"Tzuh muh luh?"

Captain Malcolm Reynolds, better known to his friends as 'Mal', was good at a few things. He was good at running a ship, if you ignored the guidebook on 'running a ship' completely and launched into your own techniques, and he was good at drinking any man, woman or other personnel under the table. He was good at shouting a gun too but ta ma de there was no point in handing him a sword and expecting him to live. What Mal was no good at, was keeping himself out of trouble. That he was alive was – by his word and that of almost every other he knew – nothing short of a gorram miracle. This time, he'd stumbled home with blood rolling down his face, a torn neck, and enough bruises to make him look like 'one of those fucking blue things wearing hats they used to show to kids', if Jayne was to be believed. Simon Tam was unimpressed and had dragged him practically by his ear into the med bay with a dark look on his face and Mal – feeling as though he was nursing a hangover – was in no fit state to argue. He was planted on a bed and forced to his back as the doctor looked over him with disapproving eyes.

"You're an idiot. You know that, don't you?" Simon groaned, dropping painkiller pills into his hand from an unmarked, chipped brown bottle. Mal didn't bother arguing where the supplies had come from this time or how safe they were likely to be as he knocked them back dry, wincing in pain. Simon – showing no sympathy for the pain – continued to berate him as he reached for a needle and thread. "What kind of Captain goes and nearly gets himself killed when he has a crew depending on him?"

"The kind that wants a crew to come back to." Simon was only lucky Jayne hadn't thought to pack any grenades this time. "And ta ma de... They started it!"

"They?" Simon sighed. "Do I really want to know?"

"All five of them!" Mal waved one arm erratically, then grimaced and let it drop back down to the bed. Simon rolled his eyes and – after a sigh – gave him one more of the painkillers. Mal took it gratefully, red at the cheeks, then scowled and glanced upwards. "Give me some credit, Doctor, I can take two or three men in a fight."

"Kwong juh duh."

"It's all true."

"And all of these?"

Simon used a pen to point at the old and new scars on Mal's chest, not to mention the freshly bruised lacerations that would need looking at today. He continued to unbutton Mal's shirt, pulling it slowly off his shoulders so as not to hurt him further and hanging it over the back of a chair. Rather than blush, or try to cover up, Mal put his hands over a bare patch of his chest and raised an eyebrow almost as though he was daring Simon to say something about it. Or coming on to him. Run tse duh fwotzoo it was hard to tell where Mal was concerned...!

"Just scratches. They'll heal."

Simon snorted. "And Inara's stories of the same scars? All nonsense?"

Despite everything he'd ever said Simon had done his best to get to know the crew, and Mal was no exception. And even when he'd first come to Serenity he knew that nobody knew Mal quite like Inara did; she didn't know all of him, but she had the best chance of ever finding out. Mal's immediate response made it clear just how highly he thought of her, and Simon pulled a face, risking rubbing Mal's collarbone in the pretence of trying to calm him down. As a doctor, of course.

"Inara doesn't know a gorram thing about my scars!" Mal growls.

Simon snaps. "Inara knows a gorram lot more than you think she does!."

"She won't do a gorram thing with me so how can she have a gorram clue about no gorram scars!"

"She probably never will so stop getting so niao." Although he'd been snarling before, Mal suddenly paused, his fury dying away with the doctor's words. Was Simon... Jealous? He'd turned his back so quickly, but the moment had passed as soon as it came; Simon was still lecturing him. "And stop swearing. It's vulgar."

"Lao tyen, boo!" Although childish, Mal thought his response was fair enough. He ached – all over – and Simon was behaving like a guh jun duh hwoon dahn! He growled under his breath and tried to push away Simon's working hand. "Should I talk to the Shepherd about it?"

"It's putting me off my stitching."

"Sure it is doc." Mal swore again, for good measure, then pouted as Simon prepped his needle again, holding Mal's shoulder down as he cut the excess thread away then made the last couple of stitches. Mal was left speaking through gritted teeth. "Well, you swore too."

"I'm the doctor, I'm allowed to."

"Don't push your luck."

"Don't push yours."

Kao... Simon swore inwardly; they were bickering like a married couple. It was almost intimate, and a passer-by might have thought that they were friends, kao, even another member of the crew might have.

"Ni ta ma de. Tianxia suoyoude ren. Dou gaisi."

"Now that was uncalled for."

"Besides-"

"What?"

Mid argument, Mal hadn't realised a new voice had entered the fray.

"You just admitted to the scars."

No one ever heard River coming. She just sort of... Appeared when she wanted to be somewhere. Although it unnerved most of the crew – no matter what they had to say about it – Mal had grown sort of used to the girl. Little Albatross, he called her, when nobody else was around, because nobody was allowed to think that he was going soft. Mal narrowed his eyes and tried to push himself up onto his elbows only to have Simon push him back down again. Instead, he glared half-heartedly at River, the painkillers already making him fong luh.

"Sheh sheh, xiao meimei, for nothing."

"Leave her be, Mal, she's-"

"Boo tai jung tzahng duh?"

"I was going to say nyen ching duh."

"I dong ma Cantonese, you know."

"Wuo hun." Mal rolled his eyes, then batted his eyelashes. River seemed less than impressed. "I won't do it again."

"You better."

River made no move to leave, instead leaning in close to Mal's face and studying him and his wounds intently. Mal pulled a face and raised an eyebrow, but he knew there was no use in trying to reason with her. If this was what she wanted to do then there was no stopping River Tam. He kept the eyebrow lifted but managed a weak smile at her – not wanting to lie about the pain, not to her – and River – apparently satisfied – leaned back on her heels and rocked carefully. With a hum of something between relief and exhaustion, Mal turned his head to face Simon.

"Can I get more painkillers?"

"No."

"Then is she gonna hang around here now, Doc? Not exactly professional."

"Bizui."

"Make me." Simon tapped the edge of the needle he'd had hidden behind his back against one knuckle and then plunged the steel tip into Mal's forearm. "That'll work."

"Sweet dreams, Captain."

Waiting until River's attention was averted Simon placed a gentle kiss on Mal's forehead and got back to work with some peace and quiet. River noticed anyway. "Mal likes Inara, Simon."

"Nah mei guan shee." Simon coughed, and pulled his hand away from Mal's chest, ears red as the blood spread across Mal's body. River snorted and half jumped out of the sick bay, leaving her brother muttering to himself. "Nothing at all..."

Title: Stubborn Martinet

What's going on

Damn it

Damn

That's nonsense

Merciful Buddha

Angry

Oh god, no

A real bastard

Goddamnit

Everyone under the heavens ought to die

Loopy

Thank you, little sister

Not quite sane

Young

Understand

I am very ashamed

Shut up

That has nothing to do with it