Mal had asked Freya at the end of November what she wanted for Christmas, since it was their first together. Properly together, that is. She’d moved her stuff in with him, and now her incense burner and statue sat next to his shaving equipment on the shelf. He’d managed to get used to the scent, although it had been a near thing.

They had actually spent a Christmas together once before, during the winter campaign outside New Casmir, but they weren’t exactly alone. Nearly a thousand men and women from both sides were dug in around there, and no-one had actually felt like celebrating too much. Not with three feet of dirty snow and no food to speak of. They had sung carols when they figured it had gotten to the actual point of midnight, at Mal’s suggestion, and he had revealed a rather pleasant voice that sang the old words with sincerity, and flowed through her like melted toffee. He’d been surprised at the strength of her voice too, and had found he’d wanted to hear more.

“So what do you want?” He pulled his boots off, sitting on their bunk. “Within reason,” he added quickly.

She smiled at him as she undid the buttons on her shirt. “There’s nothing I want,” she said, revealing glowing flesh that entirely took his mind off what he had just said.

Two weeks later he tried again, slightly more gingerly as he had managed to get himself a little wounded in the meantime on their last job. This time they were in the galley, and he sat down with care at the table. “Come on,” he said. “I hate not knowing what to get a woman. I’ve had some uncomfortable experiences in that department before, and I’m hurting enough as it is.”

Freya put the cup of coffee down in front of him and sat in the next chair. “There’s nothing I need.”

“You are a singular woman, Freya,” he said, dumbfounded. “I have never known a woman who couldn’t tell me exactly what they wanted, usually with a full description and a price tag. You ain’t normal.”

She smiled. “That I’m not.”

He leaned forward, suppressing a sl