home * fandoms * firefly * bottom WARNING: If you haven't read the warning on the index page, go back and read it. If you don't, and you don't like what you find here, don't come crying to me. Title: Seven Seeds Author: Eleanor K. Fandom: Firefly Pairing: Mal/Simon Rating: PG-13 Posted: 26 Feb 2003 Spoilers: War Stories and minor for Our Mrs. Reynolds. Email: emungere@gmail.com The series: Fuzzy, Tokens, Intersections, The Widening Gyre, The Empty Sky, No Quarter, Off the Map, Seven Seeds. Disclaimer: And Joss said, "Let there be Firefly." Notes: for Cab, 'cause she's my big damn hero. ..___.. It is the evening of their first day on Persephone, and Simon is doing what he has been doing for the past two days--hiding in his room. The teasing has been mostly good natured, and he suspects he is taking it better than Mal is, but if he has to hear one more comment from Jayne about making the captain a much better wife than 'that little whore Saffron' did, he is going to say something regrettable. So he's hiding in his room, reading. Pretending to read. He is waiting for Mal and hasn't, in fact, turned a page for the last hour. When the knock finally comes, he almost jumps. "Come in." Mal steps inside, wearing the same awful suit he wore to that party the last time they were on Persephone. It's nearly as bad as Kaylee's dress was, and Simon had uncharitable thoughts about both the suit and the man wearing it at the time. Now, though... There's something about the combination of Mal's awkward stance, the sheer tackiness of the tie, and the anxiety that Mal isn't even trying to conceal. "You really haven't done this before, have you?" "Nope." Mal's eyes flick around the room and come to rest in the vicinity of Simon's shoes. "Got you these." Mal thrusts a bunch of white roses toward him, and Simon takes them slowly. He runs his hand over them, the cool velvet feel of the petals tickling his palm. "My mother used to grow these." At least his mother's gardener did, and he remembers his mother, in long gloves to protect her arms from the thorns, choosing which blooms would grace their dinner table. "They were her favorites." He raises his eyes from the roses to find Mal looking at him. "You like them?" It should be funny, the worry in Mal's voice over a bunch of flowers. Jayne, to pick a name at random, would find it hilarious. Simon feels only a wash of tenderness so strong he has to look away for a moment. He buries his face against the cool blossoms, drowning in their scent. "They're lovely," he says. "Thank you." "They ought to be. They cost enough." Simon's mouth twitches in an aborted smile. That is the Mal he's come to know and love. "You shouldn't have wasted your money." Mal blinks. "It wasn't wasted." He blows out a breath, shaking his head once, sharply. "Shit, Simon, I'm sorry. I did tell you I wouldn't be any good at this. Guess I might be a bit on edge." Oh, sure. Just a bit. "Maybe we can do something about that." Mal smiles a little as Simon steps closer. "What, you gonna give me a tranq or something?" "Better." The kiss is better. Maybe better than any that went before it. Those always had the flavor of despair and desperation to Simon, but this is slow and peaceful. The scent of roses drifts up from the bouquet crushed between them. Mal looks at him as they part, his hand brushing down Simon's cheek to rest on his neck for a moment. He opens his mouth and closes it again quickly, glancing away. "Nice," Mal says, at last. "Do that for all your patients?" "What was that you said about trying not to be an asshole?" Mal sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "Sad part is, I am trying. This might go smoother if you just ignore everything that comes out of my mouth until we're off the ship. They're all waiting for us in the cargo bay, you know." He hadn't known that, but he should have expected it. He smiles up at Mal and sets the roses aside. Mal really is on edge, and that Simon didn't expect. Now is probably not the time to go searching for a vase, or even to get a glass of water. "Let's go run the gauntlet, then." Simon pulls on his jacket and lets himself be steered out of his room by Mal's light touch on his back. Most of the crew seems to be innocently employed in the cargo bay as they pass through. Wash looks up, grinning. "Hey, Doc, you have him back by ten, you hear? He gets into all sorts of trouble if you let him stay out too late. Frequenting seedy establishments and such." Jayne snickers. "Yeah. And you're gonna call if you decide to shack up somewhere for the night, right? 'Cause you know we'd worry." Simon sees Zoe turn away, hand covering her mouth, and looks at Mal in time to catch the evil look he's throwing her. "You two have fun now!" Kaylee calls after them. Then they are outside under a darkening sky, fading to twilight over buildings tall enough to hide the sunset. After growing up in the Core, Simon thinks he shouldn't feel so uncomfortable surrounded by steel and concrete and carbon polymer, but as the buildings loom like cliffs on either side of them he finds himself missing the fringe worlds. Out there you can see to the horizon, and somewhere along the way he got used to that. "Where are we going?" he asks Mal, trying to distract himself from absurd claustrophobia, a sense of pressure he never has aboard the ship, though he is far more shut in there. Mal gestures ahead of them at what is presumably a restaurant of some kind. Greasy smoke streams from the stovepipe, and greasy meat rotates in the window. "Harga's House of Ribs," he says. "You're not serious." "No, unfortunately I'm not. Some fancy place. Not far from here." "Do you think you could be a bit more specific?" He gets no answer. "Mal?" Mal is looking around at the shops that line the street, ignoring him. "Mal?" "What?" "The restaurant?" Mal stops and looks around once more and then looks back at Simon. "Think I kind of forgot the name." "The name of the restaurant." "Yeah." "At which you made reservations, presumably just earlier today." "That would be the one." "I see." Somehow Simon keeps himself from laughing at the sheepish look on Mal's face. "Why don't we just walk for a while? Maybe you'll recognize it." Mal sighs. "Yeah." They slide back into the crowd of evening shoppers. After a moment, Simon feels Mal's hand at the small of his back. He smiles at the touch and moves nearer. He thinks abruptly of how they must look to the people around them: a couple. Happy together. Maybe even in love. He looks down at the dirty pavement and wonders where he and River will go tomorrow, if he will walk down this same street with a guiding hand on her back and what these same people will think of them. The longer they walk, the more the crowd thins. By the time they reach a small park, the sky is dark and flecked with stars and they are nearly alone. The park isn't that far from where they started, but they have covered the surrounding area for several blocks in every direction. Mal has shown no signs of recognizing anything at all, and Simon is just as glad. The walk, the people, the sights have, for the most part, kept him from thinking too much. And, when he considers it, the thought of sitting across a table from Mal and watching him fidget for an hour does not appeal. This is better. They wander toward a small river and turn onto the path that runs beside it. The path runs across a bridge and Mal stops in the middle of it, leaning against the balustrade. Simon does the same, and Mal's hand settles over his. He watches the dark water rushing past beneath them. "I think we've missed the reservations," Mal says finally. "Harga's House of Ribs it is, then." He hears Mal's snort of laughter. "You sure about that, Doc? Might be more than you want to get into." "As long as none of the ribs belonged to anything named Fluffy or Spot, I'll be fine." They straighten up, facing each other, and Mal's smile gentles as he looks at Simon. "This was supposed to be..." He shrugs. "Supposed to be is seldom what is." Supposed to be. River safe at home and stunning the universe with her genius, their father proud of them both, Simon working at the hospital, doing what he'd planned to do all his life; this is the way it was supposed to be. It all comes back in a rush, and he has to turn away, suddenly blinking back tears. Is there something, he asks silently, that I did to deserve all this? I don't remember doing anything so wrong. Mal's arms come around his waist, holding him close, and Mal's chin rests on his shoulder. The words spoken in his ear are quiet and halting. "Sometimes...it ain't so bad. Even if it's not quite what we thought it would be. You know, life. Sometimes it turns out okay." Mal's body is warm and solid behind him, hair just brushing Simon's temple, and right now, for this one moment, everything is okay. He leans back into the embrace and tries not to think about tomorrow. *** After picking up a large greasy bag, they settle on the grass next to the river. Mal pulls out a candle and lights it. "Where did that come from?" "Same place the ribs did," Mal says. "You stole it from one of the tables, didn't you." It's not a question. He doesn't have to ask. Mal grins. "Borrowed. I'll return it on the way back, promise." Simon can't help smiling back. "So, we've got the flowers and the candles--" "Candle." "Right. Does your concept of a proper date include anything else that you'd like to warn me about in advance?" "We'll see," Mal says, giving him a look that he doesn't quite know how to interpret. They eat in near silence, the greenery and the sound of water muffling the noise of the city. Simon is trying to clean himself up with a napkin the consistency of newspaper when Mal catches his hand. Simon looks at him inquiringly and stops breathing as Mal smiles at him and takes one finger in his mouth, licking and sucking it clean. Then he goes on to the next. By the time he's done, Simon's resistance is completely shot, and he makes no protest when he is rolled to the ground. Mal cradles his head with one hand, the other pulling at his shirt. The kiss tastes like barbeque sauce and cheap wine, and Simon can't get enough of it. Mal's hand is hot on the skin of his stomach. "Well, well, well," says a voice above them. "Isn't this cozy." Mal freezes above him. Simon knows that voice. It goes with a bad suit and a worse hat. Mal rolls off and sits up. "Badger. Got a job for me, or should I just shoot you where you stand?" "Got a job, but not for you. You are the job. Got a guy wants to meet with you. Hired me and my boys to make sure you get there." "And you came to hand deliver the engraved invitation?" Simon says before he can stop himself. "I wasn't aware you were running a messenger service. What are your rates?" Badger looks confused for a second and then turns back to Mal. "Boy's got a mouth on him. Is that why you keep him around?" Mal leans back on his hands. "Bet I could kick you in the nuts from here before your goons could shoot me." "Goons?" Simon asks. He doesn't see anyone but the three of them. "Oh, Badger always has goons, don't you, Badger?" Badger smiles. "Come on out, boys." The boys in question are both older than Mal and much better armed, especially after one of them takes Mal's gun. "Up," Badger says. "Time for your meeting." Simon looks at Mal, who nods. They both stand, and Simon picks up the bag and the candle. "Leave that fei-oo. Come on." "Littering is against the law," Simon says mildly. Mal gives him an odd look, but goes along with it. "And you know what decent law-abiding folk we are." "Fine," Badger snarls. "Bring it then. We're gonna be late." Mal and Simon fall in side by side, Badger in front, the goons in back. "He looks nervous," Simon says, loudly enough for Badger to hear. "He does at that. Wonder what he's got to be nervous about." "I'd say he's afraid." "Oh, yeah?" Mal says conversationally. "Of what?" "Either you or who we're going to see." Badger spins around and points a finger at both of them. "Shut it, both of you! He didn't say I had to bring you intact." Simon leans in close to Mal as they start walking again. "It's too much to hope that he's afraid of you, isn't it?" "Yup." "Do you have any idea who we're going to see?" "Nope." They are starting to walk through streets that are more and more empty of people now, and more full of garbage. Empty bottles clink against each other, pushed by the wind funneled between the buildings. More of the streetlights are broken here, and windows as well. Mal nods toward the candle Simon is carrying. "Did you have a plan for that? 'Cause I'm thinking now would be a good time." Simon drops the heavy glass votive in Mal's coat pocket. "You're still returning it. I can take you being a thief, but not a petty thief." "No plan, huh?" "You're the captain here." "Man insists on taking along a candle and a bag full of pig bones, I'm inclined to think he's got some use for them." "I didn't want to leave them in the park," Simon mumbles. Mal gives him a questioning look. "Look, the planets you're used to, you can dump a *body* and no one notices. On Osiris you couldn't drop a candy wrapper without being picked up two minutes later and fined five hundred credits for littering." Mal stares at him for a second and then turns his face away, shoulders shaking. Simon smacks his arm. "Jerk. It was all those surveillance cameras. They always made me feel...uncomfortable somehow." Mal gets himself under control enough to say, "Guess they would, especially now," before being overwhelmed by silent laughter again. Simon would like to respond that he's hardly the only wanted man around here, but mentioning that he has a bounty on his head in front of Badger strikes him as a bad idea. He ignores Mal and looks up at the sky. No cameras here, and that is a relief. All the Core planets have them. When he was a child and asked what those black cubes were that they saw everywhere, his father had told him, had said they were there to keep everyone safe, but Simon had been appalled. He'd refused to leave the house for an entire week. The feeling of horror at someone watching his every move never entirely faded, but he didn't realize how much he'd hated it until he looked for them on Persephone--he always looked, had to know where they were--and saw none. A hand on his shoulder jerks him to a halt at the same time that Badger says, "This is it, gentlemen." Simon shrugs off the goon's hand and follows Mal through the door Badger is holding open. It shuts behind them with a thud. The lights come up and reveal a man sitting at a table. The man nods to them. "Captain Reynolds." "Viktor." Mal raises an eyebrow. "Kind of thought I killed you." "I am resilient. One has to be to last as long as I did with Mr. Niska." "Resilient maybe, but not too bright. Two of us, one of you. Badger returned my gun before he let us in here. I didn't offer him money or anything. I think he just doesn't like you." "I told him to, in fact. Please sit down, Captain. And your...friend, too, of course." He nods to Simon. "Hard to forget a man who throws body parts at you, but I didn't catch your name." "Simon," Mal answers for him. "Simon...?" "Just Simon." "I see." Viktor smiles thinly. "And what does Just Simon do on your ship, Captain?" "He's our cook," Mal says, straight-faced. "Damn good one, too." Mal sits across from Viktor, and Simon does the same. "I see. If you don't want him in on this, I can have Badger take him back to your ship." "Since I don't trust Badger as far as I could throw him, I think I'll pass on that." "Very wise of you. Then let's get down to business. You killed my employer." "Yup." "I've taken over from him. What are your intentions toward me?" "Well, I ain't planning to make an honest man of you, if that's what you're talking about." Viktor taps his fingers on the table, looking at the opposite wall. He speaks slowly, as if choosing his words one at a time. "Everything I hear about you tells me you are a decent man, Captain, and there are few enough of those in your profession. I'm asking you outright because I think you'll give me a straight answer--are you planning to kill me as well?" Simon has been trying to look around surreptitiously, to see if there's any way out of here other than the door Badger and his goons are no doubt guarding. He looks back to Viktor at the question, but as he does, he catches movement in the shadows. Mal was wrong. They are not alone here. Viktor could kill them any time he wants to, which means there must be some reason why he doesn't want to. Simon looks first at Mal, who still hasn't answered, and then across the table. "You have a job for us." Viktor glances at him and then back to Mal. "Your cook's pretty quick on the uptake, Captain." "If you're not looking to torture me, then I'm not looking to kill you. But as I recall, the last job I took with your bunch nearly punched my ticket for good. Doesn't incline me hook up with you again." Viktor's mouth tightens at the mention of torture, and he speaks without meeting Mal's eyes. "Toward the end, Mr. Niska ran his business primarily to give him fodder and excuse for his...hobby. I have no interest in torture, Captain, and no interest in setting you up to do a job I know you'll feel compelled to back out of." Simon has wondered before if Niska hadn't intended Mal to return the medicine all along. He could easily have found someone else for a job like that. Someone not so decent. "Okay," Mal says slowly. "Supposing I believe you, it still don't mean I'd trust any job you offer me. I killed your boss." Viktor shrugs. "You just happened to get to him first. I could see it coming even if he couldn't. I'm not interested in revenge, Captain. I'm interested in business. I hear you knocked over that hospital on Ariel. Impressive work." "I won't work on the Core planets. That was an exception I don't plan to make twice." "It's not in the Core. It's on Eos, and it pays fifty thousand, and that's all I can tell you unless you agree to take it." There aren't little cartoon dollar signs in Mal's eyes, but Simon is thinking that there might as well be. He also thinks it's a good thing Jayne's not here. The idea of fifty thousand credits would just get him overexcited, and he'd probably shoot someone out of sheer exuberance. "Well now," Mal says, calming down a bit, "I'd have to be pretty stupid to take a job that pays that kind of money without knowing the first thing about it." "Maybe. Never said I thought you were the smartest guy in the 'verse, Captain. I do think you're the man for the job, though. Think about it. It's nothing you'll have a problem with. You might even approve." Viktor stands. "If there's one thing working for Mr. Niska taught me, it's how to match the job to the man. I'll send Badger by your ship tomorrow for an answer. Think about it." He walks into the shadows and out through a door on the far side of the room. Simon can see his men by the light from the open door as they follow him out. He's surprised to see the man who was guarding Zoe's cell among them. He starts to mention it to Mal, but gets a hand over his mouth. Mal gives him a warning look: Wait until we're outside. He can do that. Outside they find Badger and his goons gone. "You think the room was bugged?" Simon asked. "Don't know. I don't trust that bastard. Didn't know what was gonna come out your mouth, either." Mal flashes him a quick smile. "Never do. So best he didn't hear it." "I was just going to say I recognized on of the men with him. The one you punched, the one who was guarding Zoe." Mal nods. "Yeah, I saw him, too. Weird." "Why weird?" Mal shrugs. "Wouldn't have thought he'd last long after screwing up like that." "Maybe Viktor wasn't looking for a scapegoat." "He ain't a nice guy, Simon. He's been with Niska for years." Simon opens his mouth to say he knows that, but stops just in time. Mal would want to know where he got that information, and Simon wouldn't be able to tell him without betraying Inara's secret. Mal still doesn't know why Viktor let Inara dock, and Inara wants to keep it that way. "I'm only saying that if he treated that man decently, maybe he'll do the same with you." It's weak, but he doesn't know what else to say. It's not as if he's trying to talk Mal into this, but on the other hand he doesn't want Mal to misjudge the situation. Viktor, not Niska, was the threat that the guards seemed to feel hanging over their heads. Misjudging him could be dangerous. Simon shrugs mentally. Mal will make up his own mind. "You could use the money," he says. This stops the conversation, as Simon suspected it would. The crew hasn't had a job since Ariel that has let them do more than scrape by. They walk on in silence. Simon realizes he's still carrying the bag containing the remains of their dinner and tosses it on the top of a pile of trash already spilling over its trashcan. Mal is leading them through the dim streets with a fair bit of confidence. Simon isn't sure this is the way they came, but is prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt...until they pass a certain trash can crowned with a bag from Harga's House of Ribs for the second time. "Mal." "What?" "We're lost." "I know exactly where we are." "So do I, because we've been by here twice already." Mal stops and sighs. "I'm gonna kill Badger one of these days." "This way." "Are you sure?" "I'm sure the way we were going was wrong. Is that close enough?" Mal shoots him an irritated look, but says nothing. They do eventually find a street they recognize, and from there it isn't far to the shopping district they were wandering earlier in the evening. On the way back to the ship, Mal ducks into Harga's to return the candle. He emerges with a bloody lip. "He knew I stole it," Mal mutters. "Just walked right up behind me and when I turned around, wham. Like I needed another split lip. And I can hear you trying not to laugh. Give it up before you bust something." Mal turns his head as he speaks, and the angle casts the glow of the streetlight over his face. Suddenly Simon doesn't feel like laughing any more. "Told him I only borrowed it," Mal is grumbling. "Guy has no sense of humor at all." He looks at Simon. "What?" Simon reaches up and brushes his fingers over Mal's cheek. The bruises from his second stint at Niska's hands have yet to fade. Longing comes over Simon so hard he feels it like an ache in his chest--just the simple desire to keep Mal safe. He wonders how Mal would react if he told him. He'd probably run a mile. Then Mal is backing him against the light post, hands framing his face and their cheeks rubbing together before their lips meet. Blood taste in his mouth, and all Simon can think is that Mal is going to have to stop kissing him when he's wounded, or Simon's going to develop some kind of kink. He grabs onto Mal's shirt and keeps his grip when Mal would back off, keeping him close a moment longer to kiss his jaw, his neck. "We should get back to the ship," he says, before Mal can. Mal just nods, but he reaches for Simon's hand and doesn't give it up until they're within sight of the spaceport. They walk into the cargo bay, and Simon watches Mal take Zoe in tow, talking about Viktor and fifty thousand credits, ignoring him completely. Jayne chuckles as Zoe and Mal head for the bridge. "Didn't even get a goodnight kiss, huh?" "It was...an unusual evening." "I'll bet. So, you think we're gonna get that fifty thousand?" Simon finally looks away from the door through which Mal vanished and frowns at Jayne. "How should I know?" "You're the one screwing him. Don't you know what's on his mind?" "Do you have the least idea how offensive you are?" "What? I just asked a simple question. If you don't want to answer, all you got to do is say." And really, it is much easier to answer than to explain why Jayne shouldn't have asked in the first place. Simon finds that he isn't offended anyway. His objection was routine. He is too used to Jayne's utter lack of tact to take offense where none was intended. In truth, sometimes it is a relief to be blunt. "I'm not screwing him. And no, as usual, I have no idea what's going on in his head." Jayne grunts. "We could use the money." Simon smiles suddenly. "That's what I said." He leaves Jayne looking surprised and goes to his room. The roses are on the bed where he left them, wilted, but still as soft and fragrant as before. He rubs a petal between thumb and forefinger and picks up the bouquet. Someone has left a vase filled with water on the table, and he submerges the stems, wondering who left it. He suspects Inara and wonders why she didn't put the roses in it herself. He wonders where Jayne got the idea that he and Mal are already...intimate. Screwing. Maybe screwing is a better word. They are already intimate, in a way. He wonders why he's not more upset that Mal took off to do captainy things without a word to him. He wonders how he can be so calm when he'll be leaving everything behind him again tomorrow for the second time in his life. He wonders why he hasn't yet told River. He goes next door to do just that, but she is sleeping peacefully, and that is still too rare an occurrence for him to disturb her. Back in his room, he undresses and gets in bed, but not with the intention of going to sleep. He doesn't expect to get much sleep tonight. It is perhaps an hour before his door slides open. Mal walks in without waiting to be invited, wearing his normal clothes again, looking as if the whole strange evening never happened. He closes the door behind him and stands still for a moment, outlined against the dim light coming from the hall. He holds out a piece of paper. "Names of some folks who might help you, here and on a couple other planets. They'll want paying, but everybody does. The underlined ones, you probably shouldn't mention my name when you talk to them." Simon reaches out to take it, but Mal pulls his hand back and, looking into Simon's eyes, rips the paper in half. "Said I wouldn't make it easy." Simon watches, not knowing how to reply, as Mal comes to sit on the edge of the bed. "Think I figured it out, finally," Mal says. "Why you're leaving." "Yes?" "Yeah. I wasn't in the top three percent of my class or nothing, but I get there eventually. You feel guilty about coming to--" Mal pauses, smiles, looking uncomfortable. "Rescue me," he finishes. "'Cause if you'd got yourself killed, who'd look after your sister." "Yes." Simon swallows hard and looks away. "It's stupid," Mal says. "What would you know about it? You have no idea how hard-- And she's still--" His throat closes up. He turns his face to the wall, hand fisted in the sheets. "I know about keeping the people I care for safe," Mal says quietly. "Serenity ain't the safest place in the 'verse maybe, but nowhere's for sure. Nowhere's certain. You could find some planet with not another human soul on it and maybe you'd get hit by lightening, and she'd still have to do without you. Only there, she'd be all alone." "I have to make sure she's all right," Simon whispers, more to himself than to Mal. "I have to." Mal's hand comes to rest on his back, stroking lightly. "I know it. You will. We will." "Our problems aren't your problems." "They are. Anyone of us could die anytime, Simon. Life ain't a certain thing. Here, she's got more than just you. You want to take that away from her?" Tears sting Simon's eyes, and he presses his hands against them until he sees stars. "Get out of here. Leave me alone." "Not on your life." The hand on Simon's back stays where it is. "It would be easier if we left. Easier for everyone." "Just recently I've found that the easiest way ain't always the best way." Simon jerks away from Mal's touch, knocks away the hand that reaches for him. "You throw that in my face after--" "I fight dirty. I'm right, and you know it." He does know it. Simon's anger deserts him and leaves him cold. His shoulders slump, and one tear overflows, burning a path down his cheek. "I need life to be certain, Mal. I need to believe that...if I do everything right... I have to be able to help her, or this was all--" "For nothing? She's out. She's safe. They're not hurting her." "She's still there, Mal. She's still there in her head so much of the time." He covers his face with his hands, hearing his voice shake, wanting so much not to break down. He has to keep going. He wants Mal to understand. "It's almost worse now, because she can feel it coming on, and there's nothing she can do to stop it." "I know it's bad." Mal's arm comes around Simon's shoulders, and Simon doesn't fight it. "I'll help all I can. You know that, right?" Yes. Mal would help anyone on his ship who needed it; that is not in question. Simon wonders fleetingly what would have happened if he'd said he needed Mal to be more to him than just his captain. It wasn't true then, but he thinks it might be now. He doesn't think it would be possible to live on Serenity and see Mal every day without being able to touch him, and even the thought of staying brings the fear that Mal would end up pushing him away again. "I need some time to think. Alone." "No." Simon opens his eyes, finally, looks at Mal's stubborn expression. "What do you mean no?" "I mean I ain't leaving you in here alone to brood and think up more reasons why you can't stay." "Until a few days ago I couldn't get you to stay in the same room with me for five minutes at a time. Now I can't get rid of you?" "You got it." He can feel his resolve crumbling, and he can't tell any more which is the right choice. He wants to stay, but he can't quite believe that anything he wants that badly can be right. "I don't know what to do," he hears himself whisper. Mal makes no reply, only stroking lightly up and down Simon's back. Simon almost expected him to push his case now, and his silent support is a relief. Simon leans into the touch until he is settled with his back against Mal's chest. Mal's arms come around his waist, just holding him. "I want to stay..." But. There's always a but. What about next time--what happens when the next situation they come across forces him to endanger himself, or River, or-- Life is uncertain. And River deserves a family who loves her, who will fight for her, and these people will do that. He feels a soft kiss pressed to the top of his head, and suddenly he is blinking back tears again for no reason he can name. He turns his head, asking silently for a kiss, and Mal's lips are on his immediately. So gentle, and he feels a plea in that kiss that he knows Mal won't say out loud again, because despite everything he's said, Mal is trying to make this easier for him. He breaks away just enough to speak. "Stay with me tonight." Mal pulls him close again. "Try and stop me." The mesh of their lips is almost too perfect, and Mal's hands are under Simon's shirt now. Simon has to take a breath, and he catches Mal's wrists. "Just to sleep." Mal kisses him once more and then draws back. "I got no problem with that." Mal stands, undressing slowly. He doesn't stop until he is stripped bare. Simon watches every movement. Mal smiles briefly as he meets Simon's eyes and then looks away. He climbs under the covers, and Simon feels a hand ghost over his hip. He catches and holds it as Mal's body settles against his. The decision comes from nowhere and from everywhere at once. "I'm not leaving," he says. They lie still for a moment, Mal's back against Simon's chest, but then Mal turns toward him, face against his neck, arms hooked over his shoulders, holding him close, grip painfully, crushingly tight for a moment. Hitched breath, lips against his throat. The grip eases, and he feels Mal relax, half on top of him and showing no sign of moving. He rests one hand on the curve of Mal's back, the other in his hair, combing through it with his fingers. Over and over, warm and soft, hypnotic. The quiet rise and fall of their breathing stills his mind, and Mal's heartbeat against his chest is something he didn't know until now he was struggling to live without. It's hard to let sleep come, to believe that this isn't the one and only time he'll be able to have this. Mal is snoring in his ear long before he allows his own eyes to close. ------- ..end.. Continue to Life in Itself. home * fandoms * firefly * top