Contrast

Rated: PG

Category: Double Drabble, Mal/Inara, Angst.

Spoilers: None.

Summary: A study in contrast.

Note: Written for the "End of the Year Crazy Fest" on Whedonland.

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He laid awake and stared at it long after he should have been either asleep or gone.

He couldn't help it.

It was so beautiful.

Its hard edges cushioned by soft silk was something he'd never thought he'd appreciate.

He'd always thought it belonged with leather.

But now, he couldn't help but appreciate the beauty of contrast.

The flowing red underneath its brassy polish very nearly undid him.

It looked comfortable, almost like it was meant to be there.

Like him.

He was beyond comfortable, but like his weapon, he was also out of place. Contrasting.

Almost fitting in, but not quite.

And so, after another long while, he rose.

He collected his leather, discarded separately after its contents had been set carefully on silk, and his clothes. He put both on, then finally disrupted the masterpiece he'd so admired.

The almost was just too much to bear. The nearly was not near enough.

He holstered his gun and slipped from the room.

Later that night, he would contemplate the conflicted beauty of contrast again, and he'd wonder if he'd done the right thing.

And on the other side of Serenity, Inara would wake alone, and wonder the same thing.