Hate
So I seriously debated the widom of posting this. I spent two days going back and forth over whether this is in character enough for both Jayne and Kaylee. I've been repeatedly assured that it is...because the movie changed everything. Including them both. I'm still angsting over this, so feedback is much appreciated.
Sometimes, she hated him.
He had this way about him. Cocky and sure, like the whole world was at his feet. It amused her to think that he and Simon had that in common. Jayne strutted while he worked, wearing his don't-fuck-with-me scowl and demanding your attention to his guns and his muscle and the fact that you were going to die if you breathed wrong. Simon's was an understated confidence that he wore like a shield. But it too, would overflow when he was at work, flooding the infirmary and demanding unquestioning obediance from those around him. And he got it.
Somtimes, she hated him too.
She tried to crawl inside of Simon after Wash and Book died. Wanted his confidence and his smarts and his goodness to heal the emotional wounds the battle with the Reavers had caused. She'd wanted him for so very long, and now she had him, all of him, in several very interesting ways.
She was beginning to think it wasn't enough. Maybe it never would be.
Sometimes, she hated Jayne.
Everyone else on ship mourned, but not Jayne. Life just went on as though Wash had never been there, and that Book was still alive and well in Haven. He still worked out for hours a day. Still cleaned his weapons. Still badgered the Captain to get a job lined up. Still complained about River being moonbrained, even though she'd saved them all.
Still teased and taunted Simon until he was red with rage. Still made crude jokes about Inara's line of work.
He still flirted with Zoe.
She'd seen them once, in the cargo bay, fighting. Fists flying, booted heels knocking the feet out from under one another. Jayne was stronger, but Zoe was quicker. He'd been loud and crude, keeping up a steady stream of sharp, cruel words, taunting her about Wash and the war and the reavers, and she used her fists to make him regret it.
She wondered if Zoe even knew she was crying as she beat the hell out of Jayne.
When he was down, and Kaylee actually feared he'd never get up, he smiled up at Zoe despite his split lip. Chest heaving as she panted, she had frowned down at him, wiping the blood slowly oozing from her knuckles and simply asked "Why?"
His smile took on a letcherous glint as he looked her up and down, "Wanted t' get ya all hot and sweaty."
For a tense moment, she thought Zoe would finish him off. Instead, she pushed back the mop of dark curls, and offered him a hand up.
Sometimes, she hated him. Right now, more than ever.
"I know what yer doing," he repeated, leaning against the door of the engine room, his presense seeming to fill the space.
"No, Jayne, you don't."
"Oh, yes I do. Yer thinkin' the pretty doctor's gonna take all those things broken inside ya and fix 'em all up." She knew he was smirking, even though she was under the engine and couldn't see more than his feet. "I hear ya at night, you know. When you're beggin' him to let you come."
She froze, mortified. Oh God, she hated him!
"Seems t' me, if he was doin' the job right, you wouldn't be needin' to beg."
"My love life is no concern of yours."
"Cept it is, cause you ain't happy. And when you ain't happy, the Cap'n ain't happy. And when the Cap'n ain't happy no one is."
Anger rose unbidden and dangerous inside her and she pushed out from under the engine, to glare at him. "We ain't happy because Wash is dead, in case you hadn't noticed."
"Oh, I noticed." He folded his arms across his chest, that evil little taunting smile beginning to show on his face. "Cap'n can't fly this bird worth beans."
Her mouth fell open and she stood up, stalking over to him, "You unfeeling son of a bitch! Don't you even care?"
He shrugged.
She hit him.
Kaylee had never hit anyone in her life. She'd shot a gun, maybe hit a few Reavers, but she'd never taken up a fist against anyone in her life. Jayne was a bad first choice.
He'd rubbed his chin where she'd socked him, a few faded bruises still lingered from his tussel with Zoe, and she hoped that they hurt. He gazed down a her for a long moment, those blue eyes of his completely unreadable. "Simon ain't gonna make it better, Kaylee. He could fuck you from sunrise to sunset, and Wash's still gonna be dead."
She hit him again.
He let her.
And she kept hitting him. His face, his chest, his stomach. Everything within reach. Her small fists ineffectual against his muscle, but she continued to hit him until her fists were sore and tears were streaming down her face.
Her assualt on him slowed as the sobs shook her shoulders. "I hate you! I wish it'd been you instead of him!"
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to rest against his chest, "Yeah. Me too."