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jedibuttercup) wrote2023-06-24 01:56 pm
jedibuttercup) wrote2023-06-24 01:56 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: There Are Always Flowers [PG; Firefly, Mal/Inara]
T; Firefly/Serenity, Mal/Inara. 1400w, for ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
eventcentral's Seven Wildflowers fest. Mild AU.
"Gotta say," Mal mused, "when I started payin' River a cut of the take, this wasn't hardly what I expected her to do with it."
Title: There Are Always Flowers
Author: Jedi Buttercup
Disclaimer: The words are mine; the worlds are not.
Spoilers: Firefly (post-Serenity); mild AU
Notes: For Seven Wildflowers, for the prompt "Dragon's mouth". In service of nostalgia, fix-its, and hope.
Summary: "Gotta say," Mal mused, "when I started payin' River a cut of the take, this wasn't hardly what I expected her to do with it." 1400 words.
Mal stared after the younger Tam as she wended her way excitedly through the organic side of the port market, a frown of some perplexity drawing across his brow.
"Gotta say," he mused, "when I started payin' River a cut of the take, this wasn't hardly what I expected her to do with it."
Inara, arm linked through his as they meandered their own slow way after Serenity's youngest crewmember, gave a low laugh. "What were you expecting?"
"I dunno. Some kind of fripperies, maybe? New combat boots? Presents for her brother?" He shrugged. "Shiny weapons I'll end up pretending she don't have so I can still sleep at night?" The mind of a woman-- well, Core-raised folk; couldn't hardly account for Simon, neither-- was a maze to him on the best of days, and even with her worst behind her River still weren't any kind of predictable.
"She's a teenage girl, Mal," Inara countered, in the amused tones of one recounting the obvious. "Psychic or not, I think she's entitled to a few impractical impulse purchases."
"Yeah, but plants? Hothouse plants as don't even got any kind of secondary purpose?" Mal shook his head as River forked over a goodly chunk of coin for a white ceramic pot containing a few leaves and a flash of vivid pink. "We live on a spaceship, Inara. How's it going to get enough sunlight?"
River gave him a speaking look as she skipped back over, heavy boots thudding on the market's duracrete flooring. "The corms of arethusa bulbosa have been used as a remedy for toothache-- though this one's not for your teeth, nor mine," she admonished him, as though earnestly concerned he'd do that very thing. "It has a different purpose."
"Does it now?" Mal replied, eyebrows climbing. "Unless you're makin' some kind of tea of it, don't see how the lack of sunlight's gonna help. That there's an orchid, little one; needs sunshine and moisture both."
"Needs light," she countered. "Whole spectrum to work with; no need for a precise solar configuration when we have a Kaylee. It's to hang over my pillow. For midsummer."
Inara audibly caught her breath, an unexpectedly sentimental expression adding dimples to her smile. "Oh, that's lovely, River. Though I thought the tradition was seven wildflowers?"
"I'll buy a bouquet for the others. But I wanted to see this one grow, and midsummer's an arbitrary holiday based on the seasons of a world-that-was anyway." River grinned, clutching the pot closer. "Making my own tradition."
Mal wasn't sure quite what they were talking about, but he had recognized part of the orchid's name from his long-neglected literary education. Somehow, he didn't think this specific flower choice was just for the pretty, or to make up numbers. "Wasn't Arethusa the nymph got turned into a stream in the myths, so she could escape her pursuer and fountain up somewhere he couldn't reach?"
For a brief moment, the woman looking out of River's dark gaze wasn't the graceful girl with an oddness to her; it was the angel of death he'd seen on Miranda, unbowed by the weight of the Alliance's secrets. "She's a person, actual and whole," she quoted solemnly.
That was part explanation by way of reminder, he thought, but part challenge too; was he going to let her have this? Well, and why not? "That she is," he replied, voice softening. "That she is. Now-- whyn't you go find your brother and Kaylee? Show off your prize, and ask about them light panels."
In the next moment she was the girl again, bright smile reaching clear to her eyes. "Xiè-xie, Captain," she said cheerfully, then turned back into the crowd, half-dancing as she got to moving once more.
"Isn't that plant also called Dragon's mouth?" Inara said, watching her go.
"For the shape of the flower, I'm assuming," he nodded, "but as a warning that Here Be Dangers that Could Swallow a Body Whole? Yeah, I think that also fits. My mother kept a few orchids in the kitchen window, with about the same amount of foreboding, should some hypothetical individual ever knock 'em down or forget to water 'em when told. I dearly hope River's right about the light panels; teenage glee's disturbing enough on my boat, don't think I'm quite prepared for teenage tears."
"I think you hired the wrong crew if you were ever expecting a business-like workplace," Inara replied, very dryly. "I'm sure you'll manage."
Their conversations had taken a lighter tone since the events on Miranda, though still as full of bickering as ever; Mal couldn't hardly account for it, except perhaps that that streak of messy business had settled some of the storm in him same as it had for River. It had felt good to finally strike a telling blow against the Alliance after what felt like years of swallowing down unjustice, one reeking bite at a time. And maybe, too, it had given them both perspective; she didn't throw political points in his face anymore like they was just words on a Cortex screen, and after decisively rejecting all the ways the Parliament tried to control people, even he'd had to admit that what Inara did with her workin' hours was fully her business and none of his. Wherever she went, whoever she saw, they both knew now she'd come home to Serenity.
Not that he was ready to say any such thing, but he thought she caught the gist. "So what was that about the seven wildflowers?" he asked, turning them toward the food stalls. It had been awhile since they'd had fresh fruit aboard, and he had some of his own coin to burn.
"Oh, it's an old legend," Inara replied easily, following his lead. "Just folklore, of course, and the tales vary, but it's tradition on some worlds to pick seven wildflowers and sleep with them under your pillow on Midsummer, to dream of your one true love."
"Huh."
Mal didn't knock the existence of true love, having watched his second go through just that unaccountable process upon meeting a mouthy civilian pilot with whom she had very little objectively in common. Just walking past the infirmary these days was like to fill the ears with nauseating proof; only an instinctive flinch, half a second of rising from the pilot's chair when the Reavers had come a-hunting on Mr. Universe's Moon, had kept Wash from being skewered clear through instead of taking a bite out of his side. Having to leave him there, thinking him dead at the time, had nearly wrecked Zoë; finding him barely alive after had finished the job. He'd be a spell recovering, but that didn't keep them from taking every chance to reaffirm their connection.
On the other hand. It weren't no easy sunshine and flowers to find, nor to keep. And River was just eighteen. Had an oddness to her, as before stated, and had become an invaluable part of his crew. Trying to imagine her meeting her soulmate was like to make Mal's head hurt.
"Nothing more to say?" Inara aimed an arch look up at him.
Best not to think on it, then; best to keep his eye on his own attempt at sunshine and flowers. "Oh, just wonderin' if maybe I should pick up a bouquet," he said lightly, smiling back at her.
Her eyes lit up, half in affront and half in delight; one hundred percent lovely, as always. "Maybe you should, if you really think you need one," she said, tartly.
Mal knew better than to bite at that; he chuckled instead. "Oh, I think I know what I'd see if I did, but sometimes a man likes to know the 'verse is in agreement."
"Well, maybe I should pick one up then," she parried back, tone sparkling. "Just, you know, to be perfectly clear. Maybe I left my soulmate behind on Persephone."
He knew she meant Atherton Wing, he of the sword and the fragile ego; but that was too easy an opportunity to forgo. "Well, there's no accounting for taste, but I suppose Badger is a business fella and a pillar of the community...."
"Mal!" Inara sputtered, still grinning even as she swatted at his arm.
He chuckled and continued on through the market, determined to enjoy the fine day and the fine company just so long as they were given.
(x-posted on AO3)
eventcentral's Seven Wildflowers fest. Mild AU."Gotta say," Mal mused, "when I started payin' River a cut of the take, this wasn't hardly what I expected her to do with it."
Title: There Are Always Flowers
Author: Jedi Buttercup
Disclaimer: The words are mine; the worlds are not.
Spoilers: Firefly (post-Serenity); mild AU
Notes: For Seven Wildflowers, for the prompt "Dragon's mouth". In service of nostalgia, fix-its, and hope.
Summary: "Gotta say," Mal mused, "when I started payin' River a cut of the take, this wasn't hardly what I expected her to do with it." 1400 words.
Mal stared after the younger Tam as she wended her way excitedly through the organic side of the port market, a frown of some perplexity drawing across his brow.
"Gotta say," he mused, "when I started payin' River a cut of the take, this wasn't hardly what I expected her to do with it."
Inara, arm linked through his as they meandered their own slow way after Serenity's youngest crewmember, gave a low laugh. "What were you expecting?"
"I dunno. Some kind of fripperies, maybe? New combat boots? Presents for her brother?" He shrugged. "Shiny weapons I'll end up pretending she don't have so I can still sleep at night?" The mind of a woman-- well, Core-raised folk; couldn't hardly account for Simon, neither-- was a maze to him on the best of days, and even with her worst behind her River still weren't any kind of predictable.
"She's a teenage girl, Mal," Inara countered, in the amused tones of one recounting the obvious. "Psychic or not, I think she's entitled to a few impractical impulse purchases."
"Yeah, but plants? Hothouse plants as don't even got any kind of secondary purpose?" Mal shook his head as River forked over a goodly chunk of coin for a white ceramic pot containing a few leaves and a flash of vivid pink. "We live on a spaceship, Inara. How's it going to get enough sunlight?"
River gave him a speaking look as she skipped back over, heavy boots thudding on the market's duracrete flooring. "The corms of arethusa bulbosa have been used as a remedy for toothache-- though this one's not for your teeth, nor mine," she admonished him, as though earnestly concerned he'd do that very thing. "It has a different purpose."
"Does it now?" Mal replied, eyebrows climbing. "Unless you're makin' some kind of tea of it, don't see how the lack of sunlight's gonna help. That there's an orchid, little one; needs sunshine and moisture both."
"Needs light," she countered. "Whole spectrum to work with; no need for a precise solar configuration when we have a Kaylee. It's to hang over my pillow. For midsummer."
Inara audibly caught her breath, an unexpectedly sentimental expression adding dimples to her smile. "Oh, that's lovely, River. Though I thought the tradition was seven wildflowers?"
"I'll buy a bouquet for the others. But I wanted to see this one grow, and midsummer's an arbitrary holiday based on the seasons of a world-that-was anyway." River grinned, clutching the pot closer. "Making my own tradition."
Mal wasn't sure quite what they were talking about, but he had recognized part of the orchid's name from his long-neglected literary education. Somehow, he didn't think this specific flower choice was just for the pretty, or to make up numbers. "Wasn't Arethusa the nymph got turned into a stream in the myths, so she could escape her pursuer and fountain up somewhere he couldn't reach?"
For a brief moment, the woman looking out of River's dark gaze wasn't the graceful girl with an oddness to her; it was the angel of death he'd seen on Miranda, unbowed by the weight of the Alliance's secrets. "She's a person, actual and whole," she quoted solemnly.
That was part explanation by way of reminder, he thought, but part challenge too; was he going to let her have this? Well, and why not? "That she is," he replied, voice softening. "That she is. Now-- whyn't you go find your brother and Kaylee? Show off your prize, and ask about them light panels."
In the next moment she was the girl again, bright smile reaching clear to her eyes. "Xiè-xie, Captain," she said cheerfully, then turned back into the crowd, half-dancing as she got to moving once more.
"Isn't that plant also called Dragon's mouth?" Inara said, watching her go.
"For the shape of the flower, I'm assuming," he nodded, "but as a warning that Here Be Dangers that Could Swallow a Body Whole? Yeah, I think that also fits. My mother kept a few orchids in the kitchen window, with about the same amount of foreboding, should some hypothetical individual ever knock 'em down or forget to water 'em when told. I dearly hope River's right about the light panels; teenage glee's disturbing enough on my boat, don't think I'm quite prepared for teenage tears."
"I think you hired the wrong crew if you were ever expecting a business-like workplace," Inara replied, very dryly. "I'm sure you'll manage."
Their conversations had taken a lighter tone since the events on Miranda, though still as full of bickering as ever; Mal couldn't hardly account for it, except perhaps that that streak of messy business had settled some of the storm in him same as it had for River. It had felt good to finally strike a telling blow against the Alliance after what felt like years of swallowing down unjustice, one reeking bite at a time. And maybe, too, it had given them both perspective; she didn't throw political points in his face anymore like they was just words on a Cortex screen, and after decisively rejecting all the ways the Parliament tried to control people, even he'd had to admit that what Inara did with her workin' hours was fully her business and none of his. Wherever she went, whoever she saw, they both knew now she'd come home to Serenity.
Not that he was ready to say any such thing, but he thought she caught the gist. "So what was that about the seven wildflowers?" he asked, turning them toward the food stalls. It had been awhile since they'd had fresh fruit aboard, and he had some of his own coin to burn.
"Oh, it's an old legend," Inara replied easily, following his lead. "Just folklore, of course, and the tales vary, but it's tradition on some worlds to pick seven wildflowers and sleep with them under your pillow on Midsummer, to dream of your one true love."
"Huh."
Mal didn't knock the existence of true love, having watched his second go through just that unaccountable process upon meeting a mouthy civilian pilot with whom she had very little objectively in common. Just walking past the infirmary these days was like to fill the ears with nauseating proof; only an instinctive flinch, half a second of rising from the pilot's chair when the Reavers had come a-hunting on Mr. Universe's Moon, had kept Wash from being skewered clear through instead of taking a bite out of his side. Having to leave him there, thinking him dead at the time, had nearly wrecked Zoë; finding him barely alive after had finished the job. He'd be a spell recovering, but that didn't keep them from taking every chance to reaffirm their connection.
On the other hand. It weren't no easy sunshine and flowers to find, nor to keep. And River was just eighteen. Had an oddness to her, as before stated, and had become an invaluable part of his crew. Trying to imagine her meeting her soulmate was like to make Mal's head hurt.
"Nothing more to say?" Inara aimed an arch look up at him.
Best not to think on it, then; best to keep his eye on his own attempt at sunshine and flowers. "Oh, just wonderin' if maybe I should pick up a bouquet," he said lightly, smiling back at her.
Her eyes lit up, half in affront and half in delight; one hundred percent lovely, as always. "Maybe you should, if you really think you need one," she said, tartly.
Mal knew better than to bite at that; he chuckled instead. "Oh, I think I know what I'd see if I did, but sometimes a man likes to know the 'verse is in agreement."
"Well, maybe I should pick one up then," she parried back, tone sparkling. "Just, you know, to be perfectly clear. Maybe I left my soulmate behind on Persephone."
He knew she meant Atherton Wing, he of the sword and the fragile ego; but that was too easy an opportunity to forgo. "Well, there's no accounting for taste, but I suppose Badger is a business fella and a pillar of the community...."
"Mal!" Inara sputtered, still grinning even as she swatted at his arm.
He chuckled and continued on through the market, determined to enjoy the fine day and the fine company just so long as they were given.
(x-posted on AO3)