08/03/2007: "Firefly Fic: Count(down) (Jayne/Simon, PG-13)"

Title: Count(down)
Pairing: Jayne/Simon
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Simon has a few preferences himself.
Disclaimer: Clearly I claim no ownership to the Firefly 'verse or its characters; nor am I making money from this fic writing thing.
Notes: I didn't think I could do this, but I did: I wrote a sequel to What Jayne Likes

Simon has always liked men. He remembers the first time he was really aware of this - fourteen years old, an introductory medical biology class, the material already interesting enough that he decided he really did want to be a doctor. He was relieved, so relieved that he would be able to please his father.

His feelings for the Teacher would not have pleased his father at all. But Simon couldn't help it. When the man - Teacher Aldershot - was speaking, moving his arms, Simon's heart would race. He wouldn't quite be able to breathe - a lump formed in his throat, almost the way he remembered feeling when he was small and he was about to cry. But this was different too, excitement and shyness. Something new. Sometimes he blushed, when the Teacher asked him a question.

Even at that age, he'd been cognizant enough to know that his this excitement wasn't due to the material - however fascinating - or even because he'd shared the lab table with Alissa, the prettiest (and smartest) girl in school.

It was the Teacher. His broad shoulders and strong arms. The way he pronounced words with just the smallest accent, enough to identify him as not from the Core. This in itself was unusual, the school only recruiting the best of Teachers. At least, that was what they'd written in their literature.

Simon had done his best to ignore the feeling; to concentrate on the material. He supposes now that it worked, since he got the highest mark, and the only recommendation in his lab class to continue in the
medical-stream courses in the school. His father had been so proud. Simon had never spoken of his first real crush.

Instead, he'd concentrated on school.

~ ~ ~

Of course, Simon loves medicine. Teacher Aldershot might have had a hand in helping to pique his interest, but Simon knows he could have been taught introductory medical biology by a flea-encrusted orangutan and he still would have loved it.

There is something almost hypnotic about the workings of the human body. It has its own rhythms, and feedbacks, and each body has its own quirks. Simon loves the certainties of basic human biology coupled with the challenges that each individual presents. There are some cases that have been his favourites, both for these challenges, and for the people involved.

He remembers the young girl, multiple fractures in her legs and pelvis; she'd been pushed from the family terrace, four stories above ground. She was lucky she wasn't one of those living on floor 112.

It hadn't been his job to ask who had pushed her, to enquire about her family life. But he took one look at her medical records, as she was being prepared for surgery, and known the basic story. As she'd been recovering, attended by a hulking father, and a cowed mother, Simon had quietly arranged for her transfer out of that home.

There were other favourites, for different reasons.

~ ~ ~

Simon stands by the bed, smiling his professional smile. The patient, Kyle Warner, tries to smile back. "You'll be in recovery for a long time, and you'll need physical therapy, but you will get back most of the range of movement in your arms and legs."

He's exhausted, the surgery had lasted for hours. Simon should be off duty by now, but he'd wanted to wait.

"You're the best, Simon. I'm glad they let you operate."

He relaxes slightly. "So am I. What were you thinking, pulling that kind of stunt?" In university, Kyle had always been the one most willing to try the most dangerous games, the most outrageous things. Simon closes his eyes, remembering how he'd scoffed at Kyle and his type; people wasting their time, secure in the knowledge that their mothers or fathers would find them a job after graduation.

He remembers one afternoon, Kyle cornering him after introductory epidemiology, a course full of things Simon already knew. Kyle had smiled strangely, and then he'd leaned in, boxing Simon against the wall, kissing him intently, paying more attention to Simon's mouth than he ever did to class material.

Simon had stopped scoffing, and started spending less time studying, and more time with Kyle. His grades hadn't been affected. That year had been like a game. Kyle had made it fun; Simon had learned to take some risks.

Kyle is speaking again, his words running into each other from exhaustion. "It seemed like fun at the time." He's talking about the accident that landed him in the hospital, but Simon is still somewhat lost in his memories. Yes. It had. He smiles, and this time, it's not professional.

~ ~ ~

Simon has never been fond of uncertainty. He supposes this is hardly unique, but some people, people like Kyle, and sometimes River, reveled in everyday unpredictability. They took the unknown and made it their
playground.

Simon likes a routine. He likes a clean office and workplace, he likes to know where everything is. He's prepared for emergencies, he always has been - and it's even more important on Serenity. But even then, he likes to know that he will proceed in certain ways, that he will know exactly where all the tools and medicines and supplies are.

He hates it when Mal, or even worse, Jayne, comes into the infirmary and searches something out, leaving a trail of misplaced and incorrectly used supplies. He's resigned to coming to his room and finding that River has removed all of his clothes from his drawer, rearranging them on the floor and bed in a design that only makes sense to her. He expects this from River - to be a disruption in his private life, a zone of unpredictability and familiarity and love and family. She is predictable in her own way.

But Simon really could do without the others playing in his infirmary.

~ ~ ~

He's arranging new supplies, searching out old and new tools, and generally alternatively cursing Jayne for messing around in here, and thanking Mal for thinking to get new medicines.

Jayne has been stalking him for days, although Simon's not sure why. Maybe it harkens back to the chat they had about Ariel; maybe Jayne is planning some kind of retaliation. Simon is waiting to see, biding his time. Meanwhile, Jayne hovers. Stares. Like he's doing right now.

Finally, Simon asks, "What?"

There's a pause, and Jayne answers, "Nothin'."

Internally, Simon sighs, and then sighs out loud when, a few minutes later, Jayne comes over to hover even closer.

"What's that?"

He's tempted to use technical terms, to try and bludgeon Jayne with words he won't understand. But that always seems to be more trouble than it's worth. "Emergency supplies. I like to have things so I know exactly where they are. For when I don't have time to think about it."

Jayne grunts a little, and then, "I got my guns like that in my bunk. So I can grab 'em fast if there's intruders."

Back still to Jayne, Simon rolls his eyes. Please, he thinks, someone spare me from Jayne trying to bond. Maybe Mal will come in, dragging a recalcitrant River who tried to spill juice on the flight controls. Or
maybe Inara will come in with a routine medical question. Anything.

No one comes. So instead, he can't resist making a dig about Jubal Early, shuddering a little bit at the thought of how close the bounty hunter got to taking River. Jayne takes offense, but doesn't leave.

Finally, he just asks Jayne to go. "Jayne? Could you not loom over me like something with its prey?" Only, that isn't the way he'd intended it to come out. He realizes how it sounds once he's said it, how it carries undertones he doesn't want. It's just - Jayne is breathing on his neck, slow puffs of breath that surprisingly, aren't accompanied by waves of stench. Simon always assumed Jayne had questionable hygiene, but maybe - maybe it's just today.

It has been a long time since a man leaned that close, breathed on him, stood so close without intending violence or uttering threats. Simon is unused to the warmth of a large body near his.

He feels heat start to rise up his neck; he knows he's blushing. Jayne leans a little closer, and says,

"You smell good." And then, "I gotta go." The warmth moves away, and Simon looks down at the antibiotic packages he's clutching in his hands. Carefully, he places them in their correct spot.

Simon isn't stupid. Jayne is playing with him. This is unexpected.

Simon has never talked to River about men, although he's sure she knows about some of his past relationships, if not all of them. Did she know what Jayne was up to?

~ ~ ~

Simon begins to count from that day on. A kind of reverse countdown, although at first he doesn't acknowledge this.

On day two after the infirmary, Jayne shows up with a cut on his hand. He claims that River had startled him while he was cleaning knives in the kitchen. He doesn't blame her though, just says his grip slipped.

Simon stitches him up, and says, "I thought you would have learned not to clean knives in public places after last time."

Jayne just shrugs, leans close, and takes a deep breath. "Still smell good."

Simon frowns. If this Jayne's idea of flirting, it leaves much to be desired.

~ ~ ~

Day four is uneventful, but Jayne kicks him twice under the dinner table. The first time he frowns. The second time, he asks, "Do you mind?"

The others look up. Jayne looks confused.

"What? It were an accident."

Right. Simon scowls.

~ ~ ~

On day five, Jayne drags Simon behind a pile of crates, all the while firing at the intruders in the cargo bay. "Shoulda stayed upstairs."

Simon is busy inspecting his shoulder. The bullet grazed him, stunning him more than anything. He's bleeding, but he can function.

"I don't like bein' distracted while I'm watchin' the ship. Mal gets pissy."

They'd all been waiting for Mal and Zoe to get back from picking up some food supplies. The moon had been deemed too dangerous for anyone else to leave the ship. Jayne had been detailed to stand guard; Wash was on alert for fast liftoff. Everyone was tense.

"You should have closed the doors, Jayne."

"People here, if doors are closed, they just blast 'em open. This way we still got doors." Jayne looks down, then shoves a gun at him. "Start firin'."

Leaning around the other side of the crate, Simon does. Later, once Mal and Zoe are back, and the intruders are all dead or wishing it, Simon isn't even sure if he hit any of them. He isn't sure he wants to know. When did being a good shot become something he might value?

But Jayne doesn't harass him about poor performance. When Mal asks, he just grunts out that Simon "did passable, him bein' hurt and all." This, Simon thinks, is practically a declaration of love.

~ ~ ~

Simon is in the lounge on day seven, when Jayne comes in. It's late, and the others are either sleeping or on the bridge. Simon can't sleep, he goes through periods like this. Instead, he's trying to read medical files that Inara had accessed for him. Mostly it's boring reading, but sometimes he finds something fascinating.

Jayne stands and stares. Then, "You ain't wearin' a vest."

Simon's changed for bed, so he says, "No."

"You startin' to slum, dress like the rest of us?"

Simon looks at Jayne, at his ratty t-shirt and stained pants. "Not yet."

He goes back to reading, pretending to ignore Jayne watching him.

~ ~ ~

On day ten, Simon removes the bandage from his shoulder. The graze was deep, but it has scabbed nicely, and Simon coats it once again with cream to help it heal faster and minimize scarring.

Jayne walks by the open infirmary door while Simon is standing, shirt off. He turns around, retraces his steps, and walks by again, this time more slowly.

Simon ignores it, and slips his shirt back on.

Maybe he smiles slightly.

~ ~ ~

Jayne isn't really the type that Simon is interested in. He's crude, he's obnoxious, and his idea of a good time is cleaning knives with his tongue. The man has no finesse, no style, and he did try to sell River out. Simon remembers Jayne in the whorehouse - he made an effort to 'dress up nice', but he didn't make much of an effort to treat those women like people.

But - Jayne can be attractive enough to look at, especially if Simon squints. Or if he's feeling charitable. He has a good physique, and he knows how to use it, which is attractive in itself.

And Simon has to admit, when he relaxes enough, that Jayne can be amusing. In a childish, rude, appalling, tasteless, and generally non-Core way. This may not be kind of thing that Simon is used to, but it is part of his life now. And he knows that things would be easier if he could just fit into this life a little bit more.

Jayne is a risk. But out here, Simon risks everything every day.

Getting River had been a risk. Simon has learned a lot since his university days.

~ ~ ~

On day eleven, Simon stays away from the crew. He closes the door in the infirmary and works on River's files, trying to think of new chemical combinations that might help balance her out. He wishes he'd taken more neuro-psychology courses.

At dinner, he eats the protein soup that Book had flavoured with rosemary and cayenne. Jayne hands him the protein buns, and Simon doesn't make eye contact with him or anyone other than River and Kaylee.

He thinks about the last good meal he had. A good restaurant near the hospital, three courses and a server flirting with him. He'd been celebrating a minor promotion.

Afterwards, he goes to bed, still thinking.

~ ~ ~

It's day fourteen, and Jayne offers to help him with his shooting.

Simon declines. Jayne shrugs and walks off, saying that it's his funeral.

~ ~ ~

Days fifteen to eighteen centre around River, who starts a phase of screaming, nightmares, stealing, and general disruption. Mal starts making noises about throwing her off the ship again - by this time Simon knows this is mostly talk.

But it's trying anyway. River is miserable, she bites her lips and fingers so hard they bleed, she can't sleep, and she speaks complete nonsense. He begins to feel frantic, worried that this is the last time, that this time he won't be able to calm her, and she'll deteriorate to nothing more than a raving body.

And then, abruptly, it stops. She's back to playing with Kaylee, talking about physics and the universe, and generally being happy and even sweet. Mal stops scowling, Kaylee cheers up, and Zoe smiles.

"Cycles," River tells him, earnest, serious. "You can't stop them."

That night, Simon thinks about what she says.

~ ~ ~

On day nineteen, Simon wakes up, checks on River, bathes, dresses, eats breakfast, and asks Mal about their schedule. They are enroute to Persephone again, delivering something no one is willing to talk about. They've got another day before arrival. Inara will be meeting them there.

Kaylee is talking about shopping when they land. River is listening intently, offering suggestions about things to buy (dog biscuits, because they never know) and what to wear (Jayne's hat, it's going to be cold).

Jayne is in his bunk. Simon knocks.

"What?" The question is muffled through the metal of the door.

"May I come in?"

There's a long pause, and scrapes and sounds like maybe things are being put away, possibly even tidied. Finally, the door opens, and Simon takes that as an invitation. He climbs down, closing the door behind him.

Jayne's bunk is dull, almost featureless other than the wall of guns by his bunk, the piles of weapons on all available surfaces. The air is slightly stale. "You weren't joking about the guns."

Jayne shrugs. "Like 'em handy."

There's a pause, and Simon isn't really sure what to do next. Normally he would talk. But Jayne isn't much for talking. "I've been getting the feeling that you want something from me."

Again, Jayne shrugs. "I ain't decided."

Simon suddenly feels exasperated, the way he feels when River plays stubborn. He stands there, waiting.

"I don't like kissin' on the mouth."

By now they all know that. "I do."

They stare at each other for a moment, and it's hardly lustful. More like mutual annoyance, really.

Finally, Jayne sits down on the bed, and takes off his shirt. "Fine. Come on then. I ain't got all day."

Simon rolls his eyes. Who said romance is dead? "You've been hovering for weeks now." He starts to unbutton his shirt. "I thought at least you'd show a little more enthusiasm. Interest."

Jayne grins, removing his belt. "I'm interested. Yer just demandin'."

Simon stops mid-button. "Demanding."

Jayne starts undoing his boots. "Guess it's 'cause of you being Core folk, used to havin' yer way. Used to the pretty talk." With his head bent down, Jayne seems to be almost talking to himself.

"It would be nice to -"

Jayne stands up, unbuttons his pants. Simon can't look away, although he thinks perhaps he should want to back away slowly.

"I didn't tell Mal you shoot for shit, did I?"

He knew it. "I -"

Jayne smirks. "'Course, didn't have to. He knows anyway." The pants come off. Jayne chose to forgo underwear today, apparently. "Said you smelled nice."

"Right."

"So, you want it or not?"

Simon looks at Jayne, now sitting back down on the bed. He gets back to unbuttoning.

In the end, there isn't much kissing. There is some biting, some swearing, and a lot of grunting. Simon hadn't been sure what to expect; he guessed it would be good, at the very least because it had been so long since he'd been touched. Jayne, he thought, would be perfunctory, focused on the endpoint, and without finesse.

That's not quite what he gets. Jayne won't kiss on the mouth, but he gets very enthusiastic. What he lacks in style, he makes up for in determination. Simon gets mauled, Jayne's hands and mouth all over him. The first time doesn't last very long - but Simon isn't complaining.

Later, Simon shows Jayne a little bit about finesse, gets cursed at, and does a little mauling himself.

~ ~ ~

On day twenty, Simon wakes up in Jayne's bunk, carefully drags himself away, grins at the twinges in his body, and pulls on his clothes. Jayne stays asleep, open-mouthed, breathing deeply, splayed across the bed.

He leaves the bunk, checks on River, who is still sleeping, bathes, and then heads to the kitchen to start making breakfast.

It's his turn.

End




	Home Archives August 2007 Firefly Fic: Count(down) (Jayne/Simon, PG-13) [Previous entry: "Firefly Fic: What Jayne Likes (Jayne/Simon, PG)"] [Next entry: "Firefly Fic: Something (Jayne/Simon, NC-17)"] 08/03/2007: "Firefly Fic: Count(down) (Jayne/Simon, PG-13)" Title: Count(down) Pairing: Jayne/Simon Rating: PG-13 Summary: Simon has a few preferences himself. Disclaimer: Clearly I claim no ownership to the Firefly 'verse or its characters; nor am I making money from this fic writing thing. Notes: I didn't think I could do this, but I did: I wrote a sequel to What Jayne Likes Simon has always liked men. He remembers the first time he was really aware of this - fourteen years old, an introductory medical biology class, the material already interesting enough that he decided he really did want to be a doctor. He was relieved, so relieved that he would be able to please his father. His feelings for the Teacher would not have pleased his father at all. But Simon couldn't help it. When the man - Teacher Aldershot - was speaking, moving his arms, Simon's heart would race. He wouldn't quite be able to breathe - a lump formed in his throat, almost the way he remembered feeling when he was small and he was about to cry. But this was different too, excitement and shyness. Something new. Sometimes he blushed, when the Teacher asked him a question. Even at that age, he'd been cognizant enough to know that his this excitement wasn't due to the material - however fascinating - or even because he'd shared the lab table with Alissa, the prettiest (and smartest) girl in school. It was the Teacher. His broad shoulders and strong arms. The way he pronounced words with just the smallest accent, enough to identify him as not from the Core. This in itself was unusual, the school only recruiting the best of Teachers. At least, that was what they'd written in their literature. Simon had done his best to ignore the feeling; to concentrate on the material. He supposes now that it worked, since he got the highest mark, and the only recommendation in his lab class to continue in the medical-stream courses in the school. His father had been so proud. Simon had never spoken of his first real crush. Instead, he'd concentrated on school. ~ ~ ~ Of course, Simon loves medicine. Teacher Aldershot might have had a hand in helping to pique his interest, but Simon knows he could have been taught introductory medical biology by a flea-encrusted orangutan and he still would have loved it. There is something almost hypnotic about the workings of the human body. It has its own rhythms, and feedbacks, and each body has its own quirks. Simon loves the certainties of basic human biology coupled with the challenges that each individual presents. There are some cases that have been his favourites, both for these challenges, and for the people involved. He remembers the young girl, multiple fractures in her legs and pelvis; she'd been pushed from the family terrace, four stories above ground. She was lucky she wasn't one of those living on floor 112. It hadn't been his job to ask who had pushed her, to enquire about her family life. But he took one look at her medical records, as she was being prepared for surgery, and known the basic story. As she'd been recovering, attended by a hulking father, and a cowed mother, Simon had quietly arranged for her transfer out of that home. There were other favourites, for different reasons. ~ ~ ~ Simon stands by the bed, smiling his professional smile. The patient, Kyle Warner, tries to smile back. "You'll be in recovery for a long time, and you'll need physical therapy, but you will get back most of the range of movement in your arms and legs." He's exhausted, the surgery had lasted for hours. Simon should be off duty by now, but he'd wanted to wait. "You're the best, Simon. I'm glad they let you operate." He relaxes slightly. "So am I. What were you thinking, pulling that kind of stunt?" In university, Kyle had always been the one most willing to try the most dangerous games, the most outrageous things. Simon closes his eyes, remembering how he'd scoffed at Kyle and his type; people wasting their time, secure in the knowledge that their mothers or fathers would find them a job after graduation. He remembers one afternoon, Kyle cornering him after introductory epidemiology, a course full of things Simon already knew. Kyle had smiled strangely, and then he'd leaned in, boxing Simon against the wall, kissing him intently, paying more attention to Simon's mouth than he ever did to class material. Simon had stopped scoffing, and started spending less time studying, and more time with Kyle. His grades hadn't been affected. That year had been like a game. Kyle had made it fun; Simon had learned to take some risks. Kyle is speaking again, his words running into each other from exhaustion. "It seemed like fun at the time." He's talking about the accident that landed him in the hospital, but Simon is still somewhat lost in his memories. Yes. It had. He smiles, and this time, it's not professional. ~ ~ ~ Simon has never been fond of uncertainty. He supposes this is hardly unique, but some people, people like Kyle, and sometimes River, reveled in everyday unpredictability. They took the unknown and made it their playground. Simon likes a routine. He likes a clean office and workplace, he likes to know where everything is. He's prepared for emergencies, he always has been - and it's even more important on Serenity. But even then, he likes to know that he will proceed in certain ways, that he will know exactly where all the tools and medicines and supplies are. He hates it when Mal, or even worse, Jayne, comes into the infirmary and searches something out, leaving a trail of misplaced and incorrectly used supplies. He's resigned to coming to his room and finding that River has removed all of his clothes from his drawer, rearranging them on the floor and bed in a design that only makes sense to her. He expects this from River - to be a disruption in his private life, a zone of unpredictability and familiarity and love and family. She is predictable in her own way. But Simon really could do without the others playing in his infirmary. ~ ~ ~ He's arranging new supplies, searching out old and new tools, and generally alternatively cursing Jayne for messing around in here, and thanking Mal for thinking to get new medicines. Jayne has been stalking him for days, although Simon's not sure why. Maybe it harkens back to the chat they had about Ariel; maybe Jayne is planning some kind of retaliation. Simon is waiting to see, biding his time. Meanwhile, Jayne hovers. Stares. Like he's doing right now. Finally, Simon asks, "What?" There's a pause, and Jayne answers, "Nothin'." Internally, Simon sighs, and then sighs out loud when, a few minutes later, Jayne comes over to hover even closer. "What's that?" He's tempted to use technical terms, to try and bludgeon Jayne with words he won't understand. But that always seems to be more trouble than it's worth. "Emergency supplies. I like to have things so I know exactly where they are. For when I don't have time to think about it." Jayne grunts a little, and then, "I got my guns like that in my bunk. So I can grab 'em fast if there's intruders." Back still to Jayne, Simon rolls his eyes. Please, he thinks, someone spare me from Jayne trying to bond. Maybe Mal will come in, dragging a recalcitrant River who tried to spill juice on the flight controls. Or maybe Inara will come in with a routine medical question. Anything. No one comes. So instead, he can't resist making a dig about Jubal Early, shuddering a little bit at the thought of how close the bounty hunter got to taking River. Jayne takes offense, but doesn't leave. Finally, he just asks Jayne to go. "Jayne? Could you not loom over me like something with its prey?" Only, that isn't the way he'd intended it to come out. He realizes how it sounds once he's said it, how it carries undertones he doesn't want. It's just - Jayne is breathing on his neck, slow puffs of breath that surprisingly, aren't accompanied by waves of stench. Simon always assumed Jayne had questionable hygiene, but maybe - maybe it's just today. It has been a long time since a man leaned that close, breathed on him, stood so close without intending violence or uttering threats. Simon is unused to the warmth of a large body near his. He feels heat start to rise up his neck; he knows he's blushing. Jayne leans a little closer, and says, "You smell good." And then, "I gotta go." The warmth moves away, and Simon looks down at the antibiotic packages he's clutching in his hands. Carefully, he places them in their correct spot. Simon isn't stupid. Jayne is playing with him. This is unexpected. Simon has never talked to River about men, although he's sure she knows about some of his past relationships, if not all of them. Did she know what Jayne was up to? ~ ~ ~ Simon begins to count from that day on. A kind of reverse countdown, although at first he doesn't acknowledge this. On day two after the infirmary, Jayne shows up with a cut on his hand. He claims that River had startled him while he was cleaning knives in the kitchen. He doesn't blame her though, just says his grip slipped. Simon stitches him up, and says, "I thought you would have learned not to clean knives in public places after last time." Jayne just shrugs, leans close, and takes a deep breath. "Still smell good." Simon frowns. If this Jayne's idea of flirting, it leaves much to be desired. ~ ~ ~ Day four is uneventful, but Jayne kicks him twice under the dinner table. The first time he frowns. The second time, he asks, "Do you mind?" The others look up. Jayne looks confused. "What? It were an accident." Right. Simon scowls. ~ ~ ~ On day five, Jayne drags Simon behind a pile of crates, all the while firing at the intruders in the cargo bay. "Shoulda stayed upstairs." Simon is busy inspecting his shoulder. The bullet grazed him, stunning him more than anything. He's bleeding, but he can function. "I don't like bein' distracted while I'm watchin' the ship. Mal gets pissy." They'd all been waiting for Mal and Zoe to get back from picking up some food supplies. The moon had been deemed too dangerous for anyone else to leave the ship. Jayne had been detailed to stand guard; Wash was on alert for fast liftoff. Everyone was tense. "You should have closed the doors, Jayne." "People here, if doors are closed, they just blast 'em open. This way we still got doors." Jayne looks down, then shoves a gun at him. "Start firin'." Leaning around the other side of the crate, Simon does. Later, once Mal and Zoe are back, and the intruders are all dead or wishing it, Simon isn't even sure if he hit any of them. He isn't sure he wants to know. When did being a good shot become something he might value? But Jayne doesn't harass him about poor performance. When Mal asks, he just grunts out that Simon "did passable, him bein' hurt and all." This, Simon thinks, is practically a declaration of love. ~ ~ ~ Simon is in the lounge on day seven, when Jayne comes in. It's late, and the others are either sleeping or on the bridge. Simon can't sleep, he goes through periods like this. Instead, he's trying to read medical files that Inara had accessed for him. Mostly it's boring reading, but sometimes he finds something fascinating. Jayne stands and stares. Then, "You ain't wearin' a vest." Simon's changed for bed, so he says, "No." "You startin' to slum, dress like the rest of us?" Simon looks at Jayne, at his ratty t-shirt and stained pants. "Not yet." He goes back to reading, pretending to ignore Jayne watching him. ~ ~ ~ On day ten, Simon removes the bandage from his shoulder. The graze was deep, but it has scabbed nicely, and Simon coats it once again with cream to help it heal faster and minimize scarring. Jayne walks by the open infirmary door while Simon is standing, shirt off. He turns around, retraces his steps, and walks by again, this time more slowly. Simon ignores it, and slips his shirt back on. Maybe he smiles slightly. ~ ~ ~ Jayne isn't really the type that Simon is interested in. He's crude, he's obnoxious, and his idea of a good time is cleaning knives with his tongue. The man has no finesse, no style, and he did try to sell River out. Simon remembers Jayne in the whorehouse - he made an effort to 'dress up nice', but he didn't make much of an effort to treat those women like people. But - Jayne can be attractive enough to look at, especially if Simon squints. Or if he's feeling charitable. He has a good physique, and he knows how to use it, which is attractive in itself. And Simon has to admit, when he relaxes enough, that Jayne can be amusing. In a childish, rude, appalling, tasteless, and generally non-Core way. This may not be kind of thing that Simon is used to, but it is part of his life now. And he knows that things would be easier if he could just fit into this life a little bit more. Jayne is a risk. But out here, Simon risks everything every day. Getting River had been a risk. Simon has learned a lot since his university days. ~ ~ ~ On day eleven, Simon stays away from the crew. He closes the door in the infirmary and works on River's files, trying to think of new chemical combinations that might help balance her out. He wishes he'd taken more neuro-psychology courses. At dinner, he eats the protein soup that Book had flavoured with rosemary and cayenne. Jayne hands him the protein buns, and Simon doesn't make eye contact with him or anyone other than River and Kaylee. He thinks about the last good meal he had. A good restaurant near the hospital, three courses and a server flirting with him. He'd been celebrating a minor promotion. Afterwards, he goes to bed, still thinking. ~ ~ ~ It's day fourteen, and Jayne offers to help him with his shooting. Simon declines. Jayne shrugs and walks off, saying that it's his funeral. ~ ~ ~ Days fifteen to eighteen centre around River, who starts a phase of screaming, nightmares, stealing, and general disruption. Mal starts making noises about throwing her off the ship again - by this time Simon knows this is mostly talk. But it's trying anyway. River is miserable, she bites her lips and fingers so hard they bleed, she can't sleep, and she speaks complete nonsense. He begins to feel frantic, worried that this is the last time, that this time he won't be able to calm her, and she'll deteriorate to nothing more than a raving body. And then, abruptly, it stops. She's back to playing with Kaylee, talking about physics and the universe, and generally being happy and even sweet. Mal stops scowling, Kaylee cheers up, and Zoe smiles. "Cycles," River tells him, earnest, serious. "You can't stop them." That night, Simon thinks about what she says. ~ ~ ~ On day nineteen, Simon wakes up, checks on River, bathes, dresses, eats breakfast, and asks Mal about their schedule. They are enroute to Persephone again, delivering something no one is willing to talk about. They've got another day before arrival. Inara will be meeting them there. Kaylee is talking about shopping when they land. River is listening intently, offering suggestions about things to buy (dog biscuits, because they never know) and what to wear (Jayne's hat, it's going to be cold). Jayne is in his bunk. Simon knocks. "What?" The question is muffled through the metal of the door. "May I come in?" There's a long pause, and scrapes and sounds like maybe things are being put away, possibly even tidied. Finally, the door opens, and Simon takes that as an invitation. He climbs down, closing the door behind him. Jayne's bunk is dull, almost featureless other than the wall of guns by his bunk, the piles of weapons on all available surfaces. The air is slightly stale. "You weren't joking about the guns." Jayne shrugs. "Like 'em handy." There's a pause, and Simon isn't really sure what to do next. Normally he would talk. But Jayne isn't much for talking. "I've been getting the feeling that you want something from me." Again, Jayne shrugs. "I ain't decided." Simon suddenly feels exasperated, the way he feels when River plays stubborn. He stands there, waiting. "I don't like kissin' on the mouth." By now they all know that. "I do." They stare at each other for a moment, and it's hardly lustful. More like mutual annoyance, really. Finally, Jayne sits down on the bed, and takes off his shirt. "Fine. Come on then. I ain't got all day." Simon rolls his eyes. Who said romance is dead? "You've been hovering for weeks now." He starts to unbutton his shirt. "I thought at least you'd show a little more enthusiasm. Interest." Jayne grins, removing his belt. "I'm interested. Yer just demandin'." Simon stops mid-button. "Demanding." Jayne starts undoing his boots. "Guess it's 'cause of you being Core folk, used to havin' yer way. Used to the pretty talk." With his head bent down, Jayne seems to be almost talking to himself. "It would be nice to -" Jayne stands up, unbuttons his pants. Simon can't look away, although he thinks perhaps he should want to back away slowly. "I didn't tell Mal you shoot for shit, did I?" He knew it. "I -" Jayne smirks. "'Course, didn't have to. He knows anyway." The pants come off. Jayne chose to forgo underwear today, apparently. "Said you smelled nice." "Right." "So, you want it or not?" Simon looks at Jayne, now sitting back down on the bed. He gets back to unbuttoning. In the end, there isn't much kissing. There is some biting, some swearing, and a lot of grunting. Simon hadn't been sure what to expect; he guessed it would be good, at the very least because it had been so long since he'd been touched. Jayne, he thought, would be perfunctory, focused on the endpoint, and without finesse. That's not quite what he gets. Jayne won't kiss on the mouth, but he gets very enthusiastic. What he lacks in style, he makes up for in determination. Simon gets mauled, Jayne's hands and mouth all over him. The first time doesn't last very long - but Simon isn't complaining. Later, Simon shows Jayne a little bit about finesse, gets cursed at, and does a little mauling himself. ~ ~ ~ On day twenty, Simon wakes up in Jayne's bunk, carefully drags himself away, grins at the twinges in his body, and pulls on his clothes. Jayne stays asleep, open-mouthed, breathing deeply, splayed across the bed. He leaves the bunk, checks on River, who is still sleeping, bathes, and then heads to the kitchen to start making breakfast. It's his turn. End