A Mite Blurry
A/N: This was written as a treat for turtlebook as part of the first round Chocolate Box Exchange on AO3. The prompt was the pairing Mal/Inara under the theme 'woke up married in Space Vegas'.
Mal groans awake to a feeling all too much like he's been repeatedly hit over the head in a bar fight. After the first flashes of pain in his skull, the lack of other twinges and aches and the downright horrifying taste in his mouth makes him realize he had managed to find a bar the night before, but apparently left without finding a fight. And if that ain't a rare occasion, he doesn't know what is. It's not that he never has more drinks than he should, but he generally prefers to find his zen by planting a fist in the face o' someone deserving of it rather than chasing the bottom of a bottle.
As the fuzziness in his brain starts to fade a little more, other things that are a mite strange about the situation start to register. For one, there's some pretty clear clues he ain't sleeping in the familiarity of his own bunk. There's some kind of window sending a shaft of light direct across his face and trying to stab his currently over-sensitive eyeballs. He manfully resists the urge to pull the pillow over his head to block it out. The pillow and the surface he's planted on are too big and soft to be the cot-sized mattress in his bunk, and the sheets laying across his skin are some smoother material than the old blankets he owns.
The situation is an oddity, and he tries to think back to how he ended up here without aggravating the pounding in his skull. It doesn't work too well and he groans again. Mal startles when the noise triggers a corresponding but much more delicate noise of distress from next to him. Far too close next to him. Mal stiffens up at the revelation he's not alone in this big, luxurious bed he doesn't remember getting into. So in addition to being physically painful, this situation is going to end up plain uncomfortable, too. That's just great.
Mal figures himself for a man who recognizes there ain't no point in delaying bad news, and vigorously rubs one hand across his face to wake up enough to figure out how much trouble he's in. Propping himself up on his elbows, his still half-closed eyes take in the size of the room and the richness of the decorations before he forces himself to turn his attention to the other side of the bed. In his wildest imaginings, he would not have come up with just how deep he is in it, because not only is the suite he's in far too luxurious for anything he would ever be able to afford in all the jobs they pull in a year, but even without seeing much more than her hair, he recognizes the woman turned away from him.
This time he bites back the sound of the groan before it can pass his lips and resists the urge to flop down into on the pillow and curse up a blue streak. Unfortunately, the noises and moving about he's already done are enough to finally wake Inara up, and she turns with a coy look in his direction before actually registering who she's sharing a bed with. Mal is reluctantly impressed that the string of invective she mutters is more inventive than what was going through his own head. When she finally winds down, he almost doesn't catch the question directed at him.
"Please, Mal, tell me you know of some reason I'm wearing a wedding band."
Mal blurts out a confused, "Huh?"
She gives him an unimpressed look and displays a delicate hand in his face, adorned with a ring that is notably more plain and inexpensive than something he'd expect to see on Inara.
It's only then that he registers he is also wearing a matching band on his corresponding finger. He stares at it blankly for long enough that Inara gives a little cough to draw him out of it. "I know you're old-fashioned, Mal, but -"
"Hey, now, why assume this is my fault?"
She just raises an articulate eyebrow at him. Okay, yeah, most of the time Inara ends up in trouble it's because she got dragged into some mess he was in the middle of. Mal doesn't feel like being that reasonable, though, so he ponders her original question of how this happened. If it happened. Wearing actual rings is an old custom from Earth-that-Was rarely followed anymore, which only makes it stranger. He can't think of anyone he'd deal with that would expect it if they were pulling a scam, or why he'd have tried to pull off a scam that required such a ruse, or drawn Inara in particular in to do it. Course, he can't dream up any circumstance where he and Inara would run off and get hitched in truth overnight, either. It's a useless train of thought, so he returns to trying to jog his memories of the previous night.
There's not much. Things have been hard since that Operative came after River. Sure, they repaired the ship and went back to work, but so many of their contacts had been killed off and those who were left were more than a mite skittish. It was only recently things had started to smooth out to where they weren't in a constant state of worry about where the next job was coming from.
After an unusually profitable last run, as an effort to give them all a little relaxation and have a meet with a potential contact, he'd directed River to take them to a luxury station. It was an oddity for being built far enough past the outer edge of the Core he felt comfortable going there. Technically it was intended as an exotic destination for Core folk, but early on the station had been christened New Vegas in remembrance of an old Earth city. Like its predecessor, after a few years it had become more known for organized crime, gambling and – oh no. Mal winces. For just a moment, he's got a very clear mental picture of a man in a shepherd's collar.
Inara had been the one to mainly talk him into this little trip, in point of fact, suggesting it would be good for the crew. For River, who is still getting used to being their pilot, even if the girl is a bona fide genius. For Simon and Kaylee, who he feels like he is constantly having to hustle back to their jobs from where they're making mooncalf eyes at one another. For Zoe, who may not be showing it on the outside so much, but who he knows well enough to know could use some time to grieve without worrying about the next job goin' wrong. For Jayne, who they really have to give a break every now and then or he starts wanting to blow things up and trying to provoke a fight to do so. And though it's not part of their discussion, he mentally adds in that it's also for Inara herself, who is used to luxuries and has given them up to stay on Serenity.
He remembers arriving, and the crew heading off in various directions, with he, Zoe, and Jayne all going to the same bar. He remembers being a couple drinks in when Inara had suddenly appeared on the stool next to him and ordered a double shot of some fancy Sihnon sake. He remembers taunting her about it just to get that confrontational spark to appear in her eyes, and trying not to show how impressed he is when she slams it back and asks for two more and hands him one. Things blend into a haze of liquor after that. Well, that answers a few of his questions, but raises a whole herd more.
While his brain is tryin' to melt right out his ears, Inara gets up and slips out of the far side of the bed. Mal turns away quickly at the clingy silken shift and bare limbs on display, not because he doesn't want to look, but because he wants to look too much. She slides on a matching robe from the side of the bed and glides over to the vid console. Without any particular inflection she tells him, "We're in the honeymoon suite of the Bel Atlantica."
When Mal doesn't move or respond, she adds, "Registered as Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds." She turns only her head in his direction, looking unusually mussed and real. It calls up another flash of recollection in his head, this time of her hauling him along by the hand to what he figures has to be the check in counter of this very hotel. The mischievous expression she tossed him over her shoulder warms him no less as a memory. Either the reality or the memory would be distracting enough alone, but together they're a doozy. It's not surprising she has to practically yell at him a couple of times to bring his attention back to the matter at hand. "Mal!"
He's off kilter and while he might otherwise be up for a fight, his head is still hammering enough that seems like a purely bad plan, even worse than his usual. So he asks instead, fairly reasonably he feels, "You reckon you might have a memory or two as to what happened last night?"
"I take it you don't, then," Inara responds shortly. She might be just slightly offended if he's reading her right.
Aw, hell, he thinks. Problem is, he has been tryin' real hard not to fight with Inara since she came back on board. He gets the impression she may be workin' towards the same end, because things between the two of them have been pure awkward since she came back.
He figured when she chose to stay on with them rather than returning to her place at the training house it had to mean something. What, he wasn't purely sure. He wasn't one for hope, and maybe she just needed some time to get back her equilibrium. Even traveling the outer planets with Serenity for over a year, she'd never quite had to come to terms with the kind of horrors the Alliance she still had faith in was capable of. Even he had found it hard not to choke on the revelations of Miranda, and he'd been purely convinced of their villainy since before the war.
The two of them have been dancing around each other practically since the moment Inara's fancy shoes stepped on board to inspect the shuttle she declared he was gonna rent to her. Before Miranda, well, to be truthful, before Nandi, they both tried to deny it was anything and worked out the tension between them by fighting over every little thing. The Inara who comes back isn't exactly meek, nor even particularly shy about makin' her opinions known. There is, however, a softliness, a conciliatory kind of manner to her interactions with him – reminds him of nothing so much as that little conversation she tried to spring on him over tea right afore the Lassiter job. Wiles.
There's nothing he wants less from her than that. He purely misses the Inara who got flustered and wasn't afraid to get loud or jab at every soft spot she knew he had when they disagreed. The one with a spine of steel and fire in her eyes that didn't back down any more than he did once she'd made up her mind on something. He likes her soft smiles being directed at him upon occasion, but not when they're a mask to hide the real woman underneath. He just doesn't know how to bring out that side of her without it coming from a place of aggravation and he's never been good enough with words to not be a little afraid to try.
She may have left directly after he nearly confessed he cared about her and then come back, but that don't mean she came back for him. Serenity was her home for more than a year. After all the shakeups, it's just possible she simply wants someplace to feel safe and recuperate before leavin' again. If that's the case, he ain't going to stick his foot in where it's not wanted. So he's spent a couple months tying his wits and his tongue in knots. Mostly trying to ask her if she wants to be let off somewhere without implying he wants her gone. Sometimes just trying not to let himself beg she stay for good and purely embarrassing them both.
Leaving it all up to Inara, indefinite and safely distant forever if she wanted it that way, was the plan. Leastaways it was before whatever happened last night. Speaking of which, Inara is now giving him one of her oh-so-patient looks, still waiting for him to come back from his wandering thoughts to talk about what he might remember of last night.
"Can't say as I do," he finally says, then shrugs. "Might change once my head stops ringin'."
"Typical," she huffs, and she's going to say something else, and he's waiting quite eagerly to see what, because those Companion-training kid gloves she's been wearing constantly for months seem to be entirely absent this morning. As such, Mal figures starting a fight at this point surely can't make things much worse. Before she can respond, though, the vid screen rings with an incoming call, and the two of them exchange a perplexed look.
Inara composes a serene expression and accepts the call. He can't see the screen from where he is (and he really needs to find his pants before he does anything else) but he recognizes the voice that seems loud in the quiet room, as well as the suppressed amusement in it. "Capta – Inara. River said you two had quite an interesting night."
Kaylee's voice cuts in over Zoe's, exuberant, "We figured she was just messin' with us!"
Mal denies his childish impulse to pull the covers over his head and hide. The only thing more potentially awkward than the conversation he needs to have with Inara is having that conversation with the whole of the crew listening in.
"Interesting is certainly one word for it. You'll have to excuse me, but check out time is in less than an hour, so I'll have to cut this short. We'll see you back on the ship soon." Inara clearly feels the same way - it's a polite dismissal, but it's still a dismissal, and she suits action words and closes the call.
As soon as the wave is off and he knows he's not going to embarrass Inara by flashing his bare ass in view of the camera, Mal finally climbs out of the bed and looks for his clothes. He doesn't pay any particular attention to what Inara's doing until the door to what he assumes is the bathroom clicks shut. Finding his pants half under the bed awakes another memory, this one of stripping them off himself and climbing into the bed just before passing out. He can't decide if it's a relief or a disappointment nothing more interesting happened since he can't remember it. The last part of the memory is Inara's voice, quietly saying, "Goodnight Mal" and something brushing over his hair.
Somehow having his clothes on doesn't make him feel any less naked and awkward when she comes back out, fully dressed herself. Inara packs up a few things she had in a bag (he only has a moment to wonder how she managed that), drops it on the bed, and walks over to stand in front of him.
"I remember last night," she says, looking up at him from under her lashes. He raises an eyebrow almost involuntarily, and one side of her mouth quirks upwards. "I'm not blaming you, Mal, it's been both of us that have made things strange since Miranda. Maybe there was a better way, but I just got tired of trying to figure out how to get you to be real with me. I thought maybe alcohol would make things a little less awkward, so I got you drunk." She pauses for a long moment to just look at him, and she continues in a teasing tone, her eyes all too knowing for his peace of mind, "I learned all kinds of interesting things."
That – was just about the last thing he'd have predicted to be comin' out of her mouth at this juncture. Mal also thinks 'all kinds of interesting things' is an incredibly worrisome turn of phrase. He can't quite help how his voice goes defensive. "You wanna maybe clarify what you mean by that?"
"You told me you were afraid I was going to leave, and missed how I used to argue with you. I believe you even compared us to an old married couple at one point, but that was after quite a lot of sake, so I'm not entirely sure." She smiles and gives a slight shift of her shoulders in a delicate shrug. "Not quite my original plan, but it almost worked for Saffron, and she was never half so clever as she thought."
Mal blinks blankly at her as the words try to register to his baffled mind. "Inara, are you saying you actually went and got us hitched on purpose? Then what was the meaning of going on like you didn't know?"
"Well, you didn't exactly offer up any objections last night, and this morning I wanted to see what you'd do." The gorram woman is outright grinning at him now, clearly pleased he's boggled.
She rolls her eyes at him, still with that smug little grin. "If you want an annulment, we've got a week to file." She steps closer, and tilts her face up, just inches away from his, and he holds his breath at her expression. "Or we could agree, together, to stop tiptoeing around each other in circles."
He has to clarify, because he's starting to wonder if maybe he was wrong about taking a few knocks to the head last night. "Married. Us - married?"
She doesn't back down at all, and he realizes he can smell her perfume. Mal wonders if that is what's making him feel dizzy all of a sudden.
"Of course if you don't want to," Inara adds, suggestively trailing off, and he swears she's just about to kiss him, the way her eyes drift down to his lips and back, and well, if she doesn't? He just might do it for her.
He shakes himself out of the thought long enough to formulate a reply. "No, no. I just -"
She smiles brighly. He blinks, and suddenly she's all the way over by the bed, grabbing her bag, leaving him feeling weirdly bereft. "Good. We should get back to our ship."
"Our ship? Now hold on -"
He swears she does nothing but laugh at him all the way back to Serenity. Worst of all, he's not entirely sure he minds. As crazy and turned around as she can make him feel with just a few words, that's who they are. This new tie between them may clarify a bit where they both stand, but it doesn't fix everything by a long shot. He's damn sure they'll have more than a few fights coming their way in the future. He's not just counting on it, he's kinda looking forward to it.