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Job Hazard

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His legs were hairless. And somehow soft and round and even chubby. In a way. Where they stuck out under his belted underwear. His entire body was soft and chubby and hairless. Except for his head, of course. That hair was as always. Or near so.

Didn't help him look more intimidating none, and better than half of his crew were taller than him and they all had dimples. Dimples in their chubby, adorable cheeks! How in the gorram verse were they supposed to be doing jobs?

It was just so incredibly unfair! It took a lot to suppress a manful stomp onto the pilot chair on which he stood to reach the controls. A lot was more than he had and the chair wobbled slightly.

"Don't worry so much, Cap'n," little Kaylee chirped with her squeaky little-girl voice, which just sounded utterly wrong belting out the sudden cussing she let loose underneath the console. "I can't turn this... Jayne?"

A head of angelic brown curls shuffled past the arm rest next to Mal's leg and soon disappeared from view crawling down where Kaylee's tiny bare feet wiggled in annoyance. "First time I'm down and sideways with ya, and we're no more'n pint-sized. There's just no rightness in that."

Kaylee girl-giggled and so did Jayne. And he sounded like a gorram choir boy.

Wrong. All manner of wrong.

"You just behave down there," he yelled over the ensuing metallic, mechanical noises.

"Yessir." More giggling. There was just no respect to be had wearing Kaylee's flower-print tanktop, for lack of anything else small enough not to fall down right around him.

The only consolation, in this mess, was that Simon seemed to feel even more miserable than he did, wrapped in one of his fancible shirts, hovering over a suspiciously unmorbified and - good God - bare-naked River, who in turn hovered over a very unsuspiciously exasperated, very disturbingly tiny Zoe. In a Hawaiian shirt.

"Any reason you're staring at me, sir, instead of lookin