The real last of the “Sneaking Into…” series as it takes you somewhat directly to “Only You.” Light R-rating for the ending. Sorry to spoil it, but I have to for the kiddies. Comes immediately after ‘Fires and Fears.’ Uber much thanks to AgentOmega for the beta and the valuable insight into the male psyche. Many thanks to the commenters as well for the ideas and plot bunnies.

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Inara didn’t follow Mal right away. She was too stunned by the fact that he’d walked out of his own bunk. She’d pushed him too hard, too fast, and sent him running. Inara clutched the pillow, tears spilling over. She’d just given up her livelihood for this man. Her identity. He was the only anchor she had left and she’d chased him away. Too much, too soon? She should have just let the moment pass and watched the capture with him. Why did she stop him?! Inara picked up the capture where Mal had dropped it on the bed. She’d never seen one that old before. It looked like it had been through hell and back. Knowing Mal, it probably had. Tearfully, she set the capture on the bureau so it wouldn’t get damaged, then she climbed out of the bunk to go looking for Mal. It took her awhile to find him. Not on the bridge, the catwalk, or in the cargo bay. She finally gave up and returned to her shuttle, and that’s where she found him, pacing, hands running through his hair, eyes filled with fear and regret. “Mal,” she called tentatively, staying by the door. He froze, his eyes flashing like a deer in the headlights. Dark rings of sleeplessness shadowed his face. She realized that while she had spent the last two days resting and recuperating, he’d likely been lying awake waiting for her to come. The man was exhausted and in no condition for an emotionally trying conversation. “Not today,” he grunted, moving to leave. Inara took his hand as gently as she could while still stopping him. Whether he realized it or not, he’d come here because he knew it as a place of rest. “Not today,” she assured, temporarily shelving her own roiled emotions and guiding him back inside. “You need to rest.” “‘Nara, I – ” “No more talking,” she shushed, sitting him on the bed and cradling his face. “Not until you get some sleep.” “I’m on watch,” he stammered, shrugging in the general direction of the door. “Mal, you just ran from your bunk with no shoes and no gun. You need a break.” “I should go.” “Rest here tonight,” Inara insisted. “I’ll keep watch.” She wasn’t sure if he stayed sitting because he wanted to or because he was too tired to argue. He had a glazed, walking-dead look about him. Quietly, Inara lit some soothing incense, set an electric kettle to boil, and prepared a tray for tea. With what life was left in him, Mal gave a disapproving grunt of her use of ‘wiles’, but Inara knew of nothing more calming. She came over and massaged his neck, finding knots upon knots. No wonder he couldn’t relax! Cautiously, she worked toward his shoulders, pushing down the straps of his suspenders, but he caught her hand. “No,” he begged. With a nod, she replaced the straps, and continued kneading his taut muscles without disrupting his clothing. And finally, he understood her intentions. The tea kettle whistled and Inara poured a cup, only for Mal. When she turned to hand it to him, he had shed not only the suspenders, but his shirt as well. He sipped the tea slowly as she worked the tension from his muscles, letting the sweat, dust, and essence of him coat her hands. When he finished the drink, she laid him on his stomach and massaged his lower torso, down his legs, all the way to his feet. She peeled off his socks, taking a moment to wash his feet, as had been her specialty through so many years in the Guild. “‘Nara,” he murmured, his voice muffled by the pillow. “Shh. Just rest.” “I don’t deserve you.” Inara smiled sympathetically and sat by the pillow, smoothing the hair by his face. “Then consider me a gift.” A brief smile graced his features and then he drifted off. Inara pulled the comforter over him and kissing his hair, she whispered, “I love you, Mal.” She cleaned the teacup and kettle, all the while watching him sleep. Then she headed for the bridge and stayed watch until Zoë came in the morning. A brief conversation later, she climbed into Mal’s bunk, tidied the room, and found him some fresh clothes to wear. He was still sleeping in the shuttle when she checked on him after breakfast and again after lunch. Inara passed the time talking to Kaylee about her decision to leave the Guild and Mal’s strange behavior the night before. Having a more conventional dating history, her young friend had a lot of support, sympathy, and funny stories to offer. Near mid-afternoon, Inara went to the shuttle again, surprised that Mal was still out cold, having not even turned over in his twelve hours of sleep. She supposed his body was trained on the smaller bed. Gently, she sat next to him, stroking his cheek as he breathed slowly in and out. He stirred at her touch, sighing, but not opening his eyes, inhaling the scent on her pillow. When her fingers grazed his lips again, he kissed them lightly and rolled onto his side so she could cuddle against him. She did not. Eventually his eyelids eased open and he looked at her sleepily. Unlike most days, he did not break into a wide smile. He just blinked tiredly and a little guiltily, his eyes only slightly less weary than the night before. Inara said nothing. She just massaged him in long, smooth strokes, giving him the option of falling back asleep if he wanted. And for awhile, he just watched her. Finally, Mal inhaled loudly, and rolled onto his back. Taking both Inara’s hands, he pressed them to his heart. “Sorry about last night,” he rumbled huskily, forcing his voice to wakefulness. “Didn’t mean to strand you like that… I mean… you just made one of the hardest decisions of your life and there I go boltin’ out like a lunatic.” “Mal,” she interrupted, smiling at his ramble. He looked at her apologetically. “Just know… it’s not why I left.” She offered a smile that melted into wistful longing as he stood and changed into the fresh clothes she’d brought from his bunk. Next, he warmed water in her electric kettle, poured it into a basin before it could boil, and then splashed it on his face. It was one of his favorite tricks when he stayed in her shuttle because it was the only way outside of the shower or the kitchen he could get warm water in the morning. “It’s okay,” she whispered, sinking onto the couch. “No, it’s not okay,” he insisted, drying his face with a towel. “I shouldn’t be puttin’ you through the wringer like this.” “What wringer, Mal? It’s just sex. A ritual. A symbol,” she came up behind him, wrapping her hands around his waist, standing on tip toe so she could rest her chin on his shoulder. “If we never do it, I still have your love and that’s all I want.” Mal’s hand fell on hers and he tilted his head to the side so she could kiss his cheek. “I ain’t sayin’ that. It’s just … you deserve better ‘n me, ‘Nara.” “I choose you,” she assured and for a moment they rested, entwined in peace. Then Mal heaved a sigh of discontent, his head tipping backward, looking to the ceiling. He broke out of the embrace and crossed the room. “A Companion chooses all her clients, ‘Nara. Ain’t that what you always say?” Inara pursed her lips in frustration, but chided herself for feeding him a line. It was the line that always worked, only this time she meant it differently. She tried not to be cross and realized perhaps she should have grabbed a nap at some point while Mal was sleeping the day away. “Yes, a Companion chooses her clients,” Inara affirmed, putting distasteful emphasis on the words. “But you are not my client and I am not your Companion. You are the man I love and I want to know why you’re so afraid to touch me!” “I ain’t afraid!” he bellowed. “You want me to throw you on this bed and sex you up right now?!” “Yes!” “Well I ain’t gonna!” “Why?!” Inara nearly shrieked in frustration. “Why was it so easy for you with Saffron and with Nandi, but every time we get close, you run away?!” “You aren’t honestly putting yourself on par with Saffron?!” “I’m just trying to put myself in a category of someone you weren’t afraid to touch! You were on Nandi in the space of a day.” “She fought her way in!” Mal shouted, throwing his hands in the air. “She fought! And then…” The swell of his anger deflated like a leaky balloon. “And then she died,” he finished weakly. Inara’s heart leapt across the room to him, but her feet stayed planted. “You didn’t kill her.” “I wish I’d never met her.” He shook his head regretfully, the anger and volume of his voice building again. “I wish I didn’t let her get to me. I wish I could get that damn girl’s song out of my head, singin’ over her grave. And I wish… I wish I could stop seein’ your name scrawled across that headstone!” “Mal,” Inara whimpered, watching him deflate again. This time she crossed the room, putting her hands on his face, bringing their foreheads to touch. Mal rested his hands on her wrists as if that alone were holding them both present. “I have the same dream,” she confessed. “Every time you leave this ship, I worry you won’t come back. Just because we aren’t technically ‘lovers’ doesn’t mean we can protect ourselves from the hurt of that kind of loss.” “I know. And I ain’t tryin’ to.” “Then what? Tell me what to do! How can I touch you so you won’t run away? Tell me where the boundary is and I’ll stop there.” He broke away so his eyes could focus on hers, but didn’t drop hold of her wrists. “This ain’t some territorial dispute, ‘Nara. Why look for a boundary?” “Because when we kiss, I want to know that you’re stopping because you’re content with where we are. Not because you’re afraid of where we might go.” “It’s not,” he cried, his voice raised, but then he caught himself. With a breath, he relaxed his shoulders and started again in a calmer voice. “It’s not where we’re goin’. It’s what I’m doin’.” Inara smiled, misunderstanding. “Mal, I’m sure you know what you’re doing.” “That’s not what I mean,” he said, cupping her face with one hand. “I worry… that I’m hurting you. That I’m … spoiling you. So beautiful. So perfect.” “Mal, take me off this high pedestal so you can touch me!” “I don’t deserve you,” he repeated, pushing away. She gripped him tightly, not letting him escape, and pulled him back until their faces were touching again. “And I don’t deserve you,” she whispered urgently, tears catching in her eyelashes. “You are a gift to me. And I want only to be yours.” He pressed their cheeks together, so he could catch her tears. His skin was rough and unshaved. “You are worth far more than anything I can offer.” “Mal, I’m not a Companion anymore. I can’t be bought at any price. My worth can’t be measured in fortune or favors. I could choose to go anywhere. Lord knows, I’ve had sufficient offers. Comfortable life. Good society.” “Then why stay here?” “You! You have always seen me as priceless. And you’ve never tried to buy my company with anything less than my own freedom – and the promise that you’d never take it. I want to be priceless, Mal. I want to be your treasure. Because you are mine. Worth more to me than anything I could think to name. Mal, I love you.” Suddenly, Mal’s lips were pressed hard against hers, intense with relief, desire, and all the passion he’d been hesitant to let surface. She rested her own palms on his hands, fearful to let them roam on their own lest they scare him away. Her mind flashed briefly through every interlude where he’d pulled her hands off him and backed off. Was there a pattern to how she’d touched him those times? She couldn’t be sure, but she feared finding herself there again. Feared being put on that high pedestal where Mal never touched her and she’d be forced to a life of celibacy. So engrossed was she in her fear that she hardly noticed when Mal stopped kissing her. “‘Nara?” The icy wind of rejection hit her face, eliciting a whimper as he pulled away. “Where are you?” he asked, his hands still cradling her face. Inara blinked her eyes back to the present moment, realizing that she’d stopped this time. She exhaled sheepishly, her face falling deeper into his hands. “Just waiting for you to run away again,” she murmured. Mal kissed her forehead and hugged her, sitting them both on the bed. “Never again, my love.” “I want to take your word…” she lamented. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her against the headboard so they could rest in each other’s arms. “‘Nara, can I tell you something?” “Of course.” “My momma used to have this pendant. Blue sapphire, silver filigree setting. Beautiful heirloom that’d been in our family since Earth-That-Was. And she never wore it. Me and my cousin found in one day and my cousin threw it on a plastic chain and pranced around all afternoon like she’s a princess. My momma was so furious when she found us playin’ like it was a cheap toy and I got an earful on how it was so precious and how you can’t be wearin’ such treasures on a plastic chain. So I started savin’ some money. Saved for years, until I could get her a silver chain. When I was fifteen, I snuck into that jewelry box again, took the chain and the pendant, and gave it to my momma as a present. I told her she had to wear it because somethin’ so precious shouldn’t be sittin’ in a drawer gatherin’ dust. She wore it every day up until the day she died. Good thing too, because a few years later, someone broke into the house and stole everything else. If she’d left it in the drawer, the pendant would be lost.” Inara furrowed her brow, suddenly catching the detail telling her that this wasn’t an elaborate parable. “Didn’t you give that necklace to me last year?” She was suddenly struck by the value of the gift. When he’d given it, she’d assumed that it had merely cost him a small fortune. One more valuable token to add to the many she’d received over the years. Now she saw that even then, he was telling her how priceless she was to him. “Had to keep it in the family,” Mal shrugged, and she stared at him, overwhelmed. “But that’s not the point, ‘Nara. Point is, you can romanticize me all you want, but I’ll never be a silver chain.” “Oh, Mal,” Inara breathed, pulling her knees under herself and sitting up straighter. “Of course you aren’t a silly chain. You’re the sapphire. And I’m the filigree setting.” Inara crossed the shuttle to her jewelry box and exchanged all the jewelry she was wearing in favor of that one piece. She fingered the pendant, feeling for the first time the treasure it was. Suddenly Mal was behind her, arms wrapped around her waist, sweeping her hair aside as his lips traced the chain on the back of her neck. “You look beautiful in that necklace,” he moaned, coming around so his lips could follow the chain to where the pendant rested low on her cleavage. Inara’s breath quickened, absorbing the sensation, never wanting it to end. “Do you love me, Mal?” His lips traveled up the other side of the chain, past her neck, to her ear. With more breath than sound, he answered, “I love you.” “Then don’t stop.” For the first time, Mal did not corral his kisses by the hem of her clothing. His mouth found her breast right through the beaded fabric of her dress. She could hardly feel it, the material was so thick. She wanted to. Without thinking, she reached behind her back and found the zipper of her dress. Mal’s lips suddenly pulled away, his hand on hers. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered, her head falling on his shoulder, ready to cry. “Don’t be,” Mal growled hotly in her ear, his mouth closing down on her shoulder. “I’m just givin’ you a hand… if you want one.” Inara gasped as he slowly lowered the zipper with one hand, trailing his second hand just inside the part of the dress, against her spine. She had half a mind to zip up the dress, just so he could unzip it again. But that part of her mind surrendered to joyful oblivion as well when he slid the dress off her body, slowly taking in every inch of her, whittling away at her undergarments and hair pins until all that remained was the sapphire pendant. Her breathing slow and heavy, Inara fell deeply into Mal’s sapphire eyes as he stepped back to admire his handy work. Chilled by the distance, Inara pressed forward, crowding Mal with kisses until they both fell onto the bed. “Why did you stop?” Inara breathed as Mal’s hands stroked the soft skin of her waist. “Because now it’s your turn,” he smiled, bringing her fingers to rest on the button of his trousers. Licking her lips sinfully, Inara trailed her fingers down his pelvis, teasing him through the fabric. “I opened with a question,” she challenged. Without missing a beat, Mal groaned, “Do you love me, ‘Nara?” She rewarded him swiftly, her fingers flying to the buttons of his trousers and setting to work. As her fingers danced inside the loosened waistband, she leaned next to his ear and whispered, “Yes, I love you.”

*~*

“Only You.”