icedark_elf (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
icedark_elf) wrote2007-05-04 03:53 am
icedark_elf) wrote2007-05-04 03:53 am
Entry tags:
Fic: Fresh Wine (FireFly, Mal/Inara, PG-13)
Well, the latest round of ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
het_challenge is over and done with. Gods, that was an insane one. Fifteen different stories, over 15,000 words. My name this time around was Death God, as I had just got done doing major Death Note and Bleach manga readings, so it seemed appropriate.
Edit: I added them up. 21,681 words, 15 fics. Most of which were written in April, but not all. *nods* A few were written in March. Plus all the other things I wrote these last two months. Insane? But of course. It's why most of you hang out here.
Yes, yes, I'm sure some of you are now in shock. I, the slash girl, wrote het. Boy/Girl. Well, some of it was Boy/Girl/Boy. And Boy/Girl/Boy/Girl, but you get the point. So, now that the big reveal happened, now's the time to share. So, here we go. First up in our challenge is the following.
Title: Fresh Wine
Fandom: Firefly
Pairing: Mal/Inara
Author/artist: Death God aka![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
icedark_elf
Recipient: Follie Bergere akawinsorblue
Wordcount: 1,106
Beta:forgottenlover
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None.
Prompt: Firefly, Mal/Inara. Prompt: post-Shindig. "When I say 'whore', I mean it in the best possible way."
Fresh Wine
As they sat upon the catwalk, Mal poured Inara another glass of the wine.
“Remind me to pick up some more things for Kaylee’s fermentation system,” Mal said as he eyed the bottle. “We’re starting to get a might low on our “fresh” wine.”
Smiling as she sipped at the drink, Inara made an amused sound. “I’ll do that. Maybe we might even be able to pick up something for the table. Fresh fruit would be a nice change, and not just in a wine form.” She looked out over the cargo, already growing used to the smell of the livestock. She was pleased that most of her clothing would not be exposed to it, as she was sure that it would cling to the fabric. Still, the smell of something living was a nice thing to smell. Though she had the feeling that Mal might not like what Serenity’s floor would look like afterwards.
“I fear what cleanup is going to be like,” Mal said, his words echoing her thoughts, and she looked at him from the corner of her eye. Sometimes they went along the same lines of thought in ways that were scary at times. It was nice, though. “Wonder if I’ll be able to get away with makin Jayne do the cleanup.” He grinned at her. “I got stabbed, you know.” His hand drifted to the edge of his shirt again, and she finally reached over and swatted at it.
“I know you got stabbed,” she said, imitating the inflections of his words. “I was there when it happened. Foolish man, doing things of that nature.”
“I thought I did a damn fine job of defending your honor.” He caught her hand for a moment, and the pair paused, eyes meeting as they focused on each other. A few long moments passed and neither turned away, or pulled back. Then there was a particularly loud call from one of the cattle, and Inara pulled back, fingers curling. His hand had been so warm, and she hadn’t realized it until she had pulled back, leaving her fingers cold.
“Course, you know why we were at that party?” Mal said finally, after finishing off the bottle into both of their glasses.
“To find your way to new and...interesting smelling forms of crime?” she said, slipping into a tease tone, looking over the cargo again. “Did you know what you were collecting when you decided to see it out?”
“Not one bit. And that ain’t the reason we were there, neither.” He lifted his glass, as if in a toast. “We were there because we were respectable.”
She couldn’t help but snort at that. “You? Respectable? Who would have thought that?”
He sat up, wincing only a little bit as it pulled at the bandages on his side. “I’ll have you know that there are plenty of folk who think that I’m highly respectable. All sorts of folk.”
The look she gave him could not have been more amused. “All right, Mal. I’ll believe you.”
“Though I brought Kaylee to bring me a mite bit more respectability. Can’t ever have too much of that at those fancy, high-society shindigs.” He slumped again. “Not that I ever want to go to one again. This one got me stabbed. I find I don’t much like being stabbed.”
“I find I do not like it, either.” She paused, setting her teeth on the inside of her cheek. She hadn’t meant to say that.
“You know....” Mal started, then paused, frowning slightly as he focused on his glass. “When I say ‘whore,’ I mean in the best possible way.”
And like that, the friendly feel that had been going on between the two of them cooled. Inara looked out into empty space, feeling a strange burst of hurt. Not sure why she felt like that, Inara forced her fingers to relax on the cup she held. “What way would that be?” she asked.
She could just see him flailing a bit. Not obvious, but to anyone who actually knew Mal, it was clear as day. “It’s a job.”
A slim brow lifted. What kind of explanation was that?
He paused, obviously going over his words, and she did hope he chose them wisely. She liked Mal, respected him when he wasn’t in one of his pig-headed moods, and did enjoy being on the Serenity, even when she and her captain were spatting. Which they seemed to do far too often.
“When I said whore, it was because that’s your job. I don’t think it’s a good one. I don’t right approve of some of what you do, but that’s never been a secret. However, you aren’t a whore. Not like some. Some people aren’t just whores for a job. They are them. It...there is a difference. You aren’t a whore, not you. Maybe your job, but you as a person are no whore.”
He raised the cup to his lips, speaking into it as he did. “Why I don’t like you doing what you do.”
That...put an entirely new spin on things, and Inara couldn’t help but stare at Mal in shock. She knew how against slavery he was. How much he disliked those who made their money on it. She also saw how he disliked what had just happened. He compared it to slavery, becoming Atherton’s personal Companion. Given the way Atherton had acted, she could see where he might have gotten the idea of that, but it was still something shocking to hear him speak that way.
That he worried she might change in some way, that she might become different due to her job....
She wondered how why he cared so much. If he cared for her, and wanted to stay friends with her the same way she wished they would stay friends. Even if they were bitting, sarcastic friends. Still, she cared for him. Possibly in ways that she shouldn’t.
“So, no more parties for you?” she asked, shifting the mood back into something more light hearted. She didn’t know what Mal was thinking, but this was skirting on dangerous ground for her.
“Nah. Your parties are too hard on a guy. I much prefer my type, where you can expect things to go like they are supposed to.”
“What? Pool cues and fisticuffs?”
“Yeah.” He lifted his glass to her. “Pool cues, fisticuffs, and maybe a chair or two. Things I can handle. Swords are too awkward. No good in a bar fight.”
“No,” she smiled at him, lifting her glass to touch his. “I suppose they wouldn’t be.”
het_challenge is over and done with. Gods, that was an insane one. Fifteen different stories, over 15,000 words. My name this time around was Death God, as I had just got done doing major Death Note and Bleach manga readings, so it seemed appropriate. Edit: I added them up. 21,681 words, 15 fics. Most of which were written in April, but not all. *nods* A few were written in March. Plus all the other things I wrote these last two months. Insane? But of course. It's why most of you hang out here.
Yes, yes, I'm sure some of you are now in shock. I, the slash girl, wrote het. Boy/Girl. Well, some of it was Boy/Girl/Boy. And Boy/Girl/Boy/Girl, but you get the point. So, now that the big reveal happened, now's the time to share. So, here we go. First up in our challenge is the following.
Title: Fresh Wine
Fandom: Firefly
Pairing: Mal/Inara
Author/artist: Death God aka
icedark_elfRecipient: Follie Bergere aka
winsorblueWordcount: 1,106
Beta:
forgottenloverRating: PG-13
Warnings: None.
Prompt: Firefly, Mal/Inara. Prompt: post-Shindig. "When I say 'whore', I mean it in the best possible way."
Fresh Wine
As they sat upon the catwalk, Mal poured Inara another glass of the wine.
“Remind me to pick up some more things for Kaylee’s fermentation system,” Mal said as he eyed the bottle. “We’re starting to get a might low on our “fresh” wine.”
Smiling as she sipped at the drink, Inara made an amused sound. “I’ll do that. Maybe we might even be able to pick up something for the table. Fresh fruit would be a nice change, and not just in a wine form.” She looked out over the cargo, already growing used to the smell of the livestock. She was pleased that most of her clothing would not be exposed to it, as she was sure that it would cling to the fabric. Still, the smell of something living was a nice thing to smell. Though she had the feeling that Mal might not like what Serenity’s floor would look like afterwards.
“I fear what cleanup is going to be like,” Mal said, his words echoing her thoughts, and she looked at him from the corner of her eye. Sometimes they went along the same lines of thought in ways that were scary at times. It was nice, though. “Wonder if I’ll be able to get away with makin Jayne do the cleanup.” He grinned at her. “I got stabbed, you know.” His hand drifted to the edge of his shirt again, and she finally reached over and swatted at it.
“I know you got stabbed,” she said, imitating the inflections of his words. “I was there when it happened. Foolish man, doing things of that nature.”
“I thought I did a damn fine job of defending your honor.” He caught her hand for a moment, and the pair paused, eyes meeting as they focused on each other. A few long moments passed and neither turned away, or pulled back. Then there was a particularly loud call from one of the cattle, and Inara pulled back, fingers curling. His hand had been so warm, and she hadn’t realized it until she had pulled back, leaving her fingers cold.
“Course, you know why we were at that party?” Mal said finally, after finishing off the bottle into both of their glasses.
“To find your way to new and...interesting smelling forms of crime?” she said, slipping into a tease tone, looking over the cargo again. “Did you know what you were collecting when you decided to see it out?”
“Not one bit. And that ain’t the reason we were there, neither.” He lifted his glass, as if in a toast. “We were there because we were respectable.”
She couldn’t help but snort at that. “You? Respectable? Who would have thought that?”
He sat up, wincing only a little bit as it pulled at the bandages on his side. “I’ll have you know that there are plenty of folk who think that I’m highly respectable. All sorts of folk.”
The look she gave him could not have been more amused. “All right, Mal. I’ll believe you.”
“Though I brought Kaylee to bring me a mite bit more respectability. Can’t ever have too much of that at those fancy, high-society shindigs.” He slumped again. “Not that I ever want to go to one again. This one got me stabbed. I find I don’t much like being stabbed.”
“I find I do not like it, either.” She paused, setting her teeth on the inside of her cheek. She hadn’t meant to say that.
“You know....” Mal started, then paused, frowning slightly as he focused on his glass. “When I say ‘whore,’ I mean in the best possible way.”
And like that, the friendly feel that had been going on between the two of them cooled. Inara looked out into empty space, feeling a strange burst of hurt. Not sure why she felt like that, Inara forced her fingers to relax on the cup she held. “What way would that be?” she asked.
She could just see him flailing a bit. Not obvious, but to anyone who actually knew Mal, it was clear as day. “It’s a job.”
A slim brow lifted. What kind of explanation was that?
He paused, obviously going over his words, and she did hope he chose them wisely. She liked Mal, respected him when he wasn’t in one of his pig-headed moods, and did enjoy being on the Serenity, even when she and her captain were spatting. Which they seemed to do far too often.
“When I said whore, it was because that’s your job. I don’t think it’s a good one. I don’t right approve of some of what you do, but that’s never been a secret. However, you aren’t a whore. Not like some. Some people aren’t just whores for a job. They are them. It...there is a difference. You aren’t a whore, not you. Maybe your job, but you as a person are no whore.”
He raised the cup to his lips, speaking into it as he did. “Why I don’t like you doing what you do.”
That...put an entirely new spin on things, and Inara couldn’t help but stare at Mal in shock. She knew how against slavery he was. How much he disliked those who made their money on it. She also saw how he disliked what had just happened. He compared it to slavery, becoming Atherton’s personal Companion. Given the way Atherton had acted, she could see where he might have gotten the idea of that, but it was still something shocking to hear him speak that way.
That he worried she might change in some way, that she might become different due to her job....
She wondered how why he cared so much. If he cared for her, and wanted to stay friends with her the same way she wished they would stay friends. Even if they were bitting, sarcastic friends. Still, she cared for him. Possibly in ways that she shouldn’t.
“So, no more parties for you?” she asked, shifting the mood back into something more light hearted. She didn’t know what Mal was thinking, but this was skirting on dangerous ground for her.
“Nah. Your parties are too hard on a guy. I much prefer my type, where you can expect things to go like they are supposed to.”
“What? Pool cues and fisticuffs?”
“Yeah.” He lifted his glass to her. “Pool cues, fisticuffs, and maybe a chair or two. Things I can handle. Swords are too awkward. No good in a bar fight.”
“No,” she smiled at him, lifting her glass to touch his. “I suppose they wouldn’t be.”
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I'm not a huge fan of Mal/Inara, I think they'd kill each other if they ever got together, but this fic seems like it would fit right nicely in canon.
Mal saying fisticuffs made me giggle, too. He just isn't meant for those kind of hifalutin words and airs. Which is exactly what got him in trouble at the party, come to think of it. Ah well.