Masculine Wiles
Summary: It's another Robin Hood mission. This time, they need a male companion to provide a distraction. How does Mal adjust to his new disguise?
A/N: This is my first Firefly fanfic. Please read and review!
It was another Robin Hood mission. Rob from the rich, give back to the rightfully-owning poor. This time, though, the treasure weren't coin. It was an artifact of special religious significance on the devout and churchly planet of Toboggan. It had been stolen (well, technically bought) by Senator Gail Wynand, an Alliance high official whose ruthlessness was only exceeded by her love of pomp. The Senator wanted to embed the gold-leaf encrusted crucifix into the ornate front door of her palace so that people could gawk and stare and touch it. To the Senator, it was both a piece of exotica and a demonstration of her power over Rim planets- that she could take their most prized possessions and put them to the most frivolous uses. She'd bought the relic with a combination of exorbitant amounts of coin and equally exorbitant threats. The Mayor of Toboggan had been helpless to refuse.
The problem was, the citizens of Toboggan prized that crucifix, not for its workmanship or its gold, but because it contained a bit of finger-bone from a saint from Earth-that-was. Mal nodded along, not very interested, as Shepherd Book told him all about how the saint, some guy called Francis the Sissy, abandoned his worldly possessions and preached to the people to be nice and gentle-like to the little birdies and the fuzzy-wuzzies. As a youth Mal would've gone wide-eyed and worshipful, but since the War he'd had no use for these kinds of stories.
Still, the people of Toboggan cared enough about the relic that (so the Mayor said) they all donated sizable chunks of their meager income to pay for its safe return. Mal somehow doubted that it was entirely voluntary. More like the Mayor imposed a tax and they didn't have no choice but to pay up. But that wasn't his problem. It was good coin, and the Shepherd seemed to approve of the mission, and Mal had done plenty worse. With the pay from this they could get some real food and per-maybe-haps replace that compression coil that Little Kaylee was always whining about.
Inara came down to the dining area to make herself a cup of tea just as Mal was briefing the rest of the crew on the mission and soliciting ideas. Senator Wynand's security system was above reproach, so it'd have to take a good deal o' pondering to figure out how to get in and steal her precious little treasure.
"Senator Wynand?" she repeated. "Senator Gail Wynand, of the New Manhattan System?"
"That's the one," said Mal, "though I don't see why you're so interested in the next round of petty theft we're tryin' to plan."
"I know her," said Inara. "She's known to all of us in The Guild."
"She's a Companion?" asked Kaylee.
"No. She's a client. One of our most notorious ones."
That caught Jayne's attention. "A client?" he asked. "A woman?"
"Why is she notorious, Inara?" asked Book.
"Well," said Inara, settling herself into a seat, "she contracts with us very often for a male Companion. She's been through most of the male Companions that we have. Every time a young man finishes his training, she contracts him. But she's never satisfied. She gives us an earful after every appointment about how inadequate her experience has been. She often reduces the Companions to tears. It's become something of an initiation rite among our male students to go through her first."
"Hold the phone," said Kaylee. "MALE companions? As in, pretty cultured boys that service girl-folk?" Her pupils dilated comically.
"Yes," said Inara, "though many of them take male clients too. Some of them take only male clients."
"Oooooooh," said Kaylee, melting into a puddle of longing and lust. Jayne looked at her curiously and a trifle lecherously. Simon blanched.
"Why are we talking about this?" asked Mal in his best captain-y voice. "We're here to discuss the plan, not to gossip about the sordid private lives of Senators and their whores."
"Actually," said Wash slowly, "this little bit of intel is giving me an idea."
All eyes turned to Wash.
"Go on," said Mal.
"Well, we haven't exactly been able to come up with tactical ways to breach her security system," said Wash, "despite trying very hard, and harnessing every ounce of our genius brains, but this is the first weakness that I've heard of about this Senator."
"It ain't a weakness!" said Kaylee, stung.
"Hell, I'd think she were weak if she didn't want sexin'," echoed Jayne.
"What I mean is we can use this," continued Wash. "Inara says she's always on the lookout for new male Companions. Well, what if we were to offer a male Companion that she's never even heard of before? A new one that might tickle her fancy? That might distract her, don't you think?"
"Hmmm," said Mal. "Wash, I think you might have something there."
All eyes turned to Simon.
He blinked at them, confused, and then it hit him what they were thinking.
"Oh no," he stuttered. "No no no no no."
"Why not? You look the part more'n the rest of the menfolk on board, I'm sure," said Wash.
"But I, uh, no," said Simon.
Jayne dropped his fork and knife. "I'll do it," he said. "Gettin' paid for gettin' trim? Hell, best deal I ever had." He grinned wolfishly.
"Jayne," said Inara in a half-amused, half-warning tone. "There's more to being a Companion than 'getting trim.' A Companion must be able to provide stimulation for the mind, body, and soul. He or she has to be refined and cultured, with a classical education, able to talk intelligently about a variety of topics, and responsive to the client's needs above all else. Besides," she continued, "I don't think the Senator is your type. She's easily twenty years older than you."
"Ain't got nothin' 'gainst old trim. They know what they're doin'," grumbled Jayne, but he seemed to see the logic in Inara's words. There was no way he could pretend to be all educated and ree-fined in front of a Senator. "Unless she's been un-satisfied with her Companions so far because that fancified go-se cuts into her sexin' time?"
"It's possible, but I don't think we should take that chance," said Inara, a smile in her voice. She turned to Simon. "Simon, really, it's not such an awful experience. I'm sure that with a small amount of coaching, you'll play the part admirably."
"Over my dead body," said Kaylee, coming out of her girl-puddle at last.
"Kaylee, you don't exactly get a say in what the Doc does," said Wash.
"No no no, it's really all right, Kaylee, if you don't want me to do it I won't do it," said Simon, obviously relieved.
"She's got a point. Despite his pasty face and fancy-ass ways, Top Three Percent's still a wanted fugitive," said Mal. "Wash?"
"Over YOUR dead body, sir," said Zoe, clutching her husband's arm too tight. Wash tried not to grin.
"Well, Jayne's out of the question, and the Shepherd is too, obviously, so it looks like we're back where we started," said Mal helplessly.
"Unless…"
Everyone looked around. No one had seen River come into the room.
She emerged from under the table, where she'd been hiding, quiet as a mouse. "Skin plated gold, shiny gleaming through the cracks in certain angles. Does not tarnish. Makes the girl want to see more. Unravel. Fish-bowl soul. Swimming with secrets, fast swimmers, glimmers of swimmers hard to catch."
"River?" said Simon, concerned. Did he need to give her another smoother? River was counting on her fingers and staring into space, with the moon-brained look that so chilled Jayne.
"Plain face, rough features, scars. Fractals of copper underneath. Delicate."
"River, sweetie, can you tell us what you mean in dummy-talk?" asked Kaylee, though Jayne just wished the moon-brain would shut up.
River sighed. "Captain Daddy should do it," she explained. "Also, nice ass."
