ratherastory (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ratherastory) wrote2014-01-31 11:12 pm
ratherastory) wrote2014-01-31 11:12 pm
You Can't Break Away--And You Never Want To
Title: You Can't Break Away--And You Never Want To
Summary: Firefly crossover/fusion-type thing. Dean accompanies his brother to visit Sam's old friend Inara, with whom he underwent his Companion training.
Characters: Dean, Sam, Inara, Mal, Kaylee.
Rating: PG-13
wordcount: 1,332
Warnings: Unrequited (so far) Dean/Sam. Implied Dean/Kaylee, if you tilt your head the right way.
Neurotic Author's Note #1: So![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kinkthattwinked gave me a prompt that sort of got away with me at my last post on the topic. Oops? I actually had this plot bunny living at the back of my head, and someday it will become a real story. For the moment, this is just me playing with the characters and seeing if I can do it. I've never written Firefly, after all.
Neurotic Author's Note #2: This is unbeta'd, just written in a hurry and tossed out there in order to see what happens.
Neurotic Author's Note #3: The title is actually a quote from the episode "Heart of Gold," from Firefly.
“I still don’t think this is a good idea, Sammy.”
Sam rolls his eyes, but he fidgets with the cufflinks on his shirt. He’s wearing his best silk shirt, Dean noticed, the smoky purple one that makes his eyes look impossibly dark. He’s done something to his eyes, too, maybe more Kohl than usual or something, it’s not like Dean is an expert, but it looks good on him. Not as good as the pants that leave very little to the imagination, but since they’re part of the deal Dean isn’t complaining today.
“Don’t be like that. I’ve known Inara forever, and if she says this guy is trustworthy, then he’s trustworthy. And it’s Sam, especially in front of potential clients.”
The cargo bay door is already swinging open, so there isn’t time to (yet again) argue with Sam about the sheer idiocy of going aboard a ship (granted, the most gorgeous Firefly-class ship Dean has had the pleasure of seeing in a very long time--they don’t make ‘em like this anymore) with people they don’t know and with only him for back-up. It won’t make a difference that Sammy trained with this woman if the people she’s hanging out with turn out to be traitorous cutthroats, after all.
He smacks Sam’s hand lightly. “Stop fussing with your cuffs, you’ll wreck your shirt. You nervous?”
“No!” Sam protests, a little too loudly. He drops his hands to his side, and Dean sees his fingers twitch. “It’s just--it’s Inara, you know? She’s a legend. It’s--it’s weird, seeing her like this, like--like we’re equals or something.”
Dean smacks him on the shoulder, harder this time. “Shut up. You are equals. You got the same training, everyone loves you,” he insists, and is so proud of the fact that his voice doesn’t shake and his breath doesn’t hitch even once as he says it.
The cargo bay is sitting wide open now, and Dean takes the lead walking in, Sam close behind his left shoulder, careful to keep clear in case Dean needs to draw his weapon. He’s pretty sure Sam doesn’t even realise he’s doing it anymore--they’ve been doing this for so many years, now, that it’s second nature to them, as instinctive as breathing.
Dean finds himself staring into the eyes of the man he assumes must be the captain Sam told him about. It takes a certain amount of gumption to openly wear a brown coat like that these days, after all. He’s watching them come up, eyes resting on Dean but registering Sam all the same, and his expression doesn’t appear all that welcoming. Dean notes the gun in his holster, the thumbs casually hooked through his belt loops, and nods slightly, acknowledging both the threat and the lack thereof. No one is shooting anybody today, if we can help it, is the clear message, and Dean is just fine with that. There are others gathered nearby--a big guy who has to be security, a couple of girls standing shoulder to shoulder on the catwalk above, giggling softly at some private joke. This can’t be the whole crew, Dean knows, but then, he wasn’t exactly expecting a full welcoming committee.
The captain nods once as they approach. “Morning. I’m Mal, Captain of Serenity, here. You’re here for Inara, I’m guessing?”
Sam speaks up, his voice gone soft, the way it always does. He never uses this tone with Dean, would never dare to (Would never want to, another traitorous little voice pipes up in Dean’s mind before he can banish it). It’s the voice he uses for clients, the one that tells them that he’s only got eyes for them, that they’re the most special thing in the universe, and Dean has to bite down hard on his own tongue in order not to shiver.
“She did say she was expecting us?”
A moment later a vision in saffron and red appears behind Mal and deftly pushes him aside without ever seeming to touch him. She holds out both hands in front of her, palms down, expectant.
“Sam, it’s wonderful to see you again. I’m so glad you were able to make it,” she says as Sam moves forward to take both her hands and plant a very chaste kiss on her cheek. “And this must be Dean. I’ve heard so much about you, but I can see now that even his glowing reviews failed to do you justice.” She smiles at him, and Dean is pretty sure he’s about to melt into the floor.
Gorram Companions.
He clears his throat. “Uh, so, um, right. Okay, then. I’ll just…” he takes a step back, and blushes a little when sees the captain smirking at him. “I’ll let you two catch up. I, uh, I’m sure you’ve got lots to… catch up on.”
The captain chuckles softly. “For a second I thought it might be the two of you, and I gotta say, I was confused. Never figured you for more than one client at a time, Inara.”
Dean rounds on him, and this time the heat in his cheeks has nothing to do with embarrassment. “Excuse me?”
Inara breaks in smoothly. “Sam is an old friend--and a colleague, Mal. So you can take any comments about my whoring and stow them for the day,” she adds sharply.
“Whoring??”
“Dean, don’t.”
Sam puts a hand on Dean’s arm, his fingers barely brushing his bicep, but it’s enough to keep Dean from breaking this smug son of a bitch’s face with his fist. Mal actually looks a little surprised, like he doesn’t have the faintest idea about the amount of work that Companions have to do in order to be what they are. Maybe he doesn’t--he wouldn’t be the first ignorant ass to assume that this is just glorified sex work. Sam is a lot more tolerant of this sort of bullcrap than Dean is--way too tolerant, if you ask Dean, but then, it’s not his call to make. If Sam doesn’t want him teaching this guy a lesson, then the lesson will wait for another day.
Mal clears his throat. “Look, Dean is it? I think we got off on the wrong foot. I got a case of the good stuff in my quarters. What say I bring out a bottle, introduce you to the crew, and we can try again?”
Dean isn’t feeling particularly inclined to doling out second chances, but Sam is looking at him with those big dark eyes and, well, Dean isn’t exactly made of stone, here. So he squares his shoulders, takes a breath, and nods.
“We’ll be in my shuttle,” Inara murmurs, and expertly steers Sam away, leaving Dean alone with the Grade-A tool.
“Never mind Mal,” one of the girls calls down from where she’s leaning over the railing above their heads. She’s a cute little thing, strawberry blonde and dressed in overalls with a smudge that looks like oil on her nose. Her eyes are sparkling as though at some private joke. The other girl is nowhere to be seen, though Dean doesn’t recall seeing her leave. “He doesn’t deserve our attention if he’s being mean to Inara. You want a tour?”
Dean gives Mal one last nod, then takes the stairs two at a time in order to shake the girl’s hand. “Name’s Dean. Nice to meet you.”
She mimics a curtsy in her overalls. Her hand is tiny in his, but her grip is firmer than he would have given her credit for. “Kaylee, and the pleasure’s mine. Tell me, Dean, do you like engines?”
“As it happens, I really do,” he grins at her.
Her smile is blinding. “Shiny. Come with me, then, and I’ll give you your own, uh, private tour of the facilities.”
As things go, Dean can think of far worse ways to kill the time until he and Sam can go home again.
Summary: Firefly crossover/fusion-type thing. Dean accompanies his brother to visit Sam's old friend Inara, with whom he underwent his Companion training.
Characters: Dean, Sam, Inara, Mal, Kaylee.
Rating: PG-13
wordcount: 1,332
Warnings: Unrequited (so far) Dean/Sam. Implied Dean/Kaylee, if you tilt your head the right way.
Neurotic Author's Note #1: So
kinkthattwinked gave me a prompt that sort of got away with me at my last post on the topic. Oops? I actually had this plot bunny living at the back of my head, and someday it will become a real story. For the moment, this is just me playing with the characters and seeing if I can do it. I've never written Firefly, after all.Neurotic Author's Note #2: This is unbeta'd, just written in a hurry and tossed out there in order to see what happens.
Neurotic Author's Note #3: The title is actually a quote from the episode "Heart of Gold," from Firefly.
“I still don’t think this is a good idea, Sammy.”
Sam rolls his eyes, but he fidgets with the cufflinks on his shirt. He’s wearing his best silk shirt, Dean noticed, the smoky purple one that makes his eyes look impossibly dark. He’s done something to his eyes, too, maybe more Kohl than usual or something, it’s not like Dean is an expert, but it looks good on him. Not as good as the pants that leave very little to the imagination, but since they’re part of the deal Dean isn’t complaining today.
“Don’t be like that. I’ve known Inara forever, and if she says this guy is trustworthy, then he’s trustworthy. And it’s Sam, especially in front of potential clients.”
The cargo bay door is already swinging open, so there isn’t time to (yet again) argue with Sam about the sheer idiocy of going aboard a ship (granted, the most gorgeous Firefly-class ship Dean has had the pleasure of seeing in a very long time--they don’t make ‘em like this anymore) with people they don’t know and with only him for back-up. It won’t make a difference that Sammy trained with this woman if the people she’s hanging out with turn out to be traitorous cutthroats, after all.
He smacks Sam’s hand lightly. “Stop fussing with your cuffs, you’ll wreck your shirt. You nervous?”
“No!” Sam protests, a little too loudly. He drops his hands to his side, and Dean sees his fingers twitch. “It’s just--it’s Inara, you know? She’s a legend. It’s--it’s weird, seeing her like this, like--like we’re equals or something.”
Dean smacks him on the shoulder, harder this time. “Shut up. You are equals. You got the same training, everyone loves you,” he insists, and is so proud of the fact that his voice doesn’t shake and his breath doesn’t hitch even once as he says it.
The cargo bay is sitting wide open now, and Dean takes the lead walking in, Sam close behind his left shoulder, careful to keep clear in case Dean needs to draw his weapon. He’s pretty sure Sam doesn’t even realise he’s doing it anymore--they’ve been doing this for so many years, now, that it’s second nature to them, as instinctive as breathing.
Dean finds himself staring into the eyes of the man he assumes must be the captain Sam told him about. It takes a certain amount of gumption to openly wear a brown coat like that these days, after all. He’s watching them come up, eyes resting on Dean but registering Sam all the same, and his expression doesn’t appear all that welcoming. Dean notes the gun in his holster, the thumbs casually hooked through his belt loops, and nods slightly, acknowledging both the threat and the lack thereof. No one is shooting anybody today, if we can help it, is the clear message, and Dean is just fine with that. There are others gathered nearby--a big guy who has to be security, a couple of girls standing shoulder to shoulder on the catwalk above, giggling softly at some private joke. This can’t be the whole crew, Dean knows, but then, he wasn’t exactly expecting a full welcoming committee.
The captain nods once as they approach. “Morning. I’m Mal, Captain of Serenity, here. You’re here for Inara, I’m guessing?”
Sam speaks up, his voice gone soft, the way it always does. He never uses this tone with Dean, would never dare to (Would never want to, another traitorous little voice pipes up in Dean’s mind before he can banish it). It’s the voice he uses for clients, the one that tells them that he’s only got eyes for them, that they’re the most special thing in the universe, and Dean has to bite down hard on his own tongue in order not to shiver.
“She did say she was expecting us?”
A moment later a vision in saffron and red appears behind Mal and deftly pushes him aside without ever seeming to touch him. She holds out both hands in front of her, palms down, expectant.
“Sam, it’s wonderful to see you again. I’m so glad you were able to make it,” she says as Sam moves forward to take both her hands and plant a very chaste kiss on her cheek. “And this must be Dean. I’ve heard so much about you, but I can see now that even his glowing reviews failed to do you justice.” She smiles at him, and Dean is pretty sure he’s about to melt into the floor.
Gorram Companions.
He clears his throat. “Uh, so, um, right. Okay, then. I’ll just…” he takes a step back, and blushes a little when sees the captain smirking at him. “I’ll let you two catch up. I, uh, I’m sure you’ve got lots to… catch up on.”
The captain chuckles softly. “For a second I thought it might be the two of you, and I gotta say, I was confused. Never figured you for more than one client at a time, Inara.”
Dean rounds on him, and this time the heat in his cheeks has nothing to do with embarrassment. “Excuse me?”
Inara breaks in smoothly. “Sam is an old friend--and a colleague, Mal. So you can take any comments about my whoring and stow them for the day,” she adds sharply.
“Whoring??”
“Dean, don’t.”
Sam puts a hand on Dean’s arm, his fingers barely brushing his bicep, but it’s enough to keep Dean from breaking this smug son of a bitch’s face with his fist. Mal actually looks a little surprised, like he doesn’t have the faintest idea about the amount of work that Companions have to do in order to be what they are. Maybe he doesn’t--he wouldn’t be the first ignorant ass to assume that this is just glorified sex work. Sam is a lot more tolerant of this sort of bullcrap than Dean is--way too tolerant, if you ask Dean, but then, it’s not his call to make. If Sam doesn’t want him teaching this guy a lesson, then the lesson will wait for another day.
Mal clears his throat. “Look, Dean is it? I think we got off on the wrong foot. I got a case of the good stuff in my quarters. What say I bring out a bottle, introduce you to the crew, and we can try again?”
Dean isn’t feeling particularly inclined to doling out second chances, but Sam is looking at him with those big dark eyes and, well, Dean isn’t exactly made of stone, here. So he squares his shoulders, takes a breath, and nods.
“We’ll be in my shuttle,” Inara murmurs, and expertly steers Sam away, leaving Dean alone with the Grade-A tool.
“Never mind Mal,” one of the girls calls down from where she’s leaning over the railing above their heads. She’s a cute little thing, strawberry blonde and dressed in overalls with a smudge that looks like oil on her nose. Her eyes are sparkling as though at some private joke. The other girl is nowhere to be seen, though Dean doesn’t recall seeing her leave. “He doesn’t deserve our attention if he’s being mean to Inara. You want a tour?”
Dean gives Mal one last nod, then takes the stairs two at a time in order to shake the girl’s hand. “Name’s Dean. Nice to meet you.”
She mimics a curtsy in her overalls. Her hand is tiny in his, but her grip is firmer than he would have given her credit for. “Kaylee, and the pleasure’s mine. Tell me, Dean, do you like engines?”
“As it happens, I really do,” he grins at her.
Her smile is blinding. “Shiny. Come with me, then, and I’ll give you your own, uh, private tour of the facilities.”
As things go, Dean can think of far worse ways to kill the time until he and Sam can go home again.