Firefly; Kaylee; Rated G
Kaylee Frye was most at home in the engine room of Serenity. The whole crew knew it - heck, anyone who'd ever met her probably knew it, too. She knew every nook and cranny like the back of her hand, every gear and thinga-ma-jig and where it hooked up to and what it did. She could assemble the secondary housing core blindfolded, and to her, the hum of the radion-accelerator core was as sweet as a mother's lullaby.
Yes, Kaylee loved her ship, loved her engine room, and wouldn't trade those for all the strawberries in the 'verse, but that didn't mean a girl couldn't dream.
Sometimes she would sneak into Inara's shuttle - well, it was Mal's shuttle, Inara was only renting it - but anyways, she'd sneak onto the shuttle and surround herself with Inara's finery. It was only a joke, really, that she was "sneaking" - Inara knew it and Kaylee knew that Inara knew it, but no one said anything and that's the way they both liked it.
In the hazy soft light, Kaylee would dress in the finest silks and satins and pretend, if even for a few precious moments, she was a fancy Alliance lady, born and bred. Her hair brushed 'till it shone as bright as the engine light, she would dance and move her body to a music only she could hear. And for a while she could forget the dirt under her fingernails, the grease that stained all her clothes and the seemingly endless work it took to keep the ship flying.
Disclaimer: All characters are property of Joss Whedon & Mutant Enemy. No infringement intended.