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Entry tags:
F: Doctor
Fandom: Firefly
Pairing: Mal/Simon, Mal/River
Warnings: None
Rating: PG
Summary: The things that make Mal feel alive. Timeline here.
He was clumsy. Sat in the infirmary with Simon Tam looking like a storm personified patching up his arm, Mal can admit that, but otherwise he ain't sayin' a word about it. He was clumsy, he got shot, and that was it. Maybe, perhaps, possibly, to ease that pissed off expression he might admit it. Just once. And let Simon scold him a little. In a minute.
Simon is a little rougher than necessary with the bandaging, but Mal sits there and lets him. After all --
"Should clip your wings."
Mal and Simon both jump a little at River's voice, which is followed a second later by River's head peekin' around the door, then her body followin' it. Mal can't help but smile at the sight of her doing her slightly-psycho thing, wanderin' around Serenity barefoot like a kid back on Earth-that-was trying to get in touch with nature. She is, she tells him, no longer as confused.
But she still likes wandering around barefoot and talkin' in riddles.
"Like a bird?" Simon asks, when he resumes his bandaging and finishes it off neatly. His fingers brush down Mal's arm, a light caress in place of the angry words he might've said if River hadn't come in.
"Like a bird. So he can't fly away and get hurt."
Mal flexes his arm a little and once more thanks his sheer damn luck they have such a good doctor. A good doctor who does his work well even when he's annoyed with the person he's patchin' up. "You're the one I'd liken to a bird more'n me, River."
"Yes, I admit the metaphor falls apart a bit after the not letting you get hurt. You don't fly away without us, either, you stay with Serenity..."
"Maybe my wings have already been clipped?"
It's just the kind of conversation Mal likes, just out of his depth but clingin' on to the edges of River's crazy logic, lettin' her spin her little stories and metaphors and learnin' more about her than he's really ever going to learn from her little confusing riddles.
Simon's hand hasn't left his arm yet, and Mal knows he wants to be alone with him. To yell at him a little and then cling to the solid, living reality of him. He worries Simon a lot, he knows. It's not like he can help it, though, because there are so damn few things that make him feel like he's still livin'. One of them is River, with her smiles. One of them is Simon, with his bag of doctory tricks, and more than that the feel of his body and the way his heart races when Mal touches him, even just little touches.
And one of them is takin' darn crazy risks, like this one right here, playin' with both Tams, only not playin' them, just playin' with the fire of havin' both of them and hopin' the fallout won't hurt too bad.
A forlorn hope, but then, that's what Mal knows best. Forlorn hopes and takin' what you can get while y'can still get it.
Pairing: Mal/Simon, Mal/River
Warnings: None
Rating: PG
Summary: The things that make Mal feel alive. Timeline here.
He was clumsy. Sat in the infirmary with Simon Tam looking like a storm personified patching up his arm, Mal can admit that, but otherwise he ain't sayin' a word about it. He was clumsy, he got shot, and that was it. Maybe, perhaps, possibly, to ease that pissed off expression he might admit it. Just once. And let Simon scold him a little. In a minute.
Simon is a little rougher than necessary with the bandaging, but Mal sits there and lets him. After all --
"Should clip your wings."
Mal and Simon both jump a little at River's voice, which is followed a second later by River's head peekin' around the door, then her body followin' it. Mal can't help but smile at the sight of her doing her slightly-psycho thing, wanderin' around Serenity barefoot like a kid back on Earth-that-was trying to get in touch with nature. She is, she tells him, no longer as confused.
But she still likes wandering around barefoot and talkin' in riddles.
"Like a bird?" Simon asks, when he resumes his bandaging and finishes it off neatly. His fingers brush down Mal's arm, a light caress in place of the angry words he might've said if River hadn't come in.
"Like a bird. So he can't fly away and get hurt."
Mal flexes his arm a little and once more thanks his sheer damn luck they have such a good doctor. A good doctor who does his work well even when he's annoyed with the person he's patchin' up. "You're the one I'd liken to a bird more'n me, River."
"Yes, I admit the metaphor falls apart a bit after the not letting you get hurt. You don't fly away without us, either, you stay with Serenity..."
"Maybe my wings have already been clipped?"
It's just the kind of conversation Mal likes, just out of his depth but clingin' on to the edges of River's crazy logic, lettin' her spin her little stories and metaphors and learnin' more about her than he's really ever going to learn from her little confusing riddles.
Simon's hand hasn't left his arm yet, and Mal knows he wants to be alone with him. To yell at him a little and then cling to the solid, living reality of him. He worries Simon a lot, he knows. It's not like he can help it, though, because there are so damn few things that make him feel like he's still livin'. One of them is River, with her smiles. One of them is Simon, with his bag of doctory tricks, and more than that the feel of his body and the way his heart races when Mal touches him, even just little touches.
And one of them is takin' darn crazy risks, like this one right here, playin' with both Tams, only not playin' them, just playin' with the fire of havin' both of them and hopin' the fallout won't hurt too bad.
A forlorn hope, but then, that's what Mal knows best. Forlorn hopes and takin' what you can get while y'can still get it.
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