Of Cotton Swabs and Infirmary Floors

Disclaimer: As much as I'd like to believe so, I do not own any part of the Firefly/Serenity verse.

A/N: Written from the prompt: Q-tips smell funny. Dedicated to kk or art can go boom for supplying me with a random sentence.

Also, Read and Review? Please? Pretty please? 400+ hits, 7 reviews... 400+ hits, 7 reviews... Something about that just doesn't quite add up.

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Ai ya, thought Malcolm Reynolds, Where the gui does the doctor keep the ruttin' bandages?

Sucking on his right index finger, Mal used his left had to open a cupboard. He found an assortment of medicines, but no bandages. Grumbling, Mal thought, How is it that such a small thing like a paper cut can hurt and bleed almost as much as a goram bullet wound? Anyways, Mental Note: Have the doc tell me whenever he rearranges the med bay.

Proceeding to the next cupboard, Mal found more medicine. On the top shelf, however, was a small white box. Curious, Mal opened it to find it filled with cotton swabs. Moving to put the lid back on the box, a voice from behind asked,

"Are you looking for something?"

Startled, Mal dropped the box of swabs, spilling them all over the floor.

"Goramit." Mal grunted, moving to pick up the cotton swabs. "It's noth-" THUD.

From her place at the entrance of the infirmary, Inara chuckled.

"Are you alright, Mal?" she asked, hiding a smile. "Or are the Q-tips to much for you to handle?"

Sprawled on his back on the infirmary's floor, Mal couldn't figure out what exactly was so funny. Sure, he'd slipped on a cotton swab, but was it really that amusing? Either way, he certainly didn't want Jayne to find out about the Q-tip's victory.

Inara, still chuckling, carefully made her way over to Mal. Reaching out a hand, she began to help him up.

But the Q-tips weren't ready to let their victim go.

Slipping for a second time, Mal brought the companion down with him.

Naturally, this was the point where Jayne had to pass by the infirmary.

He saw three things:

Mal, on his back, on the floor.

Inara, laying on Mal, hair obscuring their faces and skirt covering their legs.

And a single cotton swab, resting innocently at his feet.

"Huh," He grunted, picking it up. Turning away from his embarrassed captain and a flustered companion, Jayne examined the Q-tip. A short, white piece of plastic with a little piece of cotton on each end. Raising it to his nose, he sniffed it.

Giving his head a shake, he tossed the swab over his shoulder. As he left the infirmary, Jayne muttered,

"Q-Tips smell funny."