Fic: Fools gold
Author: Ann
Fandom: Firefly
Pairing/character: Wash/Simon/Mal, Mal/Simon
Rating: NC-17
Summary:He can’t remember the last time he felt this awful. This stupid. He’s extremely conscious that he’s blushing, face heated and burning up to his ears and down his chest, breath coming louder and harsher in the quiet room as he remembers Simon’s delight earlier at seeing how far the blush traveled.
Notes/Warnings: angst, sex, unrequited love

Prompts: Mal and Simon are in a relationship, Wash gets tired of looking in from the outside and wants in on it too. Unrequited love on Wash's side for once?

Written for the Threesome_fic_exchange

Thanks to noandwhere for the great beta.



Now

He should have known it would end like this.

Wash itches to turn away. He can feel the lump in his throat swell, some noise or other threatening to break loose as he gropes around for his pants, his shirt. Anything clothing wise within arms length. His eyes are still on them though trying not to focus on the image of them as it blurs slightly, coming more out of focus, and melds together more. It's just another slap in the face and Wash has had enough of those tonight.

He wants to be in the cockpit, doing what he does best. Doing what can calm and center and take his mind away from everything else. He glances up to the top of the room for a moment towards the hatch, aching to be in that room rather than this one, his fingers twitch wanting to hold onto something solid, something real. But a slight noise draws his attention back down to them, resentment sweeping over him that he can’t even have one moment of free thought without being confronted by the reminder of one them.

He should have known. Damn it, he should have listened, he never listens. Just gets excited and lets his mind skip selectively over things that don’t suit him. It’s a useful trait when it comes to dealing with people like Jayne, was even with Zoe upon a time, but it’s not been so helpful now. He wishes he could feel indignation at them, feel mistreated and put upon but he can hear Mal’s voice, clear as day, hinting on one night, one time, something they’d both been looking to experience.

And Wash had been there. Right place, right time, wrong assumption

They’d both kissed him, long and deep at the end--thanking him, Wash supposes. He should have taken it as his cue to leave. Not watched them kiss. Not seen the passion and playfulness and feeling all tied up in the kiss. Not kept watching as Simon closed his eyes and spooned behind Mal, the captain sleepy but catching Simon’s arm with his hand, fingers lightly ghosting over the doctor’s skin until they fell asleep.

He can’t remember the last time he felt this awful. This stupid. He’s extremely conscious that he’s blushing, face heated and burning up to his ears and down his chest, breath coming louder and harsher in the quiet room as he remembers Simon’s delight earlier at seeing how far the blush traveled. He shouldn’t have anticipated or expected anything, should have remembered his flight instructor's warning about getting too comfortable-about not paying attention. Advice that ironically was more applicable in his personal life then when flying. Flying came naturally, it was exhilarating and comfortable all at once, and it never left him with a bad taste in his mouth.

He can hear her voice again, firm and chiding, no longer drowned out by the excited rush that came with a first flight: Don’t rush in Hoban, you’re always tripping over yourself to get there. Be cautious.

The sex had been good, back-breakingly fantastic which was a bonus at least. Wash tries to remind himself of the positive, caught up all depressed and brooding he’s starting to feel like someone else.

Fool--he can’t helping thinking it, he still feels like one. His fingers close around the familiar material of his shirt as he pulls it towards him hastily, ignoring the bright and cheerful splashes of color that seem to mock his mood.

Maybe he should have just left right away, well after the sex-Wash isn’t about to wish that away, even if it hurts not to- he should gone back to his own bunk and let his heart break there. Instead of here. But they should have let him, instead of making space for him on the bed. They could have let him have his fantasy and go back to his bunk happy for at least one night. Then let him down gently in the morning. That‘s what Wash would have done. He knows gentle let-downs, careful rejections. He‘s made some in his time, had some too. More aboard Serenity than anywhere else now, he thinks, his mind resting on Zoe for a moment before Mal and Simon snap it back.

To them. To their closeness and…just how go-se is the ‘verse? He wants to laugh, bitter though he’s sure it will be. Or hysteric maybe, he’s never done that one; all high-pitched and wavering but Wash is sure the situation warrants it. They’d never told him, never said the words to each other as far as he could guess, so how could he have known? The men he‘s in love with, love each other. Or are so gorramn close, they’d have to be oblivious not to see it. Or just stubborn and stupid themselves.

Wash wants to shake one or the other awake, craves the idea of taking their mouths in an aggressive kiss and making them see him. But he can’t. Can’t be that blatant when they’re being so clear. He’s not as confident as he would like.

He’s done what he wanted now, has waited until they both fell asleep, he needs to actually get and go. Take the walk of shame back to his own bunk and lick his wounds.

Simon’s still spooning Mal from behind, his arm thrown one broad shoulder, close but not pressed up against him now. Wash wants to think their rutting’s done that, made them too hot to curl up close, but it’s more likely Serenity herself. Wash can feel himself sweating a little in the warmth of the ship as he gropes behind him for his shirt, cringing as a loud clang fills the room and he remembers, just as his gaze drops down on to, the bottle of lube they’d hastily tossed aside earlier.

Great, sound like an elephant why don‘t you?

The lube has cracked open and spilled over Mal’s pants, his suspenders coated in the greasy liquid, something that bizarrely make Wash’s lips quirk for a moment as he imagines Mal trying to pull them on and having them slip all over instead, tight pants that the captain can‘t wait to get out of giving him a wedgie that‘ll leave him uncomfortable as he tries strutting around. Slide and glide….just like Blue Sun advertises.

His smiles fades pretty quickly as he looks back up at them. Neither stirs at the sound, too content with each other; even in sleep they seem to be reveling in a lazy intimate manner which conveys their closeness, and how they manage that Wash has no idea. He waits, watches and feels like an intruder on this private moment. Feels his stomach clutch as a lump grows in his throat and he tries to push the rising anger aside. He wants to lash out, to hurt. There’s no room for him here, no leisurely kiss and tug into one of their arms like he‘d longed for. Been tricked into believing could happen.

His fingers are twitching wanting something to distract him, jaw aching as he presses his lips together and grits his teeth. He wants to be in the cockpit, needs something familiar like the black in front of him and the rough plastic of his dinosaurs to keep him distracted. This should be an interesting story to tell though Wash isn’t sure it’s an inevitable betrayal one, more accursed fate. Though he’s sure when it comes to the dinosaurs telling the tale, Mal and Simon won’t come across too favorable. In fact he’s got a wrinkly scowling carnivore, which has been neglected of late and could do with being the star, and coupled with the uncomfortable looking herbivore which looks like it needs the relief more plants could give…he shakes his head.

Climbing quietly from the bunk, Wash pulls his pants hurriedly on, stumbling over the button fly and yanking his shirt on quickly. He gives himself slight friction burns stuffing his hands so quickly into the shirt and winces, leaning back against the wall. He freezes for a moment at the creak it makes and chides the brief flare of hope that either Simon or Mal would waken enough to see and sleepily call him back. But they don’t stir.

He tires not to look back as he climbs from the bunk but he can’t help seeing them. Can’t help the anger when only a few hours he was blissfully still luxuriating in his own fantasy, eager to play it out and taking an active role in has own heart ache.

Rubbing his head, fingers clutching at his hair as if to pull the headache that’s risen between his eyes away, Wash climbs up the ladder and places his hand on the hatch. Perhaps it’s time to move on. Unlike Mal…Zoe…hell the rest of the crew, he has no intention of never leaving Serenity behind. There’s no fight for him here, hasn’t been one for a long time from the looks of it and for once, Wash misses the waves he used to get. The attention from others. Waves trying to draw him from Serenity. Offering him test pilot jobs, cruisers. Right now anything would do. Will do.

He could put a laugh on things, brush it off come morning and act like nothings changed but Wash knows it has. Knows his jokes will become harder, more pointed and bitter and he’ll become some twisted up dead thing inside like…well Wash isn’t sure what like. He’d have said a Reaver but that was extreme, he got queasy at the idea of eating undercooked meat and didn’t have an urge to pillage and plunder.

He realizes he’s been standing at the hatch for a while now, pondering and waiting. Waiting for one to wake and miss him? To come and find him and pull him back down? It’s not going to happen. They’re a couple, Mal and Simon. Simon and Mal. Just his rutting bad luck that Simon got close to Mal where Wash couldn’t and Mal got to Simon first. Luck of the ’verse-it isn’t in his favor. He’s tempted, as his fingers curl tighter around the metal, but Wash resists the urge to slam the hatch shut and walks back to his own bunk.

He doubts they’d notice anyway.


Ten hours earlier

Wash is bored, mind numbingly annoy-Jayne-until-he-threatens-violence bored. Everyone’s off ship but him, enjoying the fruits of Orion. All Wash is enjoying is his limited view from the cockpit and the knowledge that the ship is his, for the day anyway. Not that he’d have told Mal that, the Captain’s been tetchy enough of late, probably uncomfortable that most of the crew have noticed he and Simon’s not so subtle bunk arrangements.

He’s not sure why Mal is bothered by it, Wash knows if he had been lucky enough to get Simon into his bunk he’d have been shouting it so people could even hear him through the black. But Mal’s always been strange like that, always held people at arms length and then kept pushing them back there, keeping his space free-easy and uncomplicated. Wash saw it happen with Inara, the both of them pushing away from each other like a repelling force.

Which had been why Wash had just kept up the banter between them, making his interest clear without coming over like an eager puppy. Kept subtlety joking and pushing at the man lightly, hoping his words would strike something.

He sighs, fingers dancing over the controls, not doing much, just checking. Wishing he was actually doing something, not grounded to the ship and stuck there alone.

If Mal had outright rejected him it would have been easier, would have pushed him to move on. Like when Zoe rejected him, despite his persistence. She’d been friendly about it, stopped giving him the funny looks she had since he’d come aboard and he‘d stopped chasing.

That had been a shame, Wash still wonders what it would have been like if he‘d wooed her around, got her into his arms. Chance were he‘d never have let her go, he suspected that the first time he‘d met her, she was the kind of women who got under your skin and stayed there. They just weren’t close friends, just crew-family in a way, he supposes- and she’d still warned him off the captain. Didn’t say why, just made it clear she didn’t approve.

He halfheartedly rearranges his ‘saurs. Lines them up then scatters them over the cockpit, a small mischievous part of him hoping Mal’s pigu meets the Triceratops favored horns. The captain's reaction is always the best to Wash’s mind, and the one least likely to end in him being thumped or threatened with violence (Zoe and Jayne), lectured (Book, sometimes Simon) or paid back in spades (River).

Thinking on the crew leads him back to thinking on Mal, on Simon. The uncomfortable loneliness settling over him has nothing to do with actually being alone on board the ship. He’d been too cautious with Simon, Wash knows that now; so sure the man would reject him with River’s head so messed up, that he held back and Mal slipped in there first.

Wash flicks over the smallest of the dinosaurs despondently, brow furrowing in confusion as the warning light flicks on to tell him the airlocks opening. He’s already up and standing, hearing Mal’s call come through the comm as he ignores the slight flip to his stomach and the way his steps hurry down towards the cargo hold.

Seven hours earlier

This is more than flirting, it’s…Wash isn’t sure but he’s positive there’s a word for it somewhere. All thoughts of it flee from his mind though when Simon lightly squeezes his knee in a manner less proper than Wash would have expected from him. It sends a thrill through him, makes him wonder what’s going on as Mal refills his glass laughing loudly at something Simon has just said that Wash, in his musings, has missed.

He seems to be missing a lot tonight. Mal and Simon are really tactile with each other, not holding back as they touch hands, exchange smiles and flirt with him? Wash isn’t sure what’s going on but he’s enjoying it, the attention’s focused on him for a change and as Simon leans in close he feels the man’s lips graze his ear, murmuring god only knew what in his ear because Wash is past hearing anything.

Something needs to happen or he needs to go back to his bunk pretty quickly. It’s like his fantasy combined with everything as Simon takes his hand in an intimate gesture which has Wash’s breath catching because its not just to do with sex, Simon’s not guiding his fingers anywhere. It’s everything to do with what he really wants. Both of them. Sex, affection…something more? Something he knows he’s desperately close to feeling, even if he’s been trying to deny it. First Mal, then Simon, now both of them.

He’s not listening to Mal as the captain speaks to him, suddenly serious in a voice all low and firm, it’s too hard to concentrate with Simon so close and Mal leaning closer. He knows an invitation when he hears it though, heady as he’s feeling and with shaky hands he accepts Mal’s offer to go back to their bunk.


Four hours earlier

Wash can feel Mal’s eyes on his body as he shudders underneath Simon, a groan coming to his throat as heat flashes through him. Simon’s hands are all over him, touching and teasing, stroking over Wash’s cock making him arch up into each of the thrusts. Eagerly he pushes back, a noise close to a whimper leaving his throat as Simon claims his lips, devours his mouth in a deep kiss and pulls him close.

He doesn’t notice that Simon’s gaze drifts to Mal more, doesn’t see that he’s performing for Mal just as much as he’s enjoying pleasuring Wash or that the captain’s eyes are focused firmly on Simon, hand stroking his own cock in time to Simon’s thrusts.

Wash is blissfully unaware of anything but pleasure, just enjoying and touching Simon-Simon, who is so gorramn gorgeous naked and all over him. Teasing both him and Mal by slowing right down, pressing into Wash torturously slow, sending waves of heat up his spine. He wants to touch Mal, wants to kiss the captain again and feel Mal all over him too, but right now Simon is there and Wash is trying not to get greedy; but he can’t resist touching the man, gripping at his hips as Mal moves forward cock bobbing lightly.

Mal and Simon only kiss for a moment but Wash’s breath still catches at the picture they make, Simon’s hands still playing over his cock drawing a deep groan from him that brings their attention back and then it’s Mal’s lips on his, Mal’s tongue tangling with his own as Simon pounds into him.

Wash can’t think of a better way to end this day, the best he’s had in a long while. Right now, at this moment, he doesn’t care if it’s greedy, he wants it all and more. Wants both of them and can’t wait to spend every other day like this.

Sharing and being shared.