Title: Sheer Dumb Luck

Summary:Written for <lj user=moviequoteminis> 

Prompt:"You know what luck is? Luck is believing you're lucky, that's all... To hold a front position in this rat-race, you've got to believe you are lucky." - Stanley Kowalski in A Streetcar Named Desire.

 

 

Mal sat in the pilots’ chair on the bridge.  The only sound was the hum of the ship as everyone else was sleeping.  Sleep had been easier said than done for him lately.  Yes, they’d survived… mostly.  The secret of Miranda was out.  If they were lucky, the Alliance wanted nothing more to do with them.

 

Luck…

 

He’d never thought too much about luck before.  His own luck had always been on this side of bad.  They’d only made it through this on sheer dumb luck.  All of them should be dead, not just Wash and Book.  He should be dead.

 

He turned the chair at a sound behind him to find her there, leaning against the doorframe.  “You know most folk are sleepin’ right now.”

 

Inara lifted one shoulder in a polished shrug.  “I couldn’t.”  She stepped farther into the bridge and looked out at the stars.  “It’s nice to be in the sky again.”

 

“Ain’t complainin’.”  Mal’s gaze followed her movements across the shuttle.  Everything about her was graceful from head to toe.  Even her robes were graceful the way they trailed behind her as if they were their own entity. 

 

“Why’re you still here, ‘Nara?”  The whispered question was presented before Mal could stop it.  He leaned forward in the chair and cleared his throat; quickly adding more to cover up any need that had made it’s way into his voice.  “I know I can’t keep watchin’ you go off to one man or another.  Drives a man like me closer to insanity than he’s likin’.  And if you’re not companionin’ you ain’t gonna make enough coin here to get you more pretty clothes.”

 

Inara turned to look at Mal, her head tilted slightly.  On the outside she was the picture of calm, but the inside was a different story.  She was scared, insecure, and too analytical for her own good.  “I’m not sure how you can think that pretty clothes are all that matter to me after everything I’ve seen and been through with you.”

 

Mal’s gaze flitted sideways for a moment and then back to Inara.  “That ain’t what I meant.”

 

“Then what did you mean?”  Inara asked coolly, still watching Mal curiously.  When he simply looked back out into the black and it became evident that he wasn’t going to continue this conversation, Inara attempted another question.  “Why does it drive you insane?”

 

“Huh?”  Mal’s gaze snapped back to Inara.

 

“You said that my work drives you insane.”  Inara reiterated.

 

Mal raked his fingers back through his hair.  “Well I just meant… was just sayin’ that cause…” He stammered over words before finally shaking his head, unable to come up with a complete sentence. 

 

There was the rustling of silk and she was in front of him.  He looked up to her, eyes wide with uncertainty.  “’Nara your space and mine’s kinda… interminglin’ in a way that’s… close.”

 

“I know.  Can we stop dancing around each other, Mal?”  Inara flitted her fingers through Mal’s hair noting the way his eyes drooped halfway closed and the way he leaned into the touch.

 

“Ain’t dancin’.”  Mal drew a deep breath that seemed to be filled with incense, flowers, and her.  Of their own accord, his arms went around Inara and his head rested against her stomach.  “’Nara… too close.”

 

“I can step back.”

 

“No.”  Mal said quickly, his arms tightening around her to pull her into his lap in the pilots seat.  He’d never had her this close and if he’d thought her addictive before, now she was necessity. “You gonna quit companionin’?”  He whispered the question into long, dark curls.

 

Inara’s lips danced around the word yes and then the word no before she finally answered.  “I don’t know.”  She quickly took his lips in hers to keep any argument at bay.  She needed this.  Him.

 

Mal returned the kiss hesitantly at first around her ‘I don’t know’ resounding in his mind.  He knew he was going to get his heart hurt over and over again.  Right now he didn’t care.  He parted his lips accepting of the kiss he’d thought about, wanted, and dreamed about over and over.  It was wet, sweet, and yet full of a need that both of them had ignored for far too long.

 

Their lips remained inches apart when the kiss broke, their heavy breaths colliding between them.  “Why’re you still here?”  Mal asked his original question again.

 

“You want me.”  Inara said quietly.  “You want me on Serenity.  And you need me here.”  Her fingers danced at the back of his neck.

 

“Don’t need anyone.”  Mal retorted, his volume and tone not backing up the statement as well as he’d have liked them to.  “Get yourself killed if you stay here.  Everyone…  Man’s only got so much luck before it runs out, good or bad.”

 

“Well right now you’ve got good luck.”  Inara’s fingers began to work at the buttons on Mal’s shirt, undoing them one by one to expose his scar-laden skin. Mal was the luckiest man she knew.  The fact that he was still alive was a novelty to any who knew him.

 

Mal slid his fingers over Inara’s shoulders, pulling the robe down with them.  “Ain’t a customer.”  The need to clarify that if only for himself was too strong not to voice it.

 

Inara nodded, her fingers faltering slightly at the buttons over his stomach.  “I never said you were, Mal.”

 

Mal looked up to Inara for a moment before leaning forward to press his lips to her collarbone.  No, Inara hadn’t said she was quitting.  Yes, he was jumping in headfirst.  And yes, he knew how badly she could break him.  Right now, he was counting on one thing to get him through this: sheer dumb luck.

 

 

 

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