It's not often that Wash finds himself speechless.
Well, okay, he finds himself speechless fairly often – this tends to happen whenever Zoe takes her clothes off in front of him, as a matter of fact, but usually it's in disbelief at his continued luck and wears off in a matter of seconds. But this time is just a bit different.
“Um, lambie-toes?”
“Yeah?” she asks, hand on her hip, her recently removed bra dangling from one finger, and yes, that's distracting, but not quite distracting enough to get his eyes off what she's still wearing.
“Why are you – um – that is, your delicates there, are they-”
Zoe makes herself busy picking up the rest of their discarded clothing, and if he didn't know she's got a stone cold poker face that the Core's biggest gamblers would envy, he'd think she was trying to hide a smirk. “You got something to say, husband, just spit it out.”
“Well, no, I can't actually, which would be the problem, but-”
When she turns back to him, she's got her fingers playing at the waistband of her highly unique garment, so it takes him a second to notice her impatiently raised eyebrow.
Alright then, time to be a man and just confront the issue head on. “Is it just me or did you make underpants out of my old shirt?”
There's smirking going on now for sure as she comes up to him, sliding her arms around his neck. “Waste not.”
“I always was fond of that shirt. Not quite so fond of it as I am now, maybe, but still.”
He gets once last glance at the bright and garish Hawaiian pattern as Zoe responds to his guiding hands and steps out of them, and then he tosses them over his shoulder, cause now he's definitely got better things to think about.
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Patterned Perspectives (Wash/Zoe, PG-13)
Date: 2011-10-19 07:50 am (UTC)Well, okay, he finds himself speechless fairly often – this tends to happen whenever Zoe takes her clothes off in front of him, as a matter of fact, but usually it's in disbelief at his continued luck and wears off in a matter of seconds. But this time is just a bit different.
“Um, lambie-toes?”
“Yeah?” she asks, hand on her hip, her recently removed bra dangling from one finger, and yes, that's distracting, but not quite distracting enough to get his eyes off what she's still wearing.
“Why are you – um – that is, your delicates there, are they-”
Zoe makes herself busy picking up the rest of their discarded clothing, and if he didn't know she's got a stone cold poker face that the Core's biggest gamblers would envy, he'd think she was trying to hide a smirk. “You got something to say, husband, just spit it out.”
“Well, no, I can't actually, which would be the problem, but-”
When she turns back to him, she's got her fingers playing at the waistband of her highly unique garment, so it takes him a second to notice her impatiently raised eyebrow.
Alright then, time to be a man and just confront the issue head on. “Is it just me or did you make underpants out of my old shirt?”
There's smirking going on now for sure as she comes up to him, sliding her arms around his neck. “Waste not.”
“I always was fond of that shirt. Not quite so fond of it as I am now, maybe, but still.”
He gets once last glance at the bright and garish Hawaiian pattern as Zoe responds to his guiding hands and steps out of them, and then he tosses them over his shoulder, cause now he's definitely got better things to think about.