The Picture Meme

[stocksock]

 
The Picture Meme

A picture is worth a thousand words. They've inspired stories, conversations, and so much more. 

1. Post your character name and preferences. 
2. Reply to others comments with images.
3. Reply to any images sent to you with a starter based off of what you're given.
4. Have fun!

Comments

[hippocratical]

He knows the exact moment when things change. When she makes that decision, and he can't argue it either. He can't fight this, whatever it is, and he doesn't want to even if he could. Not when the way she says his name burns itself into his mind, glowing like an ember and settling deep into his heart. Logically, he could explain away this response. All of it. It's nothing more than physical attraction, psychological dependence on shared traits and societal patterns. But logic isn't what's at work here, and logic be damned he's going to kiss her. He wants it more than anything, and even the thought of Kaylee can only be a dim comparison in his mind.

His newly freed hand covers hers where it rests on his cheek, and the hand on her back slides ever so slightly upwards, encouraging her closer, giving his own silent approval for the moment they know is coming, and his eyes don't leave hers for a moment--

And then there's that sound from below, and the realization floods his eyes at what's almost passed between them. Realization, and sorrow, and reluctance, and a touch of frustration, too. All this in an instant, and he presses a brief, longing kiss to the palm of her hand as he removes her hand from his cheek, putting just enough distance between them to be proper. He doesn't want to be proper. He doesn't want to let her go. Instead of saying this, he pushes his hair back from where its fallen over his forehead, eyes saying everything he can't.

"Enjoy your evening, Inara. Your client is a lucky, lucky person." He wishes he could be there, for the first time ever, at one of those events.

[notaboutsex]

It's isn't fair, really, not that she's the kind to pity herself often. But Inara thinks she's right in feeling that way now. Simon had wanted this too, after all - even if she wasn't gifted at reading people, his feelings were clear. All the signals were there. His larger hand on her own had been so warm, his hand on her back urging her gently. All the feelings she'd been trying not to have were just overflowing, and the moment was electric. She was quickly losing herself in that moment, something she just didn't normally do. What is a kiss, at the end of the day, but just another form of intimacy? It's something she does with almost every client. But Simon wasn't a client, something for which she was very glad of in that moment. Her hand on his chest had already been clutching his shirt when she'd leaned in...

But the sounds of other crew members ruins the moment, causing reality to come crashing back down around them. His own sorrow and frustration must be mirrored in her own eyes, and it pains her deeply to see the same emotions on his face. It makes her want to just pull him back in, no matter the cost. But she can't - they can't, and that sweet kiss to her hand says as much. The proper distance might as well be a large chasm for how much she doesn't like it. Her expression, so sweet and sad, leaves her an open book, says what she can't say aloud to him. That for once, she does not want to leave Serenity on her shuttle for a client. She wants to stay here for Simon.

Inara smiles at his kind words, though it is a bittersweet expression on her face. Down below, she hears the voices of Kaylee and Wash. The others haven't returned from the job yet, but it's only a matter of time - unless things go wrong. And River is likely to find her brother sooner rather than later, if she's out and about on the ship.

"I wish you come, Simon," she says sincerely, a longing note still on her tone. "You have more class than many of them, if not all of them combined. You would fit right in." With her. But she knows he wouldn't come, because he wouldn't leave his sister, and especially not just for a ball. So she gives him one last, little smile that disappears after she's lowered her gaze and moved past him, back to her shuttle.

[hippocratical]

That look in her eyes is almost enough to make him reach back out, to pull her in for a kiss he knows they're both feeling the lack of. He wants her to stay. He wants her to stay for him.

But there are consequences to the things they want, and complications they'd never see the end of--Mal and Kaylee, for starters, and the rest of the crew, Jayne and his blunt, obtuse words, Zoe's quiet looks of disapproval, and River, what would River think--and so he doesn't reach for her again after his fingers slide from hers, feeling as though flesh has been stripped from every one of their nerve endings.

"I'd come, if I could. If only to get a proper dance." The words are all he can give her, and there's the barest hint of what he's feeling in the words, the smallest smile he manages to give her in return. He can't leave. He can't risk what he and River have found here for anything, not even if a part of him whispers that Inara might be worth it. So instead of reaching back for her, he watches her walk away, and spends the rest of his night in the medbay, even after Jayne is patched up, even after he and Mal have traded their usual barbed words, even after Kaylee's given up on trying to coax him into the crew's nightly card games. He stays there, because he swears he can still smell her perfume. Small consolation for the lack of Inara's presence.