He wasn’t sly. He knew that. He’d never had any inclination towards menfolk, least of all any on board this ship. The thought of a man touching him, caressing him, made him feel … well, nauseous probably wasn’t too strong a word. But he wasn’t a prude. No matter that Freya had made him feel that way, ribbing on him for being embarrassed, he didn’t want to stop anyone if they were that way disposed. It was just when it came to himself that he was … There were times when he wished he swore, properly, like Mal or Jayne did, without thinking, just letting the feelings out so that they didn’t get in the way of anything, but he couldn’t. When he did curse, it was only after having thought about it carefully, choosing the right words, being aware of who might be around to hear. It wasn't the same.

And then Freya asking him who would be on top … That was a mental image he was determined to get out of his brain, only he had the horrible feeling that it would come up again, probably in the middle of the night, or when he least expected it, like when he was operating on Jayne, or stitching another knife wound on Mal. And of course that had to be the man he almost ran into as he left the dining area.

He sighed. There were times he really wished he’d gone with the other barker, taken the other ship that day on Persephone, instead of letting himself be swayed by a pair of brown eyes and pretty painted toes, and everything in between. Still, if he’d done that, he wouldn’t be with the girl who had become the woman who had become the mother of his child.

He walked slowly down the stairs into the cargo bay, away from the knowing looks and gentle humour above. His heart seemed to skip as he saw Kaylee down below him, unpacking some parts she’d bought just that day.

She looked up at him and smiled. “Hi,” she called, her face breaking into such a smile that he had to return it. She held up a piece of … something. “Isn’t that the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”

He stepped down to the bay floor and