Title: The Dreams of Men and
Warrior Women
Summary: Pre series, shortly
after Zoe and Wash are
married. The first of a
fight they will come to have
many times.
Prompt: DM September Fuzz
The look Wash gave her hurt
worse than the incredulous
“What?” he actually voiced.
It was a look of complete
and utter disbelief. It was
a look that said the thought
had never really crossed his
mind, at least not
seriously.
“I want a baby. A little
person that’s part of you
and part of me. With my skin
and your eyes. It ain’t a
difficult concept, Wash.
People have ‘em all the
time.”
“Yes…but not generally
aboard space ships,” Wash
pointed out.
“My parents did,” Zoë
smirked, her arms crossed
over her chest as she
regards him coolly from
across the room. He was
going to have to come up
with better excuses if he
thought he was going to sway
her.
Wash sighed and sat down on
the edge of the bed. “It’s
not so much the space ship
I’ve got objections to,
although kids should have
sand boxes to dig in and
jungle gyms to climb on.”
“That’s what Jayne is
for…the climbing,” Zoë half
joked.
Wash grinned, and for a
moment Zoë could almost see
him thinking about his kids
climbing all over Jayne.
“That’s not the point,
Lambytoes. It’s the high
frequency of getting shot at
that I’m objecting to most,”
Wash said.
“I get shot at and I won’t
be takin’ any child of ours
on jobs.”
“And I’ll be flying the
ship. Who do you propose
will be taking care of this
child while its mother is
out getting shot at?” Wash
argued, anger beginning to
flush his skin pink.
“Kaylee don’t go on missions
with us and there ain’t a
reason in the world you
can’t have our son up here
in a little play pen while
you’re flyin’,” Zoë told
him. She was still standing
against the doorframe, her
arms crossed over her chest.
Wash bowed his head and
rubbed at his temple.
“Zoë…it’s not that I don’t
want to have a child with
you…”
“Have you ever even thought
about it?” Zoë asked
pointedly.
“Of course,” he told her
earnestly. He stood up and
walked to her, pulling her
into his embrace. “Who
wouldn’t want a baby that
looks like you and has my
sense of humor?”
She remained tense, not
melting into his embrace the
way she usually would.
“Zoë…I’ve thought about it.
I just didn’t realize you
had,” he told her. “What
prompted this?”
“I saw this baby in the
marketplace…real young had
this reddish fuzz for hair
on it’s head…made me start
thinkin’ ‘bout what a baby
you and I made would look
like,” Zoë answered in a
soft, melancholy voice.
“We just got married, Zoë.
I’m enjoying having my
warrior wife all to myself
for a little while. We’ve
got plenty of time to think
about babies,” Wash murmured
against her neck. He nibbled
lightly at the skin there.
Zoë laughed, deep and
throaty. “Might ought to
start practicin’ on makin’
that baby…just so we’ll know
how it’s done when we decide
to have one.”
Wash gently pulled her out
of the doorway and guided
her toward the bed. “Sounds
like a plan to me, Lambytoes,”
he said as he kicked the
door shut.
