aim_to_misbehave: ([Malnara] The Object Of His Affection)
There comes a time in every man's life when he has to stand up for what he believes in, when he has to set his pride aside and step up to make a difference in the world and in his life. It's a breaking point, a defining second when he knows he's better than his lot, and reaches out for a piece of that which he is, by rights, entitled to.

For Captain Malcolm Reynolds, that moment came during a four AM fit of insomnia, passing by Rick Castle's door and hearing the soft sound of moans coming from behind it.

It made his blood boil and his temper rise, not just at Inara and her stubborn, stupid, stubborn gorramn refusal to cut anyone, least of all herself, a little slack, but at himself for dancing around her this long. Believing in something...sure, he believed in them. Plenty. He was just too big a piece of space trash to do something about it.

Some passing thought about what a whore Castle was made him think of it, actually let him sleep when he returned to his room. Alone.

So the next morning, bright and early, before she had a chance to run and hide in her ruttin' space at the temple, Mal was knocking at her door until she opened it for him.

"Way I see it," he began, scared to death but angry enough to keep himself put, "you got two choices, this second, right here and now. One? You sleep with me, free of charge. If you feel nothin'? I will never darken your door again. You 'n me, we'll go on, and I'll not pester you 'bout this nonsense of you 'n me together ever again."

One hand darted out to catch her wrist, hauling her hard against his body right there in her doorway. Before she could react, he had an arm around her waist and a hand at her cheek, tipping her head up to him.

"Two? You tell me no, and I kiss you, right here, right now, 'till you faint. And can't you or any power in the 'verse stop me." he growled. "So you got 'till I'm shuttin' you up to agree or give me a good gorram reason...a good gorram reason...why I shouldn't do exactly what I've said I will."

And fair man that he was, he gave her a second, one moment of stillness and silence in the vice of his arms before he started leaning down to steal his kiss...and her reason.
aim_to_misbehave: ([Malnara] The Object Of His Affection)
He who does not know how to be silent will not know how to speak.

==========

NOTE: Takes place in the latter half of Serenity: Those Left Behind just after Book informs Mal that he's leaving.

He never did know how to keep his fool mouth shut…which was probably how he ended up standing in an empty mess, saying a whole lot of something to a whole lot of nothing. Ultimately, he had to agree that that was the whole problem with him and his like.

People with big mouths never did know when to open ‘em or keep ‘em shut.

And that left him with all he had to offer: a whole lot of nothing. It didn’t matter what he had to say or what he felt, because he’d waited too long and been too much the coward to break that lock and open that door to let her see what was inside him. It rankled something powerful to know that Inara Serra, a stuffy, arrogant, mei yong-duh Companion had managed what an entire army of Purple Bellies with guns a-blazing never had: she scared him stupid.
Well…maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration. She wasn’t completely mei yong-duh, after all.

He could no longer say the same for himself, though, and he hated her for that. He blamed and hated her for the fact that her existence made him a worthless, useless blob that couldn’t do much more than grieve over his own stupidity. He hated her for robbing him of his dignity, his strength, and his voice. A man could only hold himself accountable for so much before he had to take a look at them that made his crew and dish out a little responsibility so he didn’t drown in it.

Inara was responsible for being what she was. Existing was her crime, being a walking talking bit of shiny like the trinkets in her shuttle, the kind of thing that a body could live without until it couldn’t the second it laid eyes on her. He hated her for making him want something like that, irrational and crazed…for a brief instant, he was one motionless, rock-solid ball of flesh and hatred that burned so hot and so black it made him just a little sick.

Sick and silent, and when he swallowed past the bile, uncaring. He didn’t care she was leaving, didn’t care Book was leaving…didn’t care about a hell of a lot beyond the ship under his feet and keeping her afloat.

He wouldn’t care, and without her around to keep poking at that lump of gos se that used to be his heart, he hoped it was going to be a mite easier.

Muse: Malcolm Reynolds
Fandom: Firefly/Serenity
Words: 416

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Captain Malcolm Reynolds

February 2011

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