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vinniebatman This is a short fic I wrote for another community; it isn't smutty, but it is a bit angsty. Hope you like it!
Title: Evidence
Author: vinniebatman
Fandom: Firefly
Pairing/Character: Mal/Simon
Rating/Warnings: Um, not naughty? Teen, I guess
Prompt: When she doesn't respond, I know/ she's used up all her words/ so I slowly whisper I love you, /thirty-two and a third times. ~Jeffery McDaniel // The Quiet World
Summary:
Disclaimer: I hired a pack of ninjas to kidnap Joss; he was threatened with hot poker torture and chainsaws so I could meet the real him. I now own all. Thank you.
A/N: Originally, this was going to be a total downer, but it kinda changed on me. I hope it isn't too schmaltzy. Written for the communityfanfic_fiesta
Title: Evidence
Author: vinniebatman
Fandom: Firefly
Pairing/Character: Mal/Simon
Rating/Warnings: Um, not naughty? Teen, I guess
Prompt: When she doesn't respond, I know/ she's used up all her words/ so I slowly whisper I love you, /thirty-two and a third times. ~Jeffery McDaniel // The Quiet World
Summary:
Disclaimer: I hired a pack of ninjas to kidnap Joss; he was threatened with hot poker torture and chainsaws so I could meet the real him. I now own all. Thank you.
A/N: Originally, this was going to be a total downer, but it kinda changed on me. I hope it isn't too schmaltzy. Written for the community
fanfic_fiesta"This isn't just sex," I tell him. Sweat and come cool on our bodies, turning us sticky as lungs gasp for air. He freezes next to me. Tension lines his body, stiffening muscles that were loose only ten seconds ago.
"Don't tell me you believe that go se in those books Kaylee likes to read."
I laugh. "I am aware of the fact that true romance only rarely involves flowery declarations of love. I can assure that I have no intention of breaking down crying, swooning or putting on a ruffled dress, Mal."
He laughs, but it's short and forced. I continue. "But this isn't just sex."
The thin smile on his face disappears.
"No, Doc. That's exactly what this is," he growls, moving from his bunk to quickly don the pants I'd peeled off of him only a short time ago. In the space of two minutes we go from "Simon" to "Doc," a return to the cold formality Mal favors when shaken. The distance he's trying to wedge between us is almost tangible. He doesn't want to hear me so he turns and faces his desk, fiddling with various items. "All I'm offerin' is a quick rut now and again. You want love, go an' see little Kaylee. She's still chasin' that fairytale."
"So River lied when she said you watch me, that you only sleep when I'm in your bed."
He swallows hard and flares his nostrils.
"Guess you need to teach your sister that lyin's wrong."
"And Zoe and Kaylee." Mal stops moving completely, pretending I'm not in the room. He thinks he's worthless, a charred shell of death with a beating heart. He thinks that if he tells me it's just sex, I'll believe it and move on from him someday. But I know better; it isn't just my sister and Zoe and Kaylee; I see it in his eyes too. A warmth that shows his soul healing from the death and pain of his past, an affection that I've never seen him direct towards anyone else. I see the circles under his eyes, the weary thunk of his footfalls after we've separated for a night.
"This isn't just sex, Mal. Yes, it is lust and passion, but there's comfort and safety and familiarity. This is what love really is. It isn't some grand romantic gesture and continual passion. It's passion with warmth and comfort."
He doesn't answer me; he's still too afraid and he's used up all his words for the night. I pull on my clothes in silence, observing the steel tension in his body. Dressed, I walk up behind him and rest my hand on his shoulder. He's staring at a random piece of paper clenched in his fist. He doesn't move, just ignores me. Sighing, I rest my forehead against his back.
"I love you, Mal. I love this mean old man. I love you." I keep whispering to him, repeating those three words. They're my litany, a ceaseless prayer for him to trust me.
But he doesn't turn around, doesn't believe me, won't dare to believe that I choose him. Turning from him, I leave his bunk, the door slamming shut with a hollow clang. I'll give him the night to think. But there isn't anyplace he can truly hide on a ship in the black. I'll find him and tell him thirty times everyday, until one day he has enough evidence to believe me.
"Don't tell me you believe that go se in those books Kaylee likes to read."
I laugh. "I am aware of the fact that true romance only rarely involves flowery declarations of love. I can assure that I have no intention of breaking down crying, swooning or putting on a ruffled dress, Mal."
He laughs, but it's short and forced. I continue. "But this isn't just sex."
The thin smile on his face disappears.
"No, Doc. That's exactly what this is," he growls, moving from his bunk to quickly don the pants I'd peeled off of him only a short time ago. In the space of two minutes we go from "Simon" to "Doc," a return to the cold formality Mal favors when shaken. The distance he's trying to wedge between us is almost tangible. He doesn't want to hear me so he turns and faces his desk, fiddling with various items. "All I'm offerin' is a quick rut now and again. You want love, go an' see little Kaylee. She's still chasin' that fairytale."
"So River lied when she said you watch me, that you only sleep when I'm in your bed."
He swallows hard and flares his nostrils.
"Guess you need to teach your sister that lyin's wrong."
"And Zoe and Kaylee." Mal stops moving completely, pretending I'm not in the room. He thinks he's worthless, a charred shell of death with a beating heart. He thinks that if he tells me it's just sex, I'll believe it and move on from him someday. But I know better; it isn't just my sister and Zoe and Kaylee; I see it in his eyes too. A warmth that shows his soul healing from the death and pain of his past, an affection that I've never seen him direct towards anyone else. I see the circles under his eyes, the weary thunk of his footfalls after we've separated for a night.
"This isn't just sex, Mal. Yes, it is lust and passion, but there's comfort and safety and familiarity. This is what love really is. It isn't some grand romantic gesture and continual passion. It's passion with warmth and comfort."
He doesn't answer me; he's still too afraid and he's used up all his words for the night. I pull on my clothes in silence, observing the steel tension in his body. Dressed, I walk up behind him and rest my hand on his shoulder. He's staring at a random piece of paper clenched in his fist. He doesn't move, just ignores me. Sighing, I rest my forehead against his back.
"I love you, Mal. I love this mean old man. I love you." I keep whispering to him, repeating those three words. They're my litany, a ceaseless prayer for him to trust me.
But he doesn't turn around, doesn't believe me, won't dare to believe that I choose him. Turning from him, I leave his bunk, the door slamming shut with a hollow clang. I'll give him the night to think. But there isn't anyplace he can truly hide on a ship in the black. I'll find him and tell him thirty times everyday, until one day he has enough evidence to believe me.
