Just Following Orders
Rated: PG
Category: Gen, Double Drabble, Young Mal Story.
Spoilers: None.
Summary: Mal Started Out A Good Little Soldier. And Where Did He Learn To Dance, Anyway?
Note: submitted for ff_friday's prompt of 'Dancing', but written because of an idea that popped up while reading katinka31's story, 'Steps of the Dance'.
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Malcolm Reynolds was bored.
In fact, bored was the understatement of the century in his mind. He was so far beyond mere boredom that he thought he could only faintly remember a time when his life held any intrigue at all.
He stared off into space and imagined himself somewhere else.
He settled on a mental image of a mountain cabin, complete with lightly falling snow, and a dreamy smile spread across his lips. The grin lasted only a minute.
Suddenly, a slap hard enough to get Mal's full attention landed on the back of his head, and Mal's vision vanished. His frosty cabin was replaced by the sweltering heat of Mrs. Thompson's barn. Instead of snow, insects swarmed around lights hung on wires from the rafters, and a voice Mal would've known anywhere sliced the night.
"Malcolm Reynolds! You do as I told you or I swear I'll skin you alive!"
Mal didn't dare to even look at the speaker, lest she make good on her threat.
He stood, straightened his most hated cravat, and danced with Susan Crofton.
Just like he'd been taught.
Just like he'd practiced, against his will, over and over.
Just like his mama ordered.