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Disclaimer: Firefly and all related elements, characters and indicia © Mutant Enemy Productions and 20th Century Fox Television, 2003. All Rights Reserved. All characters and situationssave those created by the authors for use solely on this websiteare copyright Mutant Enemy Productions and 20th Century Fox Television.
Author's Note: For Baco for the J/S ideas & Bex for the med-talk help and promise of A/D goodies :D
How to Spell Inappropriate
It was hard for him to define the exact moment at which things had gone so terribly wrong. Lounging now, with his head resting on his arm which was resting along the back of the couch he wasn't quite sure things even had gone wrong.
He tugged at the waist of his trousers, grimacing a little from the ache that had settled in his belly. As much from the alcohol as it was from the sharp pressure of his too tight belt digging into his hips and stomach. And as much from what he'd actually just said to Jayne... had he?... as either of those two things.
He pulled again at his belt, shifting uncomfortably and wishing he'd just worn suspenders like everyone else seemed to.
He glanced, cautiously at Jayne, and then quickly averted his gaze when he found the other man still blinking owlishly.
"Sorry... it slipped out..." He muttered sluggishly, making to stand before he felt a warm hand settle heavily on his bare forearm and a rush of heat spread through him like wildfire.
Chills and then fever- I think this patient may be in a world of trouble.
He gazed dumbly at the place where skin met skin and then followed the curve of wrist up the tightly strung cords under taut skin to well-muscled biceps and finally found that bowed, too-tan neck before staring into the devilishly grinning face of Jayne Cobb.
We've lost the rhythm! Clear!
"Care to repeat that, Doc?"
The slighter man drew back quickly to escape that touch. Curse the man! How could he do it? He'd had double what Simon could ever dream to drink. "Err... that is to say... N-no?" He stammered hopefully before glaring down at the giggling children that were huddled on the floor in front of them, adoring their town's hero.
Sitting on their knees, kneeling like a bunch of... kneelers. He glared again half-heartedly, since the first glare was met only with more snickering, before giving up.
Jayne chuckled at his embarrassment before seeming to take pity on the man and mock-growling in their direction. Jerking forward towards the rugrats not really meaning to stand, but sending them scattering with shrieks of terrified delight anyway.
He settled back in his seat again, too close for his fidgeting companion's comfort, and took a long draw from the bottle he was holding. Holding with the same long, work-calloused fingers that had been holding Simon's arm a few minutes previous... Oh God, he needed another drink. And to be knocked out, just for good measure.
"Now... what was it we were discussin'? Oh yeah," He raised his dark eyes again to catch Simon's own and the doctor found himself lost in the inky depths.
Pupils fully dilated. General sign of amblyopia, ischemic optic neuropathy, vitreous hemorrhaging, branch retinal vein occlusion... physical arousal...
Oh God, he really needed a drink... and unconsciousness- mustn't forget that... though not necessarily in that order.
Oops, the great Jayne Cobb was speaking again, "-about to tell me what exactly you meant by 'pretty'."
Simon scrubbed his face with his hands before running them raggedly through his hair and letting them rest, useless, in his lap.
Oh. Yeah. Things had gone terribly wrong... and that would be where it happened. He had been bragging about all the great medical feats he'd performed with his own two hands- he paused in thought to glare accusingly at the currently idle fingers which had so nimbly aided him in the past- even had enough liquor in him to tell Jayne about the hamster Kessian Phelps had named after him, earning some offhanded comment about hamsters being 'good eatin'. Had not thought there was enough alcohol on all the numerous worlds he had been on to get him to admit his feelings to Jayne Cobb.
Jayne. Cobb. Jayne "Psychotic Gun-slinger" Cobb. Jayne "Proud Owner of Vera" Cobb. Jayne "Savior of the Town" Cobb. Box-dropping, man-ape-gone-wrong Jayne Cobb. Jayne "Sitting Right in Front of Him and Looking Damned Amused that He'd Been Called Pretty" Cobb.
He really wished he could pass out from alcohol poisoning right now.
He must've glared at his hands just a bit longer than he'd intended, because when he looked up again Jayne was wearing the same mischievous grin he always did, but he seemed to have moved closer somehow. Huh. Wondered how he'd missed that.
"If you're going to kill me, can we at least make it quick?" He implored meekly.
Jayne leaned over even closer, Simon sinking back to accommodate him and losing his breath at the proximity. The rifleman was so close now he could smell every scent he'd always imagined there was. Whiskey, the good stuff. The hard peppermint candies he'd always 'procured' from Preacher's stash when he thought no one was looking. And something deeper and earthy... something... Jayne.
Jayne's arm settled around the back of the couch they shared, resting against the curve of Simon's shoulders and sending another spark of heat through him.
"No one said nothin' 'bout killin' you, Doc." His fingers brushed against one tensed shoulder, causing Simon to start under him and frantically wonder what people watching would think.
He supposed if someone glanced at them from behind, they would see two close friends, sharing a story or some such notion. Were it not for the fact that their savior's face was looming scant inches above his and that his fingers were gently, gently go figure, kneading the shoulder they now rested on.
Simon broke into a sudden sweat when Jayne began lowering his head and he was certain the room's temperature had jumped at least twenty degrees, because he was sweltering. He pulled his head back into the cushion a bit, causing Jayne to pause.
"Th-this isn't appropriate. Really, Jayne." He pushed weakly at the massive body that seemed to be towering over him, while said body snorted in amusement.
"Hell, Doc, I prob'ly can't even spell that damn word, right? 'Member," he leaned in closer, roughly brushing their lips together, "Man-ape gone wrong yer reasonin' with."
When he said it there was nothing but humor there, and Simon was too shocked by the... kiss? to think of any witty reply. So Jayne took it as his leave to really kiss the man.
As a surprisingly skillful tongue slipped into the recesses of his mouth, Simon closed his eyes, gripped the broad shoulders above him, and signed his mind out for the rest of the night.
Looks like we've lost him. Time of death...
Propriety be damned. He finally had the man right where he wanted him- or rather, was right where he wanted to be. He'd feel awful about drinking too much and being inappropriate and using the word 'damned', even if just in his head, in the morning.
Right now, he was just going... to...