Title: Practical Jokes
Summary: There are lines you don’t cross
Rating: Very PG
Pairing: Zoe/Wash Mal/Inara
A/N: This takes place technically post BDM but it completely ignores the dying parts of Serenity. There’s a very convoluted, possibly insane reason for it being post BDM that makes no sense or matter to anyone but me anyhow. It’s a little gen and fairly silly. Written for calliopes_pen for the wifesoup ficathon.



“Aiiii!” Wash screamed as he danced backwards toward the cockpit door. He hit the switch on the wall for bridge lights then took a step toward the abomination on the floor. He bent at the waist, staring down at the puddle of…was that blood?...and plastic. There was even a knife lying near by smeared in the red liquid.

He was crouched on his heels when Zoë rushed in, responding to his scream.

“Wash, Baby, everything alright?” she asked, a hand upon his shoulder, dark eyes scanning for an immediate danger. She noticed the yellow ribbons blocking off an area of the bridge, the puddle on the floor but didn’t see any of it as a danger.

“Look at this. How could someone do this?” he asked, distress stretching his voice and making it higher pitched than usual.

Zoë regarded the mess on the floor with an arched eyebrow, a half smile quirked one corner of her lips. If anyone besides her husband had woken her in the middle of the night over something such as this she would have angry. She’d come to expect it of Wash.

“It’s murder! That’s what it is,” Wash declared as he picked up familiar bits of plastic. “What is this stuff?” He gestured toward the pool of sticky, dark red liquid.

Zoë crouched and dipped her fingers in it. “Ain’t blood. Doesn’t have the right consistency.”

“Shouldn’t it bother me that you know that?” Wash answered, puzzled and distracted for the moment.

Zoë smirked and brought her fingers up to her nose, sniffing. She tasted just the tips of her fingers. “Strawberry protein powdered, boiled down to a consistency that could be mistaken for blood.”

“Sick…someone on this ship is sick,” Wash sighed, mourning the loss of Stega, one of his favorite dinosaurs. He gathered the plastic bits, closing his fist around them.

“We’ll get you another one next time we’re planet side,” Zoë promised him.

“It’s not the same. Stega had sentimental value. A new dinosaur would just be…it wouldn’t be the same,” Wash tried to explain as he stood up and followed Zoë out of the cockpit.

Zoë put an arm around his shoulders as they walked back toward their bunk. She was only mildly surprised at the anger that bubbled up inside of her over something so trivial. It wasn’t trivial to Wash. She knew how much those dinosaurs meant to him, mementos of flight school, friends he’d lost touch with and a life he’d given up for her. Occasionally she caught sight of a letter he hadn’t quite stashed away or he’d read bits to her of the letters he got from old flight school buddies, guys who were flying luxury ships and the like, living the kind of life he’d have if he hadn’t chosen to have her in his life instead.

If this was Jayne’s idea of a funny joke, she’d grind Vera down to shavings and see how he liked it.



* * *


Mal slipped back between silk sheets, one hand automatically drifting to the curve between Inara’s hip and ribcage. She stirred at the touch of his hand, turning half onto her back, sleepy eyes asking where he’d been.

“Go back to sleep, Darlin’” he whispered and pressed a kiss to her temple. He ran a hand over her hair, soothing her and tucked himself behind her before burying his nose in the nape of her neck.

She started to question him, started to ask where he’d gone. She didn’t like the idea of him leaving her in the middle of the night. He pushed away the idea of such questions by nibbling lightly on her neck, the curve of her shoulder and before she knew it, she’d forgotten he’d ever left the bed.


* * *

Zoë held the plastic bits in her hand. She stared hard at the people surrounding the table. Their number had been diminished by one. Book had left them to Shepard a community on Haven. Wash was sitting up on the bridge, plotting their course and would be there a little while still. That left River, Kaylee, Jayne, Simon, Mal and Inara sitting around the table, most of them capable of something like this, thinking it’d be a big joke.

“I wanna know who did this an’ I don’t want to have to ask more’n once,” she said as she scattered the pieces across the table.

Inara furrowed her brow, leaning in and squinting slightly. “What are they?”

“Was one of Wash’s dinosaurs. Found it set up real cute for a practical joke. Puddle of strawberry protein boiled down to look like blood and everything. Fact there were some yellow silk ribbons used to rope off an area,” Zoë said, her gaze, landing solidly on Inara.

“Zoë! You can’t think I would…it’s a child’s prank. I wouldn’t-I have respect for other people’s property. However, it’s obvious someone here doesn’t. I haven’t checked to see if any of my things are missing but they’re ribbons. It’s entirely possible I wouldn’t notice such a thing gone,” Inara defended herself.

“Poor dino,” Kaylee pouted. “We ought to have a proper funeral for it.”

“I ain’t goin’ to no gorram funeral for a gorram plastic dinosaur,” Jayne belched between bites of protein mash.

Inara rolled her eyes in response to Jayne’s general crudeness and Simon just stared at him, still constantly amazed at the lengths of social ineptness the man ape could achieve in such a short amount of time.

“I ain’t interested in funerals an’ such. I got a husband that’s right upset ‘bout this little joke an’ I wanna know who did it. I know you’ve been feelin’ like part of the crew lately Inara and that’s all fine an’ good. We play practical jokes on each other when we’ve got a stretch of time an’ nothin’ to fill it, but there’s lines you don’t cross,” Zoë said, resuming her attack on whom she had decided was the most logical person. Inara was trying to fit in with the crew more these days, occasionally playing hoop ball and taking on chores. Playing practical jokes was just another way to fit into the crew.

At one time, Inara would have picked up her plate and taken it to her shuttle with some cold words about the conversation being finished. The truth was she was trying to fit into the crew now and the crew stayed and argued with each other.

“Zoë, you’re looking in the wrong direction. I don’t know who did this but it wasn’t me,” Inara told the woman, her voice chilled.

“Yeah, dontcha know whore school beat all the humor outta her,” Jayne piped up, earning a glare from Inara.

“Alright, that’s ‘bout enough,” Mal said, tossing the napkin in his lap to the table and standing up. “Jayne, watch your mouth at my table.” Jayne opened his mouth to say something else and snapped it shut with a growl at the look on Mal’s face. “Secondly, I’m your criminal and the dinosaur is fine. Better’n fine. Hid it under some frippery of ‘Nara’s. Plastic bits you’re holdin’ belong to another dinosaur I found last time we set down. Planned on givin’ it to Wash an’ decided this was a better use of it.”

* * *

“Feeling all better after the mean, evil Captain kidnapped you?” Wash asked the stegosaurus in his normal voice. The bridge was deserted again and they were floating out in the middle of the black. He’d gotten up in the middle of the night with a murmured excuse to Zoë, saying he wanted to check their course.

“Much better,” the stegosaurus answered in a voice that vaguely resembled a parody of Inara’s. “Only I’d like some of that silk and lace I was buried in. Maybe a dress or a negligee.”



Pre-Series, Firefly and/or Serenity: Firefly or Serenity.
Characters/Pairings other than Zoe and Wash: Mal/Inara.
Three things do you want in the fic: Wash playing with dinosaurs, Mal playing a prank on someone, and a murder mystery if at all possible.
Three things don’t you want in the fic: BDSM, smut, and PWP.
Rating: PG-13
How long would you like it to be: Any length is fine.