Zoë stood in the cargo bay, tapping her foot impatiently, looking around to check if anything was out of place. She needed a drink – being planet-side for a bit was a nice break, but for 4 days? What were they supposed to do?
"Hey there, Zo! Ready to get going?"
Zoë turned to Mal and cocked her hip, crossing her arms.
"Ready to walk head-first into a to-be bar fight? Always."
"Shiny! So now all we gotta do is wait up for Wash and we'll be out in a jiffy."
Zoë's eyes widened and froze at the mention of the pilot's name. The two had been cracking jokes at each other since they got here, but there was still a veil of uncomfortable tension between them. Zoë hadn't liked him for a good while until now, and Wash knew it well enough. That was hard to just get rid of.
"Look," Mal started, being able to read her expression well enough, "I know you two hadn't gotten along for a bit until recently, so let's clear the air! No better way to do that than to get drunk and hit on women together!"
"Thanks, Sir. You are very thoughtful. But I prefer hittin' on men."
"You know what, so do I. Hittin' women isn't classy."
Zoë chuckled, finally feeling a bit less tense when she heard footsteps entering the cargo bay.

Mal and Zoë both let out an involuntary gasp of surprise when Wash entered the room, clad in baggy, light brown cargo pants, a deep blue, flowered shirt, and a clean face.
"… what?" Wash demanded, looking himself up and down, not finding anything unusual.
"I should invite you out to drinks more often, pilot!" Mal exclaimed, wrapping an arm around Wash.
"I agree, Captain. The invitation seems to have done well for the man!" Zoë chimed in, smiling at the pilot.
"Oh come on, it wasn't that bad!" Wash retorted, running his hand over his clean-shaven face.
"Oh, it was!" Both Zoë and Mal replied in unison, before the three trekked off toward a small, downtrodden bar.


"Look, all I'm sayin', is you're a cold-stone bitch!" Mal slurred, pointing at Zoë over a dirty table, who was staring at him, a defensive but amused smile on her face.
"I am not." She retorted, smiling as she took a sip of her drink. "I'm just… private."
Wash snorted. "That's one word for it!"
Zoë cast her usual one-raised-eyebrow glance at Wash, who just shrugged his shoulders as his face disappeared behind his drinking mug.
"I mean, I'm not sayin' it's a bad thing! You're my best first mate!"
"I'm your only first mate." Zoë corrected Mal.
"Look, my point is, you gotta loosen up a little! Get drunk! Why don't you ever get drunk?"
"I don't drink much." Zoë responded maturely, smiling.
"Or you have a freakishly high tolerance!" Wash piped in, raising his mug to her. Zoë lowered her eyes and laughed, letting the two tipsy men enjoy their fun.
"Now Wash, we should scope out the women. The maaaany fine women!" Mal slurred, wrapping an arm around Wash's shoulders. But when Zoë turned to see Wash's reaction, she saw him looking right at her.
Both of them shot their eyes in opposite directions, but Wash recovered quickly, laughing with Mal.
"Oh yes, let us scope out these lovely women! Oh, what about – no, that's a man. Or maybe – no, that's another man."
"Don't encourage him, pilot. He'd be just as happy to find a man to hit." Zoë warned, casting a sidelong glance at Mal, hoping he didn't get them into any trouble. But he just perked his head up and smirked innocently.
"Now, why would I do that, Zoë? These are mighty fine men. AREN'T YOU ALL MIGHTY FINE MEN!" Mal yelled, raising his glass to a chorus of "Hoorahs!" from around the pub.
As the three laughed amongst themselves, Mal noticed a woman walk through the door, clad in a thin brown dress, with long black hair.
"Well, I have scoped! I'll holler if there's another!"
And with that he strode off (swaying his hips a little), leaving Zoë and Wash behind him, leaning over in their seats with laughter.

"Oh God, does this always happen?" Wash asked, and Zoë just shook her head in mock disgust.
"Always."
Wash propped his head on his hand, leaning his elbow on the table. "Well I'd vote for this any day! Not in the mood for punches."
"No? Are you having a fine time, pilot?" Zoë asked, taking a deep sip from her mug.
Wash looked at her with a wide, full-toothed smile, which dropped into a small grin, and he looked at her with caring eyes. Zoë looked back at him when he didn't respond, and he held her gaze like that for a few moments before Mal stumbled over, leaning on the table for support.
"Zo! Wash! Don't miss out on the fun! C'mon, let's get a dance going!"
"It's a bar, Captain." Zoë replied, matter-of-factly.
"So? We can dance in bars! C'mon!"
But as he pranced away, Zoë and Wash stayed sitting, smirking happily.

The two sat in silence without awkwardness, and finished their drinks. Once he had drained his mug, Wash took a deep breath and turned to look at Zoë, who was resting her chin on intertwined fingers.
"Do you dance?"
Zoë looked over at him, her eyes wide, a casual smile still on her lips. Wash just tightened his, looking at her hopefully, and decided to imitate a dancing motion. Zoë smiled before pushing her chair back and slowly getting to her feet. Wash's look of utter surprise almost made her burst into hysterical laughter, and just as he scrambled off of his chair, she joined hands with a dancer passing by and joined the crowd, now fully laughing at Wash's stunned face as he stood alone at the table.

Not one to dwell on it, Wash laughed and started clapping for the dancers, but refused any woman's offer to join in. Little did he know, Zoë had caught up to Mal fairly quickly, whispered that she was going to head back to the ship, and slipped out of the dance just as it got to the back door.

As she was walking back to the ship that was slowly becoming home, she pondered on the events of the night. The awkward tension was gone, but something else was there. Something that held that feeling of anxiety in the pit of her stomach. When he looked at her with those big, blue eyes, she felt that same thing she felt when she first met him, but without unmerited hatred, or a lip-ferret, to cover it up.