(no subject)

[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]

"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.