I wrote this a while back after a friend and I had a discussion about the need for autistic representation in Sci-Fi that doesn't come from aliens or robots. Thus, Autistic!Kaylee. This is my first Firefly fic, so please enjoy and let me know what you think.

Kaylee had to admit she had her concerns when Mal asked her to join his crew, not the least of which was her folks' permission. That was a matter of careful wording and eye contact and being able to sit still for once, a matter of convincing them that she was ready, that she was okay, that she was somehow normal enough. They eventually agreed to part with her, as she had hoped they would. All things considered, leaving behind her parents was the easy part. Mal was an entirely different story, and when she arrived back at Serenity (such a pretty lady) with a bag of coveralls thrown over her shoulder, she hesitated on how much to tell him. It was her right, she figured, to keep her mouth shut and let the Captain figure her out when they were as many planets away from home as possible. All the same, she reckoned it wasn't right to lie to nobody, especially the man who had given her this opportunity. So she pulled Mal aside just before take-off, because she didn't want to give him too much time to think this over. She wanted the verdict to come quickly, and she wanted to spend as much time on Serenity as possible if she was going to have to leave her later.

"Mal-er-Captain?" She had to look up and up to even pretend that she was looking him in the eyes.

"No reason you gotta call me Captain, if you don't like," he said with a shrug, and she thought that if she looked into his eyes at that exact moment they would have been warm and-if not exactly kind, then friendly, and funny.

"Thank you for letting me come on board," she started up, remembering her manners, remembering to preface everything with all the politeness and more than she could muster, an attempt that, more often than not, came across as overly formal and odd, even in her own ears. "But-" the words froze in her throat, somewhere between "there's something you should know," and "I think you made a mistake."

"But what?" Mal prompted. "I'm assuming you ain't on the run from the Alliance or nothing, little girl like you. You got some kind of story I never heard before? I can promise you I've heard them all."

She didn't think he had heard this one, then again she wasn't going to sell him short. He had seen more of the 'Verse than she had, and she knew that. She ran her fingers over the strap of her bag, which she had carried around all day, like she would lose it, or lose herself if she let it go. She was still packed, she wanted to say, in case she had to go. Of course, she didn't want to go. "There's something-" she paused, considered her word choice, "something wrong with my brain, is what my folks say," she cringed, not knowing a word for it. Knowing a word for whatever she was implied doctors and money, and more than that, it implied the Alliance and vague horror stories that she didn't quite believe were true (she would find out later that they were all true). "It means I'm real good, real good at ships and engines, and real bad at people, at being around them and being like them," if it wasn't a nuanced explanation, if it left out half of her struggles and anxieties, if it trampled over her feelings indelicately, it was all she could manage at the moment.

She paused, feeling breathless, and beginning to rock back and forth on the balls of her feet, angry because she didn't have a better explanation, and because it sounded stupid when she said it out loud. She averted her eyes because she was sure Mal was looking at her like she was stupid. She felt stupid, her usual optimism dampened by how suddenly afraid she was. She was finally in a place that she wanted to stay in, getting to do what she loved, and she felt as though she was killing her chances by saying all the wrong things.

"Well, Little Kaylee," Mal started, sounding perplexed and somewhat amused, but not disbelieving, "can I ask you a question?"

"Yes. Yessir. Yes."

"You got some plans I ain't heard of yet to be our Companion?"

"Of course not! I'm no fine lady like that."

"Well, then, I'm not quite following why you gotta be good at talking to people to be good at talking to my ship's engines."

She looked up at him with hopeful uncertainty.

"You got work to do, and you got a place to lay your head, as long as this ship is in the air. What you do when you aren't fixing her is your business. You feel better staying away from us all, that's your right, and it's shiny with me."

His words sounded harsh, but she guessed he didn't mean them that way. She nodded, finally able to steal a glance at his eyes. If nothing else, he seemed to believe her. To believe in her. So she didn't say what was on the tip of her tongue: that she never said she didn't like people, only that she wasn't good at them. That one day he would be as frustrated by her as everyone else was. That was something he would figure out on his own, she supposed. It wasn't quite what she had wanted him to get from the conversation, and not quite what she had wanted to hear, but it would have to do. She still had a place here, always would, he said. That would have to satisfy her for the moment.

It took her a minute to realize that Mal was walking away without another word, going to do all the things she had distracted him from. He was almost gone when he looked back, grinned, and added, "besides, how many people do you know who travel on a Firefly and have everything right in their brains?"

She was half-tempted to be hurt, but all things considered she reckoned he was right.