Fic: The Shape of the Boundary (Firefly, River/Mal, PG-13)
Title: The Shape of the Boundary
Rating: PG-13
Words: 2768
Pairing: Mal/River
Summary: As usual, the job doesn't go smooth, but maybe sometimes that ain't such a bad thing.
Notes: Written for jessicaqueen at fandom_stocking; takes place sometime post-Serenity.
The Shape of the Boundary
Wasn't like Mal had started out the day planning to end up with River sitting in his lap, his hands hot between her legs, hers tugging at his hair, with the way her mouth moved against his giving every evidence of her being awfully pleased with the situation.
Way he saw it, if anybody'd asked him that morning, he'd have said it sounded like a one-way ticket to Shepherd's special hell.
Course, he reflected, as River shifted in his lap, rubbing up against places she rightly shouldn't even know about, that morning had been a mighty long time ago.
***
Looking back, it had all started going to hell about the time he let himself think that just this once, a job looked to be going smooth.
Sure, the folks who'd been at the address Badger'd given him were none too savory looking, and the alcohol they'd insisted on sharing with him tasted more like it'd been intended as some kind of industrial solvent - and maybe the look the one called Jimmy the Snake had given his politely-termed 'associates' when Mal asked to see the goods made him wish he'd brought along Zoe or Jayne in addition to River - but on the whole, things weren't going too badly; leastways, nobody'd started shooting or pulled or a knife or otherwise spilled blood, which Mal was attributing mostly to the fact that he'd made River wait for him outside.
Of course, that was the moment she chose to make her entrance, pushing open the heavy door like it were made of paper and coming right on in, moving in that smooth, graceful way she had, all unhurried. Like a cat through a pack of growling dogs, Mal thought, noticing the way every man in the room took notice of her right off, their eyes on her as she walked up to stand at his side.
“And who've we got here, then?” Jimmy wasn't leering, at least, but he was grinning in a way that made Mal want to step in front of her, an impulse she must have sensed, the way she grabbed his hand, squeezing it harder than he'd have thought her capable of, bringing to mind the reason she was the only one with him was Jimmy's insistence that they make the deal alone, no crew.
(“Now, old Jimmy, he don't like it when you go in with a big group, see? Makes him think you don't trust him,” Badger had said, grinning from under the brim of his ridiculous hat.
“Funny, seeing as how I absolutely don't trust him.”
Badger'd laughed, sitting there all smug in his office, knowing full well Mal couldn't afford not to take the job. “Yeah, but you don't want him knowing it, right?”)
River's eyes slid towards him on a second's hesitation, like she'd listened to the conversation replaying in his head, and knowing she knew she couldn't just be part of his crew, he wondered what role she'd choose - his sister, his niece, please god not his daughter, he's not that old yet-
And then she went and picked the one he'd never even thought of.
“I'm his wife.”
Smiling, she looked up at him, her pretty little face wearing an expression only the hardest of men could've hoped to resist. “I got bored, waiting for you. I hope you don't mind.”
Mind? Did he mind that she'd just waltzed on in here, putting them both in danger and potentially throwing a wrench straight into the job? Or did he mind that she'd gone and set herself up as his wife, of all gorram things, like she'd been picking up on some of his less-than-pure thoughts lately regarding her, or maybe just the way his eyes got of lingering where they shouldn't.
He minded all of the above, actually, but now wasn't exactly the time to be getting into it. “Course not, sweetheart,” he said, trying to tamp down his irritation and think of what the gui he was supposed to do now. “Think I'm just about done here, anyhow.”
Somehow Mal had managed to get through that moment with what must've been a fairly blank face, cause after all, he was still alive and whole, and Jimmy was talking like maybe he didn't suspect anything.
“We're not done, not exactly,” Jimmy said, turning to his men. “Why don't you boys take the little missus, get her a drink?” Once they'd moved off (River giving Mal a look that, far as he was concerned, could have meant anything from don't do anything stupid to this party is terrible), Jimmy flashed a grin at him, showing way too many teeth to mean anything pleasant. “Your cargo's a little delayed,” he said with a shrug. “Shouldn't be too much of a wait. We'll keep you entertained, no worries.”
Just how stupid do you think I am probably not being the best thing to say under the circumstances, Mal let his eyes wander as he tried to come up with a response that wouldn't get him killed, and a plan to get the hell out of there that would do the same. Not that he got too far down that road; all his thoughts kinda came to a halt when he noticed the way River was hemmed in, the men on either side of her too close for his taste, though she didn't give any indication of being displeased by it.
“Awfully pretty girl, your wife,” Jimmy said, his voice and expression bland. “Awful pretty indeed.”
Mal didn't even bother to respond, not paying any mind to anything but the possessive burn in his blood as he crossed the room. He tried telling himself it was just his sense of protectiveness kicking in, same as it would for any of his crew, tried to ignore the itch in his fingers that made him want to punch both men, first the one who was looking down River's dress and then the other, who was openly smirking at Mal's irritation. Coming up behind her and laying his hand none too gently on River's shoulder, he felt her muscles tense under his fingers. “You alright, darlin'?”
She blinked up at him, her eyebrows coming together. “They were being nice. They gave me a drink,” she said, holding up a half-empty glass as proof.
“Very kind of them, I'm sure.” Mal's glare sent the two men backing away, and his grip on River tightened, his fingers feeling hot, curling at the base of her throat as he guided her further back, to a corner where being overheard was a more distant possibility.
“Tell me what's going on and make it quick,” he said, trying to ignore the way she leaned into him like it was natural, like she spent every day with her arms wrapped around him.
“The snake wants to bite the badger,” she said, her eyes darting towards Jimmy for a second. “Double-cross, take the goods for himself, remove the obstacles.”
So, Jimmy didn't have good things planned for them, which was much as Mal'd already figured; at least that explained why River felt the need to come in and give him some kind of warning. “What in the tian xiao de are they waiting for, then?”
River tipped her head to the side for a moment, her eyes narrowing. “A better offer. Once their buyer is confirmed, we'll be extraneous.”
“Yeah, well,” Mal muttered, shifting his grip to her elbow and heading for the door, “we ain't gonna wait around for that to happen.”
Things never did work out that simple though, and this time was no exception - Jimmy intercepted them long before they got to the door, a full bottle in hand. “You folks can't be headed off now,” he said, stepping in front of them. “Stay for another drink.” Mal hesitated, but the fact that there were half a dozen men now standing idly between them and the door was something of a deterrent, to say nothing of River's restraining hand on his arm. Seemed like a safe enough bet to him that if River didn't want a fight just now, he didn't either.
Jimmy grinned, teeth flashing in the low light. “You got plenty of time. Nobody's going anywhere.”
***
Some time later - he wasn't sure how many minutes had passed, having been measuring his time in bitter gulps of what Jimmy referred to as moonshine - Mal found himself sprawled in a chair, watching River as she sat across from him, straight backed and upright like she'd never even touched the stuff. Truthfully, he wished he hadn't drank so much himself, but between the part of himself that was planning a way out of this mess (that part had decided on a 'wait and see' strategy) and the part that was fixated on getting his hands on River's skin again (that part was still working on things), there wasn't much left over for proper judgment.
As he watched, River's eyes darted to the side, towards where Jimmy and his men were talking in low voices; then, almost before he knew what was happening, she'd downed the rest of her drink in one swallow, and got up, leaning over him.
“What in hell are you doing?” he hissed as she slid into his lap, her knees coming to rest on either side of his hips.
“Getting close enough to talk without being overheard,” she said, her little mouth up close to his ear as she settled herself against his chest, for all the world like she was about to take a nap with him as her bed.
Drinking even more of Jimmy's truly dubious moonshine was probably not the most brilliant idea Mal ever had, but he needed something to distract him from the weight and heat of her in his lap, from the way her hair smelled like honey when he pushed it back to whisper to her, ask the question he was just tipsy enough to let out.
“Why'd you have to go and say you were my wife?”
She frowned a bit, her fingers playing idly in his hair. “Why not? It makes you look good, and me safe. I didn't think you'd mind.”
“Ain't that I mind exactly, darlin', just that-”
“You were angry before,” she said, cutting him off, her fingers dipping down to toy with the buttons on his shirt.
“Yeah, but wasn't you I was angry at.” At this point, Mal wasn't sure who he was more angry at - the ta ma de hun dan in the room, for the way they thought they could look at her, or himself, for the way he'd reacted to it, giving into feelings he hadn't even known were there and acting like she was some delicate flower who couldn't take of herself in the bargain. Now, between the drink fogging up his brain and River sending his senses spinning, he didn't figure he had a whole lot of hope of making sense of anything.
Weren't like he had long to think on it either, the way her lips were suddenly against his, warm and urgent and doing a fine job of kissing for a girl who, far as he knew, didn't have much practice at it.
“They're suspicious. Petty-minded,” she explained, murmuring the words against his lips as she pulled away. “They need convincing.”
“What, don't they believe I'm pretty 'nough for you?” Mal knew he sounded a good bit too petulant for a man who oughta be above all that by rights of age and experience, but truth was, she had him more rattled than he cared to admit.
“Put your hands under my skirt.”
It was a lucky thing he'd only had his glass raised, not actually having gotten to the point of drinking, or he'd probably have choked at her words. As it was he just looked at her over the edge of the glass, knowing he was drunk enough to be sliding towards cynical and angry with her, with this whole mess. And he was just sober enough to wonder somewhat suicidally exactly how far she'd go to keep their cover, almost past the point of feeling the burn down his throat as he knocked back the rest of his drink.
Threading his fingers through the back of her hair, he pulled her close to him, his lips right up against her ear, hearing her breath catch as he flicked his other hand under the edge of her skirt.
“How far you plannin' on taking this, sweetheart? Cause I ain't never been too fond of an audience, but if that's what you had in mind...”
She turned her head to look him in the eye, her gaze steady as a rock even while her lips parted, her breath coming fast. “No,” she said, “though I think you'd be up to the task.” A sharp roll of her hips made her point for her, Mal biting back a groan as she came up against the all-too-obvious evidence of his arousal.
“It's where I keep my gun,” she explained, and it took him a minute, all things considered, to get his mind back to where she meant it to be, to move his fingers far enough up along her thigh to encounter the holster strapped there.
Untangling his left hand from her hair, he slid it under her skirt as well, his fingers running up the divide between fabric and flesh, acutely aware of the heat of her, just beyond his reach.
He wanted to stretch out his fingers just a little further, wanted it as much he could recall wanting anything in a good long while, and something in the way she looked at him, the way she kissed him again, hard and fierce, told him she wanted it too.
“Not the time,” she hissed, pulling her mouth away from his even as she ran her hands through his hair, keeping him close.
Might not have been exactly what he'd longed to do with them, but Mal's fingers were deft enough at the task at hand, her gun free and sitting in his lap within seconds, hidden by her skirt. Still, one of his hands stayed on her skin, his fingers tracing the fold of her hip, and he felt her shudder, watched her close her eyes for a brief second before she rested her forehead against his.
“Brace yourself,” she whispered.
When she threw all of her weight forward against him, sending their chair crashing over backwards, the sound of it got lost in the door bursting open, in the sounds of gunfire and familiar voices. Seemed like Jayne and Zoe had finally gotten around to coming to the rescue, though something in Mal's addled brain made him wish they'd waited just a few minutes longer.
River rolled off him and sat up, already firing; under the relief of being rescued (and, to be honest, the annoyance of needing rescue), Mal felt oddly empty, a feeling he banished by drawing his own gun and rising up.
***
Wasn't till after they'd pinned down Jimmy and gotten the location of the goods, after they'd gotten loaded up and safely out of atmo, and after he'd endured more than a few gibes from Jayne about needing backup that Mal really had the time to reflect on that feeling; not that it was one that took much in the way of examining. She'd been enacting her own plan to save the two of them, that was all, and if the manner she'd chosen to do it in had unleashed something in him, well, that was hardly her fault. Wasn't her fault he looked at her more as a woman than a girl these days; wasn't her fault he'd gotten himself drunk enough to take more advantage of the situation than was proper neither.
No, he thought, heading down into his bunk where at least he could be alone with his smutty, sending-him-to-the-special-hell kind of thoughts, it was all his own fault, and like as not he'd just have to learn to live with it, and apologize to River in the morning.
“Or you could apologize now,” her voice said, nearly making him miss the last rung in the ladder. “Though I don't see what for.”
She smiled at him when he turned around, pulling her dress over her head and dropping it to lay in a bright heap on the floor. “Unless it's for being slow to finish what you started.”
Just this once, Mal thought, swinging the door shut, he was awful glad things hadn't gone smooth after all.
Rating: PG-13
Words: 2768
Pairing: Mal/River
Summary: As usual, the job doesn't go smooth, but maybe sometimes that ain't such a bad thing.
Notes: Written for jessicaqueen at fandom_stocking; takes place sometime post-Serenity.
The Shape of the Boundary
Wasn't like Mal had started out the day planning to end up with River sitting in his lap, his hands hot between her legs, hers tugging at his hair, with the way her mouth moved against his giving every evidence of her being awfully pleased with the situation.
Way he saw it, if anybody'd asked him that morning, he'd have said it sounded like a one-way ticket to Shepherd's special hell.
Course, he reflected, as River shifted in his lap, rubbing up against places she rightly shouldn't even know about, that morning had been a mighty long time ago.
***
Looking back, it had all started going to hell about the time he let himself think that just this once, a job looked to be going smooth.
Sure, the folks who'd been at the address Badger'd given him were none too savory looking, and the alcohol they'd insisted on sharing with him tasted more like it'd been intended as some kind of industrial solvent - and maybe the look the one called Jimmy the Snake had given his politely-termed 'associates' when Mal asked to see the goods made him wish he'd brought along Zoe or Jayne in addition to River - but on the whole, things weren't going too badly; leastways, nobody'd started shooting or pulled or a knife or otherwise spilled blood, which Mal was attributing mostly to the fact that he'd made River wait for him outside.
Of course, that was the moment she chose to make her entrance, pushing open the heavy door like it were made of paper and coming right on in, moving in that smooth, graceful way she had, all unhurried. Like a cat through a pack of growling dogs, Mal thought, noticing the way every man in the room took notice of her right off, their eyes on her as she walked up to stand at his side.
“And who've we got here, then?” Jimmy wasn't leering, at least, but he was grinning in a way that made Mal want to step in front of her, an impulse she must have sensed, the way she grabbed his hand, squeezing it harder than he'd have thought her capable of, bringing to mind the reason she was the only one with him was Jimmy's insistence that they make the deal alone, no crew.
(“Now, old Jimmy, he don't like it when you go in with a big group, see? Makes him think you don't trust him,” Badger had said, grinning from under the brim of his ridiculous hat.
“Funny, seeing as how I absolutely don't trust him.”
Badger'd laughed, sitting there all smug in his office, knowing full well Mal couldn't afford not to take the job. “Yeah, but you don't want him knowing it, right?”)
River's eyes slid towards him on a second's hesitation, like she'd listened to the conversation replaying in his head, and knowing she knew she couldn't just be part of his crew, he wondered what role she'd choose - his sister, his niece, please god not his daughter, he's not that old yet-
And then she went and picked the one he'd never even thought of.
“I'm his wife.”
Smiling, she looked up at him, her pretty little face wearing an expression only the hardest of men could've hoped to resist. “I got bored, waiting for you. I hope you don't mind.”
Mind? Did he mind that she'd just waltzed on in here, putting them both in danger and potentially throwing a wrench straight into the job? Or did he mind that she'd gone and set herself up as his wife, of all gorram things, like she'd been picking up on some of his less-than-pure thoughts lately regarding her, or maybe just the way his eyes got of lingering where they shouldn't.
He minded all of the above, actually, but now wasn't exactly the time to be getting into it. “Course not, sweetheart,” he said, trying to tamp down his irritation and think of what the gui he was supposed to do now. “Think I'm just about done here, anyhow.”
Somehow Mal had managed to get through that moment with what must've been a fairly blank face, cause after all, he was still alive and whole, and Jimmy was talking like maybe he didn't suspect anything.
“We're not done, not exactly,” Jimmy said, turning to his men. “Why don't you boys take the little missus, get her a drink?” Once they'd moved off (River giving Mal a look that, far as he was concerned, could have meant anything from don't do anything stupid to this party is terrible), Jimmy flashed a grin at him, showing way too many teeth to mean anything pleasant. “Your cargo's a little delayed,” he said with a shrug. “Shouldn't be too much of a wait. We'll keep you entertained, no worries.”
Just how stupid do you think I am probably not being the best thing to say under the circumstances, Mal let his eyes wander as he tried to come up with a response that wouldn't get him killed, and a plan to get the hell out of there that would do the same. Not that he got too far down that road; all his thoughts kinda came to a halt when he noticed the way River was hemmed in, the men on either side of her too close for his taste, though she didn't give any indication of being displeased by it.
“Awfully pretty girl, your wife,” Jimmy said, his voice and expression bland. “Awful pretty indeed.”
Mal didn't even bother to respond, not paying any mind to anything but the possessive burn in his blood as he crossed the room. He tried telling himself it was just his sense of protectiveness kicking in, same as it would for any of his crew, tried to ignore the itch in his fingers that made him want to punch both men, first the one who was looking down River's dress and then the other, who was openly smirking at Mal's irritation. Coming up behind her and laying his hand none too gently on River's shoulder, he felt her muscles tense under his fingers. “You alright, darlin'?”
She blinked up at him, her eyebrows coming together. “They were being nice. They gave me a drink,” she said, holding up a half-empty glass as proof.
“Very kind of them, I'm sure.” Mal's glare sent the two men backing away, and his grip on River tightened, his fingers feeling hot, curling at the base of her throat as he guided her further back, to a corner where being overheard was a more distant possibility.
“Tell me what's going on and make it quick,” he said, trying to ignore the way she leaned into him like it was natural, like she spent every day with her arms wrapped around him.
“The snake wants to bite the badger,” she said, her eyes darting towards Jimmy for a second. “Double-cross, take the goods for himself, remove the obstacles.”
So, Jimmy didn't have good things planned for them, which was much as Mal'd already figured; at least that explained why River felt the need to come in and give him some kind of warning. “What in the tian xiao de are they waiting for, then?”
River tipped her head to the side for a moment, her eyes narrowing. “A better offer. Once their buyer is confirmed, we'll be extraneous.”
“Yeah, well,” Mal muttered, shifting his grip to her elbow and heading for the door, “we ain't gonna wait around for that to happen.”
Things never did work out that simple though, and this time was no exception - Jimmy intercepted them long before they got to the door, a full bottle in hand. “You folks can't be headed off now,” he said, stepping in front of them. “Stay for another drink.” Mal hesitated, but the fact that there were half a dozen men now standing idly between them and the door was something of a deterrent, to say nothing of River's restraining hand on his arm. Seemed like a safe enough bet to him that if River didn't want a fight just now, he didn't either.
Jimmy grinned, teeth flashing in the low light. “You got plenty of time. Nobody's going anywhere.”
***
Some time later - he wasn't sure how many minutes had passed, having been measuring his time in bitter gulps of what Jimmy referred to as moonshine - Mal found himself sprawled in a chair, watching River as she sat across from him, straight backed and upright like she'd never even touched the stuff. Truthfully, he wished he hadn't drank so much himself, but between the part of himself that was planning a way out of this mess (that part had decided on a 'wait and see' strategy) and the part that was fixated on getting his hands on River's skin again (that part was still working on things), there wasn't much left over for proper judgment.
As he watched, River's eyes darted to the side, towards where Jimmy and his men were talking in low voices; then, almost before he knew what was happening, she'd downed the rest of her drink in one swallow, and got up, leaning over him.
“What in hell are you doing?” he hissed as she slid into his lap, her knees coming to rest on either side of his hips.
“Getting close enough to talk without being overheard,” she said, her little mouth up close to his ear as she settled herself against his chest, for all the world like she was about to take a nap with him as her bed.
Drinking even more of Jimmy's truly dubious moonshine was probably not the most brilliant idea Mal ever had, but he needed something to distract him from the weight and heat of her in his lap, from the way her hair smelled like honey when he pushed it back to whisper to her, ask the question he was just tipsy enough to let out.
“Why'd you have to go and say you were my wife?”
She frowned a bit, her fingers playing idly in his hair. “Why not? It makes you look good, and me safe. I didn't think you'd mind.”
“Ain't that I mind exactly, darlin', just that-”
“You were angry before,” she said, cutting him off, her fingers dipping down to toy with the buttons on his shirt.
“Yeah, but wasn't you I was angry at.” At this point, Mal wasn't sure who he was more angry at - the ta ma de hun dan in the room, for the way they thought they could look at her, or himself, for the way he'd reacted to it, giving into feelings he hadn't even known were there and acting like she was some delicate flower who couldn't take of herself in the bargain. Now, between the drink fogging up his brain and River sending his senses spinning, he didn't figure he had a whole lot of hope of making sense of anything.
Weren't like he had long to think on it either, the way her lips were suddenly against his, warm and urgent and doing a fine job of kissing for a girl who, far as he knew, didn't have much practice at it.
“They're suspicious. Petty-minded,” she explained, murmuring the words against his lips as she pulled away. “They need convincing.”
“What, don't they believe I'm pretty 'nough for you?” Mal knew he sounded a good bit too petulant for a man who oughta be above all that by rights of age and experience, but truth was, she had him more rattled than he cared to admit.
“Put your hands under my skirt.”
It was a lucky thing he'd only had his glass raised, not actually having gotten to the point of drinking, or he'd probably have choked at her words. As it was he just looked at her over the edge of the glass, knowing he was drunk enough to be sliding towards cynical and angry with her, with this whole mess. And he was just sober enough to wonder somewhat suicidally exactly how far she'd go to keep their cover, almost past the point of feeling the burn down his throat as he knocked back the rest of his drink.
Threading his fingers through the back of her hair, he pulled her close to him, his lips right up against her ear, hearing her breath catch as he flicked his other hand under the edge of her skirt.
“How far you plannin' on taking this, sweetheart? Cause I ain't never been too fond of an audience, but if that's what you had in mind...”
She turned her head to look him in the eye, her gaze steady as a rock even while her lips parted, her breath coming fast. “No,” she said, “though I think you'd be up to the task.” A sharp roll of her hips made her point for her, Mal biting back a groan as she came up against the all-too-obvious evidence of his arousal.
“It's where I keep my gun,” she explained, and it took him a minute, all things considered, to get his mind back to where she meant it to be, to move his fingers far enough up along her thigh to encounter the holster strapped there.
Untangling his left hand from her hair, he slid it under her skirt as well, his fingers running up the divide between fabric and flesh, acutely aware of the heat of her, just beyond his reach.
He wanted to stretch out his fingers just a little further, wanted it as much he could recall wanting anything in a good long while, and something in the way she looked at him, the way she kissed him again, hard and fierce, told him she wanted it too.
“Not the time,” she hissed, pulling her mouth away from his even as she ran her hands through his hair, keeping him close.
Might not have been exactly what he'd longed to do with them, but Mal's fingers were deft enough at the task at hand, her gun free and sitting in his lap within seconds, hidden by her skirt. Still, one of his hands stayed on her skin, his fingers tracing the fold of her hip, and he felt her shudder, watched her close her eyes for a brief second before she rested her forehead against his.
“Brace yourself,” she whispered.
When she threw all of her weight forward against him, sending their chair crashing over backwards, the sound of it got lost in the door bursting open, in the sounds of gunfire and familiar voices. Seemed like Jayne and Zoe had finally gotten around to coming to the rescue, though something in Mal's addled brain made him wish they'd waited just a few minutes longer.
River rolled off him and sat up, already firing; under the relief of being rescued (and, to be honest, the annoyance of needing rescue), Mal felt oddly empty, a feeling he banished by drawing his own gun and rising up.
***
Wasn't till after they'd pinned down Jimmy and gotten the location of the goods, after they'd gotten loaded up and safely out of atmo, and after he'd endured more than a few gibes from Jayne about needing backup that Mal really had the time to reflect on that feeling; not that it was one that took much in the way of examining. She'd been enacting her own plan to save the two of them, that was all, and if the manner she'd chosen to do it in had unleashed something in him, well, that was hardly her fault. Wasn't her fault he looked at her more as a woman than a girl these days; wasn't her fault he'd gotten himself drunk enough to take more advantage of the situation than was proper neither.
No, he thought, heading down into his bunk where at least he could be alone with his smutty, sending-him-to-the-special-hell kind of thoughts, it was all his own fault, and like as not he'd just have to learn to live with it, and apologize to River in the morning.
“Or you could apologize now,” her voice said, nearly making him miss the last rung in the ladder. “Though I don't see what for.”
She smiled at him when he turned around, pulling her dress over her head and dropping it to lay in a bright heap on the floor. “Unless it's for being slow to finish what you started.”
Just this once, Mal thought, swinging the door shut, he was awful glad things hadn't gone smooth after all.