Firefly/BSG fic: Ain't no gorram robot (Jayne, PG-13)
Title: Ain't no gorram robot
Characters: Jayne Cobb, Baltar & Six, Roslin, Adama, Apollo, Starbuck, Helo, Cally
Rating: PG-13
Words: About 2200
Summary: Jayne Cobb. On the Battlestar Galactica.
Notes: There is no point to this story except that I'm amusing myself by thinking about Jayne on the Galactica. Loose sequel to One Yu Bun Duh Planet. Requires some suspension of disbelief. Set in season 1, AU.
They get off the gorram robot-filled planet, and Helo gets them to some damn big ship. Bigger than Serenity, that's for sure. And the first thing Jayne sees when he steps onto that ship - besides all the people, and the soldiers with guns - is a little bitty girl Cylon that needs to get shot. He does that - shoots her right in the head without thinking twice - and then people are yelling, there's chaos and a prison cell, and some doctor poking and prodding him and taking his blood.
There's another doctor too, one who makes Simon seem relaxed, and rutting River Tam look like the picture of mental health.
People ask him questions. Too many gorram questions.
*
"Isn't he interesting, Gaius?" She runs her nails across his scalp, and Gaius shivers. "I'm not sure what to make of him. So very, very intriguing."
"He's just another human," Gaius mutters.
"What?" The man - Jayne Cobb - glares at him through the bars of the cell.
"Human?" Her tone dips lower, gets a little rough around the edges. "No, I'm not sure he is. Not the way you are."
"I asked you what the ruttin' hell you said, little man." Cobb glares.
No one on Galactica can glare like that. Not Adama, not Starbuck. Not even Roslin. Gaius shakes himself. "What? Oh, nothing." Her nails are tracing lines down the back of his neck now. "I said you're human, very positively. Congratulations!"
"Smile looks like it's gonna crack, doc. Also, don't need some pansy-ass rich boy telling me I'm human. Known it all my life." Cobb blows smoke in Gaius's direction as he talks.
"I find him quite sexy," she whispers, her tongue tracing the edge of Gaius's ear. "In an animalistic way. Don't you? Don't you sometimes wish you were like him, Gaius? Strong, crude and unbound by social conventions? Imagine what it must be like to have sex with him. No finesse, ignoring expectations. He wouldn't be driven to try and impress a woman. He'd just take what he wants." Abruptly she spins him around and pushes him back, down onto a chair.
Her dress hikes up her thighs as she straddles him, and Gaius bucks up, involuntarily. "Not now -" he tries, but she isn't listening. She rarely does. Her fingers trace his cock through his pants, lightly, and then she twists her hand, grasping. He grunts.
"Now, Gaius," she says, letting go and reaching up to grasp his shoulders. She starts a slow circling of her hips.
"You're crazy," he says, half-gasping, half-laughing.
"Do you think he'd watch, if you stayed here like this? Watch you come all over yourself? Watch your eyes close and your mouth twist?" She rotates her hips faster, her eyes lidded.
"You are crazy," he says again, but he doesn't care. He doesn't care if Cobb is in the room, or what he thinks. He just holds onto the arms of the chair, lets his head fall back, and goes with it. He her gasps and warmth roll over him, and thinks about her naked thighs around his head.
He half-hears Cobb mutter, "I ain't the crazy one around here."
But Gaius isn't really listening.
*
After the squirrelly little doctor announces Jayne's human and then gets all kinds of excited about it, there ain't any more prison cells. People, they figure he ain't no danger to them, though Jayne ain't so sure about that. They're right irritating, and he ain't so blind that he misses the military types following him around.
Helo meets him outside the cell with a bottle in one hand. "Welcome to the Fleet," he says grinning.
That's when Jayne figures it out. He's going to have to be social with these gorram folk.
*
"Mr. Cobb." Laura drums her fingers against the too-thin file. "You could be a valuable source of information about Cylon tactics. I understand you have already been debriefed on Galactica." Truthfully, it could hardly be called a debriefing, given how little Cobb had said. She smiles her most professional, most no-nonsense smile. "But I wanted to meet you myself, and get your particular perspective." Opening her palms she waits.
His arms remain crossed, his expression blank, and inwardly, Laura sighs. After a few moments, she leans forward. "Fine. Let me be blunt. You saved the life of our lieutenant, and you got him back with valuable intelligence about a Cylon infiltrator. We are all grateful, although we would have appreciated having a chance to question that infiltrator. But no one knows you. Your story sounds - fantastic. Unbelievable. It would be so much easier for both of us if you'd simply tell me whether you are a Cylon. Honesty will help you at this juncture. I give my word." She has the bloodwork, of course, Baltar's results, but Laura likes caution.
That's why there are five armed men in the room.
He stares at her for a few more moments, and then the façade cracks. He laughs, loud and obnoxious. "Lady, I ain't no gorram robot. But I ain't so sure you ain't. All them girl robots back on yer ruttin' planet were pretty gorram sexy, and I gotta say, you'd fit right in." He leans forward, sprawling across her desk, eyes focused on her breasts. "I ain't never had any problem sexin' women who got authority." He smirks. "No problem at all. Just so you know."
This time Laura sighs aloud.
*
President needs a good rut, that's for damn sure. After he meets with her, Jayne entertains himself thinking about her and Inara hooking up.
Hell, he's thinking about that while he meets with her, 'cause he sure wasn't thinking about her babble and questions. It'd take more than her, in her fancy suit, with her glasses and files to break him. More than she'd probably ever guess.
Her and Inara, it'd be really hot, all that hair, side-by-side, lips slick and flushed.
Later, in his bunk with the little curtains pulled closed, he thinks about it some more.
*
"So." Bill says, pouring the man a drink. It's not his finest vintage, but liquor sometimes loosens the tongue. "You must be missing home."
Cobb grunts, knocks back the drink, and doesn't even blink. Bill wonders if there are bets on the deck about Cobb drinking Ellen Tigh or Starbuck under the table.
"Mebbe. Don't see as it's yer business."
Obviously sentimentality isn't going to appeal to Cobb. Not that he'd expected it would. "Resources are tight in the Fleet. People need to pull their own weights. We don't know how to send you home." Not that anyone believes his story. Doc Cottle's suggested it might be some kind of post-traumatic psychological problem. "If you want to stay, you need to contribute to Galactica's operations." Bill is absolutely not setting this man loose on the non-military vessels." Is there anything you can do?"
Cobb rolls his eyes. "Yeah. I can shoot stuff. Blow stuff up. Kill." He says it like it should be obvious.
It is. There's a reason there are two marines in the room with Bill and Cobb, and two more outside. "Think you can shoot at things while flying?"
"I look like a pansy-ass pilot type?"
So that's a no. Bill resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, or rub at his yes. "We have a marine contingent. They could use additional personnel."
Cobb looks unmoved.
"I'm assuming Helo told you about the explosive rounds we use against the Cylons."
Cobb's face twitches and he leans forward slightly.
*
"Uniforms are for pussies," Jayne says, but it puts it on anyway. Ain't like he's got extra clothes, and he don't want to wear out his very favourite pants too fast.
The gun they issue him seems kind of wussy too but hell, he ain't got an endless supply of rounds for Vera. "Explosive rounds, huh?" he asks, looking at the gun speculatively.
"We only use the explosive rounds for Centurions," the tight-ass military-type tells him. "Not for practice. Not for other disputes. Don't forget it."
Jayne looks down at the man and grins. Uniforms really are for pussies. This guy wouldn't have lasted two days on the planet. Hell, Jayne might have shot him himself.
"You're on duty at 0600 hours," military-man says.
0600 hours. Dumbass military language. This is why Jayne didn't join no war - stupid language, stupid rules, ugly ass uniforms, and no leaving a man time alone to get to know his guns. "Yes, sir." He smirks, and straps his belt over the uniform.
"The belt is not regulation," tight-ass says.
"Belt's got my knives. I ain't takin' it off, military man."
"Captain Military-Man," he snaps back. "More regularly known as Captain Adama."
"Whatever." Jayne still ain't taking off his belt.
*
He's kind of - horrid. That's all Cally can think. But she's still listening to him talk. She's not walking away, even though she knows she should.
"Know a mechanic back on my ship," Jayne is saying, leaning down a little.
She can smell him. Guns, metal, sweat, cigar smoke.
"She's real cute, just like you. Even wears the same kind of ugly overalls." One finger pokes her in the shoulder.
"Umm." She steps back slightly. "That's nice."
"Cally!" Chief yells from across the deck. "Get your ass over here! I've got two engines down, and the CAG breathing down my neck, and you're not getting paid to stand around and flirt with the marines!"
"I'm not getting paid at all," she mutters, watching as Jayne's grin widens.
"Cally? That's yer name? Girl I know, she's even got a name kinda like yours. Know what else is mighty interestin' about her?"
He moves closer, mouth to her ear, and starts talking. Cally's stomach flips, because no one in the fleet talks like that, not even when the pilots get drunk and start comparing conquests. "I'm-" she starts, after he pauses.
"Cally! I said now!"
She jumps. Chief sounds really frakked off. "Gotta go," she says as she turns and runs. She's not sure if she's relieved or disappointed.
*
"How are you settling on Galactica?" Helo puts his tray of food down on the table and slides into a chair.
Jayne chews. "Food's okay." And it is. "Too many rules here. Not enough shooting." Almost makes him want to try flying one of them bitty ships, just so he can take few shots at moving targets. Makes him miss Mal's dumbass plans that always led to shooting of some sort.
"I can't believe you think this food is okay."
"Ain't mush." That makes it a plus in Jayne's book. He don't miss protein powder, that's for damn sure.
But he misses his guns. And having his own gorram bunk. And getting paid - volunteering is for suckers, even if he is getting free food. Mostly his misses the little things - watching Mal get pissy at some moron until he's angry enough that he tells Jayne to just shoot the guy. He misses Kaylee's homebrew, he misses getting into it with Zoe and goading her little man. He misses actually fighting instead of being part of a whole rutting fleet that just backed down and turned tail when things got rough.
He misses all his gear and guns.
Those were the good days, back on Serenity. Makes him almost want to hum, just thinking about it.
Not that Mal didn't turn tail too damn easy some days. Not that Jayne makes a habit of sticking around when it's stupid. And at least here there ain't no Reavers.
"It's good to be back though," Helo says. "At least they have food here."
"Yeah, whatever," Jayne says, remembering how good his guns looked, lined up on his wall. Maybe Zoe uses them now, and he don't mind that thought so much.
*
"Your pants are too tight," Kara says, and then slaps Cobb on the ass. "It's a crime."
"Figure the only crime here is I'm still wearin' 'em ."
His breath is warm and smells like the Chief's hooch, and it makes Kara want another drink. Or five.
"Good point," she mutters, and maybe the pants are tight, but they come off easily enough. "This is strictly a one-night thing." She says it as seriously as she can. The hiccup almost spoils it. "Because I'm going to steal your cigars after you fall asleep."
He smirks at her. "Cunnin'."
"Yep."
"How'd you know where I went and hid 'em?" His hands slide under her shirt, and hell, they're hot.
Pulling him closer, she grinds her hips against his. His eyes cross a little. "I've got my ways. Also, Helo told me."
"You uniform types ain't to be trusted," he says, licking her ear.
Twisting her head, Kara winks. Maybe it makes her look sexy, maybe it makes her look like she's having a stroke. She doesn't care, and she figures he doesn't either, since she's got her hand wrapped around his cock. "Then get me out of it." Booze, sex, stealing and cigars - this is her kind of night.
She's going to have to thank Helo for bringing this guy on board.
End.
Characters: Jayne Cobb, Baltar & Six, Roslin, Adama, Apollo, Starbuck, Helo, Cally
Rating: PG-13
Words: About 2200
Summary: Jayne Cobb. On the Battlestar Galactica.
Notes: There is no point to this story except that I'm amusing myself by thinking about Jayne on the Galactica. Loose sequel to One Yu Bun Duh Planet. Requires some suspension of disbelief. Set in season 1, AU.
They get off the gorram robot-filled planet, and Helo gets them to some damn big ship. Bigger than Serenity, that's for sure. And the first thing Jayne sees when he steps onto that ship - besides all the people, and the soldiers with guns - is a little bitty girl Cylon that needs to get shot. He does that - shoots her right in the head without thinking twice - and then people are yelling, there's chaos and a prison cell, and some doctor poking and prodding him and taking his blood.
There's another doctor too, one who makes Simon seem relaxed, and rutting River Tam look like the picture of mental health.
People ask him questions. Too many gorram questions.
*
"Isn't he interesting, Gaius?" She runs her nails across his scalp, and Gaius shivers. "I'm not sure what to make of him. So very, very intriguing."
"He's just another human," Gaius mutters.
"What?" The man - Jayne Cobb - glares at him through the bars of the cell.
"Human?" Her tone dips lower, gets a little rough around the edges. "No, I'm not sure he is. Not the way you are."
"I asked you what the ruttin' hell you said, little man." Cobb glares.
No one on Galactica can glare like that. Not Adama, not Starbuck. Not even Roslin. Gaius shakes himself. "What? Oh, nothing." Her nails are tracing lines down the back of his neck now. "I said you're human, very positively. Congratulations!"
"Smile looks like it's gonna crack, doc. Also, don't need some pansy-ass rich boy telling me I'm human. Known it all my life." Cobb blows smoke in Gaius's direction as he talks.
"I find him quite sexy," she whispers, her tongue tracing the edge of Gaius's ear. "In an animalistic way. Don't you? Don't you sometimes wish you were like him, Gaius? Strong, crude and unbound by social conventions? Imagine what it must be like to have sex with him. No finesse, ignoring expectations. He wouldn't be driven to try and impress a woman. He'd just take what he wants." Abruptly she spins him around and pushes him back, down onto a chair.
Her dress hikes up her thighs as she straddles him, and Gaius bucks up, involuntarily. "Not now -" he tries, but she isn't listening. She rarely does. Her fingers trace his cock through his pants, lightly, and then she twists her hand, grasping. He grunts.
"Now, Gaius," she says, letting go and reaching up to grasp his shoulders. She starts a slow circling of her hips.
"You're crazy," he says, half-gasping, half-laughing.
"Do you think he'd watch, if you stayed here like this? Watch you come all over yourself? Watch your eyes close and your mouth twist?" She rotates her hips faster, her eyes lidded.
"You are crazy," he says again, but he doesn't care. He doesn't care if Cobb is in the room, or what he thinks. He just holds onto the arms of the chair, lets his head fall back, and goes with it. He her gasps and warmth roll over him, and thinks about her naked thighs around his head.
He half-hears Cobb mutter, "I ain't the crazy one around here."
But Gaius isn't really listening.
*
After the squirrelly little doctor announces Jayne's human and then gets all kinds of excited about it, there ain't any more prison cells. People, they figure he ain't no danger to them, though Jayne ain't so sure about that. They're right irritating, and he ain't so blind that he misses the military types following him around.
Helo meets him outside the cell with a bottle in one hand. "Welcome to the Fleet," he says grinning.
That's when Jayne figures it out. He's going to have to be social with these gorram folk.
*
"Mr. Cobb." Laura drums her fingers against the too-thin file. "You could be a valuable source of information about Cylon tactics. I understand you have already been debriefed on Galactica." Truthfully, it could hardly be called a debriefing, given how little Cobb had said. She smiles her most professional, most no-nonsense smile. "But I wanted to meet you myself, and get your particular perspective." Opening her palms she waits.
His arms remain crossed, his expression blank, and inwardly, Laura sighs. After a few moments, she leans forward. "Fine. Let me be blunt. You saved the life of our lieutenant, and you got him back with valuable intelligence about a Cylon infiltrator. We are all grateful, although we would have appreciated having a chance to question that infiltrator. But no one knows you. Your story sounds - fantastic. Unbelievable. It would be so much easier for both of us if you'd simply tell me whether you are a Cylon. Honesty will help you at this juncture. I give my word." She has the bloodwork, of course, Baltar's results, but Laura likes caution.
That's why there are five armed men in the room.
He stares at her for a few more moments, and then the façade cracks. He laughs, loud and obnoxious. "Lady, I ain't no gorram robot. But I ain't so sure you ain't. All them girl robots back on yer ruttin' planet were pretty gorram sexy, and I gotta say, you'd fit right in." He leans forward, sprawling across her desk, eyes focused on her breasts. "I ain't never had any problem sexin' women who got authority." He smirks. "No problem at all. Just so you know."
This time Laura sighs aloud.
*
President needs a good rut, that's for damn sure. After he meets with her, Jayne entertains himself thinking about her and Inara hooking up.
Hell, he's thinking about that while he meets with her, 'cause he sure wasn't thinking about her babble and questions. It'd take more than her, in her fancy suit, with her glasses and files to break him. More than she'd probably ever guess.
Her and Inara, it'd be really hot, all that hair, side-by-side, lips slick and flushed.
Later, in his bunk with the little curtains pulled closed, he thinks about it some more.
*
"So." Bill says, pouring the man a drink. It's not his finest vintage, but liquor sometimes loosens the tongue. "You must be missing home."
Cobb grunts, knocks back the drink, and doesn't even blink. Bill wonders if there are bets on the deck about Cobb drinking Ellen Tigh or Starbuck under the table.
"Mebbe. Don't see as it's yer business."
Obviously sentimentality isn't going to appeal to Cobb. Not that he'd expected it would. "Resources are tight in the Fleet. People need to pull their own weights. We don't know how to send you home." Not that anyone believes his story. Doc Cottle's suggested it might be some kind of post-traumatic psychological problem. "If you want to stay, you need to contribute to Galactica's operations." Bill is absolutely not setting this man loose on the non-military vessels." Is there anything you can do?"
Cobb rolls his eyes. "Yeah. I can shoot stuff. Blow stuff up. Kill." He says it like it should be obvious.
It is. There's a reason there are two marines in the room with Bill and Cobb, and two more outside. "Think you can shoot at things while flying?"
"I look like a pansy-ass pilot type?"
So that's a no. Bill resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, or rub at his yes. "We have a marine contingent. They could use additional personnel."
Cobb looks unmoved.
"I'm assuming Helo told you about the explosive rounds we use against the Cylons."
Cobb's face twitches and he leans forward slightly.
*
"Uniforms are for pussies," Jayne says, but it puts it on anyway. Ain't like he's got extra clothes, and he don't want to wear out his very favourite pants too fast.
The gun they issue him seems kind of wussy too but hell, he ain't got an endless supply of rounds for Vera. "Explosive rounds, huh?" he asks, looking at the gun speculatively.
"We only use the explosive rounds for Centurions," the tight-ass military-type tells him. "Not for practice. Not for other disputes. Don't forget it."
Jayne looks down at the man and grins. Uniforms really are for pussies. This guy wouldn't have lasted two days on the planet. Hell, Jayne might have shot him himself.
"You're on duty at 0600 hours," military-man says.
0600 hours. Dumbass military language. This is why Jayne didn't join no war - stupid language, stupid rules, ugly ass uniforms, and no leaving a man time alone to get to know his guns. "Yes, sir." He smirks, and straps his belt over the uniform.
"The belt is not regulation," tight-ass says.
"Belt's got my knives. I ain't takin' it off, military man."
"Captain Military-Man," he snaps back. "More regularly known as Captain Adama."
"Whatever." Jayne still ain't taking off his belt.
*
He's kind of - horrid. That's all Cally can think. But she's still listening to him talk. She's not walking away, even though she knows she should.
"Know a mechanic back on my ship," Jayne is saying, leaning down a little.
She can smell him. Guns, metal, sweat, cigar smoke.
"She's real cute, just like you. Even wears the same kind of ugly overalls." One finger pokes her in the shoulder.
"Umm." She steps back slightly. "That's nice."
"Cally!" Chief yells from across the deck. "Get your ass over here! I've got two engines down, and the CAG breathing down my neck, and you're not getting paid to stand around and flirt with the marines!"
"I'm not getting paid at all," she mutters, watching as Jayne's grin widens.
"Cally? That's yer name? Girl I know, she's even got a name kinda like yours. Know what else is mighty interestin' about her?"
He moves closer, mouth to her ear, and starts talking. Cally's stomach flips, because no one in the fleet talks like that, not even when the pilots get drunk and start comparing conquests. "I'm-" she starts, after he pauses.
"Cally! I said now!"
She jumps. Chief sounds really frakked off. "Gotta go," she says as she turns and runs. She's not sure if she's relieved or disappointed.
*
"How are you settling on Galactica?" Helo puts his tray of food down on the table and slides into a chair.
Jayne chews. "Food's okay." And it is. "Too many rules here. Not enough shooting." Almost makes him want to try flying one of them bitty ships, just so he can take few shots at moving targets. Makes him miss Mal's dumbass plans that always led to shooting of some sort.
"I can't believe you think this food is okay."
"Ain't mush." That makes it a plus in Jayne's book. He don't miss protein powder, that's for damn sure.
But he misses his guns. And having his own gorram bunk. And getting paid - volunteering is for suckers, even if he is getting free food. Mostly his misses the little things - watching Mal get pissy at some moron until he's angry enough that he tells Jayne to just shoot the guy. He misses Kaylee's homebrew, he misses getting into it with Zoe and goading her little man. He misses actually fighting instead of being part of a whole rutting fleet that just backed down and turned tail when things got rough.
He misses all his gear and guns.
Those were the good days, back on Serenity. Makes him almost want to hum, just thinking about it.
Not that Mal didn't turn tail too damn easy some days. Not that Jayne makes a habit of sticking around when it's stupid. And at least here there ain't no Reavers.
"It's good to be back though," Helo says. "At least they have food here."
"Yeah, whatever," Jayne says, remembering how good his guns looked, lined up on his wall. Maybe Zoe uses them now, and he don't mind that thought so much.
*
"Your pants are too tight," Kara says, and then slaps Cobb on the ass. "It's a crime."
"Figure the only crime here is I'm still wearin' 'em ."
His breath is warm and smells like the Chief's hooch, and it makes Kara want another drink. Or five.
"Good point," she mutters, and maybe the pants are tight, but they come off easily enough. "This is strictly a one-night thing." She says it as seriously as she can. The hiccup almost spoils it. "Because I'm going to steal your cigars after you fall asleep."
He smirks at her. "Cunnin'."
"Yep."
"How'd you know where I went and hid 'em?" His hands slide under her shirt, and hell, they're hot.
Pulling him closer, she grinds her hips against his. His eyes cross a little. "I've got my ways. Also, Helo told me."
"You uniform types ain't to be trusted," he says, licking her ear.
Twisting her head, Kara winks. Maybe it makes her look sexy, maybe it makes her look like she's having a stroke. She doesn't care, and she figures he doesn't either, since she's got her hand wrapped around his cock. "Then get me out of it." Booze, sex, stealing and cigars - this is her kind of night.
She's going to have to thank Helo for bringing this guy on board.
End.