Firefly - Insomnia
Title: Insomnia
Fandom: Firefly (no timeline)
Word Count:626
Rating: General
A/N: There is no context. All you need to know is that Jayne and Mal are settling down for a two-point watch through the night, and Simon's volunteered. The boys talk.
"I don't know, Mal," said Jayne as he settled down beside the captain, leaning his rifle against the side of his chair. "I don't reckon the doc'll be much help."
"Less'n we get shot," corrected Mal.
Jayne grunted and pocketed a couple extra cartridges as Simon dragged a chair towards them. He raised his voice. "Ain't prissy Core-boys got some sorta respectable curfew? Reckon you oughta be stayin' past your bedtime?" Simon ignored him and sat down to Mal's left. "You're no use to us if you're asleep." finished Jayne in serious tone.
Simon rolled down his sleeves and took his time in answering. "I am a surgeon, you know. Worked thirty-hour shifts at the Shénnóng Trauma Center. I think I’ll manage," said Simon dryly.
"Thirty-hours?" repeated Mal.
"Theoretically, we got to take naps. They weren’t much help. I’d wake up wondering what the plural of 'uterus' was."
"Sounds like you had an intense education."
"What’s so hard about that?" snorted Jayne. "'Ut'ruses'."
"Or 'uteri'," said Simon, "depending on the doctor. 'Uteruses' is more correct, though." He smiled, reminiscing. "Remembering which term to use with whom was just one of their ways of driving interns insane."
"Good thing you held out better than your sister," mused Jayne.
Simon looked to the ground and clenched his jaw. Mal nudged Jayne’s arm, hard. Simon didn’t look up, so Mal continued the conversation. "Weren’t they worried you wouldn’t be able to do your job, all sleepy-like?"
Simon shrugged. "Part of the internship."
"Yeah, well, that ain’t so bad," said Jayne. "I once had to go two weeks with near no sleep, and still had to shoot straight at the end of it."
Mal leaned back in his chair, one foot crossed over his knee. "How was that, Jayne?"
"Once had to share a bunk with a man who’d gotten one of them movin’ tattoo’s."
"Moving?"
"Electrical-like."
"Microchips." Simon looked up. "They're implanted under the skin. Some are temperature sensitive, but most are electrical. They’re powered by impulses generated from muscle contractions."
"To do what?" said Mal, somewhat annoyed at Simon for not being the ignorant one this time.
"They change colour, light up." Simon leaned his chin on his hands, obviously remembering the ones he’d seen. "They make for quite interesting tattoos."
"Huh. I’d have reckoned they’d be more popular, then."
"Them chips are expensive," said Jayne. "The kind of expensive no man in his right mind would blow his pay on when he can find a cheaper option."
Simon cocked his head. "I didn’t know Rim worlds had Dancing Wěn Shēn."
"Don’t. Took a job near the Core." Jayne seemed about to say more but grinned instead. "So this rén takes it into his head to get one of them Cap’ Tatt’s, as some’ll call ‘em -"
"Shénme?" said Simon.
"Capture Tattoo, doc. Get that brain workin'." Simon crossed his arms over his chest and nodded curtly. "So he gets the job done once we’re planet-side, and a fine enough job at that. He got a pair of showgirl tiào wŭ legs going all -" Jayne wiggled two fingers about as a demonstration. "Everything’s shiny ‘till we’re on our way to Bellerophon, weeks from the nearest rock, and the gorram chips short-circuit."
Simon gave a chuckle. At Mal’s questioning look, he just grinned and shook his head. Once again, Mal was sorely out of the loop. "So?" he said. "What happened?"
"Ruttin’ tatt’s lit up our bunk like a night-club for two whole weeks, that’s what happened." Jayne pointed a finger at Mal emphatically. "Had to wait ‘till the job was done with before Mick could find a Cap’ artist."
"Did he manage to get it fixed?" said Simon.
"Naw." Jayne scratched his head. "He got another tatt’ over it somewhat, and the chips kept misfiring less 'n' less." He stretched a leg out. "'Course, Mick didn’t last long after that, not with a walking bull's eye on his arm. Got took out on a night-run." Jayne settled deeper into his chair with a smile. "I slept like a dead dog that night. Had the bunk all to myself, too."
"Women’s legs’ll do that do a man," mused Mal. The other two men didn’t respond at first as they thought it over.
Simon broke the silence first. "They’ll get you shot?"
"Keep you up all night?"
Mal sighed. "All of the above."
Shénnóng - "Divine Farmer", Emperor of China and culture hero who reputedly taught the ancients agriculture and medicine.
wěn shēn - tattoo
rén - man
tiào wŭ - dancing
shénme - What? I'm sorry?
capture - a video-postcard, like this one here. A bit like Harry Potter's wizard photographs, then.
Fandom: Firefly (no timeline)
Word Count:626
Rating: General
A/N: There is no context. All you need to know is that Jayne and Mal are settling down for a two-point watch through the night, and Simon's volunteered. The boys talk.
"I don't know, Mal," said Jayne as he settled down beside the captain, leaning his rifle against the side of his chair. "I don't reckon the doc'll be much help."
"Less'n we get shot," corrected Mal.
Jayne grunted and pocketed a couple extra cartridges as Simon dragged a chair towards them. He raised his voice. "Ain't prissy Core-boys got some sorta respectable curfew? Reckon you oughta be stayin' past your bedtime?" Simon ignored him and sat down to Mal's left. "You're no use to us if you're asleep." finished Jayne in serious tone.
Simon rolled down his sleeves and took his time in answering. "I am a surgeon, you know. Worked thirty-hour shifts at the Shénnóng Trauma Center. I think I’ll manage," said Simon dryly.
"Thirty-hours?" repeated Mal.
"Theoretically, we got to take naps. They weren’t much help. I’d wake up wondering what the plural of 'uterus' was."
"Sounds like you had an intense education."
"What’s so hard about that?" snorted Jayne. "'Ut'ruses'."
"Or 'uteri'," said Simon, "depending on the doctor. 'Uteruses' is more correct, though." He smiled, reminiscing. "Remembering which term to use with whom was just one of their ways of driving interns insane."
"Good thing you held out better than your sister," mused Jayne.
Simon looked to the ground and clenched his jaw. Mal nudged Jayne’s arm, hard. Simon didn’t look up, so Mal continued the conversation. "Weren’t they worried you wouldn’t be able to do your job, all sleepy-like?"
Simon shrugged. "Part of the internship."
"Yeah, well, that ain’t so bad," said Jayne. "I once had to go two weeks with near no sleep, and still had to shoot straight at the end of it."
Mal leaned back in his chair, one foot crossed over his knee. "How was that, Jayne?"
"Once had to share a bunk with a man who’d gotten one of them movin’ tattoo’s."
"Moving?"
"Electrical-like."
"Microchips." Simon looked up. "They're implanted under the skin. Some are temperature sensitive, but most are electrical. They’re powered by impulses generated from muscle contractions."
"To do what?" said Mal, somewhat annoyed at Simon for not being the ignorant one this time.
"They change colour, light up." Simon leaned his chin on his hands, obviously remembering the ones he’d seen. "They make for quite interesting tattoos."
"Huh. I’d have reckoned they’d be more popular, then."
"Them chips are expensive," said Jayne. "The kind of expensive no man in his right mind would blow his pay on when he can find a cheaper option."
Simon cocked his head. "I didn’t know Rim worlds had Dancing Wěn Shēn."
"Don’t. Took a job near the Core." Jayne seemed about to say more but grinned instead. "So this rén takes it into his head to get one of them Cap’ Tatt’s, as some’ll call ‘em -"
"Shénme?" said Simon.
"Capture Tattoo, doc. Get that brain workin'." Simon crossed his arms over his chest and nodded curtly. "So he gets the job done once we’re planet-side, and a fine enough job at that. He got a pair of showgirl tiào wŭ legs going all -" Jayne wiggled two fingers about as a demonstration. "Everything’s shiny ‘till we’re on our way to Bellerophon, weeks from the nearest rock, and the gorram chips short-circuit."
Simon gave a chuckle. At Mal’s questioning look, he just grinned and shook his head. Once again, Mal was sorely out of the loop. "So?" he said. "What happened?"
"Ruttin’ tatt’s lit up our bunk like a night-club for two whole weeks, that’s what happened." Jayne pointed a finger at Mal emphatically. "Had to wait ‘till the job was done with before Mick could find a Cap’ artist."
"Did he manage to get it fixed?" said Simon.
"Naw." Jayne scratched his head. "He got another tatt’ over it somewhat, and the chips kept misfiring less 'n' less." He stretched a leg out. "'Course, Mick didn’t last long after that, not with a walking bull's eye on his arm. Got took out on a night-run." Jayne settled deeper into his chair with a smile. "I slept like a dead dog that night. Had the bunk all to myself, too."
"Women’s legs’ll do that do a man," mused Mal. The other two men didn’t respond at first as they thought it over.
Simon broke the silence first. "They’ll get you shot?"
"Keep you up all night?"
Mal sighed. "All of the above."
Shénnóng - "Divine Farmer", Emperor of China and culture hero who reputedly taught the ancients agriculture and medicine.
wěn shēn - tattoo
rén - man
tiào wŭ - dancing
shénme - What? I'm sorry?
capture - a video-postcard, like this one here. A bit like Harry Potter's wizard photographs, then.