Fic Title: Shore Leave How about Drunk Jayne locked himself in the weapons closet.
Fandom: Firefly
Rating: M, for mentions of prostitutes, fighting, and gambling.
Challenge: bayouskye said: Damn, has your interests list changed since we first met! LOL!
It was a rare man that left a saloon with any of his money intact after a particularly long hall. Jayne was certainly no exception. There was nothing quite like one hundred and eighty days of seeing, hearing, smelling three women and not being able to touch a one that had a man wanting to grab the first plump butt he could get his hands on.
Possibly even three or four butts. It had been a lot easier to handle when Wash and Book were there to buffer all the overwhelming frilliness.
Jayne lay nestled between three sleeping hookers, smoking one of those tiny black tubes of tobacco the girls here called cheroots. Apparently a local tobacconist had seen one described in an old book and decided to duplicate it. It wasn't bad.
This was kinda nice after spending so long in the black. The low-budget lighting mellowed his nerves and drained the tension from his shoulders better than a long romp in the sack. Not that he wasn't happily availing himself of both.
He leaned over to check his chronometer. He had thirty-six more hours of leave, according to the soft green digital display. His eyebrows rose in alarm. That wasn't much time at all.
The big mercenary extricated himself from the women with silent efficiency. He left a pile of credits on the table next to the door and locked it as he left, still buttoning his pants as he walked down the hall.
He was on a schedule.
~*~
Good whiskey, good tobacco, and a killer hand of poker. Jayne couldn't help his stupid grin. The men around the table eyed him in disgust. It was just plain wrong for a man to look that damned happy.
Once all the cards were on the table, his grin grew bigger. He reached out to scrape the winnings onto his portion of the table.
A heavy hand slammed down on the card table. "You cheated." The dark one-eyed man seated across the table snarled.
Jayne checked his chron. Twelve hours until report. He was right on time. He finished scraping his winnings into his bag before he stood.
"Did you just call me a cheater?" He demanded. He only waited until the other man's chin lifted in defiance, putting it at the perfect angle for Jayne's right cross.
Good whiskey, good tobacco, good money, and a good fight. One might indeed call this heaven.
~*~
When the completely off-key singing wafted down into the engine room, Kaylee checked the time. It was precisely four hours until they were all supposed to report back to duty. Once again, she marveled at Jayne's timing.
Wait, was he singing-
"...the hero of Canton, the man they call -hick!- Jayne."
He WAS. Kaylee clapped a hand over her mouth to contain her laughter.
Jayne seemed to lose the lyrics, he mumbled along for a few bars before he picked it up again, albeit a mite mangled. "And I'm the hero of Canton! I'm the man they call Jayne!"
Truth be told, he really could use some lessons, or a gag. Kaylee moved closer to the door of the engine room, hoping to hear more.
"Simon says you're drunk." River's matter-of-fact voice carried just as well as Jayne's singing. Kaylee's eyes widened in alarm. This could get ugly.
"What?" Jayne sounded confused. Not surprising, River confused Jayne at least once a day before breakfast.
"Drunk." She paused. "Sloshed, canned, crocked, cooked up, bashed, buzzed, soused, pissed, shit-faced-"
"Stop!" Jayne's outburst was followed by a series of hiccups. "Why, yes, Miss Tam, I am indeed inebriated." Kaylee had to suppress another giggle. Jayne could only get out the big words when he wasn't sober.
"If you don't stop staring at my breasts, I'll have to lock you in the weapons closet." River said warningly.
"But they're so little and cute," Jayne protested.
Kaylee squeaked as the sounds of a scuffle followed. Low grunts followed by a yowl and a door slam. Kaylee winced, and wondered if she should go help Jayne to his bunk. She climbed out of the engine room, intent on helping.
"Kaylee." Mal stood at the end of the hall, relaxed against the bulkhead. A small almost-smile played around his lips. "Leave him sleep it off." For a second, Kaylee thought she saw PRIDE shining from the Captain's eyes. "Learn our muscle a lesson about ogling young ladies."
Kaylee had to bite her tongue against a pot and kettle comment. She'd seen the looks that passed between the captain and River. Her face turned red with the effort. "Aye, Cap'n." She forced herself to turn back to the engine room.
"Diagnostics almost run the course, Captain. We'll be ready two hours early thanks be to that new coupler we got last port," she commented over her shoulder. Later, after the captain was gone and her work was done, she'd wrestle Jayne out of the closet and into his quarters. If she poked him in the ribs enough, he'd be somethin' close to awake, and she wouldn't be disobeying captain's orders.
Well, he'd never yelled at her before.
Author's note: I maintain that taunting River after a threat like that equals doing it to yourself.