Probably, Maybe.
Summary: Simon's thinking.
Disclaimer: Don't own, never will. Too bad.
Simon doesn't know what 'this' is. A affair, a fling, relieving sexual tension? It has the ability to make him so angry one minute then warm and loved another. They shouldn't mix, couldn't. So then why hasn't one of them tried to get out yet?
Maybe, they stay in this for the company, both soldiers in their own rights, lonely as well. But is it really loneliness that compels him to leave his own room at night, just to spend a few hours wrapped up in their arms? Probably. Maybe.
He's not sure, not really sure of anything anymore. Can't be, when it seems like the alliance has finally left River and him alone. What did it cost though? Millions of deaths. Two close friends gone. Friends like he never had before, like he'll never have again.
Maybe it's guilt that spurs him to the bunk. They were his friends too. But if that were the case then wouldn't he frequent Zoe's bunk instead of his? No matter how he thinks about it, Zoe is his friend, nothing more, and while he feels guilty, he doesn't feel the need to replace her deceased husband. So, not guilt then. Probably. Maybe.
That doesn't leave Simon with many options. Perhaps pondering this at the dinner table isn't the best time. Kaylee's asked him something and all he can do is stutter out what he hopes to be the right answer.
There was a time that he felt like he was in love with Kaylee. Might have been at some point too. They had tried for a while, but it didn't take long for them to realise that they were friends and nothing more. That might have been what sent Simon to him. Probably. Maybe.
It was initiated over a bottle of alcohol, from a good run, so it wasn't that bad and they couldn't let it go to waste. Rough kisses, late night tumbles, everything you would expect from him. Except, not.
He said once that he didn't kiss on the lips, so when did that change? And late night tumbles, turned into curling up on the small bed with a large arm thrown over him. He's not sure when it changed, it just did. He doesn't mind. Just he has no idea what so ever, as to why it changed. Probably. Maybe.
What he really wants to know is, why is it that with him sitting here at the table, the other across from him, why does he feel so warm, welcomed, lo- liked? Why does he get the urge to just stand up and yell through the metal corridors of Serenity "he's mine, I'm his!" He doesn't know how to answer that. Probably. Maybe.
But if he were to look up now from his food, across the table, he would see the untameable beast, smiling at him fondly. Would notice the others rolling their eyes, they've seen it for a while now and he still wouldn't be able to answer his own questions. Like, why does he feel this way? Probably. Maybe.
And later tonight, when he's wrapped up in his arms, on the brink of sleep and a quiet confession is whispered to him, not knowing that he would hear, the answer to his questions would appear, so obvious itself. He'd wonder why he didn't get it before, but if he was truthful, he would see it was because of the lies he'd been telling himself. No more 'probably', or 'maybe'. The way he feels about Jayne Cobb is definite. No changing it, and he really doesn't want to.