Mal was lying on his back, still dressed, wrapped in that leather coat of his. He’d managed to get one boot off, but that was it. He was now on the bed, one foot on the floor, fast asleep.

“I wish Simon would wear those nice clothes of his once in a while,” Kaylee had said. “It’d be nice to go somewhere, just once in a while, where we can be dressed up.”

“You want to go out on a date?” River joked.

“It’d be fun.”

“My brother doesn’t do fun.”

“Yes he does. And he looks so suai in his formal clothes.”

“I think he looks silly.”

“That’s only ‘cause he’s your brother.”

“Ask him. Or better yet, tell him you’re going out. I’ll sit Bethany.”

“You think?”

“Or take away all his new clothes and only leave him with the old ones. Then he’ll have to dress up, even if it’s only to remove Jayne’s latest bullet.”

“It’s just he looks so suai …”

Freya watched Mal sleep. She didn’t care what he wore. He looked nice in his one decent suit, sure, but she liked him in the faded shirts that had seen better days. They felt so good under her fingers, the way the cotton had softened, and some of the creases were permanent now. And she’d had to mend his pants more than once, after they’d split. But it didn’t matter. None of that mattered. It wasn't what he wore that counted.

“I know he has big feet,” she whispered. “That they’re inside those socks right now. That he has really nice legs, hidden away where no-one can see. I know what his tattoo means.”

She crossed the room and lifted his leg, pulling off the other boot. Very gently she placed his foot on the bed. He didn’t wake, just snuffled slightly.

“I know his chest. Not too muscular, but not skinny. Just a man. I know the spot just below his left nipple that tickles. I know how he smells.”

Undoing his gunbelt with care, sliding it from around his hips, she went on. “I know he has scratches on his arms from where he was helping Kaylee in the engine room. I know they’re inside his shirt, without having to look. I know he doesn’t shave if he doesn’t have to.”

She moved the chair closer to the bed and sat down. “I know he likes apples but hates bananas.” She smiled. “I know where his freckles are.”

He turned his head, his mouth slightly open as he snored gently.

“I know the look on his face at night when he’s tired and wants to sleep, and in the morning when he wants to make love before we get up. I know the fire in his eyes when he’s angry, and I know the surprise in them when he comes.”

She leaned forward, her elbows on the bed, resting her chin in her hands. “I know the bad days, and the worse nights, when he wants me to be quiet and just hold him.” She stroked his hair from his forehead. “I know the hope he carries in his heart that his family will survive, and the prayer that he will see them through.”

Her voice dropped to barely a breath. “But most of all … underneath all that, I know he loves me.”

Mal’s eyes opened. “I do at that,” he murmured, moving over just enough so that she could lie down next to him.

“Good day?” she asked, settling her body into its usual spot, the scent of warm leather filling her nostrils.

“It was okay. Better now.” He wrapped his arm around her, and she rested her head on his shoulder. “Tired.”

“Then rest. I'm here.”

“Good. Good.” His eyes drooped, but even as he slid back into sleep, his lips twitched and his voice came softly. “I love you.”

“I know.”