Kassie got a BA in inventing subtext. (amor_remanet) wrote in jayne_simon,
Kassie got a BA in inventing subtext.
amor_remanet
jayne_simon

Title: Zodiac
Rating: At present, PG-13
Characters/Pairing: Jayne/Simon
Summary: "Want. Take. Have. Simple philosophy, one a little too basic, even for him, but the doctor makes that little bit of Jayne come out."
Spoilers: None, unless you really count Jayne trashing the infirmary in the beginning of "Jaynestown."
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were, but, they're not.
Notes: WIP being written for zodiac_fanfic. Note the incredibly original title.
Feedback: Is love.


Aires
The Ram, Fire. Keywords: Aggressive, impatient.

Jayne doesn’t like it at first when Zoe tells him that he and the Doctor are setting up for and cleaning up after supper together. He groans, complains, and bitches his gorram heart out, but the warrior woman remains resolute… it’s all “captain’s orders” this, and “Simon’s not so bad, really” that, and “gorram it, Jayne, you’re working with Simon.” Women. At least Wash is the one who has to hit that whenever his flying gets her in the mood. Jayne quietly suspects that he’d kill himself before fucking her.

He also doesn’t like when working with the Doctor proves to not be so bad. Boy mostly keeps to himself, leaving Shepherd to tend the actual food and setting out plates and whatnot. Sticking that pretty mouth of his out in a way that just demands to be stared at same way as a Reaver does. Well not exactly the same, but… pretty damn close. Maybe more like the reality of Reavers than the actual thing. It’s just there, jutting out from the rest of his face, and it’s stark and demanding and, if it takes a punch to make it quit being so pretty, then Jayne’ll deliver. It’ll keep him from looking at it anyway, which’ll keep Zoe from telling him to get to work.

After supper, clean up goes easily, and Jayne is glad to have something to stare at other than that gorram pretty mouth. This doesn’t last long, though. While he’s trying to clean up the last bits of food, he keeps looking over at the Doctor as he works on the rest of the dishes. Is he aware that his pants leave just enough up to Jayne’s imagination to be dangerous? Or that every time he shifts his weight, Jayne has to check to make sure there’s no stray Mals or Kaylees or Rivers around to make things complicated. Especially no Rivers.

Finally, he’s sure no one’s there and he can’t ruttin’ take it no more. The Doctor sets the last plate in the stack, puts the stack away, and surveys the clean kitchen; Jayne turns the boy around with one hand and kisses him full on that gorram pretty mouth. Must be pretty intimidating, being that the only form of protest is a muffled whinin’ sound and two arms that come between them, but the whinin’s tolerable and the arms ain’t much too worry about. He ain’t completely helpless, but they’re small an’ they bend easily. Just to show the Doctor who’s boss here, Jayne shoves him into the counter, kissing him with increased ferocity. His head knocks into the cupboard, which makes him grunt or somethin’, which, in turn, makes Jayne start feeling around past his clothes. Smooth skin – nothin’ outta the ordinary, and, with a free hand, Jayne shoves one arm down.

“Gorram it, boy,” he growls. “That mouth o’ yours ain’t the only thing ‘o yers that’s pretty, is it?”


Taurus
The Bull, Earth. Keywords: Persistent, greedy.

Pacing’s not such a fun activity, and he can think of more, better things to do, but somethin’s gotta be done about this sorry ass situation a’fore it gets outta control. Probably already has, given last night and, bein’ that Jayne can’t solve this in his usual fashion, with bullets and whatnot, he’ll just have to take care of it in the best way that presents itself. He cocks a hip out, leaning against the door to the infirmary… not a sight o’ that gorram boy anywhere.

He huffs and ambles in, past all the painfully neatly arranged medical supplies and the doctor’s other such knick-knackery… so gorram organized in all these little gorram piles. What in the hell is wrong with that boy? Snorting, Jayne runs the back of his hand down one of the smooth, metal surfaces, this one to a case of bandages or some shit. Doesn’t know why he’s bein’ delicate with it, seein’ as it can’t feel nothin’ and probably wouldn’t deserve his gentleness, even if it could. Good thing it can’t. Bein’ somethin’ of the doctor’s, Jayne’s pretty damn sure he’d not be too gentle with it if it could feel…

Without so much as a thought to the contrary, he smacks the thing and sends it flying into the floor. He knocks over a bunch of straight, well kept, apple-pie order scalpels and knives. Never really understood why them doctors use the things – precise, sure, but, too effective to not have force behind them, and doctors never have it.

He hits another thing, doesn’t care what it is, all that matters is the right terrified sound of footfalls rushin’ to the infirmary like some scared kid or somesuch.

Oh my…”

Win. Jayne’s win.

What are you doing?”
“Zoe sent me up here, t’look for somethin’.”
“Didn’t we go over this the last time you tried to tear apart my infirmary?”

Lies roll off to the doctor like easiness. And he clearly doesn’t believe ‘em, he shouldn’t anyway, but it doesn’t matter as Jayne turns to look at him – …no, not nearly riled up ‘nuff yet. Little bit messed up, few hairs outta place and not lookin’ so high-tone and fine-done like usual, but ain’t nothin’ can’t be fixed.

“Excuse me? Are you even paying attention to me, or am I just in the way of your systematic destruction of everything orderly? …Why do I even bother? You’re not listening, you never…”

The boy fumes as he rushes in to clean up the mess; Jayne grabs him by the collar and whips him around. Want. Take. Have. Simple philosophy, one a little too basic, even for him, but the doctor makes that little bit of Jayne come out.

“You’d be that somethin’.”
“What did… I just saw Zoe-”
“Boy, you are a ruttin’ bad liar, so I’d say you’d best cut that out.”
“Then you… if you wanted to see me, you didn’t need an excuse…”
“Fer this, I think I did.”
“What?”

What can he say? He ain’t nothin’ if not stubborn, and he marks his territory with his lips.
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