I'm not leaving my wife, Mal. Don't ask me again.

Mod Post - Affilliation request

Wed, 21 Nov 2007 01:45:02 GMT

Hi guys, I have been sent a request asking if this community would be interested in being affilliated with:

http://community.livejournal.com/jossprompts/.

It covers firefly, buffy and angel.

If anyone wants to post a comment letting me know if you like the idea or not then feel free. I'm guessing some of the members here may aleady know if this lj comm, but if not then you can go and check it out.

Fic: In the Moment

Sun, 24 Jun 2007 07:46:22 GMT

Because this comm needs some action and maybe some poking of people to write more Mal/Wash (come on people!), but mostly 'cause I'm bored, I'm posting fic. *g*

Title: In the Moment
Author: thunder_nari (or just Nari)
Rating: PG-13ish
Pairing: Ummm...Mal/Wash
Summary: Pre-series, just after Wash joins the crew. Settling in and getting close.

to my journal for the story

Fri, 06 Oct 2006 21:51:39 GMT

*pokes head up* Hey all... the lineart that I posted (that probably no one actually remembers) forever and ever and ever ago... I have finally colored it! And thus am sharing the finished product of which I am entirely too proud at the moment (note, the cockpit is all blue and hard to color! end note)

Anyway, here it be, enjoy!

(crossposted to inevitableslash, forgive the lack of html on the community name)a

Sat, 30 Sep 2006 02:09:48 GMT

Title: I’ll Take That As A Yes
Author: prehistoric_sea (aka Stacey)
Pairing: Mal/Wash
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1000
Warnings: PWP, slightly dubious consent (not non-con though)
Feedback: Makes me happy. Makes me write more.
Notes: Thanks so much to the ever-sharp lvs2read for the beta. All remaining mistakes are my own.

The slide of the bridge door snatches Wash from his reverie.

He’s bent over the instrument panel, wrapping up the 12-hour checklist. When he turns, and his eyes meet Mal’s, the familiar uncertainty passes between them instantly, crackling like an electric current.

In the late evenings, when Mal comes up on the bridge, it always goes one of two ways. The door stays open and they talk. Or Mal closes the door behind him and they don’t. Never any combination of the two.

The captain comes closer and Wash is whispering frantically to him in Chinese – there’s no one else to hear, but whispering makes him less embarrassed – now is really not a good time, he says, his tone more tense than usual. Wash seems more emphatic, for sure, but then again, they almost always go through this little song and dance. Mal figures it’s something Wash needs to do, something to do with not being sly, and he can respect that. We all got our different ways of making sense of the ‘verse after all.

But Mal ignores him, like always; Wash’s a grown man, he could stop this if really wanted. Like always, he doesn’t.

Mal kneels down between the pilot’s legs, same as always, pulling his shirt from pants and unbuttoning him – snap, snap, snap – digging in the cloth for the slit that will give him access. Mal loves the smell of him – like orangey laundry detergent and something masculine. Wash is shifting in his seat, uncomfortably or maybe excitedly. Gorramnit, Mal, just ignore me why don’t you.

Wash is soft - he’s always soft when they begin – but he seems to be pushing Mal away with more urgency than usual, which is a mite puzzling. When Mal bends over and takes Wash’s cock in his mouth, the taste hits him and it suddenly all makes sense – he’s just come from being with Zoë.

The thought stops him dead for just half a second. Wash whimpers one final protest, but Mal has long since stopped hearing him.

He’s never tasted her, not in all their years of being so close (he’d certainly offered, but that never got very far) and this first taste of her, taste of her on him, is overwhelming. His mind is flooded with images of her, how beautiful she is, of her with Wash, Wash on top of her, fucking her, then Wash on top of him, and soon it’s all melted into a general haze of lust and desire, laced with some kind of pang deep in hisstomach that he knows better than to examine too closely. Usually, it takes half a blowjob to get Mal erect, but as it is, he’s already straining against his pants.

Mal has cleaned Wash off entirely, licked and sucked each last remnant, ‘til all he tastes isskin and spit. He listens to Wash’s breathing, slow and even, as his lips and tongue coax his cock to half-mast. It takes a long time to get him there and Mal wonders how many times he’s had Zoë that evening. The thought makes his desire coil a little tighter in his gut. He pulls at the fabric, trying to get at Wash’s ball, licking the seam between them, and then rolling them around on his tongue, stroking Wash’s length all the while.

He’s got Wash fully erect now. Mal coaxes him forward in the seat a little, hearing the vinyl move beneath him. Wash’s eyes are shut tight, same as always, his head thrown back, neck bent over the top of the chair. The captain traces the small, thin vein that curls right to left along the shaft and laps gently at the tip searching for a few drops of pre-cum.

The glint of Wash’s wedding ring makes Mal a little weak – something about that on his hand turns him on so ruttin’ much – even though he wishes to god it weren’t Zoë’s - but even so, a straight man is letting him suck his cock and right now that’s all that matters.

Mal’s tongue begins to swirl over the bulbous head and he sucks in the entirety of him, feeling the push on the back of his throat. Wash never touches him; it’s an unwritten rule. It’s different in Mal’s fantasies: Wash laces his fingers through his hair, panting, MalMalMal …

As it is, the pilot’s murmuring, swearing in Chinese under his breath. He’s starting to strain against Mal, thrusting in and out of his mouth, so the wet smacking sounds start to take on a rhythm. Mal has Wash’s cock slick with spit and it glides fast and hard between his lips. His jaw hurts, but he can take it; he loves the intensity, loves knowing he’s making Wash hard, making him lose control, even though he isn’t one bit sly.

Mal can feel thigh muscles tensing under his hands. Wash’s breathing is shallow, his balls taut, and Mal is careful to keep the pace Wash has set for him, even as his thrusts become uncomfortably insistent. Finally, he’s rewarded with warm, wet bitterness on his tongue. It’s true there isn’t much, Wash must be really spent, but the trade off of knowing he’d just been with Zoë, of having that incredible intimacy with both of them, is more than worth it.

Mal slows his movements, making them progressively lighter until he knows he’s given Wash all the pleasure he possibly can. He’s careful not to swallow overly much, so there’ll be some taste left when he goes back to his bunk. When Wash pulls away slightly, Mal knows he’s finished with him, so he cleans him off slowly, gently with his tongue, savoring the last drops before Wash goes to button himself back up.

They never speak afterwards. Mal is always tempted to thank him when it’s over and he’s flush with the intensity of it all. But he always thinks better of it and just turns to go. He heads back to his bunk to replay the scene over again in his mind and take things in hand, not daring to turn and see if Wash’s eyes follow him, or if the pilot’s chair has already turned back toward the stars.

Hello

Tue, 08 Aug 2006 16:09:35 GMT

Just thought I'd post that I've been put as the new mod for the comm. Let me know if there's anything you guys would like me to do.

I was going to archive the fic into the memories section, anything else, let me know.

Thanks.

Fri, 04 Aug 2006 05:12:31 GMT

Would anyone like to have moderation of this community? I don't post here anymore and am not very interested anymore. If someone wants it I'll turn over ownership, otherwise I'll probably delete it.

Fri, 02 Jun 2006 04:46:33 GMT

Title: More Fun Than the Toy
Author: Mel
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I OWN THEM. Mmm, slavery.
Characters: Alan Tudyk, Nathan Fillion, mention of Adam Baldwin
Pairing: Alanathan (tho its all... domesticy and not kissy :P sorry)
Summary: just a little drabbly breakfast fun.
Author's Notes: I found it this morning, and had myself a giggly time with my cereal. Also, I know that this is a character pairing community, but... I want to spread the possible Alan/Nathan love and see if there are others out there that love them as much as I do. ^^; So, er, no yelling please?

Alan was not what people often referred to as a "morning person". He'd punched his snooze alarm maybe ten times before Nathan had finally stormed back in the room and yanked the covers off him, sick of hearing the damned beeping every ten minutes while he showered, dressed, and went had his obligatory "staying pretty" jog on the treadmill.

"Get the hell up already!" he yelled in low tones, watching Alan recoil against the colder room temperature. He wasn't angry, just reallyreally annoyed.

"Christ! Nate!"

"Its nearly ten, Al. Get up or you're eating breakfast by yourself," he threatened, pulling the blanket the rest of the way off the bed so he couldn't just grab and go back to sleeping. Alan groaned in protest, but sat up with an exaggerated stretch after a moment, listening to Nathan go on about sending the alarm clock through the garbage disposal. He ran a hand over his barely-stubbled face to wake himself up a little more, then headed out toward the kitchen.

"What's for breakfast?" he asked, doing a little hop-jump routine to the table as his warm feet touched the cold tile floor of the kitchen and jolted him awake.

"You've got a choice between three, oh - no, four different cold cereals," Nathan informed him, smirking from just behind the glass cupboard door. Alan groaned again - his 'I woke up for this?' groan - and rubbed the rest of the sleep out of his eyes.

"Anything not made of wheat," he told him, then stood back up to fetch the milk carton while Nathan set the table and poured the cereal. They sat again after Nathan poured them both coffee as well, and Alan had habitually drowned his corn flakes in sugar.

Chewing on a spoonful almost too big for his mouth, Alan stared off into space, directed at the back of the cereal box. As he swallowed, he screwed his face up in concentration at what he was looking at. He reached out and took the box, looking at it more closely. "Well look who we have here," he chuckled, dropping his spoon as he flipped the box around and pointed to the little picture of the DVD cover they were selling as free with five proofs of purchase plus shipping and handling mailed in. Nathan stopped chewing as he focused on the small picture of Adam from My Bodyguard, then broke out into a fit of giggles.

"You know what we have to do, don't you?"

"Buy it and laugh our asses off?"

"And then have him sign it," Nathan smirked, the both of them collapsing into more giggles.

(crossposted to firefly_rps and inevitableslash)

Waking Up by Georgina Copeland (Wash/Mal, NC-17)

Tue, 28 Mar 2006 19:36:49 GMT

Hi there!

*Waves*

I'm a newbie and I come bearing porn-shaped gifts...a link to the one and only piece of slash fic I've ever managed to finish. It's Wash/Mal of course. Uhmmmmm...hope you enjoy.

TITLE: Waking Up
AUTHOR: Georgina Copeland (aka Boo...aka Gedrinelf...aka Elf...the list goes on. What? My real name is dorky. Too many syllables!)
PAIRINGS: Wash/Mal
RATING: NC-17
SUMMARY/WARNINGS: PWP. Mild non-consensual/BDSM. Contains the usual boy-sex cliches. Un-beta'd.
DISCLAIMER: The usual...just playing with 'em Joss!

Link to my LJ...!

new layout

Thu, 16 Mar 2006 07:54:01 GMT

Thanks to the lovely rinalin, we have a new layout! It's just gorgeous. I can stare at it all day. *sigh* Hahahaha. Anyway, I love it, but I don't know how to make the table width to be as big as the picture (at least, not on Firefox). Anyone know how? I'd love to make it line up.

Anyway, enjoy. :D

Fanfic: Problems (1/1), Mal/Wash, PG-13

Fri, 24 Feb 2006 06:43:44 GMT

This is my first Firefly fic EVER so I'm really very nervous about posting this outside my journal. I typically stick to icons/graphics and the like (also, I'm a civil engineering major so the fact that I wrote is ... strange LOL but I just adore Firefly and I was attacked by a particularly rabid plot bunny) I hope everyone likes it!

Title: Problems (1/1)
Author: oronena
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Mal and Wash (um, duh?) with blink-and-you-miss-'em cameos by Kaylee and Bester
Pairings: Mal/Wash
Summary: Mal's captainy problems lead him to the bridge to have a word (well, several) with Wash
Word count: 482
Warnings: Spoilers for "Out of Gas" Also, never fall asleep in class if you're sitting in the front row. It gets awkward. Finally - leave this writing thing to the professionals.
Disclaimer: I don't own them (damn!) so no suing me for I am THE definition of "poor college student". I'm just playing around in Joss' sandbox for a bit. Wacky fun ...
Notes: Un-beta'd so beware (goofs are the fault of ... that person over there! *points and runs off*). This is dedicated to vandonovan who gave me the little nudge I needed awhile ago to be a Mal/Wash shipper and who just wouldn't give up with prodding me to post this in public.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Mal watched as Bester's "prairie harpy" happily bounded out of the engine room. He heard Bester ask "Whaddya need two mechanics for?"

"I really don't," Mal said as he walked out of the engine room. He was somewhat relieved that it looked like they actually stood a chance of getting off the rock they had been stuck on for one very long week, assuming their pilot didn't shake them all to death upon take-off again. Mal did have another problem nagging away at him that stemmed from what he had just been through, and so he walked through the kitchen and out toward the bridge to have a word, or several, with Wash.

When he looked in on the bridge Wash was nowhere in sight. What Mal did see was one of his garish Hawaiian shirts draped over the back of the pilot chair. He looked down at the tangle of wires near the yoke and noticed a pair of legs in a drab green flightsuit sticking out from under the console.

Mal crouched down and placed one hand on Wash's right leg. A surprised yelp and the clattering of a tool hitting the metal floor caused Mal to smile for the first time since before they were grounded. Wash scooted out from under the console, one hand to his head and angrily looked toward the cause of his forming headache. The look quickly vanished when he noticed Mal smiling at him.

"Thought you might like to know we have ourselves a new mechanic."

Wash rubbed at the sore spot on his head. "Any chance of you finding a less painful way to tell me things? And just how did you find a new mechanic on this rock?"

Mal shifted a little and was about to answer when he noticed something different about Wash. "You finally shaved that lip ferret off."

Wash smirked and leaned up against the console. "Yep, found someone didn't much enjoy the 'stache when we kissed."

"That so? Smart person, whoever told you that. Now if only the Hawaiian shirts could stay off of you. Also improves the sight some." Wash snorted at the latest image change request and was about to reply but stopped when Mal gently gripped his arms.

"I assume the closed door means we're doing this here again. You do realize we're sitting amongst the innards of this console? Wires ... the things I had been working on before I banged my head because someone just had-" He let out a small moan as Mal started kissing his neck. "Never mind ... pilot's chair works just fine by me."

"Wash?"

"Yes Mal?"

"Shouldn't you be doing something? Got a bit of a problem here needs seeing to ..."

All thoughts of wires and technical mishaps soon melted away, forgotten and buried under a jumble of shirts, a flightsuit and a pair of tight pants.

Fanart: Mal/Wash

Sun, 12 Feb 2006 04:12:01 GMT

I have manga-style Mal/Wash shinies for to share! That's right, they're makin' out on the bridge. SqueeeEEEE! 'tis only the lineart right now, as I'm not sure when I'll get the chance to color it, but I thought I'd post and share anyway.

(crossposted to inevitableslash, if my attention span holds out long enough to do it)

One Last Cry

Thu, 09 Feb 2006 07:54:02 GMT

I made a Mal/Wash music video, hahahaha. Fear me!

Vid Title: [One Last Cry]
Artist: Brian McKnight
Vidder: Van Donovan
Duration: 2:50
Character/Pairing: Mal/Wash (some Zoe/Wash)
Episodes: All + movie
Size: 50MB, high quality
Format: AVI
Summary: I'm very fond of the uncommon pairing Mal/Wash, so I made this video in tribute to an unrequited love, by Mal. I think though, that you could view this simply as a Mal-missing-Wash sort of video, too.
Notes: This is my first real video. I tweaked it a lot from a beta version I posted to my journal a while ago, but I'm aware it still needs some work. I'm rather "over" this video though and just want to move on. I may, someday, go back and edit this further, but for right now I'm happy as-is, and would rather start a new project. Still, if you have critique-like comments as to formatting/execution/framing, etc. please feel free to share, as I'm eager to learn. Thanks goes out to my betas, randominity and phantasmrose.
Warning: presented as a slash video (male/male romance). Uses footage from Serenity the movie, although nothing particularlly spoilerish.

(crossposted to fireflywaves)

New Pilot

Tue, 07 Feb 2006 19:05:48 GMT

The other day I did drabble requests in my journal, and oronena requested Mal/Wash with the prompts: bridge/pilot's chair and sex. Here's the story that came from that. You've seen it if you've got me friended, but I thought I ought to crosspost here.

Title: New Pilot
Author: Van Donovan
Pairing: Mal/Wash
Rating: R
Word Count: 665
Warning: slash, pre-series
Summary: Mal explores his new pilot. *ahem*

New Pilot
(Mal/Wash)
(5 February 2006)

He stepped onto the bridge and was a little amused to find the pilot chair occupied. It made him smile as he approached from behind and draped his arm across the back of the seat. “So, new pilot, huh?” he questioned in a slow drawl. “Pretty good looking fellow, if you ask me. Smart, too, don’t you think?”

The chair swiveled, revealing a smirking Mal. He studied Wash for several seconds. “Could say he’s all right on the eyes. Not so sure about smart, though. Ain’t seen him much in action, yet.”

“Oh, he’ll surprise you,” Wash replied jovially. “He was pretty much top in his class, you know. He’s very good in action. Even better under pressure.”

Mal arched an eyebrow and his smile turned slightly devious. “That so?”

“It’s a fact, in fact,” Wash answered coolly. He met Mal’s eyes for a few seconds before he shrugged, and turned toward the console. “There a problem?”

“Mm?” Mal looked away from Wash, and followed his hands. “Problem?”

“Yeah. You’re in my chair,” he plainly noted. “There a reason for that?”

Mal laughed. “My boat,” he replied. “My chair.”

“Yes, perhaps so,” Wash agreed. “But seeing as how I’m the shiny new pilot, it follows that the pilot’s chair would therefore belong to me.”

Mal leaned back in the chair and nodded, considering this. “Well, that is an interesting theory.”

Wash rolled his eyes, but grinned. “Well, it can be my chair even if you don’t leave.” He turned around and promptly sat down in Mal’s lap. “Mmm, it’s quite cushy now, actually.” He wriggled about on Mal’s thighs a bit and then leaned back into him. “Like it’s got a new cushion on it or something.”

Mal protested the weight, at first, but eventually sighed and wrapped his arms around Wash’s waist from behind. He rested his cheek against Wash’s back. When he spoke, his voice was softer. “How did a guy as disrespectful to his captain as you end up top in his class? It just don’t make sense.”

Wash put one hand over Mal’s, holding them in place. Then he twisted around enough that his mouth was in range of Mal’s. He didn’t kiss him though, just got close and wriggled his mustache up against his head, tickling. “Maybe I slept my way to the top?”

One of Mal’s hands broke free of Wash’s waist and went exploring, dropping over his abdomen to cup tentatively at his crotch. He ducked away from Wash’s bothersome mustache as the man groaned, and put his mouth against Wash’s neck. “Thinkin’ maybe that’s more the case.”

“Bu que shi,” Wash breathed thickly. “It ain’t true, captain,” he repeated. “Never slept with any of my superior officers before.” His grip on Mal’s other hand loosened.

Mal lifted his mouth from where he was gently suckling on the soft curve of Wash’s neck. “’Til now,” he prompted and gave a possessive squeeze.

“Ngmmn.” Wash was already breathing heavier. “Until now,” he agreed. He started to sit up, to pull the chair off of its recline. “We doing this on the bridge again?” he throatily asked.

Mal’s freed hand snaked up Wash’s chest to find the zipper of his flight suit, and began tugging it open. “Don’t see no reason not to,” he hotly answered against the damp spot now on Wash’s neck

“Good,” Wash murmured. He twisted around in Mal’s lap. “Don’t think my legs’d make it to my bunk at this rate.” He captured Mal’s mouth in his own, kissing him roughly.

Mal swiveled the chair around until he could push Wash up against the yoke for purchase, and then kissed him back forcefully. Mal’s hands easily shed the clothes off Wash’s torso, allowing his fingers to comb wantonly over Wash’s flat stomach and up through his fine smattering of golden chest hair.

Around them the ship was cold and perfectly silent, but for their heavy breathing. Together, they found a spark of warmth, and ignited it.

ficlet...drabble.... thing?

Mon, 06 Feb 2006 04:04:25 GMT

Title: Close the Door
Author: Littlestyo
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Mal/Wash
Summary: short. pointless. snuggly.
notes: crossposted to inevitableslash

"Mal, I don't think--"
"Shut up, Wash." There was fumbling, the sound of a zipper.
"But Zoe--" Mal's lips effectively silenced his less than convincing protests, tongue sliding almost possessively into the pilot's mouth. He smirked into the kiss as Wash's arms slid around him and held tight. When he abandoned Wash's mouth for a moment's exploration of throat, collar, jawline, the pilot bit back a groan and took an unsteady breath.
"God, Mal, at least close the door!"
Mal pulled away just far enough to humor the request, flailing at the air behind him until his hand found the button to seal the bunk, holding Wash's gaze steadily all the while.
A beat passed.
Another.
It was a dare. Mal was waiting for him to make the next move. Wash didn't want to let him win that easily. He didn't want to concede defeat to the playful smirk shining out of his captain's eyes.
He managed to let another moment pass before he crumbled utterly. Swearing, a swallowed string of Chinese profanity low in his throat, he set his hands none too gently on either side of Mal's head and pulled the smirking face close enough to reclaim lips and tongue and warmth.
When the captain's hand snuck down past the waistband of his flightsuit, he lost all semblance of conscious thought. And a little later, snuggled securely against his captain's side in an efficiently rumpled bed, he found himself wondering briefly just how thick Serenity's walls were.
He started at the low chuckle that reverberated through Mal's body.
"What?" Wash demanded, grip around Mal's body tightening slightly.
"Zoe's gonna be pissed."
"No shit," he snuggled a little closer, "But you're not blaming me this time. You're the one that got all impatient. I tried to tell you not to start without her."
A few minutes of snuggle filled silence.
"Reckon we'll find a way to make it up to her. Leastwise to make her want to kill us a little less."
"That we will, Captain-man, sir."

THE END

Sun, 05 Feb 2006 19:26:46 GMT

'kay, this is part new and part not... it's what I actually drew the second (more snuggly) chibis FOR, and I got it done today instead of doing the piles of things real life supposedly requires I finish. Pshaw, who has time for real life when there're CHIBIS to be colored?

Mal/Wash Drabble "Blackout"

Sun, 05 Feb 2006 14:40:51 GMT

Mal/Wash prompt from promptsomeslash. Prompt was "blackout"
PG, Apocalypsish angstyness for the guys.

(Blackout)

Chibis iz crack!

Fri, 03 Feb 2006 20:04:55 GMT

I have fanart! Fair warning, they're chibis and thus small, cute and pointless. But, much as I love drawing chibis for their own sake, I did these mostly to see if I could manage to do anime-style character designs of Wash and Mal. Because I want to draw fanart of them, but realism and I... we don't get along unless I have excessive hours to dedicate.

So I think my mission was a success, and I'm gonna try a) to fiddle with some of the other characters as well and b) to do some normal-sized Mal/Wash fanart. I've got at least two images in my head to play with already (though no guarantees on efficiency... *sheepish grin*)

Oh right, the pictures:

and

(actually not all that thrilled with how this one turned out... it's rare that I have this much issue with proportion when it involves chibis, but well... still think it's cute enough, and it's definitely snugglier than the other one, so I'm posting it anyway)

#26 - 50

Thu, 19 Jan 2006 11:06:54 GMT

Well, as usual, this turned out different than I planned. Ultimately, I think it's better but it's different. This is the second half of my 1sentence challenge. (Sentences #1-25 can be found [here]). These 25 are from Wash's POV but they are a separate "story" than the one I told in the first 25. :) Hope that makes sense.

Title: Dreaming of Belief
Author: Van Donovan
Pairing: Mal/Wash (implied Wash/Zoe)
Word Count: 1,122
Rating: PG-13
Notes: no movie spoilers although the first 25 have movie spoilers, written for 1sentence: Mal/Wash. Crossposted to 1sentence and inevitableslash.
#1 - 25 can be found here.

#26 – Goodbye – Wash hadn’t said goodbye to Zoe when he left to do the job and he regretted it, but he was glad that if he had to die at the hands of Niska he’d at least have Mal by his side.

#27 – Hide – He knew Niska was going to take Mal’s ear (or worse), as soon as the old man started talking about refunds; but after being tortured half to death beside Mal, he couldn’t stand to watch, so he hid his head behind the door and cried at his own weakness when Mal screamed.

#28 – Fortune – It was love – Mal’s and Zoe’s -- that had gotten him through the torture at Niska’s Skyplex alive; he was determined to see that Niska wasn’t so fortunate.

#29 – Safe – Safe on the shuttle again, held in Zoe’s arms, Wash felt his pains and fears ebb away as he remembered Mal screaming, and the way the captain had kept him awake so he wouldn’t succumb to the torture; something inside of him changed regarding Mal in that moment.

#30 – Ghost – When they got him back, Mal was sheet white and looked deathly but for the angry red welts and blood splatters on his chest; when he walked, supported by Zoe and Simon, he seemed to drift and stumble like a drunken ghost, and Wash found it made his heart ache to see.

#31 – Book – Mal had never been easy to read -- he wasn’t an open book like Wash was -- but seeing him lying bruised and broken in the infirmary, yet keeping an ever vigilant eye on his pilot confirmed everything Wash had ever suspected.

#32 – Eye – Mal’s eyes were the deepest dark blue Wash had ever seen, and he figured they were such a deep color because they held behind them such deep secrets; recovering in the infirmary together after their ordeal, Wash swore to himself that he’d venture into their depths someday soon, and learn to swim therein.

#33 – Never – Since he had met her, Wash had never kept anything important from Zoe, but these feelings for Mal that were blossoming inside him he kept to himself.

#34 – Sing – It was a strange thing to think, that any good would come out of almost being tortured to death, but when Mal regained consciousness after the Dermal-Mender repaired his ear, Wash’s heart began to sing in a way that could only be classified as composed from pure joy.

#35 – Sudden – The way Wash found himself now thinking of his captain was sudden, but he could tell that his feelings weren’t unfounded and that, most likely, Mal even wanted to reciprocate them and never had because Wash was so very married, and Mal respected that.

#36 – Stop – A few days after their rescue, Wash stopped Mal in the corridor with just the look in his eyes and a soft, welcoming smile.

#37 – Time – The second time he stopped Mal in the corridor he did it by lightly brushing against him as they passed; conflicted, Mal looked back over his shoulder at him and Wash did the same, smirking knowingly back at him as he continued his path in the opposite direction.

#38 – When Mal found him out washing dishes alone one night after everyone else had gone to sleep, he just silently came up beside him, put his hands into the soapy water and never said a thing as their fingers slipped along and brushed together as they cleaned.

#39 – Torn – Wash thought he’d be torn between being loyal to Zoe and wanting Mal, but when the dishes were rinsing under the faucet, he turned like it was second nature, and just captured Mal’s mouth in his own.

#40 – History – Wash had a history of getting caught kissing Zoe in relatively inappropriate places and he didn’t want to ruin this if Kaylee accidentally walked by; pulling apart slowly from Mal, he nodded meaningfully toward the crew quarters.

#41 – Power – Wash had always assumed being captain of Serenity was a power trip for Mal, but when he had undressed him and saw him yieldingly laid out on the captain’s bed, scars and bruises tracing up his body like fancy lattice work, he knew in a heartbeat it was a title he struggled with, and probably resented most days.

#42 – Bother – They kissed and made love in the soft light of the overhead lamp, not because Wash didn’t want to bother turning off the lamp, but because he wanted to see and memorize every single aspect of Mal’s body this one time.

#43 – God – Wash knew Mal was not a man of faith but, clinging to him that night, covered in a sheen of sweat and barely able to breath, Mal kept moaning to God and, in the end, Wash thought maybe he’d found Him again, if just for a moment.

#44 – Wall – During the day there was a wall between Mal and the rest of the world, a wall he never let down for anyone, but that night Wash saw to the core of his captain, stared into his deep blue eyes and found he didn’t want to swim there after all: he wanted to drown.

#45 – Naked – Afterward, they cuddled in a way that Wash hadn’t ever imagined they could: Mal curled into him tightly, and he stroked the captain’s hair gently and listened to him murmur words of thanks over and over; Wash bet no one had ever seen Mal so naked and vulnerable before.

#46 – Drive – The beauty of that night was the pure lack of a malicious motivational drive behind it: Mal did not want Wash for his own, or to break up his marriage to Zoe; Wash did not want to cheat on his wife; it was simply a need for love and compassion being filled in the most open way.

#47 – Harm – Wash stayed that night with Mal, watching over him to make sure his dreams didn’t harm him; for the first time in years, Mal slept without fear.

#48 – Precious – Wash recognized how precious the moment they were sharing was and he wondered, even if he had a capture of them together, if it could ever be recorded.

#49 – Hunger – In the morning, when Mal awoke and looked up at him and smiled in relief like he’d thought the previous night had only been a dream, Wash saw a fresh hunger growing in Mal’s eyes: he’d found a new zest in life.

#50 – Believe – They left Mal’s bunk and Wash went back to his wife without a single regret because he knew that he had saved Mal, and looking at Mal he could tell the captain believed in life again.

warm embrace

Thu, 19 Jan 2006 09:50:14 GMT

I defragged my computer today and while I waited for it to finish, I sketched this up. It was all crooked and on the corner of the paper, hence the weird um, layout for it. I didn't have much refference for either Mal or Wash, so that's why they look sort of funky. Still, I think it's similar enough to say it's them. :)

Mal/Wash is so underappreciated. :)
Enjoy, hah.

(Click to enlarge)

(Crossposted to fireflyslash)

Fic: Distracted (Mal/Wash, PG-13)

Wed, 18 Jan 2006 14:55:51 GMT

Title: Distracted
Pairing: Mal/Wash
Rating: PG-13
Words: 5938
Summary: Mal flicks on his best smile – his recruiting smile – and holds out his hand. AU.
Notes: I never thought I'd write Mal/Wash. I never thought I'd slash Wash at all. But it was fun! vandonovan somewhat instigated this. Pre-series timeline.

When Mal first meets the potential pilot, he's distracted by the ugly shirt and the uglier moustache. They leave him staring for a moment, until the guy clears his throat and looks nervously at Zoe before refocusing on Mal. "Um. Hi."

Mal flicks on his best smile – his recruiting smile, the one he's used in all kinds of circumstances – and holds out his hand. "Mal Reynolds. You the guy I've been hearin' about?"

That gets him a smile in return, enough that it almost makes him overlook the shirt. But not the moustache. Some men can carry something like that. Monty's one of them – Mal ain't, and nor is this guy. But Mal doesn't rightly care one way or another about grooming habits if Hoban Washburne has half the skills he's heard out on the street.

"Yep. So," Washburne rubs his hands together, "do I get a look inside?"

"Sure do," Mal says, and leads in him, up the stairs, and into the cockpit. It's still a rat's nest inside – things are in pieces and scattered about, though Bester says it's all fixable. Mal had wanted things more in working order when he started interviewing pilots, but maybe it ain't all bad. It's a good sign if the pilot knows how to put things together, how to look past the pieces and see the potential.

The potential that Zoe still ain't sure is there. He can see it on her face whenever she walks the length of the ship, kicking aside bits of rubble. His other clue is that she's always muttering about him being mostly insane to go and buy this particular ship. But sometimes he sees her smiling too, when he ain't supposed to be looking. So he takes the muttering in stride.

Right now, Washburne is making all kinds of muttering noises himself, poking behind consoles, and picking up pieces, looking at them, and putting them back down. Mal feels himself tensing up. This ain't the first pilot he'd interviewed.

First one had taken one look at the cockpit, turned around, and walked right back out. Second one's eyes hadn't seemed quite right – unbalanced, Zoe whispered in his ear – and he ain't so insane that he wants a pilot who doesn't entirely live in the world. Daring, sure. Moon-brained? That ain't in the plan.

Washburne is the third one, and this ain't exactly a planet full of pilots looking to ship out with a couple of former Independents.

So, something releases inside of him when Washburne turns, a big grin on his face, and says, "This is all very doable."

He doesn't commit to the job right away, but Mal figures he will. Serenity pulls people in like that. There's something about her – Firefly class has always been popular, out on the edge, but this particular ship, she's got something special. Mal can see it. He knows Washburne can too.

He nods, tells Washburne to take his time looking around, and leaves. He's got a mechanic to pester.

Later, he comes back to the cockpit, and Washburne is just sitting on the pilot's chair, looking out at the sky. His hands are clasped behind his head, and he's whistling a little. "Comfy?" Mal asks.

Washburne turns to him, grinning like an idiot. "I think so."

Mal slips his hands into his pockets, and says, "So, Hoban –"

"Wash."

"Huh?"

"Call me Wash."

And Mal knows he doesn't have to ask the question. Wash is taking the job.

*

The first time Mal really looks at his pilot, beyond someone who'll get them flying and who lands using the smallest possible fuel margin, it's when Wash shaves off the rutting moustache.

Mal can really look at him now, because he doesn't feel like laughing every time he does.

It's just him in the kitchen, late at night, when Wash wanders in. "Shouldn't you be piloting?" Mal asks, not looking up. He already recognizes Wash's particular footfalls.

"Just coming in for something to drink."

Mal gets back to polishing his guns, listening to the homey sounds of tea being made. When Wash comes and sits across from him, he looks up, nods, and then stares. Just for a minute. "You seem to be missin' somethin'."

Wash grins, rubbing his hand across his top lip. "Do I look less dangerous?"

Mal starts to laugh. "You looked dangerous before?" Though without the moustache, he looks a little more open. More honest, if that were even possible.

Wash momentarily looks hurt, but he laughs too. "Yeah, I guess I knew it wasn't really working. But it was worth a try." He gestures at Mal's guns, and says, "Is it mannerly to have your guns out on the dinner table?"

"It ain't a dinner table if there ain't guns. Thought I'd made that clear back when you signed on."

Grinning, Wash nods, saying, "I guess I knew that too."

*

Everyone has a story. Mal knows Zoe's, she knows his. Bester's ain't hard to figure – running from a girl who happened to have the wrong family, at the wrong time. But Wash keeps quiet about his past.

Pilot school, Mal knows that much. And that ain't exactly unusual, though a lot of crews run with a pilot who just picked things up along the way, or who started pilot school, dropped out, and found the first job that came along.

Wash graduated second in his class, and Mal can't figure why he wasn’t approached by the Alliance. They're always looking for people to fly out on the rim. Contractor-type folk who run errands and get paid, but without the uniform. A guy with Wash's skills could have hooked up with something more respectable, more steady, than Mal's line of work.

Or maybe he was approached by the Feds, and he just doesn't talk about it. It ain't really any of Mal's business, and he doesn't expect his crew to talk about their pasts, or what they're running from. As long as they don't cross him, he's more or less happy.

But still, Wash is puzzling. He ain't Core folk, but he ain't like Mal either. His language ain't fancy, not like the new Companion they've got shipping out with them. But he ain't rough either; he's no backberth from the edge of town on a grubby moon. He tells stories about the places he's been, but he doesn't say how he got there. He has contact with people Mal's never even heard about. People who know things. People who can find things out.

He smiles too much. No one Mal's ever known smiles that much.

It all leaves Mal thinking, some nights. Just wondering.

*

When he finds himself a new mechanic – rutting Bester was a waste of space – he comes to see that there are even folk who smile more than Wash. He shows Kaylee around the ship, and she doesn't stop smiling and asking questions the whole time. Points out problems too, problems he didn't even know they had.

He wonders if her jaw gets sore, all that grinning and chattering.

Later, after she says they're fit to liftoff, after they've been in the black a good long while, he finds the two of them holed up in the cockpit.

"—sure, they're hooked up to the capacitors," she's saying, balancing on the edge of the control boards, "but they ain't really all that important, you gotta –"

"You're insane!" Wash yells, but his face says otherwise. He's grinning like a crazy man. If she's insane, so's he.

"No I ain't. If you just cross the lines around the regulator," her hands cross each other, and her fingers wiggle, "you improve engine efficiency. Seen it before, lots of times. Means you use less fuel. Every two-bit mechanic knows that."

"Listen, missy, you're pretty and cute,"

She beams at him.

"but I've been trained. In a school! You do that, we'll be drifting in an hour. If we're lucky."

She pushes herself away from her perch, and leans close to Wash, grinning. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

Stepping back, she puts her hands on her hips and says, "So how come we're still flyin'? 'Cause I went and did that soon as I got settled." She pauses. "Hours ago."

Wash throws up his hands, laughing. "You're insane!"

"You think so?" She winks at him.

Wash looks over, and sees Mal standing just outside the doorway. "Captain! You've gone and hired a crazy person! We're all at her mercy. I predict we have a week, at best, before –"

Kaylee whacks him on the shoulder, and that shuts him up, though he's still grinning a little wildly.

Something twists in Mal's gut, seeing the two of them together. They just met, but already they're making some sort of eyes at each other. Shouldn't bother him, but it does.

He should say something about crew relations, and how they ain't kosher, but he just doesn't have it in him. There's too much smiling going on, and the girl's already cut their fuel usage by three percent. So instead, he says, "I got poor judgment when it comes to picking out my crew." He looks at her, and says, "You see the pilot I got? Don't know what I was thinkin'."

"Hey!" Wash says, and reaches for one of the gorram dinosaur toys he insists on cluttering up the cockpit with. "I'm armed! I'm dangerous!"

Mal smirks, and walks away. Behind him, he can hear the girl giggling, and Wash muttering about insanity and asinine captains.

*

It happens after a job goes particularly sour. Zoe takes it into her head to jump in front of a bullet aimed at him. Her armour ain't enough to stop the bullet, or the ones that follow. They were lucky – Inara used her contacts to find a doctor who wouldn't ask too many questions, and who wasn't too good to come and treat folk like them. Mal had watched while he operated. He took in the blood, the bullets, Zoe not breathing for almost too long. At the end of it the doctor had looked up. "That's the best I can do. She'll live."

He leaves detailed instructions about post-op care, and the medicines he's leaving. Painkillers ever five hours, for the first 48 hours. Easy to inject. Watch for infection. That sort of thing, like Mal doesn't know the basics of field medicine. Like he hasn't watched people get shot before.

After paying the doc, after the clean up, after the medication, after he gets a chance to sit down and breathe and think, he applies himself to getting stinking drunk. He makes sure Kaylee and Inara are up to watching after Zoe. He maybe needs not to think for a few hours, but he knows he's got to set up everything right first.

He sits himself down in the lounge, and hits the first bottle he could find. Thinks about how he needs to maybe hire another gun hand, because the 'verse is starting to piss him off even more than usual. More than it has in a long while.

Wash finds him. "We're locked up for the night, Captain. Nice and cozy."

Nodding, he hands over the bottle.

"She okay?"

Mal nods again, because he doesn't have to say anything. Wash knows as good as the rest of them that Zoe will live.

"You okay?"

He ain't in the mood for talking. Gesturing at the bottle, Mal says, "If you're gonna talk instead of drink, hand that back over."

Wash takes a long drink, grimaces, and passes it back. He stays with Mal, keeps drinking, but somehow, that doesn't shut him up. It makes him chattier; goes on and on about this and that, nothing that matters, until he says, "Zoe doesn't much like me."

Shrugging, Mal says, "Zoe don't much like anyone. It's her way. She ain't shot you yet, so she don't hate you. That's enough."

"Be better if she didn't die, though."

That's the biggest gorram understatement he's heard in years. Since the very first Unification Day. Maybe. Mal grunts. "You got no ruttin' idea."

Then it's back to drinking for a space, while Wash talks and Mal half-listens.

"And in pilot school, you know how it is –"

gets followed by,

" – and I swear to god, she was so angry that we all starting running and we didn't stop until Hiram –"

A little later, Mal tunes in again, and Wash is sputtering a little as he talks, "— geese, they make cute sounds, and we eat them, and feather beds and everything, but really, juggling seems a little extreme, if you get my –"

And Mal's really had enough of talking. He gets up, a little unsteady on his feet. It ain't just from the drinking. It's relief and everything coming down, hitting him hard all at once. He goes to check on Zoe.

Kaylee's sitting by her side, and she smiles at Mal. "She's good. Breathing real steady," and Mal nods his thanks, and heads back to the lounge and his bottle. He figures Wash will have taken the hint and moved on, but when he gets back, Wash is still there, slouched back on the couch, bottle held in a loose grip.

His head's bent back, and Mal stares at the curve of his throat for a minute. It ain't that he's been looking at Wash. Not actively. He's noticed him a few times, thought about maybe suggesting – but he's never quite done it. Lots of reasons not to.

He's listing the reasons in his head when Wash looks up and over, eyes not quite focused, and his smile a little wavy around the edges. "She doing fine?"

Mal nods. "She don't go down easy."

"Don't imagine she does."

There's a pause, because Mal knows he wants to say something, but he ain't quite sure what. As Wash holds up the bottle, though, Mal says, "Kaylee."

He stops.

"Yeah? What about her?"

He clears his throat. "Kaylee says we're makin' a racket."

Wash stops smiling. His expression turns serious. "Not good for patients."

"Nope."

Pushing himself up, Wash nods. "Yeah. Okay. It's late anyway. Better go and get some –"

Mal talks right over him. "So I was thinkin' we should move it somewhere else."

Wash's grin comes back. "Yeah? Didn't think you were interested in –" He cuts himself off, and just says, "Yeah. Sounds good. Where to?"

"My bunk?"

The grin gets wider, though Mal wouldn't have thought it possible. "That might do."

*

It's been a while for Mal. Not for Wash, he figures.

"What?" Wash asks, when Mal says something to that effect.

"Kaylee," Mal answers, taking another drink and handing the bottle back over. His boots are already off, tossed in a corner.

Wash starts laughing. "Kaylee?"

"I seen you two together."

"Maybe you want to get your eyes checked, Captain."

Huh. "So –"

"And what? You think I'm sleeping with Kaylee, so I'll sleep with you?" He glares, but it's as fake as any of Inara's love affairs. "I am not a man of loose virtue!"

Right. "I figured you and Kaylee maybe had had some fun. Back when she first came onboard. Sorry I got you wrong. I'm guessing you'll be wanting to keep your clothes on, then?" He'd been in the process of pulling suspenders off his own shoulders, but he hauls them back up.

"No, no, don't get me –"

"'cause I ain't gonna be the one to go and spoil your purity –"

"Hey now! That isn't what I'm saying here –"

Reaching out, he takes the bottle from Wash's hand. "Think maybe drinkin' ain't good for you none either. Might give you thoughts. Thoughts that ain't full of virtue." He keeps his expression serious for about as long as he can, but it doesn't last. He can feel the smirk coming through.

"I have no virtue."

Mal laughs. "Huh. You don't say?" He maybe wants to push Wash a little more, draw out the taunting, but then Wash starts unbuttoning his god awful shirt, and Mal just gets distracted.

He gets distracted by Wash's mouth, smiling over at him.

*

He intends it to be a one night thing. Wash has other ideas. Gorram pushy pilots.

"Drunk was fun. Next time, let's be sober." Wash says the next morning, when by all rights, he should already be up and dressed and out of Mal's bunk. Mal himself is up and dressed, already having checked on Zoe.

Twice.

"No next times," he says, but Wash doesn't seem to hear.

Mal had come back to his bunk the second time, aiming at cleaning up, but Wash was still there. He's bleary-eyed, just a little, and his hair is sticking up every which way. He looks like he's all set to call Mal's bed home.

"Don't you have piloting to do?" He asks it just to say something.

"What? No good morning coffee? No 'How are you, honey? Was it good for you?'" Wash stretches, his smile lop-sided. "We're leaving now? Don't you want to wait, make sure that Zoe is –"

Mal shrugs and crosses his arms over his chest. "Inara's got an appointment. We got a job waiting. Can't be lazing around all day."

Wash pushes himself up, and stands. "Ow. Head," he says, rubbing at his temples.

"Piloting," Mal responds, tapping his foot.

"Slave driver," Wash mutters, pulling on his pants. Mal smirks, but Wash doesn't see. Finally, he's dressed, and muttering still, but now it's about a quick bath. As he climbs up the ladder – Mal watches his ass, though he wouldn't admit it if Wash asked – he says, "Next time I want coffee. Or tea. Or something, before I get kicked out of bed."

Next time. "Ain't gonna be a next time!" Mal yells. Shouldn't have been a first time, though he ain't going to say he didn't enjoy himself. Still. Fun doesn't mean it's got to be repeated.

But Wash is yelling back, "You keep telling yourself that, Captain!"

*

Wash fights a little dirty. Mal should've known.

He and Kaylee work together, trimming another four percent off fuel-usage rates. When Wash tells him, he smiles the entire time. Licks his lips, and no way does Mal believe that's just because they're dry.

He's always smiling. And he wears the shirt, the ugly green and blue and yellow shirt from that night. Every time Mal sees it, it offends his eyes, and he wants to yell at Wash to just take it right off.

There's contact. Unnecessary contact. Wash brushes up against him as he walks by; he pats Mal on the back when a job goes well – hell, even when it doesn't – and lets his hand linger, slide down a little.

It ain't right.

Worst of all, him and Kaylee are cooking something up between them. The third time Mal walks into a room to find them together, heads pressed close, voices soft but excitable, he yells, "What the gorram hell are you two up to?" This time, they're bent over a scrap of paper, and Mal can see scribblings and diagrams on it. He makes a quick grab for it, but Wash yanks it away first, hastily stepping back.

"What is it?" Mal asks, in his best 'give it to me or I'll kill you' captainly voice.

Wash shrugs, crumpling the paper up slowly. "Just some – poetry. Kaylee and I are romance poetry writers, maybe you've seen some of our other pieces on the Cortex, they're quite acclaimed, you know, they've won – "

Poetry his ass. Mal lunges, but Wash is fast, too fast for a man in an ugly shirt, and he stuffs the paper into his mouth, swallowing it down. That crazy grin is back, afterwards, as he says, "Really, Captain, you didn't want to read it. It isn't finished yet."

Kaylee is laughing silently behind her hand.

*

When Zoe had first woken up, after the surgery, she'd said, "We need another gun hand."

Mal smiled down at her. "I've been thinking that myself. Think I should put the word out?"

She'd shaken her head, and winced. "Nope."

"You just let me know when you see someone you like, then," he'd said, and she'd closed her eyes and fallen back asleep.

Zoe keeps her mouth shut for some time about it. They meet various folk, people Mal thinks would do an okay job, but she doesn't say anything about any of them. It just figures that she'd choose this time to speak up, when they've got three guns trained on them, and Wash up in the ship yelling into the comm – and Mal's earpiece – that they're going to get shot.

"Him," she says, gesturing with the hand that ain't holding her favourite shotgun.

"Him?" Mal asks, confused.

"The big one. He's the tracker."

"That so?" he asks the big one. "You track us down?"

The merc pulls the cigar out of his mouth and says, "Yep." He looks real proud.

"Shut up!" yells the one in charge. The one who hasn't caught Zoe's eye. "Tell us where you hid the goods."

"Now, there ain't no call for anger," Mal says, and starts thinking fast about negotiating with the big one. He doesn't look like much – besides big – but Zoe, she's always had an eye for the right kind of person for a particular job.

In the end, Mal and Zoe don't get shot, and Mal has a new hire.

It's a good day.

*

He's going soft. That's the only explanation he figures explains it. He's going soft in the head. Why else would he let Kaylee mess around in his cargo hold, and promise not to go snooping while she's working?

The sounds are intriguing. Clangs, and yeah, that's the sound of a welding torch, and Kaylee yells sometimes, like maybe something she's done worked out better than she'd hoped. He stands in the corner and listens, and when he hears Wash join her, he listens to them talking to one another, though they ain't loud enough for him to hear specific words. Mostly.

"Hover!" Wash yells, at one point.

"Shhhh! Not now. Maybe later." Kaylee sounds exasperated, but Mal doesn't catch the rest of what she says.

Them two. Cooking up something. Mal's sure this is related to the so-called poetry paper, even though that was weeks ago. He doesn't have much in the way of proof, but it looks like them two are maybe more devious than he thought.

The chatty, happy ones. Who'd have guessed?

He's thinking about just walking in there, taking a look at the mess they're making on his ship, when Kaylee pops around the corner. How'd she learn to be so sneaky and quiet?

"Don't even think about it," she says, waving a wrench in his direction.

"I wasn't thinkin' about anything," he swears, eyes wide.

*

At dinner, they walk in, put food on their plates, and walk right back out. It's aggravating. "You know what they're up to?"

Zoe nods at her plate. "Yes, Sir."

"And?"

"I'm sworn to secrecy."

"You're sworn to be my second in command!" They've even turned Zoe on him, and that ain't right.

Grinning, she says, "It's need-to-know only."

It must be good to get her smiling like that. Grinding his teeth, he turns to Jayne, "You got any idea?"

The man barely stops shoveling food into his mouth to say, "Nope. Don't care, neither."

Mutiny. That's what some people would call this.

*

It's late when he sneaks down to the cargo bay, intent on taking a look. Jayne's already down there, staring at a little mountain of – something – covered in sheets. It's dead in the centre of the floor. "Guess you do care what it is."

Jayne glances over at him. "Can't get near it though."

"Why?"

"Kaylee says she's rigged the floor two feet around it. We step on it, we get shocked."

Gorram girl is too clever for her own good. And she's smart enough to make the booby trap hard to disable. So he stands there with Jayne, just looking at the lumpy mass.

"Maybe it's a gun. Cannon mount. Somethin' like that."

Sighing, Mal asks, "You ever stop thinkin' about guns?"

*

He waits until mid-morning the next day, and then decides he's waited long enough. He just marches down into the cargo bay, and catches them in the act.

"Cap!" Kaylee yells, as she slides out from under the – thing.

Wash turns quickly, welding torch in his hand, goggles down over his eyes. "Hey! No looking!"

But Mal's looking. He's looking at Wash, the top of his orange coveralls pulled down and tied around his waist, his grey undershirt sweaty around the edges and covered in grime. Above the goggles, Wash has beads of sweat on his forehead, and Mal watches as one rolls down.

The whole picture is appealing. More than it ought to be.

Then Kaylee steps into his field of view, and she's trying to look angry, but the grin is winning. "We said no peeking! You're supposed to wait."

"Ain't no good at waiting," he says, looking away from Wash. "No secrets on my boat!"

Kaylee rolls her eyes. "Fine. Whatever. You ain't no fun. Look all you want. Spoilsport."

So he looks. He sees wheels and seats and bits all over his floor. "What is it?"

Her grin widens as she says, "Mule! It was Wash's idea. Said it would be a nice surprise for you. It'll help to cart cargo around, and it don't hardly use any fuel. See," she points at the back of the thing, "it's even got little bitty solar collectors for if we're in a sunny place."

Huh. He can see it now, even though the thing – the mule – is still mostly in pieces. Handy.

"Wash wanted to make it hover. But we don't got the parts for that, so I said let's try this one first, think about hovering later on."

He ain't sure what to say. "So, this is what you two've been up to?"

"Yep!"

He turns to Wash, who's smiling too, but silent. "Poetry?"

Wash shrugs. "Well, the plans we sketched out were poetical. Some might say."

Right. "Well. Guess I won't kill you two for keeping secrets from your captain. This once."

Kaylee sticks her tongue out at him, and turns back to her work.

Mal looks at the mule bits, and says, "Shiny."

*

The next time it happens, there's no drinking and no crisis beforehand. It's just Mal, wandering around the ship, late at night, as they're flying in between one job and another. Only other one awake is Wash, who he finds down in the cargo hold, fussing over the mule.

"Thought it was finished," he says, as he hits the bottom step.

Wash looks up. "It is. Just looking it over. Tinkering."

There's a silence for a space, as Wash keeps up with his fussing, Mal just watching. Wash is wearing the undershirt again, same grey one Mal's seen before. Except this time, it's clean. It shows off his arms. Finally, Mal figures he should say something else. "Good idea."

Wash nods, still tinkering with some wiring. "Yeah. These things are useful. Too bad it doesn't hover, though."

Mal grunts, though his mind ain't really on the conversation. He's busy taking in the sights. Wash ain't what Mal would call conventionally attractive. He wears clothes that burn the eyes, some days, and he's a little soft around the belly. But Mal rarely meets people with such honest faces, especially these days. It's his smile that reels Mal in. That, and his hair sometimes catches the eye in a not-unpleasant way.

He's a good pilot. Dependable. His sarcasm is something to behold, when he gets riled up. He's got some crazy flying moves, and that's handy in their line of work. Him and Kaylee, they make one hell of a team, and Serenity's never been in such good shape as she is now.

Crew relations are a bad idea. Bad idea all around. But Mal's known for making bad decisions. Zoe, she keeps a list.

And anyhow, Mal ain't Zoe. He's tried to lock himself up tight, keep others out. But he can't. Maybe if he didn't have crew like Wash and Kaylee, maybe if they'd didn't remind him there was still kindness and good and folk who ain't broken out in the 'verse, maybe then he'd do like her, and keep himself to himself.

But he can't. He's tried, and it ties him, and a captain ain't any good if he doesn't care about something other than himself and his ship. So, he says, "Course set?"

"Yep. Should be smooth sailing all the way to Lilac. I'll check everything out in a few hours."

"You married to the idea of tinkering until then?"

Wash looks up. "Ah. No?"

Mal grins his recruiting grin, and says, "Bunk?"

Wash carefully finishes the wiring, puts the tools away, stands and says, "Sure." He shrugs like he doesn't really care one way or the other, but it's spoiled by the half-smile. "I guess I could do that."

Smirking, Mal turns and heads up the stairs, "You guess, huh?"

"Well, I like to keep my captain happy. If that means sacrificing my free time like this, I guess I ought to do it. Crew unity and all of that."

Mal laughs. "Don't start thinkin' the rest of the crew are waiting for us." He stops after a few paces, after he hears Wash clear the top step. Turning, he says "Except maybe Jayne, who's probably lying in wait to kill me and take my ship."

Wash nods. "Yeah. There's always that." He scrubs his hand through his hair. "So. Bunk?"

Yeah. Bunk. But first – Mal steps closer and hooks his hands through the shoulders of Wash's undershirt, pulling him closer.

As a kiss, Mal's sure it wouldn't meet Inara's standards. But it's something Mal's been thinking about – pretending he wasn't thinking about – since that night.

It ain't fancy. Nothing scripted about it, no pretty words before or after. Mal just holds Wash close, and kisses him hard. Wash takes it and pushes back. He knocks Mal right against the wall, licks into Mal's mouth, insistent and pushy. Mal closes his eyes and lets go, focuses on the scrape of stubble across his skin, the tug of teeth on his bottom lip.

Wash presses right in, gets about as close as he can get without climbing inside Mal's clothes. When he moves, Mal grunts, pushing up against him. That just makes Wash smile against his mouth, smile and then move again, shifting his hips as he bites across Mal's jaw, and down his neck.

"Hey," Mal says, pleased his voice is maybe a little steady. Wash's fingers tug at Mal's shirt, pulling it up, out of his pants. Hot fingers slide along his waist, gripping hard, and Mal pulls Wash's hips tighter against him. "Hey," he tries again.

"What?" Wash speaks against his skin, and Mal shivers.

"We're in the hall."

Wash licks a path from his ear to jaw, and then pulls his head back. "Hall."

"Uh," Mal says, releasing his grip on Wash's waist, and wiping his hand across his mouth. "Maybe we should move. Somewhere." He fights the urge to get his hand down Wash's pants, hallway be damned. "Else."

Wash steps back, breathing a little fast. "Yeah. Wouldn't want Jayne to see us, take the chance to shoot you while you weren't paying attention."

Mal starts walking, real fast, to his bunk. "He would've had to shoot through you first. I had my back to the wall."

Behind him, Wash snorts. "Get used to it."

*

Next morning, Zoe corners him in the kitchen and asks, "You having sex with the pilot, Sir?" She never did beat around the bush.

"Guess I am. Problems?"

She shrugs. "Don't like him particularly."

Yep. That's Zoe. "Why?"

"Smiles too much. Talks too much. Don't trust him."

He sighs, grinning. "Them talkers."

"Talkers got something to hide."

Unlike the quiet ones, who don't? "Zoe. You ever gonna trust anyone again?"

"Trust you."

That's a given. She wouldn't be here if she didn't, he knows that much. "What about Kaylee?"

"Too happy."

"Yeah, them happy ones, they're out to get you. I heard that somewhere. Best watch your back around her. Inara?"

"Too fancy. Too many manners."

Mal's near to laughing now. "She'll serve you tea before she kills you, so I'm told. Fancy tea. Jayne?"

She gives him a flat look. Well, yeah. That was a stupid question. But – "You picked him."

"Doesn't mean I have to trust him."

He nods. "Guess it don't." Thing is, he knows that if Zoe had any real problems with the rest of the crew, she wouldn't just talk about it. They'd already be off the ship, or dead. This whole conversations is ass-backwards, because he knows what she's really saying. "So. You won't kill Wash then?"

"Guess not. Not unless he pushes me."

"I appreciate it."

She nods, and almost smiles. "I hope so, Sir."

And that's it.

*

He heads back to his bunk, tea in hand. Once he's climbed down the ladder, Mal hands over the mug, and Wash smiles in a way that's too smug for his own good.

"Don't got coffee." Mal steps back, leans up against the wall and crosses his arms. "If we're gonna do this, I got rules."

Pulling up the blanket around him, Wash says, "I'm shocked."

Mal lists the rules off on his fingers. "No trying to take over my ship. No telling me what to do. You do as I say, don't question orders. You call me Mal or you call me Captain, but no cute names, especially not in front of the others. Don't go trying to take liberties you ain't entitled to."

He stops, and Wash asks, "You done?"

"Yep. For now."

Wash's brow crinkles a little, and then he says, "Aww, you're such a romantic, Mal. I go and make you a mule, and what do I get? Rules."

"I brought you tea! Also, there's the sex."

Wash grins before he takes a mouthful of the tea. Mal tells himself he ain't watching Wash swallow.

"Ah yes, the sex." Wash pauses and his expression turns serious, "I don't want to run this ship. Maybe you should tell that rule to Jayne. Every day. Loudly. Second, I'll tell you what I think, but it's not as though you'll listen. Third, I'm questioning by nature, and that isn't going to change. And the fourth one?" Now he grins again, the grin Mal recognizes as foreshadowing trouble. "I don't know about that. I've got a list of cute names, you know. I've been collecting them for years."

"Nope."

"You sure? I've got names that won't damage your masculinity too much. What about – lamby-toes?" He smirks as he says it.

Mal glares.

"Butter-pie?"

"What part of 'no cute names' don't you understand?"

Wash lies back, and Mal takes in the view as the sheet slips down to his waist. "I've got a wealth of names at my fingertips." He wiggles the fingers on one hand, the hand that ain't holding the tea. "You don't want them now fine, but don't come crying to me later."

Mal steps away from the wall, and starts unbuttoning his shirt. "That ain't what I'm gonna come to you for," he says, grinning as Wash's eyes follow the movement of his fingers.

End.

Sun, 15 Jan 2006 17:03:54 GMT

Title: Shadow Puppets
Rating: PG? I think.
Characters: Mal/Wash pre-slash-ish.
Author Notes: For the prompt at inevitableslash.

Over here at my fic LJ.

Migraine

Wed, 11 Jan 2006 13:01:49 GMT

Here's the other drabble I did. You can thank bellehiver for this one. :)

Title: Migraine
Author: Van Donovan
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Mal/Wash
Word Count: 831
Notes: Inspired by the prompt to write pre-Zoe Mal/Wash and to involve a "headache."

(10 January 2006)

Migraine:

Mal came up from the crosswalk between the galley and the engine room and promptly sank onto the sofa in the gaming nook with a loud groan. He bent his head and put it between his legs, clearly hurting from some ailment.

Wash looked up from the sandwich he was eating and cast a glance to Mal. It was a rare sight to see the captain feeling pain and actually showing it. “Hey, you all right there, captainy-type man?” he questioned.

Mal looked up and squinted at Wash. “Too gorram loud,” he muttered and winced. “And bright.”

“Oh,” Wash stated and pushed to his feet. “Migraine.” He grinned softly but quietly crept the wall where the light controls were and dimmed them. Then he crossed the distance to where Mal sat. “Take off your shoes,” he coaxed.

“What?” Mal questioned looking to him.

“Your boots: those things on your feet? Take them off.” Wash sat down beside him and when Mal didn’t comply he bent and began to unzip his boots himself.

Mal wobbled a bit and adjusted so Wash could take his shoes off. “Why am I taking off my boots?”

“Let’s the feet breathe. Get your feet cold and it’ll help knock that headache.” He worked the first boot off and tossed it aside and then wormed the sock off. He then started on the other. “What brought this on?”

“Dunno,” Mal muttered and cricked his knee. “Woke up with it. Did the job anyway; probably should’t’ve. Didn’t make a very good impression, I don’t think.” He tilted his head to the side and sighed as Wash worked the other boot off. “Don’t happen much but when it do it tends t’get real bad.”

Wash dropped Mal’s other sock to the floor and then straightened. “How’s that feel?”

Mal wriggled his toes. “Better, actually.” He pressed them on the cool metal flooring for a few seconds.

“Good. Now turn.” Wash put a hand on his shoulder and adjusted him until Mal’s back was facing him. He tugged lightly at Mal’s suspenders and pushed them aside and then got onto his knees and started kneading Mal’s back, working his fingers into the muscles along his shoulders and up to the thick tense cords in his neck. "Ci bei, Mal, don’t you ever relax?” he questioned, surprised.

Mal groaned at the fingers on his neck and the little sparks of release that the pressure was sending through his body. “Ngh. Not if I can help it,” he muttered and closed his eyes. “Didn’t know when I hired you I was getting’ a personal masseuse, too.”

Wash grinned slightly. “The first massage is free,” he noted cheerfully. “I charge by the hour after this.”

Mal’s head sagged forward, completely relaxing into Wash’s ministrations. “Hell, think I’d even pay y’for this,” he mused. “They teach this sort of thing in flight school these days?”

Wash chuckled. “No, I’m entirely self-taught,” he replied. His fingers worked along Mal’s neck and then up into his hair. He braced Mal’s head with his fingers and used his thumbs to work small circles against his skull. He massaged back down his neck and to the breadth of his shoulders and continued this regime for almost half an hour.

He stopped only when his fingers felt like they’d fall off and sat back on his heels to rest. Mal, unsupported now, slumped back against him. Wash grinned as he caught him and sort of wedged Mal between his legs and put one hand on his shoulder so he wouldn’t topple off the couch. “Feel any better?” he quietly asked.

“Mmm,” Mal mused. His eyes were closed and he looked rather blissful. “If I’d know y’were as good with your hands as that,” he added sleepily, “I’d’ve come on t’you a lot sooner.”

Wash laughed gently and found himself absently tracing a hand through Mal’s hair. “Don't say that, sir,” he answered. “Or I might think you were serious.”

Mal grinned up at him. “Been known t’be serious, on the occasion,” he noted.

For a moment Wash didn’t respond, and then he shifted a little with Mal in his lap until he could bend in towards him. Their eyes were connected and Wash noticed for the first time that Mal’s dark eyes were blue and not brown. It made him grin when he kissed him.

Mal was a tender kisser, or perhaps it was his very languid post-massage state that lent itself to the slow kiss, but Wash didn’t much mind. It was nice – different from other men he’d kissed. When he pulled back he found Mal giving him a curious little glance. “What?” he questioned. He wasn’t quite self-conscious but curious at the expression. “Do I have bad breath or something?”

Mal broke into a bright grin. “No,” he mused and raised a hand to rub against his upper lip. “Just thinkin’ you’re gonna have t’shave off that mustache if we’re goin’ t’continue this.” His eyes twinkled merrily.

Playing the Middle

Wed, 11 Jan 2006 12:54:09 GMT

You might've seen this earlier if you've got my journal friended -- I put up a drabble request for people to give me a Firefly pairing and a prompt in order for me to write for folk. You can all thank bluerosefairy who inspired this one. Got a straight up Mal/Wash coming after this one.

Title: Playing the Middle
Author: Van Donovan
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Mal/Wash/Zoe
Word Count: 1,297
Notes: Inspired by the prompt to write Mal/Wash/Zoe and to involve "candles" (in a non-sexual manner).

Playing the Middle:

“You really think this is such a good idea?” Wash asked as he continued lighting candles around the empty passenger lounge. “You don’t think it’s too, you know, cliché and cheesy?”

“No, it’s shiny!” Kaylee cheerfully called from across the room where she was also lighting candles. “Ain’t no girl I know who wouldn’t swoon at bein’ courted all traditional like this.” She sighed wistfully. “Wish someone’d do it for me.”

Wash gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m sure someone will eventually, Kaylee. I’ve got ten years on you, after all.”

“I keep tellin’ myself that,” she agreed and lit the last candle. Shaking the thoughts out of her head she stood back to appraise the candlelit lounge. “This looks real good, Wash.”

Wash moved to stand by her and agreed. “Yes, it does. Now, you’re sure the captain’ll be gone until morning?” he questioned.

Kaylee nodded. “Yup. He’n’Jayne always go out drinkin’ and doin’ guy-things when we’re in places like this. ‘nd Zoe always comes home. She don’t take much t’the gamblin’n’drinkin’ so much, I don’t think. Bit more refined, I suppose.”

“That’s my girl.” Wash nodded and smiled eagerly. “And you’re all right with, y’know, stayin’ upstairs the rest of the night?” He questioned a little skeptically, waving his hands for some emphasis.

Kaylee flashed him a brilliant smile. “Don’t y’worry about me none. I won’t peep. Promise.”

“Kaylee, you’re the greatest. Then, I guess I’m all set.”

“Good luck!” she called and started up the stairwell.

When she was gone Wash turned off the auxiliary lights so only the scattered candles lighted the room. He adjusted his shirt and then slid by the door and waited.

It was almost twenty minutes before he heard the sound of footsteps in the cargo bay. He sprang back to his feet and stood by the door, waiting for Zoe to appear through it so he could surprise her. They’d been getting close the past few weeks and he thought it was about time that he finally did something really nice to prove how very much he loved her.

When he could hear her just outside the door he wiped his hands on his palms and as soon as she stepped through he grabbed her wrist roughly, spun her around to him and kissed her full on the lips. “Surprise, baby,” he grinned and opened his eyes realizing that not only was she not kissing him back, her lips weren’t exactly the soft sweet things he’d gotten used to kissing.

“Y’did all this for me?" Mal asked in his sweetest voice. He raised a hand to his brow in faint surprise. “Why,” his voice had affected a girly pitch, “Wash, I never knew!”

“Mal!” he cried, alarmed. “What’re you—”

“Somethin’ wrong, sir?” Zoe called as she stepped through the door after him. She looked around blinking at the candles and dim lighting. “Whoa.”

Mal grinned at her. “Seems your boyfriend here is tryin’' t’seduce me.”

Zoe arched an eyebrow at them both.

“I was not!” Wash retorted. “He isn’t supposed to be here.” He pointed at Mal. “He’s supposed to be out getting drunk, and doing stupid man-things with Jayne.”

Mal grinned slyly at Wash, playing him. “That ain’t what it seemed like you was thinking when you was kissin’ me.”

“I didn’t—” Wash started, and then floundered. Zoe looked between the two, a mixture of concern and amusement gracing her face. "Well, okay, I did,” he corrected and Mal grinned quite sunnily to Zoe. “But I didn’t mean to. I thought you were Zoe!”

Zoe put her hands on her hips. “Know me and th’captain been through a lot together, sweetie, but I ain’t never been confused for the man before.”

“It was dark,” Wash tried to explain. “And I wanted to surprise you! It’s not like I meant to kiss him!”

“Well, ain’t that just a shame? I think my feelings just got hurt,” Mal feigned and then grinned softly. “Pity though -- it weren’t half bad.”

Wash gave him a disbelieving look and turned to Zoe for confirmation of Mal’s absurdity. She just had a resigned sort of expression on her face. “Y'can’t have him, sir,” she plainly stated.

Mal shifted his weight, taking in the two, largely ignoring Zoe. “Wish I’d been a bit more prepared’n’all, though. Ain’t fair t’expect a man t’kiss any good when he's all surprised like that.”

Wash seemed uncertain to whether he should be disturbed or amused. “Well, I understand you don’t get a lot of practice, captain,” he jested but his tone was a little cool. He blinked at the look that comment drew out of Mal. There was a vague intensity behind Mal’s eyes.

Zoe’s arm reached out and grabbed Mal’s and he turned away from Wash to look at her hand on his arm. “Sir,” she said, “don’t think he’s buyin’.”

Wash stared at the two of them for several seconds and then he stepped back, away from them, completely confused. “What’s going on here? What, exactly, am I not buying?”

Mal looked at Zoe for a few seconds longer and then gave her just the briefest of nods. She let his arm go and fixed her gaze on Wash. “Captain don’t just fancy the lady folk.”

“Well,” Wash began and then floundered. He stared at the two of them a little longer. “I mean,” he tried again and then trailed off. “But he—” he stared at them both intently. “Me?”

Mal grinned probably the sweetest grin Wash had ever seen him grin before. “Don’t see why not. Clearly y’got good taste.” He nodded to Zoe, in point. “Can’t say I ain’t thought on it before.”

“You’re,” Wash started but he couldn’t finish the sentence because although apparently Mal had thought of him before, he'd never thought of Mal before, like that, and now his brain was supplying images and they were rather distracting. He sat down and was very grateful there was a sofa right behind him.

Mal laughed and Zoe just shook her head, amused. “Think he’s catchin’ on.”

Wash blinked back to the here-and-now. “You’re okay with this, Zo’?” he questioned, confused.

Zoe shrugged. “Wouldn’t be th’first time we done somethin’ like this.”

Wash’s hand rose and he pointed a finger, wagging it back and forth between the two of them. “You . . . y’mean you two’ve . . .” His eyes intensified, emphasizing his point.

Mal grinned. “Nah,” he played and moved to sit down a little too close to Wash. “There’s always a middle.” He patted Wash’s thigh. “We both play with him,” he raised his eyes to Zoe as she sat down on the other side of Wash.

“Or her,” she supplied gently and put her hand on his other knee.

“But we don’t cross the streams,” Mal finished. “Much.” He grinned. “Zoe ain’t really my type,” he noted kindly.

Zoe grinned. “Captain ain’t mine, neither,” she said and rubbed fondly on Wash’s knee.

“And I am?” Wash incredulously asked, his eyes turning to look at Mal.

“Near ‘nough,” he replied and patted Wash’s knee. “What d’y’say?”

Wash sank back against the couch and stared at the empty infirmary across the way, trying to let this entire thing sink in. “Ai ya, wo de zou yun,” he breathed softly.

Zoe smiled a perfect smile and nodded, drawing closer to him. “That you are, honey. Luckiest gorram man in the ‘verse.”

Mal sealed the deal with another kiss, this one more confident and warm, while Zoe’s nimble fingers began to work on Wash's flowery Hawai’ian shirt. Around them the candles burned, casting the entire room into soft hues of gold, which accurately described about how Wash was feeling in that particular moment.

Fic Rec

Mon, 09 Jan 2006 08:44:55 GMT

This is not a new fic and it's not mine but it was the first one that made me think about Mal/Wash so I figured it deserved to be mentioned here (the description was written by the author).

Modest Proposal, by Grey Bard
Summary: Set in the early days of the Serenity. Pragmatism rules.
Rating - PG-13 (Mature ideas)
Pairing/Character - Wash/Zoe/Mal (Sort of)
Disclaimer - All hail the mighty Joss. Sue me not, I do this out of love for thy characters.

Sun, 08 Jan 2006 00:04:23 GMT

Small update but:

Ladies and menfolk, we now have a shiny new layout. Well, okay, it's not that shiny. It's sort of quickly put together and very basic. But, you know, it's done and looks mite better than the default.

That is all. :D