flybywash | (no subject)

(no subject)

[After this.]

They check and re-check that Ace is comfortably settled in before returning to their own bunk. Wash scoots down the ladder first, hopping down each rung on his left foot, hands tight around the frame.

He's gotten good at it over the past six months.

Once he's reached the floor, he makes a beeline for the sink, fiddling with the latch a bit before pulling it out and switching on the faucet.

And then he just lets it run; and, after a moment, scoops up a handful of water to dash across his face.

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Zoe climbs down a lot slower than she used to; careful, her grip on every rung secure before she moves her foot.

She hasn't ever slipped on this ladder. But why take unneccessary risks?

Once down, she sinks onto the end of the bed, swinging her feet up to take her boots of instead of bending down.

Eventually, she speaks.

"Think she'll be okay?"

He dries off his face with the crook of his arm, glancing at Zoe in the mirror.

He has no idea what to say.

Ace, he has to believe, is still alive. But if she is...

Do you think She'll be mad? I didn't say good-bye.

"I hope so," is what he finally settles on, quiet and honest. And looking back to the sink, "I don't know."

There's a pause that's longer because Zoe can't get up as quickly.

And then her hip and shoulder bump against his back--she's twisted to the side some, to get closer to him than her belly would allow otherwise--and one arm wraps around his shoulders.

He smiles a little, without much mirth, and carefully leans back against her, closing his eyes.

"I think," he says with the same care, voice schooled to a level deliberation, "this is really not shaping up to be my best month ever."

Zoe lets out a humorless laugh.

Then, leaning her head against the back of his, "Are you gonna be okay?"

Wash exhales, thinking.

Eventually, he turns in her arms, enough to slip an arm around her and rest his forehead against the side of hers.

"Yeah," he decides. "Just gimme a bit."

Zoe nods, her hair falling forward to brush his cheek, and holds him quietly.

"Sure."

It's been coming up a lot lately, sneaking in between the nastier Niska-inspired dreams; as if his subconscious decided, hey, so long as we're reliving one of the worst days or your life, why not relive the other one, too?

Wash is heartily sick of it.

The fact that Ace is going through the same thing not too far away sure as hell doesn't help any, either.

He gently traces his thumb up and down her side, focusing, simply, on that: on her. On breath, and heartbeat, and --

Naomi chooses that moment to give them both a strong boot to the ribs.

"Oof."

Zoe grunts, then pulls away gently, moving back towards the bed, smiling faintly.

"Well, at least someone here ain't got a care in the 'verse."

And I aim to keep it that way as long as possible.

Wash snorts. The look in his eyes is considerably warmer than before.

Wiping aside a few last drops of water beading on his forehead, he joins her on their bed, and gives the side of her bump a gentle poke.

"Hey, one of us in this family's gotta take it on when I'm not up to par. It's a tough job. She carries it well."

Zoe swats his hand playfully, then scoots a bit closer, leaning against him.

"Takin' after her daddy already."

Wash affects an overexaggerated wince and pulls his hand away when she swats him, pretending to nurse it for a second before he settles an arm back around her as if nothing happened.

"You mean my genes are actually beating yours in a fair fight?" he teases, pressing a kiss to her temple. "At least something is."

Dryly, "Ha. Wouldn't go that far yet. Could be she'll be able t' beat you up when she gets big."

"What? She will not," he protests, incredulous. "Come on, leave me a little bit of my dignity here. It's a very small reserve and I don't have a lot to spare."

Beat.

Directed to his knees with mostly good-natured grumpiness, "Especially when I'm suddenly finding that scenario alarmingly possible -- Zo', why am I finding it so plausible?"

Zoe shakes her head, laughing.

That is, until she stops laughing abruptly, sitting bolt upright, one hand going to her stomach.

"...Tamade."

Wash's smile drops away just as fast.

"Zoe?"

"Damn."

The moment passes, and Zoe's hand drops away.

"Uh. Don't guess you've ever heard me or Simon mention Braxton-Hicks contractions, huh?"

"...."

His eyes have just gone about three sizes bigger.

"What contractions?"

Because the second word's kind of the one he's stuck on at the moment. In bold, flashing, six-foot-high letters.

"...In plain English, fake ones." She lays a hand over his, squeezing. "Nothin' t' panic about, honey."

"Oh. Right."

It's all he can say, because anything else he might try to say at the moment would only be audible to dogs and some long-extinct species of dolphin.

Eventually: "Okay. Not panicking. See me? This is me not panicking. I'll just...breathe, and maybe work on avoiding that heart attack I almost had."

Thunk goes his head against her shoulder.

Zoe snorts, but pats his hair sympathetically.

"Hey, I'm the one who just had the damn thing."

"Mmph. Curse you and your good points."

His heart's still thudding uncomfortably fast from the scare. Wash raises his head enough to kiss her neck, then sighs and pulls back a little.

"Are you okay?"

Zoe's free hand rubs her stomach again.

"Yeah. Little shaken up, but...yeah."

"So I can still hold off on the panicked middle-of-the-night calls to Simon for another six weeks. Good."

He runs his hand over her back in small circles.

With false cheer, "On the bright side, though, I'm wide awake now."

"Oh, good. So glad my third-trimester pregnancy makes for a good alarm clock."

Zoe's tone is dry, but she's smiling as she leans into him.

"It's kinda like a Swiss army knife." Just as cheerful.

And to stave off any potential glaring, he brushes some of her hair back and wraps his other arm around her.

Zoe settles for poking him in the side before slipping her arms around him as well, tucking her head against his shoulder.

It's been a wacky fun-filled evening.

Uh-huh.

Can he vote that they not do it again, ever?

Wash settles closer, closes his eyes, and breathes.

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