A/N: As you will see the dialogue is not mine but all the rest is.

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It was Inara’s turn to cook that evening. She had decided to try out a new kitchen gadget that had mysteriously appeared after one of the crew's jobs. The problem was the gadget wasn’t cooperating very well. The gorramn thing wouldn’t open. No matter how she twisted, pulled, pushed, and banged on it the top remained firmly in place. Inara took it as a personal challenge – no little piece of go se was going to get the better of her.

So engrossed in her task, Inara didn’t hear Mal walk in.

Mal quickly assessed the situation but didn’t immediately offer to help. He enjoyed watching her little battle with the kitchen machinery – it was so very Un-Inara.

Finally giving in, he walked up behind her. Reaching around her he attempted to take the gadget.

Using her back she shoved him away.

Stung, Mal said, “Hey! Ambassador, I’m only trying to help.”

Still fighting with the appliance, Inara didn’t look at him. “Would you please stop calling me that?”

“Sure, Inara.” His voice softened.

Still not giving up on her task, she twisted the handle harder wanting to show Mal she could do this one job.

“You make things so difficult sometimes.” She gave one last hard push with all her strength which only resulted in hurting her hand.

“I do. I really do. You could be a little nicer though. Come on, admit it. Sometimes you think I’m alright.”

Giving up on the battle, Inara turned to face him. She put her injured hand up to her mouth. “Occasionally. Maybe. When you aren’t acting like a scoundrel.”

Mal took her injured hand and began massaging her fingers and palm.

“Scoundrel? Scoundrel. I like the sound of that.” He didn’t let go of her hand.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?” Mal asked, all innocence.

“Stop that. My hands are dirty.” Inara tried pulling away but Mal wouldn’t let go.

“My hands are dirty, too. What are you afraid of?”

“Af