Title: One Man's Weeds
Author: babies stole my dingo (agilebrit)
Rating: PG for one very slightly naughty word
Length: Flashfic (under 500 words)
Disclaimer: Joss is the genius behind these characters; I am but a lowly follower. I make no money from any of this, so please don't sue me.
Feedback: Concrit adored! If you see something that can be improved upon, please let me know.
Written for: ff_friday's "Weeds" prompt.
Notes: Eh, I'm going to say that this takes place sometime after Blooming Cactus, but it can be read as a standalone. Jayne/Zoe, post-BDM. Yes, I realize I'm on crack.
Jayne wasn't sure he knew anything about romance, not like romance in storybooks, anyhow. But he knew women liked certain things, and Zoe was a woman, and therefore...
Therefore, he was out in the middle of a field, with a basket he'd picked up in the marketplace, sneezing like a maniac, picking flowers. Oh, the ones available in the market next to the basket vendor had been all pretty and stuff, but they were too fancified for his taste, looked like they'd been grown indoors and wouldn't know real sunlight if it burnt 'em to a crisp.
These flowers, though...they were strong, had character. Like Zoe. They'd seen some tough times, like Zoe. They'd had hardships, like drought and bugs. Er. Not that Zoe'd been infested with bugs, and they had plenty of water on Serenity, but damn sure she'd seen some hard times. These dark purple prickly ones 'specially reminded him of her, real pretty, but with strong defenses--stabbed him somethin' fierce, and he had to shoo away a mighty fat bumblebee to get a particularly succulent flower. They were set off nicely by these yellow ones, that bled what looked like milk when he picked them. And then there were these big round pinkish-purple things that were right pretty to look at, with horned black and yellow and white caterpillars on the leaves. He left the caterpillars, but took several of the flowers. They bled a sticky white sap as well, more gluey than milky.
Took him a bit, but he was finally satisfied with the arrangement, and he brought it aboard the ship and set it on the kitchen table with a simple note that said "For Zoe."
Mal walked into the dining room to find Zoe sitting at the table, chin in hand, staring bemusedly at ...
"Zoe? What's a basket of weeds doin' in the middle of my kitchen?"
She looked like she didn't know if she wanted to laugh or cry. "These ain't weeds, Sir."
"No?" He crossed his arms. "I see thistles, dandelions, and milkweed. Everyplace in the 'verse I've ever been, those things is weeds. You tellin' me different?"
"I surely am. These, Sir, are flowers. And if you'll excuse me--" She rose to her feet and scooped the basket up, cradling it as if she was protecting it from him. "--I'll be in my bunk."
It was Mal's turn to be bemused as she strode out of the room. "Huh."