She'd had enough. All this pussy-footing around, this shilly-shallying, this dancing about … enough was enough. Mal's hatch was open, and manoeuvring her cast much more easily now, she hobbled down the ladder.

"Do you love me?" she asked as she descended, more ungracefully than she would have cared. If she'd been thinking about things like that.

"What?" Mal looked up, surprise written across his face, cut-throat razor in one hand, cheek in the other. Then the surprise was replaced by pain. "Ow!" He clamped his fingers to the cut, feeling it sting with the lather.

"I'm sorry!" Inara said, clumping across the floor to him. "Do you need Simon? Let me look."

"It's fine, woman," he said, aware he'd made more of a fuss than a man should, particularly a man standing in his own bunk, with no shirt on. His suspenders dangled around his hips, and he hadn't gotten as far as putting his boots on either.

"Let me see." She gently pulled his hand away, examining the wound. "I think you'll live," she declared softly, relaxing a little.

"You think?" He dabbed at it, looking at the blood on his fingertips. "And what makes you come barging down into my bunk, yelling things, when a man has a blade in his hand? I coulda lost something really important!"

"Mal, you're shaving your face."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "I meant my nose. Or … or an ear, maybe. Lost one of them before, didn't much like it."

Her eyes travelled to the faint scar line. "Neither did I."

"So what were you so all-fire determined to come down … and …" He stopped. What she'd said finally penetrated. "Oh."

"It's been weeks, Mal. We've changed the steps, but we're still dancing about each other, and I … well, I don't know that I can carry on like this." She sat down heavily on the bed, still unmade. His personal scent filled her nostrils.

He carefully put the razor back on the shelf, and took a moment to wipe his face clean of soap. "That's kinda scary," he admitted.

"Scary?" She glared at him. "I come down here to ask you a perfectly simple and reasonable question, and you say it's scary?"

"Not the question." He smiled a little. Funny how he could say that now. "But the fact that you don't think we can carry on the way we're going."

"And you think we can?"

"Nope. Don't think it's be advisable. Prob'ly not doing your blood pressure much good." He crossed his arms. "So … you wanna ask me again?"

"You heard the first time."

"Just want to make sure I got it right."

The glare she gave him should have wilted him on the spot, but he just gazed solidly back. "Fine." Folding her hands in her lap, she raised her eyebrows slightly, looking calm and collected. "Do you love me?"

He didn't answer for a moment, just stood looking at her. Then he shook his head. "Big thing you're asking here, Inara."

"Not that big. It's just a question."

"Kinda think it's more than that. Kinda think it's forever."

"Isn't that what you wanted? Not just a quick thrust but something more?" She immediately regretted using that word, but it was out here now.

"Yeah, they're all fine and dandy, and I can't say I haven't had the occasional few myself, although maybe not so many as some." He looked at her rather pointedly.

"Yes, Mal, I've had a parade of men through my bed." She was getting annoyed, and beginning to wish she'd never started this. She stood up awkwardly, banging her cast on the metal of the bed. "Forget I said anything."

She started for the ladder, not looking at him, denying herself the opportunity to see the smirk that she just knew was on his face. Her hands on the cold metal, she began to pull herself up.

"'Nara." He was behind her, breathing in her ear. "Not gonna forget." His hands were on her waist, turning her around. He let go but leaned forward, and she was supremely aware of the heat of his body, the muscles that lay beneath his skin, the masculinity that was so very close.

"Then why won't you say?" She sounded almost like a child, wailing for a lost toy.

"Why won't you?" he countered, his breath moving the hair piled haphazardly on her head.

"Because … because …" The words caught in her throat.

"Scared?" he asked, moving closer, until she was sure he must be inside her clothes.

"Mal …" She closed her eyes, trying to pull together some of that Companion training for times like this. Only there were never supposed to be times like this.

"No. You look at me," he ordered, and without thinking she complied. "Told you about playing the coquette."

"I'm not playing, Mal," she admitted, her voice small. "I am scared."

His lips curved sweetly. "Hell, darlin', so am I. 'Fraid if I say what you want me to say, I'll fall and never get back up."

"Would that be so bad?"

"Still wondering."

"Oh." She pushed at his chest, trying to move him away. "Then perhaps I should leave."

"Don't think you should. 'Cause I'm willing to give it a try."

Her eyes widened. "You … you are?"

"I love you, Inara." There. He'd said it. He'd finally said it and hadn't burst into flames.

"You do?" She felt like all the air had been sucked from her body, and her knees threatened to give way.

"I do." He put his hands on her waist, holding her up. "Known for a while, just … hadn't got the courage to say it."

"The hero of Serenity Valley?"

"Ain't a hero, 'Nara. No such thing. Just men doing what they have to." He stood still for a moment. "You gonna make me be on the losing side this time too?"

Her hands, still on his skin, felt his heart pounding as if he'd run a mile. "Mal …"

"'Nara, say it. For God's sake, say it." He was pleading, begging for his life here.

"I thought you didn't believe anymore."

"'Nara …"

"I love you, Mal."

Neither of them moved, just stood, their breaths mingling, until Mal leaned just that inch further and pressed his lips onto hers. They'd kissed before, quite a bit recently, but this was different. This was like a kiss from the other side, knowing how they each felt about each other, and it was world shattering.

After a long while they came up for air, and Mal smiled. "Good," he said, lifting a hand to run his fingers across her cheek. "Sounds shiny, hearing you say that."

"I mean it, Mal." She moulded against him, pressing into his chest, inhaling the scent of soap and leather, with just a hint of gunpowder. And more than a dash of something else. Something far more arousing.

"Glad of that." His free hand moved up to her breast, running his finger across her nipple and watching her eyes widen. "That cast … does it get in the way?"

She pinched him. "Is that why you said that? Just so you can have your wicked way with me?"

"Of course." He felt her stiffen. "'Nara, just 'cause I love you, doesn't mean I ain't gonna play no more."

"So we're still going to snipe at each other?" Her right hand was moving achingly slowly down his chest, towards something that was rapidly hardening between them, even as her heart lifted as he said those words again.

"Conjure we might."

"So I can call you a petty thief?"

"Rather you didn't."

"I'll let you call me whore occasionally."

"Oh?" His eyebrows raised, even as his mouth was exploring the dip above her collar bone.

"When we're naked."

He smiled, and she felt it against her skin. "We planning on getting naked?"

"Well, we've got to see if this cast hinders matters." She pressed against him, eliciting a groan even as he licked her flesh.

"'Cause I don't think I can wait 'til Simon takes the damn thing off."

"And you think I can?" Her fingers had reached their target, and another groan was joined by an intake of breath.

"You keep doing that, and I think we're gonna find out."

She kept doing it. And they found out.