Mal-Wash, kinda OOM.

[badinlatin]

Mal loves his flask.

A lot.

It's so pretty, all inscribed with random patterns - intricate ones - of dents and scrapes, scuff marks and chips. And reflecting under the scant light of the stable lamps, the discolored silver throws of interesting oil-slick patterns.

For such things are interesting when it's your second flask full. And there's a bottle by your side you haven't touched yet.

Mal is grouchy.

Comments

[badinlatin]

"Oh absolutely.

"I'll sell tickets, even. Buy you that shiny new leg."

[flybywash]

He cracks a smile. "Knew there was a reason I was flyin' with you."

Wash takes a moment to set down the glass and roll up his sleeves. There's a small snort.

"I tried being nice," he says. "And understanding, after the not-nice bit. I thought I was doin' fine."

[badinlatin]

Mal shakes his head.

"Don't think I ever had a shot to be nice even if I really 'ad wanted to - gun in the face thing and all, last time."

Mal clenches one fist and grimaces, his voice raising slightly. "And how I very much desire to wipe that fake-as-'ell yuben de grin off o' both their faces, when they thinkin' obviously things not too much with the nice 'bout folk."

[flybywash]

A loud groan. "Lăotiān Yé, yes. Least I was being honest when I was a bastard, right? I mean...ain't like I like 'em. Or trust 'em. I'd like to try and like 'em for Kaylee and River and Simon's sake, but if all they're gonna do is start yelling about me not knowing a damn thing when I just tried to explain that -- "

Wash makes a small noise of frustration and punctuates it with another gulp. His glass is nearly empty by now; he rattles it in Mal's direction. "Got any more?"

Getting drunk when the bar's this far away is such a bad idea. Strangely, Wash is starting to find that he doesn't care.

[badinlatin]

"Hell yes I do, gorramit."

Mal reaches around the other side of the cot and reveals the nondescript bottle of...something alcoholic.

"Not quite sure what it is at this point. Not carin' so much." Refilling Wash's glass, he continues with, "I know what ya mean, man - I thought he was 'bout 20 seconds from tellin' me how to run my own gorram life, dong ma?"

[flybywash]

"Uh-huh."

The pain in his leg's dulled a good bit already. Better take another sip to make sure it stays that way.

"What'd he say to you?"

[badinlatin]

A rankling laugh, and Mal tips his nose up in the air.

"Called me cong ming de 'n said I wa'n't aware o'...how'd he say it? Oh - 'I suspect you don't know the half of the truth that you evidently think you do.'"

[flybywash]

If Wash rolled his eyes any harder, they'd end up halfway across the stable floor.

"Yep." Affecting a snooty Core accent, "'They're my children, and you have no idea what lengths I'd go to to protect my family!' Méiyŏu mŭqin de xiao gŏu. Can't wait 'til we gotta put up with 'em for the wedding. Wandering around the ship...āiyā."

He gestures with his glass, a little too emphatically. "He even touches my stuff on the bridge and I'll clock 'im. I'll do it. I swear to God."

[badinlatin]

If only he picked up on the whole putting-up-with-parents-for-wedding thing. Tsk tsk, Mal.

Commencing with the handflailing, "And if he so much as tries to lecture me on the food in the gorram kitchen, I'ma snap. I'm gonna snap and get thisclose to his face."

Mal stands, gesticulating even more, empty flask in hand.

"Don't fuckin' tell me what to goddamn do! 'S my ship, gorramit!"

Sitting back down again, sure of himself.

"That'll show 'im."

[flybywash]

Wash nods, firmly, and raises his glass in acknowledgement.

"You're the cap'n." Gulp. "I can't boss you around, nobody can."

Pause. Scowl. "Bet he's one of those gorram ruttin' back-spaceship drivers, too. Be tryin' to land, and he'll be back there shoutin' out directions."

[badinlatin]

"I know, Wash! He'd be -- well, 'ere, he'd be like -- "

Mal puts down the empty flask finally and rests one wrist on Wash's left shoulder, making his fingers move like a hand puppet.

"Would ya look where ya goin'? Would ya turn? Would ya turn?"

[flybywash]

Wash swats Mal's hand away.

Or tries to. He comes perilously close to missing.

"And I'd -- 'You wanna fly this thing? I'll pull over this spaceship right now!'"

[badinlatin]

Mal's wrist resumes position, but on the opposite shoulder.

"Would you pull over? Pull over right now! Jesus Christ Almighty I'll --"

[flybywash]

More swatting ensues.

"Fine. Fine! You wanna fly?" Wash throws up both his arms, alcohol sloshing over the rim of his glass. "FUCKIN' FLY!"

Determined, as he takes another sip, "And then I'd get up an' go to my bunk. See what he does then."

[badinlatin]

Mal doesn't even notice the splashed liquor falling on his arm.

He leans back with a smug grin on his face.

"He wouldn't have one gorram clue, Wash. You show 'im."

[flybywash]

"Absolutely. 'S your ship. But. But my bridge. Yeah?"

Equally smug.

[badinlatin]

"Hell yes. I mean, I could fly 'er, but not near as well as you get that bird to listen to ya. Almost jealous, actually."

Drunken Reveal Number One.

[flybywash]

He shakes his head. "No no no, she ain't listenin' to me, I'm listenin' to her. 'S just...." More vague gestures. "Knowing. Feelin' it."

A sudden, bright grin, full of pride. "Even River can't hear her, y'know that?"

[badinlatin]

Mal has since picked up the bottle, drinking straight from it, faintly smiling.

"No I didn't, Wash. 'S nice."

[flybywash]

"Yeah. Yeah."

Wash turns a thoughtful look to the contents of his glass, sobering a little.

"Scared the guĭ outta me when I came back an' you said she was flyin'. Thought I was gonna lose my job."

[badinlatin]

Mal shakes his head quickly. "Sorry y'ever got the notion o' that from me, man. Weren't even somethin' I thought o'."

Cough.

"The first time I thought on replacin' ya was the day 'fore I came back into the bar. I couldn't be flyin' the boat all the time and neither could River.

"And when I knew you were alive, well - weren't no thoughts on it anymore."

[flybywash]

Wash looks up, eyes bright.

"'Cause 'm not leaving until Zoe does," he says, earnest. "And. And she's not gonna leave, either, s'long as you're there."

[badinlatin]

Mal smiles sincerely for the first time all night.

"Xiexie, Wash. That's...that's real nice o' you to say. Thanks."

Yup. New port extender.

[flybywash]

"Say it 'cause it's true."

Wash finishes off the rest of his current glass -- then tilts his head, suddenly, and pokes his right leg a few times.

"Hey." It sounds like he's just had a grand epiphany. "My leg's not hurting."

[badinlatin]

With one finger pointing out the next great epiphany, "This could be because o' the booze."

Yes.

[flybywash]

"...Hey, yeah."

He examines his empty glass.

Solemn, taking care to enunciate, "This was a good idea. You have lots've good ideas. Thanks."

[badinlatin]

"Damn straight I do."

Pause. He may not be as inebriated as Wash, but he's close.

"I'll think o' examples once I...y'know, think."

[flybywash]

He nods, several times. "Thinking's good too."

With deliberate care, he puts down his glass.

[badinlatin]

Mal rolls his eyes at the assertion.

"Not really. But necessary. Like, um...

"We gonna be able to get back to the bar? 'S gorram cold."

[flybywash]

Wash shudders. "I don't wanna." Then, resigned, after he mulls it over for a few more seconds, "Zoe'll get worried. But."

A mournful look at the crutches.

"'M drunk."

[badinlatin]

"Yup. Me too. Ain't near you yet though, so we should be alright with it."

Mal stands. A bit wobbly, but he stands.

"Can you get up?"

[flybywash]

"You were drinking b'fore I even came in," he protests.

But he plants both hands on the cot, sets his good foot firmly, and hefts himself up.

Frantic flailing to grab Mal's shoulder soon follows. He has enough trouble balancing properly without his crutches when he's stone-cold sober.

[badinlatin]

Mal attempts bracing himself to keep Wash vertical, but both Wash and Mal end up sitting back down on the cot.

"Well. That didn't work."

[flybywash]

"Crutches," Wash decides. "'S why I've got 'em."

He makes a grab for them.

The next attempt to stand goes...about the same, but this time, Wash manages to splay the crutches wide enough apart to keep himself upright.

"There!"

He looks far too proud of himself right now.

[badinlatin]

Mal stands a bit easier as well, once Wash is upright.

He leaves the bottle, now down to its dregs, sitting next to the cot.

"Off we go, then."

[flybywash]

And you don't want to know how long it takes them to get back to the bar like this.

Really.

It's not like they're going to know how long it took in this state, either.