He stood outside the shuttle doorway, his usual confidence sadly lacking. This ain't the way to do things, Malcolm, he said to himself. You ain't been like this since you went to ask Cally to the box social. Even though she slapped you right across the face. He had to smile a little. Should never’ve tried to kiss her too.

“Captain?” Kaylee called from down in the bay.

He glanced down. “Yeah?”

“You okay?”

“Shiny.”

“Only you been standing there a long time.”

“Didn’t realise anyone was timing me.”

“She’s in there.”

“Who?”

“Inara.”

“Who said I was –“

“Captain.”

He shrugged. “Well, maybe I was. Ain't you got some work to be getting on with?”

“Been doing it.” She smiled. “You’d better knock.” She waved at him, just the fingers of one hand, then wandered towards the infirmary.

Prob’ly gonna go sex up the doc, the thought ran through his mind. And tell him the captain’s standing like a fool outside his own shuttle.

He knocked.

“Ching gin.” Her voice, always surprising him with its lightness, wafted from inside the small vessel and did something to his ears.

He stepped inside. “Inara?”

She turned from the small Cortex screen set into the bulkhead, pulling the hanging across it as she did so. For once he didn’t feel odd that she was setting up clients and didn‘t want him to see, not if what River had said was true. It was just a natural action for her, covering over anything that intruded into the careful setting she had created.

“What can I do for you, Captain?” she asked, her chin lifting slightly, as if she was just waiting for him to say something unnecessarily harsh.

“I … ah … just thought you’d like to know we’ll be landing on Boros in about three hours.”

“Yes.”

“Plenty of time for you to make some plans. Pick up a few new acquaintances.”

“I … yes, I could.”

He looked at her, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders, her dress low and fitted. Only woman on board don’t mind showing some cleavage, and it … He stomped on the thought. “Only you ain’t exactly been busy lately.”

“Well, we’ve been out in the borders.”

“Remedy that here.”

He watched the soft tide of a blush rise up her creamy skin, and tried not to smile. Maybe River has the right of it.

She gathered herself. “Would you like some tea?” she asked, indicating the small galley. “I was just going to make some.”

“Oh … yeah. Please. That would … um … be nice.”

She looked surprised.

Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. I never accept tea. Well, maybe things are gonna change around here. He looked around the shuttle, at all the appurtenances of her profession. The red satin sofa, the brass-topped table, the row of candles he’d never seen lit, the cupboards set against the wall. Ain’t even gonna wonder what’s in them, he thought. What’d a woman like her need any kinda aid for anyway?

“Will you sit?” the woman in question asked.

“Oh, yeah, thanks.” He lowered himself carefully to the sofa, feeling like he might slide off at any moment. He watched her gather cups from one of those very cupboards, placing them on a small tray before going to heat the water. “You … you look very pretty today,” he managed to say. “You done something to your hair?”

The kettle clanged against the heating ring.

“I … no, it’s … thank you.”

Mal smiled. Something as simple as a compliment and it throws her. Maybe she ain’t used to the real thing. He put his head back on the sofa and closed his eyes, listening to her busying herself. He could imagine the caddy being opened, the spoon going inside to lift the fragrant leaves out, hot water being …

She carried the tray out into the main area, then stopped. He was asleep, his head back, those disconcerting blue eyes of his closed. Putting the tray down as quietly as possible, she crossed the rug to him. His mouth was slightly open, and she wondered if he snored. Carefully, gently so as not to wake him, she put her hands under his head and shoulders, laying him down on the sofa. She lifted his legs up, and he snuffled in his sleep. Over the last few months, he’d not slept properly, she knew that, keeping an eye on everyone, especially Zoe. It was his turn.

“Nx,” he muttered, crossing his arms but not waking.

He looked so sweet, all vulnerable and open, and Inara couldn’t help it. She bent down and pressed her lips onto his, just a fleeting kiss to taste him. She wondered why it always had to be when he was either asleep or unconscious. With a sigh she stood straight, taking her tea to sit on her bed so she could watch him without waking him.

His lips curved. Maybe that little albatross ain’t wrong after all, he considered, then let himself drift into dreams.