Notes: Written for the Firefly Friday Challenge, 100-1000 words on change
Disclaimer: These folks ain't mine. They’s Joss’s and FOX’s, for better or worse. All I got is this piece of sky outside my window, and you can’t take it from me.
Feedback: Very much appreciated, and can be sent here
The invitation was for seven p.m. at the place Inara had chosen in the Berg district. It was now rapidly approaching six forty five.
Wash pulled on his boots, the brown ones with the gray laces. He ran a hand through his hair the wrong way, and tugged at the hem of his red and orange striped shirt.
"Okay!" he shuffled away from the closet and clapped his hands, "If we go now, we can actually walk down to the place before we-"
"Not that shirt."
"Zoe, I...this is a good shirt!"
She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest.
"O...kay." Wash spun on his heel and went back to his closet.
Black pants replaced tan ones, and...oh, the yellow shirt was just cleaned. Well, a while ago, but "just" was a highly relative word.
"Not a chance."
"Your eyes are closed! That's not fair! You don't even know what I'm wearing!"
"That's uncanny. Damn your freaksome foreknowledge of my fashionable faux pas."
"Just tryin' to help."
Wash pulled a white dress shirt from the bottom of a folded stack. He waved it over his head, waggling his eyebrows at Zoe, "Hey, baby...this one's nice. This one?"
"Wash, darling, that's my shirt."
"Ahhhh," he held it up to his bare chest, checked the mirror, "so it is. Still..."
Zoe stood and walked over to where Wash now stood, shirtless and slouching. She laced her fingers together over his belly and rested her head on his shoulder.
"The black sweater. And the first pair of pants you had on."
Wash pulled the sweater over his head and turned to let Zoe brush his hair from his forehead.
"I don't tell you what to wear," his pout-face was out in force.
Zoe ran her hands down the sides of her blouse, over the curve of her hip.
"That's because I looked good from the start."
She swung her leg up a few rungs of the ladder and climbed.
Wash closed his mouth. Opened it again and furrowed his eyebrows, closed his mouth. Giggled a bit (in a manly way). He climbed quickly from their bunk, jogged to catch up with Zoe.
"I'm just sayin', next time you want me to change, you know..." He slung an arm around her waist.
Zoe stopped, turned and set her hands on his chest.
"I don't ever want you to change," she pressed her forehead against his.
"You know what I meant," he kissed her gently.
"I don't ever want you to change," she looked in his eyes and Wash could have been convinced of anything. He knew she'd just been helping him with what he knew were his consistently creative sartorial choices. He'd struck some chord, though, and he filed it away in the "Conversations to Have" drawer in his mind. All that emotion brought up, just over a word.
Zoe slipped her hand into his, and pulled him down the corridor.
"I love you," he said.
Wash knew a little about the power of words.
© scrunchy 2003