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This is where the magic happens.
Most people will come in through Milliways and exit out the cargo bay to go have some fun. But some might need to take detours. And of course, some people live here.
Some people work here, too -- especially if they're working on repairs.
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And then it got late. And then (perhaps more to the point) she took a miniature fountain (or that's what it seemed like) of coolant to... everywhere. In stumbling back, she fell over -- knocking over a chest of tools (with four or five shelves) in the process, spilling the contents all over the deckplating.
During her (hour-long) shower, she had a good long cry.
And when she comes in, she drops the small basket with her soap and peripherals right by the door, hangs her towel on its hook, and bypasses what she's supposed to be doing (and ignores what he's supposed to be doing) in order to slip her arms around Simon (who's at the desk with some complicated diagram of somebody's guts or something in front of him) from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder.
"You smell good," she murmurs against his neck. "Hold still. No movin'."
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"So do you," he smiles. "Is that the citrus shampoo?"
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"You sound exhausted. Is the refitting work being that much trouble?"
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It's a wary glance that gets cast about the engine room, and Mal calls, "Anybody home?"
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One leather glove goes sailing in Dean's direction. It's aiming for his head. Kaylee doesn't look up.
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"I'm guessin' you have another one somewhere?"
He does not rock the Michael Jackson look, thank you very much.
"And hey--ain't like it's some burden on me getting to mess around with an engine."
An engine in a spaceship.
Dude, that's never gonna get old.
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And then something clanks to the floor. "Lièzhì qīngwā cào de liúmáng -- I swear -- "
Kaylee emerges from the depths of the cabinet, one hand on her hip, the other rubbing at her forehead.
Then her expression gets very, very fixed.
She withdraws, delicately, the other glove from its (appropriate) place, hanging on the door -- and rather than throw it over, she carries it over to where he's standing.
And says, calm, as she holds it out, "Please tell me that when I say we need to go get real drunk and raise at least tiny amounts of hell or play darts or somethin' after we're done here, you're on board with that. I'm buyin'."
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"Dude, like I'm gonna say no."
Please. Does she know him at all?
He smirks a little.
"You hittin' that stir-crazy part of fixing shit up?"
Because Dean totally hasn't, back with the Impala.
Nope. He has no idea what it's like.
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