Work Text:
Right into the thick, hard frame of the infirmary door, Mal suddenly but not inexplicably slammed his fist.
Simon flinched, but only because he'd seen several scans of Mal's hand before, not to mention held it in his own, felt it skim along his face, his torso. He often wondered how the man's body took the kind of abuse it took. His job was dangerous, and Simon knew that first-hand now, after going out with them today. He'd even come home with a souvenir for his trouble.
Mal gestured at Simon's arm, the abrasions he was cleaning. He barked, "That-- That is exactly why the ship's doctor doesn't get to leave the ship."
Simon snorted. "Of course, it's about me being the ship's doctor."
Mal's nostrils flared, but he bit back a reply. That made Simon uneasy in a way even the doorframe-punching couldn't.
"It's nothing," Simon said. It really was, compared to the cuts that littered Jayne's arms and chest. He'd only just finished cleaning him up before Mal reappeared, apparently spoiling for a private scuffle.
"It could've been a lot more of that nothing," Mal said. "Especially since you flat out refuse to carry a gun. What kind of sagua—"
"Captain." He knew Mal would pay attention to that, even if his tone would piss him off. "You know I don't like dealing with guns. They make me nervous."
"Well, you make me nervous, jumping right into the middle of things, just because Jayne went and got himself sliced up. I never should have let you out of my sight. You could have been…" He shook his head.
A smirk knowing and affectionate warmed Simon's face before he could stop it or stop Mal from seeing it.
When Mal frowned and leaned back against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest, Simon slid over to him and grabbed him by both sides of the neck. It was more than partly so he could resist taking up the man's hand and examining it.
Simon looked into his eyes and said, "You know how you have that impulse to fight, to win all these crazy altercations you get yourself into? Well, I have the impulse to protect people, even somebody as stubbornly reckless as Jayne."
Mal's face quirked into a smile, one he did his best to suppress. But he replied evenly, "I believe I understand that."
"I thought you might."
Mal finally let the smile take over his face as one of his hands came to rest at Simon's waist, giving it a squeeze. Then he nodded at the abrasions on Simon's arm and said, "You gonna live?"
"Yes."
"Good. 'Cause if you manage to get yourself hurt again, I'll kill you." Mal pinched his waist again, this time a little harder. "Dong ma?" With a severe look that still managed to seem vulnerable, he withdrew from his arms and slipped out of the infirmary.
Simon snorted at Mal's retreating form, then he grinned. "You wouldn't want to kill the ship's only doctor, would you?" he said.
Mal tossed the words over his shoulder: "You know, Doc, you don't have to be so gorram smug to get people's attention."
Simon laughed as he went back to dressing the wound on his arm. He called out, "No. Just yours."