caring is sharing and sharing is caring?
Title: Relish It
Fandom: Firefly
Character, Pairing: Jayne, Jayne/Mal
Rating: not explicit, swearing
Disclaimer: Joss, Joss, Joss's!
Notes: Alternate Universe, first person narrative
Written for the shiny_hats Summer ficathon. My prompt was: "Lend me some sugar, I am your neighbor!"
Relish It
Was a fighter, once. Maybe you heard a me?
Jayne Cobb.
Aw, fuck off. I know you heard a me, don't even try and lie.
Man or monster, they used to say. Which is he? Put me in the ring and I ain't got no conscience.
No conscience at all, I'll hit you till you can't breathe, till you bleed out of every hole in your gorram body.
Nothing personal. I just do whatever it takes to win.
And I did win.
Oh, and hear we go. You fuckers never let me tell much of the glory. You just want to get right to the point: how I fell. I can't tell you why, I don't understand it myself.
One night I started to feel sick in the ring. Can't explain it. Finished my fight and, though I was tired as hell, I won. Threw up, though, before I went to bed. When I woke up in the morning everything was blurry, my head aching. Got myself to the doctor, but he couldn't find nothing wrong. Went back home, still tired, went back to sleep. Woke up in the middle of the night and there was a stiffness on the right side of my body. Hard to move my arm, hard to move my leg, and it's been that way ever since. There. I told ya all I can. You don't need to ask me no more questions.
I tell you, though, I don't have much coin these days. Don't know if you might spare me some? No? That's alright, I won't hold it against ya. Buy me a drink at least, will you? Come on, don't you wanna tell the grandkids you drank with a legend?
No, I ain't no legend now. But a man ain't only what he is today. When I die, they won't remember me like I am now, they'll remember me like I was. When I die, they'll call me a hero again. Can you say the same?
Whiskey. Straight up. Fill that fucker to the top.
Much obliged.
To your health, motherfucker. To your health.
You think people be good to you, you ever get hurt? Let me tell you, sweetheart, they'll try and knock you down all the more.
The verse hates a cripple. It ain't fair, but it's the truth.
Can't tell you how many times I hear whispers when I make my way by, always move as quick as I can when the bullshit starts, but how the fuck can I move fast when I got to drag half my body along? So I got no choice but to hear em say: "You see that? Once a champion, now a bum."
Yeah, and don't ever run across those who think you did them wrong. All them men I beat in the ring, they go out of their way to find me, laugh in my face, spit at my feet.
Gorram cowards. If a miracle ever did happen and the Lord saw fit to bring the strength back to my body, I could knock them down with one blow. Even now, I don't take no lip. You talk shit to me and I'm gonna start swinging. Believe me, I may not look so tough as I did, but I can still take you on if you insist on startin something.
I lived a life you never coulda even dreamed.
I earned me the reputation 'notorious' on every single core planet.
I trashed the most luxurious hotels.
I ate everything on the menu at the finest restaurants.
I drank myself sick at the wildest speakeasies.
I danced with the most beautiful girls while the greatest bands played.
I whored round with the finest companions.
I heard thousands cheer and chant my name.
I drew crowds every time I stepped out into the street.
I dropped two hundred and fifty seven men down to their knees.
I set records that'll never be broke.
And I enjoyed ever gorram second of it.
A man needs sweetness in his life. A man should take it wherever he gorram finds it, and he ain't got to ask nice for it, neither.
Any nice thing we can get our hands on, we share. Knock on the other's door and say, "Got something tasty."
We drink, we smoke, we tell stories and laugh. Feels like I've known him a long time. Been a long time since I had a friend. Right now it's just the two of us renting rooms on the fifth floor of this shitty boarding house.
"What's your sob story?" I ask him, late one night as we empty a box of cigars and a bottle of bootleg bourbon.
"Who says I got one?"
"Nobody ends up here wants to be here."
He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms in front of him. "Had a ship. Had a crew. Lost em both. And that's all I'm gonna say about it."
"I ain't interested in what you lost. Tell me what it was like when you had what you wanted. Tell me about those days when you had it all."
And he does.
Tonight I ain't feelin so well. My sight's fuzzier than usual, my head pounds more, my right side feels like it's shriveling, withering. Like it's dying.
When Mal comes in and tells me he's heard about a new place downtown where they're letting everyone in free till midnight, I tell him that unless he can throw me over his shoulder and carry me there, I ain't gonna be able.
He's got smokes, I've got some scotch and a set of Mah Jong tiles, and we'll just have to make do with that to amuse ourselves.
Night gets late, and I find myself dozing off. "I think I should stay here," Mal says. "You ain't well and you might need something, might need help."
"Might," I agree, and move over so there's room for him on the bed. He takes off his suspenders and his shirt and I see scars I plan to ask him about someday. "Get the light."
Me and Mal just lie there, he in his pants, me covered up by the sheet, just lie there and talk a little more about nothing, just to hear another voice in the dark.
In the morning, I wake up when I feel him get out of bed. He pulls up the shade, and I groan and cover my eyes with my forearm.
"You feel any better?"
"Yeah." He knows the right question, knows what to focus on. Do I feel good? Hell no. But I do feel better and that has to count for something.
"You hungry?"
"Give me a horse and I'll eat it down to the bones."
"Glad to hear it. Know a man runs a diner across town and he owes me a favor. Think we can get a good breakfast for free. I'm talking steak, eggs, toast, coffee, taters, baked apples, all of it."
"Did I die? Is this heaven?"
"It's the town of Desolation, and if all you want out of paradise is a decent meal, you're the simplest man I ever met." I turn over to my bad side so I can use my strong arm to lift me up. "You need any help?"
"Naw." But once I get myself sitting on the side of the bed, he comes over with my clothes anyway, helps me get my shirt on, bends down to his knees so he can lift my right foot up and slip a sock on it, put it in its boot.
"Mal," I say, after he finishes. He's still down at my feet, and I don't know why but I rest my left hand on his shoulder, stroke the side of his neck with my thumb. Once, and he sighs. Twice, and he closes his eyes. Three times, and he brings his own hand up to cover mine, stop its movement.
"Tickles," he mutters, and I let go, pull back. And for a moment all I can feel is how tired I am and it scares me. "Hey," he says, like he knows what I'm thinking. "It's alright. You'll see. It's gonna be alright."
Don't know who he's really speaking to, me or himself. But I echo it back, just the same, to myself, to him. "Yeah, yeah. Everything's shiny. Everything's shiny. Let's get going." He stands, holds his hands out and helps pull me to my feet.
Sometimes you win a fight no one woulda bet you could.
I don't ever call it over. Even when the punch knocks me off my feet, even when I crash to the floor.
I give myself a moment and then I charge right back.
And no one's luckier than the man who's got someone in his corner who'll help lift him up.
One more round, my friend. One more round.
Fandom: Firefly
Character, Pairing: Jayne, Jayne/Mal
Rating: not explicit, swearing
Disclaimer: Joss, Joss, Joss's!
Notes: Alternate Universe, first person narrative
Written for the shiny_hats Summer ficathon. My prompt was: "Lend me some sugar, I am your neighbor!"
Relish It
Was a fighter, once. Maybe you heard a me?
Jayne Cobb.
Aw, fuck off. I know you heard a me, don't even try and lie.
Man or monster, they used to say. Which is he? Put me in the ring and I ain't got no conscience.
No conscience at all, I'll hit you till you can't breathe, till you bleed out of every hole in your gorram body.
Nothing personal. I just do whatever it takes to win.
And I did win.
Oh, and hear we go. You fuckers never let me tell much of the glory. You just want to get right to the point: how I fell. I can't tell you why, I don't understand it myself.
One night I started to feel sick in the ring. Can't explain it. Finished my fight and, though I was tired as hell, I won. Threw up, though, before I went to bed. When I woke up in the morning everything was blurry, my head aching. Got myself to the doctor, but he couldn't find nothing wrong. Went back home, still tired, went back to sleep. Woke up in the middle of the night and there was a stiffness on the right side of my body. Hard to move my arm, hard to move my leg, and it's been that way ever since. There. I told ya all I can. You don't need to ask me no more questions.
I tell you, though, I don't have much coin these days. Don't know if you might spare me some? No? That's alright, I won't hold it against ya. Buy me a drink at least, will you? Come on, don't you wanna tell the grandkids you drank with a legend?
No, I ain't no legend now. But a man ain't only what he is today. When I die, they won't remember me like I am now, they'll remember me like I was. When I die, they'll call me a hero again. Can you say the same?
Whiskey. Straight up. Fill that fucker to the top.
Much obliged.
To your health, motherfucker. To your health.
You think people be good to you, you ever get hurt? Let me tell you, sweetheart, they'll try and knock you down all the more.
The verse hates a cripple. It ain't fair, but it's the truth.
Can't tell you how many times I hear whispers when I make my way by, always move as quick as I can when the bullshit starts, but how the fuck can I move fast when I got to drag half my body along? So I got no choice but to hear em say: "You see that? Once a champion, now a bum."
Yeah, and don't ever run across those who think you did them wrong. All them men I beat in the ring, they go out of their way to find me, laugh in my face, spit at my feet.
Gorram cowards. If a miracle ever did happen and the Lord saw fit to bring the strength back to my body, I could knock them down with one blow. Even now, I don't take no lip. You talk shit to me and I'm gonna start swinging. Believe me, I may not look so tough as I did, but I can still take you on if you insist on startin something.
I lived a life you never coulda even dreamed.
I earned me the reputation 'notorious' on every single core planet.
I trashed the most luxurious hotels.
I ate everything on the menu at the finest restaurants.
I drank myself sick at the wildest speakeasies.
I danced with the most beautiful girls while the greatest bands played.
I whored round with the finest companions.
I heard thousands cheer and chant my name.
I drew crowds every time I stepped out into the street.
I dropped two hundred and fifty seven men down to their knees.
I set records that'll never be broke.
And I enjoyed ever gorram second of it.
A man needs sweetness in his life. A man should take it wherever he gorram finds it, and he ain't got to ask nice for it, neither.
Any nice thing we can get our hands on, we share. Knock on the other's door and say, "Got something tasty."
We drink, we smoke, we tell stories and laugh. Feels like I've known him a long time. Been a long time since I had a friend. Right now it's just the two of us renting rooms on the fifth floor of this shitty boarding house.
"What's your sob story?" I ask him, late one night as we empty a box of cigars and a bottle of bootleg bourbon.
"Who says I got one?"
"Nobody ends up here wants to be here."
He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms in front of him. "Had a ship. Had a crew. Lost em both. And that's all I'm gonna say about it."
"I ain't interested in what you lost. Tell me what it was like when you had what you wanted. Tell me about those days when you had it all."
And he does.
Tonight I ain't feelin so well. My sight's fuzzier than usual, my head pounds more, my right side feels like it's shriveling, withering. Like it's dying.
When Mal comes in and tells me he's heard about a new place downtown where they're letting everyone in free till midnight, I tell him that unless he can throw me over his shoulder and carry me there, I ain't gonna be able.
He's got smokes, I've got some scotch and a set of Mah Jong tiles, and we'll just have to make do with that to amuse ourselves.
Night gets late, and I find myself dozing off. "I think I should stay here," Mal says. "You ain't well and you might need something, might need help."
"Might," I agree, and move over so there's room for him on the bed. He takes off his suspenders and his shirt and I see scars I plan to ask him about someday. "Get the light."
Me and Mal just lie there, he in his pants, me covered up by the sheet, just lie there and talk a little more about nothing, just to hear another voice in the dark.
In the morning, I wake up when I feel him get out of bed. He pulls up the shade, and I groan and cover my eyes with my forearm.
"You feel any better?"
"Yeah." He knows the right question, knows what to focus on. Do I feel good? Hell no. But I do feel better and that has to count for something.
"You hungry?"
"Give me a horse and I'll eat it down to the bones."
"Glad to hear it. Know a man runs a diner across town and he owes me a favor. Think we can get a good breakfast for free. I'm talking steak, eggs, toast, coffee, taters, baked apples, all of it."
"Did I die? Is this heaven?"
"It's the town of Desolation, and if all you want out of paradise is a decent meal, you're the simplest man I ever met." I turn over to my bad side so I can use my strong arm to lift me up. "You need any help?"
"Naw." But once I get myself sitting on the side of the bed, he comes over with my clothes anyway, helps me get my shirt on, bends down to his knees so he can lift my right foot up and slip a sock on it, put it in its boot.
"Mal," I say, after he finishes. He's still down at my feet, and I don't know why but I rest my left hand on his shoulder, stroke the side of his neck with my thumb. Once, and he sighs. Twice, and he closes his eyes. Three times, and he brings his own hand up to cover mine, stop its movement.
"Tickles," he mutters, and I let go, pull back. And for a moment all I can feel is how tired I am and it scares me. "Hey," he says, like he knows what I'm thinking. "It's alright. You'll see. It's gonna be alright."
Don't know who he's really speaking to, me or himself. But I echo it back, just the same, to myself, to him. "Yeah, yeah. Everything's shiny. Everything's shiny. Let's get going." He stands, holds his hands out and helps pull me to my feet.
Sometimes you win a fight no one woulda bet you could.
I don't ever call it over. Even when the punch knocks me off my feet, even when I crash to the floor.
I give myself a moment and then I charge right back.
And no one's luckier than the man who's got someone in his corner who'll help lift him up.
One more round, my friend. One more round.