"Twelve Days" (9/12) for little_dumpling
Written as part of the serenity_santa ficathon, for little_dumpling's prompt: A Jayne/Mal or Jayne/Simon secret santa themed fic in which Jayne leaves Secret Santa gifts for the other. The other can find out or not, your choice, if they do I would like cuddling to be involved. Does not need to be over PG-13 rating.
Twelve Days (9/12)
Author: _beetle_
Pairing: Simon/Jayne, (past Simon/Kaylee alluded to)
Rating: R
Notes: Set post-Serenity by one year.
Summary: Twelve drabbles, written for each of the Twelve Days of Christmas, one drabble to be added to this comm daily from Dec 25 through January 5. Previous days are here, and all the gifts are all clickable.
On the Ninth Day of Christmas, his true love gave to him. . . .
"You're--" the Doc throws his hands up "--a pig-ape-gone-wrong-thing, and you are not taking me to some yu ben de strip-club!"
"The Bare Naked Lady ain't stupid.” Jayne glares, and dares: “Plus, you liked them other gifts well enough.”
Just then the gorramn pigeon squawks in its fancy cage.
Simon sighs, clever fingers drumming on his desk. He wears the rings on a plain gold chain, hidden. More sensible than Jayne woulda once gave him credit for. “Okay. But only for a few minutes.”
Jayne smirks.
Them nine lapdances'll be the most cunning gift yet.
On the Tenth Day of Christmas, his true love gave to him. . . .
Twelve Days (9/12)
Author: _beetle_
Pairing: Simon/Jayne, (past Simon/Kaylee alluded to)
Rating: R
Notes: Set post-Serenity by one year.
Summary: Twelve drabbles, written for each of the Twelve Days of Christmas, one drabble to be added to this comm daily from Dec 25 through January 5. Previous days are here, and all the gifts are all clickable.
On the Ninth Day of Christmas, his true love gave to him. . . .
"You're--" the Doc throws his hands up "--a pig-ape-gone-wrong-thing, and you are not taking me to some yu ben de strip-club!"
"The Bare Naked Lady ain't stupid.” Jayne glares, and dares: “Plus, you liked them other gifts well enough.”
Just then the gorramn pigeon squawks in its fancy cage.
Simon sighs, clever fingers drumming on his desk. He wears the rings on a plain gold chain, hidden. More sensible than Jayne woulda once gave him credit for. “Okay. But only for a few minutes.”
Jayne smirks.
Them nine lapdances'll be the most cunning gift yet.
On the Tenth Day of Christmas, his true love gave to him. . . .