Work Text:
Serenity Diner, Haven. A backwater diner in a backwater town. Exactly where it needed to be, exactly when it needed to be there. Or so Mal had always said, staring around at his establishment with the kind of pride that came from a hard won victory. Staying in business from month to month was that; a battle, most days you thought you weren't going to make it but you kept on slogging through, making just enough to keep the roof over your head and the staff paid for another month.
Zoe had looked at him like he'd grown a second head when he'd bought it. A run down money pit with no hope of steady custom. The diner had taken more than her fair share of knocks over the years - just like Mal and Zoe, just like everyone who found their home within her walls - but she was still fighting. Didn't give up.
Not even when she probably should have. She was like her inhabitants like that.
Mal crossed his arms, glaring at the stack of pristine white tablecloths staring at him from a box. “We don't need any lace frufru on the tables, Inara. People come here for food, not decoration.”
“Your customers come for the food despite your … rustic atmosphere, Mal,” Inara replied calmly. “A little bit of civility wouldn't kill you. It might even help you pay the rent on time.”
Jayne grunted from his booth, looking over the shopping list Zoe had managed to get Kaylee and Simon to pare down. Jayne would get it all, long as they didn't ask how or think on it too hard.
“We don't need no ruttin' civility!”
“Because your charming attitude keeps the customers coming,” Simon muttered sarcastically from the kitchen. His voice carried in the empty diner.
Jayne spun around, narrowing his eyes on Simon. The doctor turned chef just kept on preparing for the night's meal like he'd never said anything at all. Fancy food in a backwater diner. At least the novelty got them custom. Maybe enough to make rent this month without relying on Inara's tea room clientele.
Mal caught movement at the counter, Wash balancing on a chair while he carefully amended the specials blackboard. He aimed a glare at Wash's back, his luridly patterned shirt beginning to give Mal a headache.
“Just the specials, no additions, dong ma?”
Wash saluted off his temple. “Got it, Mal!”
Kaylee peered out of the kitchen, her face smeared with an odd combination of frosting and machine oil. “Oven's fixed, Cap'n!” she chirped, beaming out at them. “And my happy pie is on the menu!”
Wash hummed, chalk scrawling across the blackboard. “Simon, still not elaborating on soup of the day?”
Simon, who preferred to focus on making diner food taste cordon bleu, sniffed. “It's soup, they'll eat it.”
“It's french onion with croutons,” River's disembodied voice announced, Mal cutting his gaze to the ceiling. Simon's sister loved hiding in there until opening time. “You should make more, Simon, we'll run out.”
Simon followed Mal's eyeline, sighing at his sister. “I'm working on the lamb now-”
“Make soup,” River insisted, swinging into view in the kitchen vent. “The lamb will be tomorrow's special sandwich.”
Simon shooed his sister away with the flap of a teatowel. “I'm not making special sandwiches tomorrow, mei-mei!”
River peeked through the vent over the counter, her dark eyes twinkling with mischief. “Yes, he is.”
Inara smiled, as relaxed in the midst of the chaos as Mal felt. “River, tell Mal the tablecloths will work.”
River thought, her nails tapping an eerie rhythm on the metal of the vent. “Only half the tables.”
Mal grunted. Half was a good compromise. Better than covering all his tables with frufru, and if it didn't work Inara couldn't tell him he hadn't tried.
Shepherd Book emerged from the living area they'd cobbled together in the space above the diner. Mal nodded at him. “Help cover these tables with frufru?”
Shepherd Book nodded, shaking out his cloth with the ease of a man who'd done this before. As the anecdote about tablecloths in the Abbey that Mal tuned out, letting his voice become part of the background chatter of his diner.
Jayne grunting over supply lists. Simon and Kaylee prepping the meal in the kitchen. Wash scribbling with the chalk. River moving through the vents, almost soundless but for those that knew her. Inara's breath even and calm. Home.
Inara's eyes laughed, her gaze fixed towards the wall above the counter. “I see Wash couldn't resist.”
Mal closed his eyes, telling himself when he looked at the specials board that it would look like it should. Kaylee's cheerful, flowery Specials printed at the top. Neat, orderly rows of their specials. Prices large enough not to need customers to have their hands held about reading them. At the bottom, neat silver calligraphy promoting Inara's Tea Service By Appointment.
The chalk board as Mal had ordered it.
Not, as his unhappy gaze found, littered with chalky drawings of dinosaurs.
Mal closed his eyes again, counting slowly backwards from ten. He spun on his heel, yelling towards the closet turned manager's office.
“Zoe! Your husband! Your problem!”
“I'll get right on that, sir.” Then softer, less muffled as his manager emerged. “Dinosaurs again, really?”
Wash did not look chagrined. “The dinosaurs are important, Lambytoes.”
Zoe arched an eyebrow. “So is Mal not strangling my husband and his best server before dinner.”
“Don't tempt me,” Mal called, idly smoothing out a wrinkle in one of the tablecloths. “I can wait tables myself.”
“The last time you waited on Badger, you had Jayne throw him out before he finished ordering,” Zoe said levelly, Mal cursing her good memory. “And you know River can't, she imitates his accent every time.”
“He's fun to play with,” River agreed, her voice emerging from deep in the vents.
“You have us under standing orders not to let you wait tables,” Book added, smiling placidly from his place by the counter.
“Shiny,” Mal muttered to himself. His crew were all ingrates. “I'll remember this when I'm considerin' pay rises.”
The silence that followed, Mal decided to take as chastened. Not biting cheeks not to laugh out loud.
River materialised beside him, apron tied, uniform neat. “Customers are coming.”
Mal had learned not to doubt her. He clapped his hands and the chaos ceased. Or kicked into higher gear. Either way, they were open for business.
Inara waltzed over to her private area, the faint scent of candles following not long after. Jayne continued slouching over his lists, his shoulders gaining a line of readiness for trouble. Book moved to the doors, ready to greet and seat: he had a way of seating the right customer in the right section. Zoe disappeared back to her office, and Wash hung up the dinosaur littered specials board.
Business as usual.
An hour or so later, Serenity was busy. Half her tables were full, River calling out dishes to Simon, Kaylee putting the finishing touches to her pies. Book was on break, mediating a discussion between two feuding lovers. Wash seemed to be everywhere at once, plates covering more of his body than the health inspectors would be sanguine with.
Mal had taken over at the door while Book was shepherding. The door swung open, Mal seeing a bowler hat and a worn suit jacket before…
“Malcolm!”
Mal felt his skin crawl. His fist clenching instinctively. That voice. Cheerful, smarmy-
“Jayne,” he gritted, the eviction order on the tip of his tongue.
Inara swept in from nowhere, tucking her hand into his arm. “Come with me, Mal,” she said, the request sounding more like an order. “We can have tea.”
Jayne slumped in disappointment. Wash hurried over to get Badger seated and collect his order before River decided to have some fun. Food was delivered, drinks poured. The diner carried on. And Mal had tea with Inara and tried to work out if this was feeling more like a date than usual.