Curious Fingers

(A/N: Trying to keep too much Riverness out of this but it's hard, being both, sorting them out.)

Fingers touch, feel; she feels deeply; her fingers are her. Fingers explore, find, shape small things; she loves new things, small things, small pleasures. Fingers branch, in different directions. There's no knowing which direction she'll go next.

She loves this ship, the freedom of it. Going to new places, trying different things, meeting all kinds of people. Every world has its own texture.

She would hate to be tied down.

She's like a child, a wild child, fingers in every honey pot, always in trouble with her folks. When she was a child, a tiny Kaywinnit, she dreamed of getting married, a swirling white princess dress and a handsome man. But children change their dreams every week, and children love to explore.

So many things ain't allowed in that world. His world.

Her curious fingers are covered in grease, Serenity's life-blood. They correct, fiddle, adjust, clean, feel the pulse and find the problem. She knows every part and every piece, left her mark and in return she gets scratches and blisters, and air to keep breathing. Serenity she understands.

Or little Kaylee fingers are spotted with green and yellow paint as she fixes the walls in the kitchen where the paint has come off or got dirty. This joy is bright and sticky, shaping the little green leaves with her brush. Simple. She smiles, focused and content crosslegged on the floor, her fingers again on Serenity, caring for her.

Remember when he walked by, not even seeing her, and she looked up and curious fingers itched to know what it would be like to touch – the beautiful lips, strong cheeks. She longed to make him smile. Make the pretty face come alive.

Now her fingers know him, all of him, and it is good as she imagined. She is happy. Content. With things the way they are, no promises made. Even though she sometimes still doesn't understand him. He still stiffens under her exploring touch, when she asks about some things.

But some questions can startle even her. She hadn't thought much about it until he asked. Before such things had always been casual for her. A ring on your finger…it ties you down. Marks you as taken. Holds you back from exploring.

Sometimes she understands Captain-Daddy better.

She still feels like a child. Too soon for this!

He was always so serious. Had he ever been a child? They were so different. His world was full of education and culture and proper-ness. She would never be proper.

There are moments when he reminds her brutally that she doesn't meet the standards he is used to. He doesn't mean to. When that happens she lashes out. Says that he's mean, or clueless. But she loves him, can't resist him, wants him to be happy.

She hurts him because she is hurt.

She feels crushed, useless; she can't be what he wants. What he expects.

So she can't promise to be.

Can't keep his ring round her finger.

Not yet.