Series: Finding
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Post-BDM
Disclaimer: Firefly owns me, I own words.
Notes:
ana_grrl came out with a list of prompts some time ago, and then she asked question in the Five Things Meme: Five Times Jayne lost his shirt, and how he felt about it. This is what happened...slight AU at the end...
All Jayne/River stories are in the same storyline, even if seen out of order...
"A hero cannot be a hero unless in a heroic world." - Nathaniel Hawthorne.
ana_grrl prompt
Five times Jayne lost his shirt (and how exactly he felt about it). ana grrl
1. When Little Crazy cut him, sliced his Blue Sun shirt across his chest, he lost a sense in himself of balance. She touched on his sense of safety, scared him. Made the idea of selling them out and going against the Captain’s orders less frightening than what River could do.
2. Before landing on Canton, Jayne tried to tape a gun on to sneak it onto the world. His shirt was tossed by Simon because he left it in the infirmary…Jayne was furious and made sure to smack the back of Simon’s jacket with mud that wouldn’t wash out.
3. Attacking the Skyplex in order to rescue the Captain from torture and death at the hands of Niska, Jayne got clipped along his left side. The shirt was torn and bloodied. He kept the words of the Shepherd in his mind as he led the charge into the Skyplex: If you can’t do something smart, do something right. Didn’t stop the pain of the graze, but it kept him moving forward, knowing the right thing was to get Mal out. Torture ain’t no way for a man to die. Never thought he would find out what it was like to be a hero, not until that moment when a heroic move was what was required.
4. His right shoulder took a round from the Reavers in the attack on Mr. Universe’s station. He felt the tearing burn of the bullet. A moments thought wondering if maybe this would really be it, would this be his last day? The shirt got torn up plenty, but he never stopped firing, knowing he would go down to his last round before giving up. Jayne had found a place to be, a home, a family, and there was no way he was letting something like a bullet aiming to kill him take that away. When Little Crazy stood up and became the woman he had known was there since she sliced him months earlier, he knew he was right.
5. A year later he found out how right he had been when hands unbuttoned a fitted white shirt, pulling the tails from his slacks; hands sure and deft like the umber brown eyes gazing into his. He opened his mouth to speak. Was stopped by a slight narrowing of her eyes. He felt her fingers trail the shirt off his shoulders, leaving his arms still in the sleeves. She drew the shirt around in front of him, holding him still for a moments consideration. She never took her eyes from his as she leaned her slight body close to form herself to his bare chest. She kissed him briefly on the lips, leaving a crimson blush where her lips had lain.
“You still look better in red.”