To: La Princesse

From:

Betas: Thanks, for a variety of things, to Elly (fantasticmuse) and Ruby (ruby nye).

Fandom: Firefly

Threesome: Mal Reynolds/Zoe Washburne/Wash Washburne

Title: From One Point To Another

Requested Element: Smut is always a good thing.

Notes: This is not near as smutty as I would have liked -- it is very mild, really -- but it was my first time writing them all together and I hope that my recipient thinks that it is close enough. I did enjoy writing these three (it was my first real time writing Wash, actually, and I hope that doesn't show), and would write them again

Summary: It's not the sort of thing you'd think would work.

It's not the sort of thing you'd think would work.

Maybe cause—well, being full of honesty, it just doesn't make that much sense. Wash is to the point were, well, maybe that's not what has to count, because sense might be what helps you out in the black (a lack of it, or having more than your full), but beds aren't really made for that. Not a lot makes sense, now—after all that with Niska, yeah, making sense certainly isn't on the top of his list of what's become priority. There are more important things—just holding himself together, yeah, that's more important. But come again, it isn't like he's falling apart. Zoe needs him to be strong and, being full of honesty once again, that's what he needs from himself, too.

Anyhow, if there's one who'd understand it—sense, and how you don't always need it—well, stars and hell, it would have to be Mal.

Anyhow, it's not the first time it ever happened (mostly had that one blocked out, not that it wasn't full of it's own charm—er, all right, then, maybe that's not the right word for him to go and use, but it's as close as he can get to describing it just right); but he'd not had Zoe to himself (come on, now, Wash, no need to go and get jealous—and it shouldn't work cause he does get jealous, Mal gets under his skin and makes him irritable, makes him twitch), not yet, and he was wondering if Mal had ever had her (not that she was the sort that would be had—more that she'd be having, really), and he knew them just enough that they were old war buddies and they weren't with the Alliance, and he knew he could do better than them but just because he could do better, well, that didn't mean that being here wasn't where he was meant to be.

Being where you're meant, that's important, and he'd come a long way from home and he wanted to do his family (well, his dad) proud, as much as he could. Wouldn't be sending waves back, didn't think he'd ever speak to him (or them) again. But somehow, somewhere, someone might be proud. Just an inkling of it, just a bit.

Mal had said something, about how the mustache, it would have to go, and Zoe had just grinned and made a snipping motion with her fingers. She had a pretty, pretty smile, and Wash was drinking more (and it was harder than what he was used to, not that he was really used to much) than was his norm, but he'd passed by concern and was more worried with just sitting up and not making a fool of himself (cause he was good at that, oh yes, he was). And Zoe had a pretty, pretty smile, and she and Mal had a history, and Wash hadn't hit the point where he was jealous. Not yet. The drink was good, and there is a point here, really, in all that he's remembering. Zoe making a toast. Mal cocking that grin, lifting his glass in turn. Wash's fingers sliding against glass, and he almost spilled the hard liquor, but his glass tinked against his and hers, and that was all well enough, and Mal was still grinning as he knocked his drink back.

Okay. Wash, get better at this. Get to the point.

Well, it was a knot they woke in, the morning after, and Mal was more naked than Wash remembered him having been, right before (even if right before was a full night, he couldn't tell, not at the time), and Zoe was, too, and it was kind of just natural, between the two, though Wash

It wasn't fair. It was good, that sex, he knew it was good, but he couldn't remember it, not at all. Well, he got it back, getting lucky with Zoe (er, that he married her, that is), but he didn't remember Mal. After a time, well, that had to be for the best. So he put it away, out of mind, and time kept going after. After more time, he had all but forgot.

But that was back then, and this was now, and you really wouldn't think that it could work—especially now, since there's no liquor (even if Wash still feels like he must be drunk). Come on, he hadn't meant it, didn't want to see Mal taking his wife, didn't even want to think about it, okay, thank you very much, but it started with a comment and that held him together when his edges started to fray, but then there was time and time after, and it wasn't just that—it was kind of, well, their running joke.

Went from that to another, and then one day Zoe was saying, "No, I could do it better, sir," and Wash couldn't help but wonder what she was on about.

Of course, when he asked, it was too much information and Zoe laughed at him, and Mal laughed at him, too. Then Mal had clapped him on the shoulder, and went off, and Wash was left with Zoe and her grin. She'd tugged on his collar and gave him a kiss on the cheek, and then with another tug, she said. "I'm more suited to it, don't you reckon?"

"What I reckon's—this is more than I want to know, really, and I should just get back to—piloting. Ship needs piloting, don't you know."

But she didn't let him go. "Well," and it was open and honest, how she looked at him. "Just think about it. Thinkin' never did hurt much, did it? Just think about it, let me know what you think. But, between the captain and I, I can only say I'm better suited to making you squirm."

Really. More than he wanted to think about, but then he was thinking about him, between Zoe and Mal, and he thought about how he couldn't remember that sex they'd had (could have had, should have had, would have to have again), and he could only laugh and grin at her, outrageous and wide, and he shook his head and took himself off, along with his thoughts.

And, really, you wouldn't think that it would work, but it's working better than Wash could ever dream.

"This is—ow. Stop that, Mal. Mal, that. I am not a toy for you to rough about."

Zoe snickers and jams her fist against her mouth, trying not to laugh. Wash is trying not to laugh, too, but Mal's not at all concerned, and his laugh is wide and open and rough and wild. "Now, you reckon that's what I'm about?" Mal breathes, mouth against skin, fingers twitching over Wash's hip, and Wash jerks and yelps and Mal's lucky he doesn't kick, when Mal takes hold of flesh and twists.

"No, not that—"

"Oh, sir, that is hardly fair."

"Well, way I conjure it, it's not got a thing about it that should concern itself with being fair."

He thinks it about it a bit. All right, more than just a bit, and they run a job and get their pay and then they're back out in the black, and Wash has got more time to him than he should know what to do with. And it isn't just Mal that gets under his skin, Zoe does a fair job at it, too, and he says to her, one day, when she's snug on his lap and his mouth tastes like hers, cause they've been at kissing:

"Did you mean it, really?"

He probably doesn't mean to say it, but he says it anyhow, and Zoe looks at him like she's not heard him. Kisses him again, and Wash tangles one finger in her hair, gives a slight tug.

"I mean. Uh. Did you hear me, then?"

She hums a little when they kiss, this time. "Oh, I heard it all, I'm sure."

"Well, what did I say?"

"Something about. Well. What?"

She looks at him, wide-eyed and waiting, and Wash looks at a plastic dinosaur and then shrugs. "Uh, well, what you and Mal were on about. You know, the thing with the—thing. And the—you know."

She gives him a look, but doesn't say a thing—quirks one eyebrow, and then the other, an elegant shifting as she waits for him to go on.

So he gives a little shrug and goes on, as that's all he's got now, and says, "Well, uh, I gave it thought and now I'm thinking, well, maybe I'd not mind it, knowing which of you better make me squirm."

And Zoe looks at him like he's half-mad. No, more than half.

It's working better than he thought it would but, really, it really isn't fair. He points this out, stuttering as he does, heat on his shoulder going cold—cold and wet, where Mal had licked him. He is beyond reconciling that with the rest of his mind, that Mal had gone and licked him. Yeah, definitely, he doesn't want to think about that too much, more than he already has.

"What happened to my clothes?"

Mal just gives him a look—a Mal look, practical and hard with the ghost of some half-forgotten grin. "Don't see as how clothes'll do you any good."

"Well," he says, like he'll go up in flame at any moment, with Mal looking at him and Zoe looking at him, too—but he forgets what he's thinking, that metaphor, as Mal and Zoe are looking at each other and it's a challenge. Sort of, anyhow—well, that's what he figures out, how they look at each other, and all.

"Um. I am here, you know.

"Yes, honey," Zoe says. "We know."

Like, it had to be a minute after that, or maybe two, when he laughed and decided that if he was half-mad, well, they were half-mad or more, too—well, they had to be, they were the ones who had suggested it in the first. No, no, they couldn't be, cause Zoe had got a look of clarity in her eyes, and Mal, too, like they knew what they were on about. And Wash, for all he'd stuttered and blushed red, well, he still did want to know who could do it better. And how they'd do it, just as well.

So he reached out when Mal tried to move away, and made a bold statement concerning the state of his captain's clothes—then he gave his wife a look, and his wife looked back at him, and that look said more than any words, now didn't it? Then Mal just grinned wide, when Wash looked back at him, and he went to say something back, but Wash knew his moment well enough so he propelled him forward, into that kiss.

Kind of odd, kissing Mal. Couldn't recall if he'd done it, before, but it wasn't that bad. Not that good, but—not that bad. Yes, odd was the very best word for it. But it was Mal, and odd was what fit. And it's something more than that, just kissing, cause kissing has a way to leading to other things and when Wash is through (yes, Wash thinks, when I'm through) with Mal, well, there's other things that he wants to find out, too: wants to touch and feel, wants to know Mal's hand on him when Zoe is touching him, too—wants to buck and groan, half-mad, and it is far better than any sex they might have had, once before, sex he can't now remember.

(Zoe's got a pretty, pretty smile, he remembers, and he remembers something he's sure he's never even thought, that Mal's grin is more wild than true.) Well, that's a flash of it, a flash of a possibility, anyhow, and if it is all real, well, doing much better now.

But between them, they make a very good job of making him squirm—so good, it doesn't seem right, or fair, or even needful, for him to pick the better of the two.

And when they don't talk about it, after, well, that still doesn't stop it from happening all over again.