Serenity landed on Boros in the middle of a thunderstorm, lightning flashing all around. Hank settled her gently down, just as a particularly bright flash lit the interior of the bridge.

“We gonna be okay?” Mal asked, only a little bit nervously.

“We’re fine, Mal,” Hank assured him. “Just a little bit of noise, that’s all.”

“Good. Can’t be having anything going wrong today.”

Hank grinned. “It won’t. And the weather’s supposed to clear up soon enough.”

“Better. Or Freya’s likely to throw a hissy fit and refuse to get married at all.”

“A hissy fit?” Hank couldn’t believe it. “A hissy fit?” He laughed. “What’s it worth not to tell her you said that?”

“How about keeping your job?”

“Nope. Not even that.”

“Then I’ll just shoot you and be done with it.” Mal stomped off the bridge back towards his bunk, hearing his pilot in the background.

“Hissy fit!”

---

They’d pulled by Persephone only long enough to pick up Inara and get paid, although for once Badger had wanted to talk.

“’Ear you’re gettin’ married, Mal,” he said, his apple peeler squealing slightly.

“Wanna get that greased,” Mal offered. “Wouldn’t want a fine piece of antiquerie like that to break down, would you?”

Badger wouldn’t be side-tracked. “To Freya, no less.”

“How did you hear about that?” Mal asked, sighing, letting the little man have his fun.

Badger grinned. “Got my fingers in a lot of pies, Mal. I ‘ear lots of stuff. And one of ‘em was about a certain Malcolm Reynolds making plans to get ‘isself hitched on Boros. That you?”

“It is,” Mal agreed, settling himself more firmly. “Just as soon as we get there.”

“Now you shoulda done it ‘ere,” Badger said, opening his arms to indicate his own personal den of iniquity. “I coulda done you a real good deal.”

“Well, as appealing as that may sound, Freya had this real hankering to get married on Boros,” Mal said regretfully. “And as she can make my life all kinds of hell, I kinda let her have her way.”

“Hen-pecked already?” Badger tut