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[flybywash]

Wash sits on the steps leading down to the bridge foredeck, feet splayed wide, one arm settled loosely atop his knees.

The yoke's locked in place. The autopilot light gleams.

A bottle of wine that some person or other swiped from Milliways -- he doesn't know who, and doesn't particularly care -- rests next to him. Every so often, he picks it up and takes a swig.

Comments

[badinlatin]

Mal likes to swipe wine from Milliways every once in awhile. He hardly ever actually asks for a bottle of Ng Ka Pe - Ng Ka Pe being way too disgusting to be worth bottling - but sometimes a nice 21st century Earth-that-Was red wine is nice. For Inara, of course.

This 'of course' is, naturally, being ruined by Wash and his thievery. Not that Mal particularly cares, he was coming for the bottle anyway.

"Ain't willing to invite me, I see," Mal calls to Wash, walking up the three remaining steps to the bridge from the main corridor.

[flybywash]

In response, without looking back, Wash holds up the bottle and wiggles it from side to side. It's still about three-quarters full.

"You're welcome to it," he says, and thumps it back down on the deckplates. "I drink the whole thing 'n I'm probably going to end up dead anyway."

[badinlatin]

Mal approaches and picks up the bottle, gesturing with the neck of it toward the view.

"Better sights than last time you and I were allowed alone with a bottle o' booze. Weren't that time sitting on bales o' hay or some such? And there were horses, and you kept stealing my flask."

His train of thought is cut off by a long draught of the wine - actually sweet, which Mal likes. Different than what he's used to.

[flybywash]

"I did not." Grumpily affronted.

Beat.

"I don't think I did," he amends, and leans his head against the rail. "Maybe a little bit. But just a little."

He twists his head back just enough to look at Mal before continuing, "So do I get a lecture about being unfit to fly or are you gonna let Zoe take care've that later?"

[badinlatin]

Feel the dour, Wash.

"'Fraid I'll leave that duty to the pregnant right-hand woman, so she can deal with me not being able to be captainly when I finish this wine by myself."

Mal also mutters something like, 'Not that I captain a lot anyway around here anymore'.

[flybywash]

"Hey, I was here first this time," Wash points out. He holds out an expectant hand for the bottle, eyes back on the stars. "An' speak up. I can't hear you."

[badinlatin]

"Last I checked, it was my wine. Stole it fair and square."

He still gives back the bottle anyway.

"And I didn't say nothin'."

[flybywash]

"Yes," says Wash carefully as he looks back, eyebrows raised, "you did."

He sighs and takes another gulp from the bottle, then sets it near his feet.

[badinlatin]

"Didn't say nothin' worth repeating," Mal corrects. "But if I were to repeat it, I'd need somethin' stronger 'n wine."

Mal stands then, disappearing into the corridor. Wash can probably hear Mal descending into his bunk, returning a minute later with a familiar flask.

"So. Repeating. If I were to repeat myself, it'd probably sound like 'It's not like I captain a lot around here anymore'. Probably."

[flybywash]

"The mutiny thing was a joke, Mal." He slants an exasperated look at him. "You know, funny, hah-hah, sense've -- "

He blinks, and refocuses his look.

" -- something that's not about me."

Wash looks back down at the wine bottle, absently drags a fingernail around the lip of the neck. He thinks.

"Kaylee been talkin' to you?"

[badinlatin]

"That she has."

Swig of something from the flask that makes even Mal's tastebuds rebel in self-defense.

"...Came to borrow duct tape. Among other topics o' conversation, Niska came up. And Crowley."

[flybywash]

"Yep." It's mumbled to himself, almost too quiet to be heard. He lifts the bottle again. "That explains it."

A swig.

And a little louder, "Got one of those Niska-and-Crowley talks myself." Beat. "They've got a plan."

There's been enough alcohol involved by now to let a touch of bitterness seep through, unawares.

[badinlatin]

"Yup. Got the details worked out and everything."

Mal can't sense Wash's bitterness through his own.

"Kaylee told me to...how'd she say it...'not be like that'."

[flybywash]

Wash snorts.

"Be like what, less'n happy he's still gonna be walkin' after they're done with their great plan?"

Slightest emphasis on 'their.'

Can I make a suggestion that doesn't involve violence, or is this the wrong crowd? he said once. But, hey. He's an open-minded kind of guy.

Especially when it comes to dealing with Niska.

[badinlatin]

"I think it was more 'Don't be mad that I went around you to make plans about someone you want dead just 'cause I think you'd get yourself dead in the process."

[flybywash]

Wash starts to shake his head, then reconsiders. It makes things a little too wobbly.

"A big, blunt object. Really big." He holds out his hands to demonstrate. "A spot out back, an' five minutes. How hard is that? Hundan's old and harmless, as everybody -- " and oh, it's definitely bitter now, "keeps remindin' me."

[badinlatin]

A hand goes up to the skin under the right shoulder of his shirt, feeling a scar there.

"Ain't harmless," he utters darkly.

[flybywash]

"I know."

His stomach's curling in on itself. The bottle returns to the steps; Wash rubs his elbows, not looking up.

"Just 'cause he's away from the station they think it's...." His body shudders. "They don't get it."

Not even Zoe, entirely.

[badinlatin]

After Wash, Zoe understands it the most, to Mal's mind.

Not that she knows what Wash does about it, now.

"Can't do a whole lot more o' this, Wash," Mal starts off. "Red. Niska. Somethin' needs to go good and it needs to go good soon, and I need to help it go good or else I might as well ruttin' resign."

[flybywash]

"You're not gonna resign."

It's mumbled, but stated with full confidence: as fact.

Wash has always been convinced Mal couldn't leave this ship any more than he could.

[badinlatin]

"I know. I ain't ever leavin'."

Swig. Then a hollow sound - Mal's flask is empty.

"I love her. Gotta keep her safe."

Mal has way too many 'hers' in his brain to specify which one this sentence refers to.

[flybywash]

"Exactly."

Silence.

After a minute, he offers the wine bottle back to Mal again.

[badinlatin]

Mal takes the bottle gratefully.

"...I'm all about not dying. Again. Just...you know."

Mal has no clue if Wash actually does know, but articulation is not one of his strong suits at the moment.

[flybywash]

At the moment...not so much. On both the articulation and the knowing.

Wash eyes him. It lasts longer than it ought, on account of the wine.

"Huh?"

[badinlatin]

"Don't worry about it," Mal cuts off Wash's questioning glance.

"I'll figure everything out. Eventually."

Even if Kaylee doesn't think he will.

[flybywash]

Wash blinks, but lets go of it easily enough, turning his attention back to the sky with a loose-limbed shrug.

"Dying again ain't exactly high on my agenda, either," he says after a moment.

It seems a reasonable enough contribution.

[badinlatin]

"What is on your agenda? 'Sides dealin' with Zoe for the next month?"

Mal does not envy Wash, with this.

[flybywash]

"'S about it." He rests the side of his head on the rail again, deep in thought. "Stay alive and keep Zoe okay. Deal with Niska. Ain't figured that one out yet, blunt object'd work, I just...."

He trails off.

Possibly, even he hasn't figured out where that sentence is going yet.

[badinlatin]

Bullet'd work better. Probably won't get a chance now.

"Next time we want to get drunk, we need better liquor. That way, Inara'll have a...a harder time pickin' up on what 'd been consuming."

[flybywash]

"She'd know anyway. 'S got...what is it. Good at knowing."

He frowns suddenly.

"Wait wait wait. Was that wine hers?"

He thought Mal said it was his.

[badinlatin]

"No. 'S mine. Why? Does that make a difference?"

Does Wash not have problems with taking Mal's things over Inara's?

:O!

[flybywash]

"Nuh-uh. You're just confusing me." Petulantly, "Stop confusin' me. I can't handle confusion when 'm drunk."

[badinlatin]

"Can't handle confusion when you're sober, neither."

[flybywash]

"Hey! I can too."

Now it's Wash's turn: :O!

"Y'know," he says, pointing at Mal, "you're lucky my dinos're over there and my aim'd be off, 'cause otherwise I'd throw one. An' it wouldn't be a small one, neither. Pointy. Lots of spikes. Yeah."

A firm nod, a few seconds of blinking to make the room re-settle, and he rubs his forehead.

[badinlatin]

"Yeah, we're done with the alcohol for the evening," Mal surmises, adding 'Obvious' to his list of 'Captain' nicknames.

"Autopilot's set for the night, yeah?"

[flybywash]

"Mm-hmm. Out far enough t'leave it on. Ain't gonna hit anything."

Beat.

"Do I have t'leave?"

It's a little plaintive. Wash likes it up here. It's nice. No Niska.

Also, he's not entirely sure he can stand.

[badinlatin]

"No. But Zo' might come up and hunt you down if you don't."




"Not that I'm necessarily goin' nowhere either."

Mal likes it up here too.

[flybywash]

"Good. Here, there, doesn't matter."

He settles against the rail a bit more firmly.

"You c'n order her to leave me alone. She'll listen. She always listens. Most of the time."

[badinlatin]

Wash gets glared at.

"The last time I tried to give Zoe an order when I's inebriated, I ended up with a black eye. From her."

[flybywash]

Wash snorts out a loud laugh.

Pretty soon, this has degenerated into outright giggling. It doesn't stop.

Why this is so funny, he has no gorram idea, but it is.

[badinlatin]

"You want me to follow in her footsteps I see," Mal quips, with no real force as he stands in the most wobbly manner possible.

[flybywash]

He's still laughing too hard to come up with a coherent reply. It's getting kind of hard to catch his breath.

"I'd -- " he tries, and gives up, fading back into giggles.

[badinlatin]

"...be wantin' to see that? Okay. Eventually. When you stop spinnin'."

Mal makes it to a locker, throwing a blanket from inside it at Wash's head.

"I'm goin' to bed, Washburne. You shiny over there?"

[flybywash]

-- "Mmph!"

Clumsily, Wash untangles himself from the blanket, grinning. "Yeah. 'M shiny. Don't let Zo' punch you on the way back."

Snerk.

[badinlatin]

"I'm 'a regret tellin' you that, I think," Mal muses.

"Good night, Wash," he calls back, going to go fall over in his bunk.

The 'Ow' discernable in the hallway may be Mal hitting his head against the top of the hatch to his bunk.

[flybywash]

"Night, cap'n."

He balls up the blanket and wraps his arms around it, not even bothering to stifle the yawn that follows.

Several minutes later, he realizes that sleeping on the steps is kind of difficult; Wash hauls himself to his feet with some help from the railing and stumbles to the co-pilot's chair. He wraps the blanket around himself and burrows in.

After that, the only sound on the bridge is quiet snoring.