The Measure of a Jayne, Part 1

Pairing: Jayne n' Kaylee (or Jaylee to us unwashed initiates out there.)

Gratitude galore to jing zi Betas including Jacqui, Belasera and Venamoon. I have been blessed by their knowledge and suggestions. Any and all existing errors are purely due to my own stubbornness.

Disclaimer: I don’t own nothin’ to do with Firefly. Joss is omniscient and his is the head from which my idols sprang, fully grown, muscles-flexin’. I just make them strike a pose and vogue some. God, I'm scared since this is my first fic. Wonder if Joss ever feels these jitters...

Rating and rambling: NC17 darlings. Whine not later on, for the warning klaxon is sounded before ever your peepers rest on the pervy syllables. What we’ve got ourselves here, besides a failure to communicate, is a long smutty Jaylee fic. I’m new and tender at this author business, (first ever fanfic) so please be gentle or I’ll crawl off somewhere quiet-like and duct tape my fingers so as to keep from using the keyboard again. And, dear readers, I need that keyboard to get help rassling Jayne up onto the monitor and outta my brain so he will lemme sleep un-molested. Slightly less molested. Okay, molested but bleary-eyed and too tired to struggle due to so much typing. On with it, then, and off with the clothes.


The Measure of a Jayne

Preface:

There’d been thoughts. No reason to say any different. Thoughts sprung from the way she smells, hot sweat, engine grease all girl moist. The way she walks, rolling ship in a gale hips all unconscious grace. Kaylee was, Kaylee is…all things Woman heat to Jayne.
He’s been from the corest of the worlds to the blackest black and put tab A into slot B (or into C or D) at a lot of stops in between so it ain’t as if he’s had trifling few to compare her to. But the softness, the Woman that the merc sees on the outside of this girl and on the inside too calls to the hardness of the man.

He’s afeared that… no, he knows the winsome mechanic’s always leaned toward the doc with the purty mouth, but that man’s leanin’s were all toward doctorin’ his crazy brain sister. Avoiding playin’ doctor with a more than willing lil’ Kaylee was something Serenity’s resident physician was too shee-niou stupid to realize weren’t no kind of smart. But Jayne. Jayne’s got a fever, one the doctor don’t have no meds for.

And the only prescription is more Kaylee.

Present day:

He’s gotta have him some Kaylee, can’t let nothing stop him and that surely means puzzling out gorram fecking soon how to get her to see how a muscley henchman is a remedy she has a like-need for. How he’s gonna do that while simultaneously bandaged and bleeding and too slowly recoverin’ in his least favorite ship environs (the medlab), well, that’s the damn rub.

Time was, laid up in previous injurious-like conditions, he’d a-wanted, above all things, to be in his bunk surrounded by his things. That was back when his onlyest thoughts of Kaylee were obscenity-wrapped prayers enjoining a mere scruffy girl to keep this piece of fei oo bird flying.

Since she weren’t but a half-growed farmgirl, Zoe was married and the Companion’s fees were far beyond his even darin’ to ask, it had appeared there weren’t no available females on board nor any likelihood of ‘em joining. The result was Jayne’d slammed a hatch tight over his need for woman-flesh, woman-heat.

He weren’t averse to openin’ up that place in him whenever they touched dirt-down, never havin’ a lick of trouble finding a willing woman dirt-side to wrap his needful self around like a quilt. Once the ol’ in and out’n was done and the boat grabbed sky again toward the next heist, his lair was a right perfect place to be, a sure-fire cure, no need for anything else in creation.

Cloth covered the only faithful women in his life, rough upper edge of muslin pulled down so’s he could be voyeur to his own weapons cache. The hard reassuring diamond gleam of Vera and the lesser concubines smiled and beckoned to him from an oil perfumed nest.

‘Long as he took perfect care of them and they were near to his hand, god was on his throne and Jayne was pert near body-able to fetch any one of ‘em up and rain down hell well-heeled if the need arose or if he just plain felt like it, gorramit.

Okay, so that image of RoboJayne could right now be more than a tetch of wishful-thinking, seein’ as how he’s been fed nothin’ but pap and clear broth for days and ain’t been able to take a piss on account of throwin’ up that go se they shoved down him, nothin’ left to pee out. Jayne don’t ken science much, but he knows ain’t no piss if they ain’t no water done stayed in.

He knew about the upchucking from flashes of wakefulness that included Simon reporting to the captain on the patient’s condition.

Jayne turned his head infinitesimally toward the sound of the capn’s voice to peer at Mal’s frame leaning up one side of the medlab doorway, arms crossed, visage lined with concern when the doc explained that dehydration was stripping away Jayne’s strength and any hope of a speedy recovery. The downed merc was touched my Mal’s concerned look, until the capn’s next words explained it away. “Jen dao mei. Just when that big hulk of a walking liability can’t walk is when I find a gorram need for him to get vertical!”

Simon’s brilliant mind reached for alternative strategies to help get Serenity’s crew to the pot of gold at the end of the captain’s latest planned caper, but Mal knew that nothing would work for this part of the plan ‘cept Jayne’s particular brand of intimidation backed up by the big man’s mostly-restored fierce strength.

The gig might could be put off as much as a week though, so Mal’s desperation came up with an idea to help speed things along. The merc’d had his eye on lil’ Kaylee. Seemed the girl couldn’t walk or move or have her being ‘thout Jayne’s eyes attached to her as if she needed his eyeballing her to help hold her up.

A body’d have to be blind—no stone dead, not to see it, unless of course it was the object of Jayne’s affections herself. Kaylee’s vision was sharp on turning metal parts, but she hadn’t a clue as to the state of Jayne’s mind and body parts orbiting around the petite mechanic’s every move. But Mal didn’t think the resident bruin of Serenity’s crew’d have the nerve to direct Kaylee’s gaze to where and how his heart lived.

Mal told the doc he’d go talk to Kaylee, making it an order if need be, send her to come visit the patient. Talk to him, she could, and attempt to get some food into his banged-up self. Could only be a notion of the good since Jayne’s road to recovery needed to move from the entrance ramp to the speedway, right quick-like.

Jayne wanted to shout a hearty amen to the idea of Kaylee put to nursin’ him but nothing more issued from him stronger than a pitiful moue just before Mal walked on out, a man with a burning purpose.

The doc left him alone and Jayne filled whatever minutes of consciousness he had this go-round with formulatin’ a Kaylee-siege. Far as he could figure, the main thing keepin’ him from hauling in lil’ Kaylee pronto is the gunshot wound in his right thigh. But while in the mood to be honest with hisself, might as well mention the cracked and bloody skull he got dealt right after the bullet sang through his leg.

The filthy ching-wah tsao duh liou mahng’d rang his noggin for a month o’ Sundays, kicking it with feet clad in shoes that felt like hammers. Kicked him while he was dust-down, him takin’ the hard way dirtward when the gunshot knocked his leg out from under him. Only left off the kicking cause he held his breath long enough to convince them he was kilt.

T’aint right, the head-kicking, anybody’d havta agree. Well, the bullet he figured he felt he deserved, smiling wryly, but the beating they’d dealt him afterward oughta be pictured in a ‘cyclopedia somewhere next to the phrase, “Adding insult to injury.”

They well and truly owed him the bullet after what he’d done in their barn, but the rest was writ large on a debt ledger that throbbed and glimmered in the big merc’s skull like the pain they’d left him to die with. He let go and allowed himself to remember ‘zactly how he’d acquired the newest dents to his frame, just then, since Kaylee factored high in all the good parts and Kaylee was good to think on any ol’ time.

By the time the only people in this part of the black having a reason to need Jayne breathing found him laying face-down in the dust and weeds and scorpions, he was in full-on happy crappy hallucination mode. Kaylee and he’d been engaged in all fashion o’ carnal knowledge, some barely knowable to him or any other human afore now.

It’s amazing what the febrile mind that’s lost all hope for the future can conjure up to comfort a fella afore he dies. In the middle of the best fornicatin’ since earth that was, Kaylee’s voice rang out in a shriek heaven-found, calling his name like nothing else in the ‘verse was important ‘cept his ownself.

That was just before the pain in his head and leg and sunburnt neck screamed louder still as somebody turned him over. It was Kaylee in the flesh, doing the turning, saying his name again a little less loud, but a little more sad, arms straight out grasping his side just before the dead weight that’d been Jayne for the past days unknown caused him to plop over frontwise in the newly swirling dust.

His first real-time sight was the halo of her face surrounded by rumpled-soft honey brown hair mercifully blocking out the double sun’s glare. Her face twisted in worry bent near his own, her hands running near but not quite daring to touch the very wrong and bloody slight openness that decorated his cranial vault.

His fissure-cracked lips and parched throat hurt then, as he tried to talk, tried to smile at her and say her name, but nothing. Nothing to be said when moisture is just a body’s memory.

Naught wrong with his nose though, far as he could tell, since it was in hyperdrive full of Kaylee sweat, Kaylee heat, Kaylee fear and a little engine grease just for GP.

When the rest of them: Mal and Zoe and the doc stormed to Jayne’s current resting place having heard and tracked Kaylee’s call, Jayne let go of the sex-crazed fantasies he’d been living off for the past 2 days and surrendered his last grasp of consciousness with a big gorram smile on his face. Weren’t naught on him that didn’t scream hurt as everything faded to black, but hell, he knew they’d do for him if they could, and if not, he was in for an eternal dirt nap rife with Kaylee all around him, her scent filling his head, filling him up and carrying him over. Sure enough reason for a loveless criminal to smile his way into unconsciousness.

Next time Jayne was aware of time, he was back on the boat, prone on the medlab bed. And he found the cap’n had made good his promise to send Kaylee along to keep him supplied with company and nursin’.

Before he even opened his eyes to prove his other senses correct, he registered Kaylee smell and, best of all, Kaylee touch. Her hand held a cold wet cloth in place over his forehead and her arm was under his healing sunburnt neck as Simon slid a pillow neath his head, mindful of the bandage Jayne could now feel tight-wrapped round his cranium.

Kaylee’s proximity and the change in position caused Jayne to move his injured leg and brought a hiss from the big man. Kaylee “Sorried!” over and over, but the doctor smiled, said it was a good sign, Jayne moving his leg since there had been a chance nerve damage might have rendered it useless.

Kaylee’s being there was like the cavalry to Simon; it allowed the doc to go for awhile, his every thought worrying after River since he’d unforgivably neglected her care for Jayne’s. With barely a word to Serenity’s resident engineer, he hurried out the door and away toward the faint sound of River’s laughing girlish songs.

After rolling a table near the stool Kaylee rested on one-cheeked, other foot flat on the floor, Kaylee positioned the table so she could lean toward the soup bowl there and back
to Jayne’s mouth region.

“How’s our boy today?,” asked the Way to Jayne’s Nethers. Okay, so he warn’t all that happy to have Kaylee refer to him as a male under 12 years old now or any other day, but hell, he was about as helpless as one, so figured on ignorin’it.

He couldn’t debate the matter with her right now anyhow, so he settled on closing his eyes hard and re-opening them the better to focus on her gamine face. Opened his sore lips and got out a gravel “hmmm” for his trouble.

“Don’t try to talk then. Dunno why I asked you a question since it ain’t likely you can hold up your end of a conversation anyhow. Sorry.” He was that anxious to stop the sorries so he made an effort to turn his head infinitesimally from side to side signaling apologies weren’t needed or wanted.

Kaylee lifted the now warming cloth from his head and got it ready to go back in place dipped in icy water so as to be all cool and wet and soothing again. He closed his eyes, lulled as much by her being the one ministering to him as by the cool touch of damp cloth.

She wanted to ask if he was hungry, but stopped herself from sailing the question out just in time. Started a running commentary instead on how long he’d been out (3 days), and how the head-wound was mos’ likely the cause of his napping.

Next running line involved dangling the carrot such that if he was able to keep enough goodies down, they might could shuffle him off to his bunk where he was sure to be more comf’table. Guess she thought the bunk’d act as incentive to get him to cooperate in downing the comestibles. He wondered what she’d think if she knew it was her spending time with him that was most likely what was fixin’ to do the trick.

She brought a warm smelling bowl close to his chin then, and moved the half-full spoon toward his lips. The prior propping up helped, and he did too, opening up enough mouth and throat to swallow. Gave another mmmmm then and tried a smile that he was surely gratified to see rewarded with a beam from Kaylee, made him choke in sudden knife-like longing.

She grabbed for a cloth, wiping at a drop of soup he felt sliding toward his right ear. One full perfect breast slung forward, brushed against his cheek. Okay. Lust and lunch ain’t good bed partners, but hell, it weren’t his fault. Somehow finding a way to slow his breathing down, he nodded slightly, signaled for her to have another go.

She did, and although he couldn’t get the workings right to see that more soup slid down the correct side of his mouth to encourage the warm softy agin’ him again, the whole half cup or so of fluids stayed down by fits and starts. And that was of the good. Pushing away the bed table, Kaylee held his hand till he fell asleep due to a distinct low gauge of energy and the fullest stomach he’d had in days.

Strange how injury robs even the strongest body of resources, she thought. She remembered when he’d stay up night and day, thumb rubbin’ along whatever favorite weapon or grenade he was packing at the time waiting on an unsavory client or standing/sitting guard for the health, welfare and continued breathing of Serenity’s crew.

Night or day watch didn’t seem to even graze the canyons of resolve in the man. He was weak as a kitten now, though, with just she and him in the room, no sounds but his basso breathing and her own, no light but the dimmed medlights to help him rest.

The door to the lab was open a bare foot or so, and Kaylee would surely hear if someone approached to disturb him. This thought came on the heels of the realization that she wanted to do some exploring. Nothing graphic, nothing dangerous to the patient, but it’d been a long time since she’d had a glimpse of his hurts out there in the dust, and then there was a blood coating at the time. Blood, gore, drippage. Nasty.

Now with him cleaned up and bandaged, she wanted to be sure for herself that he was gonna be okay. Gonna be back vertical to stand watch over her and the others after a time, gonna laugh and reach pointing at her with his fork at the dinner table joking with his mouth full of merriment and protein grindage, about something she’d said or done.

Kaylee walked around the medbed then, and lifted up the thin sheet on his right leg, folding it back onto his left to fully uncover the thigh. He was bare, she oughta known but hadn’t thought of that.

Her attention focused on the bandage loosened on his thigh, she peered up under the edge to see that the wound was clean, clotted and healing well—no red warnings running any which way.

She left the leg uncovered, moving to her left toward the bed’s head now, back of her hand feeling his forehead under the cloth. No fever. Turned the wet cloth onto its cooler side, replaced it on his forehead, felt around the bandage for swelling. None that she could feel.

The doc was a good ‘un. She knew it from superior work on her own person. At healing arts patching-up Serenity’s crew, he was downright magic. She smiled then, thinking of Simon. Thinking consummating thoughts of Simon. Still smiling, almost dancing, she curved back around the bed toward the exposed leg.

As she lifted the sheet preparatory to covering him back up, the middle part pulled up and she let out an involuntary gasp. The middle part of him was hooked on a fold of the sheet. Weren’t enough blood or energy in the man to enable his hyraulics to do their work down there, it was the fold of sheet that did it.

She knew this to be the only explanation and gently laid the sheet down over his leg, pulling the fabric smooth. But that only further delineated what was covered at the juncture of the big man’s thighs.

Lil’ Kaylee’d seen her share of manstaffs covered and un, but the flash she’d just given herself defied nature. Standing statue, only her eyes moving toward the barely open door and ears twitching for any sound, Kaylee assured herself it was just her and the patient in the room or in the foreseeable forehearable vicinity.

She moved a guilty step toward her left then, reached out a hand spread-fingered over Jayne Cobb’s package. When neither the edge of her hand closest to her body nor the same fingertips reaching toward the base of Jayne’s manhood could reach the other side, she slid her palm’s edge down toward his right hip, then wrist-up curled her fingertips over to reach the other hip.

Ai ya, but he was hung. Or else he was swathed in some kinda bandage under that sheet due to an injury the doc hadn’t felt like broadcasting to the feminine crew contingent.

Kaylee worried about the injury-potential to Jayne’s hydraulics more than she wanted to question right here and now, and partially to aid her policy of not taking useless time in self-doubt, she whipped back the sheet like a matador from earth that was and saw Jayne in ALL his glory, glorious for true.

Wu de tyen ah, what must he be like hard?

The shaft laid slightly to the left, leading edge from his body flared and wide and ridged and perfect, the length dangling down toward a dusky pink and circumcised head whose slit was like an apostrophe.

His balls were big, egg-like, nesting one atop the other between legs a bit paled from too long without sun. Sweet Buddha, but he was hung and hung spectacular, and if anybody on this bird ‘sides Inara would know, Kaylee would sure-nuff know to testify on it.

The hair that peppered him was coarse and black and felt like—Kaylee jerked her hand away from his pubic area just short of touching her flesh to his without the bed sheet’s insulation from before. Short. Not an adjective worth applying to Jayne anywhere.

What in the tyen shuh duh was she doing, first clinically categorizing Jayne’s manhood and now figurin’ on touchin’ besides the lookin’? She belonged heart and soul to Simon. Well, okay, her crucial “body” wasn’t wrapped up in that equation of belonging yet, but certainly not due to any lack of pinin’ and tryin’ on her part.

It was Simon’s fault, that’s what it was. If she’d ever had some regular bouts of Simon’s parts clenching and twining her nethers, she’d not be here right now lusting after, wantin’ to paw over Jayne’s own southern landscape. Hell with it.

Her hand stretched right back where it wanted to be, reaching his abdomen’s hairtips, surprisingly soft for all their coarse appearance, surprising too, to find anything soft on such a ship’s bulkhead hard man.

But the Jayne she knew was nothing if not a walking contradiction so why not find out he’s soft as well as hard. Slightly more pressure and a slow lateral handsweep over pubic hair affirmed the finding but the fun in the hair-feelin’ department quickly paled next to the better territory beckoning a few scant centimeters straight down from there.

Warmth was what she felt. And a kidskin softness over giving flesh. He was big around as her thumb and forefinger could barely circle. Ai ya, she thought again, how wide would he be if he were….hard?

Which was what she realized he was beginning to be, a result of the ol’ clever finger-measure testing his girth. She dropped him then, backed away a step from the bed and raked her eyes straight up to his face, mouth open to try an explanation, please sweet Buddha: one that he’d buy.

His face was slack, though, dry cracked lips parted and regular breathing eking out, even a little snore ratcheting out. Kaylee’s fight or flight loosened then, muscles relaxed, and she carefully reached back out over the bed, pulling the sheet safely back down and over the big man’s lower half.

The best mechanic and now the horniest woman in the known ‘verse sidled out of the room then, flitting away like a namesake of the class of her ship, and back to the safety of her engines.

As she crossed the medlab threshold, Jayne turned his head quickly to enjoy the view of her overalls-clad and shapely rump, one hand reaching down to soothe his manhandled—make that Kaylee-handled (cause he wern’t sly) “Jayne” Thomas.

~~~


Kaylee fumbled her cabin door open, flew into sanctuary, stripped her outer clothes off and dove into bed, flushed face down. No use. No hope for it. She tried to tell herself that nothing happened. Nothing. She’d held his hand till he fell asleep and that was all she’d held. Absolutely.

But the charged up clockspring tightness below her navel said she’d better quit lying. Although Kaylee wasn’t beyond obfuscating to others when telling the truth would only hurt ‘em terrible bad, she always spoke truth to herself, even if she was the only one she was talking to.

So Jayne’s nurse rolled over onto her back and let her train of thought steam on through, engine fully stoked from the way he’d looked, innocent strong big fully equipped blameless male parts laid out, then levitatin’ in her hand’s grasp.

That same hand that’d so recently held his cock now streaked down inside her plain white panties, touching what her nethers already told her brain was furious moisture. Getting wet and wetter just from recollecting Jayne’s own.

Might could have saved herself this particular horizontal exercise, mighta done without the need to stroke and fondle her body toward completion using this mind-fecking Jayne imagery, if not for the fact that she’d involved two senses in her explorin’ when just one woulda likely done. A quick visual and then a quicker exit mighta left no brain-scarring at all.

Nope, she couldn’t have left it to one sense. Weren’t enough for her to look, she’d gorram-well had to touch, had to take exactin’ engineerin’ measurements as if to sculpt him from memory outta cold engine grease later on.

Two senses was all she’d used for explorin’ Jayne’s terrain? Was a sheep-humpin’ wonder she hadn’t tilted her damn head down a few inches more, far enough to inhale his smell and further still to have a taste.

That woulda been just about complete sensory overload. But the last sense, hearing, couldn’t have added to the fun ‘less she had him on top of her, heard him on top of her. His voice lost somewhere, part inside him and part inside her, moaning her name as he came…

Body near-sunfishing, fetal positioned around her hand clenched inside her, Kaylee shuddered gut-hard, drenched in sweat and woman wet. Had time to enjoy the cascading clatter and fall of relentless orgasm, a four-banger, tick, tick, tick, tick-- before sad guilt dragged her back.

Not guilt at rubbin’ one out. Hell no. She’d been doin’ that since she was four and her ma found her spread-thighed and friction-moving on the corner of her bed, ma closing the door on her way out. Nah, that had ever been a non-guilty pleasure, no denying!

Not sadness at not havin’ Jayne here to do her hand’s work (Simon. Make that Simon. The young doctor was who she wanted here, who she always wanted here. Not Jayne. Never Jayne.)

The bad feelings chasing the pleasure were at taking advantage of a sick man, a man she didn’t even want. Yeah, that was it.

And she made herself believe it, that the masturbatin’ didn’t have a tinker’s damn to do with Jayne or Jayne’s equipment, sufficient at least for her to get some rest that night.

So much for utter honesty with herself.

Truthsomeness could apparently be adjusted to suit the need at hand. Right now, said need owed adjustment due as much to the lateness of the hour as what quantity of truth her mind was up to swallowing. A small voice gave her that grace this time as she drifted away.

~~~

Next morning the doc woke Jayne up with the stab of a syringe full of meds from one long-fingered hand and a fingering of the head wound’s bandaging from the other.

Jayne shot to consciousness with the energy to slap the head-handling appendage away while simultaneously keeping his hip still, which Simon took to be a good sign. Jayne’s senses being alive enough to make him annoying while also showing mind-sense such that Simon’s needlework went unmolested meant the patient’s reactions were approaching normal.

All senses “go” meant the big troglodyte could get the hell out of the only place on the ship Simon could call his sanctum that much sooner. The doctor finished the injection and turned to make notes with an almost undetectable smile.

Kaylee walked in as the doc left his notes to peel back Jayne’s head dressing while reaching for fresh gauze and antiseptic.

The little mechanic rushed over to help, upsetting the bottle of wound cleanser but neatly catching it between a hip and the counter. The doc smiled and wedged the bottle from Kaylee’s body’s grasp, nodding at the bandages by way of asking her to hold them until needed.

Armed with nursing supplies, Kaylee stood by and took a look at Jayne’s head, careful not to meet his eyes just yet. The wound looked queasifyin’ but she breathed deep and stood tall so as to be of the best assistance.

When an uncomfortable silence filled the room after Simon cleaned, rebandaged the patient and then turned away to the sink, she finally swept her vantage point from Jayne’s plastered-down head of hair to his open eyes and noticed for the first time how ever-so soft and deep blue they were.

Never gave a thought to his eyes before, wondered what her fixatin’ on them now was about. Might be they weren’t normally that fetching, could be bright now due to fever or on account of the drugs.

She felt a twinge of concern, a yen for him to heal up right as rain and she felt glad of Simon being there to help Jayne heal. And to help her keep her mind on her future beau and off the one her hand had found all unconscious the night before.

O’ course she could light shrine-incense forever in prayer and still not have Simon ever notice her the way she noticed him. Just how long was a girl supposed to use all her best wiles with nary a result to encourage her? The choice of beaus on this boat was mighty minimal, there was only Simon and Jayne, really. And Jayne was out of the question.

Jayne was… Oh hell. Jayne was swai. Not almost pretty swai like the doctor. No, Simon was softly handsome, lithesome. Graceful-walking, graceful talking.

The doctor was what Kaylee was not, and as a consequence, perhaps, he was what her girlish dreams had long insisted on in a prince to carry her away.

Jayne was more like here. Similar raisings, near enough double to her way of talkin’, devilish sense of humor and even sexual experience, if the ramblings she’d overheard were to be believed.

Jayne had begun to carry her away, lately, in a whole different direction she wanted Simon on a white stallion to gallop her to. The merc was sharp-planed hardness everywhere. Well, everywhere Kaylee’d had time to inspect.

She owed all manner of burnin’ fragrance in penance after that fong luh act of hers the night before, fondling Jayne’s bits as if she’d had a right to ‘em. That thought was a mistake since it led her right back to the aforesaid night and the attached revelations she’d sorta successfully crowded from her memory in the wee hours.

There was today to get through, and after today, tonight. She hoped it’d just be her and fatigue in her bunk, or failing that, a visionary Simon covering her and pushing inside her since the flesh and blood version weren’t interested and would likely always be disinclined.

She looked at Simon’s back, slim and tall, regal even, near the counter, then looked back at Jayne. Even poorly and prone, the big merc made the room fairly bulge with his strength’s potential. It seemed to radiate off the man like gentility did offa Simon.

If Simon stepped outta the room, Jayne would still make the room seem full of men. Kaylee wondered at that, then derailed that particular train of thought when Simon handed her a heated bowl of soup for the patient’s nourishing breakfast.

Kaylee tucked a cloth around Jayne’s neck, mindful of the drips into his ear the day before. Jayne surprised his little nurse when his hand reached up to help her tuck the cloth edge beneath his neck, smiling up at her, enjoying the view of her tee-shirt covered bosom a scant inch from his shoulder’s edge.

“He’s better this morning. Grabbed my arm when I began an injection into his hip.”

“That’s great,” murmured Kaylee, who thought to wonder how he went from near-coma last night to miraculous strength this very next morning. Any way he coulda….

“…shoulda known you and Kaylee takin’ such good care a’ me made all the difference,” said Jayne in a dim imitation of his bullhorn voice’s former bluster. “I ‘preciate it and all, is what I’m sayin’. That and the soup. Th’ soup’s good. You make it, Kaylee?”

“Yeah. Got some mushrooms and greens to add to the chicken fat we liberated on our last stop. Book thought the vegetables and the fat’d give you strength. Guess it worked, huh?”

She spooned some broth into his mouth, saving him the need to reply while she used the brief respite to spin her thoughts into comforting patterns. Conjuring self-assuring thoughts such that he didn’t know, couldn’t know, wouldn’t have no way of knowing...

He knew.

He laid there swallowing steadily, and he knew. Even when the full spoon piston'd liquid nutrition into him faster between swallows, almost as if to keep him from thinking on anything else, he knew. And he knew she knew he knew.

Easy though. The ticket was to go easy. Go gentle and slow. Didn’t want to spook her. She was a prize horse to be broke. But broke right. If you rush things, riding’s impossible. And he wanted to ride. She did too, he knew it now.

Hwoon dahn, she’d come to the knowing without him doing a dadburn thing. He felt like Sleeping Beauty on earth that was, she who had come alive to love’s kiss. All he’d had to do was get grievous hurt, fall asleep and wake up to her touch. Felt a rise at the memory and repositioned his good leg to mask it.

What happened to “easy now?” He had time. Healing takes time and he weren’t going nowhere. She weren’t going nowhere neither. Only so far a little girl could go when her house’s fencing was all solid bulkhead.

Her eyes’d been on him almost the whole time since she walked into the medlab this morning. Eyes full of Jayne, not the prissy doctor. Jayne was keeping score and it was looking good. Damn good.

Kaylee stayed with him till the soup bowl got bare, then she hurried away, looking puzzled, thoughts all turned inward. Jayne leaned up from the pillows, propping himself on his elbows and got out a, “Bye Kaylee,” as she turned away but she didn’t turn back around or acknowledge his speakin’.

Simon took Jayne’s vitals while Jayne amused himself by swatting at either one of the young doctor’s girly-man hands that came within reach.

Patience incarnate, the doctor went about his duties toward this most difficult of patients, carefully reciting under this breath the beginning of the sacred Hippocratic oath, “First, do no harm.” He’d found it was the best, most reliable real way to endure the Neanderthal’s fong luh antics.

It was that or finish the job the ranchers did, ma-shong. Most assuredly a tempting thought, no denying, but sadly, not an option. Blasted Hippocratic oath left no room for mercy-killing.

~~~

Simon finished recording his latest findings which, when compared with the past days’ figures charted on a graph indicated almost miraculous progress. He checked once again to be sure, and dared himself to hope that his latest doctor/patient ordeal could really be near an end.

A good end, better than he’d have dare hope when he first laid eyes on Jayne bled nearly dry into the dust from two grievous wounds, either of which could have been fatal.

Yes, the results were all there on paper logged in his precise and flowing script. Some combination of the excellent education his noble parents had provided and the emergency surgery he had successfully wrought during his spotless internship had brought him to this place and this patient. Jayne reaped the benefits of Simon’s learning and experience. Hell, they all did on this boat. Not exactly the clientele he had envisioned when he was a star medical student and intern. Negative. Gun shot/knife lacerated/poisoned thieves aboard a smuggling ship, the fodder that would ever provide him with his bread and butter? Never in a million years.

A pack of thieves to work on. A potpourri of options at any given time, just to keep things interesting. There was the choice of a talented reckless pilot, mysterious minister, Guild-certified companion, girl mechanic, committed captain (yes, Simon would love to have him committed sometimes) and now the biggest dumbest mercenary ever to draw breath.

River’s safety and his own depended on his work, of course. Depended on his performing triage and raising the dead back from near zombie status on a regular basis. The sheer variety in choices of patients and eviscerations he was called upon to undo made for a lack of boredom, if nothing else could recommend the job. In his spare time, there was River. Always River. She filled his thoughts and hopes no matter who he was working on, what body his hands were wrist deep in at the time.

The time for even having to touch his current patient, much less probe any further than the upper dermal layer of his wounds, had thankfully passed. A cursory inspection under each bandage showed he was healing up nicely. Impossibly, Jayne would live to curse and spit and fight again. To likely return to this bed and necessitate all Simon’s skills yet again.

It seemed the merc’s brain was back to as fully-functional as it ever possibly was prior to the violence he had somehow invited upon himself at their last planetary stop. There was only so much even modern medicine supplied through the conduit of Serenity’s physician’s exceptionally skilled hands could cure, after all. Restoring normality, even as that applied to Jayne’s mental faculties, was a miracle considering the fringe planet’s incensed ranchers’ rough and bloody treatment of the cranial vault that was home to Jayne’s brain.

If sewing the lining of Jayne’s brain back inside his skull was hazardous, the bullet Simon had skillfully removed from within a nanometer of Jayne’s femoral artery was a double threat. It had been touch and go but the patient probably would not even have a limp as a result of the good doctor’s ministrations and he most definitely would never use his restored mental faculties to thank Simon for it.

His latest logged findings showed Simon the tunnel’s end limned with light, putting to rest his ruminations on the indignities visited on a doctor owned by an airborne den of smugglers.

He smiled directly down at Jayne in realization. “You’re a free man, Jayne.”

“Hunh?”

“Your vitals are much improved. You will remain on bed rest, bunk rest, to be precise. Your cabin will do quite nicely as a locus for continued recuperation.”

‘And you’ll get your reeking carcass off my medlab bed,’ Simon left the thought unspoken. In truth, he wondered if there was enough disinfectant on all of Serenity to effectively swab the Jayne-smell away. Perhaps there was some leather-like material he could have Kaylee find on board to recover the bed with, should eau de Jayne prove indefatigable after repeated cleansing.

The wounds’ surrounding fleshy areas were clean, Simon would in no wise endanger the merc’s susceptible opened skin without cleansing it fiercely of surrounding bacteria waiting to invade, but the rest of the man’s body had begun smelling strongly, distinctly strong of late.

“Can I get a shower too, Doc?” Jayne was thinking of Kaylee’s nose, how close it’d been to his tallywhacker and other things the night before.

Hell, Kaylee’s attentions’d been the restorative to his body and spirit, no matter that he’d tried to sell ‘em his nourishin’ soup comments. “I’m a mite worse-smelling than them cows we had muckin’ up the bay.”

Jayne mighta been born yesterday, but it was yesterday morning, not last night. He knew that gaining permission to come courting involved scrubbing up some. Hopefully before he had another up-close and personal Kaylee experience. He smiled and clandestinely rubbed his crotch.

“A sponge bath will have to do for now, but you can do it yourself in your bunk with a basin of water next to the bed. I’ll get it set up for you and,” that was the last Simon said to Jayne as Wash barked out a demand over the com for the doctor to report to the bridge pronto. Sounded like he said River fell down, just a minor bump, but the two men in the medlab could hear her sobs echoing through the com overhead.

That was all it took for Simon to lose all facial profusion. White-skinned and tight-lipped, he grabbed his blue bag, the closest to hand, and was out the door in two long strides, nearly levitating in his rush to be gone.

Staring after the moonbrain’s departing brother, Jayne looked for him to shout back over his shoulder, to tell the patient anything else. Like what to do, like what he could do. Failing any answer, the big man slowly raised himself upright on the bed, both legs still stretched out in front, supported fully by the bed.

His head only swam a little at the change in position, so Jayne decided to push it some more. He slid the uninjured left leg off the bed, sliding the hurt right one along at a near right angle till the calf was half-dangling over the side. No signals issued from his bandaged right thigh more serious than a dull ache, mighta been a result of the needle stab the doc used to say good morning earlier. Jayne hoped it’d be enough to get him where he wanted to go.

With no hindrance of worsening pain, he slid the hurt leg over the bedside to hang near its mate. Jayne looked at the floor about 6 inches down. Gauging his chances, judging them to be close enough for gov’ment work he slid one butt cheek off the bed, grabbing the nearby counter for support.

He cursed the slowly spinning room in splendid Mandarin Chinese. When the merry-go-round slowed almost to a stop he moved hand over hand along the counter. When he ran out of counter, he grabbed the door handle as his next handhold and crossed the threshold that led toward the haven of his cabin and Vera.

On his way out, he never noticed that the sheet had slid off him to pool on the medlab floor, his body’s only covering abandoned.

Jayne woke up in his bunk, unsure how he got there but mighty grateful for it anyhow. He was mostly in his bunk, the upper half was, at least. That was the business half when it came to sleeping so he called it good. If it was the other way round he’d a’ been napping on the cold metal floor. As it was, even half aboard must have made for good log-sawin’ because he’d been asleep long enough to feel almost new. No way to tell how long he’d been out for sure though.

It might not have been a long nap this time. It was likely nobody else had time to know about his relocation, seein’ as how he was stark naked and his door was wide open. Figured some passer-by woulda covered him up for decency’s sake if they had looked in.

Not out of respect for Jayne’s sense of decency, he didn’t reckon he’d ever had any to speak of, but on account of their own. Just about anybody else on the ship’s decency quotient had to be superior to Ma Cobb’s boy, Jayne’s.

Thinking on ma brought his knit cap to mind so he levered himself legs and all up onto the bunk and snatched down the cap he always kept hanging at arm’s length. He dragged its clean smell deep into his nostrils, fancying he kenned field hay and ma’s cooking odors lodged in the cunning intricate weave of fibers.

That’s how Kaylee found him, smile on his face, naked as the day he came out of the woman who’d made the cap, legs pulled up nearly to a muscular furred chest, 6 feet plus of breech-birthed man curled up on his bunk. Forcing her eyes offa what she could see all too well, she spied the misshapen little hat clutched to his nose.

Thought she heard him say, “Mama,” and took an involuntary step forward, girl-Woman wanting to comfort a vulnerable boy-Man.

“Jayne? You alright?” And the merc crammed the hat ‘neath his one pillow, straightening his length out into a less infantile pose. Immediately realized that left him showin’ off his equipment and grabbed the same pillow to cover up his mid-lower portion, hat flying off the bed to land at Kaylee’s feet.

“M’ fine, don’t need nothin’,” Jayne growled at her. “Gorram girl! Why dontcha warn a man you’re fixing to barge in? This ain’t no tea parlor, it’s the only piece of this boat I got any privacy at, and I don’t want no visitors ‘less I know they’re comin’first.”

Kaylee stood over him arms akimbo and wondered whether to thwap him a good one or smooth his hair, what of it she could see around the bandage. His thick hair stood out all over prickly like a thorn bush that grew back home. All chance of angry battery fled as she studied his hair and the comparison that’d come to her.

“What?” grunted Jayne. “Nothin’. Your hair is all—bristly and porcupinish. You want I should help you with it? I could…”

“No, I don’t ruttin’need your prissing ways around my head, messing up what don’t need fixing anyhow. Girl, you hover me like a hungry tick, and I won’t stand for it!”

Jayne had a flash of a moment to wonder why he was scorning the object of his considerable affections, and attributed the outburst just as quickly to embarrassment at being caught unawares in a homely homesick moment.

He figured she’d understand so he ventured: “Kaylee, I don’t mean nothin’. The meds are befuddling and I don’t mean to sling out at ya.” He looked at the metal ceiling, the edge of the bed, anywhere but at any moisture his damn fool mouth might have brought to her eyes’ edge. Also took that convenient moment to use the toes on his good left foot to grip the cot’s sheet good and hard, cocking the leg to bring the material’s edge within hand’s reach. Covered, he ventured a peek in her direction as she spoke.

Couldn’t see her eyes at all, though, ‘cause she had half-turned away to pick up a bowl while walking to Jayne’s sink.

“Well, your hair ain’t near the worst thing on ya, Jayne, if you want to know the very truth. We need to getcha cleaned up some, starting with your toes and forgettin’ about the hair for now.”

“I can do..” “No you can’t,” she cut him off. “You can do lots of things, Jayne Cobb. Later. Right now you can just lay there and let somebody else do something that needs doing. I’ll just do what’s proper, won’t deal with your…ummmm…stuff, you can take care of that after I leave. We okay on them terms?”

The big man grunted and laid back easy on his pillow, watching and waiting in wonderment at what glories providence had seemed to suddenly gift him with.

Nurse Kaylee was fixing to give him a sponge bath. Yeah. He smiled big at the image, watching her movements to be sure to wipe it off faster than Serenity could move, if the erstwhile candy striper’s eyes moved to catch his. Hoped she’d not look too soon, because the happy was worth lingerin’ over.

She brought over the bowl and a cloth floating on the surface of water he could see a little steam coming off of. Knelt on the floor at the foot of Jayne’s bed, turned back the sheet to mid-calf with one hand, swabbing the cloth in the slightly soapy water with the other. Wringing it out she made short work of laving his feet clean.

He tried manfully to be still, but couldn’t help a flinch and a muffled chortle when she went betwixt his toes. Saw her shoulders quake at that, glad at the realization that they were mutually amused, figuring that was more progress in the direction of some closer contact in the foreseeable future. Right up his alley, part of his plan.

The laundress used another bigger cloth to dry off his feet, rubbing the soles briskly. He ouched when she roughly dried the right foot, since it jostled his thigh some. She made a little moue of apology and gently laid the injured leg’s foot down again.

The sheet got folded back to thigh height for the next stage in the ablutions. Jayne’s thoughts ran in a circular mold, mouse on a wheel, breathing amped way up. Last time she’d pulled a sheet back this far on him, she’d all but had her way with him, he remembered. How would he ever forget, who’d ever want to forget that?

But Kaylee simply hummed a little tune, sounded kinda like the song them Mudders’d sung for him. The Jayne national anthem. Yeah, it was the same song. He wondered if getting close and personal-like with his parts was putting her in the mind to sing his praises.

She wouldn’t be the first female to be charmed into full-throated appreciation at first sight of what his dropped trousers revealed. Yeah, he liked thinking on Kaylee’s explorations leading to singing, and singing leading to carnal pleasures long-denied.

Got dropped firmly back to earth by her next words.

“I made up new words to your song. Kinda got it suited to Simon instead…,” she dropped off. “Would you like to hear it?,” Looked up to see how her words were taken.

Yep. He wasn’t happy. And it couldn’t be pain from her cleaning him up, because she made sure to be swishing the cloth around in the water rather than swabbing him when she said it.

“I was just kidding, Jayne. To be honest, when I looked at your legs I thought of that big ol’ statue the Mudders made and how long your real legs’d be if you were 15 feet tall like that. That’s what made me hum ‘The Hero of Canton.’”

An honest grin on her heart-shaped face was what won him over. There was that sense of humor of hers, twin to his, companion to so many other things he liked about her.

She rubbed the still warm damp cloth up his good leg and started up the gunshot one, pausing at the bandaged area, moving up over it and around it. No need to clean under the bandage, leave that to the expert, she thought.

She knew Simon would likely refuse to re-dress the bandages if Jayne didn’t get some washing-up first, so she had gone looking for the patient with that in mind. Knew too, that Jayne still needed tending from Simon in the way of bandage checking and such afore he’d be ready to care for himself and the rest of them by riding shotgun on Mal’s mule.

Was she doing this for Simon’s sake, Jayne’s or her own? A mixture of all three? Simon’s well-being had been the focus of her energies almost since his fine clothes and finer smile had decorated the area he walked in. But she found her mind befuddled and full as grandma’s tick mattress with a new object for her attention lately, one that crowded out thoughts of Simon, made her think her heart might not belong altogether to the young doctor.

Said object was looking truly tense now, all muscles wracked vice-grip tight yet granite still as Kaylee, wet cloth gone to cool in hand, absent-mindedly pushed up Jayne’s thigh, dampening the edge of the sheet covering his--

Wuo de ma, had she lost her mind, takin’ this sponge bath thing so far?

Jayne about went berserk as a man can be while laying stock still, the warm glowing warming glow that hit his privates streaked up his face sending all the right signals to all the rest of him.

All systems go, like Serenity at her high toned best and ready for action. “Juh jen sh guh kwai luh duh jean jan,” thought Jayne, yeah, definitely a good day. One of the best days he’d ever had, in fact. The problem, see, was that he could tell just by looking at her face that she didn’t know what the pee goo she was doing.

More importantly, who she was doing it to. Hell, she wasn’t even paying attention to where her hand had traveled, what it was doing to a certain hard-up man’s state of mind and body.

While her mind was elsewhere, Jayne’s was wondering when in the gorramdamn world of Jayne he had developed a sexual conscience. Partic’ly one that insisted a person’s hand on his nethers should be there because they wanted it there as bad as he did. Only the god of fornicatin’ monkeys could know. Since no deities were present nor did it seem likely they’d help in his soul-searching, Jayne started to cool his jets when he realized Kaylee’s heart weren’t traveling the path her small hand was.

Ah well, as he’d become so very used to saying lately, there was time for her and him to connect all the dots another time, another place. He could wait.

For right gorram here and now, this zombified torture session that she’d intended as batting clean-up would need to cease before she commenced to cleaning up his bat in earnest.

He assisted himself in the jets’ cooling process by assuring himself he wasn’t sure he wanted her to start something he couldn’t finish right now, resources bein’ low and all.
So he cleared his throat loud and sudden-like to bring her back to her senses, sadly knowing where her renewed attention would leave her. With him left someplace else lonely for her hand.

The preoccupied attendant leaning over his upper thighs looked down at the goose bumps she’d raised on him. A fresh crop of miniscule mountains leaped up as a drop of very cold water from the lifted cloth pinged down onto the swai ridge of muscle that hailed from his pubis diagonally on up to over his hip bone.

He shivered. She shivered, for different reasons. She dropped the cold cloth smack dab down on the non-miniscule rise that the sheet’s edge barely covered.

Shit, girl, what the heck did you think you were doin’, she had to wonder. Thankful that he hadn’t asked that question of her yet, she rose up off her knees, turned her head away from him and backwards-grabbed the wet cloth off him on her way up. Bending back down to grab up the bowl of nearly icy water, she stomped to the sink to empty and refill with warm water and very little fresh soap.

More than thankful for the break in ministrations, Jayne took time to have a talk with his rearing manhood, reminding him that there was a time for such and this weren’t it. Bribed Jayne-Thomas with promises that the pay-off would be worth a bit of temporary deprivation. That got it beat down some, enough so he could rearrange some of the extra sheet to hide the worst evidence of a restored and functioning hydraulic system.

His restless libido, encouraged by southern developments Jayne wasn’t completely successful at dampening, hacked through to his brain with a suggestion. ‘Hey, maybe if she started somethin’ again and we could keep eye contact, the somethin’ she started’d be something he would be able to more than finish.’

It was all Jayne could do to resist the nagging temptation to sneak a hand downward to check for tensile strength of purpose enough, just enough to see if lil’ Kaylee’d not be let down if she showed herself ready to ride.

Good intentions on one shoulder, hormone driven devil on the other, Jayne wrestled with himself over the best course of action.

All unknowing, Kaylee was aiding Jayne’s good side, giving him time to seek tight rein over the needs of his body over the wants of his heart and mind. She had the faucet barely turned on so a thin trickle of warm water creeped rather than ran up the bowl’s sides. The slow filling process aimed to give her own self time to organize her thoughts, questioning angels and devils she was only just beginning to become better acquainted with.

By the time Kaylee came back armed with fresh warm soapy water and cloth, Jayne lay on his side facing her, sheet safely draped over his crotch, disguising what lay beneath it.

Kaylee knelt on the floor at his chest level. The water in the bowl pitched and yawed but didn’t spill over as she set it down by her legs and pushed the cloth up and down, round and round to get it good and wet and slightly soapy.

She used her dry hand to pull the sheet covering his chest carefully down to hip-level, then used both hands to wring out the cloth.

Head cocked downward as she prepared the cloth with enough water to cleanse but not enough to soak his bunk mattress, she didn’t see Jayne lean his head forward and down to snatch the scent of her oatmeal and honey hair near the nape of her neck.

He was quick enough to get repositioned before she turned back to her task, quick enough to paste a look of unconcern on his face that held until she laid the warm cloth to his pecs.

It wasn’t so much the touch of the cloth that did it to him. It was more her looking at him that way. The him she was looking at was his chest, and the look was close kin to how she’d looked at Simon when she saw him without his shirt on in the cargo bay, playing basketball with the boys awhile back.

Jayne remembered that look very well, because he’d been jealous nobody’d spared a glance for his own chest likewise bared. Okay, so he was sweat-streaked and grimed and the doctor never broke a sweat. But give a guy a break. The dignified doctor always looked like he wun gwo pee, and that just weren’t human.

It appeared to Jayne from the rapt expression on Kaylee’s face that she was ready to trade the worship of the otherwordly divine for flesh and blood man-pecs.

Kaylee swallowed and made herself attend to the task at hand. Under her hand, near her breast if she leaned forward to wash along his extremely well-defined ribcage. She did. And it was.

Turned back to re-moisten the washcloth, brought it back as much to get the washing done before the water cooled as to hurry up and get her vantage point back where she wanted it. On Jayne’s torso. On Jayne’s belly. Wasn’t his belly button cunning? And here was the twin to that diagonal ridged musculature her cold cloth had found not 5 minutes ago when she’d forgotten where she was until Jayne’s quiet cough had alerted her to the gooseflesh she’d raised there.

Lord, but he was as beautiful as could be. Who coulda known? He was just a big reliable safety net to her and everybody else on the ship. Strong like bull, big like mountain, nothing to see, move it along.

But closer inspection had proved he was something else. Jayne was turning out to be something akin to a magnet pulling hard on Kaylee, making her soft in a lot of places, including her brain.

He was big in all the right places. No, that wasn’t the way to say it. He was bigger than a man had any right to be. The body Kaylee washed was toned to an nth of a degree of perfection, looked exactly like the superhero who starred in the color comic book stashed in her clothes chest.

She’d seen him working out with the Shepherd in the cargo bay, but never gave any thought to the work that did on his physique, unless to be grateful for the increased strength he could use during the heists that kept Serenity afloat and their bellies full.

His belly was a marvelous landscape of hardened planes and deep ridges. The rise and fall of terrain as he breathed slowly, deeply in and out was hypnotic as a snake to Kaylee’s mongoose. She licked her lips as a zap of purified lust ricocheted from brain to groin and back again.

In an all-out survival maneuver she dipped and wrung the cloth again, making short work of laving the man’s muscular arms over and under, thorough but necessarily rapid-fire. She brusquely ordered Jayne to turn over to his other side so she could finish her task without the chance of his seeing what he was doing to her.

The lip-licking was bad enough, but coupled with the near hyperventilating pant newly added to the Kaylee Show, she knew he’d be on to her current disturbed state if she didn’t get behind him quick-like.

When his back was presented to her, Kaylee swabbed it up and down, back and forth striving for a workman-like job and wondered what it would be like to have Jayne “on to her.” She liked it on top, truth be told, but against the wall, on the floor, in the shower, on the table, all of the above and below showed equal charm.

The sponge bath was nearly complete, leaving only the back of Jayne’s neck and ears. She worked them clean, then when she said she was all done, he rolled over onto his back, head turned to face her with a relaxed expression on his dirty face.

Dang it, she’d forgotten to clean his face. She took to this last task slowly, working down around his strong jawline and over wide cheekbones to strong forehead. Wiped down his nose which caused her to spare a thought for how balanced his features were. Nothing out of proportion, all his features working together to give him a handsome aspect that wasn’t anything like Simon’s, borrowing nothing from the softer side. Her bare finger skimmed over his full bottom lip and she felt his warm breath tickle and begin to dry the wetness of her hand.

“All done!,” she chirruped, turning to rise up so fast that she bumped her head the shelf over the bunk, nearly inserting her foot in the water basin as she struggled to hold her head and regain her footing at the same time. Jayne’s hands reached out to steady her legs which likely prevented a tumble to the deck.

Kaylee recovered immediately and drew away from the hands helpfully pressing into her overall-clad flesh, picked up the basin and dumped it into the sink. She rinsed and dried it, hanging the cloth up to dry on its hook.

The newly clean patient didn’t bother to cover up his dang fool self like Kaylee’d wished he’d have sense enough to do. Nah, he just laid there, looking at her with a careful, almost watchful expression like she was an animal that warranted careful inspection in case it was ready to rear and bolt.

Just as Kaylee had hit upon a handy excuse to get out of there, Jayne asked her if she thought there might be some soup and maybe some bread or something he could have before she left him.

“Right! I’ll get you something, shoulda thought of that first. Be back before you know it,” she sailed the comment over her shoulder as she left the scene of her most recent crimes for the kitchen and food for Jayne. She felt like a miserable failure as a nurse, realizing that food shoulda come before cleaning in the preferred scheme of what the patient needed most.

Wondered if she was the one who’d really needed to admin’ster the cleaning job more than he needed to receive it, based on her body’s thcen wah-y reactions to the process. Honest self-examination could well-enough wait till she added to his food intake though.


End of Part 1

Author’s note: Feedback makes my head spin and my fingers type faster. Wish you could see the headspin thing.

Part 4 will get us down and dirty with the newly clean Jayne and lil’ Kaylee.

jing zi: ingenious
fei oo: junk
ching-wah tsao duh liou: frog-riding bastard
wu de tyen ah: dear god in heaven
Ai ya: damn
fong luh: crazy
mah-shong: in a hurry.
wuo de ma: mother of Jesus
Juh jen sh guh kwai luh duh jean jan: This really is a happy day
pee goo- rear end
wun gwo pee: never smelled a fart
tchen wah: slut
jing zi: ingenious
hwoon dahn: son of a bitch
mah-shong: in a hurry.
dong ma?: Do you understand?