“Well, that’s a sight I never thought I’d get to see.”

“Me neither.”

“Think we oughtta do something about it?”

“Not sure. I mean, he looks kinda comfy, don’t you think?”

“I know what you mean. And that bed is soft.” He pushed down on the mattress. “See?”

“Could always ask him.”

“Could.”

There was a pause.

“Go on then.”

“I was kinda waiting for you to broach the subject.”

“Broach? You been reading again?”

“A bit.”

“You know it gives you a headache.”

“It ain't that bad.”

“I’ll remind you next time.”

“Shiny.”

Another pause, longer than the first.

“You sure we shouldn’t go find a capture someplace? I mean, record this for posterity.”

“Well, I would, but we’re shipping out in ten minutes.”

“Maybe one of the girls …”

“Nah. ‘Sides, I ain't sure we’d survive long if we did that.”

“You’re probably right.”

A moan from the room next door suggested someone was having a good time.

“Ten minutes, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Pity.”

“Yeah.”

This time the pause was enlivened by someone banging on the door as they went past in the corridor outside.

“Get your pigu moving, Reynolds! That transport ain't gonna wait all day!” The man stomped off down the stairs.

“Better cut him loose, then.”

“’Spose.”

Harry Reynolds pulled a knife from his boot and sat on the edge of the bed. “Aw, lie still, Mal, else I'm gonna draw blood.” He slid the blade between skin and leather thong, twisting just enough so that the sharp edge could do its work.

As soon as one hand was free, Malcolm Reynolds whipped the gag from his mouth. “Hurry up, will you?” he pleaded. “Before anyone else comes in.”

Vinnie, his other cousin, stood at the end of the bed. “How’d you get yourself in this precarious position?” he asked, trying hard not to grin.

“Just find my clothes, will you?” The other leather tie snapped, and he sat up, managing to undo the restraints on his ankles himself.

Vinnie looked around and saw a heap of brown tossed in the corner. “Here,” he said, picking it up and dropping it onto the counterpane.

Mal stood up, a little unsteady on his feet, and grabbed his pants, tugging them on quickly. Buttoning the fly he felt the pockets. “Gorramit,” he muttered.

“We told you she was too good for this place,” Harry said, shaking his head.

“Rolled you, eh?” Vinnie added, and sighed. “You should’ve listened to us.”

Pushing his arms into his shirt Mal glared at the brothers. “I did listen to you. That’s how come I’m in this mess.”

“Well, it’s your birthday. Couldn’t let that go by without some fun.”

Mal scrabbled under the bed for his boots. “Fun. That what you call it.”

“Come on, Mal. Least it looks like you got your money’s worth before she did.”

If looks could kill both his cousins would have been nothing but corpses. “That ain't the point.”

Harry and Vinnie exchanged self-satisfied smirks.

“Seems like maybe it is,” the elder Reynolds said.

Vinnie sighed happily. “And I just know the rest of the platoon will –” He stopped, frozen.

Mal was looking down the barrel of his gun, his finger on the trigger, just a hair’s breadth away from committing murder. “You say one word of this to anyone … and I mean ANYONE … this war’s gonna have two more casualties. Dong mah?”

Vinnie swallowed. “Sure Mal. Whatever you say. Not a word of this is gonna pass my lips.”

Mal looked at Harry, the gun swinging round. “Got it?”

Harry put up his hands in surrender. “Like it never happened, Mal.”

“Good.” Mal slid his weapon back into its holster and thrust his feet into his boots, pausing only to grab his Browncoat from the chair before flinging the door open. “Nobody finds out. Ever.”

“Sure thing, Mal,” Vinnie said, following him out into the corridor, a grin plastered across his face.

“Not ever,” Harry agreed, smiling so widely he was surprised the top of his head didn’t fall right off. --- -- -

Twenty years later …

“But it’s your birthday,” Freya said, her voice throaty.

“Um, no, thanks. I never … not into that kind of thing.” Mal shook his head firmly.

She sat up in bed, her skin glowing, holding up the silk scarf. “I thought all men liked this sort of thing.”

“Since when did you know all men?”

“Inara told me –”

“Well, I ain't all men!” He took the scarf from her and tossed it away into the corner, shuddering as he did so. “And I … I don’t.”

Freya seemed to unfocus a little, and his heart sank. Then her jaw dropped and her eyes widened. “Mal …”

“Oh, diyu,” he murmured, just as she burst into laughter. Sometimes being married to a psychic was simply more trouble than it was worth.