title: Who Says...
fandom: Firefly
pairing: Mal/Simon
rating: PG13-ish (language)
series: none
email: the_tenth_muse1@yahoo.com
website: http://www.geocities.com/the_tenth_muse1/
feedback: very welcome
archive: sure! just let me know
summary: who says romance is dead? *grin*
warnings: none really. total shmoop. utterly sappy. mild language but it's from Simon so, you know. ;o)
disclaimers: not mine, never will be, not making any money from this whatsoever.
Who Says...
by Nancy
"Who says romance is dead?" Simon muttered to himself. "I do, that's who. Can't even remember an anniversary. Too busy. Sure. He's always too gorram busy. Hwun dahn."
He could so swear.
Morose and irritated at having been abandoned, again, by his lover and on such an important date, Simon sighed and locked up the drugs he'd been inventorying and headed for his room. His room, not Mal's. There was no way he would warm the Captain's bed when the other man couldn't even bother to remember that they'd been together for a year. This would show Mal exactly what he thought of the callous behavior.
Not that it would stop Mal from doing so again in the future, but it might make him think twice. He was just too accessible, that was the problem. Well, one of the problems. He was also extremely weak-willed when it came to denying Mal anything. One look from those deep blue eyes and Simon was a goner. Even though he'd been abandoned for nearly two weeks, Simon had hoped against hope that Mal would remember.
Bastard.
Swai hwun dahn.
Sighing again, he reached his old room and stopped short, blinking in surprise. Lying in his bed, naked as the day he was born, was Mal. "Uh..."
Grinning, arm tucked under his head as a pillow, Mal said, "Real intelligent there, Simon."
"What're you...why are you here and not, you know, doing that conference thing with Zoe and the client?" Simon asked, finally dragging his eyes away from the hard cock and raising them to the amused blue eyes of his lover.
Mal got off the bed, utterly unselfconscious, and strode to him, taking Simon's hand and yanking him inside. "You have entirely too many clothes on for this to work."
Swallowing heavily, Simon asked weakly, "For what to work?"
"Your anniversary present. You did remember that it was our anniversary, right?"
"Of course!" Simon exclaimed. "You're the one who forgot!"
"I did not. I'm here, ain't I?"
"Someone reminded you."
"They did not!"
"Mal, it's okay. I know that you're not good with dates and..."
"Does this look like I forgot, God damn it!?"
Simon stared in shock at the tattoo on Mal's back. It was still red and puffy, but mostly healed. "Mal...it's...it's exquisite!"
Mal craned his head around and asked, "Yeah? Haven't really seen it yet. Had to get Jayne to take off the bandage tonight and he wouldn't stop laughing at me. I swear I'm going to dock his pay next job we get. No respect from him any more. Well, no fear anyhow, which is just as bad."
Simon moved to his old dresser and dug into the top drawer, pulling out a hand mirror. He brought Mal over to the wall mirror and turned him around, handing him the mirror and they both gazed at the tattoo together. It was formed of elegant black lines in ancient, traditional characters that read: Eternal Beloved. One character on each shoulder blade, which had to have hurt something terrible, and delicate, graceful lines connecting the two, then trailing down the spine like a vine.
Simon's fingers moved over the skin, barely brushing the tender flesh and raising goose flesh as he did so. "God, Mal, it's beautiful. I-I can't believe...this is why you wouldn't come near me the last couple of weeks?"
Mal grinned and confirmed, "Yup. Wanted to make sure it was a surprise."
"Well you definitely succeeded," Simon replied, still stunned. "Of course, I've been cursing your name for the last few days."
"I figured."
They stared at each other through the mirror for a long moment, then Mal faced him, again taking his hand. "I wanted to show you, this ain't something light for me."
Simon cupped his face with his free hand and murmured, "Me, either."
"So. When're you getting your tattoo?"
"Tattoo?"
"Fair's fair, right?"
"Well..."
"Simon?"
"Um..."
end