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F: Just Like That
Fandom: Firefly
Main characters: Mal, Inara
Referenced characters: N/a
Pairings: implied Mal/Inara
Contains: N/a
Rating: G
Summary: She expected to see inside him someday, but not like this. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
comment_fic.
People usually have more to them than you see on the surface. Inara knows this, of course, and in her line of work, more often than not, you do get under people's skin. There's something about sex that does that, and -- this is more cynical -- there's something about buying someone for your pleasure that makes you imagine they want to listen to everything you have to say. Of course, more often than not, Inara does. The reason she's so good at her job is because she's so convincing. She's convincing, because she believes in what she does, the ease and grace she can bring.
She expected, then, to see under Captain Reynolds' skin, in the end. It wouldn't be the same -- she would never sleep with him -- but she would see it, in the end, because that's her gift. Drawing people out, seeing the real person. She'd expected something... somehow romantic, something desperate. Certainly not something mundane. With the life the crew of Serenity lead, she expected plenty of opportunities to see inside him -- perhaps a wound, and perhaps she would help him, or perhaps he would save her life.
Companions don't forget their romantic notions that easily, after all.
But it's not that. She's making tea for herself, one morning, and he comes in -- a little ruffled, almost unsteady on his feet, sleep-blurred. He glances at her and she raises an eyebrow, expecting him to look away. Instead, he clears his throat. "Mind making me some of that tea?" he asks, and somehow, somehow that's it, and she sees, sees kindness and softness and hurt. There's a retort that rises to her lips, something about normally asking people to pay for her time, because that's the kind of bitter thing that falls out of her mouth around him.
Instead, she keeps her voice soft. "Yes," she says, just that, and he smiles at her.
Perhaps there is still the slightest tinge of romance, because her heart lurches in her chest in a way it hasn't in a long, long time.
Main characters: Mal, Inara
Referenced characters: N/a
Pairings: implied Mal/Inara
Contains: N/a
Rating: G
Summary: She expected to see inside him someday, but not like this. For
comment_fic.People usually have more to them than you see on the surface. Inara knows this, of course, and in her line of work, more often than not, you do get under people's skin. There's something about sex that does that, and -- this is more cynical -- there's something about buying someone for your pleasure that makes you imagine they want to listen to everything you have to say. Of course, more often than not, Inara does. The reason she's so good at her job is because she's so convincing. She's convincing, because she believes in what she does, the ease and grace she can bring.
She expected, then, to see under Captain Reynolds' skin, in the end. It wouldn't be the same -- she would never sleep with him -- but she would see it, in the end, because that's her gift. Drawing people out, seeing the real person. She'd expected something... somehow romantic, something desperate. Certainly not something mundane. With the life the crew of Serenity lead, she expected plenty of opportunities to see inside him -- perhaps a wound, and perhaps she would help him, or perhaps he would save her life.
Companions don't forget their romantic notions that easily, after all.
But it's not that. She's making tea for herself, one morning, and he comes in -- a little ruffled, almost unsteady on his feet, sleep-blurred. He glances at her and she raises an eyebrow, expecting him to look away. Instead, he clears his throat. "Mind making me some of that tea?" he asks, and somehow, somehow that's it, and she sees, sees kindness and softness and hurt. There's a retort that rises to her lips, something about normally asking people to pay for her time, because that's the kind of bitter thing that falls out of her mouth around him.
Instead, she keeps her voice soft. "Yes," she says, just that, and he smiles at her.
Perhaps there is still the slightest tinge of romance, because her heart lurches in her chest in a way it hasn't in a long, long time.