Possibly pre-Rayne fic
Have allegedly committed fic. I've had bunnies a-plenty ever since I joined the Rayne-ship and one of them had me go as far as committing pen to paper (and subsequently fingers to keyboard). Thing is, I'm not sure about it. I'm not so hot with the humour, which is a big part of the Firefly fandom. And I just happen to prefer the two characters that I have great trouble getting inside the heads of, therfore I'm pretty sure that the voice is all wrong.
Anyway, I'm posting it. I may appeal to one of the more seasoned firefly writers to cast their experienced eyes over it an perhaps give me some pointers.
I do have more to this - a couple of other follow-on ficlets, providing absolutely no resolution whatsoever, so perhaps it will see more coherent and cohesive in entirity....
Or maybe not.
Title: River's Relapse
Author: esclaramonde
Disclaimer: Do I look like Joss Whedon to you?
Rating: PG (?)
Summary: River has a little shock, that may have broken her brain
Pairings: pre-Rayne
Notes: Post series and movie - approx 2yrs
Unbeta'd because I am a scaredy-cat. All errors are the property of moi.
This is my first firefly fic (in case you missed all the whining up there *points*. So Concrit is welcome, requested, and will be rewarded with me as your adoring disciple.
River paused at the door to her bunk, one foot firm on the catwalk, the other resting delicately on the rung. She cocked her head slightly, eyes half-lidded. Was that.... whistling? Someone down the corridor was whistling a jaunty little tune. She had thought that she was the last to go to bed, having taken extra time to confirm their course and set the auto-pilot for the evening. Her muscles tensed with the memory of another interloper who had invaded their vessel years ago. She opened her mind to sense -
Jayne?
Jayne. In quite a cheery mood, it seemed.
Hmph.
River relaxed. Perhaps - some years ago now - Jayne could have been considered her enemy. Simon had certainly thought so in the aftermath of the Ariel debacle. River herself had a different perspective on the merc. His actions had always been about protecting his family. He’d had visions of ‘the moonbrain girl weildin’ a knife - or summat worse - at Inara, or his li’l Kaylee’. Of course, the money hadn’t hurt none neither.
But that was more than two years ago now, and Jayne had a very different relationship with the Tams. Of course, he still mercilessly teased the prissy doctor, but frankly that was as popular a pastime on Serenity as hoop ball or throwing shoes.
River smirked. She had been fortunate enough to forge a different relationship with the ship’s gruff merc. Their tentative truce had begun as they worked together to repair the horrific damage done to Serenity on Mr Universe’s moon. Although, River privately felt that the truce had started when those blast doors had opened to reveal her surrounded by a horde of dead and bloodied Reavers. Jayne Cobb was a pragmatist at heart, and there weren’t no point in carryin’ on a feud with a Crazy-Girl who weren’t Crazy no more. ‘Specially not one who could grind him into protein powder if she chose.
She wasn’t just crew now, she too was family. He treated her the same as he treated Zoe: tough; a fighter; worthy of respect. He treated her like Kaylee too - a little sister to tease and protect.
River turned, anticipating Jayne’s arrival at the bunk door next to hers, and opened her mouth to bid him goodnight before climbing into her own bunk. When she saw him, her mouth stayed open, all words forgotten.
Jayne.
There, that was a word. Apparently her brain was working again after that unsettling hiccup.
Towel.
Another one. Well done, River. Try for three syllables next.
Jayne Towel. JayneTowel jaynetoweljaynetoweljaynetowel.
Some small part of River was appalled at her sudden lack of coherence, but the rest was busy with slack-jawed admiration of the masculine specimen before her.
Jayne.
In a Towel.
Only a towel, knotted at his hip, and only barely providing a semblance of modesty.
River closed her mouth with a snap, intending - honestly intending - to apologise, wish Jayne sweet dreams and scramble down into her bunk. She was distracted from her honest intent by a small bead of water that trickled from his still-wet hair. It traveled down the side of his throat, navigating the stubble of his beard. It crested his collar bone, and veered to the left, wending its way through his water-laden chest-hair and over the hard expanse of his pectoral muscle.
It teasingly skimmed the caramel areole of his nipple, puckered slightly in Serenity’s cool atmosphere, and then raced down the slope of his pec towards the rippled planes of his stomach. Egged on by its fellow droplets, the water-bead gathered speed, careening over the hard musculature, dodging the sparse, dark masculine hairs, and plunged joyfully into his belly button.
River stared at that small dimple of flesh, transfixed. A pink kitten-tongue peeped out from between her teeth to caress and wet her upper lip. The droplet crept shyly out of his belly-button, and undulated gracefully through the fine ‘happy trail’ of hairs on his lower abdomen before dissolving, disintegrating, melding into the fibres of the damp white towel.
River closed her eyes briefly, her body awash with a heated flush, capillaries opening, dermis tingling. Blushing, she raised her eyes to look at the merc, expecting him to be smug at her lack of control, or perhaps angry that she had ogled him so blatantly. She met his laser-blue gaze, surprised to see him not angry, merely bemused. And....concerned? He hadn’t noticed her visually devouring him, he was worried that she was in the middle of some kind of crazy-relapse.
Guilt flooded River. Yet even with the shameful feeling twisting in her stomach, she could still feel the thrum of her body, desiring this man.
“’Night, Janye” she managed to croak out. She climbed onto the ladder that led to her bunk. Jayne responded with a low rumble, but didn’t move. “Sleep tight.” Her brain blank with mortification, the words poured out of River before she could stop them. “Don’t let the space-bugs bite. If they bite, squeeze them tight.”
She scrambled down the ladder in an unprecedented show of gracelessness, and slammed the bunk door shut. River rested her head against the cold metal of her bunk wall, trying to cool the heated flush on her cheeks, and barely resisting the urge to pound her skull against it.
Moron.
The space-bug rhyme?
Ai ya!
Anyway, I'm posting it. I may appeal to one of the more seasoned firefly writers to cast their experienced eyes over it an perhaps give me some pointers.
I do have more to this - a couple of other follow-on ficlets, providing absolutely no resolution whatsoever, so perhaps it will see more coherent and cohesive in entirity....
Or maybe not.
Title: River's Relapse
Author: esclaramonde
Disclaimer: Do I look like Joss Whedon to you?
Rating: PG (?)
Summary: River has a little shock, that may have broken her brain
Pairings: pre-Rayne
Notes: Post series and movie - approx 2yrs
Unbeta'd because I am a scaredy-cat. All errors are the property of moi.
This is my first firefly fic (in case you missed all the whining up there *points*. So Concrit is welcome, requested, and will be rewarded with me as your adoring disciple.
River paused at the door to her bunk, one foot firm on the catwalk, the other resting delicately on the rung. She cocked her head slightly, eyes half-lidded. Was that.... whistling? Someone down the corridor was whistling a jaunty little tune. She had thought that she was the last to go to bed, having taken extra time to confirm their course and set the auto-pilot for the evening. Her muscles tensed with the memory of another interloper who had invaded their vessel years ago. She opened her mind to sense -
Jayne?
Jayne. In quite a cheery mood, it seemed.
Hmph.
River relaxed. Perhaps - some years ago now - Jayne could have been considered her enemy. Simon had certainly thought so in the aftermath of the Ariel debacle. River herself had a different perspective on the merc. His actions had always been about protecting his family. He’d had visions of ‘the moonbrain girl weildin’ a knife - or summat worse - at Inara, or his li’l Kaylee’. Of course, the money hadn’t hurt none neither.
But that was more than two years ago now, and Jayne had a very different relationship with the Tams. Of course, he still mercilessly teased the prissy doctor, but frankly that was as popular a pastime on Serenity as hoop ball or throwing shoes.
River smirked. She had been fortunate enough to forge a different relationship with the ship’s gruff merc. Their tentative truce had begun as they worked together to repair the horrific damage done to Serenity on Mr Universe’s moon. Although, River privately felt that the truce had started when those blast doors had opened to reveal her surrounded by a horde of dead and bloodied Reavers. Jayne Cobb was a pragmatist at heart, and there weren’t no point in carryin’ on a feud with a Crazy-Girl who weren’t Crazy no more. ‘Specially not one who could grind him into protein powder if she chose.
She wasn’t just crew now, she too was family. He treated her the same as he treated Zoe: tough; a fighter; worthy of respect. He treated her like Kaylee too - a little sister to tease and protect.
River turned, anticipating Jayne’s arrival at the bunk door next to hers, and opened her mouth to bid him goodnight before climbing into her own bunk. When she saw him, her mouth stayed open, all words forgotten.
Jayne.
There, that was a word. Apparently her brain was working again after that unsettling hiccup.
Towel.
Another one. Well done, River. Try for three syllables next.
Jayne Towel. JayneTowel jaynetoweljaynetoweljaynetowel.
Some small part of River was appalled at her sudden lack of coherence, but the rest was busy with slack-jawed admiration of the masculine specimen before her.
Jayne.
In a Towel.
Only a towel, knotted at his hip, and only barely providing a semblance of modesty.
River closed her mouth with a snap, intending - honestly intending - to apologise, wish Jayne sweet dreams and scramble down into her bunk. She was distracted from her honest intent by a small bead of water that trickled from his still-wet hair. It traveled down the side of his throat, navigating the stubble of his beard. It crested his collar bone, and veered to the left, wending its way through his water-laden chest-hair and over the hard expanse of his pectoral muscle.
It teasingly skimmed the caramel areole of his nipple, puckered slightly in Serenity’s cool atmosphere, and then raced down the slope of his pec towards the rippled planes of his stomach. Egged on by its fellow droplets, the water-bead gathered speed, careening over the hard musculature, dodging the sparse, dark masculine hairs, and plunged joyfully into his belly button.
River stared at that small dimple of flesh, transfixed. A pink kitten-tongue peeped out from between her teeth to caress and wet her upper lip. The droplet crept shyly out of his belly-button, and undulated gracefully through the fine ‘happy trail’ of hairs on his lower abdomen before dissolving, disintegrating, melding into the fibres of the damp white towel.
River closed her eyes briefly, her body awash with a heated flush, capillaries opening, dermis tingling. Blushing, she raised her eyes to look at the merc, expecting him to be smug at her lack of control, or perhaps angry that she had ogled him so blatantly. She met his laser-blue gaze, surprised to see him not angry, merely bemused. And....concerned? He hadn’t noticed her visually devouring him, he was worried that she was in the middle of some kind of crazy-relapse.
Guilt flooded River. Yet even with the shameful feeling twisting in her stomach, she could still feel the thrum of her body, desiring this man.
“’Night, Janye” she managed to croak out. She climbed onto the ladder that led to her bunk. Jayne responded with a low rumble, but didn’t move. “Sleep tight.” Her brain blank with mortification, the words poured out of River before she could stop them. “Don’t let the space-bugs bite. If they bite, squeeze them tight.”
She scrambled down the ladder in an unprecedented show of gracelessness, and slammed the bunk door shut. River rested her head against the cold metal of her bunk wall, trying to cool the heated flush on her cheeks, and barely resisting the urge to pound her skull against it.
Moron.
The space-bug rhyme?
Ai ya!