NSP Ficathon Entry: The Long-Delayed Courtship of Doctor Simon Tam - For raynedanser
Title: The Long-Delayed Courtship of Doctor Simon Tam
Author: budclare
Pairing: Mal/Simon
Rating: PG-13, barely
A/N: Pre-slash future fic. No porn. Very sorry. Possibly (hopefully) to be continued...
Recipient: raynedanser
When a man reaches a certain age, he tends to look back on his life and draw some conclusions about the choices that he's made over the years. And in most cases, these conclusions are less than flattering, seeing as it's only the mistakes that haunt you.
Malcolm Reynolds, as he entered what could charitably be called late middle-age, was forced to conclude that he was, in fact, an idiot.
Not that he arrived at this conclusion all at once or anything. It started out as just an inkling that maybe it wasn't quite right the way his eyes tended to linger over certain body parts belonging to a certain doctor of Mal's long-acquaintance. And once he had finally taken note of that tendency, it began to happen ever more often--his eyes deliberately seeking out such sights rather than happening onto them by accident--and with an undeniable quickening of his pulse. Even then, it wasn't until the first time he awoke in the dark of night from a pleasingly erotic dream featuring Doctor Tam that he truly admitted to himself that he might not lean towards womenfolk quite so heavily as he had thought.
None of that was what made him an idiot, mind. The idiocy was that it had taken him somewhere on the order of fifteen years to cotton to the fact that he fancied the doctor more than a little. He could try blaming it on the circumstances of their meeting if he wanted, and in point of fact, he did hold a grudge against Simon for quite some time for threatening to let Kaylee die, even as he grudgingly respected Simon for it. He could blame it on the fact that folk in general are not keen to adjust their views of other folk, preferring constancy to change.
But even after making human nature take its share of the blame, he felt wholly foolish. Because this wasn't his first time, was it? A good two years he and Inara had spent dancing around each other, and near as long again was spent dancing around the truth that they really weren't good for each other after all. Life's too short for ifs and maybes, he'd told her once, but he never did seem to learn that lesson himself.
It wasn't just the idiocy of the lost time that burned, it was the knowledge that maybe fifteen years was too gorram long. Simon might not be able to return Mal's feelings after they'd been friends for so very long, assuming that there was ever that possibility to begin with. After all, while Mal had long suspected that deep down Simon might be a bit sly, he had never, to Mal's knowledge, done anything to prove it. Mal knew Simon to be a not-infrequent visitor to Miss Talia's fine establishment, and if it'd been the boy-whores whose services Simon had been engaging, Mal would surely have caught wind of it. There were few secrets in a town so small.
Still, there wasn't a man in the whole province who wouldn't gladly wed his daughter to the well-respected and handsome Doctor Tam given the chance, and yet Simon had managed to remain a bachelor all these years.
So Mal was forced to do the only thing that he could do when faced with such a conundrum: he saddled his favorite horse, rode into town, and sat on the front steps of the schoolhouse until class let out for the day. Which turned out to be a longer wait than he had anticipated, which in turn probably made him look more than a little foolish to the occasional passerby on the street. He didn't care. Much.
As the sun lowered in the sky, he was forced to seek refuge on the porch proper, but even keeping in the shade he was sweaty and irritable by the time children started streaming from the building. Some of them gave him confused looks as they went by, but he still didn't care. He was damned well going to get an answer.
River finally emerged from the one-room schoolhouse to see the last of her students off. She reminded one student to finish his history assignment by tomorrow, gently admonished another to spend more time studying her spelling words, told others that she would see them tomorrow--all the while casting amused glances Mal's way. The last student said, "Goodbye, Ms. Tam," and then was gone.
When the boy was well out of earshot, River turned to Mal with what could only be described as a smirk. She said simply, "Yes."
Mal heaved a resigned sigh. He'd been sitting there so long, anxiously stewing over his problem, there was no way a 'reader as strong as River could help "overhearing". Assuming she hadn't seen the whole thing coming years ago, which, knowing her, she had. "To which question?" Mal said.
"Most of them," she said, smiling more kindly now. She took a seat beside him on the dusty floor of the porch.
"You think he might?" Mal said.
"Yes."
"You think I should?"
"Most definitely."
Mal stared moodily off into the distance. In a way, it'd have been easier if she'd told him to forget the whole thing. "What do I even say to him? 'You know, I've just noticed that you've got a really nice ass. Wanna try a roll in the hay?'"
River laughed at him, one of those carefree laughs that had been so very rare and precious back on Serenity. Far more common now, but still a delight to hear. "If you do, wait till he's eating. He'll choke and die, but at least he won't say no," she said.
Mal chuckled, then paused to think it over. "That idea does hold some merit..."
"It's nearly Valentine's Day, you know. On the old Earth calendar," River said. She gave him a kiss on the cheek and went back inside the school, leaving Mal to his thoughts.
Author: budclare
Pairing: Mal/Simon
Rating: PG-13, barely
A/N: Pre-slash future fic. No porn. Very sorry. Possibly (hopefully) to be continued...
Recipient: raynedanser
When a man reaches a certain age, he tends to look back on his life and draw some conclusions about the choices that he's made over the years. And in most cases, these conclusions are less than flattering, seeing as it's only the mistakes that haunt you.
Malcolm Reynolds, as he entered what could charitably be called late middle-age, was forced to conclude that he was, in fact, an idiot.
Not that he arrived at this conclusion all at once or anything. It started out as just an inkling that maybe it wasn't quite right the way his eyes tended to linger over certain body parts belonging to a certain doctor of Mal's long-acquaintance. And once he had finally taken note of that tendency, it began to happen ever more often--his eyes deliberately seeking out such sights rather than happening onto them by accident--and with an undeniable quickening of his pulse. Even then, it wasn't until the first time he awoke in the dark of night from a pleasingly erotic dream featuring Doctor Tam that he truly admitted to himself that he might not lean towards womenfolk quite so heavily as he had thought.
None of that was what made him an idiot, mind. The idiocy was that it had taken him somewhere on the order of fifteen years to cotton to the fact that he fancied the doctor more than a little. He could try blaming it on the circumstances of their meeting if he wanted, and in point of fact, he did hold a grudge against Simon for quite some time for threatening to let Kaylee die, even as he grudgingly respected Simon for it. He could blame it on the fact that folk in general are not keen to adjust their views of other folk, preferring constancy to change.
But even after making human nature take its share of the blame, he felt wholly foolish. Because this wasn't his first time, was it? A good two years he and Inara had spent dancing around each other, and near as long again was spent dancing around the truth that they really weren't good for each other after all. Life's too short for ifs and maybes, he'd told her once, but he never did seem to learn that lesson himself.
It wasn't just the idiocy of the lost time that burned, it was the knowledge that maybe fifteen years was too gorram long. Simon might not be able to return Mal's feelings after they'd been friends for so very long, assuming that there was ever that possibility to begin with. After all, while Mal had long suspected that deep down Simon might be a bit sly, he had never, to Mal's knowledge, done anything to prove it. Mal knew Simon to be a not-infrequent visitor to Miss Talia's fine establishment, and if it'd been the boy-whores whose services Simon had been engaging, Mal would surely have caught wind of it. There were few secrets in a town so small.
Still, there wasn't a man in the whole province who wouldn't gladly wed his daughter to the well-respected and handsome Doctor Tam given the chance, and yet Simon had managed to remain a bachelor all these years.
So Mal was forced to do the only thing that he could do when faced with such a conundrum: he saddled his favorite horse, rode into town, and sat on the front steps of the schoolhouse until class let out for the day. Which turned out to be a longer wait than he had anticipated, which in turn probably made him look more than a little foolish to the occasional passerby on the street. He didn't care. Much.
As the sun lowered in the sky, he was forced to seek refuge on the porch proper, but even keeping in the shade he was sweaty and irritable by the time children started streaming from the building. Some of them gave him confused looks as they went by, but he still didn't care. He was damned well going to get an answer.
River finally emerged from the one-room schoolhouse to see the last of her students off. She reminded one student to finish his history assignment by tomorrow, gently admonished another to spend more time studying her spelling words, told others that she would see them tomorrow--all the while casting amused glances Mal's way. The last student said, "Goodbye, Ms. Tam," and then was gone.
When the boy was well out of earshot, River turned to Mal with what could only be described as a smirk. She said simply, "Yes."
Mal heaved a resigned sigh. He'd been sitting there so long, anxiously stewing over his problem, there was no way a 'reader as strong as River could help "overhearing". Assuming she hadn't seen the whole thing coming years ago, which, knowing her, she had. "To which question?" Mal said.
"Most of them," she said, smiling more kindly now. She took a seat beside him on the dusty floor of the porch.
"You think he might?" Mal said.
"Yes."
"You think I should?"
"Most definitely."
Mal stared moodily off into the distance. In a way, it'd have been easier if she'd told him to forget the whole thing. "What do I even say to him? 'You know, I've just noticed that you've got a really nice ass. Wanna try a roll in the hay?'"
River laughed at him, one of those carefree laughs that had been so very rare and precious back on Serenity. Far more common now, but still a delight to hear. "If you do, wait till he's eating. He'll choke and die, but at least he won't say no," she said.
Mal chuckled, then paused to think it over. "That idea does hold some merit..."
"It's nearly Valentine's Day, you know. On the old Earth calendar," River said. She gave him a kiss on the cheek and went back inside the school, leaving Mal to his thoughts.