Mal sat in the galley alone, clearing away the mess that had been left after dinner. The ship was quiet, as everyone had turned in for the night. Half grumbling to himself that Kaylee had neglected her turn to wash up, presumably to spend more time in Simon’s bunk, Mal stacked the dishes in the sink.

Finishing, he was about to turn in when he heard something. He paused. Someone was whistling.

Nonplussed, Mal followed the sound, and found his way to the infirmary. He watched, half in amusement, half in disbelief, as Simon moved around the room, tidying, and all the while whistling softly to himself.

When he was done, Simon dimmed the lights and turned, to find Mal standing in the doorway.

“Son of a…” he yelled. He attempted to compose himself. “Captain. Something I can do for you?”

Mal grinned. “Feelin’ a mite cheerful, aren’t we?”

Simon looked vaguely abashed, but was smiling nonetheless. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Right,” Mal agreed. “So your whistling a happy tune like you ain’t got a care in the ‘verse, that ain’t got anything to do with my lil’ Kaylee?”

Simon actually blushed at that, and Mal laughed out loud. “Oh, you’ve got it bad.”

“Maybe,” Simon said softly. The two men moved back into the infirmary, Mal leaning against the counter and watching the doctor as he found something else to fiddle with.

“And is there any particular reason why you’re interested?” Simon asked, not looking up. The though of Mal taking an interest in his love life struck an ominous chord within him.

“You just make me chuckle is all,” Mal said. “The prissy, core-bred doctor spends eight months on this boat and refuses to let go of his refined ways. Then my mechanic gets him in the sack and suddenly he’s whistling…”

Simon laughed.

“And smiling!” Mal added, sounding incredulous.

“I know, it’s hard to believe, but I’m actually not a robot,” Simon said.

There was a comfortable pause.

“So tell me,” Mal said, “what took you so long?”

Simon sobered slightly. “All sort