She guessed the pilot was drunk before she’d reached the galley. He told her that one, strange day he’d serenaded her on Asteron’s moon that he only sang when he was drunk, and he’d proved it the few times she’d seen him three-sheets out. Still, he had a deep, rich tenor voice, and it made her push down the quavery, butterfly feeling that secretly lusted after those serenades. He probably wouldn’t do it though – she’d decked him on Asteron after all. So maybe she had overreacted, but his singing scared her, and she didn’t like being scared so she hit him. That damn pilot coddled his black eye for weeks and grinned at her every chance he had. And that just made her madder. The man shouldn’t moon over her like that. Didn’t make sense.

But despite the rippling, hidden feelings in her bones over his velvet voice, she had to quiet him now. Standard time was near midnight and his mournful, sad song was what woke her. It was getting louder and soon it’d be enough to wake Kaylee and the cap’n, if he kept at it. So instead she grabbed her robe and drifted down to make sure he kept all his singing privately done.

A smile ghosted her lips when she slid back the galley doors. Instead of stopping when he saw her, he held his arms wide and belted out a new serenade:

“If o-o-only in my dre-e-ams…”

She stuffed down a giggle. “You know you’re gonna wake the dead with all that singin’, pilot,” she said, approaching him. He was grinning like a loon, and she shook her head at the jug on the table – Kaylee’s homemade brew. Gorram lethal, on some planets.

She went to the cabinets, grabbed a cup, and joined him. “Or worse, you’ll wake the Cap’n.”

Wash snorted drunkenly and gulped whatever remained in his mug. “Zoë, Zoë. I ain’t worried, y’know. Know why I ain’t worried?”

“Nope. Why ain’t you worried?”

“’Cause there’s a beautiful girl in the galley, tomorrow’s Christmas Eve and there’s not a humpin’ gorram thing I can do about it. That’s why.”

Zoë did a double take, noticing something she hadn’t before in the dim light. “And you shaved off your lip ferret.”

“And gorrammit, I shaved off my gorram lip ferret. Give the lady a hundred credits for noticing.” He reached for the bottle but Zoë beat him to it, and filled her mug as she sat beside him.

“Darn.”

“You’ll have to be quicker’n that. ‘Sides, you’ve probably had enough.”

“Naw. Time to celebrate. I like celebratin’. Do you like celebratin’?”

“When it’s appropriate, I guess.”

His eyes were red from drink but there was something else there, too. Something sweetly sad in those huge blue eyes that sent her butterflies a-flying. Damn, she had it bad and she didn’t need to be going down that road. Had too much to do.

“Oh, it’s plenty ‘propriate,” he muttered. “Appropriate enough, I figure, it bein’ near Christmas and all.” He motioned to her to slide the bottle over, and her eyebrow bobbled as she handed it over.

“You’re gonna have a helluva hangover tomorrow, pilot. We got lots to do the next few days. Sure you’ll be up to it?”

“No problem.” He filled his mug and saluted her with it. “’Sides, I need to make a toast to the most beautiful girl in the room.”

“The only girl,” she said simply, clunking her mug against his.

“Beside the point.” He took a deep draught and Zoë grimaced when she tasted hers. Kaylee outdid herself on strength this time.

“Stuff’s strong enough to strip the engines.”

“Yep. Strong enough to strip a man’s heart, too,” Wash said quietly. His face turned a little sadder, and Zoë’s brow furrowed realizing she didn’t like seeing that sadness on his face. There was enough sadness inside her for both of them and on the pilot it was downright unnatural.

“What’s that song you were singin’?”

“What? Oh, that.” He snorted darkly. “Somethin’ from Earth-that-was. Somethin’ my pa used to sing on Christmas, before he went to workin’ in the factory. He made extra money on holidays, see, but the work was twice’s dangerous.” Wash gulped from his mug and made a face. “Everyone else was home, with their families. Meant a smaller shift at the factory, but you still had to get all the work done, every gorram day. Had to have it ready despite the holidays. And he always volunteered. Always hadda volunteer, so the others could get their happy holidays in.”

She frowned, imagining what might have happened. “So he got killed, did he?”

“Yep. Big ol’ nasty industrial accident. Wasn’t like we had any of those fancy-pantsy core robots, so we had to make due with what we did have. Letter said he got cut in two with a steel girder. Kinda gruesome.” He drained his mug. “Happy Christmas, kids! Dad’s dead! Yippee!”

Zoë put a hand over his, stilling his dark thoughts. Wash’s eyes widened slightly, knowing that neither of them had touched before – neither had been so intimate before – but it felt right in more ways than one.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well. Go se happens, right?” He smirked through a hiccup and stood, grabbing the table as he did so. “Whoa. Wow. Definitely got that spinnin’ thing down, though.”

“Need help?”

“Nope.” He stumbled over a chair on his way to the sink and used it for leverage as he rinsed out his mug. “Just brings back delightful flight school memories. Least of which was me gettin’ sick an’ tossing whatever was left of my stomach into a disposal. This’s nothin’ compared to that.”

Zoë stood and met him at the sink. She crossed her arms and smiled, and didn’t mind the clumsy way his eyes followed the curve of her breasts beneath her robe. “Still. I’d think twice ‘bout doin’ any more serious tastin’ of Kaylee’s homebrew. It’s liable to cure what ails ya by makin’ you blind.”

Wash laughed. “Yeah. I’ll be feelin’ my hair grow in a few.”

“Mm. Of which…” She wasn’t sure why she did it, but she smoothed the now-empty space above his lip with her forefinger. Maybe it was because he was too drunk or too stunned, but Wash didn’t respond to her finger except to stare at her with those soulful, sorrowful eyes. She dropped her hand and a sudden heat crept to her cheeks. “Just wonderin’ why you shaved it off, is all.”

“Ah.” He sighed and leaned against the sink. “Well, there’s a quick answer to’t. Looked in the mirror today and said, ‘by golly, that man in there looks like Hoban Washburn Senior.’ Scared the ever livin’ snot outta me.”

“Especially it bein’ near Christmas.”

“Especially so. Didn’t wanna repeat history, I guess.”

“You won’t. I won’t let it happen.”

A seriousness, nearly as foreign as the sadness, crossed his brow and he took her hand. She marveled at the smoothness of his palms - smoother than hers. His only calluses were in the grips of his hands, where he grabbed Serenity’s yoke too tightly. “Maybe. I’m too drunk to argue the point. Ain’t like…” He sighed. “Hump this tiptoein’ go se. Tell me I’m wrong, Zoë. Tell me there’s nothin’ between us, an’ I’ll quit tryin’.”

She swallowed and continued staring at his hands, and rubbed a thumb over them. “Not one for lyin’, pilot.”

“Then don’t.”

“Not sure what I feel, at the moment.”

“So tell me what you do feel. I’m sorta thinkin’ I won’t remember what you say, after a few days’ worth of soberin’ up sleep.”

“Kinda defeats the purpose of sayin’ it, if you can’t remember.”

“Maybe.” He cleared his throat. “But d’you think I could get a kiss without you blacking both my eyes?”

“Can’t promise nothin’.”

“That’s not a ‘no.’”

She remained silent, but within seconds, she felt his breath nearing her lips – a combination of alcohol, sweat, and shaving cream – and her knees nearly buckled from the headiness of it. She felt drunk her ownself as he paused in front of her. More so when he gently tasted her full lips.

“So you didn’t deck me,” he whispered into her lips.

“Nope.”

He kissed her again – more deeply this time, and she didn’t fight him. When the heat traveled down to her toes, she broke it off before she lost herself. “This gonna be a regular thing, pilot? You gettin’ drunk, an’ then you decidin’ to kiss me?”

His eyes inventoried every inch of her face, as if she’d disappear like a mirage and he’d never see her again. “Hopefully not. I’d rather be sober next time. Really, really, really sober.”

Zoë rubbed her thumb across his knuckles and smoothed the emptiness of his lip with her other hand. “You sing me a song sober, an’ we’ll see. But I’m thinkin’ the Captain’ll skin you right and proper if you ain’t fit to fly through that asteroid belt tomorrow, dong ma?”

“Prolly so.”

“So.” She helped him to his feet, and he swayed enough that she justified pulling him into her hip, to steady him. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and she barely succeeded from feeling all moon-eyed over his touch. “Let’s stop this gettin’ drunk an’ sad song business, afore it gets too painful.”

“F’r me or you?”

“Ain’t gonna say.”

Wash played with a curl in her hair. “Fair ‘nough. I’ll remember, though.”

“Shen me?”

“Remember,” he muttered as they went up the steps. He pulled away and leaned against the wall, forcing her to look into his eyes. “I won’t forget tonight.”

“We’ll see,” was all she said, smirking back at him. He looked like he might kiss her again and she wanted him to, but it wouldn’t do either of them any good if it didn’t mean squat. Before he got too close, she nodded at the hall. “Think you’re good to go back on your own while I clean up in here?”

“Wouldn’t mind some company,” he hinted, waggling his brows.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t, pilot.” She reluctantly went back down the steps and left his eyes to linger on her backside. She grabbed the jug off the table along with her own cup and began putting them back in their proper places. “But I ain’t into regrettin’ somethin’ neither of us can finish. So you be on your merry, and we’ll see each other later on. An’ I’ll make sure there’s plenty aspirins on hand when the Captain starts in on the yellin’ of why his pilot’s sleepin’ late.”

Wash snickered and weaved his way up the remaining stairs. “Won’t be any regrets, far as I can see. Gonna make you regret thinkin’ I’d forget, though.”

She waited until the door closed behind him before letting out the small breath she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying. “Lookin’ forward to it, pilot. Lookin’ forward to it.”

“Well, well. Look who’s decided to grace us with his grand presence.”

“Ooh, Wash, you shaved your mustache! Looks shiny.”

“Yeah, well. Wish I remembered why I shaved it off.” Wash glared at Mal through a half-squint and stumbled over to the coffee. The galley looked too bright and Kaylee sounded entirely too cheerful to his aching head. “Volume control’s not either of your strong suits, is it?”

“Nope!” Mal boomed cheerfully, enjoying how his pilot cringed. “Good thing li’l Kaylee here reminded me today was Christmas Eve. Otherwise you’n me’d be having this conversation elsewhere.”

“Airlock?”

“Airlock,” Mal agreed, sipping his coffee. “Nice day for a space walk, if I do say so.”

Kaylee came behind Mal and hugged him a bit too tightly, and the captain rolled his eyes in mock annoyance.

“And I do so love my cap’n for it. Gotta protect the best pilot in the ‘verse, don’t I?”

“Uh, huh,” Mal muttered. He wrestled from Kaylee’s grasp, dumped the rest of his coffee in the sink, and slapped Wash a bit too soundly on the back. The other man groaned, feeling the rattle through his teeth. “This ain’t happenin’ again, is it?”

“No, sir. I’m thinkin’ my brain would secede from my body if I tried again. We’re not on speaking terms at the moment.”

“So no change from the usual, ‘cept for the headache.”

“Ha, hah.”

Mal grinned, and didn’t even try to soften the blow. Not that Wash expected he would, anyway. “Then let’s get this shipment underway,” Mal shouted, and he clapped his hands for emphasis.

Wash rubbed his temples and tried to distract him long enough to stop the torture. “Where’s Zoë?”

“Doin’ your job,” Mal said, smirking. But there was a darkness in the captain’s eyes that told Wash that he’d better not get someone to do his work again. He swallowed and remembered that look, for future reference.

“My job? She’s flying Serenity?”

“She wanted to, for the first leg. She’s a fair pilot herself, an’ the asteroids ain’t comin’ up for another hour’r so. So no harm in it.”

“And what would’ve happened if I’d still been sleeping?”

“Oh. Well, we prolly would’ve used the bucket an’ cold water method to wake ya. Or I could’ve run the proximity alarm. Somethin’ like that.”

“Great.”

“Yep,” Mal said, leaving the galley. “Me, I’ve got inventory to finish countin’. So you’d best get to the bridge an’ make sure Zoë there ain’t runnin’ us into no early asteroids.”

“Yes, sir,” Wash said when Mal disappeared, and he jumped a little when Kaylee sidled up beside him, hugging his arm. He’d forgotten she was in the room.

“Tell you what, Kaylee,” he muttered, wincing at the nasty coffee. It tasted three hours old and looked thicker than tar. “That hun dan’s gonna be the death of me.”

“Hee. You look like go se.” She sighed, fiddled with the random spiky bits of his hair, and reached over his head to grab last night’s nearly empty jug. “’Cept for the mustache. You look right fetching without the ‘stache.”

He stared into his mug with undisguised disgust as she and added a bit of the day before into it. “As if it didn’t taste bad enough, you just had to add that le se to my coffee?”

“Hair of the pup, Wash. Trust me, you’ll feel better for’t.”

“Doubtful,” he said, sipping the mess. He shivered through the taste. Nope. He wouldn’t be touching Kaylee’s potions for a good, long while. He swirled the oily slick and stared at the contents a half beat. “Er, last night is kinda…blurrying. I do anything stupid?”

“Mm, not that I know of. Zoë said she made sure you got to bed okay, but that’s ‘bout it.”

“Zoë did?”

“Yep.”

He frowned and racked his brains over what might’ve happened, and stopped. One moment did stand out all right, and a small grin pinked his lips.

Kaylee mimicked his smile. “Comin’ back to ya, is it?”

“A little,” Wash said quietly. He smiled at the young mechanic and headed for the bridge. “But I gotta confirm a few things first.”

“Okie doke,” Kaylee said, heading for the engine room. “You go on, then. I’ll be readyin’ the engines for that fancy flyin’ you’re gonna put us through.”

Wash could’ve sworn he heard her say something in Chinese as he left. Something about lovers, and wine.

She’d been around stars and starships all her life so she didn’t get the same romantical feelings Mal and Wash had, about the Black. It was space, pure and simple, much like anything else in the ‘verse. Still, sometimes she appreciated the quiet and she did enjoy coming on the bridge from time to time and seeing Wash in his element. The Black could be a calming influence on a body, when one needed the calming.

Zoë sighed. And she did need the calming. She’d been up half the night thinking about him, though she knew he’d probably conked the second his head hit the pillow. What did they have, anyway, besides the flirting? She wanted more and her experiences taught her that life was short and waiting on something worth having was a mistake. Things got taken from you out here if you took too long. She wasn’t impulsive by any means - in fact sometimes she’d been accused of taking too much time thinking and planning - but Mal taught her how to be just a mite less planning and a mite more impulsive, and maybe it was time she did more of the impulsive when it came to Wash. Otherwise –

“Hey, Zoë.”

She hadn’t heard him and she internally kicked herself. The man was making her soft. She’d get herself killed, with all her thoughts wrapped around him.

“Wash,” she acknowledged. Her lip quirked slightly as she tossed a small packet to him. He fumbled with it when he tried to catch it with his coffee mug.

“What is it?”

“Somethin’ to help you weather that hangover.”

“Heh. Yeah. Guess I need it.”

“Take it down with whatever you’ve got in there, an’ it should set you right in a bit.”

“Thanks.” He downed the packet’s contents with a good gulp of the coffee, ambled over to the pilot’s chair, and leaned over the headrest. Zoë fought the tickle in her belly due to his nearness. “Pure beauty.”

“What--? Oh. Oh, the stars,” she nodded, catching herself. “Yeah. Guess they’re kinda pretty if you ain’t used to ‘em.”

“Heck, I could never get used to it, Zoë. Every day’s a different experience, every star a different masterpiece. That old cliché about poetry in motion? Well, you’re lookin’ at it, right there.”

She glanced over her shoulder to look at him and shivered internally at the delight in his eyes. It sort of made her jealous, since she wouldn’t mind seein’ that look over her once or twice. But she’d made a promise last night. Impulse or no she aimed to keep it, and he’d have to see it through.

“Take your word for it, Wash.”

“Yeah…” He sighed, and nibbled his bottom lip. “I wanna thank you.”

“Didn’t matter,” she said. She toggled a few switches to show their coordinates. “We’ll be comin’ up on the belt in about fifty minutes or so, so you ain’t late. Got enough time.”

“Well, yeah, the ship, too.” He ran a hand through his ginger hair. “It won’t happen again. Kaylee can keep her feng le chemistry concoctions. I won’t be drinkin’ that stuff for a while. But…thanks, Zoë. Kaylee said you helped see me back to my bunk, and I appreciate the kindness.”

“Kaylee said, huh?”

“Yep. Guess I did overdo it, some.”

“That you did.” She examined a vid screen and pretended to scan it while she flicked a few additional switches. “You…’member anything else ‘bout last night?”

“No, not really,” he sighed. “Nothing comes to mind. Why, did I do something?”

“No,” she said, feigning apathy. “Not a gorram thing.”

She could’ve sworn his eyes danced a bit but the expression on his face hadn’t changed. She was probably reading more into it. That was the problem with those damn feelings. Always readin’ more into things than she needed to. “There, that oughta do it. Got you set, pilot. You’re ready to fly.”

“Excellent.” He rubbed his hands together as they switched places. “Then let’s do this thing.”

“Yeah, let’s,” Zoë echoed. “I’m gonna go down and help Cap’n count those boxes. Make sure he don’t lose his place.”

“Then we’ve got all our geese in a row, and we’re ready to roll.”

“Somethin’ to that effect.” She nodded and headed down. “See you ‘round.”

“See ya.”

She turned to go, and missed the casual glance he threw in her direction, with the grin that would’ve made a Cheshire cat jealous.

“Okay, travelers, we’re hittin’ the asteroids in less than a minute. I don’t expect much trouble, but well…you know how trouble follows us, thanks to Mal.”

“Boy’s gettin’ more an’ more insubordinate every gorram day,” Mal groused, making a notation to the fiftieth box.

“He ain’t a boy, sir. Your age, if not older.”

Mal frowned and stared upwards, towards the bridge. “Sure don’t act like it. An’ what’s with all those gorram dinosaurs? Don’t make a lick of sense.”

“Just his way, sir,” Zoë said, marking fifty-five on her tally sheet.

“Well, I don’t like it.”

“Thought you liked him first off, sir. With all those recommendations, and all.”

“Yeah, well. Didn’t say he wasn’t a good pilot.” He stabbed the air with his stylus. “But that boy – man – is definitely out where the spaceships don’t run.”

“Prolly so, sir.”

Zoë stared at the numbers she’d been seeing for what felt like the millionth time. At least it’d keep her mind off of whatever it was she was feeling. And if Wash couldn’t remember, then it probably didn’t mean enough to him. So she’d learn to deal with it, and she’d keep her feelings under wraps – where she was convinced they should’ve been in the first place.

“Five, four, three…we’re in, travelers, so if there’s any news to be had, I’ll let ya know. And…incidentally, in honor of the holidays, here’s a little somethin’ from me, to you. Sorry if it riles you any, Mal, but it’s all Zoë’s fault:

I'm dreaming tonight/Of a place I love/Even more than I usually do/And although I know/It's a long road back/I promise you…”

“Gorrammit,” Mal muttered. He slammed his stylus down and handed his tally sheets to Zoë. “Thought I said no Christmas music. Didn’t I say no Christmas music?”

“That you did, sir, but…”

“What?” He turned to head up but stopped cold at the look on his second-in-command’s face. For the first time, in a very long time, she was smiling. Not one of those half-smiles either, but a genuine full-on, fully lit, cheesy grin.

“But…what, Zo?”

She was still smiling when she turned to talk to him. “Let ‘im sing, just this once.”

Mal made a face. “You really like this Christmas fei hua?”

“Mebee not all the time, but today…yeah. I do.”

The captain shook his head, and grabbed his tally sheets from her. “Fine. Just this once, dong ma? I ain’t about to make it a habit.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir.”

“All right, then, let’s get back to the countin’.” He nervously shifted his feet. “An’…stop all that smilin’. It’s gettin’ bothersome.”

“Of course, sir,” she said, but she didn’t, to Mal’s chagrin. Worse, she began to hum along with the chorus.