Conversations in the low light: What happens when the captain's laundry follows you home and you're awake at an ungodly hour.

Rating- PG I think

Disclaimer- Come on folks, like, as if we don't know! Repeat after me, Joss made them and him and some other rich folk own it all, not me.... I don't even own a good computer I own a crappy old laptop with a dial-up connection.

Special thanks to 2x2 who did me the favor of being my beta on this fanfic.... Thanks so much...

A/n- not sure if the format is kinda too jumbled for some of you to read clearly, if so let me know. Also, know this is totally going to be Mal / Inara, and its post the BDM. Oh, and before I go and forget... yes the rating will go up for violence, language, and some situations with references to sex and maybe more but I doubt it will ever be NC-17... herm :cough cough... enough said. Lets get to the reading folks!

Inara sat, folding her freshly washed clothes. She was thinking about what had happened earlier today, about how quickly Mal and herself had turned to fighting; about how easy it should have been to just tease him instead of fighting about his lack of tact when it came to her. Was it really so hard for him to be civil with her, and for honesty's sake she had ask her self why it was so hard for her to keep civil with him as well; she could not place all the blame on him , but she sure knew he shared a great deal of it. Why did she care so much? And why did their words always come out slightly twisted? She supposed the easiest and most utterly idiotic way to explain it was to say it was just their way- Naturally that thought left her dissatisfied. She'd over-reacted, been too sensitive about the whole thing because the situation had truly been personal to her.

Then, suddenly, she came across one of his shirts, her stomach doing summersaults as she picked it out from the basket on the floor.

"Damn," was the only word she could utter as she looked at the beat-up burgundy shirt. She straightened it, buttoned it up and folded it neatly. Then she put it aside to give to Mal later, when she would not feel as awkward as a novice on her first day at the Training House. ++++ Mal folded his under things into messy little bundles and shoved them in his dresser. Then he moved on to his shirts and he hung those up somewhat neatly. He wondered why he and Inara could not just get along; it seemed it was just their way. He pushed the thoughts aside; something else was bothering him.

"Damn," He couldn't find his favorite shirt, one of his oldest ones, it was worn and soft. He couldn't find his favorite shirt, one of his oldest ones, worn and soft. It was also the one where he had happened to put the small paper with the detail for the next job in. He figured it could be in one of two places, Inara's basket, or in the remainder of his dirty laundry. He could not decide which of the two ideas was more frightening.

++++ An hour later, the Captain's quarters: Mal was in trouble. He had torn his bunk apart, though not before searching through a large sack of smelly laundry. Now he sat at his desk which was littered with papers and even an odd smelling unidentified article of clothing. He took a deep breath and combed his fingers through his hair. He had not found the scrap of paper; he had known he wouldn't but he had hoped he was wrong- he wasn't. The fact was he knew Inara had the shirt and the paper, he just needed some time to figure out how to approach her. He was in trouble, and he had no plan. Well at least he had time for now, a whole two weeks before he would need the info. Of course he would not wait that long, probably just 'till Inara was tired of doing that thing where she looked right through him like he was not even there, or worse that thing where she looked right at him like he was an ass- Which wasn't likely to happen any time soon. "Yep, this could take a day or three." +++++

Two nights later:

Inara was in the kitchen having prepared some tea in the hopes of maybe soothing herself after a particularly bad dream. Serenity was dark with only a few gas lamps in certain places and the star to light a persons way. Inara sat at the head of the table with her cup of tea in front of her, the steam rising and hitting a few of her dangling locks of hair. She turned down the light on the gas lamp in the middle of the table and stifled a yawn. She smoothed her fingers over the sleeve of Mal's worn shirt, so long that it covered her all the way down past her silk shorts, and smiled impishly as she took a sip of her tea. She knew he was looking for it, but since he had not had the guts to ask her if she has seen it; she wouldn't tell him she had it. She briefly wondered what the look on his face might be if he were to see her wearing it; it almost made her laugh, but she just smiled and drank her tea. Then she heard a voice that interrupted her thoughts and the silence of the night.

"Those are some Jiang jiu de fu zhuang, you got there." It was Mal. she smiled and turned to him. "You think so? I thought it was a bit out of style."

"Out of- I'll have you know that is the most comfortable and dependable shirt I have."

"I believe that says more about your wardrobe then the shirt- But I did not mean any disrespect," she added before he decided to be offended. "Any ways I think I've told you I like something with a few miles on it; and you're very right, it is comfortable."

"That it is. 'Fact, it's my favorite one."

Inara continued to drink her tea intentionally taking little notice of him. "Is it?" "Yep."

"Hmm that's nice. Would you like some tea?"

"No thank you, but I would like 'my' shirt back."

"I'm wearing it."

"I can see that. It looks real- you look real fine."

"Oh! Well, thank-you," she responded, somewhat thrown by the compliment. Mal walked on over to the table and sat to her right, leaning back in the chair a bit as if relaxed. "So what are you doing up at this time of night?"

"I was having some trouble sleeping so I thought I would have some tea. If I would have known I was going to have company perhaps I would have worn a robe."

"I always walk the ship 'bout this time, just to check on things." "That's strange, I come out for tea at this time quite frequently. Before Miranda I would bump into the Shepard, we would talk over tea; But now I some times bump into Zoe- We never talk,” They share a knowing glance, Inara gave him her best comforting smile, briefly touching his arm.

Mal took in a deep breath, then asked her "What would you and the Shepard talk about?"

Inara poured Mal a cup of tea and slid it towards him, then filled her own cup. All this to avoid meeting his eyes, but finally she answered with a weak smile on her lips; though the gesture reached her eyes, it was not happy, but tired.

"The things that wake us from our sleep at this ungodly hour."

"Nightmares?"

"Basically." Mal then took a sip of his tea, not really looking at her. He seemed thoughtful for a moment.

"Ain't it kind'a funny how we both walk about at this time of night and how we've only once or twice come across one another?"

"Maybe it's our subconscious selves steering us away from one another so that we don't drive each other mad."

"Maybe, could be... You know what 'Nara, I don't like our subconscious selves if that's the case."

"Me either."

Their eyes met for a few seconds, but even that proved to be too much for them, and they looked away. They both sat in silence for a few more minutes, until the tea was gone and they were ready to go. Mal picked up Inara's cup along with his and took it to the sink to wash it. She thanked him and helped him dry the cups and put them away.

"'Nara I was thinking, and I want you to keep the shirt. If you want it, that is. I mean, I- I wont take it as an insult if you don't want it- it is kind of old, and well you probably got some other nice things, but well- if you want it, I'm just offering it and-" "Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes I would like to have it, thank you it's- I love it."

"You're welcome." They share a smile, then look away neither of their smiles fading completely. They were silent as they walked to Inara's shuttle, neither of them speaking. They hesitated at the door, then Mal finally spoke. "Oh, I was meaning to ask you, best I do it now 'for I forget. Could you look in the shirt pocket to see if I left a paper in there, it's the details to the next job."

"Oh, sure, just hold on... This one?" "Yes perfect, I was hopin' it was still in there."

"How did you come across this job?"

"...Badger ." "Mal, please tell me your not planning on trusting that jing chang mei yong de wang ba dan."

"I don't trust him, I just got to work for him. After Miranda , job's have been real scarce and well- We need this Inara." "I know, I just... Just be careful." She turned and walked into her shuttle, Mal following until he was standing just in the door.

"Inara, if you want I tend to walk about at this time, so if your ever up- if you want some company, well I'll be about."

"That sounds like it could be very enjoyable, I look forward to it."

"Yeah, well... g'night"

"Good night Mal."

Inara walked to her bed sat down, somewhat pleased. For once he had not said anything too bad, and it made her feel light. She turned out her light and in the darkness smelled the shirt with a smile, somehow knowing tonight, she would not dream.

++++

Mal lay in his bed, feet crossed and arms behind his head. Yep, this was the life. Yep, things were going well and he thought he might have managed to say something right for once. All he did was be truthful, too; it made him feel like he was on top of the world. Like things were just right and for once moving along like they were supposed to. He did not allow himself to think of what ifs tonight, no, only of beauty in soft burgundy. Only of the dark hair that framed her face and of the dark eyes that held a light like the sky held the stars. He thought of how incredibly corny and poetical she could get him. Yep, she was a strange woman who did strange things to him. Made him consider not spending all his life lost in the woods, even. Then he thought he was thinking too much. He looked at the paper; it was worn out and the ink slightly faded, but the information was all there. He had his next job, he had his crew, he had his ship... No more thinking, go to bed, he thought. Yes, things were good, though the last thoughts on his mind were worried, how long before things got bad again? How long before his heart was in his throat because someone he loved was hurt? He did not know and it frightened him.

"How long?" The question kept him on edge.

Translations:

Jiang jiu de fu zhuang - stylish clothing jing chang mei yong de - consistently useless wang ba dan - S.O.B.