Meanwhile, back at the space station...
Working on the next part of "On Location," but in the meantime here's a little Firefly piece, if you're into that sort of thing.
Untitled
Author: Dessert First
Fandom: Firefly
Pairing: Mal, Zoe, ?
Rating: PG
It's late, the bar is crowded with lowlifes, and the drinks are watery. Just as well, you figure, best head back. There are worse fates, after all, and you'll more than likely find someone interesting soon enough.
But maybe someone up there is looking out for you after all, because just as you set down your empty glass and scoot your chair back from the grimy little table, a firm grip lands on your shoulder. A solid prescence at your back leans in to graze your ear with soft lips.
"Hey," the prescence whispers.
You whip your head around to see a handsome brown-haired lad in a dark shirt, suspenders and fetchingly tight pants straightening up with a mischievous grin.
Well.
This looks promising.
He grins at your obvious perusal and plops his large frame into a chair. "You are a very lucky individual."
"Is that so?"
"Oh, yes, indeed!" He leans across the table as if to impart something confidential. "Wanna know why?"
"Oh, I'm on *fire* with curiosity," you deadpan.
"'Cause my friend over there has taken a shine to you." He tilts his head to stare pointedly over your shoulder.
You follow his gaze to a little table in the corner where a stunning woman watches you both, toying with a half-empty glass. She wears a riot of curls neatly tied to hang down her back, a few wisps escaping to frame her large, dark eyes and rich, dark skin. Noticing your attention, she graces you with a little smile made sensuous by her lush lips and the knowing tilt to her elegantly shaped eyebrow. She tips the glass in your direction, toasting you, then brings it to her mouth and drains it dry.
"Hey. Hey!"
With considerable effort, you tear your gaze from the entrancing sight of woman's tongue delicately licking a stray drop from her lower lip. The brown-haired fellow is waving a large and capable-looking hand in front of your face, looking equal parts darkly pleased and just... well, dark. Perhaps even a little *dis*pleased.
"Look," he says, "It's getting late, so I'm just gonna lay it out for you."
You lean back in your chair, well beyond intrigued at this point.
"Like I said, my friend over there has taken a shine to you." He pauses for dramatic effect, but hurries on as he notices you turning back to look at the woman again. "And the fact is, so have I."
*That* catapults your attention back to him. "You don't say?" You sit back for a minute, letting your eyes linger on the tiny triangle of firm chest peeking through the man's decorously buttoned up shirt. When he speaks again, your attention is drawn up his strong throat to the sweet-looking little bow of his upper lip and the tempting curve of the lower one.
"The thing is," he is saying, "my friend and I go way back, see? Been through a lot." His pale eyes grow a bit unfocused, then snap back to you. You wonder what might lie behind that door in his mind he's obviously just bolted shut. "So when we go out on the town, we have a few simple rules, watching each other's backs and all. You understand."
"Of course." Well, no, actually, but these two are intriguing enough to be worth tolerating a few idiosyncracies.
"What I'm getting at here, and you understand this is a delicate situation, is that my friend and I both want to get to know you a little better. Through sex, mainly." He grins a sudden, heartstopping grin. "Well, actually, it would probably end up bein' just the sex, 'cause we ship out tomorrow mornin' soon as we wrap up a little business we got pending."
You sit there cooly as a fresh spring breeze, hoping your politely interested expression is successfully shielding the wave of pure glee that breaks over you at this most singularly perfect proposition. There are some definite stirrings down below.
"...but we don't share."
"What?!" Composure shattered, you turn back to the woman, who has been tracking the conversation, but her serene face gives off no clues. She can't have heard the conversation over the din of the bar, but she seems to interpret your what-the-hell expression and answers with a nod.
"Yeah, well, me and my friend are pretty easygoing most of the time, but sharing just ain't our thing. Not with each other, anyway. That's why we had to make up the rule," the man explains.
"Well, how very reasonable of you two. Charming really. A little game. And I suppose I get to choose?"
Oblivious to your testy tone, he grins, wide and delighted. "Well, right you are! You get to choose."
Your eyes narrow. "And what's the catch? Other than only getting to enjoy the company of *one* of you on what remains of this fine evening?"
The man looks offended. "No catch. Can't a fella be upfront about what he wants? You pick me, or you pick her, end of story. Just make it snappy, would ya? The night ain't exactly young and one of us is still gonna have to do some cruising." He lets his eyes trail suggestively down your body. "Class act like you's gotta be used to having their pick of the room, so what do you say?"
Well, this is quite the conundrum, and certainly one of the most creative pick-up techniques you've come across. You idly wonder how often they play this little game, and how much money they're likely to have bet on its outcome. They must take turns picking the target and making the first move. Your gaze travels back and forth between these tempting prospects. They are both quite attractive, of course, but there is something else about them. It is as if they are possessed of a degree of restlessness bubbling up just under the skin. Their expressions are cool and collected, the woman serene and the man almost jovial, but underneath that... Again you wonder what might lie in wait behind that door the man so obviously bolted shut earlier. You lick your lips, their avid gazes not escaping your attention. Oh, this *is* a real dilemma. Perhaps, with the proper degree of seduction, you might yet turn the tables on the pair. It is only by supreme will that you manage to repress the shudder of delight you feel at such a prospect.
"Inara!"
You are grateful for the rigourous training that clamps down on the string of curses in your head upon hearing that particular voice in this particular place.
"Terrence," you greet the dapper fellow who strolls up to your table with a practiced grin.
"Slumming again, are we?" he tsks in your ear.
The handsome fellow seated in front of you and the woman across the room both look displeased at this new development. Ah, well. Nothing for to do but make the best of it now. Not that those two won't be fueling more than a few fantasies from now on.
"Just having a quiet drink," you say as you stand and toss a few coins on the table. "You know the Senator doesn't like to stock any of the hard stuff at her parties."
"Afraid Mister Senator will make too much of an embarrasement of himself, no doubt," Terrence smirks. "Speaking of which, I do believe they're looking for you, my dear. Something about hearing you play that new sonnata everyone's raving about."
You stifle a sigh. That damn sonnata is all anybody wants to hear these days.
The woman's gaze is already scanning the room for another prospect, but the man, at least, looks dissapointed. You nod at him. "A pleasure, Mr...?
"Smith," he says smoothly, his eyes lingering distrustfully on Terrence. "And the pleasure was all mine, Ms...?"
You smile and play along. "Jones," you say. "Do look me up next time you're in Persephone."
"Likewise, I'm sure."
You follow Terrence out the door, your momentary struggle for composure a thing of the past. It's a small 'verse, really. Who knows? You have a feeling you just might be meeting up with those two again sometime.
---
Author's notes: Inara, Mal, Zoe. A "what if" scenario that takes place before the series. If you like, you can do what I do and pretend it takes place the night before Inara meets Mal to discuss renting the shuttle, at which time hilarious hijinks ensue.
As always, I appreciate your opinions. This piece has been sitting around on my hard drive forever because I just don't know...
Untitled
Author: Dessert First
Fandom: Firefly
Pairing: Mal, Zoe, ?
Rating: PG
It's late, the bar is crowded with lowlifes, and the drinks are watery. Just as well, you figure, best head back. There are worse fates, after all, and you'll more than likely find someone interesting soon enough.
But maybe someone up there is looking out for you after all, because just as you set down your empty glass and scoot your chair back from the grimy little table, a firm grip lands on your shoulder. A solid prescence at your back leans in to graze your ear with soft lips.
"Hey," the prescence whispers.
You whip your head around to see a handsome brown-haired lad in a dark shirt, suspenders and fetchingly tight pants straightening up with a mischievous grin.
Well.
This looks promising.
He grins at your obvious perusal and plops his large frame into a chair. "You are a very lucky individual."
"Is that so?"
"Oh, yes, indeed!" He leans across the table as if to impart something confidential. "Wanna know why?"
"Oh, I'm on *fire* with curiosity," you deadpan.
"'Cause my friend over there has taken a shine to you." He tilts his head to stare pointedly over your shoulder.
You follow his gaze to a little table in the corner where a stunning woman watches you both, toying with a half-empty glass. She wears a riot of curls neatly tied to hang down her back, a few wisps escaping to frame her large, dark eyes and rich, dark skin. Noticing your attention, she graces you with a little smile made sensuous by her lush lips and the knowing tilt to her elegantly shaped eyebrow. She tips the glass in your direction, toasting you, then brings it to her mouth and drains it dry.
"Hey. Hey!"
With considerable effort, you tear your gaze from the entrancing sight of woman's tongue delicately licking a stray drop from her lower lip. The brown-haired fellow is waving a large and capable-looking hand in front of your face, looking equal parts darkly pleased and just... well, dark. Perhaps even a little *dis*pleased.
"Look," he says, "It's getting late, so I'm just gonna lay it out for you."
You lean back in your chair, well beyond intrigued at this point.
"Like I said, my friend over there has taken a shine to you." He pauses for dramatic effect, but hurries on as he notices you turning back to look at the woman again. "And the fact is, so have I."
*That* catapults your attention back to him. "You don't say?" You sit back for a minute, letting your eyes linger on the tiny triangle of firm chest peeking through the man's decorously buttoned up shirt. When he speaks again, your attention is drawn up his strong throat to the sweet-looking little bow of his upper lip and the tempting curve of the lower one.
"The thing is," he is saying, "my friend and I go way back, see? Been through a lot." His pale eyes grow a bit unfocused, then snap back to you. You wonder what might lie behind that door in his mind he's obviously just bolted shut. "So when we go out on the town, we have a few simple rules, watching each other's backs and all. You understand."
"Of course." Well, no, actually, but these two are intriguing enough to be worth tolerating a few idiosyncracies.
"What I'm getting at here, and you understand this is a delicate situation, is that my friend and I both want to get to know you a little better. Through sex, mainly." He grins a sudden, heartstopping grin. "Well, actually, it would probably end up bein' just the sex, 'cause we ship out tomorrow mornin' soon as we wrap up a little business we got pending."
You sit there cooly as a fresh spring breeze, hoping your politely interested expression is successfully shielding the wave of pure glee that breaks over you at this most singularly perfect proposition. There are some definite stirrings down below.
"...but we don't share."
"What?!" Composure shattered, you turn back to the woman, who has been tracking the conversation, but her serene face gives off no clues. She can't have heard the conversation over the din of the bar, but she seems to interpret your what-the-hell expression and answers with a nod.
"Yeah, well, me and my friend are pretty easygoing most of the time, but sharing just ain't our thing. Not with each other, anyway. That's why we had to make up the rule," the man explains.
"Well, how very reasonable of you two. Charming really. A little game. And I suppose I get to choose?"
Oblivious to your testy tone, he grins, wide and delighted. "Well, right you are! You get to choose."
Your eyes narrow. "And what's the catch? Other than only getting to enjoy the company of *one* of you on what remains of this fine evening?"
The man looks offended. "No catch. Can't a fella be upfront about what he wants? You pick me, or you pick her, end of story. Just make it snappy, would ya? The night ain't exactly young and one of us is still gonna have to do some cruising." He lets his eyes trail suggestively down your body. "Class act like you's gotta be used to having their pick of the room, so what do you say?"
Well, this is quite the conundrum, and certainly one of the most creative pick-up techniques you've come across. You idly wonder how often they play this little game, and how much money they're likely to have bet on its outcome. They must take turns picking the target and making the first move. Your gaze travels back and forth between these tempting prospects. They are both quite attractive, of course, but there is something else about them. It is as if they are possessed of a degree of restlessness bubbling up just under the skin. Their expressions are cool and collected, the woman serene and the man almost jovial, but underneath that... Again you wonder what might lie in wait behind that door the man so obviously bolted shut earlier. You lick your lips, their avid gazes not escaping your attention. Oh, this *is* a real dilemma. Perhaps, with the proper degree of seduction, you might yet turn the tables on the pair. It is only by supreme will that you manage to repress the shudder of delight you feel at such a prospect.
"Inara!"
You are grateful for the rigourous training that clamps down on the string of curses in your head upon hearing that particular voice in this particular place.
"Terrence," you greet the dapper fellow who strolls up to your table with a practiced grin.
"Slumming again, are we?" he tsks in your ear.
The handsome fellow seated in front of you and the woman across the room both look displeased at this new development. Ah, well. Nothing for to do but make the best of it now. Not that those two won't be fueling more than a few fantasies from now on.
"Just having a quiet drink," you say as you stand and toss a few coins on the table. "You know the Senator doesn't like to stock any of the hard stuff at her parties."
"Afraid Mister Senator will make too much of an embarrasement of himself, no doubt," Terrence smirks. "Speaking of which, I do believe they're looking for you, my dear. Something about hearing you play that new sonnata everyone's raving about."
You stifle a sigh. That damn sonnata is all anybody wants to hear these days.
The woman's gaze is already scanning the room for another prospect, but the man, at least, looks dissapointed. You nod at him. "A pleasure, Mr...?
"Smith," he says smoothly, his eyes lingering distrustfully on Terrence. "And the pleasure was all mine, Ms...?"
You smile and play along. "Jones," you say. "Do look me up next time you're in Persephone."
"Likewise, I'm sure."
You follow Terrence out the door, your momentary struggle for composure a thing of the past. It's a small 'verse, really. Who knows? You have a feeling you just might be meeting up with those two again sometime.
---
Author's notes: Inara, Mal, Zoe. A "what if" scenario that takes place before the series. If you like, you can do what I do and pretend it takes place the night before Inara meets Mal to discuss renting the shuttle, at which time hilarious hijinks ensue.
As always, I appreciate your opinions. This piece has been sitting around on my hard drive forever because I just don't know...