Word Count: 1159

Spoilers: None.

Characters/Pairing: Mal/Inara

Rating: PG

A/N: A sequel of sorts to The Worst Medicine, written for Agent Rouka who is feeling unwell and wanted some cuddling.

Cold Comfort

by 2x2

Balancing the tray of soup in one hand, Mal opened the shuttle door and knocked softly. He stepped inside, listening for a reprimand, but heard only silence. The room, softly lit under normal circumstances, was almost completely dark except for the small, warm flicker coming from a lantern near the bed.

Inara sneezed violently, groaning pitifully, eyes puffy and red.

"Still feelin' bad, huh?" Mal said and she glared at him.

“This is your fault, you know,” Inara said, her voice slightly nasal.

He blinked, surprised that she would so openly reference what had happened a few days earlier in his bunk. “Yeah, conjure that’s so,” he said, apologetically. He cleared his throat roughly. “About that—”

She groaned again, a frustrated sound. "What do you want? Is there some particular reason you've barged in here this time?"

"Actually, I knocked," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed beside her carefully.

She sniffed loudly and wiped at her nose with a tissue miserably. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Brought ya some soup," he offered, holding up the tray to show her.

"I'm not hungry," she said petulantly, and Mal had to bite back a grin. Of all the things he'd come to expect from Inara, pouting wasn't one of them.

"I made this special for ya, an' ya ain't even gonna eat none?"

"Mal…" she whined as he helped her to sit

"C'mon, just a little," he coaxed, bringing the spoon to her lips.

She accepted the liquid with a grimace, turning her head as she forced it down, pushing the hand with another spoonful of soup away. "I can't," she said, fighting the urge to bring it back up.

"Simon says you gotta eat—"

"Mal, please… I can't, not right now," she begged and he acquiesced finally, unable to bring himself to push her. He set th