FIC: Birthday Candles (1/1); NC-17; Simon/Mal; Author: Esmeralda
Title: Birthday Candles
Author: Esmeralda
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Firefly
Pairing(s): Simon/Mal
Disclaimer: This is a work of impure fiction.
Warnings: M/M
Feedback: Constructive criticism is always welcome.
Original Date: November 2007 (posted in the_pretty_fits)
___________________________________________________________
Among the many distracting events of Simon's birthday--for instance, Serenity blowing her compression coil in a fireball, me nearly dying of a pirate-inflicted gunshot to the gut, and my crew misfollowing my orders in such a particular way as to leave me grateful for them disobeying me--it would be understandable to go and forget something that Kaylee never meant to plant in my head at all.
Thing is, just before everything started to go south magnificent-like (as if we were headed to hell tucked up in one of Inara's beaded handbags), just before that moment, Kaylee said that certain something so mind-altering it occurred to me nothing might ever be the same.
Despite that Kaylee's constantly in heat, the woman is such an innocent she lacks the guile in her to think up something like that and use it a'purpose. There was a quick, hot moment of revelation inside my head just before River said, softly, "Fire," and none of us had the sense to panic, and only Zoe had the presence of mind to act.
My engineer's words come back to me now that my crew is safe, my head has cleared, and Simon is once again causing me pain checking my wound.
"You could ask me, Doc, and I could tell you it's still there so you don't have to poke at it, unwrap it, and rewrap it to find out." Regardless of my sudden recall of the mind-altering thought, I can't keep from peeving at him.
He doesn't look at me, just gives that smarter-than-you bit of quirk-smile that usually calls to my fist, and keeps on wrapping. His hands are warm as they smooth the edges back in place. I reach out and touch one, just a tap really, but he startles back. I tell him, more sternly than I mean, "Understand that you're in precious small company that I hold still for you to cause me pain. Most people absorb considerable trouble for that privilege."
For a moment, Simon seems at a loss, his features softening as his instincts take in the sidelong compliment. But right quick he covers up. "I have absorbed considerable trouble," he says sharply, and turns away.
He speaks only truth there. I nod and smile, though he can't see it. "You have at that." I swing my legs off the table and make myself scarce. It's timely, because what Kaylee said is working with the moment of softness in Simon's expression to render my britches tighter than is precisely comfortable. They don't get more comfortable until I'm safely at the helm, boots up, distracted by the colors of atmo at moonrise. Inara's likely not to be back until morning, and we're safely stocked and stowed. I've got nothing I need to be doing for a change.
I'm a man of disciplined appetites. People take note of it, but I can't credit it, don't take pride in it. I've always been like that. When Ma said to five-year-old me that my little sister could have new boots if I didn't ask for pie at every supper, I quit asking for pie. Doesn't mean I didn't want pie. Hardship really don't trouble me as long as those I love are safe and warm. And preferably happy. Serenity knows, there's little enough happiness to go around.
That's the rub. I should be more enjoying of Simon's admission that I've caused him trouble; ruffling the spoiled and haughty has always been a special joy for me. But the fact is, he's one of mine now to the point that I know that those qualities are just his armor, like Zoe's dourness or Jayne's rudeness. All ribbing and insult-trading in the mix, I want mine to be happy. Simon is not, and it ain't all about River. Man had to turn back a perfectly good compliment, all prickly and barbed, and I let him do it. Ta ma de, I'm gonna leave my comfortable chair over this.
I'm stalking back to the infirmary when I round a corner right into Simon coming my way, resulting in stumbling and various exclamations. I put out a hand to steady us both and take a step back, having discovered in the accident what his hair smells like. "Doc. I was just heading back to see you."
His brow furrows. "Do you need a shot? I can go and get…"
I realize my error immediately. I start again. "Simon. Let me buy you a cup of tea. Ship's doctor can take a break now and again."
"Oh. Good. I was coming to talk to you."
I sweep my hand grandly to the mess, trying to make him crack a smile. It doesn't work, but he ducks in ahead of me. I busy myself making the tea, my secret blend of spirit-lifting stuff, wondering which of us will speak first. The silence isn't uncomfortable, but Simon is. By the time the tea is steeping, I've lost patience. "Well then, what were you needing?" I ask, cleverly tagging him "it."
"Before, you were trying to be nice, I think, and I… was unkind."
I snort. "Might be that me trying to be nice is such a rare event as to take you unawares." That does make him smile, and oh, ship of mine, how that lights his face. "There," I say, and it comes out embarrassingly warm and rumbly, "that's what I was coming back for. I found myself pondering the question, 'Why doesn't Simon smile more?'"
"Life is serious, Captain."
"Captain's on break too," I lie. I'm always Captain, I never put it down, even asleep, but no way is this conversation going anywhere happy with titles being exchanged. I raise my cup to him and say, "Your point is taken. Of course life is serious. Nearly dying again has put me in mind that it's also fun and sweet. Like Kaylee lives it."
"Kaylee is blessed with the inability to look very far ahead," Simon says wryly. "My mind doesn't work that way."
"Nor mine." I hand him a cup. This small banter is giving me time to observe my reactions to having Simon near, not doctoring me and not being decked by me. I find I like it. "I can't figure out why on Earth-that-was you don’t bed that girl and borrow her blessing from time to time."
Simon flushes slowly. "You mean, besides your precise orders that crew don't… mingle."
"Are you meaning to tell me you actually regard that rule?" My astonishment is real, by the way. "It's the only one I allow to be broken--long as folks is discreet."
He looks outright shocked. I sip tea as I can see a flurry of thoughts engages his attention. I give him just a minute of quiet to ponder, then I say, mildly, "I suppose this wouldn't be the time to go telling tales, but suffice it to say that there are few combinations that haven't been tried." His eyes lock with mine, he wants to ask, somethin' fierce. I take another sip and hold his gaze. "Things being what they are, no one would believe they were putting anything over on me if I were participating, and it's far better they think I'd brig 'em if I found out. Keeps pouting and infighting to a minimum."
"So why let me in on the deep secret?" His voice is wobbly.
"You'll never tell. You keep close counsel."
He nods. The flush is starting to fade. "To answer your question about Kaylee, I'm surprised you haven't noticed that I prefer men." He sets his cup down. "It wouldn't be fair to her. I'm not blind to how she feels about me. If it were just a romp…" he shrugs.
"But we both know that breaking her heart would be the fastest way off my ship," I reply. "And no, I hadn't noticed. What did you think might make it obvious?"
"I don't know, actually." He smiles again. "I guess it just feels obvious. It's amazing River hasn't said anything in her ramblings."
I wonder what "anything" she might be privy to and think carefully about what next to say. Finally, it comes clear that the direct route is better. "Do you think little sister could keep up her amazing run of discretion if you were to come to my bunk in, say, twenty minutes?" I polish off my tea.
Again with the shock. I'm bracing for an uncomfortable next few months in the wake of rejection when something shifts and I see for the first time what Simon looks like wanting. His eyes, his mouth, his nostrils suddenly scenting the air, all communicate raw hunger. I definitely want to see more of it. He doesn't move or speak. He doesn't need to. I refill my cup and take my leave. I want to kiss him right then and there, but a person never knows who else might come following the smell of tea.
I decide to keep on all my clothes, leave the lights up, and just pace. There are a hundred things to worry about in the hundred years or so that pass before my door clicks open above. He climbs down and it's hard not to watch him carefully take every rung. When he turns to me, I fervently hope that nobody passed him in the hall because the look on his face would make even the good shepherd spring a hard on. His expression actually keeps me from grabbing him (which might be altogether the wrong approach in the circumstance anyhow).
"Did you very recently discover what's written all over your face or are you that good at hiding it?" I murmur.
He closes the few paces between us and stands so close his nose brushes my cheek. "I'm just that good," he replies and then my arms are full of Simon. I entirely forget to be wary of that bullet hole but Simon manages by snugging up to my good side, which has the decided advantage of planting my thigh between his legs and visa versa. It has been far too long since I've had even a good kiss, and he makes sure I recollect what a great kiss feels like and then he pushes on beyond that. He's strong and smooth and not the slightest bit girly. In my head, in Jayne's voice, I register surprise that our doc isn't even remotely soft or prissy up this close. There is nothing of submission about him. It makes me hotter to the point that noises rise up that I have to stifle.
"Oh, yeah," Simon breathes after breaking the kiss, "I want to hear you." His always-startling eyes are so close as to be blurry. One of his steady, sure hands closes over my cock, and through small clothes, shirt, and trousers, I feel every muscle of his fingers moving. He bites my neck. "How much noise can we get away with, Mal?" I nearly come right there and have to take a firm hold of his wrist to gain myself some space.
"I never put it to the test," I reply when I can breathe again. I ponder for a moment or two. "Think Zoe's the silent type in bed?"
Simon laughs, "Absolutely not."
"I reckon we have some leeway, then, considering that I never hear anything from next door. Well, excepting the occasional thump to the bulkhead. Could be a simple matter of furniture being moved for all I know."
His lips are back, and another minute later he says, "So don't stifle."
In the week since I recovered from his eventful birthday, I've worked up a scenario or two for my private amusement. Funny how in none of them was I not leading the dance. Funny how I prefer it his way. Don't misunderstand me, I'm giving as good as I get, but I'm not piloting. Simon doesn't seem to mind. He's gone back to palming me and I reward him with the sound he seems particular to.
We still have all our clothes on, a situation I'm now determined to remedy. I manage to drag his shirttail out of his trousers, discerning from his gasp that the incidental friction front and back is not unwelcome. The skin of his back is warm, soft, the skin low on his belly silky with hair that turns coarser the lower I go, taking care of buttons along the way.
His nimble fingers move to my shirt and before long he's got it off me, just as I get a solid grip on him. He groans, and his fingers dig into my chest. In the heat and damp, I work him, taking my cues from his voice without words. He leans into me and mouths my chest. I can feel him trembling now and I ease off a little, slowing down.
"Perfect," he breathes, shuddering. "That was close."
"I'm not overeager for this to end," I joke, nuzzling behind his ear. "But you near did me in just saying my name a bit ago. Thought turnabout to be fair play."
I'm talking, but most of my brain is involved with imagining how what I'm stroking would feel ramming into me. Not a position I generally volunteer to take, but wuh de ma, he has a beauty. My thoughts are still lingering with this idea when Simon slides out of my grasp and goes to his knees, my britches being opened in haste. There isn't much time to register that this is the very concept that started the whole wild ride I'm on before I find myself in Simon's mouth.
You would think that a man with a mouth full of cock couldn't speak without neglecting his charge, but Simon is rare talented. He says, "Umnn… I've been dreaming about this. I love the way you taste… I knew I would."
There is a dangerous feeling building, like it might kill me to come and I don't care. No one has ever loved blowing me as much as Simon openly and sincerely expresses right now. There isn't anyplace to lean and I'm wavering on my feet. "I gotta lie down or fall down," I gasp.
"Errmmm," he replies. "Back up." But he doesn't stop, doesn't let go, he follows me, on his knees, until I feel my bunk against my legs and then he pushes me back and down, rising above me, and now I can see him taking me in, lapping and lavishing. His hands seem to be everywhere. It's good enough to weep for and I'm holding back as hard as I can. "Let go," Simon says around a mouthful. "I want it."
"Now," I try to warn him, strangled though I am, but he doesn't take heed, and I'm blinded, in every possible sense of the concept, by what Simon has done to me. I tell him so in sounds if not words and hope not to need later retractions.
There's no speaking for a considerable period.
"I want…" and that's all I can manage.
Simon's mouth quirks after he's waited maybe a half-minute, but he doesn't break my silence.
"…to make you feel like that," I finally manage. It's a heroic effort to finish the statement. I take a few more breaths. "But some bastard doctor has removed my bones."
The laugh that provokes is such a reward. It's a freedom laugh, naked, something I've never heard from Simon. He leans back against the wall, curled a bit around me.
"There's time. Unless you want me to leave now that you're satisfied."
"Yeah? You can kiss both sides of my ass on the way out," I reply, not a little stung by the implication that I might be lacking in basic manners as a lover.
He smiles, undaunted. "Apparently, my use of humor is such a rare event as to catch you unawares."
That makes me chuckle. He's playing with my fingers, to which some semblance of feeling has finally returned. Then, he looks at me with very clear eyes. "What changed?"
I could tell him that nothing changed in me, just I saw something different in him--a possibility. It doesn't sound right in my head. "It was your birthday, our last near-death-day, that did it. Something Kaylee said put me in mind of… what you might be like."
"Did you think about me, before that?"
"Didn't allow myself, I suppose."
"Oh." His disappointment is a tangible thing; it breathes through the room.
I touch his leg because it's handy and it keeps me from touching other things in the midst of a serious moment. "Might be good to know about me that if something or someone is off limits to me, I generally don't fret it. It isn't about not wanting." Like pie. Difficult to explicate, especially without sounding sentimental. Then, it occurs to me. "Example. I do enjoy women from time to time, and I met Kaylee by walking in on her nailing a fellow near to death, but not for one second would I even play out a thought of being with her. Soon as I saw her smile, watched her touch Serenity's engine, I knew her for what she is and I became her protector. That's that."
"You're a hard man sometimes, Mal."
"I am at the moment."
"Again?" Simon appears downright delighted. But he is curious, a scientist, and can leave no stone unturned. "What did she say? I don't remember anything notable."
And then I can't resist any longer. I give Simon my best smile, the one I hope communicates that what I am about to say is meant in the most affectionate manner of which I'm capable, and that I'd like the truth not to end the new twist in our acquaintance. "Well, see… she said, 'C'mon, Doc, give a good blow.'"
*******
Author: Esmeralda
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Firefly
Pairing(s): Simon/Mal
Disclaimer: This is a work of impure fiction.
Warnings: M/M
Feedback: Constructive criticism is always welcome.
Original Date: November 2007 (posted in the_pretty_fits)
___________________________________________________________
Among the many distracting events of Simon's birthday--for instance, Serenity blowing her compression coil in a fireball, me nearly dying of a pirate-inflicted gunshot to the gut, and my crew misfollowing my orders in such a particular way as to leave me grateful for them disobeying me--it would be understandable to go and forget something that Kaylee never meant to plant in my head at all.
Thing is, just before everything started to go south magnificent-like (as if we were headed to hell tucked up in one of Inara's beaded handbags), just before that moment, Kaylee said that certain something so mind-altering it occurred to me nothing might ever be the same.
Despite that Kaylee's constantly in heat, the woman is such an innocent she lacks the guile in her to think up something like that and use it a'purpose. There was a quick, hot moment of revelation inside my head just before River said, softly, "Fire," and none of us had the sense to panic, and only Zoe had the presence of mind to act.
My engineer's words come back to me now that my crew is safe, my head has cleared, and Simon is once again causing me pain checking my wound.
"You could ask me, Doc, and I could tell you it's still there so you don't have to poke at it, unwrap it, and rewrap it to find out." Regardless of my sudden recall of the mind-altering thought, I can't keep from peeving at him.
He doesn't look at me, just gives that smarter-than-you bit of quirk-smile that usually calls to my fist, and keeps on wrapping. His hands are warm as they smooth the edges back in place. I reach out and touch one, just a tap really, but he startles back. I tell him, more sternly than I mean, "Understand that you're in precious small company that I hold still for you to cause me pain. Most people absorb considerable trouble for that privilege."
For a moment, Simon seems at a loss, his features softening as his instincts take in the sidelong compliment. But right quick he covers up. "I have absorbed considerable trouble," he says sharply, and turns away.
He speaks only truth there. I nod and smile, though he can't see it. "You have at that." I swing my legs off the table and make myself scarce. It's timely, because what Kaylee said is working with the moment of softness in Simon's expression to render my britches tighter than is precisely comfortable. They don't get more comfortable until I'm safely at the helm, boots up, distracted by the colors of atmo at moonrise. Inara's likely not to be back until morning, and we're safely stocked and stowed. I've got nothing I need to be doing for a change.
I'm a man of disciplined appetites. People take note of it, but I can't credit it, don't take pride in it. I've always been like that. When Ma said to five-year-old me that my little sister could have new boots if I didn't ask for pie at every supper, I quit asking for pie. Doesn't mean I didn't want pie. Hardship really don't trouble me as long as those I love are safe and warm. And preferably happy. Serenity knows, there's little enough happiness to go around.
That's the rub. I should be more enjoying of Simon's admission that I've caused him trouble; ruffling the spoiled and haughty has always been a special joy for me. But the fact is, he's one of mine now to the point that I know that those qualities are just his armor, like Zoe's dourness or Jayne's rudeness. All ribbing and insult-trading in the mix, I want mine to be happy. Simon is not, and it ain't all about River. Man had to turn back a perfectly good compliment, all prickly and barbed, and I let him do it. Ta ma de, I'm gonna leave my comfortable chair over this.
I'm stalking back to the infirmary when I round a corner right into Simon coming my way, resulting in stumbling and various exclamations. I put out a hand to steady us both and take a step back, having discovered in the accident what his hair smells like. "Doc. I was just heading back to see you."
His brow furrows. "Do you need a shot? I can go and get…"
I realize my error immediately. I start again. "Simon. Let me buy you a cup of tea. Ship's doctor can take a break now and again."
"Oh. Good. I was coming to talk to you."
I sweep my hand grandly to the mess, trying to make him crack a smile. It doesn't work, but he ducks in ahead of me. I busy myself making the tea, my secret blend of spirit-lifting stuff, wondering which of us will speak first. The silence isn't uncomfortable, but Simon is. By the time the tea is steeping, I've lost patience. "Well then, what were you needing?" I ask, cleverly tagging him "it."
"Before, you were trying to be nice, I think, and I… was unkind."
I snort. "Might be that me trying to be nice is such a rare event as to take you unawares." That does make him smile, and oh, ship of mine, how that lights his face. "There," I say, and it comes out embarrassingly warm and rumbly, "that's what I was coming back for. I found myself pondering the question, 'Why doesn't Simon smile more?'"
"Life is serious, Captain."
"Captain's on break too," I lie. I'm always Captain, I never put it down, even asleep, but no way is this conversation going anywhere happy with titles being exchanged. I raise my cup to him and say, "Your point is taken. Of course life is serious. Nearly dying again has put me in mind that it's also fun and sweet. Like Kaylee lives it."
"Kaylee is blessed with the inability to look very far ahead," Simon says wryly. "My mind doesn't work that way."
"Nor mine." I hand him a cup. This small banter is giving me time to observe my reactions to having Simon near, not doctoring me and not being decked by me. I find I like it. "I can't figure out why on Earth-that-was you don’t bed that girl and borrow her blessing from time to time."
Simon flushes slowly. "You mean, besides your precise orders that crew don't… mingle."
"Are you meaning to tell me you actually regard that rule?" My astonishment is real, by the way. "It's the only one I allow to be broken--long as folks is discreet."
He looks outright shocked. I sip tea as I can see a flurry of thoughts engages his attention. I give him just a minute of quiet to ponder, then I say, mildly, "I suppose this wouldn't be the time to go telling tales, but suffice it to say that there are few combinations that haven't been tried." His eyes lock with mine, he wants to ask, somethin' fierce. I take another sip and hold his gaze. "Things being what they are, no one would believe they were putting anything over on me if I were participating, and it's far better they think I'd brig 'em if I found out. Keeps pouting and infighting to a minimum."
"So why let me in on the deep secret?" His voice is wobbly.
"You'll never tell. You keep close counsel."
He nods. The flush is starting to fade. "To answer your question about Kaylee, I'm surprised you haven't noticed that I prefer men." He sets his cup down. "It wouldn't be fair to her. I'm not blind to how she feels about me. If it were just a romp…" he shrugs.
"But we both know that breaking her heart would be the fastest way off my ship," I reply. "And no, I hadn't noticed. What did you think might make it obvious?"
"I don't know, actually." He smiles again. "I guess it just feels obvious. It's amazing River hasn't said anything in her ramblings."
I wonder what "anything" she might be privy to and think carefully about what next to say. Finally, it comes clear that the direct route is better. "Do you think little sister could keep up her amazing run of discretion if you were to come to my bunk in, say, twenty minutes?" I polish off my tea.
Again with the shock. I'm bracing for an uncomfortable next few months in the wake of rejection when something shifts and I see for the first time what Simon looks like wanting. His eyes, his mouth, his nostrils suddenly scenting the air, all communicate raw hunger. I definitely want to see more of it. He doesn't move or speak. He doesn't need to. I refill my cup and take my leave. I want to kiss him right then and there, but a person never knows who else might come following the smell of tea.
I decide to keep on all my clothes, leave the lights up, and just pace. There are a hundred things to worry about in the hundred years or so that pass before my door clicks open above. He climbs down and it's hard not to watch him carefully take every rung. When he turns to me, I fervently hope that nobody passed him in the hall because the look on his face would make even the good shepherd spring a hard on. His expression actually keeps me from grabbing him (which might be altogether the wrong approach in the circumstance anyhow).
"Did you very recently discover what's written all over your face or are you that good at hiding it?" I murmur.
He closes the few paces between us and stands so close his nose brushes my cheek. "I'm just that good," he replies and then my arms are full of Simon. I entirely forget to be wary of that bullet hole but Simon manages by snugging up to my good side, which has the decided advantage of planting my thigh between his legs and visa versa. It has been far too long since I've had even a good kiss, and he makes sure I recollect what a great kiss feels like and then he pushes on beyond that. He's strong and smooth and not the slightest bit girly. In my head, in Jayne's voice, I register surprise that our doc isn't even remotely soft or prissy up this close. There is nothing of submission about him. It makes me hotter to the point that noises rise up that I have to stifle.
"Oh, yeah," Simon breathes after breaking the kiss, "I want to hear you." His always-startling eyes are so close as to be blurry. One of his steady, sure hands closes over my cock, and through small clothes, shirt, and trousers, I feel every muscle of his fingers moving. He bites my neck. "How much noise can we get away with, Mal?" I nearly come right there and have to take a firm hold of his wrist to gain myself some space.
"I never put it to the test," I reply when I can breathe again. I ponder for a moment or two. "Think Zoe's the silent type in bed?"
Simon laughs, "Absolutely not."
"I reckon we have some leeway, then, considering that I never hear anything from next door. Well, excepting the occasional thump to the bulkhead. Could be a simple matter of furniture being moved for all I know."
His lips are back, and another minute later he says, "So don't stifle."
In the week since I recovered from his eventful birthday, I've worked up a scenario or two for my private amusement. Funny how in none of them was I not leading the dance. Funny how I prefer it his way. Don't misunderstand me, I'm giving as good as I get, but I'm not piloting. Simon doesn't seem to mind. He's gone back to palming me and I reward him with the sound he seems particular to.
We still have all our clothes on, a situation I'm now determined to remedy. I manage to drag his shirttail out of his trousers, discerning from his gasp that the incidental friction front and back is not unwelcome. The skin of his back is warm, soft, the skin low on his belly silky with hair that turns coarser the lower I go, taking care of buttons along the way.
His nimble fingers move to my shirt and before long he's got it off me, just as I get a solid grip on him. He groans, and his fingers dig into my chest. In the heat and damp, I work him, taking my cues from his voice without words. He leans into me and mouths my chest. I can feel him trembling now and I ease off a little, slowing down.
"Perfect," he breathes, shuddering. "That was close."
"I'm not overeager for this to end," I joke, nuzzling behind his ear. "But you near did me in just saying my name a bit ago. Thought turnabout to be fair play."
I'm talking, but most of my brain is involved with imagining how what I'm stroking would feel ramming into me. Not a position I generally volunteer to take, but wuh de ma, he has a beauty. My thoughts are still lingering with this idea when Simon slides out of my grasp and goes to his knees, my britches being opened in haste. There isn't much time to register that this is the very concept that started the whole wild ride I'm on before I find myself in Simon's mouth.
You would think that a man with a mouth full of cock couldn't speak without neglecting his charge, but Simon is rare talented. He says, "Umnn… I've been dreaming about this. I love the way you taste… I knew I would."
There is a dangerous feeling building, like it might kill me to come and I don't care. No one has ever loved blowing me as much as Simon openly and sincerely expresses right now. There isn't anyplace to lean and I'm wavering on my feet. "I gotta lie down or fall down," I gasp.
"Errmmm," he replies. "Back up." But he doesn't stop, doesn't let go, he follows me, on his knees, until I feel my bunk against my legs and then he pushes me back and down, rising above me, and now I can see him taking me in, lapping and lavishing. His hands seem to be everywhere. It's good enough to weep for and I'm holding back as hard as I can. "Let go," Simon says around a mouthful. "I want it."
"Now," I try to warn him, strangled though I am, but he doesn't take heed, and I'm blinded, in every possible sense of the concept, by what Simon has done to me. I tell him so in sounds if not words and hope not to need later retractions.
There's no speaking for a considerable period.
"I want…" and that's all I can manage.
Simon's mouth quirks after he's waited maybe a half-minute, but he doesn't break my silence.
"…to make you feel like that," I finally manage. It's a heroic effort to finish the statement. I take a few more breaths. "But some bastard doctor has removed my bones."
The laugh that provokes is such a reward. It's a freedom laugh, naked, something I've never heard from Simon. He leans back against the wall, curled a bit around me.
"There's time. Unless you want me to leave now that you're satisfied."
"Yeah? You can kiss both sides of my ass on the way out," I reply, not a little stung by the implication that I might be lacking in basic manners as a lover.
He smiles, undaunted. "Apparently, my use of humor is such a rare event as to catch you unawares."
That makes me chuckle. He's playing with my fingers, to which some semblance of feeling has finally returned. Then, he looks at me with very clear eyes. "What changed?"
I could tell him that nothing changed in me, just I saw something different in him--a possibility. It doesn't sound right in my head. "It was your birthday, our last near-death-day, that did it. Something Kaylee said put me in mind of… what you might be like."
"Did you think about me, before that?"
"Didn't allow myself, I suppose."
"Oh." His disappointment is a tangible thing; it breathes through the room.
I touch his leg because it's handy and it keeps me from touching other things in the midst of a serious moment. "Might be good to know about me that if something or someone is off limits to me, I generally don't fret it. It isn't about not wanting." Like pie. Difficult to explicate, especially without sounding sentimental. Then, it occurs to me. "Example. I do enjoy women from time to time, and I met Kaylee by walking in on her nailing a fellow near to death, but not for one second would I even play out a thought of being with her. Soon as I saw her smile, watched her touch Serenity's engine, I knew her for what she is and I became her protector. That's that."
"You're a hard man sometimes, Mal."
"I am at the moment."
"Again?" Simon appears downright delighted. But he is curious, a scientist, and can leave no stone unturned. "What did she say? I don't remember anything notable."
And then I can't resist any longer. I give Simon my best smile, the one I hope communicates that what I am about to say is meant in the most affectionate manner of which I'm capable, and that I'd like the truth not to end the new twist in our acquaintance. "Well, see… she said, 'C'mon, Doc, give a good blow.'"
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