"You hear somethin'?"

Mal looked up at Jayne's suggestion, away from the bent and faded cards in his hand. Jayne, his own hand of cards now lying facedown on the table in front of him, had his head cocked at a neat, 45 degree angle with eyes staring questionably over at the door across the room. He knew something was up whenever his mercenary got his brows knitted in that certain way—whether something really was going on or Jayne was losing it, neither of which he really wanted to mull over too much. After a long pause, Mal's ears tuned to his surroundings to perhaps pick up on whatever Jayne had heard, Wash's head popped up from his own hand of cards.

"Hey, are we playing a different game now? Why was I not informed?"

"Shut up for a second, would ya?" Jayne stifled the pilot with a wave of his hand. Wash made the universal sign of surrender by holding his hands up in a mix of indifference and defense. Mal cocked his eyebrow at Wash, who gave a wide-eyed shrug as if to say 'your mercenary' or perhaps 'I wash my hands of you,' he hadn't quite gotten every Wash-ism down.

"This whatever-it-is-you-hear—it cause for alarm on my part or can my pilot and I continue our little game here?" Mal asked, folding his arms to stare Jayne down. The merc blinked a few times, as if registering Mal's presence for the first time, then shook his head.

"Naw, I got it." He stood, laying a hand on the gun at his hip for emphasis. Mal nodded, leaning back in his chair and returning his gaze to the cards. Thankfully, Jayne was already headed out the door to the cargo hold when Wash rolled his eyes.

Jayne was used to hearing what other people didn't. Trained ears of a merc, was what they called them. Jayne liked to claim he could hear a cat padding along a dust road five houses down from his own when he was a child. He also liked to sit at his window and pelt passing birds with his slingshot. A tight smirk took his face; good times, good times. Pulling the gun from its holster, he slowed his approach as he stepped onto the noisy grating to lessen the sound of his movements.

The sound was louder out here, and amplified by the acoustics of the cargo hold. Those two idiots in the galley had to be goin' deaf not to hear this. The sound was definitely moving, and out of the bay. If he thought right, it was headed for the cockpit. Sure steps on the grating assured no audible footsteps as he followed. Stealth had never been his favorite, but sometimes its was best to find what he was up against before he charged in, guns blazing. Hell, he was spending too much time around that gorram Shepherd.

He froze in his tracks as he entered the corridor leading to the cockpit. Silhouetted by the evening light-setting and the darkness surrounding them outside stood a lithe form he was familiar with. Too familiar with? He restrained a frustrated sigh as he lowered his gun. She did this to him too often. Luckily, she kept moving away from him, for the cockpit, as if she hadn't noticed his presence. The gun fastened securely at his side, he cocked his head to listen.

Was she singing?

No, it was more like humming—like she'd forgotten the words. It was light and airy, how her voice got when she was having one of her fits. It was a breathy little tune, one that nibbled at the back of his head like he should know it. Her little form took the steps up to the cockpit, empty now that Wash had joined the captain in the galley. Jayne noiselessly followed. No knowing what she might do with those sensitive instruments Wash was so protective of. No need for the gun—yet.

She stood with her back to the doorway, staring blankly out into the Black dotted with white stars that winked back at her. Her hands lay pensively on top of one another on the back of Wash's chair, and her head was gently tilted at an angle. The humming proceeded, softly, as Jayne stood just outside the cockpit. As he opened his mouth to alert her to his presence, her head cocked in the opposite direction, still staring at the stars.

"Heard you coming," she offered in the same sing-song voice as if she had never stopped humming.

Jayne, brow furrowed in a displeased way, looked to his feet at the boots that had surely made all the ruckus she was implying. She shook her head, never looking back at him. Slowly, she raised one hand from the seat before her and pointed one slim finger at the side of her head.

"I heard you coming," she said again, poking her temple with emphasis. "Noisy thoughts for such an empty head."

"Hey," Jayne answered, standing behind her and crossing his arms, "that ain't fair. Just 'cause you're smarter n' a boxful of brains don't mean I got an empty head."

The finger at her temple flattened, and she pressed a comforting palm there instead. "Jayne's grammar is atrocious."

"I'm takin' that as a compliment." He paused, glad down inside that she wasn't turning around to stare with those huge eyes of hers. After a moment, he shifted his weight. "What you doin' up here anyway? Cap'n's worried you're gonna pull a circuit or somethin'."

"Is not," she countered. "You are."

"Gorramit, girl," he breathed, rolling his eyes. "If I wanted you in my head I'd put ya there myself." He didn't even realize that'd come out strange until he saw River's shoulders tense. He could've smacked his hand against his forehead, but he felt that wouldn't improve matters and refrained. "Well, you know what I mean."

She nodded; she knew everything everyone meant, and especially when they were lying. It was mighty unsettling sometimes, and handy other times. Right now, it was more than a little embarrassing to know his whole head was like a tasty pie laid out before her for the taking.

He was surprised by her girlish giggle, a sound he didn't hear too often. Something like a bell, high and tinkly, clear and silver. She turned her head to glance at him over her shoulder, pleased to find the expression she did.

"Less of a pie," she told him, hair dangling in her eyes, "more of a steak. Must cut carefully around the fat and the gristle to the tender bits inside." That line between his eyebrows appeared again as he scrutinized her. She did not back down. "Pie is from Kaylee—too sweet sometimes."

A gruff, diverting laugh as he took an excuse to look at the stars before them. "Y' got that right. Girl's more annoyin' than a ray of sunshine up the ass most of the time. Don't even wanna think what hearin' her brain is like."

"Jayne is easiest," she muttered as she looked to her folded hands on the back of the pilot's chair. "No unnecessary thoughts, little sentiment, minimal debating." One finger drew an absent circle on the back of her other hand. "I like listening to Jayne."

After a moment of contemplating what kind of thoughts he'd been having recently, he nearly stumbled backward out of the cockpit. "Hey, no one wants a little moonbrain stickin' her mind where it don't belong! Man's got to have some private time in his head once in a while! I don't wanna have t' watch what I think just 'cause you're snoopin' around where you shouldn't…"

"A lullaby," she said after a quiet lull. Jayne's mind did a double-take.

"What?"

"Why's that sound so gorram familiar?" River imitated Jayne's low, gruff voice with surprising accuracy. "Now 's gonna be diggin' at my brain all night."

"That's just plain disturbin'," he muttered under his breath.

"Mother wouldn't sing. Improper for girls with my potential to hear songs about elderly women overburdened with children living inside of a shoe. Simon would sing when they weren't listening, already in bed. A better doctor than a singer." The edges of her lips turned up, and Jayne unthinkingly mirrored her. "The words get lost in the gray inside my head. It's all muddled inside, covered with dust under layers of what's not mine. It's not mine…" She stared intently down at her hands to will the sadness back inside her where she usually locked it.

Jayne drummed his fingers on the doorframe, looking at his feet. An internal nod, and he glanced up. "Hum it again."

She turned her head, reading his eyes more than his mind to decipher whether or not he was leading her on. Finally, she turned to face him completely, hands clutched before her with fingers interlaced. The little airy voice floated from her again in the same pretty tones—she might've had a good singing voice if she ever found out those words. She hadn't quite noticed that the sadness had dissipated as she watched Jayne drum his fingers in time to the lull of the song, watching his feet intently as if they were the ones searching for the song.

As the last strain left her, she heard Jayne's voice chime in with: "Dear moon princess, marry me."

She nearly jumped at the revelation, eyes shock-wide as Jayne looked up for conformation. She nodded excitedly. "Moon Princess," she muttered. "Moon Princess's Lullaby. Jayne has discovered the lullaby."

He waved it off, crossing his arms.

"Ma used to sing it," she said, taking one step closer. "Never told her how much I liked it. At least it won't be diggin' at my brain no more."

"Now, I told you to keep outta my head!"

"Can't help it. Empty head echoes. I can hear you in my sleep, sometimes."

That took him more off-guard than he expected, and the two stood facing one another for a gapped moment, completely thoughtless.

"JAYNE!" Mal's voice echoing from the other end of the corridor almost sent the merc flying backward down the steps to the cockpit. "What the hell was that noise you pretended to hear so Wash wouldn't steal you blind?" Somewhere behind Mal at the darkened edge of the corridor, Jayne heard Wash mutter, "It's a gift" and nothing else.

"Nothin'," Jayne shouted back, moving to block River from either of their sights. "Space monkeys, Cap'n."

"Well, get your ass back here and help me recoup my losses! You ain't got a poker face worth a damn, but you sure as hell can intimidate this little son-of-a-whore to give me back my hard-earned coin!"

"There in a tick, Mal," Jayne answered loud and clear. Mal and Wash muttered between them as they retreated back to the galley, footsteps echoing loudly. He turned sharply to meet doe-brown eyes staring up at him. He jabbed a finger into the space between them before she could say anything. "No more sneakin' into my head. Go bother someone else's brain." And as he thought of something else, "and don't tell no one 'bout what's in my head, neither. Unsettlin' enough knowin' you're in there."

"And tell no one you know a lullaby."

"Damn straight."

"Goodnight, Jayne."

"…'Night."

He stalked away, not bothering masking his footsteps this time and trying not to linger on that dewy look she'd given him. "Lullaby," he muttered, shooting a glance over his shoulder at her silhouette blotted against the Black. "Gorram… little…"

AN: Hey there, Browncoats! Just popping my head in here to mention that this is the second in a prospective series of five, based on the five human senses. The first was Apples, dealing with smell. I don't know if I should explain which fics are which sense, cuz I think it's pretty self-explanitory. Tell me what you think, and if you liked this, please go read its predecessor. Also, this is my first time trying Mal and Wash, please tell me what you think. Okay, thanks much for reading, and I hope you had a good time!