Plain Kate (kitsunesan) wrote in jayne_simon,
Plain Kate

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First (real) post.

This isn't technically finished as of yet, but it is starting to get rather long, and this seemed like a good place to section it off. This is a rarity for me, not just getting something done enough to actually post, but also a vague attempt at, if not plot, at least characterization. And I haven't even gotten to the smut yet! But the smut will follow, I promise.

Title: How Noble in Reason
Pairing: Obsessed and Mentally Off-kilter!Simon/Agitated and Begrudgingly Repentant!Jayne
Rating: PG-13 or so for language and vague euphamisms
Word Count: About 5500 so far. @_@
Waringings: None, 'cept for maybe that I took the liberty of making Simon a musical theatre fan. But he has enough OGT's that I figure one more isn't such a stretch.
Disclaimer: Not mine, though if they were, I would take shiny good care of them.

And now, on to the fic! C&C's always welcome. <3

Simon Tam is very smart.

Unfortunately, it is that abundance of intelligence that makes it difficult for him to ever assess his situation accurately. It’s so easy to over-analyze, to pick at a problem, to systematically break it down and rationalize it from every angle until, finally broken, it molds itself into what he wanted to see there in the first place.

He though he knew what going mad felt like that day on Canton, the Jayne statue staring eerily at him from up on its clay pedestal.

He was wrong.

He amended that thought when they were at the underground bar, and that folk singer struck up a chord and started singing.

He was wrong then, too.

* * *

Simon knew from the moment he joined Serenity’s crew that Jayne Cobb would be a problem. The others he trusted, as much as he could, but he didn’t have to be gifted to see that Jayne was a man who was just looking for the opportunity to betray him. It was simply a matter of time. And as he waited, Simon watched him wait.

After a month or so, he had Jayne’s daily routine calculated almost down to the minute. He thought he may know the man better than he knew himself. Certainly, there wasn’t much to know. Simon had long since memorized Jayne; every look, every mood, every hard curve of muscle was as well known to him as the well-worn medical texts he still flipped through from time to time. It was sometime later, while he was watching Jayne work out from safe anonymity outside the door, that he wondered if that might be somewhat strange.

When the Captain and Zoe got held up during the train job, Jayne had predictably tried to take over command. Fortunately, he’d been wounded and it was only too easy for Simon to dope him, rendering all his blustery threats ineffective.

Simon’s feelings of mistrust and unease (and that something else; what was it?) continued, until Canton. When that boy jumped in front of that shotgun blast, something seemed to snap just behind Jayne’s eyes. The doctor watched with a fascination bordering on horror as he wheeled around and raged at the gaping crowd with a voice that sounded like he’d been chewing broken glass. Simon realized he was afraid that Jayne was on the verge of tears.

Could Jayne cry?

Physiologically, of course the answer was yes. There was nothing wrong with his tear ducts that would prevent him from being able to shed tears. But crying was more than just physical capability; it took a certain depth of emotion that Simon didn’t think Jayne capable of feeling.

Until Canton.

* * *

And then, Ariel.

It had started out so well; the perfect opportunity to satisfy the crew with money in their pockets and find a way to properly diagnose River. He could have used some more time at the diagnostics machine, but he got what he really needed and they left.

And then the feds.

For a moment Simon was certain that it was Jayne; that he had finally turned them in. But then Jayne was in handcuffs too, and Simon was forced to admit to himself that he had been wrong. When the opportunity arose, Jayne fought off the guards with his characteristic rough ease, and with Simon’s help, they’d managed to get enough distance between them and their pursuit.

If Simon had really thought about it, he would have realized that it was Jayne’s previously unannounced change of plans that set them walking right into the hands of the feds. But Simon didn’t want to think that way. He was tired, tired of always running, tired of being afraid, afraid that they would be caught, afraid that River would only get worse instead of better. He wanted to believe that he was in safe hands, all of their safe hands, and so he believed that Jayne’s arrest was a sure sign of his innocence.

But you know that if he had turned you in, the Alliance would have turned on him just as quickly. Just because he ended up in the same position as you doesn’t mean that he wasn’t guilty. It only means that he was stupid.

But Simon didn’t listen to that part of his brain. That part always said things that he didn’t want to hear. It made things more complicated. So he turned his thoughts in another direction, deconstructing the events and rearranging them until they pointed to the conclusion that Jayne was somehow trustworthy. Perhaps the events on Canton really had changed him. After all, Jayne was human, despite appearances, and no human being could be as one-dimensional as Jayne tried to make himself seem.

When the door was shot open from the other side and Simon’s eyes fell on Mal’s improbable but extremely welcome form, he felt his knees go weak with relief. By the time they got back to the ship, he was nearly hysterical with it. Kaylee asked how Jayne had been hurt, and he started babbling. “It was a sonic rifle. He was amazing. I can’t begin to tell you…we wouldn’t be standing here if it weren’t for him.” He turned to Jayne, his eyes swimming with gratitude. “Thank you.”

Jayne just looked uncomfortable. But then, Jayne almost always looks uncomfortable, particularly when he isn’t heavily armed, Simon rationalized.

* * *

“It’s Jayne being so generous with his cut that confuses and frightens me.” Wash shook his head.

“It does kind of freeze the blood.” Zoe paused, then continued cutting her apple into slices and eating it.

Had Simon been there to hear Wash’s observation, it might have set him thinking down a slightly different path. But Simon wasn’t there, and he kept on thinking of Jayne as River’s and his unlikely hero. By now he had entirely quieted the part of his mind that kept pointing out signs of the man’s culpability. Simon just steadfastly refused to think about it. And when the captain and Wash were grabbed by Niska, he didn’t have time to think.

That’s why it came as such a shock to him, sometime later, when River said that Jayne was afraid.

“Afraid? Since when?”

“Since Ariel. Afraid we’ll know.”

All of Simon’s carefully hidden doubts came flooding back at her words. He knew by now to trust his sister’s ability to read people, and he knew just what she meant. In a fit of anger, he stood up with a jolt and knocked a row of books off of their shelf. For the first time since his father’s refusal to believe him about River’s situation, Simon saw red. It felt good to break things. He was furious. River ran out of the room, afraid that he was angry with her. But it wasn’t River that he was angry at. It wasn’t even Jayne. After all, he’d expected treachery from Jayne. It was himself he was angry at, for knowing, but not allowing himself to know. He was laughing, but it was an unsettling, hysterical kind of laughter that quickly dissolved into tears.

Now this, he thought, is what going mad must feel like.

This time, he was rather closer to being right.

* * *

When Jayne woke up, he was in the infirmary, and Simon was standing over him, straight-faced and cool. There was a distant sort of look in his eyes that Jayne didn’t like. He decided that the best thing to do was to ignore it in the hopes that it would go away.

“Wah guwwunoh?” Though rather ineloquent, it was the closest thing to a question his frazzled brain could produce. That was fine, though. Simon seemed to understand.

“You got knocked out.” His voice was quiet and calm. It made Jayne’s stomach do a slow roll. He decided to ignore that too.

“Dih we gedda payoff? Dih we make the money?” Simon didn’t seem to hear him.

“Can you move your arms and legs?” His voice was icy, and his words hung in the air, refusing to dissipate because of their coldness. Jayne tried to raise one of his arms. It wouldn’t obey him. Sharp needles of panic started pricking at his skin and he commanded his body to move again, with the same result.

“Dah nod movin’!”

“Do you want to know why?” He turned towards Jayne, an eerie calm on his face. “Your spine. You hit it pretty hard when you fell.”

“Spine?” Jayne gulped. He was starting to sweat.

“Yes.” There was that cold, hard look again. Thankfully, this time it softened, though that softness was almost imperceptible. “So I gave you something to knock out your motor functions so you wouldn’t wrench it when you came to. Should wear off in half an hour. You'll just be bruised.”

“Spine okay?” Again, Simon didn’t seem to hear him.

“How much did they offer you to sell me and River on Ariel?”

Jayne stiffened. “Das crazy talk.”

“Then let's talk crazy. How much?”

True panic beginning to set in, Jayne craned his neck around to see if there was anyone who could help him get out of this increasingly distressing situation. “Is anybody there?”

River leaned in from the doorway and looked at him serenely. Jayne gulped again.

“Anybody else?”

Simon’s voice was the only one that answered.

“You’re in a dangerous line of work, Jayne. Odds are, you'll be under my knife again. Often. So I want you to understand one thing very clearly.” He paused then, seeming to search for something in Jayne’s eyes. His eyes are blue, Jayne thought. I always thought they were hazel. Whether or not he’d found what he was looking for, Simon continued.

“ No matter what you do, or say, or plot... no matter how you come down on us I will never, ever harm you. You’re on this table, you’re safe. I’m your medic, and however little we may like or trust each other, we’re on the same crew. Got the same troubles, same enemies, and more than enough of both. Now we could circle each other and growl, both sleep with one eye open, but that thought wearies me. I don't care what you've done. I don't know what you're planning on doing. But I’m trusting you. I think you should do the same, ’cause I don't see this working any other way.”

His hand trailed along Jayne’s jawbone almost reverently as he regarded the big man lying prostrate on the table. Jayne, for once, was speechless. Simon lingered for a moment, as though there was still something left for him to say. Then, abruptly, he was gone, leaving a feeling on Jayne’s cheek like a soft wind had come and gone. Jayne blinked.

River's head popped back in through the doorway. “Also, I can kill you with my brain.”

Jayne let his head fall back against the table with a grunt and fell into a listless, troubled sleep.

* * *

Simon was sitting on his bed, a medical textbook open in his lap that he wasn’t reading. River was off somewhere with Shepherd Book, the preacher’s scary, wild hair having been all but forgotten. Simon was staring off into space, still trying to calm down from his encounter with Jayne in the med lab, when he heard a knock on his door.

“Go away.” He didn’t care who it was. He was in no mood for guests. When the door opened anyway, it almost didn’t surprise him to see Jayne standing behind it, shifting his weight awkwardly. No one else (well, maybe Mal) would have come barging in like that. He was only shocked that the man had bothered to knock at all.

“That’s funny; I thought I said ‘go away,’ not ‘please come in’.” His eyes were trained carefully on the textbook that he wasn’t reading. Jayne just shrugged and sat down uninvited on the edge of Simon’s bed.

“Lissen Doc, it’s just that, I got somethin’ to say, and you been hidin’ out in here all gorram evenin’.”

“I haven’t been hiding, I’ve been reading. You do know what that is, don’t you? Reading, I mean? And again, I don’t believe that I ever invited you into my bed.”

ON to! ON to my bed, not INTO my bed! Simon’s brain screamed, but he shook his head against the sound. It was a simple error, not the Freudian slip that small part of his mind seemed to take it to be. He continued staring pointedly at his textbook, doubting that Jayne would know the difference anyway. As it so happened, he was absolutely right.

“Come on now, I’m tryin’ to be decent here, and that ain’t somethin’ that I get the urge to do often, so couldja just gimme a little help here?”

“Help with what, Jayne?” Simon snapped, losing his patience. “What’s so gorram important that it can’t possibly wait until tomorrow?”

Stunned to hear even a mild swear from the usually prim Doctor’s lips, it took Jayne a minute to recover himself enough to go on with his self-appointed task. He cleared his throat and went on. “I just…” He sighed. “I wanted to… ‘poligize… t’you…” His voice lowered to an inaudible mutter at the last.

“Huh?” Forgetting his careful composure as Jayne trailed off, Simon looked up at just the right moment for their eyes to meet. His eyes are blue, Simon thought. I always thought they were hazel.

“I always thought they were hazel.”

“Ya thought what now?” This time it was Jayne’s turn to be confused.

Simon realized too late that he’d said that last part out loud. He shook it off with an aggravated shrug. “What do you mean ‘what’? You’re the one who was muttering.”

Jayne actually looked down at that. “I s’pose that’s so. What I meant to say was, I just wanted to apologize. You know, for what I did. On Ariel.”

Now that was just great. Simon couldn’t believe what he was hearing, didn’t want to be hearing it. There was a note of real remorse in the man’s voice that Simon just didn’t think him capable of faking. He sighed.

“I already said that I forgive you, Jayne.”

“That ain’t true. You said you didn’t care. You said that you’d trust me. But you never said that you forgive me.”

“Well I do. Okay?”

They sat looking at each other like that for a while, each one looking like he had something more to say, but was unable to say it. After an indeterminable amount of time, Jayne cleared his throat again.

“Well all right then.” With that, he got up and walked away.

After the sound of Jayne’s footsteps thudding in the hallway faded away, Simon tossed his unread book aside and fell back against his pillows with a sigh. He was edgy and agitated. There was no way he was going to get any sleep like that. Unless...

In an attempt to relieve some of the tension, his hand slid idly down his belly and into his pants, his fingers brushing lightly at the flesh they found there. He settled deeper into the bed, a pleasant rumble sounding in his throat at the feel of his soft, surgeon’s hand against sensitive skin. Seemingly out of nowhere, he imagined a rough, calloused hand in its place. The sudden shock of revulsion that he felt at the unbidden thought not only spoiled the mood; it disturbed him deeply. He turned off the light, rolled over onto his side, and tried unsuccessfully to get some sleep.

* * *

They avoided each other after that. At meal times, they’d sit on opposite ends of the table. More often than not, Jayne would grab his plate and walk off in a huff for no reason that the rest of the crew could divine. If Simon seemed more quiet than usual, it was certainly just because he was concerned about River. None of them thought that anything was amiss.

Jayne, however, thought that something was definitely amiss. He couldn’t stop thinking about that gorram doctor, and he couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t stop thinking about him, and he was starting to wonder if maybe he’d been out in space for just a little too long. He was feeling stir-crazy and restless, and hornier even than usual, which was perhaps the most disturbing thing of all. This is what goin’ mad must feel like, he thought, unconsciously echoing Simon’s own feelings. He was irritated and itching for a fight, but at the same time lethargic and completely uninterested in what was going on around him. This was the state he was in when Mal called the crew up to tell them that one of Inara’s friends, Nandi, needed their help.

“Don't much see the benefit in getting involved in strangers’ troubles without a upfront price negotiated,” he grumbled.

Book shook his head at Jayne. “These people need assistance. The benefit wouldn’t necessarily be for you.”

“’S what I'm sayin’.” He settled back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest.

“No one’s gonna force you to go, Jayne,” Zoe said simply. “As has been stated, this job’s strictly speculative.”

“Good, ’cause I don't know these folks. Don't much care to.”

Mal lifted an eyebrow in Jayne’s direction. “They're whores.”

“I'm in.”

As whoring was one of Jayne’s favorite past times, no one questioned his motives for jumping so quickly on board. Simon rolled his eyes in what his rational brain insisted was disgust and walked back to his room. Mal and Zoe looked at Simon, looked at each other, and shrugged.

“Wash, plot a course.”

“Aye aye, Cap’n.”

* * *

The whore Jayne chose had strikingly blue eyes and a strong, proud jaw line. He tried, with surprising success, not to think of just who those features reminded him of while they were fooling around in bed. Contrary to his usual roughness (and to the assumptions of many), Jayne was a playful lover. He and his temporary bedmate were laughing easily as they pawed at each other and rolled around on the sheets. Before long, the girl’s blue eyes (clear blue, like…) were glimmering with lust, and she crawled down Jayne’s body, until she was…

…Ai ya, that warm, wet heat. Jayne leaned back, twining his fingers in the girl’s long hair, soaking up that delicious feeling. His other hand came to rest on that strong jaw line and, emotionally unguarded in his present state, his breath came out in a hiss that sounded suspiciously like, “Sssssi…”

Eyes snapping open, Jayne’s body first went rigid, then started to shake, as though in fear of what he’d almost said. His face looked deathly pale.

The girl looked up at him, her blue eyes full of concern, and drew back enough to ask, “You okay honey?” Jayne forced a grin.

“’M fine darlin’. You just keep doin’ what you’re doin’.” His body, well used to this sort of thing, went about its business with no further prompting. But, for the moment at least, his heart wasn’t in it.

* * *

The events at the Heart of Gold put everyone on the ship in an off-kilter mood, so Jayne and Simon weren’t the only ones hiding in their bunks from the rest of the world. River was the only one who seemed unaffected, and she was spending more and more of her time with Kaylee. Simon didn’t mind. He was less and less in the mood to deal with her deteriorating condition. Between that and the other thing he was trying pointedly not to think about, he spent most of his time sleeping when his skills weren’t needed elsewhere.

Today, though, sleep just wouldn’t find him, so he had to find another way to occupy is treacherous mind. He rifled through his things until he found what he was looking for- a small electronic device he’d thought to take from home that held all of his favorite music. Of all the tattered remnants of Earth-That-Was, Simon’s favorite thing was music, in general, and musical theatre in specific. He set it to play Pippin, one of his favorites, and settled back into bed, hoping that the music would help him get some sleep, despite the fact that it was essentially only one in the afternoon.

The music had its desired effect, and Simon dozed for a while. His light sleep was troubled with dreams that made him feel both excited and terribly uneasy. He chose not to remember them upon waking.

He awoke, eyes bleary, to the pleasing sound of Jill Clayburgh’s smooth voice. Simon chuckled, rolling over to face the music player. He loved this song. Catherine was singing a tribute to Pippin, but instead of singing his praises, she sang his faults. Sleepy and feeling almost good for the first time in months, Simon hummed along.

Some days, he wouldn’t say a pleasant word all day/Some days, he’d scowl and curse/But there were other days/When he was really...even worse.

That reminded him of someone. No matter. The song continued on.

Some men are heroes/Some men outshine the sun/Some men are simple, good men/This man wasn’t one.

Simon sat up in a flash, his body gone rigid. He knew who the song reminded him of now. He shook his head violently, as though he could shake the thoughts right out of it, but he only succeeded in making himself dizzy.

But please, don’t get me wrong-/He was the best to come along/In a long, long while.

And as simply as that, it came to him. There was no great flood of inspiration, no flash of lightning accompanying this new revelation. It was simple, like flicking on a light switch, and just like that he knew. He knew what that something else was that he felt when he thought about Jayne.

“Ai ya, huai le! Tian a, wo wan le…”*

And Simon started to laugh, high-pitched and humorless. It was the same laugh as that day when River let slip about Jayne’s hand in the events on Ariel, only this time, it didn’t want to stop. Simon just laughed and laughed, tears that should have been tears of mirth, but weren’t, streaming down his cheeks. He couldn’t breathe. Finally, the laughter trickled down to a series of undignified giggles that left him gasping.

Now this, this is definitely what madness feels like.

And in that moment, he was exactly right.

* * *

Some hours later, strengthened by the belief that his life couldn’t possibly be made any worse, Simon steeled himself and walked towards Jayne’s bunk. He had no idea what he intended to say; he just felt that he needed to at least talk to the man. Because there was something about the way Jayne had been acting lately that bothered him, and he was tired of being bothered by things all the time. By the time he reached the door, his resolve had weakened somewhat, and he had that distinct feeling of nervous unease that always made him queasy. What was he doing here, anyway? What else could he expect from Jayne other than his continued disdain? For that matter, what else could he want to expect? Unfortunately for Simon, while he was asking himself these questions, his hand had already taken it upon itself to start knocking.

Jayne’s voice sounded muffled and tinny from behind the door. “Whoever it is can go the ruttin’ hell away. I ain’t in no mood.”

The familiar irony of the situation made Simon feel slightly giddy, and he tried the door, hoping to find it open. He wasn’t disappointed. He pulled up the hatch and climbed down the ladder, half expecting to get a knife thrown at him and not caring if he did. Instead, Jayne just eyed him sardonically from his position on the bed.

“That’s funny; I believe I said, ‘go the ruttin’ hell away,’ not ‘please come in’.”

“Yeah, it’s downright hi-larious,” Simon drawled, stressing Jayne’s erroneous pronunciation. He crossed the short distance between them and sat on the edge of the bed.

“I don’t believe I invited ya inta my bed either.” His eyes (how could I never have noticed how blue they are?) were narrowed, but there was something in them that wasn’t quite anger. This time, Simon was painfully aware of the improper use of the phrase.

“Regardless, I need to talk to you, and you’ve been avoiding me.” The accusatory note in his voice was purposeful- an attempt to hide the note of disappointment.

“Aw hell Doc, I ain’t been avoidin’ you. You’re the one’s been avoidin’ everyone lately. I just fig’red I’d do the polite thing an’ make m’self scarce. You know, make the avoidin’ easier for ya.”

Simon nodded, not really seeming to hear. Then his eyes snapped back into focus as Jayne’s words sank in. “Wait, you were trying to be polite? Since when have you ever exercised even a modicum of politeness?”

Jayne shrugged; an impressive gesture considering that his arms were resting folded behind his head. “I dunno. Guess I learned it from watching you.” Simon was forced once again to laugh at the irony of their circumstances. It seemed that for as long as he’d been watching Jayne, he’d been completely unaware of Jayne watching him. “So anyway Doc, what is it ya wanted ta talk ta me about?”

“Huh?” Blinking in confusion, his thoughts elsewhere, Simon had completely forgotten that he was the one who’s initiated this particular encounter.

“You said you came bargin’ in here ’cause you needed ta talk ta me. So, what about?”

“I… don’t remember.” He sighed. “I can assure you though, whatever it was, it seemed important at the time.”

“I’m sure it was, at that, but as long as ya can’t remember, couldja get out then? Please,” he added, almost as an afterthought. Simon’s eyes narrowed.

“You know, for a man who’s not avoiding me, you sure seem anxious for me to leave.”

“All them smarts and ya just figured that out? Wow, Doc, you sure are gifted.” Simon rolled his eyes.

”Really, though, if things are okay between us, why are you so eager to get rid of me?”

Jayne chewed on his lip, his eyes flitting off to the left, and it took a moment for Simon to realize that the man was thinking. Hard. That…actually looks quite painful... He was shaken from his reverie by an inarticulate growl. Jayne sat bolt upright, clenching and unclenching his fists.

“Ya see?!” he all but shouted, exasperation painted all over his face. “That’s exactly it! I just… I can’t rightly seem to think when you’re around, an’ it’s gorram frustratin’, ya know? Not ta be able to say what yer thinking, and not bein’ able to think about what you say?” He gave up after that, falling roughly back against the pillows. The look of exasperation was replaced with one of defeat. It was actually sort of poetic, for Jayne anyway, and Simon felt his expression soften. Unthinking, he reached out and laid a hand on the man’s cheek, just as he had that day in the med lab. Jayne looked uncomfortable.

“Doc, yer touchin’ me…”

Simon seemed almost surprised to find that this was in fact the case. “Why, so I am.” His hand had acted without his consent again. It’d been disobeying him a lot lately, but he couldn’t be bothered to care at the moment. Nor did he move to correct the situation.

“Uh, Doc? Yer still touchin’ me…”

“I have a name, you know.” His voice was quiet and serene.

There was that agitated look again, but this time it was mixed with something that looked suspiciously like shame. “Yeah, I know it.” But the ghostly memory of his almost-words back at the Heart of Gold wouldn’t let him say it. “And anyway, that don’t change the fact that you’re still touchin’ me.”

Jayne looked flustered. His face was turning red. And it dawned on Simon, as quickly and as non-descriptly as his last revelation, just what that something else was that he saw when Jayne looked at him. His face twisted into a grin of triumph.

“I knew it! I knew it! You have been avoiding me, and that’s exactly why!”

Jayne meant to say, “What’s why?” but it came out in an indiscernible mumble, because all of a sudden Simon’s tongue was in his mouth, and it was rather hard to talk that way.

Rough hands gripped Simon’s shoulders and shoved him violently away. He stumbled backwards from the force of the throw, falling in an unceremonious heap on the floor. Jayne was livid.

“Just what in the nine hells do you think you’re doin’ boy?” His face had turned an ugly, sanguine shade. Simon laughed. It seemed the best way to cling to his last remaining shred of sanity.

“I believe I was kissing you,” he sniggered, trying unsuccessfully to hide his laughter behind his hand. “And I’d like to do it again, I think, even if you do taste like cigars. Do you mind?”

“D-damn right I mind! I think you should get the hell outta here before I decide which one of my weapons I wanna sully by killin’ yer scrawny ass.”

Still sitting in a pile on the floor, Simon pretended to consider the threat, then shook his head. “No, I don’t think I will. If you want me out of here, you’ll have to either kill me, or remove me yourself.”

“Fine! Have it your way then!” He lunged for Simon, winding up on the floor as well in the process. That was exactly the opportunity that Simon was looking for. He slipped nimbly from underneath the bigger man and managed to get him flipped over. Before Jayne had a chance to move, Simon was straddling him, using his leverage to keep him pinned to the floor.

“There. Now that that’s done, I think it’s time we had a little chat.”

“Get off me you feng le guai dan*!” Jayne struggled, but couldn’t seem to get free.

“Chu fei wo si le*! I’ve got you’re undivided attention and I plan on taking thorough advantage of that. Now, I want you to tell me why it is that your mouth says ‘oh no’ but your eyes and your body say ‘oh yes’.” As if to illustrate his point, he rocked his hips back against the obvious erection that their little tussle had left Jayne with.

Jayne managed to keep that indignant look plastered to his face, despite the precariousness of his position. He looked up at Simon like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Fair enough, really, considering that he in fact couldn’t. “You’re out of your gorram mind.”

“That is quite likely true, although it is not an answer to my question. I’ve noticed you noticing me. I’m obviously willing, or I wouldn’t have tackled you. So what’s the problem?” Since Jayne was no longer struggling, Simon let go of the chair he’d been gripping for leverage and traced his fingers along the merc’s lightly stubbled cheek, a look of utter fascination on his face.

Undignifying as it was, Jayne melted at that touch. “Ta ma de*, Simon, now that ain’t fair!”

“Is that an offer? Maybe I will,” he chuckled, his grin growing wider as Jayne flinched at his words. Then abruptly, the grin fell off his face completely, replaced by a considerably softer expression. “Hey, you called me Simon.”

“Can’t hold a man accountable for things he says when he’s in a position like this,” Jayne muttered.

“No, I suppose not.” His hand had trailed down Jayne’s neck and was now idly stroking along the smooth length of his collar bones. “So, are we still pretending that you don’t like this, or can I kiss you again?”

Jayne’s mind had already long since gone fuzzy with lust, and it was getting harder and harder for him to tell himself that this was creepifyin’ and wrong, and not what he wanted. All the scary implications of what it might mean if he did want it seemed to fade farther and farther away, along with his (albeit limited) capacity for rational thought. Nah, I was wrong before. This is what goin’ mad feels like. And in that moment, he was exactly right.

This time, though, the hands that gripped Simon’s shoulders didn’t push him away.

*Ai ya, huai le! Tian a, wo wan le… - Well shit on my head! Merciless hell, I’m in big trouble…
*feng le guai dan - crazy freak
*Chu fei wo si le – over my dead body
*Ta ma de – fuck me blind

X-posted to jayne_simon and talkcrazy
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