Slow Burn

Simon already had bandages lined up on a sterile tray when Zoe poked her head into the infirmary, "Doc? You got a...oh." She trailed off, seeing him standing at the ready. "You sure that Reader stuff isn't contagious, Simon?" She entered the room, and slid into place on the table.

"Well, this is the forth time you've stopped in this week," he examined the hand she held out for him. No bleeding this time, but some slight discoloration. "What happened?"

“Jayne.”

He chuckled, both his hands cradling hers delicately. "I should have known. What did the man-ape do this time?"

"He dropped the cargo on my hand," she didn't watch him as he examined her hand, couldn't look at his hand in hers, the contrast between her dark skin, rough from years of hard work, and his pale white and smooth.

"What happened? Did he blink and fall asleep?" He turned her hand over in his, looking for bruises before releasing it.

"You'll have to ask him. I try not to figure out what's going through his head. It's one of the few places that scares me."

She closed her eyes, waiting for the feel of skin on skin to sooth the rapid beat of her heart. She wouldn't watch. But she'd feel. She waited for the heat of his fingers to melt into her, listened to his soft breathing. She was almost able to hear that buzz of energy that radiated from him, had learned over the last four months that he was his most vibrant within these walls.

"Bend your wrist for me," he instructed and she complied.

No one touched her. Not since Wash. All but the one time Jayne had no choice but to pick her up or leave her bleeding in the street, and even then, he'd hesitated. Like he'd thought she would break.

"Good," she could hear Simon nodding to himself. "I'm going to manipulate your fingers here, check for breaks. Let me know if anything hurts."

Simon wasn’t scared of breaking her.

Biting her lip, she nodded, anticipating his touch so much that she jumped when it came, the shock skittering up her arm and through her body.