[ fic ] reason and rhyme

[sardonicynic]

title: reason and rhyme
author: wordsthatfail
summary: it's all in the timing
rating: PG-13 for some language
character(s): mal, inara; mentions of atherton wing
pairing(s): mal/inara
spoilers: set during shindig
disclaimer: the characters aren't mine, the words are. joss, please don't sue -- lowly copy editors aren't worth the effort.
a/n: written for whedonland's fic-fest. completely unbeta'd, so all mistakes are my own. while feedback is love, be brutal; i welcome comments and criticism of all kinds.


It's all in the timing.

Step, glide, turn, lather, rinse, repeat.

Inara moves with the grace of something holy -- or at least, she would if Mal still cottoned to any remotely sacrosanct notions -- and he's a half-step behind, awkward and uncertain on the dance floor in his too-tight pants and starched collar, the string orchestra mocking him with the flawless flow of cues he's half-missing.

But then she takes his hand, and he stops looking at his feet; he looks at her, and tiān xiăodé, don't she know she shouldn't stoop to being on Atherton gorram Wing's gorram arm?

He's about to tell her as much, but he's missed another cue, and Inara's hip bumps his. She's laughing, and he lets the sound wash through him as he forces a chuckle, cheeks reddening.

"Don't think I remember this one as well as I thought."

"That's presupposing you remember it at all," she ribs gently, squeezing his fingers.

He can feel the heat of her skin through the satin gloves she's wearing, and he finds part of him hoping the fine material don't catch on any of his callouses.

"I'll have you know -- "

She lifts her eyebrows, studying him with kohl-lined eyes, and he's fumbling again, tripping over his tongue instead of his feet.

"If you're inclined to lead, I'll most certainly follow," he finishes, the words tasting lame in his mouth.

But Inara's smile brightens, and she's shining with the brilliance of a hundred floating chandeliers as they begin moving together again in time to the music.

"You're not as bad at this as you pretend to be, Captain Reynolds."

"Only 'cause you make me look good."

Step, glide, turn --

"Better," she says, executing a perfect twirl. "I make you look better."

Ain't that the truth, he thinks, his jaw tight as she crosses the room to dance with Wing.



- - - - -
translation
tiān xiăodé: in the name of all that's sacred