A/N- My little headcanon AU where Wash and Zoe meet at a Contradance. Also a bit inspired by the dance scene in Episode 4. I really love Firefly and this couple!
It was dark outside and there was a cold breeze blowing strong, but the large fair tent did well to block it. There were lanterns hanging from ropes and they cast a homely, safe glow that was mirrored by the comfy, friendly sanded wooden boards that made up an impromptu floor. The stage, just large enough for the fiddle-and-cello toting band, stood at one end of the rectangle tent and the rest, about sixty feet of boards, spread out.
The floor was deserted. No, the crowd was all clustered in the dark, just outside the tent in warm, farmish knitted clothing. There were about thirty or so of them, and, all at once, they began to step out. Upon seeing their neighbors go, they decided it was no longer taboo and joined the people now streaming onto the wooden boards.
No one knew each other. Well, perhaps there were one or two friends, but it wasn't a get-together. Everyone was gathered here because of a shared interest. Everyone was gathered here to dance.
It wasn't the type of dancing one would normally see, and some people never get to see it at all. It had Gaelic and Celtic roots and the music also belonged to those origins.
Slowly, the music began and people started to fall into formation. The dance that was silently decided upon required rows, so rows they formed, gentlemen on the left, ladies on the right. Some people were octogenarians and some were barely five, but they all participated, swinging to the left, to the right, skipping and bouncing in time with the music.
The music frolicked up and down, the drum keeping a fast beat. The tune fell into a minor key, and everyone continued to dance, their joy shining clearly through the wrinkles around their eyes and the smiles on their faces. For this was something that had been denied by the Alliance for years yet it was a solid part of the traditions around here.
Among the dancers was someone whom this story somewhat focuses on. He's young, barely twenty, and his blonde hair sticks up, unruly, from his forehead. His knitted pullover sweater sleeves are pushed up to the elbow, and his brown cargo pants are stained with dirt and clay. Freckles dot his pale face, but one can't see them unless they look up close. His name is Hoban Washburne.
Hoban stepped to and fro and the music sped up. People wove through one another, getting a new partner every thirty seconds or so. Hoban spun the redhead girl who'd been his partner along on her way and joined hands with the next person.
This particular girl, this next person, was tall, within two inches of Hoban's own height. She had smooth coffee colored skin and her hair flew out behind her, bouncing with every step she took, in raven kinks. She smiled. Her name was Zoe. "Nice night for dancing, huh?" she called over the music.
"Yeah," Hoban replied. This sort of talk was the type usually exchanged in the short amount of time you had with each partner.
Someone, another dancer, a girl about ten, bumped into Zoe.
"It's a bit crowded, though," Hoban amended.
Zoe laughed. Her whole face changed, her cheeks lifting and her eyes sparkling. Her skin even seemed to adopt extra glow. Then, instead of letting Hoban spin her, she spun him. It worked, because of how tall she was and her strength.
Before Hoban knew it, the whole floor was a blur. The band, dancers, and lanterns disappeared into the whirl of warm light. When he stopped spinning, Zoe was gone and he had a new partner. The little girl. "Hi," he greeted, still a bit dizzy.
"Hi!" she piped up. "Sorry for bumping into you guys."
"Aw, it's fine," Hoban said with a smile. He picked her up and spun her around.
Another thing about this particular type of dancing and this particular crowd of people was that they'd probably never met before and they might never meet again, but enveloped by the music and the glow of the lanterns and the warm September breeze, they were all one big family.
And slowly, the night crept onwards. No one tiring.
A dance had just finished, and Hoban was chatting with the little girl again. He loved meeting small children, it just made him feel happy.
Zoe strode over. "Your face is bright pink."
Hoban looked up. "Uh, yeah. Dancing does that sometimes. To me."
The girl scampered off, finding some other half-size playmates.
"You're kinda tall," Hoban said, smiling.
Zoe's eyes widened sarcastically. "No kidding." She started laughing again. "I'm Zoe, by the way."
"I'm Hoban. Hoban Washburne."
This was where their conversation stepped out of Contradance norms. Names were hardly ever exchanged.
"Shiny," Zoe said with a smile, and started off towards the middle of the floor, where couples were beginning to form lines.
Hoban stood, unmoving. He thought about everything, which was a lot.
"Wash!" A voice called.
Hoban wondered what they were going on about. Washing what?
"Wash!" Zoe repeated, grabbing Hoban's hand and yanking him out to where she'd been waiting. "Aren't you going to dance?"
"Uh, sure," Hoban said. "What's wash?"
Zoe grinned. "You. You know, Hoban sounds weird, Washburne sounds formal, so Wash. It fits."
"Okay," Hoban - Wash - said. "Shiny."
The music started, and off they went. Halfway through, Wash realized he was dancing the girl part, but he didn't really care. He didn't really care about anything right now. Except for Zoe. And, he realized, if she would let him, he would care about her for the rest of his life.