Fic: No Power in the 'Verse, Part 14/18 (Firefly, River/Mal, PG-13)
Title: No Power in the 'Verse: XIV. A Confident Liar
Rating: PG-13
Words: ~1300
Pairing: River/Mal, mentions of Kaylee/Simon
Notes: Chapter title and cut text from Conversation 16 by The National
XIV. A Confident Liar
Though this is a mere border planet estate - one of several homes for the Barretts, a family even wealthier than her own had been - the ballroom it houses is elegant to the point of being overdone. Despite her fine dress and smoothed hair, River feels other, feels like a child at parties too dull and big for her again. Only here there is no Simon to hide with in a corner, while she makes pointed comments about the bigger and prettier girls and their flirtatious ways. Here she must fit in and be one of those girls, be the Captain's trophy, bright and shining and warm. She takes charm from Kaylee, elegance from the memory of Inara, and confidence from Zoë, blends them all into a mask, and gratefully hides River behind it.
So she is able to enter the room, hand tucked in the crook of his arm; able to glide through the crowd and nod to others with the proper inclination of her head. Able to feel, and so to appear, beautiful and poised.
They take up a spot across from the orchestra, and even under her mask River sees the pattern of music pouring from them, lets her mind spin out onto the floor, her toes tapping just slightly as she sways gently next to Mal.
She can feel their target weaving his way among the crowd, but for this moment, the music is all. The job can wait.
***
Mal can feel the change in her as they walk into the room, like she's borrowed another personality for the night. The graceful but skittish girl that is River is suddenly absent, leaving him with an elegant woman who, he's noticing all over again, is stunning in her simplicity.
He can feel her moving next to him, sees the dreamy look in her eyes, and guesses right off what she wants.
“Ain't gonna be getting me out on that dance floor, albatross, so you can just stop that toe-tapping of yours,” he leans down to whisper in her ear.
She gives no sign of being displeased, instead smiles sweetly and turns her head to whisper back, “What makes you think I'd want you? You'd hold me back.”
“'Spose I would, darlin',” he says, keeping his voice even, wondering why in hell he feels affronted when she's only saying what he's been wanting her to for weeks now. “Still, need you to focus on the job now, find our man Barrett the younger. Pull out of his head where we need to be going to from here, get this job done.”
“Not necessary to search,” she says. “Already on the hunt for new prey.”
“May not look 'xactly like the albatross I'm used to, but you sure do sound like her,” Mal mutters, wondering what in hell she's on about now.
He doesn't have to ponder on it for long though, as a fine young gentleman Mal doesn't like the look of one bit is approaching them, and River's giving the handsome sha gua a smile all full of sweet charm.
“I don't believe we've been introduced,” he says, speaking to Mal but looking at River. “I'm Alexander Barrett.”
Mal's eyebrows raise involuntarily. “You must be the son of our good host then. Kind of you to take notice of us. Duncan Armin,” he says, offering a handshake that is, strictly speaking, a bit more firm than necessary. “This is my wife, Julia,” he adds reluctantly, somehow managing not to trip over either the false names or the words my wife. At his side, River is serene, her smile faltering not one bit as Barrett kisses her hand, lingering over the job, his thumb stroking her knuckles.
“The pleasure is all mine, I'm sure,” Barrett says, his eyes fixed on River in a way that's making Mal more than happy they'll be robbing this man before the night is out. “I couldn't help but notice, sir, that your wife seems eager to dance. Perhaps you'll allow me...?” He's grasped River's free hand before he's finished his request, and something in Mal that he'd not wanted to be aware of snaps, has him reclaiming River's hand with a swiftness that startles them all.
“Sorry, Mr. Barrett,” he says, “but the lady's my wife, and she's promised her first dance to me.”
Finding he's left himself with no choice, he pulls River out onto the floor with him, grateful for small mercies in that he knows this dance. Luckily, the only toes he might chance to step on will belong to his copilot, who ought to have the foresight to avoid him.
***
River's mind would be filled with dazzling shock, but she is not River, she is the woman in the mask, and so she is only what is politely termed bemused.
“He's very handsome,” she says; a test of the waters, Mal's instant dislike of their mark having been so blatant.
“You think so? Thought he looked a bit girly, myself,” Mal responds, his lips thin.
“He thinks you're a jealous old man, you know. Overprotective of what's yours.” She wrinkles her nose at the thought of being owned by anyone, briefly cracking the mask.
“Let him,” says Mal, staring over her head towards Barrett. “He don't have you, and I -” He cuts himself off, and she must be adroit to avoid his feet.
“And you what?” She is determined not to let him twist away now, not when the hope inside her is greedily reaching out for more.
“I didn't like the way he was looking at you, is all.” Mal's expression is unreadable, still gazing over her head, looking anywhere but at her.
“He was looking at me like a woman,” she says severely, frustration mounting.
“No, darlin', he was looking at you like he wanted you in his bed,” Mal snaps, finally meeting her eyes. “And that wasn't showing respect to either of us.”
She tilts her head to the side, considering, drawing on the qualities of her mask to guide her words. “Does that bother you? That other men should want me? It's not as if you'd have a say in where I give myself.”
Mal's eyes narrow; she knows she has hit. “I'm your Captain.”
“We're not on the ship,” she counters.
“I'm your husband,” he says, voice growing dangerous.
“Not honestly,” she says, letting River process the thrills that accompany his words while the mask dances on, not missing a step.
“For tonight I am. And you damn well better act like it.”
“Giving me orders outside the ship? Poor form,” she says, knowing she is pushing him, yet intoxicated with it, unable to pull back. “And are you certain that's one you'd like followed? You've said just the opposite so often.”
His eyes, and his tone, are now deadly serious. “Giving you orders on a job, woman. And you will focus on that job and not go 'round distracting yourself with other men, am I clear?”
She has pushed far enough; he has given all that he will, and she retreats, her smile bright and frozen in place. “Perfectly clear.”
They dance on in silence until she feels him relax under her hands; feels the anger and jealousy recede before she allows herself to peek out, letting him know she is still there, under the mask. “Am I still allowed to distract myself with you?” The smile she gives him now is hesitant, slightly crooked, belongs to River.
He stares at her for a split second before rolling his eyes. “Gorramit, woman, I am never lettin' you off my boat again, you hear?”
She laughs, and that, too, is purely River.
Part 13 - Master Post - Part 15
Rating: PG-13
Words: ~1300
Pairing: River/Mal, mentions of Kaylee/Simon
Notes: Chapter title and cut text from Conversation 16 by The National
XIV. A Confident Liar
Though this is a mere border planet estate - one of several homes for the Barretts, a family even wealthier than her own had been - the ballroom it houses is elegant to the point of being overdone. Despite her fine dress and smoothed hair, River feels other, feels like a child at parties too dull and big for her again. Only here there is no Simon to hide with in a corner, while she makes pointed comments about the bigger and prettier girls and their flirtatious ways. Here she must fit in and be one of those girls, be the Captain's trophy, bright and shining and warm. She takes charm from Kaylee, elegance from the memory of Inara, and confidence from Zoë, blends them all into a mask, and gratefully hides River behind it.
So she is able to enter the room, hand tucked in the crook of his arm; able to glide through the crowd and nod to others with the proper inclination of her head. Able to feel, and so to appear, beautiful and poised.
They take up a spot across from the orchestra, and even under her mask River sees the pattern of music pouring from them, lets her mind spin out onto the floor, her toes tapping just slightly as she sways gently next to Mal.
She can feel their target weaving his way among the crowd, but for this moment, the music is all. The job can wait.
***
Mal can feel the change in her as they walk into the room, like she's borrowed another personality for the night. The graceful but skittish girl that is River is suddenly absent, leaving him with an elegant woman who, he's noticing all over again, is stunning in her simplicity.
He can feel her moving next to him, sees the dreamy look in her eyes, and guesses right off what she wants.
“Ain't gonna be getting me out on that dance floor, albatross, so you can just stop that toe-tapping of yours,” he leans down to whisper in her ear.
She gives no sign of being displeased, instead smiles sweetly and turns her head to whisper back, “What makes you think I'd want you? You'd hold me back.”
“'Spose I would, darlin',” he says, keeping his voice even, wondering why in hell he feels affronted when she's only saying what he's been wanting her to for weeks now. “Still, need you to focus on the job now, find our man Barrett the younger. Pull out of his head where we need to be going to from here, get this job done.”
“Not necessary to search,” she says. “Already on the hunt for new prey.”
“May not look 'xactly like the albatross I'm used to, but you sure do sound like her,” Mal mutters, wondering what in hell she's on about now.
He doesn't have to ponder on it for long though, as a fine young gentleman Mal doesn't like the look of one bit is approaching them, and River's giving the handsome sha gua a smile all full of sweet charm.
“I don't believe we've been introduced,” he says, speaking to Mal but looking at River. “I'm Alexander Barrett.”
Mal's eyebrows raise involuntarily. “You must be the son of our good host then. Kind of you to take notice of us. Duncan Armin,” he says, offering a handshake that is, strictly speaking, a bit more firm than necessary. “This is my wife, Julia,” he adds reluctantly, somehow managing not to trip over either the false names or the words my wife. At his side, River is serene, her smile faltering not one bit as Barrett kisses her hand, lingering over the job, his thumb stroking her knuckles.
“The pleasure is all mine, I'm sure,” Barrett says, his eyes fixed on River in a way that's making Mal more than happy they'll be robbing this man before the night is out. “I couldn't help but notice, sir, that your wife seems eager to dance. Perhaps you'll allow me...?” He's grasped River's free hand before he's finished his request, and something in Mal that he'd not wanted to be aware of snaps, has him reclaiming River's hand with a swiftness that startles them all.
“Sorry, Mr. Barrett,” he says, “but the lady's my wife, and she's promised her first dance to me.”
Finding he's left himself with no choice, he pulls River out onto the floor with him, grateful for small mercies in that he knows this dance. Luckily, the only toes he might chance to step on will belong to his copilot, who ought to have the foresight to avoid him.
***
River's mind would be filled with dazzling shock, but she is not River, she is the woman in the mask, and so she is only what is politely termed bemused.
“He's very handsome,” she says; a test of the waters, Mal's instant dislike of their mark having been so blatant.
“You think so? Thought he looked a bit girly, myself,” Mal responds, his lips thin.
“He thinks you're a jealous old man, you know. Overprotective of what's yours.” She wrinkles her nose at the thought of being owned by anyone, briefly cracking the mask.
“Let him,” says Mal, staring over her head towards Barrett. “He don't have you, and I -” He cuts himself off, and she must be adroit to avoid his feet.
“And you what?” She is determined not to let him twist away now, not when the hope inside her is greedily reaching out for more.
“I didn't like the way he was looking at you, is all.” Mal's expression is unreadable, still gazing over her head, looking anywhere but at her.
“He was looking at me like a woman,” she says severely, frustration mounting.
“No, darlin', he was looking at you like he wanted you in his bed,” Mal snaps, finally meeting her eyes. “And that wasn't showing respect to either of us.”
She tilts her head to the side, considering, drawing on the qualities of her mask to guide her words. “Does that bother you? That other men should want me? It's not as if you'd have a say in where I give myself.”
Mal's eyes narrow; she knows she has hit. “I'm your Captain.”
“We're not on the ship,” she counters.
“I'm your husband,” he says, voice growing dangerous.
“Not honestly,” she says, letting River process the thrills that accompany his words while the mask dances on, not missing a step.
“For tonight I am. And you damn well better act like it.”
“Giving me orders outside the ship? Poor form,” she says, knowing she is pushing him, yet intoxicated with it, unable to pull back. “And are you certain that's one you'd like followed? You've said just the opposite so often.”
His eyes, and his tone, are now deadly serious. “Giving you orders on a job, woman. And you will focus on that job and not go 'round distracting yourself with other men, am I clear?”
She has pushed far enough; he has given all that he will, and she retreats, her smile bright and frozen in place. “Perfectly clear.”
They dance on in silence until she feels him relax under her hands; feels the anger and jealousy recede before she allows herself to peek out, letting him know she is still there, under the mask. “Am I still allowed to distract myself with you?” The smile she gives him now is hesitant, slightly crooked, belongs to River.
He stares at her for a split second before rolling his eyes. “Gorramit, woman, I am never lettin' you off my boat again, you hear?”
She laughs, and that, too, is purely River.
Part 13 - Master Post - Part 15