Disclaimer: I even wrote it a valentine, but Firefly is still not mine.
"Well, that was one of the odder meets we've ever been to." Serenity's ramp raised behind the three gunfighters with a heavy clank, enveloping them in the protective, if somewhat used and slightly dingy metal surroundings of the Firefly's cargo bay.
They were well away from Eros Corporate Headquarters with its marble pillars and fountains, but Captain Malcolm Reynolds was still jumpy. He patted down his browncoat and tugged on his suspenders to make sure they were still there. The scantily clad secretary in the lobby had been very helpful, and very interested, and had generally been undressing him and Jayne with her eyes the entire time. Probably moreso Jayne, which made him feel just this side of filthy.
His hired muscle didn't seem too bothered. "Now there's a woman." The big man was alight with some unwholesome fantasy, grin broad in the midst of a goatee, running meaty fingers over a complimentary box of ammunition she'd given him.
He opted not to indulge the mercenary's speculation. "Jayne. Go and store those in your bunk." Mal had asked why a company dealing in toys and romantic aids had any stock in bullets, and received an incomprehensible explanation about powdered pheromone dispersion. He didn't question any further; the CEO had been naked except for a pair of fluffy wings and what looked like a diaper. He figured the less he knew, the better.
The big man tromped off eagerly. "Thanks. Knew I wanted to be somewhere."
He exchanged a pained glance with his first mate. Tall, dark, and exotic, Zoë had gotten her share of positive attention from the secretary as well, and had reacted as she ever did: with unflappable calm. "Product must work," she appraised dryly.
A younger girl in coveralls announced herself with a patter of work boots. "Heya Cap!" his mechanic beamed at him, brightly.
Mal began trying to pry her off of him. He reminded himself that they had work, and he was in a relatively good mood, and made himself return the smile. "Hey, Kaylee. Shuttle back yet?"
"Yup!" she chirped, then released him and fixed him with a knowing look. "And Inara's back too," she corrected him, almost singsong.
He turned back to Zoë, not rising to the tease. "Go 'n tell your husband we're ready, soon as we get our cargo."
"You mean…?" Kaylee's eyes were wide, and far too enthusiastic for Mal's comfort. Zoë gave her a sly smile, and the younger girl gave a happy squeal and ran off, presumably towards the infirmary.
"That cargo stays virgin, you hear?" he yelled after them, Zoë making her way upstairs for the bridge. Maybe not the best word choice. "Unmolested!" Still no. "Untouched!"
Better. Not that they'd listen to him. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Maybe he ought to hoard some food down in his quarters and lock himself down there for the duration of the trip. Some activities his crew got up to were best not knowing about. It was worth a shot.
As if on cue, the sound echoed through the ship, and he started running for the stairs, cursing. That wasn't how he meant it, he thought. The universe, as ever, didn't care.
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Once the drugs had worn off and everyone was sufficiently bandaged, they gathered at the usual table, refusing to make eye contact. Except Book, who had wisely decided to dope himself unconscious and was looking smug. And the married couple, since the whole experience was pretty close to normal for them.
The captain cleared his throat. "We will never speak of this again."
For once, no one disagreed with his plan.