Chapter Text

Be not afraid of growing slowly, be afraid only of standing still.

Inara ran a delicate fingertip along the hànzì symbols etched into her cast iron tea cup. In the heart of Serenity, the galley stood silent and empty as she watched patterns in the rising steam of the kettle. Heat from the stove and the boiling water filled the room, and her eyes drifted closed. She hadn't slept well for some time.

"You drink anymore tea, you're gonna start sweatin' the stuff." She could hear the smile on Mal's voice. "Not that you sweat, of course."

She turned and found Mal close enough to feel his body warmth. He'd cornered her against the stove in his reacquired hobby of pushing the limits of her comfort. "Funny," she said. She kept her breathing shallow, avoiding the familiar scent of him.

The tea kettle began to whistle, and she slipped past him. "I didn't realize you'd stayed on board," she said. Inara grabbed the kettle, protecting her hand with a towel.

"Gotta catch up on my beauty sleep," Mal smirked. "Being shot and all ain't an excuse to neglect the needs of my admirers." He stepped closer to her as she began to pour the boiling water.

She backed off from him, the hot kettle rocking in her grip. "What are you-" Mal reached past her and grabbed her satchel of loose tea off the counter. He dunked it into her tea, swirling it around some. His eyes narrowed on the task.

Looking up, he offered her a smile. "No clients?"

She stiffened a bit at the question. "Not that it's your business," she sighed, "But no. Things are quiet this far out." She gently pushed him aside with her hip, taking the cup and tea satchel's ribbon from him. "I've got it, thank you."

Mal gave her a smile, barely showing teeth, and obediently stepped back to give her room. She could feel him watching her. "You're welcome," he said.

She slid down the counter, still steeping the bag of loose leaves. She heard a rumbling breath from Mal. He came up behind her yet again, peeking over her shoulder at the tea. "Smells good."

"There's enough for two steepings." She pressed the teabag between two spoons and turned to offer it.

He took it, and she began to blow lightly on her own tea. "I was hoping to share," he said.

She glared at him over the edge of her cup. "You can pour your own."

"Not very generous to the very man who took two bullets for you," Mal said. Inara could feel his breath on her, warm, smelling like he'd chewed a mint leave and then downed a bourbon. It wasn't...entirely unpleasant.

"You wound me," he continued. Inara found herself following Mal's hand as it trailed up his own chest, only to realize then that he didn't have a shirt on. He rested a hand on his middle where bandages covered his gunshots. "See?"

It was a too long moment of staring at the curves of his muscles, the white shining skin of old scars, before his words hit an unexpectedly sore spot. In truth, Mal had gotten himself into the trouble that put the two new bullet holes in him, but it had been to protect her.

"That's not funny, Mal."

He flashed a smile. "Not even a li'l bit?"

The corner of Inara's mouth quirked, but she tried her best to keep her face indignant. Malcolm Reynolds could never know how easily he could affect her mood. She set down her tea and eyed the counter, pretending to look for something to add to it.

She had not prepared for him to gently take her hand and flatten it against his chest. "Please accept my apology. From the depths of my heart." He grinned like a goof, but his hand trapped hers. He was running hot to the touch.

Mal watched her for a long moment, waiting for her to react.

She tried to force a smile on her face, but it was growing exceedingly difficult to think with him acting so forward. "Apology accepted," she said with a soft, whisper of a voice.

A bright smile graced his mouth. "Good. I hate havin' Companions mad at me." He released her hand to own control, but kept his ground, inches from her. He was clearly enjoying it here. "Does that by any chance mean your gonna give me a sip?" He tilted his head. "Keeping up with hot fluids are a vital part of the healing process. Doctor's orders."

Inara stared at her hand for some time, still resting against his heart. She conceded with a sigh. She turned to grab her tea cup, and only made it a few centimeters before Mal moved to block her with his body.

"You're in my way," she said.

His eyes brightened up, and he took another inch of a step. Swallowing roughly, he let out a slow sigh and leaned in. "Sure you don't like it that way?" His shoulder barely touched hers where he stood, his lips dangerous closer to her ear.

Inara felt her eyes close instinctively as his warm breath brushed her neck. "I, uh..." She'd lost all grip on reality. This wasn't happening. Malcolm Reynolds was not coming onto her. He didn't come on to anything. And now they were fatally close to having their bodies completely pressing against one another. After a moment of convincing herself that it was only to test her theory that this was all a hallucination, she reached up, gripping his arms.

"Mal, stop." Her tone was not very persuasive.

He chuckled, leaning in. His hot breath fanned out over her neck as warm lips finally made contact with a sensitive spot below her ear. She leaned her head instinctively into him, her mouth trailing open. His voice was a rumble against her skin.

"Only..." He planted a gentle kiss. She squeezed the toned muscles of his forearms, her neatly trimmed nails grazing against his skin.

"...if you really..." Another kiss. She exhaled sharply. Her head rolled to the side to give him room to press closer.

"...want me to." The final words were breathed out, and she shivered.

Finally, he lifted his head from his task and Inara's eyes drifted open. His gaze, heavy and dark, bore into hers. No longer was there innocent fun shining in them, only need. "Do you?" he asked.

Inara took a fraction of a step closer, closing the space between them. A jolt shot through her as their bodies finally touched. His question received no answer as she leaned forward without much in the way of control. She draped her arms up and around his neck. Her lips only lightly brushing against his.

She wanted more.

Mal let his hands travel to her sides and slowly work downwards till they rested on her hips. Rocking against her lightly, he pressed forward, connecting the kiss.

She didn't have an objecting bone in her body as she kissed him back. Lips parted beneath his, every thought crushed beneath the force of his mouth. Inara arched into him, breathing out a sigh. She took in the way his lips tasted. Mint and bourbon again, a touch of sweat. Mal pulled away from the kiss, teasing maybe? She suddenly felt the grip of his hands against her backside, and he lifted her up. She gripped his shoulders, her legs hooking around his waist as she was lifted and set roughly onto the countertop.

"Lao tyen," he said in a hoarse whisper. He trailed kisses across her cheek and back to her mouth, where she met him eagerly, her hands delving into the cool depths of his hair. She ran the back of her ankle against his lower back in slow circles, pressing his body closer.

"Oh God, Mal," she moaned quietly against his lips, silencing them both as she kissed him with hard need. In the distance, just out of reach of her will to care, the soft whistle of the tea kettle grew louder and louder in the background. Hadn't she had already taken it off the burner?

Mal spread her knees apart to stand flush against her and the counter. His lips drifted down to her neck again, tasting it, reveling in it.

Running his teeth along her burning skin, Mal finally lifted his head up to crash his lips again. His tongue meeting hers. Inara sighed into it.

" 'Nara," he moaned, gripping her waist tighter as they movement became frenzied. As clothes were tugged at. No. He hadn't moaned. He'd sounded calm. Caught up in every sensation of her new lover's body, Inara ignored the thought.

" 'Nara," Mal said again.

She'd faded off into a standing nap, dreaming on all manner of things not related to actually making tea. The kettle was screeching at her to get let off the burner.

He smiled as Inara's hand slacked and her chin slipped, jolting her awake. He held back on a laugh when she caught herself with a start. A cloud of steam enveloped her, and she swatted it away. It was less than graceful, but he enjoyed catching glimpses behind that curtain of propriety she liked to keep pulled shut.

Inara tried to get her bearings, her cheeks flushed from the steam and only the steam, she reminded herself. She gripped the counter as her legs struggled to regain sensation. Mal had just been propping her up against the kitchen counter, after all.

She attended to the kettle and focused on her breathing. Fantasies were nothing to be ashamed of. They were natural. But Mal was hovering now. She couldn't look at him. Not after what he'd just been doing to her in her imagination. Maybe if she kept herself busy, and her back turned to him, he wouldn't notice the flush on her face. "I must be more tired than I thought." She breathed slow, focusing on bringing her heart rate down. She took a sip of herbal tea, inhaling the smell, and tried to ignore how good bourbon and mint went together.

"Why you all red?"

Inara choked. She fought back a gag. "Just the steam," she covered, turning around the stare at the tea kettle.

Mal returned to a stack of paperwork he'd left on the table, but kept his eye on Inara. She was acting like he'd had caught her naked or something. He did a double take. And...nope she wasn't naked. The Captain, always making sure he didn't miss a beat.

"You mind passing me a cup of that?" he asked.

Inara swallowed with an uneasy nod. He will never know, she swore silently. She took a long sip of her tea, staring awkwardly over the rim at Mal. He sat across the room, looking infuriatingly innocent in all this. That damnedable man would never let her live it down if he had a clue. She set about steeping another cup of water with the loose leaves. She slid it gently in front of Mal.

His hand trailed down to adjust the wrappings taped around his stomach. It became a habit these past couple weeks. Just something he didn't know he was doing at times. Those gunshots would make some remarkable scars. He leaned back in his chair and continued to trace the bandages as he read.

Inara stood over him, watching him read. She finished off her tea in one large gulp, and passed the cup between her hands.

Mal looked up. "You okay?"

She nodded quickly. "Yes. I'm fine. Well, I have a number of things to get done today, so I'm going to...go...now."

Mal heard her put her tea cup down too hard, and threw his feet up onto the table. He leaned back on two chair legs, watching her walk away. More like 'flee', actually.

"Might wanna see to that color before the kids get back," he said. "They might get the wrong impression of how we spent our downtime." He glanced up a lighthearted smirk.

"Bih zway," she muttered back at him. She shut her eyes, turning the corner down the hall towards the hold. At this moment, Inara wanted to crawl into a big hole in the ground and die, but since the hole wasn't a feasible option, she'd have to settle for her room. Damn you, damn you, damn you…

Mal had struck a nerve, seemed like. Back in the galley, he grabbed his tea and blew the steam off, satisfied with himself. Taking a long sip, he took in the scent of warm herbs. Under that, though, he caught a gentle hint of lychee and spice. He focused on that with a smile. He'd always liked that fragrance on her.

Chinese Translations:

Lao tyen = Oh, God

Bih zway = Shut up