gonna_live | (no subject)

Mal is grumpy.

First off, Kaylee won't let him near the blowtorch while he is working on the six-pack of beer they picked up on their way down to the garage.

Secondly --

"She just up and did it."

-- his focus lies elsewhere.

Kaylee straightens, turns off the torch, flips up her mask, and glares.

"Last time I checked, she was a grown woman and could do whatever the hell she pleased."

Mal makes a face right back.

"Because you love it when I go runnin' off for some mo shu Milliways caper too."

"No, I love it when you prove you know what the hell you're doin' and you're not just standin' around being all decorative in a manner ain't exactly made of aesthetic."

She roots around in the toolbox, comes up with a chisel, and holds it out. "Get that gunk off those other plates so I can put 'em back proper. And get drunker."

"At least one o' those I can handle." A forceful if not-quite-sloppy-yet hand reaches out for the chisel and crosses to the opposite side of the cargo bay.

No worries though.

Mal is entirely loud enough to be heard complaining from here, even if he drops his volume some.

"Would you sign up for something like that?"

Kaylee sighs, and pulls the mask off entirely. "No, 'cause I wouldn't want it, and 'cause Simon would pitch a fit."

By which she means be nonverbally unhappy for a very long time and give her the sad, bewildered eyes. (She doesn't like those.)

"But you know, she wants it, and she ain't got somebody to have and to hold, so... I don't see why you're so ruttin' fussed about it."

"One of the main reasons she's willing to do it is to help out Mike, dong ma? Which is very her, and kind and everythin'. I don't got any kind of problem with that.

"It's to let him leave. You walk out the door, there's no guarantee in the 'verse that has you coming back, and then she's Barman all by her own self, which just..." Mal shudders. "Nnngh. How can that be a good thing to even have potential for?"

Kaylee understands that Mal is very upset and well on his way to drunk, which is why she manfully restrains laughter.

And why it's gently that she says, "Yeah, but captain, you're forgettin' one thing."

Beat.

"If they can make her Barman, then she can make somebody else Barman, too. If that happens, and Mike does a runner. Which he wouldn't. But if he did. It'd be fine."

Not really succeeding in being menacing anymore, Mal points his finger at Kaylee again, chisel still in hand and beer long drained and does his ma being Barman get him a liquor discount because he'd feel a lot different about this scenario if it did --

" -- Go weld something."

Edited 2009-09-16 01:36 (UTC)

Kaylee looks at him for a moment.

Turns on the torch.

Holds it in his direction, eyebrows raised.

"You go chisel somethin'."

"I wanted the gorram blowtorch."

It's five solid minutes of quiet. Mal has to concentrate far too intently on the deckplate on which he is working to be effective, but there is progress being made.

"Ma knows about the ship."

Not the one they live on. One would hope she already knows about that one.

Kaylee turns off the blowtorch again.

It is possibly for this reason that she sounds a little cranky when she says, "What did you say?"

"Not much of anythin'. I'd just got done yelling at my mother. So I did the manful thing and left."

Jayne would disapprove.

"...okay, back up. I couldn't hear what you said first." She points the (dimmed) torch at him. "And yellin's bad."

If she had a newspaper, she'd hit him on the nose with it.

"I didn't tell her much of anything."

It's louder, clearer, and starting to appear appropriately chagrined.

"She won't go around broadcasting it to folk, but our days of this staying entirely secret are numbered."

"Wait."

Kaylee puts down the torch. "You're sayin' she knows about this?" And gestures around the cargo bay.

"Bar told Mike, and Bar and Mike's head told Ma. I'm not sure it was even actively so much as 'Oh, 'case you're wonderin', your son and his friend're working on a busted up Firefly in the gara--"

A faint glint of hope.

"I got zero proof that they know what it was originally from. When."

Kaylee folds her arms loosely, expression very neutral, very shut in.

After a moment, quiet: "Would it be so bad if they did know when it was from? I mean -- it did happen. No takin' it back."

"No. Not now that it's...better-lookin' at least."

Mal fidgets, eventually standing. The chisel clanks down to the unfinished deckplate.

"I'm amazed Inara hasn't followed me around yet."

"...she might know more than you think she knows." Kaylee's gaze is steady. "I'm just sayin'. I didn't tell her nothin', but she's not dumb."

"I could've told her while you were away, but I wanted it t -- "

Tzao gao.

"Put away the blowtorch proper."

Something in Kaylee's expression hardens.

"If I do," she says, very quiet, "you gonna finish that sentence?"

"Don't ask you conditional things I don't follow up on on the whole, do I?"

Without another word Kaylee turns to put away the blowtorch.

"While you were away, I wanted to keep it secret so it would stay ours. I knew if others saw it as it was, folks'd want to've worked on it. I couldn't have that. So."

Kaylee's smile is very faint.

"You're real terrible at not bein' a sentimental kĕwù de lăo bàojūn, you know that?"

"Been told. Also been told I yell at my ma too much."

"Well, you do," she says, briskly. "I think you ought to bring her flowers and say you're sorry."

That idea gets scoffed at.

"Ain't wrong for worryin'," Mal gripes before bending down to retrieve the chisel. "I don't even apologize to my wife."

Mal, that's...not the best line of argument.

Kaylee resists the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose.

"And Lord knows why she puts up with you, if you don't. But here's a little news: your wife ain't your mother. That ain't a partnership, it's she brought you into this world and she can take you out. It ain't about you, it's about her. And respect."

"You are a pain in my ruttin' pigu."

And. Y'know.

Right.

And stuff.

"I'm swearin' off women. Have Wash drop me at the nearest commune."

"We won't miss you, long as you keep actin' like that." Kaylee folds her arms. "Now's the part where you tell me I'm right and either agree to pack it in or start gettin' useful."

Mal wants to yell at Kaylee, just a little bit. He feels like it would make him feel better. He's not -- He's not wrong. Not for being worried. And Kaylee wants him to say that she's right and he's wrong and goddamn that is not how his brain functions.

But she didn't say anything about him being wrong about the intent. Just the execution of it.

"You're right. Do I get to use the blowtorch now?"

"Not until you sober up." She raises her eyebrows. "Because if you hurt yourself, word about the ship's gonna get out faster. And I don't think we want that quite yet. Do we?"

Far too shrilly, "You're the one who bought me the beer!"

Kaylee rolls her eyes. "Because you were too busy throwin' a temper tantrum to use it safe anyhow."

The chisel however has been deemed safe.

It's not as good as melting things and the clanging sound isn't nearly as fun as the low hiss of the torch flame, but it'll do for now.