Fic: No Power in the 'Verse, Part 16/18 (Firefly, River/Mal, PG-13)
Title: No Power in the 'Verse: XVI. Betray Your Wisdom
Rating: PG-13
Words: ~1600
Pairing: River/Mal, mentions of Kaylee/Simon
Notes: Chapter title and cut text from Biting Your Tail by Iron & Wine
XVI. Betray Your Wisdom
Flying the shuttle back to Serenity, Mal can hardly see the night sky in front of him for the images playing in his mind.
He'd watched from that closet in the darkness, expecting to see River drop Barrett like a stone.
He hadn't expected her to make conversation with the man, to let him put his hands on her. And he sure as hell hadn't expected her to make such a convincing show of enjoying it.
He remembers creeping out of that closet, miffed that she thought he'd need a signal. He remembers picking up the paperweight with a certain amount of grim satisfaction. And then he can't seem to recall anything but the sight of her with another man; her head thrown back, eyes closed, gasping at his touch, shuddering in his arms.
Coming back to the present with a start, he realizes he's managed to dock with Serenity with his mind off in a dark place; a place where he's caught between wishing he'd hit Barrett hard enough to kill him and wishing that he could have been him. That he could just let it be that simple and take what she's offered him so many times.
But out in the black, being better than that is all he has. Keeping his family safe and whole is his entire purpose, and he will hold to that, he tells himself. No matter what the temptation.
It's too damn bad for him then that temptation's got herself planted right in front of the door, not looking like she's got any intention of letting him pass.
***
“You're not leaving,” River says, willing herself into a column of steel. “Not until you listen.”
“You giving the orders on my boat now?” He's glowering at her, would push her aside if that didn't mean touching her.
“Serenity would want you to listen. Wants peace inside her.”
His eyes narrow and he crosses his arms over his chest, but remains still. “Speak your piece then. But make it snappy.”
She closes her eyes, takes courage from hope. “It didn't mean anything. What I did with him. Wasn't real, didn't have substance.”
“That so?” He rocks back on his heels, raising his eyebrows. “Sure looked to be substance there to me. But then, I'm just a fool who's usin' you and don't really have a care for you, wasn't that it?”
“Mal-” For a moment her mind is overcome with flares of exasperation, so that the words come out all scrambled. “No emotion, no reality, painted players on a stage, all dressed up for amusement. Only a gorram idiot can't see them reading out the lines!” She winces, pulling the fragments of disorder into focus one by one. Not quite what she intended to say, but Mal has always been good at speaking her language, even if his clenched fists give away the fact that he doesn't much care to listen this time.
“Well,” he says tightly, “now I got me another insult to add to tonight's growing list. If that's all you got to say, think I'll be heading out now.” He moves towards her, a dark tide of jealousy and confusion and fear traveling with him, washing over her, but she is strong, doesn't bend, doesn't move an inch.
“No,” she says, meeting his eyes, clear now on his reasons for being willfully obtuse. “I shouldn't have to apologize. The fault isn't mine. It bothers you and you don't want it to, so you blame me. It isn't fair.”
He makes no response to this, doesn't even have the grace to look ashamed of himself, and River feels the embers of fury catching again.
“You haven't the right to be bothered. Offered it to you time and time again, and you didn't take it. So, Captain, what gives you the right to care whose hands are on me?”
“Qing-wa cao de liu mang,” Mal curses, turning away and running a hand through his hair as he rants, before turning back just as suddenly. “This does,” he says roughly, and then his mouth is on hers and her world has never been so whole.
***
The bit of her brain always engaged in analysis notes that for a first kiss, it does not lack for passion. But mostly, as fury melts into desire, spiraling down into her core, River feels. Feels her hands on his face, his on the back of her neck and in her hair, their pressure only driving her want for more. Feels his mouth on hers, stirring up a response deep inside her, a hot, sharp ache that she wants to go on forever. Feels love, and does her best to make her mouth say it without words.
***
As his mouth meets hers, he knows instantly it's a mistake. Her lips are soft and yielding against his, sending an electric response all along his body, like he's a teenager out in back of the barn with his first sweetheart again. All at once it's like a wave rushing over him - every brief touch between them, every longing look full of desire she's given him, the way her back is arching now, pressing every inch of her up flush and hard against him.
He knows to the core it's a mistake, because now that he's felt this, he will never stop wanting more of her.
***
It's Mal who breaks the contact first, pulling back just slightly. Resting his forehead against hers, he feels the warmth of her breath against his fingers, still lingering on her cheek. He can't seem to get enough breath back to speak himself, doesn't know what he'd say anyhow, but knows well enough he's willing to give in to the pressure of her fingers on the back of his neck, lower his mouth to hers again-
If only the door hadn't slid open.
“Sir, I got a wave from Lady- Woah...” Zoë does a quick about-face mid-step, shielding her eyes. “You want me to come back when you're finished there, Captain?”
Mal is well and truly lost for words, can only stand there with his mouth open, adding huge potential for embarrassment to his mental list of the negatives of shipboard romances. “Zoë...I...um. We were just - weren't what it looks like. Got a little carried away with...the job,” he manages, feeling like a right proper fool.
Now Zoë's giving him the most skeptical eyebrow known to man. “Uh huh. Makin' sure River hadn't swallowed any of the loot, were you?”
“No!” he says, wondering if he's got some kinda curse on him when it comes to kissing women. “Not like I meant for this to happen - I sure as hell didn't plan to be kissin' River!” Turning to the woman in question, he sees she's got a narrow-eyed expression that promises he'll pay for that later - which he hardly considers as fair, seeing as she ought to be able to read from him perfectly well that if he had the choice he'd be kissing her again-
“If you'll excuse me, Captain,” she says stiffly, sweeping out of the shuttle and down the catwalk in her finery without so much as a backwards glance.
Zoë watches her go, then turns back to Mal, no trace of skepticism or mocking on her face now. “Honestly, sir - what the hell was that?”
Mal crosses his arms, tries his best to look imposing. “What it was, Zoë, was none of your business. Ain't like it's the first time somebody's seen somethin' on this boat wasn't meant for sharing.”
He curses himself for saying it as soon as it's left his mouth, watches her face tighten for a second; they both know who was responsible for most of those accidentally public moments of intimacy. But all she says is, “True enough. But what do you think her brother'll say, he catches you laying hands on her?”
He sighs, as that thought's occurred to him more than once. Doc might not be any kind of a brawler, but he does pack a punch when it comes to River. “Don't know that I see it matters, her and I both being adults with our own minds to make up,” he says, starting the long walk up to the bridge. “All the same, I'd appreciate you keeping this to yourself.”
“Of course, sir,” Zoë responds, and if she's offended he even thought to ask, it doesn't show in her tone. Never does. “But Mal-” she stops him with a hand on his arm. “You sure you know what you're doing with her? I won't deny she's been more stable lately, but...” she pauses, and Mal guesses she's as reluctant as he is to speak of the days before Miranda. To remember River not as a capable pilot and whole, if somewhat eccentric, person, but instead as an occasionally violent girl in the grip of an unpredictable psychosis.
He pauses, knowing if he owes the truth to anyone, it's the first mate who's stood by him through everything the 'verse could throw at them. “Truthfully, Zoë, I got no idea where I am with this. I'm wanderin' in the black.” But even as he says it, he's thinking on the beauty of River, the way she's managed to dance her way under his skin these last months without him hardly knowing it. “But I mean to find out.”
There's a long silence before she nods, takes her hand off his arm. “Alright then.”
He smiles at her - just a bit, just enough - before turning back for the bridge, saying, “Now, this wave - Lady Shen getting antsy already?” And he's finding, as he walks, that his step's lighter than it's been in months.
Part 15 - Master Post - Part 17
Rating: PG-13
Words: ~1600
Pairing: River/Mal, mentions of Kaylee/Simon
Notes: Chapter title and cut text from Biting Your Tail by Iron & Wine
XVI. Betray Your Wisdom
Flying the shuttle back to Serenity, Mal can hardly see the night sky in front of him for the images playing in his mind.
He'd watched from that closet in the darkness, expecting to see River drop Barrett like a stone.
He hadn't expected her to make conversation with the man, to let him put his hands on her. And he sure as hell hadn't expected her to make such a convincing show of enjoying it.
He remembers creeping out of that closet, miffed that she thought he'd need a signal. He remembers picking up the paperweight with a certain amount of grim satisfaction. And then he can't seem to recall anything but the sight of her with another man; her head thrown back, eyes closed, gasping at his touch, shuddering in his arms.
Coming back to the present with a start, he realizes he's managed to dock with Serenity with his mind off in a dark place; a place where he's caught between wishing he'd hit Barrett hard enough to kill him and wishing that he could have been him. That he could just let it be that simple and take what she's offered him so many times.
But out in the black, being better than that is all he has. Keeping his family safe and whole is his entire purpose, and he will hold to that, he tells himself. No matter what the temptation.
It's too damn bad for him then that temptation's got herself planted right in front of the door, not looking like she's got any intention of letting him pass.
***
“You're not leaving,” River says, willing herself into a column of steel. “Not until you listen.”
“You giving the orders on my boat now?” He's glowering at her, would push her aside if that didn't mean touching her.
“Serenity would want you to listen. Wants peace inside her.”
His eyes narrow and he crosses his arms over his chest, but remains still. “Speak your piece then. But make it snappy.”
She closes her eyes, takes courage from hope. “It didn't mean anything. What I did with him. Wasn't real, didn't have substance.”
“That so?” He rocks back on his heels, raising his eyebrows. “Sure looked to be substance there to me. But then, I'm just a fool who's usin' you and don't really have a care for you, wasn't that it?”
“Mal-” For a moment her mind is overcome with flares of exasperation, so that the words come out all scrambled. “No emotion, no reality, painted players on a stage, all dressed up for amusement. Only a gorram idiot can't see them reading out the lines!” She winces, pulling the fragments of disorder into focus one by one. Not quite what she intended to say, but Mal has always been good at speaking her language, even if his clenched fists give away the fact that he doesn't much care to listen this time.
“Well,” he says tightly, “now I got me another insult to add to tonight's growing list. If that's all you got to say, think I'll be heading out now.” He moves towards her, a dark tide of jealousy and confusion and fear traveling with him, washing over her, but she is strong, doesn't bend, doesn't move an inch.
“No,” she says, meeting his eyes, clear now on his reasons for being willfully obtuse. “I shouldn't have to apologize. The fault isn't mine. It bothers you and you don't want it to, so you blame me. It isn't fair.”
He makes no response to this, doesn't even have the grace to look ashamed of himself, and River feels the embers of fury catching again.
“You haven't the right to be bothered. Offered it to you time and time again, and you didn't take it. So, Captain, what gives you the right to care whose hands are on me?”
“Qing-wa cao de liu mang,” Mal curses, turning away and running a hand through his hair as he rants, before turning back just as suddenly. “This does,” he says roughly, and then his mouth is on hers and her world has never been so whole.
***
The bit of her brain always engaged in analysis notes that for a first kiss, it does not lack for passion. But mostly, as fury melts into desire, spiraling down into her core, River feels. Feels her hands on his face, his on the back of her neck and in her hair, their pressure only driving her want for more. Feels his mouth on hers, stirring up a response deep inside her, a hot, sharp ache that she wants to go on forever. Feels love, and does her best to make her mouth say it without words.
***
As his mouth meets hers, he knows instantly it's a mistake. Her lips are soft and yielding against his, sending an electric response all along his body, like he's a teenager out in back of the barn with his first sweetheart again. All at once it's like a wave rushing over him - every brief touch between them, every longing look full of desire she's given him, the way her back is arching now, pressing every inch of her up flush and hard against him.
He knows to the core it's a mistake, because now that he's felt this, he will never stop wanting more of her.
***
It's Mal who breaks the contact first, pulling back just slightly. Resting his forehead against hers, he feels the warmth of her breath against his fingers, still lingering on her cheek. He can't seem to get enough breath back to speak himself, doesn't know what he'd say anyhow, but knows well enough he's willing to give in to the pressure of her fingers on the back of his neck, lower his mouth to hers again-
If only the door hadn't slid open.
“Sir, I got a wave from Lady- Woah...” Zoë does a quick about-face mid-step, shielding her eyes. “You want me to come back when you're finished there, Captain?”
Mal is well and truly lost for words, can only stand there with his mouth open, adding huge potential for embarrassment to his mental list of the negatives of shipboard romances. “Zoë...I...um. We were just - weren't what it looks like. Got a little carried away with...the job,” he manages, feeling like a right proper fool.
Now Zoë's giving him the most skeptical eyebrow known to man. “Uh huh. Makin' sure River hadn't swallowed any of the loot, were you?”
“No!” he says, wondering if he's got some kinda curse on him when it comes to kissing women. “Not like I meant for this to happen - I sure as hell didn't plan to be kissin' River!” Turning to the woman in question, he sees she's got a narrow-eyed expression that promises he'll pay for that later - which he hardly considers as fair, seeing as she ought to be able to read from him perfectly well that if he had the choice he'd be kissing her again-
“If you'll excuse me, Captain,” she says stiffly, sweeping out of the shuttle and down the catwalk in her finery without so much as a backwards glance.
Zoë watches her go, then turns back to Mal, no trace of skepticism or mocking on her face now. “Honestly, sir - what the hell was that?”
Mal crosses his arms, tries his best to look imposing. “What it was, Zoë, was none of your business. Ain't like it's the first time somebody's seen somethin' on this boat wasn't meant for sharing.”
He curses himself for saying it as soon as it's left his mouth, watches her face tighten for a second; they both know who was responsible for most of those accidentally public moments of intimacy. But all she says is, “True enough. But what do you think her brother'll say, he catches you laying hands on her?”
He sighs, as that thought's occurred to him more than once. Doc might not be any kind of a brawler, but he does pack a punch when it comes to River. “Don't know that I see it matters, her and I both being adults with our own minds to make up,” he says, starting the long walk up to the bridge. “All the same, I'd appreciate you keeping this to yourself.”
“Of course, sir,” Zoë responds, and if she's offended he even thought to ask, it doesn't show in her tone. Never does. “But Mal-” she stops him with a hand on his arm. “You sure you know what you're doing with her? I won't deny she's been more stable lately, but...” she pauses, and Mal guesses she's as reluctant as he is to speak of the days before Miranda. To remember River not as a capable pilot and whole, if somewhat eccentric, person, but instead as an occasionally violent girl in the grip of an unpredictable psychosis.
He pauses, knowing if he owes the truth to anyone, it's the first mate who's stood by him through everything the 'verse could throw at them. “Truthfully, Zoë, I got no idea where I am with this. I'm wanderin' in the black.” But even as he says it, he's thinking on the beauty of River, the way she's managed to dance her way under his skin these last months without him hardly knowing it. “But I mean to find out.”
There's a long silence before she nods, takes her hand off his arm. “Alright then.”
He smiles at her - just a bit, just enough - before turning back for the bridge, saying, “Now, this wave - Lady Shen getting antsy already?” And he's finding, as he walks, that his step's lighter than it's been in months.
Part 15 - Master Post - Part 17