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Entry tags:
F: Rhythm
Fandom: Firefly
Pairing: Mal/River
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Summary: River asks Mal to dance. For Terpsichore, the Greek muse of dance.
"Dance with me," River says, looking up at him and holding her hand out as if it's the most common request in the world. Mal's used to her peculiarities, so he isn't too fazed by the request, and yet --
"Why, little one? You know I can't dance."
"You do when you're drunk," she says, with a sly little smile. "It's easy. You can feel the rhythm better then. Everything has a rhythm, though. You, me, dancing, Serenity, Simon, Kaylee... you lost the rhythm for a while, but it's still there, waiting. Zoe lost the rhythm, found it, lost it, she'll find another to dance to. I want to dance."
"I'm not completely sure what you're saying, River," Mal says, although the look on her face makes him want to laugh -- the expression of an exasperated teacher with a particularly slow child, or his mother, when he was being particularly thick-headed, or Zoe, when he's making a damn fool out of himself.
"Dance with me."
That's comprehensible, at least, so Mal lets her take his hand. "I don't know no fancy dances, mind."
"You don't have to," she says, and her sudden sweet smile is brighter than any sun.
Pairing: Mal/River
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Summary: River asks Mal to dance. For Terpsichore, the Greek muse of dance.
"Dance with me," River says, looking up at him and holding her hand out as if it's the most common request in the world. Mal's used to her peculiarities, so he isn't too fazed by the request, and yet --
"Why, little one? You know I can't dance."
"You do when you're drunk," she says, with a sly little smile. "It's easy. You can feel the rhythm better then. Everything has a rhythm, though. You, me, dancing, Serenity, Simon, Kaylee... you lost the rhythm for a while, but it's still there, waiting. Zoe lost the rhythm, found it, lost it, she'll find another to dance to. I want to dance."
"I'm not completely sure what you're saying, River," Mal says, although the look on her face makes him want to laugh -- the expression of an exasperated teacher with a particularly slow child, or his mother, when he was being particularly thick-headed, or Zoe, when he's making a damn fool out of himself.
"Dance with me."
That's comprehensible, at least, so Mal lets her take his hand. "I don't know no fancy dances, mind."
"You don't have to," she says, and her sudden sweet smile is brighter than any sun.