A.N. Thanks to AgentOmega and BlueEyedBrigadier for the beta work.

--

“One. Two. Three. Draw!” Mal drew his weapon at about a quarter speed, watching and laughing at Inara across the room who was fumbling the same motion (except she was at her top speed). She was dressed in glossy black pants that flowed over her legs like a skirt and a matching top that was trimmed with black beads and showed off her midriff. After their last stop planet-side, when she’d been accosted by an ex-client, Mal decided it was time for her to start carrying a weapon, so he’d bought her a sleek pistol and holster. Mother of pearl inlaid into a hand-carved ashwood handle. Metal mirror finish with fancy engravings mimicking the beautiful waves of her hair. Lightweight, but strong. He wasn’t quite sure how the gift had gotten the two of them into his bunk, practicing her draw, but it was absolutely hilarious. Not to mention, good for his ego. “Draw!” she cried out, drawing the weapon a fraction of a second faster than him. “Mal, you can’t let me win,” she complained when he held up his hands in surrender. “I don’t want you getting discouraged.” “I need to know what to beat.” “You’re getting faster each time,” he encouraged, holstering his weapon, positioning his hand for the next count-off. “Mal, come on. Give me your best.” “Don’t tell me how to teach. I know you didn’t give me your best when we were dueling with swords.” “You only had the one night to learn!” she protested, holstering her pistol and flexing her fingers. “Plus, your life was in danger. This is just practice, and I want something to beat.” “Alright. So count already.” Inara shifted between two feet, staring him down, her middle finger touching the butt of her pistol. “One. Two. Three. Draw!” Mal’s hand whipped like lightning, drawing his weapon and pointing at her, before she had even closed her fist around her own gun. Inara’s jaw dropped and she stared at him a moment, breathless. “Impressed?” “That’s something to beat,” she nodded. “That was only half speed.” She smiled coyly. “Liar.” He loved that she called him on things like that. “Show me again.” “You have to know exactly how the gun sits on you. Don’t reach in the general direction. Reach in the exact location.” Mal came up beside her, inching next to her, placing a hand over hers. He pulled back her arm and shoulder until her hand was resting in just the right position. Then he took her hands through the fluid movements of the draw, trying not to be distracted by her perfume. Was she leaning against him intentionally? Mal took a step back, but not so far that he couldn’t feel her warmth. “Try again.” Inara’s elbow jerked back as she drew again, catching him in the ribs, sending him stumbling back in surprise. “What was that?!” he cried as she turned quickly and caught his hand to keep him from tripping. “Sorry, I –” she started to apologize, but stopped when she realized he was laughing. Clutching his side, he stepped forward again, bowling her into an embrace, causing them both to double over. She swiped at him mirthfully, and Mal closed his eyes to absorb her joy into himself. A clatter on the floor caused Mal’s eyes to open and he looked down to the source. A capture had fallen from the folds of Inara’s clothes, and because she was still locked in his arms, she couldn’t quite pick it up. “What’s this?” Mal teased, reaching for it and turning it on. “It’s mine. Give it back.” She sounded like a child. And in the picture moving before him, she looked like one as well. “Is that any way for a well-bred woman to ask for something?” “Come on, Mal,” she complained, but the sparkle in her eye told him he wasn’t really violating any privacy by leaving the capture running. He held the device over his head while she jumped and swiped, finally hopping onto his back to extend her reach and sending them both tottering forward. “So this is what you looked like before you got all your curves.” Biting her lip and smiling, Inara tripped him, rolled around his body, and grabbed the capture. It was the kind of move that made him think she’d be fun to wrestle. “Yes, yes. It was my tenth birthday.” He watched her as she held the reclaimed capture protectively at her waist, then touched the screen tenderly. Surprisingly, she took a step toward him, nestled under his arm, then held the device out a little ways so they could both watch. A very young Inara frolicked around a finely manicured lawn trimmed with white roses, decked out in a frilly white dress. “I was ten,” she said again, a little more distant. “Nice dress,” Mal commented. “I ruined that dress before the party even started. My mother was so furious.” Mal smiled, looking down at her. “What’d you do? Wrassle that little man there?” He pointed to a scrawny child chasing after Inara in the picture, about half her age. “That’s my little brother,” Inara explained. “He –” She stopped, running her thumb wistfully against the boy’s face on the screen. “We were playing on the swings. That’s how I –” “Ruined your dress?” Mal finished when she’d stopped again. Inara’s arm around his waist tightened a little and her head pressed more firmly against his chest. His hand came to rest on the curve of her waist, just above her hip and they watched the memory continue in silence. “Of all the trinkets to tote with you through the ‘verse,” Mal mused lightly. “Can’t sell it,” she shrugged. “It’s only valuable to me.” “So valuable, you can’t leave it in your bunk?” “I always felt so free … on those swings.” He could see she was looking past the capture, her memories filling in the blanks, seeing the yard behind that huge house she and her brother were playing in front of. When the capture came to an end, he set it down on the bureau, but Inara didn’t move from his embrace. “Do you have the next year?” Mal asked her, growing uncomfortable in the silence. Inara shook her head. “The next year, I was preparing to be a Companion – pulling together my application for the Guild. I didn’t have time to throw birthday parties or play on the swings.” “Lost your freedom?” “Not really. I was doing exactly what I wanted to do. I just … wasn’t a little girl anymore.” She sighed against him and Mal sighed too. Before tact could get the better of him, he spoke again. “’Nara, what is this?” “What is what?” she asked innocently, tilting her head up to face him, her arms still wrapped around him. “This. Us. You clinging to me like this.” Inara immediately broke contact and stepped away. “I’m sorry. I just –” “Not saying I mind at all. I’m just not used to you being so comfortable on me, and I’m tired of being confused about it.” “What’s to be confused about?” “Us!” “Mal, there is no us.” “Do you want there to be?” “Where is this coming from?” “’Nara, stop avoiding the question,” Mal griped. “Let me clue you in on just how clueless I can be. I don’t take kind to subliminal messages, liminal messages, superluminal messages, overt hand signals, Morse code, or semaphore. I need you to tell me outright. Are you pushing me to touch you because you want comfort from a friend or because you want something more?” “Mal, I –” she stuttered. “Don’t have to be the same answer forever, ‘Nara. I just need to know, right now today.” “Today,” she began again, a little less uncertain. “Today, I need a friend. Mal, I just need a friend. Nothing more.” Mal tried hard not to let his face fall. He wanted so badly to kiss her right now, but refused to take her and possess her the way one of her clients might. As much as he hated complications, when it came to Inara, he always wanted to complicate the hell out of things. Swallowing hard, he pulled Inara into a light, one-armed hug. “Okay,” he said, rubbing her arm. “Okay, I can do that.” Inara nodded, looking ready to cry against him. She picked up her capture and headed for the ladder. “I should go.” “No, wait!” Mal protested, grabbing her arm. She paused and looked at him expectantly and he stammered around trying to find a reason for her to stay. “I didn’t show you mine.” “Your what?” Mal swallowed hard, thinking of the picture he’d hidden and buried so deep it would probably take him half a day just to dig it out. “My … home.” “You don’t have to, Mal.” “Please,” he said softly. How was it he always found himself begging her? Inara stepped off the ladder, but not away, so Mal went hurriedly to the box under his bed to try to find the picture in question. “It ain’t a capture like yours,” he said defensively, even though he knew she wouldn’t dare criticize something so sacred to him. “Just a still shot. And one of the cows had broken out of the fence and come to the front yard. But we didn’t usually have cows in the front. And the cow ate all the flowers in the front lawn. Normally that time of year there’d be all these orange things blossoming up a storm.” He managed to babble on a string of excuses for the full ten minutes it took to dig up the photo, and all the while, Inara stayed by the ladder, not saying anything. When he finally pulled the picture, he realized that only about three-quarters of the house was actually in it. The focus of it was the fugitive cow with a half-eaten mouthful of orange flowers wrapped in her tongue. It was the only picture he had left from Shadow, and somehow, in his mind, it had always been more complete. Tentatively, he crossed the room, and handed it to Inara. “Here it is,” he said, watching her nervously for a reaction. Her hand ghosted over the tattered edges, tenderly caressing the memory in a way that nearly made him weep. Mal could still hear his momma in the house yelling at him to put a rope on that cow and get her away from the garden, then yelling out the back door for one of the ranch hands to fix the fence. After a few minutes silence, Mal started bouncing restlessly on his feet. “’Nara, say something.” “Mal,” she whispered, looking up from the picture in her hands. “I love you.” Mal’s eyes widened and his knees buckled. Inara caught most of his weight, but the ladder caught the rest as his head cracked heavily against it. Not quite passed out, he stumbled backwards, trying to find the bed so he could sit. Inara guided him by the shoulders, her eyes clouded with concern. “Mal? Mal, are you okay?” Mal collapsed heavily on the bed, laughing at himself, and banging the backside of his head against the wall in the process. “Yeah, ‘Nara, I… You love me?” “What?” “Nothing, I just… wasn’t expecting you to say that.” Inara smiled endearingly, then grabbed a wash cloth from the sink and began fussing over his head, which wasn’t more than a little bumped, though she pretended like he’d split his skull. The fragrance of her soap filled his sense and he relaxed, letting her minister to his wounds. He shifted his focus to the picture of his old home on Shadow to keep his mind off her closeness. “About half the ranch hands lived on the grounds with us,” Mal explained, pointing to the outer wings of the main house. “A few of them had kids and we all walked to school together. One time, we actually stole the hay tractor and rode that into town because it was so hot and we were tired of sweating. And there was this tire swing in the back yard –” Suddenly, Inara’s lips were pressed against his. Mal felt his eyes bug out and his body tense, too surprised to actually open his mouth, though he felt Inara’s tongue on his lips. A moment later, she pulled away sheepishly, and withdrew to the opposite side of the bed, knees drawn protectively to her chest. “Huh,” Mal said, too dazed to actually focus on her. “You, uh … you … you, uh…” “I kissed you.” “Yeah, I, uh… I noticed.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably, looking her in the eye. “You weren’t going to do that.” Inara brought her fingers to her lips guiltily. “You were talking so … Let’s just say I had a momentary lapse in judgment.” “Did you?” Mal challenged. Inara met his eyes evenly, and he couldn’t help but be drawn to the certainty and desire he saw there. “No,” she answered. Mal pulled himself on all fours, leaning to the side of the bed where Inara sat, and kissed her lips. He felt himself melt into a puddle as her body relaxed beneath him, her legs stretching, her arms wrapping around his neck, then pulling him on top of her. His skin tingled, his hands slipping slowly over her exposed waist, teasing at the hem of her top. Her tongue slid softly into his mouth, teasing his own, sending tingles and shudders firing through him. “How momentary is this lapse in judgment?” he asked, surfacing for air. She moaned and purred, her body sliding against his. “I don’t know. But I don’t want it to end.”

*~* * Easy Mark (Jayne's Revenge)