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Entry tags:
F: Clinical
Fandom: Firefly
Pairing: Mal/Simon
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Summary: They each don't want the other to be hurt. Timeline here.
"You could have just pushed me out of the way," Simon says, softly. He seems more distracted than anything, his forehead slightly furrowed as he focuses on the extraction of a bullet. Mal grips something tightly and tries not to squirm, wince or curse. River can feel his resolve not to make a fuss. It seems to River little removed from a schoolboy acting tough after a beating to impress his girlfriend.
"You'd've got hurt, then," he says, teeth gritted.
"Still dancing around each other," River says, holding the tray out to catch the bullet as Simon finally pulls it out. She makes her face at the bloody mess and slides around Simon to hand him another tool. If he were operating on any other person, Simon might now be thinking grateful thoughts. As it is, all he can focus on is Mal.
"It would have grazed my arm," he says, seemingly without hearing River's comment. "This could have killed you."
"You're the doc. Can't have you hurt."
"A graze would hardly cause a problem -- "
"Simon," Mal says, firmly, in the same tone as River's heard him say bi zui to Jayne, the same firm tone he uses to disrupt her rambles. "I don't want you to get hurt. Do I have to say it clearer than that?"
There's a pause. Simon knows the confession for what it is -- knew all along, but the doctor part of him, the hot concern squirming at the pit of his stomach, wouldn't let him see the romance of it. River rolls her eyes, creeping to the door, but she doesn't leave.
"I don't want you to get hurt for me, either," Simon says, not clinical now at all. "I don't want you to be hurt at all."
His confession, River thinks, is in the way he looks at Mal then, as their hands touch and as he leans down. It almost makes her blush.
Pairing: Mal/Simon
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Summary: They each don't want the other to be hurt. Timeline here.
"You could have just pushed me out of the way," Simon says, softly. He seems more distracted than anything, his forehead slightly furrowed as he focuses on the extraction of a bullet. Mal grips something tightly and tries not to squirm, wince or curse. River can feel his resolve not to make a fuss. It seems to River little removed from a schoolboy acting tough after a beating to impress his girlfriend.
"You'd've got hurt, then," he says, teeth gritted.
"Still dancing around each other," River says, holding the tray out to catch the bullet as Simon finally pulls it out. She makes her face at the bloody mess and slides around Simon to hand him another tool. If he were operating on any other person, Simon might now be thinking grateful thoughts. As it is, all he can focus on is Mal.
"It would have grazed my arm," he says, seemingly without hearing River's comment. "This could have killed you."
"You're the doc. Can't have you hurt."
"A graze would hardly cause a problem -- "
"Simon," Mal says, firmly, in the same tone as River's heard him say bi zui to Jayne, the same firm tone he uses to disrupt her rambles. "I don't want you to get hurt. Do I have to say it clearer than that?"
There's a pause. Simon knows the confession for what it is -- knew all along, but the doctor part of him, the hot concern squirming at the pit of his stomach, wouldn't let him see the romance of it. River rolls her eyes, creeping to the door, but she doesn't leave.
"I don't want you to get hurt for me, either," Simon says, not clinical now at all. "I don't want you to be hurt at all."
His confession, River thinks, is in the way he looks at Mal then, as their hands touch and as he leans down. It almost makes her blush.