Firefly drabbles!
Nov. 17th, 2007 09:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elvenpirateladyAs you all know, I am owned by Silmarillion muses, LOTR muses, and increasingly, Firefly muses. I'm not really one for OTPs or anything - well, I ship things, but there isn't any one that jumps out at me. But I love Simon and Kaylee, and they are just adorable together. Here are several drabbles about them.
-------------------------------
And now the entire crew is ganging up on me to write a multi-chapter fic. *hides*
Title: The Life of a Scarf
Pairing: Simon/Kaylee
Summary: I like the ship, and I like scarves. What else is there to say?
-----------------
Pairing: Simon/Kaylee
Summary: I like the ship, and I like scarves. What else is there to say?
-----------------
Kaylee sees it first, at a stall on one of the wealthier rim planets, where several scarves twist and dance like pennants in a breeze. He watches as she runs the material through her fingers, lingering on one coloured in bright splashes of blue, pink and yellow. She moves on reluctantly, and he has his chance to not make a complete idiot of himself in the game of love and relationships.
He presents it to her that evening in the engine room, and the colours become dim compared to her smile. Hands join, mouth meets mouth, and from then on he always associates that silky texture with kissing.
Later, as Kaylee sleeps and he cleans his instruments, he realises what the tourniquet was. The scarf is stiff, the colours lost to the rusty hue of dried blood. He washes it carefully, but the brown stains never fully fade away.
--------------
On Mr Universe’s planet, the rain falls gently on the distant plains as they watch the rocket fly. He half-wishes that it would rain on them instead and hide the tears pouring down her face, but the rest of the crew is lost in thought and no-one comments.
When she’s still crying three days later, though, he decides that it’s time for action. He finds her sitting under one of the engines, water falling in fat drops all around them. He sits down beside her and their arms press together, sharing a little warmth in the wet. He reaches out and uses the scarf to dry her eyes. ‘Don’t cry forever,’ he says gently.
‘I won’t,’ she promises.
They watch the sun set, and share the quiet together for a long time.
---------------
She takes great pleasure in storming out of the kitchen and slamming the door. Outside, it’s very quiet, at least compared to Simon. She’d never seen him as the loud argument type, but damn, the man can yell when he wants to. She wants to hit something badly, and settles for fiddling with the fraying edge of the scarf.
No-one is there to see her stomp down the stairs, which seems like a waste, but no-one is there to see her trip and fall halfway down either. She picks herself up with minimal fuss – scrapes and bruises come with being a mechanic – but the scarf is another story. It must have caught on a sharp corner, because there is a long tear running through the middle. She can fix machines just fine, but a job like this is beyond her. Instead, she takes it to Inara, and watches anxiously as the Companion carefully sews the edges together.
A few days later, when the awkward silences have become too much effort and they’ve started talking to each other again, Simon notices the line of stitches. ‘I didn’t realise this was torn.’
You don’t realise a lot of things is what she doesn’t say, because they’ll only start fighting again, and ‘Nara will get mighty tired of sewing. ‘It’s fixed now.’
‘Are we?’
Yes, they are, because couples forgive each other, and she can’t really remember what they were fighting about anyway. She’s forgiven him, and the scarf proves it. She wouldn’t have bothered to mend it otherwise.
‘I didn’t realise we were torn,’ she says, and has the pleasure of watching him look surprised, then confused, then immensely relieved.
-----------------
She didn’t mean to turn the scarf into a rag, honestly, but when the engines are shuddering and there’s oil leaking across the floor and Serenity is like to fall out of the sky, there’s no time for thinking. It’s all the captain’s fault, anyway. He told them to find a room, and they did. It just happened to be the engine room, and the scarf got left behind when she was trying to find her clothes.
Simon has thankfully learned enough tact to keep quiet while she turns the oily material over in her hands. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘I tried washing it, but engine grease never comes out.’ The square of thin material has survived blood, sweat, tears, and several memorable occasions as a blindfold, but not this.
‘Well, it lasted two years. That’s old, for a scarf, and now it gets to live in the engine room with you, which makes me mighty jealous.’ She can’t help but smile as the thought of him being jealous of a scarf sinks in. ‘’Sides, we can always find another one.’
That makes her excited. ‘Really?’
‘Definitely.’
‘Same colours as before?’
‘Whatever colours you want.’
‘Maybe green, this time,’ she says thoughtfully, ‘or purple.’
‘With stripes.’
‘Or flowers.’
‘Or little spaceships.’
They look at each other and laugh, happy that this is not the end, and go back to cleaning the engine room, both thinking of the future full of scarves that awaits them.
He presents it to her that evening in the engine room, and the colours become dim compared to her smile. Hands join, mouth meets mouth, and from then on he always associates that silky texture with kissing.
---------------
The captain brings her in amid a hail of gunfire. Her eyes are closed and the left leg of her trousers is wet with blood, but someone had the sense to put a tourniquet on her and the wound has almost stopped bleeding. ‘What happened?’ he asks as the ship hums in take-off. The wound turns out to be a bullet, and he shivers. Please don’t let it have hit the artery, please don’t let it have hit the artery…
‘Job went bad,’ Mal says bluntly, and he doesn’t listen for any more.
Later, as Kaylee sleeps and he cleans his instruments, he realises what the tourniquet was. The scarf is stiff, the colours lost to the rusty hue of dried blood. He washes it carefully, but the brown stains never fully fade away.
--------------
On Mr Universe’s planet, the rain falls gently on the distant plains as they watch the rocket fly. He half-wishes that it would rain on them instead and hide the tears pouring down her face, but the rest of the crew is lost in thought and no-one comments.
When she’s still crying three days later, though, he decides that it’s time for action. He finds her sitting under one of the engines, water falling in fat drops all around them. He sits down beside her and their arms press together, sharing a little warmth in the wet. He reaches out and uses the scarf to dry her eyes. ‘Don’t cry forever,’ he says gently.
‘I won’t,’ she promises.
They watch the sun set, and share the quiet together for a long time.
---------------
She takes great pleasure in storming out of the kitchen and slamming the door. Outside, it’s very quiet, at least compared to Simon. She’d never seen him as the loud argument type, but damn, the man can yell when he wants to. She wants to hit something badly, and settles for fiddling with the fraying edge of the scarf.
No-one is there to see her stomp down the stairs, which seems like a waste, but no-one is there to see her trip and fall halfway down either. She picks herself up with minimal fuss – scrapes and bruises come with being a mechanic – but the scarf is another story. It must have caught on a sharp corner, because there is a long tear running through the middle. She can fix machines just fine, but a job like this is beyond her. Instead, she takes it to Inara, and watches anxiously as the Companion carefully sews the edges together.
A few days later, when the awkward silences have become too much effort and they’ve started talking to each other again, Simon notices the line of stitches. ‘I didn’t realise this was torn.’
You don’t realise a lot of things is what she doesn’t say, because they’ll only start fighting again, and ‘Nara will get mighty tired of sewing. ‘It’s fixed now.’
‘Are we?’
Yes, they are, because couples forgive each other, and she can’t really remember what they were fighting about anyway. She’s forgiven him, and the scarf proves it. She wouldn’t have bothered to mend it otherwise.
‘I didn’t realise we were torn,’ she says, and has the pleasure of watching him look surprised, then confused, then immensely relieved.
-----------------
She didn’t mean to turn the scarf into a rag, honestly, but when the engines are shuddering and there’s oil leaking across the floor and Serenity is like to fall out of the sky, there’s no time for thinking. It’s all the captain’s fault, anyway. He told them to find a room, and they did. It just happened to be the engine room, and the scarf got left behind when she was trying to find her clothes.
Simon has thankfully learned enough tact to keep quiet while she turns the oily material over in her hands. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘I tried washing it, but engine grease never comes out.’ The square of thin material has survived blood, sweat, tears, and several memorable occasions as a blindfold, but not this.
‘Well, it lasted two years. That’s old, for a scarf, and now it gets to live in the engine room with you, which makes me mighty jealous.’ She can’t help but smile as the thought of him being jealous of a scarf sinks in. ‘’Sides, we can always find another one.’
That makes her excited. ‘Really?’
‘Definitely.’
‘Same colours as before?’
‘Whatever colours you want.’
‘Maybe green, this time,’ she says thoughtfully, ‘or purple.’
‘With stripes.’
‘Or flowers.’
‘Or little spaceships.’
They look at each other and laugh, happy that this is not the end, and go back to cleaning the engine room, both thinking of the future full of scarves that awaits them.
And now the entire crew is ganging up on me to write a multi-chapter fic. *hides*
| |
3,860 / 5,000 (77.2%) |
