Firefly Fan Fic: Fluid, chapter 1
Fluid, Chapter 1
When It Rains, It Pours
By Jeremy
Pairings: Wash/Jayne, Mal/Zoë
Rating: PG-13 at best
Summary: Wash is having a hell of a night, and even more confusing morning after. Warning: Thar be slashy content, but nothing sexy yet.
Words: 4275
A/N: This is my first Firefly fic, and honestly my first fanfic in yeeeeears. I needed an exercise to get my mind muscles working again so I could get back into write et al, and this was the muse I was given. It's the first chapter of a long fic.
Rain falling over Serenity was not a common occurrence, considering the large expanses of time she generally avoided atmosphere and everything it entailed. But during those rare occurrences when they had to stay on a wet rock a little longer than expected, and when the ship was quiet and still- a rare thing in itself- Wash would make his way to the bridge, get cozy in his chair and watch the water sheet down the glass face of Serenity. The pattering of raindrops on the hull was always nearly enough to make him fall straight to sleep.
Not this rainy night, though. Nope. Tonight Wash had the not-so-rare fortune of having a gun pointed at him by a man seeking to do him some bodily harm if he did not fully cooperate.
“Where’s he at?” The man snarled from behind him, the guns barrel oh so firmly planted at the base of Wash’s neck.
His calm now officially broke he slowly raised his arms in defense. “There’s a lot of ‘he’s’ on--”
Wash felt his head snap back, stubby fingers entangled in his short hair. “The Captain, nǐ báichī fēi sè wàitào.”
Wash finally got his first look at the pudgy bull-faced thug, albeit upside down. He scowled, biting back the urge to tell this man-bovine hybrid that he in fact did not fight in the war; brown-coat or otherwise. Instead he opted for the truth.
“I have no idea.” He really didn’t. Both Mal and Zoë decided it was a good night to go gallivanting around town trying to scour for any jobs they could. It was tradition.
The other man lowered his face over Wash’s, giving him a good look at the filth and grime coating the boarder-dweller. Not to mention his overpowering breathe; which smelt like stale tobacco mixed with sour milk.
“Well,” the creep growled, a wicked smile carving through his face. “You’d better get an idea soon.”
“I’ve got an idea.” A thunk, and the suddenly Wash became very acquainted with the other mans face. And pain. Was it just him, or did the world taste a bit like blood all of a sudden?
The thug slinked to the ground, unconscious, Mal stood over him poised with a metal pipe. “You okay there, Wash?” He asked as he nudged the cow-man onto his back with his toe.
Wash took this opportunity to finally jump to his feet, hand to face to stem the flow of blood from his nose. “Shì shénme zài dìyù, Mal?”
“What?” The man was truly dumbfounded, defensive even.
“You hit him! Into my face!” His voice pathetically nasally.
“Well I’m terribly sorry about your pretty little face there, but the man did kind of have a gun in your back.”
Wash hazarded a look in a mirror to inspect the damage and whimpered. “My nose…” He went to his console and searched for a handkerchief or something to sop the blood off his face. “You might have thought to wait until he jumped up in surprise from your intrusion before hitting him. Or, I don’t know, hit him from the side. Or-I hope that pipe isn’t important.”
Mal quickly concealed the long bronze pipe behind his back. “I’ll put it back.”
Wash sighed and, giving up his search for the elusive hanky, opting instead to use the bottom of his already blood spattered yellow undershirt. His button up tropical sunset shirt, fortunately, was spared the brutality and was laid across the arm of the pilot’s chair.
And thus was the scene Zoë decided to walk in on. A rotund man with a gun laying unconscious on the floor, Mal standing with a pipe behind his back, and Wash with his bloody shirt pulled up showing off his chest and covering his face. Just how Wash wanted her to see him.
“Quite the party.”
She walked in and stood next to her husband, assessing the scene. “What’d I miss?”
“Still not quite sure yet,” Mal replied as he wrapped an arm around his wife’s hip, giving a little squeeze. He turned his eyes on Wash. “Mind filing us in?” His tone was almost accusing.
Wash sighed. This was not the thing he wanted tonight. Relaxation was on his agenda, not intrigue and… whatever else this was. “He asked for you.”
Mal smiled. “Well, I sure haven’t been the ire of anyone’s attention for a while now.” His excitement
“Been about a week, hasn’t it?” Zoë chimed in, an almost-smirk on her face as she met eyes with her man.
Mal smiled back. “Seems like forever.” He looked back at Wash, borderline-giddy grin still on his lips. “Well, considering the rock we’ve landed on I think I have an idea on just who sent this rat after me. I’ll head down an’ round up the big guy, you go get your nose--” He paused and made an open palm circular motion over his face. “--checked out by the doc. Zoë, go and fetch the doc, let him know he’s got a patient, then meet me by the mule. We’ve got a man to see about some cows.“
With that Mal and Zoë turned and walked out of the bridge, leaving a confused and kind of woozy Wash standing over the greasy unconscious man.
Hurried footsteps came back toward the room, Mal emerging through the threshold. “Oh, do me a favor and watch him while I grab Jayne before heading to the infirmary. Just make sure he doesn’t do… stuff.” With a wave and a nod he was back down the hall. Wash sank into the chair, defeated.
Then kicked the guy, for retribution’s sake.
………..
“So,” started the bleary eyed Simon. “What happened?”
Wash squinted when the good doctor brought a magnifying glass-burning light hybrid thing a little too close to his eyes, which in turn began to water. “You want the long or the short story?” Simon didn’t answer, what with being busy looking at his nose and all. And since talking kind of hurt too much right now, “Short story then. Let’s just say never get too intimate with a strange mans face.”
That elicited a reaction from Simon. “I’m sorry?” He pulled the bright light away from Wash’s face and turned to get a doo-dad off his tray.
“Well, I mean AUGH-” Simon shoved the business end of his tool into either nostril and just like that his nose was realigned again.
“Sorry.” He went back to his tray and picked up another potential death trinket. Wash eyed it cautiously, this time keeping his trap shut. It was smaller, thinner, and coming toward his face. Simon gingerly laid it across the bridge of his nose, than slightly less sudden than it’s intrusion pulled the clamp thing from his nostrils.
Wash fought the urge to feel around his face when Simon turned his back. It felt all right though, less sideways at least from what he could tell.
“I don’t have the best pain killers at the moment, so take these pills three times a day after eating for the rest of the week, or if it hurts immensely. After that,” He turned back toward Wash and placed the small bag filled with little white pills in his hand. “I’ve heard tale that whiskey can take the pain away.”
………..
The girls were all still asleep, and Simon soon followed after giving Wash a clean bill of health aside from the broken nose. That left the pilot all by his lonesome down in the ships kitchen. He decided to forego his doctors prescription and instead opted for a good old fashioned ‘let’s get all kinds of sloppy drunk while everyone else has fun adventuring or sleeping’ night cap. That was the funny thing about alcohol and scavenging. On almost every ship the Captain ever led a mission on they would come back with armfuls of alcohol. Good stuff, too. It was the damnedest thing.
In a way it made sense to Wash, why there was always so much of the stuff left on the ships. When you’re faced with your impending doom and in dire need of escape, the last thing on your mind is to grab something that’ll fog up your mind and potentially run you afoul of the whole surviving thing you’re so intent on.
But that was the funny thing, because why was there so much alcohol on the ship in the first place? Well, that was a simple answer really. It was there for the long journeys through black nothingness. You might be there with everyone you cared about and had nothing but loves loving loviness around you at all times; but in the end you needed an escape. Because no matter how many people you know around you, in the vast emptiness of the universe… you always felt alone.
Wash raised his cup over his head, saluting to no one in particular. “Here’s to loneliness and head injuries.” He tossed the last gulp back and let the burn slide down his throat as he listened to the rainfall over Serenity.
It was a new life he was looking for when he took the job piloting this boat. He’d worked with countless crew on dozens of ships, but all of the people he met were all so… distant. Every ship was either in spotless condition or in perfect disrepair in all the same ways, each seeming to be replicas of each other. Every person on board filling their role, both as a job and as a lifestyle. It was bizarre, like boys playing soldier.
And yet it was the soldiers that set themselves apart. He couldn’t explain why, but right from the very beginning he felt like these people were different. This ship was going to be different- because honestly, Firefly class isn’t something people go out of their way for unless they’ve tuned into that something… that something in the air when you’re in her.
Didn’t hurt that the soldiers were two of the shiniest looking folk he ever did come across, both in attitude and pure aesthetic. It was pretty apparent from the get-go that they were a pair but that never did stop Wash from fantasizing that one day the Captain would be gone and his delicious first mate would go crazy with worry, needing Wash to console her. Or the Captain is having a particularly rough day and he just needs a little… relaxation. Or they both need some relaxation. At the same time. Oh man, the stories he came up with in his head while he sat in that chair alone all that time.
In fact, Serenity has had a whole run of beautiful folk pass through her. Sadly, he never did get to see any action with any of them. It was a sad affair, but most times the person was already interested in someone else, crazy, or just otherwise not interested in him.
The Captain had his first mate and wife, Kaylee and Simon did that whole dancing around thing they did, Inara was otherwise… unavailable, River was insane, and Jayne…
Jayne was something else. He’d considered Jayne many a’times, but that man was a walking enigma. Either he terrified you or confused you with his ambiguity, which was equally terrifying.
Even if given the chance, Wash wasn’t sure about Jayne-
“Wash!” He felt a nudge, and a throb in his head. “Wash, wake up.” The frantic raspy voice urged him.
He opened his eyes, unsure of when he passed out. He glanced around the darkened kitchen, his whole body aching almost as much as his head. That didn’t stop the possessor of the offending voice to pull him to his feet and sending a wave of shock through his numb system.
Wash looked at the hand holding him, and followed the trail of his arm up to his face. “Jayne?”
“Wash, man, something bad went down.” It was still too dark and Wash was still too drunk to quite understand what was going on. But the larger man was scared, and soaked with rain. If his head were clearer he’d take time to try and figure out which of the two was causing the man to shiver so violently.
“What’s going on?” He felt himself turned around and shoved toward the steps. “What the hell is going on, Jayne?”
“Gorram people double crossed us something good. I need you to do some piloting so I can do some heroing, liǎojiě?”
Wash was now verging on panic and sobriety. “What happened?”
“Just get behind the gorram wheel and steer this thing back toward the town. I’ll tell you where to go from there, and-are you drunk?” His nose was crinkled up as he finally caught a wiff of the smell emanating off of the pilot.
“Only a little.”
“Dí suǒyǒu shídài, Wash!” Jayne shoved the smaller man into the cockpit. “Fly.” Without hesitation Wash did as he was told. Fear had sobered him up pretty good, but he still had a hard time seeing clearly in all the rain and with his left eye slightly swollen from his recent close encounter. But with directions from Jayne they managed to get close enough for their rescue without getting too close for detection.
Wash followed Jayne to his bunk after settling the ship down. He stood at the top of the ladder and started asking questions anew. “What. Happened?”
There was a pause as Jayne busied himself with making clicking noises and scraped metal together just out of view down in his bunk. “The head honcho, I forget his name, he weren’t none too pleased with his losing money over cows that got taken away from him and his town by the Alliance.” He dropped something and it rolled toward the ladder, a half dressed Jayne clambered over to retrieve it, affording Wash a quick glance at bare skin. A glance he appreciated, but didn’t have time for that kind of ogling right at the moment. “We went in, mostly unarmed, and the man goes and tells his brutes to grab us. Separate us.”
There’s a pause. Total silence.
“I heard shouting from another room. I couldn’t even tell if it were Zoë or Mal. I finally managed to untie myself, kick some people in the head and shoot others while I tried to find the others. When I couldn’t find ‘em I came back to the ship.”
“You ran away?” There was slightly more anger and shock in his voice than even Wash was ready for. There was another pause from down below before Jayne stepped to the bottom the ladder, his shirt still off.
“I came back to arm up.” Jayne had plenty of venom himself. “Look here, pilot. I did what I could for those two idiots, but I weren’t about to get myself killed right then because I wasn’t allowed to bring enough weapons with me. Now, I’m going to try and make good on my part. I suggest you just stay sober and get ready to fly us out the moment we’re back on this boat.” And with that, he stomped out of view and continued to get ready.
Wash squatted over the entryway, silent and somber. Without a word he stood up and turned away.
“This will end well for him.” Wash yelped and jumped back, nearly falling into Jayne’s bunk. River stood in the middle of the hall staring at him with those big Doe like eyes. “It’s okay, everything is going to be okay. I promise. No more empty space.”
“That’s…” Wash stammered as he eased himself around River, doing his best to blend into the wall. He still wasn’t totally used to this girl. He watched her as he made his way back toward the bridge. “That’s good to know.” She smiled at him then looked sad.
“Mind the gap.”
………..
It was times like these that brought something out of the folk on the S.S. Serenity. When times were tough and people were in danger; everyone got pumped. It didn’t seem to matter if you were the gung ho mercenary-for-hire stuffed to the gills with guns, or the even-tempered Shepard. Once they found out their friends were in need of help, they went and helped them: even if it wasn’t the smart thing to do.
Which would explain why Wash was now eating mud, completely drenched and freezing cold. He should have done just as Jayne had told him and stayed back, ready to do the piloting thing when Jayne returned with the Captain and Zoë. But, no, that was the smart thing now wasn’t it? Why would he go and do that.
So instead, he’s being pulled up out of the mud by the same big man who threw him into it. “Who are you?” He bellowed, his eyes furrowed in anger. The other two men trained their guns on Wash, rain dripping over the end of the barrels.
Wash stammered. “I- I’m just looking for people. Wouldn’t happen to have seen them, have you? Two guys, and a lady? Well she’s not so much a lady as an ass-kicking machine. And not so much two guys as--”
“Are you drunk?”
“A little.” It took a bit of liquid courage for him to finally step foot off the boat. He didn’t like the idea of Jayne going at it alone. Didn’t seem right.
Of course now Wash had wished he’d told someone what he was planning on doing before he went ahead and did it.
The bigger man with his hand wrenched in Wash’s jacket grunted and began to drag him down the muddy path toward the house. It was smaller than Wash had imagined it would be, and it looked like the men dragging him along were the only security outside. Definitely not the castle with sentries Wash had envisioned, not that anyone gave him that idea in the first place. Imagination is a tricky thing like that.
They reached the door and one of the other men pushed it open, a flood of light pouring out onto the wet porch and… laughter?
“Wǒ bú xiāngxìn!” Mal’s voice, full of humor, bellowed from within.
“No, it’s true though!” Another man laughed. As Wash was led into the room the laughter ebbed a bit, all eyes turning on him. He stood there; soaked, muddy, a broken nose and a bruised ego. By the scene in front of him it was pretty clear things were in control.
Mal sat across a table from another man, most likely the head honcho Jayne had talked about, with a big albeit confused grin on his face and a cup in his hand. Zoë was next to him with a smirk on her face, looking Wash up or down. That woman never did seem to like him much, and this evening sure wasn’t helping his image. Jayne on the other hand looked utterly let down as he sat against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Truth to tell he looked almost shocked to see Wash there.
“And what have we here?” Asked the head honcho. Wash really hoped he’d learn the mans name soon, ‘cause that just seemed a bit… strange to keep referring to him as. The man stood and walked across the room in a few quick gates. Mal was up right after him and made his way by Wash’s side quickly.
“He’s one of mine.” He said, a convincingly proud smile on his face and a pat on his shoulder. “The pilot I was telling you about earlier.”
The other man’s face lit up. “Ah, I’ve heard many good things about you! Come, sit and have a drink with us. You look cold.”
Wash went to take a step forward but Mal’s hand kept him firmly planted where he was. “I’m mighty sorry, Sonny, but we really ought to be on our way. If you want us to pick up that cargo for you we have to make sure our ship is in order.”
The other man, Sonny’s face fell. But he perked up real quick, which seemed to be in his nature. “Well, if you must you must.” At that Zoë and Jayne stood and made their way toward the door.
As Jayne passed Sonny he turned toward him and muttered, “Sorry about shooting your son and all.”
“It’s just a flesh wound,” he laughed. “He’ll live.”
And then they were out the door, walking through the rain in silence. Wash could feel a strong talking to coming at him though, so the silence was a welcome break.
………..
And a talking to he had. It was surprisingly less painful he imagined it would be, but he imagined it was mostly because Mal did kind of feel bad about breaking his nose and all. But being drunk while a mission was going on, and leaving the ship in the hands of the sleeping crew-who all were none too happy to find out about that when they woke up-was not something to let go lightly. But seeing as how nobody was harmed and quite frankly they got a job out of the whole thing, the talking to stayed at just that; a verbal warning.
So there he sat, alone in his pilot’s chair again. While the rest of Serenity got ready for their days or went to take a nap, Wash just sat there and avoided doing or touching anything he didn’t already know.
Today he was bent on not screwing things up like he did last night. Though that face thing, totally not his fault.
“What happened to your face?” Wash turned and looked at Jayne who was leaning against the doorframe in his clothes from the night before. He took another bite from his protein bar and continued looking at the pilot.
Wash shrugged. “Guy came in and tried to shoot me, so Mal had me headbutt him.”
Jayne stepped closer and shook his head. “No, I mean the mud.” Wash lifted his hand up and felt his cheek, forgetting that the rain hadn’t washed all of the mud away. Changing his clothes didn’t mean he was cleaned up.
“Oh.” He paused. “Well, I… thought you were in trouble.”
“So you tried to rescue me.” More a statement than a question. He sat in the co-pilots chair and leaned in toward Wash, chewing the last bit of his bar.
“I- I guess.” Wash stammered. “I was worried.”
“Were you drunk?”
“Why does everyone keep asking me that?”
“To be fair,” Jayne smirked. “I’ve asked you twice.”
Wash sighed and let his head fall back. This was a bad day. He almost never has bad days, considering the line of work he’s in now. Boring days, yes. Occasionally exciting days, definitely. But… This was one for the record books.
“Hey.” Wash looked back at Jayne, whose face had softened some. It made the man look less terrifying. “You didn’t screw up.” And that was as best a compliment Wash had ever hoped to get from him. Something in side of him burned.
“Thanks.”
“Seriously, though. Drunk or not, what you did wasn’t the smartest thing. But…” He paused and looked away, trying to think of the words. “I… appreciate it.”
The two of them looked at each other for a long moment, neither one saying a word. It was an interesting silence, Wash thought. Full of something he couldn’t put his finger on.
And then he laughed.
Jayne furrowed his brow. “What?”
“I’m sorry.” Wash stifled his sudden laughter as best he could. “Sorry, I’m just not used to you acting like this.”
Jayne began to stand. “If you don’t--”
“No! It’s not--”
“Was just trying to be civil--”
“I like it.” Wash blurt out. Jayne paused, not looking at the pilot. Obviously this was out of the man’s comfort zone and Wash felt that hot thing inside of him twist. “It suits you.” He stood and smiled. “I’m not saying you ought to get a suit and tie or anything, but civility works for you.”
Jayne turned and met the other mans gaze, a worried look in his eye.
Wash went on. “Look, I was worried is all. Everybody had disappeared and I didn’t like the idea of you going out alone. Sure I was drunk, but--”
And suddenly Wash found himself very acquainted with Jayne’s mouth. At first he was a little confused, but that was quickly washed away by the heat surrounding his lips. He let himself be taken.
Jayne’s hands held the sides of Wash’s face as he furiously pressed their lips together. Not too hard, and but none to gentle. It was a spur of the moment kind of thing neither of them expected to happen, and yet… It felt good.
Wash went to put his hand on Jayne’s hip, to pull him in closer, but Jayne flinched. He suddenly released Wash’s mouth from his and took a step back. He stared at the shorter man, confusion and fear playing across his face. His lips still glistening from their kiss.
Without a word the merc turned heel and stormed out the door, leaving Wash in a state of foggy confusion. He stared at the threshold for a few moments before realizing exactly what just happened. He tried to think of something to say, but the only thing that came out of his lips was a weak “Thank you?”
Life was about to get much more confusing. As they say, when it rains it pours.
Fluid Series: Chapter 1, When It Rains, It Pours | Chapter 2, Fire Water
When It Rains, It Pours
By Jeremy
Pairings: Wash/Jayne, Mal/Zoë
Rating: PG-13 at best
Summary: Wash is having a hell of a night, and even more confusing morning after. Warning: Thar be slashy content, but nothing sexy yet.
Words: 4275
A/N: This is my first Firefly fic, and honestly my first fanfic in yeeeeears. I needed an exercise to get my mind muscles working again so I could get back into write et al, and this was the muse I was given. It's the first chapter of a long fic.
Rain falling over Serenity was not a common occurrence, considering the large expanses of time she generally avoided atmosphere and everything it entailed. But during those rare occurrences when they had to stay on a wet rock a little longer than expected, and when the ship was quiet and still- a rare thing in itself- Wash would make his way to the bridge, get cozy in his chair and watch the water sheet down the glass face of Serenity. The pattering of raindrops on the hull was always nearly enough to make him fall straight to sleep.
Not this rainy night, though. Nope. Tonight Wash had the not-so-rare fortune of having a gun pointed at him by a man seeking to do him some bodily harm if he did not fully cooperate.
“Where’s he at?” The man snarled from behind him, the guns barrel oh so firmly planted at the base of Wash’s neck.
His calm now officially broke he slowly raised his arms in defense. “There’s a lot of ‘he’s’ on--”
Wash felt his head snap back, stubby fingers entangled in his short hair. “The Captain, nǐ báichī fēi sè wàitào.”
Wash finally got his first look at the pudgy bull-faced thug, albeit upside down. He scowled, biting back the urge to tell this man-bovine hybrid that he in fact did not fight in the war; brown-coat or otherwise. Instead he opted for the truth.
“I have no idea.” He really didn’t. Both Mal and Zoë decided it was a good night to go gallivanting around town trying to scour for any jobs they could. It was tradition.
The other man lowered his face over Wash’s, giving him a good look at the filth and grime coating the boarder-dweller. Not to mention his overpowering breathe; which smelt like stale tobacco mixed with sour milk.
“Well,” the creep growled, a wicked smile carving through his face. “You’d better get an idea soon.”
“I’ve got an idea.” A thunk, and the suddenly Wash became very acquainted with the other mans face. And pain. Was it just him, or did the world taste a bit like blood all of a sudden?
The thug slinked to the ground, unconscious, Mal stood over him poised with a metal pipe. “You okay there, Wash?” He asked as he nudged the cow-man onto his back with his toe.
Wash took this opportunity to finally jump to his feet, hand to face to stem the flow of blood from his nose. “Shì shénme zài dìyù, Mal?”
“What?” The man was truly dumbfounded, defensive even.
“You hit him! Into my face!” His voice pathetically nasally.
“Well I’m terribly sorry about your pretty little face there, but the man did kind of have a gun in your back.”
Wash hazarded a look in a mirror to inspect the damage and whimpered. “My nose…” He went to his console and searched for a handkerchief or something to sop the blood off his face. “You might have thought to wait until he jumped up in surprise from your intrusion before hitting him. Or, I don’t know, hit him from the side. Or-I hope that pipe isn’t important.”
Mal quickly concealed the long bronze pipe behind his back. “I’ll put it back.”
Wash sighed and, giving up his search for the elusive hanky, opting instead to use the bottom of his already blood spattered yellow undershirt. His button up tropical sunset shirt, fortunately, was spared the brutality and was laid across the arm of the pilot’s chair.
And thus was the scene Zoë decided to walk in on. A rotund man with a gun laying unconscious on the floor, Mal standing with a pipe behind his back, and Wash with his bloody shirt pulled up showing off his chest and covering his face. Just how Wash wanted her to see him.
“Quite the party.”
She walked in and stood next to her husband, assessing the scene. “What’d I miss?”
“Still not quite sure yet,” Mal replied as he wrapped an arm around his wife’s hip, giving a little squeeze. He turned his eyes on Wash. “Mind filing us in?” His tone was almost accusing.
Wash sighed. This was not the thing he wanted tonight. Relaxation was on his agenda, not intrigue and… whatever else this was. “He asked for you.”
Mal smiled. “Well, I sure haven’t been the ire of anyone’s attention for a while now.” His excitement
“Been about a week, hasn’t it?” Zoë chimed in, an almost-smirk on her face as she met eyes with her man.
Mal smiled back. “Seems like forever.” He looked back at Wash, borderline-giddy grin still on his lips. “Well, considering the rock we’ve landed on I think I have an idea on just who sent this rat after me. I’ll head down an’ round up the big guy, you go get your nose--” He paused and made an open palm circular motion over his face. “--checked out by the doc. Zoë, go and fetch the doc, let him know he’s got a patient, then meet me by the mule. We’ve got a man to see about some cows.“
With that Mal and Zoë turned and walked out of the bridge, leaving a confused and kind of woozy Wash standing over the greasy unconscious man.
Hurried footsteps came back toward the room, Mal emerging through the threshold. “Oh, do me a favor and watch him while I grab Jayne before heading to the infirmary. Just make sure he doesn’t do… stuff.” With a wave and a nod he was back down the hall. Wash sank into the chair, defeated.
Then kicked the guy, for retribution’s sake.
………..
“So,” started the bleary eyed Simon. “What happened?”
Wash squinted when the good doctor brought a magnifying glass-burning light hybrid thing a little too close to his eyes, which in turn began to water. “You want the long or the short story?” Simon didn’t answer, what with being busy looking at his nose and all. And since talking kind of hurt too much right now, “Short story then. Let’s just say never get too intimate with a strange mans face.”
That elicited a reaction from Simon. “I’m sorry?” He pulled the bright light away from Wash’s face and turned to get a doo-dad off his tray.
“Well, I mean AUGH-” Simon shoved the business end of his tool into either nostril and just like that his nose was realigned again.
“Sorry.” He went back to his tray and picked up another potential death trinket. Wash eyed it cautiously, this time keeping his trap shut. It was smaller, thinner, and coming toward his face. Simon gingerly laid it across the bridge of his nose, than slightly less sudden than it’s intrusion pulled the clamp thing from his nostrils.
Wash fought the urge to feel around his face when Simon turned his back. It felt all right though, less sideways at least from what he could tell.
“I don’t have the best pain killers at the moment, so take these pills three times a day after eating for the rest of the week, or if it hurts immensely. After that,” He turned back toward Wash and placed the small bag filled with little white pills in his hand. “I’ve heard tale that whiskey can take the pain away.”
………..
The girls were all still asleep, and Simon soon followed after giving Wash a clean bill of health aside from the broken nose. That left the pilot all by his lonesome down in the ships kitchen. He decided to forego his doctors prescription and instead opted for a good old fashioned ‘let’s get all kinds of sloppy drunk while everyone else has fun adventuring or sleeping’ night cap. That was the funny thing about alcohol and scavenging. On almost every ship the Captain ever led a mission on they would come back with armfuls of alcohol. Good stuff, too. It was the damnedest thing.
In a way it made sense to Wash, why there was always so much of the stuff left on the ships. When you’re faced with your impending doom and in dire need of escape, the last thing on your mind is to grab something that’ll fog up your mind and potentially run you afoul of the whole surviving thing you’re so intent on.
But that was the funny thing, because why was there so much alcohol on the ship in the first place? Well, that was a simple answer really. It was there for the long journeys through black nothingness. You might be there with everyone you cared about and had nothing but loves loving loviness around you at all times; but in the end you needed an escape. Because no matter how many people you know around you, in the vast emptiness of the universe… you always felt alone.
Wash raised his cup over his head, saluting to no one in particular. “Here’s to loneliness and head injuries.” He tossed the last gulp back and let the burn slide down his throat as he listened to the rainfall over Serenity.
It was a new life he was looking for when he took the job piloting this boat. He’d worked with countless crew on dozens of ships, but all of the people he met were all so… distant. Every ship was either in spotless condition or in perfect disrepair in all the same ways, each seeming to be replicas of each other. Every person on board filling their role, both as a job and as a lifestyle. It was bizarre, like boys playing soldier.
And yet it was the soldiers that set themselves apart. He couldn’t explain why, but right from the very beginning he felt like these people were different. This ship was going to be different- because honestly, Firefly class isn’t something people go out of their way for unless they’ve tuned into that something… that something in the air when you’re in her.
Didn’t hurt that the soldiers were two of the shiniest looking folk he ever did come across, both in attitude and pure aesthetic. It was pretty apparent from the get-go that they were a pair but that never did stop Wash from fantasizing that one day the Captain would be gone and his delicious first mate would go crazy with worry, needing Wash to console her. Or the Captain is having a particularly rough day and he just needs a little… relaxation. Or they both need some relaxation. At the same time. Oh man, the stories he came up with in his head while he sat in that chair alone all that time.
In fact, Serenity has had a whole run of beautiful folk pass through her. Sadly, he never did get to see any action with any of them. It was a sad affair, but most times the person was already interested in someone else, crazy, or just otherwise not interested in him.
The Captain had his first mate and wife, Kaylee and Simon did that whole dancing around thing they did, Inara was otherwise… unavailable, River was insane, and Jayne…
Jayne was something else. He’d considered Jayne many a’times, but that man was a walking enigma. Either he terrified you or confused you with his ambiguity, which was equally terrifying.
Even if given the chance, Wash wasn’t sure about Jayne-
“Wash!” He felt a nudge, and a throb in his head. “Wash, wake up.” The frantic raspy voice urged him.
He opened his eyes, unsure of when he passed out. He glanced around the darkened kitchen, his whole body aching almost as much as his head. That didn’t stop the possessor of the offending voice to pull him to his feet and sending a wave of shock through his numb system.
Wash looked at the hand holding him, and followed the trail of his arm up to his face. “Jayne?”
“Wash, man, something bad went down.” It was still too dark and Wash was still too drunk to quite understand what was going on. But the larger man was scared, and soaked with rain. If his head were clearer he’d take time to try and figure out which of the two was causing the man to shiver so violently.
“What’s going on?” He felt himself turned around and shoved toward the steps. “What the hell is going on, Jayne?”
“Gorram people double crossed us something good. I need you to do some piloting so I can do some heroing, liǎojiě?”
Wash was now verging on panic and sobriety. “What happened?”
“Just get behind the gorram wheel and steer this thing back toward the town. I’ll tell you where to go from there, and-are you drunk?” His nose was crinkled up as he finally caught a wiff of the smell emanating off of the pilot.
“Only a little.”
“Dí suǒyǒu shídài, Wash!” Jayne shoved the smaller man into the cockpit. “Fly.” Without hesitation Wash did as he was told. Fear had sobered him up pretty good, but he still had a hard time seeing clearly in all the rain and with his left eye slightly swollen from his recent close encounter. But with directions from Jayne they managed to get close enough for their rescue without getting too close for detection.
Wash followed Jayne to his bunk after settling the ship down. He stood at the top of the ladder and started asking questions anew. “What. Happened?”
There was a pause as Jayne busied himself with making clicking noises and scraped metal together just out of view down in his bunk. “The head honcho, I forget his name, he weren’t none too pleased with his losing money over cows that got taken away from him and his town by the Alliance.” He dropped something and it rolled toward the ladder, a half dressed Jayne clambered over to retrieve it, affording Wash a quick glance at bare skin. A glance he appreciated, but didn’t have time for that kind of ogling right at the moment. “We went in, mostly unarmed, and the man goes and tells his brutes to grab us. Separate us.”
There’s a pause. Total silence.
“I heard shouting from another room. I couldn’t even tell if it were Zoë or Mal. I finally managed to untie myself, kick some people in the head and shoot others while I tried to find the others. When I couldn’t find ‘em I came back to the ship.”
“You ran away?” There was slightly more anger and shock in his voice than even Wash was ready for. There was another pause from down below before Jayne stepped to the bottom the ladder, his shirt still off.
“I came back to arm up.” Jayne had plenty of venom himself. “Look here, pilot. I did what I could for those two idiots, but I weren’t about to get myself killed right then because I wasn’t allowed to bring enough weapons with me. Now, I’m going to try and make good on my part. I suggest you just stay sober and get ready to fly us out the moment we’re back on this boat.” And with that, he stomped out of view and continued to get ready.
Wash squatted over the entryway, silent and somber. Without a word he stood up and turned away.
“This will end well for him.” Wash yelped and jumped back, nearly falling into Jayne’s bunk. River stood in the middle of the hall staring at him with those big Doe like eyes. “It’s okay, everything is going to be okay. I promise. No more empty space.”
“That’s…” Wash stammered as he eased himself around River, doing his best to blend into the wall. He still wasn’t totally used to this girl. He watched her as he made his way back toward the bridge. “That’s good to know.” She smiled at him then looked sad.
“Mind the gap.”
………..
It was times like these that brought something out of the folk on the S.S. Serenity. When times were tough and people were in danger; everyone got pumped. It didn’t seem to matter if you were the gung ho mercenary-for-hire stuffed to the gills with guns, or the even-tempered Shepard. Once they found out their friends were in need of help, they went and helped them: even if it wasn’t the smart thing to do.
Which would explain why Wash was now eating mud, completely drenched and freezing cold. He should have done just as Jayne had told him and stayed back, ready to do the piloting thing when Jayne returned with the Captain and Zoë. But, no, that was the smart thing now wasn’t it? Why would he go and do that.
So instead, he’s being pulled up out of the mud by the same big man who threw him into it. “Who are you?” He bellowed, his eyes furrowed in anger. The other two men trained their guns on Wash, rain dripping over the end of the barrels.
Wash stammered. “I- I’m just looking for people. Wouldn’t happen to have seen them, have you? Two guys, and a lady? Well she’s not so much a lady as an ass-kicking machine. And not so much two guys as--”
“Are you drunk?”
“A little.” It took a bit of liquid courage for him to finally step foot off the boat. He didn’t like the idea of Jayne going at it alone. Didn’t seem right.
Of course now Wash had wished he’d told someone what he was planning on doing before he went ahead and did it.
The bigger man with his hand wrenched in Wash’s jacket grunted and began to drag him down the muddy path toward the house. It was smaller than Wash had imagined it would be, and it looked like the men dragging him along were the only security outside. Definitely not the castle with sentries Wash had envisioned, not that anyone gave him that idea in the first place. Imagination is a tricky thing like that.
They reached the door and one of the other men pushed it open, a flood of light pouring out onto the wet porch and… laughter?
“Wǒ bú xiāngxìn!” Mal’s voice, full of humor, bellowed from within.
“No, it’s true though!” Another man laughed. As Wash was led into the room the laughter ebbed a bit, all eyes turning on him. He stood there; soaked, muddy, a broken nose and a bruised ego. By the scene in front of him it was pretty clear things were in control.
Mal sat across a table from another man, most likely the head honcho Jayne had talked about, with a big albeit confused grin on his face and a cup in his hand. Zoë was next to him with a smirk on her face, looking Wash up or down. That woman never did seem to like him much, and this evening sure wasn’t helping his image. Jayne on the other hand looked utterly let down as he sat against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Truth to tell he looked almost shocked to see Wash there.
“And what have we here?” Asked the head honcho. Wash really hoped he’d learn the mans name soon, ‘cause that just seemed a bit… strange to keep referring to him as. The man stood and walked across the room in a few quick gates. Mal was up right after him and made his way by Wash’s side quickly.
“He’s one of mine.” He said, a convincingly proud smile on his face and a pat on his shoulder. “The pilot I was telling you about earlier.”
The other man’s face lit up. “Ah, I’ve heard many good things about you! Come, sit and have a drink with us. You look cold.”
Wash went to take a step forward but Mal’s hand kept him firmly planted where he was. “I’m mighty sorry, Sonny, but we really ought to be on our way. If you want us to pick up that cargo for you we have to make sure our ship is in order.”
The other man, Sonny’s face fell. But he perked up real quick, which seemed to be in his nature. “Well, if you must you must.” At that Zoë and Jayne stood and made their way toward the door.
As Jayne passed Sonny he turned toward him and muttered, “Sorry about shooting your son and all.”
“It’s just a flesh wound,” he laughed. “He’ll live.”
And then they were out the door, walking through the rain in silence. Wash could feel a strong talking to coming at him though, so the silence was a welcome break.
………..
And a talking to he had. It was surprisingly less painful he imagined it would be, but he imagined it was mostly because Mal did kind of feel bad about breaking his nose and all. But being drunk while a mission was going on, and leaving the ship in the hands of the sleeping crew-who all were none too happy to find out about that when they woke up-was not something to let go lightly. But seeing as how nobody was harmed and quite frankly they got a job out of the whole thing, the talking to stayed at just that; a verbal warning.
So there he sat, alone in his pilot’s chair again. While the rest of Serenity got ready for their days or went to take a nap, Wash just sat there and avoided doing or touching anything he didn’t already know.
Today he was bent on not screwing things up like he did last night. Though that face thing, totally not his fault.
“What happened to your face?” Wash turned and looked at Jayne who was leaning against the doorframe in his clothes from the night before. He took another bite from his protein bar and continued looking at the pilot.
Wash shrugged. “Guy came in and tried to shoot me, so Mal had me headbutt him.”
Jayne stepped closer and shook his head. “No, I mean the mud.” Wash lifted his hand up and felt his cheek, forgetting that the rain hadn’t washed all of the mud away. Changing his clothes didn’t mean he was cleaned up.
“Oh.” He paused. “Well, I… thought you were in trouble.”
“So you tried to rescue me.” More a statement than a question. He sat in the co-pilots chair and leaned in toward Wash, chewing the last bit of his bar.
“I- I guess.” Wash stammered. “I was worried.”
“Were you drunk?”
“Why does everyone keep asking me that?”
“To be fair,” Jayne smirked. “I’ve asked you twice.”
Wash sighed and let his head fall back. This was a bad day. He almost never has bad days, considering the line of work he’s in now. Boring days, yes. Occasionally exciting days, definitely. But… This was one for the record books.
“Hey.” Wash looked back at Jayne, whose face had softened some. It made the man look less terrifying. “You didn’t screw up.” And that was as best a compliment Wash had ever hoped to get from him. Something in side of him burned.
“Thanks.”
“Seriously, though. Drunk or not, what you did wasn’t the smartest thing. But…” He paused and looked away, trying to think of the words. “I… appreciate it.”
The two of them looked at each other for a long moment, neither one saying a word. It was an interesting silence, Wash thought. Full of something he couldn’t put his finger on.
And then he laughed.
Jayne furrowed his brow. “What?”
“I’m sorry.” Wash stifled his sudden laughter as best he could. “Sorry, I’m just not used to you acting like this.”
Jayne began to stand. “If you don’t--”
“No! It’s not--”
“Was just trying to be civil--”
“I like it.” Wash blurt out. Jayne paused, not looking at the pilot. Obviously this was out of the man’s comfort zone and Wash felt that hot thing inside of him twist. “It suits you.” He stood and smiled. “I’m not saying you ought to get a suit and tie or anything, but civility works for you.”
Jayne turned and met the other mans gaze, a worried look in his eye.
Wash went on. “Look, I was worried is all. Everybody had disappeared and I didn’t like the idea of you going out alone. Sure I was drunk, but--”
And suddenly Wash found himself very acquainted with Jayne’s mouth. At first he was a little confused, but that was quickly washed away by the heat surrounding his lips. He let himself be taken.
Jayne’s hands held the sides of Wash’s face as he furiously pressed their lips together. Not too hard, and but none to gentle. It was a spur of the moment kind of thing neither of them expected to happen, and yet… It felt good.
Wash went to put his hand on Jayne’s hip, to pull him in closer, but Jayne flinched. He suddenly released Wash’s mouth from his and took a step back. He stared at the shorter man, confusion and fear playing across his face. His lips still glistening from their kiss.
Without a word the merc turned heel and stormed out the door, leaving Wash in a state of foggy confusion. He stared at the threshold for a few moments before realizing exactly what just happened. He tried to think of something to say, but the only thing that came out of his lips was a weak “Thank you?”
Life was about to get much more confusing. As they say, when it rains it pours.
Fluid Series: Chapter 1, When It Rains, It Pours | Chapter 2, Fire Water