New Firefly Fic: Proposition (AU, PG, Simon, River, Mal, Jayne)
This is a follow-up to an old AU prompt fic written for sansets, The One Where River and Simon are Bank Robbers and Mal and Jayne are Tracking Them (available here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40615482/chapters/101762622 or here: https://anagrrl.dreamwidth.org/179592.html#cutid1).
I re-read the fic when posting it to AO3 and decided that I wanted to write a short follow-up. So here it is!
Title: Proposition
Rating: PG
Length: About 1500 words
Characters: Mal, Jayne, Simon, River
Summary: It's a four-man job.
Four jobs - and almost 150 000 platinum later - Simon feels a bit annoyed and a bit betrayed. “You said they weren’t going to catch us,” he whispers to River. He’s sitting in a ship he doesn’t know, his hands are tied behind his back, his cane is nowhere to be seen, and he’s just feeling…peevish. They had been so, so close to their financial goals.
River sighs, a put-upon sound, one that Simon recognizes as frustration that his brain is slower than hers. “They didn’t catch us.”
Simon’s chaffing wrists would suggest otherwise. But River is grinning, and it’s a touch disturbing to see.
She leans in. “We caught them.” And she slips out of her bonds.
*
Later, Simon waits for the lawmen to wake up. They don’t look like much, just another couple of backwater lawmen looking to get paid. Simon wonders what they thought they saw when they had looked at him and River.
River is in the cockpit, on a course that will get them back to their own shuttle in a few hours. Thankfully the lawmen had intercepted them on a supply run, and the shuttle should still be hidden and safe. Even luckier, Simon had finally conceded to River’s concerns about their loot making the shuttle too heavy, and most of their takings are now stashed at a branch of the First Independent bank, property of an apparently respectable young man with a sad past who’s looking to start out fresh.
One of the lawmen stirs, and Simon watches as he opens his eyes and takes in the situation - gagged and bound in his own ship.
“Hello,” Simon says.
The lawman’s eyes narrow.
Simon grins a little, and pulls out a small, delicate knife. He starts to clean his nails. “We’ll just wait until your friend wakes up. We have a proposition for you.”
That is definitely a scowl on the man’s face, even around the gag.
*
The proposition involves a job. Simon is not entirely convinced, but River is. “It’s a four-man job!” she’d explained. “And it could be the last one. We’d get at least 700 000.”
“It’s risky.” Although the thought of no more jobs - of settling somewhere quiet and comfortable and with lots of security, to focus on River’s situation - had been welcome.
“Not with four.”
“Why these two?”
River had rolled her eyes, as though she thought Simon doesn’t trust her. But of course, Simon would be a fool to ever fully trust her.
“He,” she’d pointed at the Browncoat, “hates the Alliance, and is just looking for an excuse. And he,” she’d pointed at the big one, “follows the money. Also, he’s bored. And we need him to carry all the money.”
It had been a good assessment.
River had knelt down in front of them, her hand absently stroking the Browncoat’s leg. “They’re morally questionable.” Turning back to Simon, she’d smiled brightly. “Like me!”
Well, not precisely like her, but Simon had let it go. There’d been a bigger question. “But can they be trusted?”
She’d snorted. “No.” Then she’d moved closer, mouth to his ear, whispering, “But can we?”
*
Simon explains the plan. Long ago, he and River had decided that it’s just best if Simon does the talking when there’s occasion to converse.
The plan is quite good, and involves a slightly larger bank branch and a regularly scheduled cash transport. River had set the broad strokes, and he’d added a few details. After he’s done outlining everything, both lawmen look at him like he’s crazed. Though of course, they haven’t actually spoken with River yet, so they don’t have a great yardstick for measuring sanity. “So?”
The Browncoat - Malcolm Reynolds - River had called him, looks like he wants to speak. So, Simon is courteous, and removes the gag.
“Ain’t the worst plan I’ve ever heard. And what if we say no?”
“Well -”
“Bullet to the brainpan!” River yells from the cockpit. “Squish!”
Simon resists the urge to follow up with maniacal laughter. Instead, he says, “We’ll leave you with a few supplies in the middle of nowhere on some backwards moon.” Which of course implies that there is anything other than backwards moons in the vicinity. “We’re not criminals.”
Reynolds gives him another look, and the other one - Cobb - snorts through his gag.
They do have a point. Simon smiles, and says, “Well, not murderous criminals.”
Well, mostly.
*
Simon shouldn’t be surprised when they agree to the job. He can’t exactly bring himself to trust them, but at least they say yes. It might be a temporary yes, but they can come to that discussion later. If necessary. It helps that River alternates between smiling at them and muttering about knives while staring into corners. It never hurts to keep your criminal associates a little off-balance.
“What’re you gonna do with yer cut?” Cobb asks, as he checks over the guns River had confiscated and has now returned. It’s polite criminal conversation, and Simon is impressed that Cobb bothers. Reynolds, on the other hand, appears to be faking sleep in the corner, arms crossed tightly over his chest. Simon wonders who he thinks he’s fooling.
“Oh, buy an estate, live a life of luxury, you know. The usual.” Fix my sister’s brain, try to encourage her to be a little less of a psychopath. Engage in minimal crime. Just your everyday goals and hopes. “What all fine gentlemen dream of.”
Cobb snorts. “Sure.”
“What about you?” The cut will be quite generous, probably more than this man’s seen in his entire lifetime.
“Guns. Maybe some knives. Ammo.” He grins a little. “Whores.”
From the corner, Simon hears a muttered, “Gorrammit, Jayne.”
“This could be life-changing money.” Simon leans a little closer. “Maybe think about dreaming a little bigger.”
Cobb looks thoughtful for a minute. Simon can practically hear the gears grinding. “Maybe some bigger guns.”
Simon closes his eyes briefly. But who is he to judge? He has a crazy, murderous sister who likes to play games that alternate between hilarious and horrifying. So. He just lets Cobb daydream about weapons and whores.
“And grenades.”
Of course. “What well-armed criminal,” Cobb coughs pointedly, “sorry, lawman, would find himself without grenades?”
“’xactly,” Cobb says, looking satisfied.
*
The plan works. There’s a little mayhem - of course - and at one point Simon finds himself pinned behind a rocky outcropping, sheltering from all the bullets flying his way. His shockwave cane is useless because he hasn’t had a chance to recalibrate it since they hit the bank. The entire situation is somewhat vexing. None of their other jobs were like this.
“None of our other jobs were like this,” he yells at Reynolds. “They were all very smooth!”
“Smooth like your hands?” Reynolds yells back, shooting over the outcropping.
Well, how nice of him to notice. It takes a lot to keep the calluses and scars to a minimum. And also, “Smooth like River and I followed the plan and didn’t deviate or improvise like amateurs who forgot we’re not here to have fun!”
It seems like Reynolds has more he wants to say, but then there’s an explosion from somewhere far in front of them, and Simon hears yelling, the shooting stops, and Reynolds just shakes his head and asks, “Where the hell did Jayne get a gorram grenade?”
Simon doesn’t need to know the answer to that question because right now he’s focussed on results, not process. And anyway, he suspects he really doesn’t want to know.
*
They make it back to their shuttle, and fly Cobb and Reynolds back to where they’d left their own ship. Miracle of miracles, they don’t get betrayed or arrested, although Cobb makes a play for a slightly larger cut, “On account of all the ammo and gear I used savin’ yer asses.”
He has a point. And he did carry more than his share of the money. River doesn’t look murderous at the suggestion, so Simon gives him an extra bag. He’s feeling generous. Relaxed. Maybe even happy, in that smug, satisfied kind of way.
River smirks at him.
“So,” he says to Reynolds, as they stand between the ships and wrap up their business, “What’s next for you?” He can’t help it, he’s feeling conversational. Maybe it’s the sunshine and the decided lack of shooting around them.
Reynolds gives him a funny look.
“Just curious.” It probably isn’t smart to share too many details, but for some reason he just keeps talking. “River and I have enough for a nice estate on Bellerophon now.” It’s good enough to set them up for a long, long time.
“Fancy,” Reynolds.
Fancy and secure. Very, very secure. Which is useful when you have a sister with River’s...proclivities.
Reynolds is still looking at him, like he’s got something on his mind, but he isn’t quite sure what.
Simon doesn’t know what comes over him. Maybe it’s the triumph. Maybe it’s the crime. Maybe it’s the allure of talking with someone who doesn’t switch to speaking in riddles at inopportune times. But it’s something, and it makes him lean into Reynolds, hand on his arm, and say, low and slow, maybe a little bit dirty, “Feel free to visit any time.”
He means it.
End.
I re-read the fic when posting it to AO3 and decided that I wanted to write a short follow-up. So here it is!
Title: Proposition
Rating: PG
Length: About 1500 words
Characters: Mal, Jayne, Simon, River
Summary: It's a four-man job.
Four jobs - and almost 150 000 platinum later - Simon feels a bit annoyed and a bit betrayed. “You said they weren’t going to catch us,” he whispers to River. He’s sitting in a ship he doesn’t know, his hands are tied behind his back, his cane is nowhere to be seen, and he’s just feeling…peevish. They had been so, so close to their financial goals.
River sighs, a put-upon sound, one that Simon recognizes as frustration that his brain is slower than hers. “They didn’t catch us.”
Simon’s chaffing wrists would suggest otherwise. But River is grinning, and it’s a touch disturbing to see.
She leans in. “We caught them.” And she slips out of her bonds.
*
Later, Simon waits for the lawmen to wake up. They don’t look like much, just another couple of backwater lawmen looking to get paid. Simon wonders what they thought they saw when they had looked at him and River.
River is in the cockpit, on a course that will get them back to their own shuttle in a few hours. Thankfully the lawmen had intercepted them on a supply run, and the shuttle should still be hidden and safe. Even luckier, Simon had finally conceded to River’s concerns about their loot making the shuttle too heavy, and most of their takings are now stashed at a branch of the First Independent bank, property of an apparently respectable young man with a sad past who’s looking to start out fresh.
One of the lawmen stirs, and Simon watches as he opens his eyes and takes in the situation - gagged and bound in his own ship.
“Hello,” Simon says.
The lawman’s eyes narrow.
Simon grins a little, and pulls out a small, delicate knife. He starts to clean his nails. “We’ll just wait until your friend wakes up. We have a proposition for you.”
That is definitely a scowl on the man’s face, even around the gag.
*
The proposition involves a job. Simon is not entirely convinced, but River is. “It’s a four-man job!” she’d explained. “And it could be the last one. We’d get at least 700 000.”
“It’s risky.” Although the thought of no more jobs - of settling somewhere quiet and comfortable and with lots of security, to focus on River’s situation - had been welcome.
“Not with four.”
“Why these two?”
River had rolled her eyes, as though she thought Simon doesn’t trust her. But of course, Simon would be a fool to ever fully trust her.
“He,” she’d pointed at the Browncoat, “hates the Alliance, and is just looking for an excuse. And he,” she’d pointed at the big one, “follows the money. Also, he’s bored. And we need him to carry all the money.”
It had been a good assessment.
River had knelt down in front of them, her hand absently stroking the Browncoat’s leg. “They’re morally questionable.” Turning back to Simon, she’d smiled brightly. “Like me!”
Well, not precisely like her, but Simon had let it go. There’d been a bigger question. “But can they be trusted?”
She’d snorted. “No.” Then she’d moved closer, mouth to his ear, whispering, “But can we?”
*
Simon explains the plan. Long ago, he and River had decided that it’s just best if Simon does the talking when there’s occasion to converse.
The plan is quite good, and involves a slightly larger bank branch and a regularly scheduled cash transport. River had set the broad strokes, and he’d added a few details. After he’s done outlining everything, both lawmen look at him like he’s crazed. Though of course, they haven’t actually spoken with River yet, so they don’t have a great yardstick for measuring sanity. “So?”
The Browncoat - Malcolm Reynolds - River had called him, looks like he wants to speak. So, Simon is courteous, and removes the gag.
“Ain’t the worst plan I’ve ever heard. And what if we say no?”
“Well -”
“Bullet to the brainpan!” River yells from the cockpit. “Squish!”
Simon resists the urge to follow up with maniacal laughter. Instead, he says, “We’ll leave you with a few supplies in the middle of nowhere on some backwards moon.” Which of course implies that there is anything other than backwards moons in the vicinity. “We’re not criminals.”
Reynolds gives him another look, and the other one - Cobb - snorts through his gag.
They do have a point. Simon smiles, and says, “Well, not murderous criminals.”
Well, mostly.
*
Simon shouldn’t be surprised when they agree to the job. He can’t exactly bring himself to trust them, but at least they say yes. It might be a temporary yes, but they can come to that discussion later. If necessary. It helps that River alternates between smiling at them and muttering about knives while staring into corners. It never hurts to keep your criminal associates a little off-balance.
“What’re you gonna do with yer cut?” Cobb asks, as he checks over the guns River had confiscated and has now returned. It’s polite criminal conversation, and Simon is impressed that Cobb bothers. Reynolds, on the other hand, appears to be faking sleep in the corner, arms crossed tightly over his chest. Simon wonders who he thinks he’s fooling.
“Oh, buy an estate, live a life of luxury, you know. The usual.” Fix my sister’s brain, try to encourage her to be a little less of a psychopath. Engage in minimal crime. Just your everyday goals and hopes. “What all fine gentlemen dream of.”
Cobb snorts. “Sure.”
“What about you?” The cut will be quite generous, probably more than this man’s seen in his entire lifetime.
“Guns. Maybe some knives. Ammo.” He grins a little. “Whores.”
From the corner, Simon hears a muttered, “Gorrammit, Jayne.”
“This could be life-changing money.” Simon leans a little closer. “Maybe think about dreaming a little bigger.”
Cobb looks thoughtful for a minute. Simon can practically hear the gears grinding. “Maybe some bigger guns.”
Simon closes his eyes briefly. But who is he to judge? He has a crazy, murderous sister who likes to play games that alternate between hilarious and horrifying. So. He just lets Cobb daydream about weapons and whores.
“And grenades.”
Of course. “What well-armed criminal,” Cobb coughs pointedly, “sorry, lawman, would find himself without grenades?”
“’xactly,” Cobb says, looking satisfied.
*
The plan works. There’s a little mayhem - of course - and at one point Simon finds himself pinned behind a rocky outcropping, sheltering from all the bullets flying his way. His shockwave cane is useless because he hasn’t had a chance to recalibrate it since they hit the bank. The entire situation is somewhat vexing. None of their other jobs were like this.
“None of our other jobs were like this,” he yells at Reynolds. “They were all very smooth!”
“Smooth like your hands?” Reynolds yells back, shooting over the outcropping.
Well, how nice of him to notice. It takes a lot to keep the calluses and scars to a minimum. And also, “Smooth like River and I followed the plan and didn’t deviate or improvise like amateurs who forgot we’re not here to have fun!”
It seems like Reynolds has more he wants to say, but then there’s an explosion from somewhere far in front of them, and Simon hears yelling, the shooting stops, and Reynolds just shakes his head and asks, “Where the hell did Jayne get a gorram grenade?”
Simon doesn’t need to know the answer to that question because right now he’s focussed on results, not process. And anyway, he suspects he really doesn’t want to know.
*
They make it back to their shuttle, and fly Cobb and Reynolds back to where they’d left their own ship. Miracle of miracles, they don’t get betrayed or arrested, although Cobb makes a play for a slightly larger cut, “On account of all the ammo and gear I used savin’ yer asses.”
He has a point. And he did carry more than his share of the money. River doesn’t look murderous at the suggestion, so Simon gives him an extra bag. He’s feeling generous. Relaxed. Maybe even happy, in that smug, satisfied kind of way.
River smirks at him.
“So,” he says to Reynolds, as they stand between the ships and wrap up their business, “What’s next for you?” He can’t help it, he’s feeling conversational. Maybe it’s the sunshine and the decided lack of shooting around them.
Reynolds gives him a funny look.
“Just curious.” It probably isn’t smart to share too many details, but for some reason he just keeps talking. “River and I have enough for a nice estate on Bellerophon now.” It’s good enough to set them up for a long, long time.
“Fancy,” Reynolds.
Fancy and secure. Very, very secure. Which is useful when you have a sister with River’s...proclivities.
Reynolds is still looking at him, like he’s got something on his mind, but he isn’t quite sure what.
Simon doesn’t know what comes over him. Maybe it’s the triumph. Maybe it’s the crime. Maybe it’s the allure of talking with someone who doesn’t switch to speaking in riddles at inopportune times. But it’s something, and it makes him lean into Reynolds, hand on his arm, and say, low and slow, maybe a little bit dirty, “Feel free to visit any time.”
He means it.
End.