Mal’s first impressions on waking was the warm comforting pressure on his chest and by his side. Then geese, gorram rutting loud rutting geese. It could only mean he had not made it back to his bunk, but was still outside. A strange movement made him stiffen and he opened an eye with difficulty, looking down. When he managed to focus, only made possible by opening the other eye as well, he recognised Inara’s dark curly head. The buttons of his shirt were undone and her face and hand were touching the bare skin of his chest and stomach. A wave of desire, followed very swiftly by hangover nausea, washed over him and he took some breaths to steady it. What had he done last night? Wu de tyen ah , it felt good holding her again and feeling her weight against him. He sighed and closed his eyes again, time enough for the day to start and for it all to go back to go se , but at least he would have this moment.

Inara woke as a pan dropped onto metal, and winced as the sound seared through her head like an arrow. She did not want to open her eyes, as it would likely cause her more pain. Just sleep. Sleep was the best remedy for a hangover. She only hoped that Ishmael would not come into her room and insist on dragging her out of bed. Son or no, she would throttle him. She frowned as she felt a gentle breeze on her face. She unglued her eyes and found herself starring at someone’s smooth chest, her belly flip-flopping with recognition. Mal, she was lying on Mal, and her leg was curled over his. She wondered if he was still asleep. What had she done last night? She did mental inventory on her clothes and then chided herself, Mal would never take advantage of her if she was drunk. But then she remembered he had been too.

There was another clang of metal against metal followed by, she presumed, some German expletives. Inara sighed and lifted her head as gently as she could, bracing her hand on the ground to help herself rise. She dared a look at Mal’s face only to find him looking at her