Words Unspoken - Firefly fanfic (Jayne/Kaylee)
So, I have a theory that if properly explained, just about any two characters that aren’t blood related - and are the genders that the characters involved are attracted to - can be made to work. This was an exercise.
Words Unspoken
He never expected her to take him up on the offer. Kaylee was Kaylee. She was the one that everyone on the ship protected at all costs. If the crew of Serenity was a family, Kaylee was the baby sister that everyone watched out for and spoiled because she was just so Kaylee.
Which meant that he was a dead, dead, very dead man if anyone found out he’d taken advantage of Kaylee.
He hadn’t, of course. He may be rough and coarse and sharp around the edges, but he had rules he followed. The three most important rules fell in this order:
And he’d broken his third rule when Kaylee had looked up at him with her big Kaylee eyes and he could see the doubts in her eyes that were echoed in his, the doubts that said she needed to know that she was there because he wanted her and not merely someone. He wasn’t the best with words - he left words to the ones who could talk pretty, like the doc, or who could inspire, like Mal and Book - so he’d done the only thing he could think of to chase away her doubts, which was to kiss her.
So two out of three rules had been broken.
But not the middle rule. He hadn’t broken that rule. Kaylee hadn’t had anything to drink, and when she’d said yes, she’d really meant yes.
But because she was Kaylee and he was Jayne, everyone would think that he’d done something, taken advantage of her in some way. And then he’d find himself in the airlock, and this time, Mal would open it up and he didn’t want to die like that.
Beside him, Kaylee shifted and nestled in closer to him, and in spite of himself and the fears and the doubts that were chasing around in his brain, Jayne smiled and traced her cheek with his knuckles.
Kaylee deserved better. She deserved soft sheets, not the cheap scratchy cloth he used. She deserved warm blankets, real blankets, not the quilts his mama sent him. Kaylee deserved roses and candles and romance, not crappy fake flowers he’d tried to make and failed miserably that had still caused her face to light up, not insect repellent candles that he’d picked up in a great sale, and most definitely not him.
And yet, all he could do was stay there and hold her and hope that she didn’t regret it, and knowing she would. She’d wake up and look up at him, and the regret would flood her face and it would kill him.
He wanted to hold on to her, to never let her go, to promise her the moon and the sun and the stars and anything and everything if she could just feel the same way about him that he felt about her.
But he knew that he couldn’t hold her, that she was Kaylee and he was Jayne and he’d have to let her go, that he couldn’t promise her anything except what he had but whatever he had was hers if she wanted it but that she would never feel the same way about him that he felt about her.
He should leave, so that he wouldn’t have to witness her realization of what had happened. He could steel himself against whatever words she might say, or maybe they could pretend it never happened and he could hide each time he died a little because of words unspoken.
But he couldn’t leave. He had to stay and absorb whatever time he could have with her, just holding her and breathing in the scent of her, because when she left, memories would be the only thing he’d have of the one perfect night.
Kaylee sighed and opened her eyes, and Jayne felt his heart sink.
She smiled at him, that wide Kaylee grin that made everyone around her smile, and Jayne found himself smiling back. “Hey, you.” She whispered the words softly, as though he mattered.
Jayne searched her eyes, waiting for the regret to appear in them. It didn’t. “Hi.” His voice was gruff and rough, just like he was.
Kaylee’s smile stretched wider before she kissed him softly, and Jayne realized that he didn’t need to promise her the sun and the moon and the stars and anything and everything, because she’d already accepted him as he was. He didn’t need to hold on to her and never let her go, because she was here and she wasn’t leaving.
And if Mal stuck him in the airlock, Jayne knew that Kaylee would rescue him, because nobody could get the Captain to do anything faster than Kaylee could.
Jayne tossed his third rule out the window again, and kissed Kaylee again.
Words Unspoken
He never expected her to take him up on the offer. Kaylee was Kaylee. She was the one that everyone on the ship protected at all costs. If the crew of Serenity was a family, Kaylee was the baby sister that everyone watched out for and spoiled because she was just so Kaylee.
Which meant that he was a dead, dead, very dead man if anyone found out he’d taken advantage of Kaylee.
He hadn’t, of course. He may be rough and coarse and sharp around the edges, but he had rules he followed. The three most important rules fell in this order:
- Always have a weapon on your body within easy reach. Preferably more than one.
- Never, ever, ever take advantage of a girl. If she’s had a swallow of liquor and you’re not falling down drunk, absolutely nothing will happen.
2a. If a girl says no, it means no.
2b. If she says yes, but actually means no, it’s still a no. Nothing will happen if it’s a no. - Never kiss a girl on the mouth.
And he’d broken his third rule when Kaylee had looked up at him with her big Kaylee eyes and he could see the doubts in her eyes that were echoed in his, the doubts that said she needed to know that she was there because he wanted her and not merely someone. He wasn’t the best with words - he left words to the ones who could talk pretty, like the doc, or who could inspire, like Mal and Book - so he’d done the only thing he could think of to chase away her doubts, which was to kiss her.
So two out of three rules had been broken.
But not the middle rule. He hadn’t broken that rule. Kaylee hadn’t had anything to drink, and when she’d said yes, she’d really meant yes.
But because she was Kaylee and he was Jayne, everyone would think that he’d done something, taken advantage of her in some way. And then he’d find himself in the airlock, and this time, Mal would open it up and he didn’t want to die like that.
Beside him, Kaylee shifted and nestled in closer to him, and in spite of himself and the fears and the doubts that were chasing around in his brain, Jayne smiled and traced her cheek with his knuckles.
Kaylee deserved better. She deserved soft sheets, not the cheap scratchy cloth he used. She deserved warm blankets, real blankets, not the quilts his mama sent him. Kaylee deserved roses and candles and romance, not crappy fake flowers he’d tried to make and failed miserably that had still caused her face to light up, not insect repellent candles that he’d picked up in a great sale, and most definitely not him.
And yet, all he could do was stay there and hold her and hope that she didn’t regret it, and knowing she would. She’d wake up and look up at him, and the regret would flood her face and it would kill him.
He wanted to hold on to her, to never let her go, to promise her the moon and the sun and the stars and anything and everything if she could just feel the same way about him that he felt about her.
But he knew that he couldn’t hold her, that she was Kaylee and he was Jayne and he’d have to let her go, that he couldn’t promise her anything except what he had but whatever he had was hers if she wanted it but that she would never feel the same way about him that he felt about her.
He should leave, so that he wouldn’t have to witness her realization of what had happened. He could steel himself against whatever words she might say, or maybe they could pretend it never happened and he could hide each time he died a little because of words unspoken.
But he couldn’t leave. He had to stay and absorb whatever time he could have with her, just holding her and breathing in the scent of her, because when she left, memories would be the only thing he’d have of the one perfect night.
Kaylee sighed and opened her eyes, and Jayne felt his heart sink.
She smiled at him, that wide Kaylee grin that made everyone around her smile, and Jayne found himself smiling back. “Hey, you.” She whispered the words softly, as though he mattered.
Jayne searched her eyes, waiting for the regret to appear in them. It didn’t. “Hi.” His voice was gruff and rough, just like he was.
Kaylee’s smile stretched wider before she kissed him softly, and Jayne realized that he didn’t need to promise her the sun and the moon and the stars and anything and everything, because she’d already accepted him as he was. He didn’t need to hold on to her and never let her go, because she was here and she wasn’t leaving.
And if Mal stuck him in the airlock, Jayne knew that Kaylee would rescue him, because nobody could get the Captain to do anything faster than Kaylee could.
Jayne tossed his third rule out the window again, and kissed Kaylee again.