Fic: All the Tools for the Job
Mal and Jayne are still kicking my ass in my other fic, but it's up to 5200 words now, so yay! I took a break to entertain aliaspiral , which coincidentally, is where most of my crack!fic stems from. Thanks for the title, sweetie!
Title: All the Tools for the Job
Author: Rinny
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 820
Characters: Crew
Summery: The crew has been acting a little strange, and Mal's had just about enough of it.
Serenity had left Persephone after a three day layover, all but Simon and River made use of the port's many attractions with their generous cuts from the last job pulled on Quint. They hadn’t been more than a day in the black and Mal knew something was going on. Just wasn't entirely sure what.
For one thing, the crew was entirely too happy. Usually the glow of a successful run and coin in their pockets wore off after a few hours in the black and old routines were firmly back in place. For another thing, they were giggling. Even Zoe. That alone was disconcerting enough. And Mal didn't like being disconcerted. The only one unaffected by whatever it was that was floating in the air was Jayne. He was as grumpy as ever and already chomping at the bit for the next job. At least some things didn't change.
Every time he stepped on the bridge, he found Wash struggling to look as innocent as possible with Kaylee, River and Zoe in fits of laughter. Odd thing was, he kept finding him poised in the oddest positions: Kneeling on the floor. Stretched out across the co-pilot console. The last time, he found him on all fours, throwing the girls what Mal was afraid to classify as a sultry stare.
He avoided the bridge for the rest of the day.
That evening, when even the Shepherd couldn't make eye contact with anyone at the table without laughing, he'd had enough.
"Alright, last I checked, this was still my boat," he said sharply, narrowing his eyes from the head of the table. "Anyone here disagree with me on that point?" Everyone but Jayne looked chastened, he was still eating with gusto. "I wanna know, and I wanna know right now what has you all actin' like a bunch school girls on holiday."
No one answered him. He scanned each face, settling on Inara who appeared the most composed. "Miz Serra?"
"Sorry Mal." She sat up straighter. "I don't believe I can bare any light on the subject."
For some reason, that sent the other girls into giggles. Zoe snorted and Mal shot her a sharp look. "Zo, Care to let me in on this little mystery?"
"Um," her brown eyes twinkled with mirth. "I don't think it's exactly a little mystery."
"No mystery at all, anymore," Simon groused.
"Tastes bitter because size does matter," River consoled, patting his hand.
Wash looked suddenly alarmed and turned to Zoe, "That's not true, is it lambie-toes?"
"It don't hurt none," Kaylee offered with a grin.
"I hope you're not speaking from direct experience," Simon's brow furrowed.
"Really Wash, in my experience as a companion size often has nothing to do with skill."
“Length has little to do with sexual stimulation in heterosexual copulation. Thickness is of more import." River recited, folding her hands neatly in front of her plate, cutting off all conversation. When all eyes were on her she smiled, "Better than average."
“Oh, well that’s reassuring,” Wash broke the silence sarcastically.
“River!”
“Don’t you worry none, sweetcakes, you’re more than man enough for me.”
“Simple fact, Simple Simon.”
“How do you even know that?!”
“Perhaps in the basest of ways, size may matter. But truly, I’ve found that the most satisfying of experiences involve all five the senses.”
“I do believe our dear Captain is beginning to turn an interesting shade of purple…”
"Gorramit!" Jayne bellowed, "Can't a fella eat in peace? Y'all gotta be yammerin' on all the time?"
There was instant silence.
"That's better," he nodded, "'Nough to make a man drop everythin' and hop the nearest shuttle out of 'ere."
Pause.
"Everything?" Kaylee asked innocently.
Jayne's brow furrowed and he glanced around he table, finding eight sets of eyes fixed on him, "Well, uh, everythin' 'cept my guns. Can't get far without..."
He trailed off when it became obvious that no one could hear him above the laughter. "What?" He glanced at the Captain, "What?"
Tears were slipping down Kaylee's full cheeks when she pulled out a rolled up magazine from one of her many pockets and dropped it in the center of the table. Jayne pulled it toward himself and unfurled it to the open page. The edges were worn and dog eared, and the paper had lost some of it's shine, but there was no mistaking what, or rather, who was featured in the centerfold.
A few less scars and a few years younger, but otherwise unchanged, was Jayne. Feet braced shoulder width apart and bare naked as the day he was born, except for a gun belt slung around his hips and a cigar clasped between his teeth, he stood at full attention. A familiar feral grin hung unashamed from his lips
The older version tilted his head and frowned before going back to his food. "The one where I got Vera strapped to m'chest was better."