Summary: Simon has something important to say. Mal is good at diversion. SLASH. MalSimon

Pairing: Mal/Simon

Rating: PG maybe, for suggestion.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Captain Tightpants, Firefly and all that entails belong to mutant enemy and Joss Whedon and other fanciable people that ain't me. Obviously.

All this sneaking around, covert glances, standing almost-too-close-but-not-quite, evolving into sly touches and the subtlest of kisses, lips barely brushing skin. It wasn't necessary, Simon mused, but it was part of the fun. Gorram Captains, gorram too-tight pants. Simon was certain that they had been caught in the act so to speak after a routine salvage job that went wrong (as they so often did). Mal had been sprawled on the bed in the infirmary bitching about his newly acquired bullet-hole, and Simon had been bitching right back, cursing about Mal's lack of self-preservation. Instead of telling Simon just how much harder it was to dodge bullets for those sans insane freaky River-powers he had lifted his head from the starched sheets and pressed his mouth to the curve of Simon's jaw, tongue flicking out briefly. In full view of the rest of the crew. Simon had faltered in his muttering and turned his back, pretending to search through the drawers behind him, pink grazing his cheeks. He had grinded his teeth at his inability to be as blatant as Mal, he knew his embarrassment only spurred Mal on yet he couldn't help it. He had felt Zoë's eyes boring into him and when he risked a glance at her sure enough she had been watching them both unrelentingly, one eyebrow quirked. If anyone else had witnessed it they didn't let on.

'What the Hell were you- Mal I thought you didn't want to announce this- what we- us – to-'

Simon had demanded, flustered, the second he was left alone with Mal, which was right about when he'd gathered himself enough to meet Zoë's gaze as he had ordered the crew out of the infirmary. He didn't miss the glimmer of mirth in her eye as she sidled out with the others.

'You were practically announcin' it your own self with all your fussin' over me, like you were my gorram wife.' Mal had responded, both indignant and amused. Simon had blushed again, his mouth a firm line of disapproval.

'Zoë saw. She knows Mal-' Simon had been cut off by the sound Mal made in the back of his throat, 'Ain't nothin'. Simon had tried to open the topic again, but that was all Mal would say. Ain't nothin'.

Now Simon smiled at the memory as he padded barefoot in the direction of Mal's quarters. It had been close, but not the closest they'd come to being found out. To say it was Mal's idea that they were so secretive he certainly did flaunt their relationship at times. Simon remembered earlier being sat at the dinner table, stopping mid-sentence and forgetting entirely what he had been talking about as Mal's hand had drifted higher and higher up his thigh.

'He swallow the wrong way?' Jayne had asked nobody in particular as he nabbed a roll out of the basket making its way around the table.

'He swallow the wrong way?' River had repeated, a serene smile on her face directed distinctly towards Mal. It had been Mal's turn to choke as he'd spluttered and coughed, the situation descending into enough chaos as Wash had rushed to pass him a drink and knocked the whole jug over Simon. Then most of them couldn't remember what had happened beforehand anyway. Wash, however, upon retrieving the jug had glimpsed Mal's hand before he'd snatched it back in time. Simon hadn't missed the look that had passed between Zoë and her husband following the little escapade.

Simon climbed down the ladders to Mal's room quickly, the steel cold on his bare feet. Whatever he'd been about to say died and faded on his lips at the sight of the Captain as he sat quickly, blinking sleep away and looking over-alert to compensate for his previous not-being-awake. Simon thought he looked adorable, well, as adorable as gormless and dopey would allow.

'What? I got drool?' Mal asked self-consciously, wiping at the side of his mouth with the back of his hand. Simon rolled his eyes and laughed before he remembered to look stern.

'Uh-oh.' Mal said with feigned trepidation, crossing his arms over his chest, 'What'd I do? Look, if this is about the oily handprints all over your pretty shirt that ain't nothin' of my concern, it was Jayne sayin' you smelled good-'

Simon cut him off, firmly unwilling to be distracted from what he was saying but tianna, if Mal wasn't good at distracting!

'What! You made my shirt dirty-?'

'Now I told you, it was Jayne.' Mal reasoned, his eyes alight with amusement.

'Jayne did no such thing, he wouldn't say anything leaning towards nice about me. You're a liar, Malcolm Reynolds. And stop trying to-'

'Well he didn't say it nice like. Actually, he just said you smell all flowery and girl-'

Simon narrowed his eyes a little more and Mal, though not exceptional at interpreting Simon's slight shifts in expression, had learned by now that it was his 'shut up or wake up strapped to a table' glare.

'Listening.' Mal nodded. Simon let a couple of seconds drag by in silence before he was convinced that he did indeed have the Captain's attention.

'I know you don't approve of ship-board romance-'

Simon was cut off by Mal's sudden fidgeting and at the pause Mal spoke up;

'Simon, I don't think it's such a great-'

The doctor pressed a finger over Mal's lips and glared,

'I don't care what you think, I think that seeing as it's my sister who's the psychic and also the one blackmailing me about the whole thing that you ought to listen.'

Mal blinked, and for almost three whole seconds his face was expressionless before he was laughing heartily. Simon scowled.

'She's… Are you…!' Mal chuckled.

'Mal don't laugh! Do you know how much longer it takes to get her to go to sleep when she's insistent we play pretend? Or when I'm dragged to play chess sporadically-! That isn't all, she teases-!'

'You kids. That girl's always had you wrapped around her finger, Simon.' Mal smiled, lacing his fingers with Simon's and pulling him down to sit on the bed with him.

'No, Mal, you really don't comprehend what I'm saying entails- I don't think you're taking me seriously-' Simon broke off into a pleasantly surprised moan when Mal fixed his mouth firmly over Simon's in a silencing kiss.

'Ain't nothin'.' Mal murmured between them as they broke apart for breath. Simon would have persisted, really, it was important, but tianna, if Mal wasn't good at being distracting!

'It is, Mal, it's-' Simon struggled, finding himself pressed down on the mattress with Mal butterflying wet kisses across his collar-bone. He wound his fingers through Mal's hair and tugged until their gaze met again, but for the life of him he couldn't remember what had been so damn important anymore, not with Mal looking at him like that.

'It's..?' Mal trailed off, and Simon thought he looked altogether too smug considering he was meant to be the one agreeing to Simon's every command if he ever wanted to have sex with him again.

'Nothing.' Simon sighed, feeling extremely defeated but none too unhappy as Mal grazed his neck with his teeth. Simon made a mental note that the next time he wanted to use seduction to beguile Malcolm Reynolds of his stubborn reason he would have to just not look at him while he did it.

FIN