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Author's Note: Written for Firefly Friday fic challenge #2.

First Kiss
by Tara O'Shea

It wasn't supposed to happen like this.

"You've done this before, right?"

"Give Simon room to work, Wash."

They were supposed to be in the infirmary. Where all the drugs were. All the shiny, shiny drugs that women for centuries had relied upon to help get them through the most wonderful experience of their lives.

"But he has done this before, right?"

"Wash, you were there. Remember?"

"I knew this felt familiar for a reason."

They were supposed to be in the infirmary. Where Simon had all the tricks of his trade, not to mention lights, and medical equipment, and everything a doctor might need should any complications arise.

"There's an awful lot of fluids—Is that normal? Is it supposed to involve so much—"

"You ain't never seen a horse foal, have you?" Mal asked conversationally as bullets tinged against the metal walls.

"My mother downloaded My Friend Flicka down off the cortex for me when I was seven. Does that count?"

"I'd have to say no."

It wasn't supposed to happen like this.

"I think I got a leg that time!"

"I'm hoping all I got was a leg," was Book's reply.

They were supposed to be in the infirmary. Not in a shack, rain pouring down outside, punctuated by the occasional gunshot as Mal and Book caught sight of one of the rustlers through the boarded up windows and took aim.

"How you doin, there, Zoe?"

"Just fine, sir," Zoe growled between grit teeth.

"Good to hear."

"Okay—we're almost there," Simon said, almost to himself, from between Zoe's knees.

"Um... Push? Isn't that what they say in all the vids? Push?"

"This ain't the damn mule... stuck in the mud, Husband."

"Sorry—sorry. Is there anything I can do—honey, okay, that's my hand. Okay, ow! Owowowow dumpling, I kind of need my hand to steer the ship—"

"I can see the head!"

"Hear that Zoe, baby! Our baby has a head!"

"Kinda... knew.... that...."

"Oh, right—cause it's—wow. It's. Wow. Okay, I didn't know that could do that."

"Just one more big push. Can you do that for me, Zoe?"

"Think that one's dead?"

"God, I hope so."

"Okay—I can see shoulders—"

"That's blasphemy, Preacher!"

"C'mon, baby—we're almost there. Just one more."

A child's wail drowned out the gunshots.

"Hey, Zoe—she has toes! Oh, look at our beautiful baby's toes!"

"Give me your shirt."

Zoe stretched out trembling arms. Wriggling little thing, swaddled in a Hawaiian shirt, and laid on Zoe's chest.

"Hey there, sweeting."

"Okay—that guy had better be dead, because I am out of ammo."

"We're not done yet."

"There's more? Is there another kid in there?"

"Wash—"

"It's not twins or anything, is it? Because we hadn't planned on—"

"Wash!"

"There's—stuff. Stuff that was on the inside, that needs to not be on the inside, so it's going to join us here on the outside."

"More fluids?"

"Somebody wanna find out where Kaylee and Jayne are with that damn shuttle?"

"Captain—don't swear in front of my daughter."

It wasn't supposed to happen like this.

But then, it usually did.

"My beautiful baby girl," Zoe said with a smile as she pressed a kiss to a small, pink head.