***

Mal was leaning up against the infirmary door watching the doctor work intently. He was struggling to keep from fiddling with his ear. But it was so gorram itchy he was having to keep his hand in his pocket, gripping the fabric inside. His chest was sore, but not nearly as much as it would been without the pain killers the doctor had so generously administered.

Sill, he knew he would not be feeling good in the morning.

Simon’s back was to him as he once again studied and toyed with the scans of his sister’s brain. He did that every night since they had pulled the hospital heist. He would stay up until the unholy hours of the morning before trying to sleep. To the doc’s credit, though, he never complained once. Still, Mal could tell it was beginning to wear on him.

“Ya know,” Mal started, suppressing the grin that wanted to form on his lips when Simon jumped, “I don’t think those scans of yours are going anywhere. Why don’t you try and get some rest?”

After getting over the initial surprise, Simon’s expression become emotionless, “I’d say the same for you. Torture must be exhausting.” He turned back to the console he was working on.

Mal watched him for a few minutes, taking in the sight before him. He had always admired the dedication Simon had for his sister. It was love, pure and simple. Real love. Something that was considerably hard to find out in the ‘verse.

“Well,” he said finally, making his way into the infirmary, “It’s a mite hard to rest when ya’ve grown accustomed to having another body next to ya.” When he reached the doctor he wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling their hips together, resting his chin on Simon’s shoulder, “It gets mighty chilly.” He whispered into his ear.

He could feel Simon lean back lightly into the touch but not so much as to hurt him. A hand unconsciously moved to rest on top of Mal’s, using his other to reach behind him to rub the captain’s thigh.

“So,” Mal said, “How ‘bout it?” He planted a light kiss on Simon’s neck.

Simon was, in all hone