d i f f e r e n t . d r e a m s . i n . t h e . s a m e . b e d

Different Dreams in the Same Bed
[by victoria p.]

Rating: PG-13

Summary: He wants to believe her, kisses her to stop her words so he don't have to wonder if they're lies.

Notes: vague movie spoilers. Thanks to Bethy for looking it over.

Date: October 31, 2005

Inara is stronger than she looks, and he can feel the flex and slide of muscle beneath her perfect skin when he touches her, his hands large and dark on her arms, coarse where she's used to the softness of silk. Her mouth is hot on his, tasting of plum wine and deception, little lies she never told but that linger on her tongue, which steals the lies from his, the way her kisses steal the breath from his body.

He lets her lead him to the bed, and tries not to think of all the men who've been in it before when she moves over him. When she guides him inside her body, he can almost believe again in God.

They don't talk afterward. He looks at her and all the words tangle up in his throat, choking him. She strokes his cheek as if he's the fragile one, and he kisses her hand, her wrist, the soft, scented skin of her elbow, sheened with sweat.

He's not sure what he expects, after, aside from Jayne's envious badgering and Kaylee's, "'Bout damn time." He ruffles her hair and wishes he had her innocent confidence that things will work out.

He can't rightly say he's happy, but he feels a damn sight better than he has in a long while. He don't think he's made for happiness anyway. It's enough that there's work out on the Rim, and they're all learning to live with the new holes in their lives, even Zoe, whose eyes still go far away too often for comfort.

It's more than enough that he's learning the taste and feel of Inara's body beneath him, above him, around him, the perfect curve of her hip and arch of her spine, the weight of her breasts in his hands.

He ain't sure what changed, why she kissed him that day, and takes him to her bed each night now, and he's not going to ask, 'cause he don't know if he'd like the answer.

He's alone on the bridge, staring at the stars while everyone else is asleep -- closest thing he gets to prayer these days -- and Inara joins him, the soft whoosh of silk alerting him before he even sees her reflection in the windows.

"Beautiful, ain't it?" he says, wondering for a moment if he's going to come over all poetical, and how she would respond if he did. Likely keel over in shock. Might be worth it just to see that, but he can't think of anything clever to say, so he leaves it there, and hopes she'll understand.

"It is," she says with a nod, and sits down in the co-pilot's seat. He's the only one ever sits in Wash's chair now. "So we're headed back to the central planets?" she asks. "I heard River say we were going to Ariel for a job."

"Yeah." He looks over at her but she's staring out into the black, her face like marble in the low light.

"When are we arriving? How long will we stay? I need to know in order to make some arrangements--"

He holds himself very still, feeling as if he's just discovered a landmine in a field he thought was clear. He doesn't look at her when he asks, "Arrangements? Shénme?"

"Business arrangements, Mal. I've had a long vacation from work, but since we're heading back into circulation, I want to--"

"Daxiang baozhashi de la duzi. Vacation? Is that what we been doing?"

She rises and comes toward him, hooking her fingers in his suspenders. "With you it's never work." She lifts her face to kiss him, and he lets her, though a small voice in his head whispers, wiles, and he feels like he can't breathe.

He wants to believe her, kisses her to stop her words so he don't have to wonder if they're lies.

"We'll be there in three days," he says against her ear, and it's the voice he used to use to when he had to tell bad news to the families of dead soldiers, "and we're staying for two."

"Thank you," she whispers.

He lets her lead him into her shuttle, lets her strip off his clothes, and he tries to lose himself in the slick, wet heat of her, the way she moves with him, the soft cries she makes when she comes, arching into him as she shakes apart.

When they reach Ariel, he watches her leave from the bridge, and when she returns after two days, he doesn't go down to the cargo hold to greet her.

He knows she'll look exactly the same, and for two days he's been imagining her with another man, wondering if everything they've done is anything but the same lie at a higher price.

He finds other things to do, places to be, and avoids her as long as he can, but Serenity ain't that big, and Inara ain't no coward.

She finds him on the bridge, once they're out of the world, and he's glad no one else is about. His crew knows when to make themselves scarce.

He stands, because he ain't ready for her to touch him, rub his shoulders while he's piloting the way Zoe used to do for Wash. She's beautiful in her red silk and red lipstick, and she smells of jasmine, every sinful thing a man could wish for.

"Everything went well?" she asks.

He nods. "Cargo dropped. Even got us a new job, on Bellerophon." He smiles, a thin stretch of lips he knows looks as false as it feels. "Should bring in a nice amount of coin."

She smiles back and he can't tell if she's nervous or actually happy. He hates that he can't read her, that he don't trust her, because she can shut him out so easily, her face a beautiful mask. "Wonderful."

He doesn't want to ask but the words are out before he can stop them. "And your business?"

She looks away, and he takes perverse pleasure in knowing he got under her skin. "Mal, please."

"No, really, we were having us a nice conversation about business. Seems only polite to ask." She reaches out a hand, but he steps away. He knows if she touches him, he'll give in before he says what needs saying.

"Fine. It was fine."

"Good. I'm glad. You enjoy it?"

He can see the anger flare in her eyes, is glad of the honest response. "That's none of your business."

"Maybe I'm thinking it is," he says, crossing his arms. "Considering our business together."

"That's not--"

He cuts her off ruthlessly. "How's a man supposed to know what's real with you?" He hates that he can't hide the pain in his voice.

She shakes her head and tries again. "Mal, I--"

He swallows hard, unclenches his jaw just enough to speak. "I mean, how do I know you ain't acting with me the way you do with all your customers?"

"You have to believe--"

He bangs his fist against the console, and Wash's dinosaurs rattle; one topples to the ground, collateral damage, a lonely casualty of their fight.

"So do they."

"They pay," she whispers.

"You think I ain't paying every day?" he asks, forcing the question past the tightness in his chest. He leaves before she can answer.

He lies on his bed and stares up at the ceiling. He doesn't sleep.

end

***

Shénme = what?
Daxiang baozhashi de la duzi = The explosive diarrhea of an elephant.

***

If you liked this story, feel free to leave a comment.

~*~

Back to Firefly Stories Index

Back to Main Stories Index

~*~

Disclaimer: All Firefly characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, etc. This piece of fan-written fiction intends no infringement on any copyrights.