Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, but then, I don't think anyone thought I did. They belong to Joss Whedon and his Merry Men, and I'm using them for entertainment, not profit.
Author's note: This challenge, number 37, required something seen in an unexpected light. I'm big on the Wash/Zoe, so this sprang to mind.
***
We never should have hired him.
"Dammit, Wash, pick up the pace! Those bastards are right on our tails!"
"I'm aware, thanks. But we're almost out of fuel; gotta wait for the right time to give her some speed if we don't want to end up floating."
The right time? I should have put my foot down. Serenity needs a real pilot. This ain't some game he plays with his yu bun duh dinosaurs when he thinks no one's looking. These are our gorram lives!
A plastic dinosaur fell to the bridge floor, bouncing off her foot. "'Scuse me, Rex."
Ain't even got the decency to apologize to me. Just the damn dinosaur.
"Could one of you check that screen right—eh, right there--and tell me the relative position coordinates for the next planet?"
Zoe moved towards the console, but the captain was closer and reached it first. "Eh, which is the--"
"Little green numbers. Top right-hand corner."
I knew from the first he was bad news. Stupid mustache, stupid shirt. Stupid leer. I should have told the captain right off, 'This guy gives me a bad feeling. He's unprofessional, he's got bad taste, and he enjoyed that search I gave him a little too much."
Oh, that's right. I did tell the captain.
"'Kay. You folks might want to hold on. I'm gonna make a pretty sharp turn, right about…now!"
The captain was knocked off his feet and fell right into her, and they both ended up in a pile on the floor. Wash pushed the control stick into the rest position and crossed his arms over his chest, looking very pleased with himself.
I'm gonna kill him.
"Not bad. Not bad, if I do say so myself."
Now how the hell did that help us?
"Wait just a gorram minute!" the captain said, picking himself up off of Zoe. "Don't you have somethin' you're supposed to be doing?"
"Like what?" Wash asked. He pointed to his screen. "The signals coming off that planet there ought to shield us from their radar. Plus, they're still following our fuel trail off that way."
I don't buy that go se—
"Huh. Will you look at that."
--Until the captain does.
"Good job." The captain gave Wash a clap on the shoulder—maybe a little harder than necessary, from the noise it made, but Wash didn't even wince—and strode out of the bridge, his mind already on the next emergency.
Zoe started to follow the captain, but she stopped at the door for a moment and turned to give Wash some terse, to-the-point warning not to be so cocky next time. The words died on her lips as she looked at him in the bridge's sparse yellow light. He was smiling; not the insinuating smirk he so often gave her, not the broad grin he followed his jokes with, just a satisfied smile for a job well done. It made him look simultaneously younger and more mature, made his face almost…handsome. For a moment Zoe forgot to breathe.
Well, he's still a clown. But maybe, as a pilot…he'll do all right. A spot of green plastic on the floor caught her eye, and she picked it up.
"Your dinosaur." She handed it to him, and a smile twitched across her lips before she could stop it. She turned and left before he could respond, her heart pounding.
He's just the pilot, she told herself. Just our sleazy, no-good, Hawaiian shirt-wearing pilot. Somehow, though, she didn't think she would be able to see him that way anymore.