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Author's Note: Written for Firefly Friday fic challenge #2.

First Kiss
by Tara O'Shea

It wasn't supposed to happen like this.

"You've done this before, right?"

"Give Simon room to work, Wash."

They were supposed to be in the infirmary. Where all the drugs were. All the shiny, shiny drugs that women for centuries had relied upon to help get them through the most wonderful experience of their lives.

"But he has done this before, right?"

"Wash, you were there. Remember?"

"I knew this felt familiar for a reason."

They were supposed to be in the infirmary. Where Simon had all the tricks of his trade, not to mention lights, and medical equipment, and everything a doctor might need should any complications arise.

"There's an awful lot of fluids—Is that normal? Is it supposed to involve so much—"

"You ain't never seen a horse foal, have you?" Mal asked conversationally as bullets tinged against the metal walls.

"My mother downloaded My Friend Flicka down off the cortex for me when I was seven. Does that count?"

"I'd have to say no."

It wasn't supposed to happen like this.

"I think I got a leg that time!"

"I'm hoping all I got was a leg," was Book's reply.

They were supposed to be in the infirmary. Not in a shack, rain pouring down outside, punctuated by the occasional gunshot as Mal and Book caught sight of one of the rustlers through the boarded up windows and took aim.