Looking back, Mal could only offer to himself that age-old excuse all males have when recounting youthful hijinks that perhaps did not end quite as planned: Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Which, really, didn’t lessen the embarrassment, the humiliation or, for that matter, the weeks of rude comments Jayne would surely have handy. Or the doc’s sarcasm or – perhaps deadliest of all – that arched right eyebrow from Zoe. Just one eyebrow. Quirked upward no more than a few millimeters. But oh, so devastating. Mal suspected that poor Wash had been on the receiving end of that right eyebrow more than a few times. Sadly, with Wash gone, it was instead Mal’s turn in the barrel.

The whole thing had started so innocently, really. Don’t they just all, Reynolds?

He had wanted to surprise Inara for their three-month anniversary. Something special, something different, something she’d never forget. And most importantly, something the rest of the crew wouldn’t find out about, seeing as they had worked very hard to keep it between themselves for those first few heady Dear-Sweet-Baby-Jesus-what-are-we-doing months.

He’d managed three of the four.

The idea first came to him when he recalled an old army drinking song about two young girls playing a prank on a poor hapless Scotsman from Earth-That-Was. The punchline involved a silk blue ribbon tied around a certain part of the fellow’s anatomy. This was where the whole part about it seeming like a good idea at the time came into play.

He’d managed to score a decent-sized bottle of high-end sake, a dozen roses (11 pale peach and one red) and a small spherical cloisonne box, inside which was cleverly hidden two chocolate truffles. Best not to speculate on how, as the why was more important. He’d also kiped one of River’s numerous hair ribbons in the appropriate shade of blue.

Armed with all of this, the devious plan was hatched. He’d let himself into the shuttle with his access card and wait for her, holding the gifts. Wearing nothing