AN: Yes, that's right! I've returned to my roots and written a Firefly fic for the first time in ages. Hopefully there are a few fans of my older Firefly fics who still follow me and will appreciate this one. It was written for the Whedon Secret Santa Fanworks Exchange for hedwig123 (on tumblr). The prompt I received was 'Simon/Kaylee cuteness' and I like to think I followed that pretty close to the letter ;)
This fic borrows (very) heavily from the Star Trek: The Next Generation episode 'Second Chances' (sorry, I guess?). Happy holidays everyone!
Summary: Simon has been on the receiving end of some extravagant gifts in his life—large sums of money from relatives who rarely spoke to him, favours from his parents' friends to further his studies or his career—but none of those things had been done with anywhere near as much thoughtfulness as this.
The clink of cutlery punctuates the pleasant rumble of conversation as the crew partake of their evening meal.
"This is delicious, Shepherd," Simon says, lifting another spoonful of protein broth to his lips. There are murmurs and slurps of agreement from all sides of the long wooden table.
"I do what I can," Book says with a humble smile.
It occurs to Simon that there was a time not so long ago when he would have thought the words 'protein broth' and 'delicious' had no business at all being associated together. Just last week he'd been lamenting the lack of access to fresh fruit, but the truth is that lately his life as a whole had somehow found its way from being simply tolerable to actually feeling comfortable, even enjoyable, at times.
In his peripheral vision, Kaylee switches her spoon to her left hand and puts her right in her lap. She keeps it there for all of five seconds before she sneaks it over to lace her fingers through his under the table.
He acknowledges her covert flirting with a sideways glance and a small smile. She smiles back, her face warmed by the golden glow of the galley lights.
He doesn't know if his burgeoning relationship with Kaylee is a cause or a symptom of his newfound contentment, but the truth is it's probably both.
The fact that he's been able to keep River's mental state relatively stable for several months now has done a lot to mitigate his stress levels, and with less stress comes less foot-in-mouth syndrome on his part. He still makes the odd gaff in Kaylee's presence, but fortunately for him she seems to have decided not to take his screw-ups so personally.
The small touches they share are like bright spots of light sprinkled through his day: the playful nudge of her hip, the light brush of his fingers over her wrist, his hand on the small of her back, her head on his shoulder. They haven't kissed yet, but he can feel it drawing closer with every moment they spend together.
He's hoping to spend some time with her this evening—most nights of late they'd found a few minutes to sit and talk together in her bunk or his—but when Inara excuses herself from the table, Kaylee does the same, eyes trained on her friend.
She gives his fingers a quick squeeze, then releases them and follows after Inara, catching up to her before she reaches the door. The two of them head towards Inara's shuttle, talking with lowered voices and knowing smiles like sisters with a secret, so Simon busies himself helping the Shepherd with the dishes, then does some reading in the nook off the dining area.
After a while, the familiar clunks of bunk hatches being closed for the night echoes down the hall from the crew quarters and he decides to turn in as well. He slips the bookmark back between the yellowed pages of his book and makes his way down to his room.
He slides the door open and the first thing to catch his eye is a note on his pillow, rolled up and tied with brown string. He quickly scans the rest of the room for anything else out of the ordinary, but, finding nothing, he goes straight to the bed and unfurls the small piece of paper.
Meet me in the infirmary at 10pm.
Kaylee x
Simon sinks down onto the bed, re-reading the message written in Kaylee's scrawling, rounded handwriting. If this was an issue of ship's business, or a medical concern, she would surely come straight to him, and the little 'x' at the end would tend to indicate fairly strongly that whatever this is, it's personal rather than professional.
He checks the wall clock, which reads 9:40pm. A vague concern arises that she's about to proposition him for kinky sex in the infirmary, which wouldn't be his first choice (call him old-fashioned) but he'll cross that bridge when he comes to it.
He runs a comb over his hair, brushes his teeth and checks in on a soundly-sleeping River. With ten minutes still to go he attempts a little more reading, but fails spectacularly at keeping his attention on the words and ultimately ends up pacing the room until the allotted time.
It takes mere seconds to walk from his room to the infirmary, perhaps even less than usual, the way his steps are quickened by anticipation.
Instead of Kaylee, he finds another note, rolled up and tied with twine just like the last one. He picks it up off the counter and unrolls it to discover a single chocolate wrapped in gold foil, and another message.
It pulses unendingly all through the night,
Seek out the engine that powers our flight.
A grin creeps across his face. It's a treasure hunt.
This might just be the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for him. He slips the piece of paper and the chocolate into his pocket and does as the clue bids, making his way up the stairs to the engine room.
He gets there to find the light left on for him and another note hanging off the end of the huge, rotating piece of machinery. This one is wrapped around a small flower made of folded paper.
What the future holds no one can know,
But forward we look and forward we go.
He catches the scent of something that's not metal or grease, and when he lifts the flower to his nose he recognises the smell of the light floral perfume Kaylee sometimes wears. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply one more time, then eases the delicate bit of origami into his other pocket and returns to the gangway that brought him there.
He heads for the front of the ship, crossing back through the empty galley. He pads quietly past crew quarters, not wanting to disturb anyone sleeping below, and steps through the doorway into the cockpit.
He is greeted by a picnic blanket spread out on the floor with a couple of cushions at its edge. In the centre is a plate with a chunk of yellow, crumbly-looking cheese, along with some crackers, a small handful of dried figs and slices of fresh pear. Beside it is a dish with a few more foil-wrapped chocolates, plus a bottle of wine and two mismatched mugs.
Kaylee, meanwhile, is perched on the edge of the console, grinning at her own hijinks. Behind her, the autopilot light blinks steadily on, and the stars glisten in the velvety blackness, accentuated by the lowered lights.
"Kaylee, what is this?" he asks, an incredulous smile spreading over his face.
"Thought it might be nice to have a little picnic under the stars," she says, like it's no big deal.
He drifts closer. "Where did you get all this?" He vaguely remembers mentioning something the other week about how much he missed real cheese.
"Had a few coins stashed away," she says with a little shrug. "Fixed the shopkeeper's mule in town yesterday in exchange for the rest. 'Nara helped me with the rhymes, by the way. I ain't that poetical," she smiles.
Simon's heart swells, a sweet ache tightening his chest. He knows for a fact she doesn't have much money to her name, and these little delicacies couldn't have been cheap. He's been on the receiving end of some extravagant gifts in his life—large sums of money from relatives who rarely spoke to him, favours from his parents' friends to further his studies or his career—but none of those things had been done with anywhere near as much thoughtfulness, or sacrifice, as this.
"Kaylee—"
I don't deserve you are the words that spring to mind, but they catch in his throat, so he closes the distance between them and kisses her instead.
She makes a soft sound of surprise but recovers quickly, twining her arms around his neck. Her lips are soft and dry and she kisses even more sweetly than in his fantasies. His hands find her hips, sliding over the smooth, warm skin between the hem of her top and the bottom half of her coveralls. It's like he can actually feel his oxytocin levels spike, flooding his system with rosy warmth.
When she parts her lips she tastes like chocolate and Simon can't help but smile, even though it ruins the kiss.
"You started without me," he comments, licking his lips.
She grins, utterly shameless. "I like you plenty, Simon, but chocolate's always gonna be my one true love."
She flattens her palms to his chest and pushes him gently away so she can stand up straight, then takes his hand and pulls him down to sit beside her on the blanket.
She carves off a slice of cheese, puts it on a cracker and passes it to him. He takes a bite and hums appreciatively at the rich flavour of the sharp, crumbly cheddar. Kaylee beams as her fingers peel the foil from another chocolate, and Simon decides this is the best date he's ever been on.
For a long time he'd thought this sort of happiness was something he'd never experience again. He's never been more glad to be so thoroughly wrong.