A/N: So I thought it was about time that I tried to write a Firefly story, well, oneshot really. I'm not quite sure how it's turned out so feedback is GREATLY appreciated, however, flames are not.

Disclaimer: It all belongs to the genius known as Joss Whedon and 20th Century Fox.

Untouched.

That's what he was. Untouched.

His lily white skin was just as perfect as the day he stepped on board Serenity, unblemished by the harsh conditions of the outer planets and the endless black. Impeccable manners, never faltering, polite in every instance. Intelligent, a doctor from the core, educated by the best. Witty, always a sarcastic comment for Jayne's latest blunder.

Simon.

Even his name just rolls of the tongue.

Simon.

Simon in his pressed shirt and tailored vests made from the finest cloth. Simon who I would bet money wears silk boxers. Simon who smells like soap and something that can't be defined. Simon with his pretty face and good education. Simon who would never look twice at the Captain of a rundown boat like Serenity.

'Speak of the devil.' Mal thought as Simon entered the small kitchen/dining room.

As Simon prepared himself a snack of delicious protein, Mal noticed his hands. They were small, compact, yet sturdy and strong. An unusual combination, although handy for a doctor. They were the same delicate shade of white as the rest of his skin but somehow managed to stand out from the rest of his body with their precise movements. Mal felt a small shiver ascend his spine as he imagined what Simon could do with those hands.

'Stop. It's not going to happen.' He shut his eyes with a sigh and reclined in his chair.

His silent reverie was broken as the harsh clunk of Simon's plate resounded throughout the small space. Quickly, he sat up straight.

"Sorry, Captain. Did I disturb you?" He said.

"Nope, I was just about to get back to work." Mal replied, showing no sign of moving.

"Oh." Simon said, suddenly finding his plate very interesting. Was that disappointment Mal could hear?

"But I could stay, if you want."

"Really?" He sounded excited. "But, um, only if you're not too busy. It's a bit lonely in the infirmary."

"Is it now? What about you little sister then? She not keeping you company?"

"Hmm." He sounded non-committal.

"I suppose she's a bit different to other folk."

"I guess." His answer was short, abrupt. It was obviously a touchy subject.

Silence fell over the table. Mal cleared his throat and looked at the leafy trim Kaylee had painted around the kitchen nearly a year ago while Simon ate some of his snack.

"How long have you been out here Mal? In the Black?" Simon asked suddenly, breaking the slightly awkward silence.

"A long time, Doc." Mal said, not willing to divulge the truth.

"You must get lonely."

"I've got my crew." He pointed out.

"Not that kind of lonely." Simon clarified.

"Oh, right." Mal cleared his throat again, blushing and feeling more than a little awkward. "Well, life goes on."

"Hmm." Simon nodded.

Once again they lapsed into silence. Simon returned to his plate, finishing what remained of the protein. Mal rinsed his mug and started to make his way towards his bunk for a well earned afternoon nap when Simon called out to him.

"I get lonely, sometimes." He called.

Mal faltered mid-stride. He turned to face Simon.

"I thought that we could keep each other company sometime." He was whispering now, fiddling with a loose thread on his shirt.

What happened next was a blur of movement. Simon barely had time to register what was going on before Mal was kissing him with such force that he stumbled backwards.

This went on for some time until the need to breathe became too much and they broke apart, panting.

"I take it that's a yes, then." Simon said breathlessly.

Mal didn't reply, he just smiled before scooping up Simon and carrying him effortlessly towards his bunk.

His nap would have to wait.