Disclaimer: Firefly and Serenity belong to Joss Whedon.

Simon/Inara is an unusual ship, and I understand that. Please don't read if it's not your cup of tea. I do not appreciate being flamed just because you don't like the ship. If you read and flame just because of that, well, it's your own fault. I warned you.

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Simon could see the soft, golden flame atop the candle on the beautifully carved cherry wood table beside them flicker in the draft that blew through the room from some unseen cracks in the seal around the doorway to the shuttle. The flame was small, but it cast a pleasant glow over the objects in the room, causing blurred shadows to writhe and dance on the walls.

The air around the lovers was thick with sandalwood and rosemary, burners filled with incense and essential oils shimmering around them. It was pleasantly warm, but at the same time not so warm that any added body heat would make it unbearable. Silk hangings adorned the walls, transforming the interior of the shuttle from a cold steel prison and into a warm, opulent and elegant place of union.

Soft classical music echoed in the small, intimate space, wrapping it’s gentle notes around the couple seated comfortably on the plush sofa. A soft Persian rug covered the floor of the shuttle, making it warm and cozy. It was the perfect place and every item, every candle, every statue placed in the room added to the atmosphere, to the ambiance.

Simon sat back against the cushions, watching Inara, watching the way the mist rising from her cup of hot green tea swirled around her face and shimmered in her eyes. He watched the way her hair hung in perfect, loose curls framing her face. Simon’s eyes wandered lower and his gaze flittered over the ornate glass beads of the necklace that hung around her neck and dipped just beneath the low neckline of her dress.

Simon looked past the red glass of the beads, his gaze wandering over the soft, perfectly tan