. Wrecking family, not ruining this one, not letting yourself be what they said.”
He isn’t sure how she knew but as always, she already does and her warning shakes him, makes him press the gift into her palm when she reaches for it. There’s a strained smile on his face and Simon can’t seem to find the words to thank her, her warning obvious now. You’ll wreck our family…Simon’s still skeptical they are part of one, can’t trust they won’t be betrayed, but he knows River thinks they are, that she believes with every molecule in her body. And he can’t risk that, can’t carelessly knock away the anchor and happiness she’s found within the ship and crew.
Simon doesn’t want to let go of the small hope inside him, a hope that’s wilting every moment. He knows she’s right, has no doubt if he tentatively asked or acted in the way he desperately wants to, he’d get nothing but rejection. Knowing Wash, it would probably be gentle and tactful, but it would still be rejection. That obviously isn’t about to change, no matter how much Simon wants it. How much he daydreams and muses and wishes.
“It’s never going to happen.” His words are soft and he misses the dual emotions flashing in her eyes, both triumphant and sorrowful. The anxious anticipation he’d felt earlier, the left over arousal and need, has all faded, replaced by a cold feeling that churns up into his belly making him stand straighter. Making his body tense and face struggle to settle on a neutral expression as every word she’s said replays in his mind, prompting disappointment to overwhelm him, pushing him to walk away.
Simon carefully takes the ship from her, his fingers curling gently around the now bitter reminder as he bows slightly and turns away. The infirmary’s the best place for him now to be alone with his thoughts. To let the disappointment fade and hope start to rise before it’s shot down once more. To never realize the irony of what potential he could have missed out on, waiting for another year, the special day to come the next year; a day Simon will soon realize Wash will never see.
“Want you to myself, want to be selfish, be only mine.” She murmurs to herself as she watches him walk stiffly away; she doesn‘t know, can‘t know what will befall Wash. All River knows is she wants Simon for herself and, confused and muddled as her mind is, it nudges her to say the things that will bring him back to her. Make him only hers.
Closing her eyes briefly, she lets the thoughts within the ship envelop her~What’s the sound of a heart breaking?~ River thinks she knows.
Translations:
mei mei- little sister
go se-crap
Ai ya-damn