magical, wish-granting planks
So I got my Firefly DVDs, and they're shiny and pretty and *yay*!, and also, there is nothing better than listening to Nathan Fillion and Alan Tudyk giggling like ten-year-olds and referencing The Deer Hunter. Well, not a lot of things, anyway.
And it reminded me that about a month ago, I wrote a little snippet of FireflySync for Kristen, because I love her. And Tim Minear. But, you know, I've talked to Kristen, so she gets dibs. Also, Tim might look at me funny when I start talking about JC dressing up all pretty and being a Companion.
On the other hand, Joss *did* say to go forth and write fanfic. What am I gonna do, argue?
'til I found serenity
by Gale
Chris wonders, sometimes, what he sees in Jayce.
Well, no, that's readily apparent. Jayce's clothes are tailored and delicate, sewn by little old ladies who have no other duties in life than to design things for Companions to wear. Guild-slaved, his daddy would've said, if he'd ever met him. His skin is smooth and fair of complexion; his hair never knotted or tangled, always smooth. Pillow-smooth, the kind you'd like to see spread out the next morning when you woke up next to him.
And see, that, that right there, was the problem. Because Chris was a captain and trader, he'd survived the war, and Jayce is a Companion.
Jayce, not to put too fine a point on it (and really, when has that ever stopped Chris before?), is a whore.
Chris has - feelings for a whore.
It was to laugh. If it'd been anyone else, anyway.
And it didn't make him feel one jot or whit better that it went the other way 'round, oh no. If nothing else, that whole business with Britney had proved that it did, in fact, go the other way 'round as well. Jayce hadn't come out of his ship most of the time Britney was there, 'cept to give Chris the rough side of his tongue, and when he *had* come out Britney had been in the middle of trying to steal the ship and there'd apparently been kissing. It must've been a damn fine kiss, the way Jayce flushed and changed the subject all hurried-like whenever someone mentioned it.
It doesn't make a lick of sense, this thing with Jayce. It's not like he's never been with a man before, though the Companion thing is a bit of new business for him. But dancing with Jayce under the watchful eyes of all those heads of state, twirling him around the dance floor while Jayce hissed in his ear and tried to accidentally step on his feet - that was fun. That was more than fun.
Sometimes, he thinks he can still feel Jayce's hands in his own.
And then he shakes his head and dismisses it as too many fumes from whatever Joey's up to in the mess, either that or not enough sleep the night before, because that's just stupid. He's not a poet, and he doesn't really want to be one. Hard enough to keep Justin's head out of the clouds without having to worry about his own joining him up there.
And if he catches himself, every once in a great while, staring at Jayce's hair while they argue in the corridor and wondering what it'd look like spread out over a pillow, well, he's only human.
And it reminded me that about a month ago, I wrote a little snippet of FireflySync for Kristen, because I love her. And Tim Minear. But, you know, I've talked to Kristen, so she gets dibs. Also, Tim might look at me funny when I start talking about JC dressing up all pretty and being a Companion.
On the other hand, Joss *did* say to go forth and write fanfic. What am I gonna do, argue?
'til I found serenity
by Gale
Chris wonders, sometimes, what he sees in Jayce.
Well, no, that's readily apparent. Jayce's clothes are tailored and delicate, sewn by little old ladies who have no other duties in life than to design things for Companions to wear. Guild-slaved, his daddy would've said, if he'd ever met him. His skin is smooth and fair of complexion; his hair never knotted or tangled, always smooth. Pillow-smooth, the kind you'd like to see spread out the next morning when you woke up next to him.
And see, that, that right there, was the problem. Because Chris was a captain and trader, he'd survived the war, and Jayce is a Companion.
Jayce, not to put too fine a point on it (and really, when has that ever stopped Chris before?), is a whore.
Chris has - feelings for a whore.
It was to laugh. If it'd been anyone else, anyway.
And it didn't make him feel one jot or whit better that it went the other way 'round, oh no. If nothing else, that whole business with Britney had proved that it did, in fact, go the other way 'round as well. Jayce hadn't come out of his ship most of the time Britney was there, 'cept to give Chris the rough side of his tongue, and when he *had* come out Britney had been in the middle of trying to steal the ship and there'd apparently been kissing. It must've been a damn fine kiss, the way Jayce flushed and changed the subject all hurried-like whenever someone mentioned it.
It doesn't make a lick of sense, this thing with Jayce. It's not like he's never been with a man before, though the Companion thing is a bit of new business for him. But dancing with Jayce under the watchful eyes of all those heads of state, twirling him around the dance floor while Jayce hissed in his ear and tried to accidentally step on his feet - that was fun. That was more than fun.
Sometimes, he thinks he can still feel Jayce's hands in his own.
And then he shakes his head and dismisses it as too many fumes from whatever Joey's up to in the mess, either that or not enough sleep the night before, because that's just stupid. He's not a poet, and he doesn't really want to be one. Hard enough to keep Justin's head out of the clouds without having to worry about his own joining him up there.
And if he catches himself, every once in a great while, staring at Jayce's hair while they argue in the corridor and wondering what it'd look like spread out over a pillow, well, he's only human.