Zoë was climbing the ladder out of her bunk before Wash had started dressing, forcing herself not to look back and drink in the sight of his naked body taking up space in her bunk. She pulled on her shirt as she walked, fingering the buttons quickly as she made her way through the corridors and stairs that lead to the cargo bay.

What had she been thinking?

Oh, she knew what she’d been thinking. It had been a harrowing day, and a long time since she’d gotten any play. And here was this cocky pilot, flirting with her and making her laugh, hard working and good at what he did, and far too forward. He was crazy, and brave in an honest kind of way that had nothing to do with the egotistical bravado that seemed drive so many of the men she’d met in her life time. She had thought to take a nice big bite and get it out of her system, but the experience had moved her in a way she didn’t want to think about.

It couldn’t be anything more then just blowing off steam.

She thumped down the metal stairs, taking out her irritation on them, stomping to a halt in front of her Captain, who cocked eyebrow at her surly arrival.

“Just attempting to set things to right in my bunk, sir,” she said. And failing miserably, she added to herself. There was no change in the placid look she presented to Mal, however.

“Where’s Wash?” Mal asked looking up toward the bridge.

“I reckon doing much of the same,” she replied blithely, banishing the mental image that came to her of Wash sprawled beautifully naked on her bed, looking like he had something to say.

“Well these crates need two people for haulin’,” he pressed the button on the console again. “Wash!”

“Yeah,” Wash’s voice sounded from above stairs, and Zoë found herself looking up to see him making his way down, his hair in even greater disarray then usual, if such a thing was possible, and she felt a treacherous lurch in her stomach at the thought that her fingers had made it so. “I’m here Cap’n, just …” he scratched the back of his head and Zoë felt a moment o