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Call her silly, but Kaylee loved Christmas. The gifts and the trees and the multicolored lights, the warmth of the day, oozing out like the filling of a fresh baked pie.
The captain didn't share her enthusiasm, exactly, but he did fancy granting the crew a rest after several long, hard jobs, and he did tend to go gooey and pliant when she clasped her hands and shut her eyes and said, pretty pretty please.
So Jayne found 'em a tree.
It was thin and willowy and each branch reached outward like an open palm, like supplication.
"Fitting," the shepherd said, as they strung ribbons and candles along her length.
"They stole her," River mumbled, "they took her and her dresses from the people and they turned her into a harlot. Commercialized joy stuffed into socks no one could wear." She picked up a small, shimmery ornament. "I like these."
After the tree was set, Wash found them some music and Zoe opened the liquor, and the captain didn't even fuss once Inara joined the party in a deep red dress, little bows tied into her curls, so she looked like the glass dolls Kaylee used to stare at through window sills until her nose went red.
She was such a sight, the captain had to admit, "you look real pretty," although he looked every which way but hers when he said it.
Zoe settled on Wash's lap and he tucked his chin against her shoulder and whispered something no one else could hear. It made her face go red, and it was a soft, little reminder to anyone who caught it that even though she was their Zoe, their champion, their best shot, she was only Wash's girl.
Something tightened in Kaylee's chest. To be loved that way. She'd drown in that kind of love, if she could. Or at least swim in it, like it was one of those big oceans they occasionally saw through the viewport, a swish of blue so bright it stood out in bleak space.
"You know," Simon said, coming to sit on the floor beside her. "Some of the Christmas traditions have faded out over time. Originally, it was believed that a portly Christian saint would slip into houses and deliver gifts to well-behaved children."
"Santa," Kaylee said, because she knew this one.
He pulled a box from his pocket and held it out for her. "I'm not much of a saint," he said, and that was funny because he was as close to one as she had met out in the black, "But I got you this."
"You got me a gift," she cried, snatching it from his palm. It was light and crinkly.
He smiled funny. "I'm sorry that surprises you."
She unwrapped it quick to find a tiny clay wrench, secured on a short chain. A necklace. "Oh my-"
"It's not much, but-" his words tapered off as she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close for a hug.
"I love it."
His cheeks went red and he stared down at the floor beneath them.
"I didn't know we were doing this," Kaylee admitted, drawing a lock of her hair behind an ear. "I didn't get you anything."
"You did," he said, catching her hand with his own. He gave it a squeeze.
"Yeah?" She teased, "What was it then?"
"Just... You know." Simon smiled for her. "Something to hope for."