gonna_live | (no subject)

(no subject)

When Kaylee is welding deckplates, it behooves one to stay out of the way.

She's in the cargo bay with a blowtorch. You do the math.

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"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.

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