Title: Lines and Boundaries
Pairing: Smal/Mimon
Rating: Uhm. PG-13, I guess? I'm never good at this.
Disclaimer: You know the drill, I'm not the owner or originator.
Summary: Lines and boundaries are there for a reason.
Spoilers/Warnings: Mimon/Smal. That means m/m. So. Y'know.
Author's Notes: No beta so all mistakes are mine.
If there was one thing Mal knew, it was boundaries. Lines drawn firm and taught, meant to be blurred and crossed later. Mal had lived on the edge most of his life, born on a rim planet, moving from there to war, and from war, to smuggling and thievery. If life was a line, Mal was a tightrope walker.
Simon knew this. Simon was a man of smooth unadultered lines, of stark contrasts, of lines not to be crossed. Mal knew that. Mal thought he knew Simon, which was why he was so surprised when he found Simon waiting for him in his bunk.
Simon smiled coyly at Mal, waiting for him to adjust, to figure out the best way to approach this, to realize that Simon really meant what Mal first thought.
"Somethin' wrong, Doc?" Simon cocks his head, smiling softly.
"Maybe." Mal nods, slightly, pretending he understands, and Simon lets him. Lets Mal step forward, keeps standing still, in a spot he know won't interfere with Mal's routine, and waits.
Breathes in tight when Mal brushes past him, and prays to a God he never knew to help him keep his cool.
"Can I help you with something, Doc?" Mal asks, suspenders down, shirt untucked and half way unbuttoned.
Simon swallows, answers hoarsely. "Yes, actually."
Mal nods, and pulls his shirt off. Waits for his answer, watching the doctor.
Simon blinks, gulps, and steps forward, crossing a line he never thought he would. And Mal tells him this later, when they lay breathless in his bunk.