By Clarity Scifiroots
Genre:Slash Characters/Pairing: Mal/Simon
Summary: Simon knows one sure way to get Mal in bed. (Written for "provoke" on promptsomeslash)
Warning: Spoilers for Jaynestown, Objects in Space, BDM
Websites: enchantingmuse (dot com) / artoflife LJ community/user enchanting_muse
Disclaimer: This is merely a fan tribute to an amazing fandom. Purely for entertainment purposes with no money being made whatsoever. I'm merely visiting the playground.
Recently edited: April 7, 2009
All things considered, it really didn't take a lot to get Mal in Simon's bed. What were a few scars compared to having Malcolm Reynolds pressed against his body? He was more than willing to sacrifice a few patches of skin for the opportunity, especially since it meant a moist, determined mouth caressing his skin.
The first time it happened he'd been stunned. Serenity had barely made it away from Canton unscathed. Kaylee sat with him for hours, stumbling over apologies and muttered nonsense as her hands waved in the air nervously, searching for something to do. He finally managed to send her off to bed when Mal entered. It had been a silent affair – well, after Mal told Simon to shut up – and wasn't mentioned afterward.
Then Early, and the bullet in his leg. Once he was moved into his room, Mal came and wrapped him in a tight embrace. Simon awoke from a doze as lips caressed his skin: his face, neck, hands, belly, and – embarrassingly enough – his thigh where he'd been wounded.
After that there had been a couple of small events similar to the first, faint murmurs of the emotions Simon had felt when he was bedridden.
And then things took a different turn. Simon had walked off Serenity with his sister, only to return a few hours later to be pinned, physically and metaphorically, by Mal for keeping secrets. So many lives lost because of secrets. The Alliance attempting to cover Miranda and the birth of the Reavers. The Operative's ignorance of the events on Miranda. The secrets locked inside River's brain.
Despite how badly the entire crew suffered, or maybe because of it, Mal came to his bed and lay at his side. Simon's fingers trembled as he touched the captain's bruised face. He ran his thumb over the split lip and stitched cuts that would scar.
So many scars.
It seemed that Mal thought there were too many. Simon smiled at the memory.
"'Gotta stop meeting like this, Doc."
"I don't see how it's my fault, Captain," Simon murmured, gaze fixed on their intertwined fingers resting on his chest. His stomach still ached from the Reaver's nearly fatal shot.
"Wo de ma... Stop gettin' yourself shot at an' laid up."
Simon rolled his eyes in mild annoyance. "Not exactly my choice but..."
"You're an idiot," Mal growled, fingers squeezing painfully tight; Simon ignored it.
"It gets me you," he whispered.
Mal's grip suddenly went lax. Simon lifted his gaze. Mal stared at him with a confused look. Then his expression changed, as if the pieces had suddenly come together.
Leaning in, Mal gently bit Simon's ear and said, "Knock it off an' I'll promise you'll get me more often."
Simon closed his eyes, an overwhelming sense of relief ridding him of tension he hadn't realized was there. "You swear?"
"Cross my heart, Doc."
Still, a little physical hurt now and then could do wonders to get Mal on the run...
"Kao! What'd you do to yourself?" Mal demanded, storming into the infirmary with the tails of his coat flapping out behind him.
Simon shook his head at the predictability of his lover. He turned around and held up his hands. "Look, it's nothing!" he protested, nodding at the scrap on his right forearm. "I was just helping Kaylee and got a little stuck. Some antibiotic, wrap it up for the night, and it'll be good a new."
Mal scowled. "You sure?"
"I'm the doctor here, remember?" Simon snorted and turned back to the counter so he could cover the scrape. He felt Mal approach and soon his lover's arms wrapped around his waist.
"Zoe is an evil woman," he grumbled.
Simon grinned in sudden understanding. "She told you I got hurt?" He laughed as he felt Mal's affirmative nod. "Well, you know... it's my professional opinion that I seem to heal faster with some, um, intimate care from my captain."
Mal rubbed his hand down Simon's arm. "An' we need you in one piece... 'Spose I'm up to it."
Pushing back with his hips, Simon teased, "You certainly are."
"That was low, Doc," Mal said with a smile clear in his tone. "C'mon, move it."