Hank was reading, some trashy novel he’d picked up on his last buying trip, on his back, his head resting on one arm. He couldn’t much lie on his side yet, what with the bullet wound still healing, but he was glad to be back in his bunk. The fact that it had taken Jayne to help him down the ladder still rankled, but he’d live with that. Truth was, he couldn’t stand being around the infirmary any longer, not with Mal spending so much time there. As much as he liked the captain, him and Freya together getting all lovey dovey were sometimes more than a body could stand.

He turned the next page, wanting to see what Clint did to make Emily fall for him, and wondered idly whether it would work with Zoe.

“Can I come down?”

Hank jerked, hearing the first mate’s voice just when he was thinking about her, and groaned a little as the injury pulled. “Um, yeah, sure,” he managed to say.

Zoe climbed sedately down the ladder, and Hank watched first her feet, then her thighs and hips, her torso and arms, and finally her beautiful face appear. He blushed a little at the impure thoughts racing around his libido.

“Hank,” she said without preamble. “We need to talk.”

“Oh. Right.” He put the book down on his hips, trying to hide the slight arousal he was feeling. “What about?”

“Us.”

“Us?” he yelped, twitching again. Through gritted teeth he added, “Is there an ‘us’?”

“If you keep doing that you’re going to open up that hole again,” Zoe warned, pulling the one chair in the bunk across and sitting down. “And thanks, I will take the weight off my feet.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Ain't too comfortable, though.”

“It’s fine.” She stared at him until he started to feel nervous. “You heard what I said in the infirmary,” she remarked finally.

“What?” Hank just couldn’t stop the twitching. “When?”

“You weren’t unconscious, not quite.”

“Um, sorry, Zoe, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He looked bewildered.

She gazed at him, calculating the odds that he was actually telling the