Disclaimer: They're all Whedon's.
Author's Note: Behold, unevenness and wild abandon!
The mess smells of powdered basil and canned tomato sauce when Mal and Inara slip in, considerably overdressed and looking like they've got a secret. They're just coming back from town, and the little gleam of conspiracy in their eyes means either they've brought everyone presents or they've landed a particularly lucrative job. Simon and Kaylee, hip to hip on their side of the table, share a look.
"Has dinner become a formal affair?" Simon says, eyeing Mal's suit and cravat and Inara's finest remaining red silk (the nicest thing she hasn't sold off yet).
"You gonna tease me about bein' fancified, Doctor?" Mal says pointedly, glaring even as he pulls out Inara's chair for her. She seats herself superbly, but there's a giggle fighting to get out of her.
Zoe looks up from the lasagna-like protein she's sprinkling with cheese-like protein and catches sight of that giggle. An eyebrow cocks. "Somethin' up, sir?"
River's grinning over her tucked-up knees like the whole world is up and three inches closer to God. "Let me not admit impediment," she tells the captain and Inara, spreading her hands wide. "If this be error, and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man--"
"Darlin'," Mal says as though he understands her. "We have discussed the general idea behind secrets, ain't we? And how you don't tell 'em?"
"Secrets? How come she gets to know?" Kaylee pipes up, indignant.
"Sweetie--" Inara starts, apologetic.
"Mind-readin' genius, Kaylee," Mal says.
"Oh."
"Also, Mal lost a subtlety contest with a neon sign," Inara supplies.
Ordinarily there should be a peeved look, or at least a pretend one. But Mal smiles and sits down next to her.
"You two okay?" Zoe says.
"We're fine," Inara says, sleek smile with something genuine in it.
"You drunk?" Kaylee tried.
"They could just be in a good mood," Simon says as though suggesting they could be little angels come down from heaven to announce a new age of peace and prosperity. (Not gorramn likely.)
"No, doctor," Zoe says as she sets down the last of the dishes in the middle of the spread. "I don't think so somehow."
"Listen to Lady Hippolyta," River advises the table at large. "She knows how it can sneak up, grow into something of great constancy."
"Albatross," the captain says, "I know you ain't always dancin' on a weird wavelength, so would you mind--"
But Inara has chosen this moment to adjust the shawl over her shoulders, and Kaylee has caught sight of her left hand. "Oh, my dear God in heaven!" she squeals. She leaps to her feet, sending her chair skidding backwards. "Inara, is that--? Ooh, it can't be! Ren ci de fo zu!"
"Kaylee, what--" Simon starts, and then looks where she's looking.
"What the hell... oh," Zoe says. Three pairs of eyes go from Inara to Mal and back again. "That what we're all thinkin' it is?"
Smiling her most serene, radiant smile, Inara lays her palm flat on the table. She glances over at Mal with those elegant eyebrows arched in amusement. Well, her face says. Aren't you going to say something, fearless leader?
"Sir?" Zoe prompts.
"Yeah, that's a weddin' ring," Mal mumbles through a mouthful of garlic bread.
"You, uh, got the other one, right, Cap'n?" Kaylee asks, uncertain.
He waves his left hand at them. Something glints. The table explodes with Kaylee-squeals and congratulations.
In later years, the crew remembers the lasagna tasted a good bit like lasagna that evening.