Disclaimer- They are not mine. And if they were, they would probably sue me, or run away.

Rating- NC/17 Slash. Don't like, don't read.

Authors Note: This is actually #1 of the Collection in which I'm collecting every pairing on Serenity. They may be naughty, silly, or surprising. They may be frightening, absurd, or just plain sick. I never know until the muses speak.

This was originally posted at AdultFanfiction.net, but it's currently down, and FlyerFry reviewed asking me not to limit myself to het. EEK! Heaven forbid!

Pieces.

Simon was on his knees in the kitchen, picking up the pieces. Again. A mug this time. Kaylee's favorite. They would have to hide the evidence until they made landfall and could pick up a replacement. Hopefully, Kaylee wouldn't have one of her monthly coffee cravings before that could happen.

A sharp shard pricked his finger and he swore.

"That's some language, Doc. Don't think I've ever heard you cuss before." Mal was leaning over the counter and Simon met his eye with a frown.

"Well, even the High and Mighty sometimes fall." His reply was defensive, bitter, and Mal's eyes narrowed a little.

His voice was abashed when he spoke again. "You heard that, huh?"

"It's a small ship, Captain." Simon pronounced each word carefully, the 'p's painfully crisp in the quiet kitchen.

Mal didn't reply to it. Didn't apologize for the comment he'd made a few weeks back when he thought he and Zoe were alone. "Speaking of which, what part of it has the little tornado gotten off to?"

Simon gave a wry frown, dropping the shards into the garbage. "She's in her room. I gave her something to calm her down."

Malcolm Reynolds was staring at Simon. His expression was unreadable and Simon shifted uncomfortably. Did he disapprove? Simon thought that was all they wanted. River, quiet and under control and not smashing things or cutting up Jayne... well, maybe nobody was too disturbed about cutting on Jayne.

"Doc, sometimes, when things get broke, the pieces can't be cleaned up all shiny." Mal said carefully, slowly. He came around the counter and faced the younger man, who was running cold water on the cut on his hand.

Simon glanced over his shoulder and then looked back at the pristine stainless steel of the sink. It was a safer grey than the grey of Mal's eyes. He felt a sting of sorrow and blinked to clear it. Taking a deep breath he pressed a towel to his nicked finger and turned back to Mal, determination in his eyes. "I'm a surgeon, Captain. I don't just clean up the pieces. I put them back together again."

But his conviction was wavering. River was in pieces. Their lives were in pieces, out here in the black with nothing certain around them. He was indebted to Malcolm Reynolds, and to the entire crew of Serenity, but that didn't mean he liked it. Everything was just pieces and there wasn't even a pattern to make it whole again.

Mal stepped closer now. He was so close that Simon couldn't see anything except the buttons of his blue shirt, the buckles of his suspenders. The last time he'd been that close it had been a prelude to a punch in the jaw and Simon tensed, pushing back further against the sink.

Slowly, as if sensing the trepidation, Mal's hand came up and rested on Simon's shoulder. "Simon, you got all kind of reasons to be afraid, and all kinds of reasons to be bitter. I understand that. But you can't be blaming yourself for everything you can't fix."

Simon felt a lump raising in his throat and swallowed it down, his jaw working as he tried to find the right words, the right sarcastic tone to push Mal back from him. Instead, his hand came up and locked on Mal's forearm. He shook his head slightly. How did Mal know what he was thinking? Was he becoming bitter? A little voice inside whispered, 'Had there been a time when he wasn't?'

Mal leaned closer now, his lips inches from Simon's own. "There's people here who care about you and River. And I know that ain't much, but..."

Mal's words stopped and Simon muttered out "Kaylee."

"Yeah. Kaylee. 'Nara. Zoe, Wash. Hell, even Jayne's glad you're here." Mal answered, giving Simon a little shake. "And I got a heap of trouble on my head because you're here. But that don't mean you ain't part of this crew. Don't mean I don't think it's worth it."

Simon stared up at Mal. This was a side he'd never seen before and he couldn't help but just stand there, feeling the strength Mal's arm under his fingers, his sturdy grip on his shoulder.

Mal hesitated and then spoke again. "But Simon, she ain't getting better. None of the drugs are working. Maybe the pieces aren't going to be whole again."

Simon heard his own doubt in Mal's words. As if Mal had known all along what Simon was only beginning to realize. River was broken. "I ... I have to try."

He felt tears welling up and cursed himself for his weakness in front of this man who had none. If Mal had thought him weak before, he would surely despise him for this now.

Instead, he felt Mal's arm tug him close, then his other arm clamped around his back pulling him in hard for a hug. Mal's voice was low and warm in his ear, "You don't gotta be the strong one all the time, Doc."

"River..." Simon thought of the one excuse he could for his weakness and tried to draw away, but Mal held him fast.

"River's fine. It's you who's in need of fixing right now." And Mal drew back a bit and looked down into the younger man's eyes, bringing up his right hand to brush back the hair that had fallen across his eyes. "You need a haircut."

"Yeah. I..." Simon stopped and stared up at Mal. His lips were inches from his and he felt his breath stolen away.

"Simon?" Mal's voice was quiet. He nearly never called him Simon, always Doc, or Doctor, or something more insulting. Simon suddenly discovered he liked it.

"Yes?"

"You want my help?" Mal asked quietly and Simon gulped, looked down only to find himself looking at the buttons again.

"Say it again." He said before he could stop himself.

"You want my help?" Mal's voice was confused but amused and he shifted his hands around Simon's back. "Or the other part."

"My name. Say my name."

"Simon." Mal said firmly. "I'll say it often as you like."

"Will you say it if I..." Simon shut himself up. He was not going to do this! Mal was offering him comfort and he was about to come on to him? What in the 'verse could he be thinking? This was Malcolm Reynolds! Browncoat, criminal, pirate, enemy of the Alliance. Everything that stood against Simon's core values stood close enough for him to hear it's very heartbeat. But wasn't he an enemy of the Alliance now? Hadn't he become the criminal?

"If you....?" Mal wasn't letting go and he tilted his forehead closer. "If you what? Simon?"

"I...I.. never mind." Simon tried to push Mal's arms down and slide away from him, but Mal dropped his lips to the edge of Simon's ear.

"I'll say it while I fuck you." He whispered.

Simon's knees buckled and only his back against the sink kept him upright. He flushed from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. He was vaguely aware of Mal's deep chuckle.

"Do you want that, Simon? I think you need it. I think you need to let go of all that control and let someone else put the pieces together again. I can help you." Mal whispered fiercely.

Simon found himself raising his head, facing Mal. His eyes glistened bright for a second and then darkened as he parted his lips and leaned up, pressing them to Mal's mouth.

The kiss was hesitant, and then Mal was backing away. "Not here. My bunk."

Mal was turning, dragging Simon by the hand. Simon threw the towel into the sink behind him, knowing instinctively that it only just made the edge, but not caring if it slipped to the floor. Mal stood behind him and gestured him down into his bunk before following him down the ladder.

Simon looked around. He'd only been down here once before, when Mal had been drugged by Saffron. Now he took in the warmth of it, mixed with the spartan practicality. Then Mal grabbed him from behind and guided him to the bed, sitting him down on it and squatting in front of him, both hands on his thighs.

Mal's expression was closed, contemplative, and then he looked up at Simon. "All I got to offer is a soldiers comfort. I ain't much on..."

Simon cut him off. "I know. I'm not... this was your idea."

"That's why I want to make sure you're on board with it." Mal's hands were at Simon's trousers, unhooking them and lowering the zip. "I don't want you regretting this later."

"I regret everything later." Simon admitted, lying back as Mal's hands worked his trousers down and off. "I'm used to it."

Mal paused, yanking off Simon's polished shoes before admitting. "Hell, maybe we have more in common than we think."

Then he raised himself up and leaned over Simon, putting one knee on the bed to kneel over him. "So you know what you want?"

Simon nodded. It had been a long time since he'd done anything like this. Since school. Since he and his dorm-mate... he looked straight at Mal. "Go down on me. Turn around so I can do you."

Mal grinned. "Hopin' you'd say something like that."

In moments, Mal was naked and Simon unbuttoned his shirt, stripping it off as he reached for Mal's shoulders and pulled him in for another kiss. This was harder, faster; Mal drowning Simon with his mouth as he pressed him back into the thin mattress. Mouths caressed, hands touched, gently at first and then with bruising intensity.

"Mal?" Simon whispered as he moved down Malcolm's body, letting his fingers linger on scars that should have been healed by proper surgeons, scars that never would have been left if his care had healed them. He felt Mal's erection against his chest and turned around, stretched out bodily beside Mal's lean form, breathing warm air over his sensitive skin.

"Turn a bit, Simon." Mal instructed, shifting so that he could lay on his good side. "Got nerve damage in my back."

Simon's sensitive hands traced over his lower back, finding the spot as if by magic, then he flattened his palm and slid it down to cup Mal's ass. And a perfect ass it was. No scarring here. He was unsure how much older Mal was than he, but he had a damn fine body for all he'd been through. Simon felt Mal's lips at the curve of his hip and gasped, thrusting a little.

Mal's arm curved around his hips, bringing him closer and Simon gasped again, a small whimper, as a warm wetness enclosed his erection. He groaned, relishing it, giving in to it. Mal toyed with him, licking lightly, teasing him, and he groaned louder. In answer, Mal thrust his own hips forward, his livid flesh brushing hot and insistent against Simon's cheek.

Obediently, Simon opened his mouth and ran his tongue over the delicate head, tasting salt and sour. The musky scent of Mal's arousal hit him full force and he gave up all pretense at teasing and sucked him into his mouth.

Now Mal groaned and Simon relished it. Suddenly having control over this man who controlled all else in his life gave him a sense of power and he sucked hard, thrusting all the way down to the root as he grabbed Mal's ass in both hands and pulled him to him.

Mal's answer was to move his head infuriatingly slowly back and forth, swishing Simon's erection with his tongue. Simon tried to thrust into him, but Mal's hands caught his hips and held him still, rocking his body with the motion of his head.

It was a sweet power play, each attempting to drive the other to madness, each relishing each movement, each surrender, each tiny win in the sensual battle. At last, Simon could bear it no more and rolled, taking Mal to his back and thrusting into his mouth as he engulfed him entirely.

To his surprise, he felt Mal surrender to it, tilting back his head and allowing him access to the depths of his throat. He was grunting in time to his thrusts now, each swallow of Mal's jaw muscles around him bringing him closer to ecstacy. Then Mal was yelling around him, and he felt the tremble between his lips that presaged the sudden pulsing orgasm that filled his mouth and brought him to his own climax.

For a long moment he rested there savoring Mal's flavor, Mal's hands still curved to his hips, his lips still working his waning erection gently. Then, with a sigh, he withdrew. Sitting up on the bed, he looked down at Mal, who just grinned up at him as he wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Sorry about that." Mal said softly and Simon looked at him, confused.

"For what? That was..." Simon couldn't find the words. "That was... wou de ma... I don't..."

"I said I'd say your name. Couldn't. Mouth was full." Mal's voice was warm and it filled the darkness between them. "You more relaxed now?"

"Yea." Simon admitted. He was still sitting on the edge of the edge of the bed, facing Mal. "You... this doesn't..."

"This doesn't change anything, Doc. 'Cept now you know you ain't alone out here. You know you don't gotta do it all by yourself."

Simon gave a genuine, but shy smile. He stood up and pulled on his shirt. "Thanks. Captain. I'd better go check River."

"Night, Doctor." Mal's voice was rich in the darkness.

"Can we do this again sometime?" Simon tried to keep the hope from his voice and was relieved when Mal's voice was warm and deep in response.

"Anytime you need help picking up the pieces."

The End.