Anything But Fine
By: The General
Pairing: Mal/Inara
Disclaimer: I do not own Firefly/Serenity or any of these characters. They belong to Joss Whedon, Tim Minear, Mutant Enemy, etc. If they're willing to part with Cap'n Tight Pants, I would be more than willing to take him off their hands. Or Jayne. I'm just sayin'. The title comes from a beautiful song by ZOX, which I just felt was so Mal/Inara.
Description: 4 times Mal and Inara were civil toward each other, and one time they were honest.
Rating: PG-13, for adult situations and futuristic swearing
TG/N: It wasn't until last year that I finally discovered the brilliance that is Firefly. For some reason, I'm always coming into Whedon shows at least five years too late. But in any case, I became completely enthralled with the 'verse and the characters, specifically the UST between the captain and the space hooker. Every scene the two of them shared, my heart just cried out, "DO SOMETHING!" And because the BDM did NOTHING, I repeat, NOTHING to satisfactorily put a resolve of any kind to their relationship, it remained up to me to write one for them. This was supposed to be in one installment, but the parts turned out longer than I expected, so I'm just going to upload each vignette to its own chapter. Takes place intermittently throughout the series. This is my first Firefly fic, so I really hope you all enjoy it.
i. that one time in the beginning
It hadn't even been a week, and already he regretted taking in Inara Serra as a passenger—or tenant, really—on Serenity.
His ship, by the way. Not hers. Just in case that needed clearin' up for anyone who wasn't too understandable 'bout the concept.
Particularly, her.
He had gone beyond the call of duty to be polite to her, or so he had thought. He'd given her free roam of Serenity, had offered her any of the food stock in the mess, had allowed her to freely conduct her business on whatever planet they landed on. Basically, he had been the perfect host.
So this blatant . . . usurpation made no ruttin' sense!
That was his chair. Not hers.
"Good morning, sir," Zoe greeted over her cup of tea as Mal stalked into the mess. She set her cup on the table, an unusual smirk playing at her lips, and proceeded to stab a block of protein with her fork. "You appear to be in an unusually pleasant mood."
Mal just glared at his first mate, his annoyance steadily growing as her smirk evolved into a full blown smile.
Jayne, who hadn't picked up on the sarcasm, snorted in disdain from across the table. He absentmindedly twirled his knife around in his free hand. "What're you talkin' about, Zoe?" he asked, mouth nearly full with food. "The Cap'n don't look pleasant-like. What's amatter, Mal? Patience shoot you again or somethin'?"
"I—What? No!" he finally decided to be an appropriate response. Or at least, an available one. "Why does everyone just assume it's got somethin' to do with me gettin' shot? That happened a very long time ago."
Both Jayne and Zoe ignored him, and began laughing quietly among themselves. Mentally, he reminded himself to start docking their pay some next job they got. He had just begun to tally by how much when Inara turned around in her seat—his seat, gorramit—and spoke. "Good morning, Captain. Is there something wrong?" she wondered.
Somethin' about her sudden inclusion—whether that initial smile, the soothing tone of her voice, or the way her eyebrow arched perfectly, like a facial question mark—threw him off his guard, and usually when that happened, he started gettin' honest. Sometimes it made things go the opposite of well. Like the situation with Patience, for example.
"Yer sittin' . . . that's my chair," he admitted, sounding slightly put out and annoyed at the same time. He couldn't help but notice that he sounded a mite more whingeful than he'd intended.
Inara's face fell. "Oh, I didn't realize . . . I could move—" She began to get out of her chair.
But Zoe clamped her hand around the companion's slender wrist, nonverbally communicating that she should stay right where she was.
"Oh, that won't be necessary," Zoe assured Inara with that smile, her eyes never left Mal. "I'm sure the Captain don't mind sitting elsewhere today, do you, sir?"
Fury seemed to clamp his mouth shut as Mal found he couldn't mutter any response. He felt the muscle in his jaw throb in irritation. What was so ruttin' difficult about the concept 'Mal's—the captain's—Chair?' Never figured he'd have to put his name on the ruttin' thing, but in light of this unfortunate new development . . .
"Sir?" This time, more pointed.
It took everything in him for Mal not to sigh out loud in angered defeat. Instead, he took to mumbling his way to the other end of the table, and collapsed into the open chair, arms crossed over his chest. Zoe was still smilin' when she redirected her attention back to Inara, carrying on their conversation from earlier, and Jayne continued laughing to himself, muttering something to the effect of, "Always gets all titchy-like when Patience shoots 'im, like he's on the gorram rag or somethin'."
Mal, content in his seething, chose to ignore both Jayne and Zoe, settling instead on glaring angrily across the table at Serenity's newest resident. Didn't help matters much that when she caught him starin' from across the way, she smiled in such a way that made him almost forget why he was mad in the first place. Or even how to breathe.
He shook the fog off. Gorram woman had no respect for a captain's right to seats.
That was his ruttin' chair, gorramit.