The whole concept of being a gentleman was a little lost on Jayne. He'd become the man of the Cobb house when he was twelve, after his Ma took a bullet for him from his Pa, and the old man skipped out of town as fast as he could. So with Ma in the hospital and Mattie constantly bed ridden, he'd dropped out of school and set out to put bread on the table. Just about everything he'd done had nothing to do with courtesy or manners. Just muscles and sweat and blood, getting the job done and getting his pay. The weight of his pocket always assured him he was doing good. This would feed his two most loved ladies, buy medicine and painkillers and whatever else they needed. He knew how to treat his mother and sister, two women frequently in pain or immobile. But how to treat a lady he wasn't related to was beyond him.
Mal, however, wasn't a lady. He didn't require wooing or fussing, not flowers and chocolates, he just wanted the solid reassurance that he had someone at his back in a crisis. The ruttin' was just a bonus.
Still, there were moments when Jayne simply knew that a solid foundation wasn't quite enough. When Mal's eyes darkened over with a veteran's shadows and his shoulders got heavy, the merc was out of his element. Violence and survival and lust he could do, but comfort? - he left that one for Kaylee and Zoe.
But he decided that had to change when Mal sat huddled in a corner of the cargo bay. Jayne crouched a ways from him, glancing around in desperation – gorram, why ain't Kaylee never here when you need her – but trying to focus on the Cap.
"Hey," he grunted, rougher than intended. "Y'alright?" Mal's face was buried in his forearm, but when his shoulders began to tremble Jayne panicked. "Hey now, don't get to tearin' up wit' me, I cain't take none o' that! Cain't see a grown man cry none, Mal!" They weren't comforting or encouraging words, he knew. They were pleading. As if he was the one who needed the reassurance, not Mal. Like he was the one who woke up screaming bloody murder near every night, brandishing a gorram knife from thin air and swinging it around. But Mal inhaled, and went very still for a mite longer than Jayne would have liked, then looked up with his eyes bloodshot as hell.
"'Pologies, big fella'," he murmured slowly, shakily, wetly. "Kinda lost my grip on meself there." And as Mattie would say, that was just the straw that broke the camel's back.
Hell knows he was a selfish man. He knew he was a selfish man. He'd learnt to be selfish when he realised the weight in his pocket wasn't enough. Realised Mattie needed more medication, and to hell with it if Jayne had to sacrifice some humanity if it kept his mèimei healthy. But that extra long second, that micro-second where Mal had just held his breath – why's it always about you Jayne, why cain't you just try for me – just made him snap.
Zoe had Wash when, like Mal, she just couldn't take it no more, and her man was there to sweep her off her feet and treat her like a queen. He made her laugh, melted that icy exterior and filled her smoky silence. Hell, Simon was the text book definition of manners and etiquette, which would have done the boy wonders if he could only think proper around a pretty girlie like Kaylee. Shepard Book rose from his seat when a lady walked in, offered his hand when they descended the ramp or the stairs, but dammit, Mal didn't need that. He weren't no woman, and treating him as one would only grind his gears much further. So what the hell did he need, coz Jayne weren't no woman neither. He needed affection, needed tenderness. He knew what Mal needed but was so gorram lost on how to do it. He couldn't tickle him like he could Mattie, couldn't crack a stupid joke like for his Ma. He knew what Mal needed.
"Jayne?" Inara's surprise was palpable, as was her discomfort and mistrust, which he couldn't really blame her for when he thought about it. "What is it?"
"Sorry for botherin' you, 'Nara. Y'ain't got no clients 'ave you?" Doe eyes with curled lashed stared up at him, but a strong lack of empathy gave him no clue as to what that might mean.
"No, I don't. What can I do for you?" She still didn't trust him, that's why she wasn't inviting him in. The companion and the mercenary weren't necessarily hating one another, but there was always a tinge of resentment when she looked at him – you're sleeping with the man of my dreams, you uncouth, vicious ape – but she didn't know what Jayne knew. Didn't know how often Mal would switch off the lights and only let him use his mouth and tongue, or how he'd bite out her name between heavy gasps. No, she didn't know that, and he wouldn't tell her if she didn't ask.
"Look, I need somethin' from ya, but it ain't real easy to ask for and it's kinda personal. Ain't what yer thinkin' it is, neither." Even her jerk of realisation was elegant, changing her expression from grim apprehension to schooled indifference. "'S regardin' Mal." She raised a well plucked, almost sculpted eye brow and leaned away from the door jamb. She folded her arms over those supple, pouting breasts he was trying so damn hard not to stare at beneath that burgundy satin.
"What is this about, Jayne?," she asked firmly, as if she was speaking to a 6'4 toddler. He swallowed and cast his eyes up and down the cat walk – no one in sight, no one in hearing range – and one just can't build trust if they don't grant it first, not in his position with Inara. So he cleared his throat and lowered his chin.
"Y'know how Mal gets. When he's actin' all wily or depressed cuz o' somethin', an' how it's always you or lil' Kaylee or the Shepard settlin' his calm?" She nods slowly, following with a genuine intrigue on Jayne's train of thought. "I gotta know how to do that."
"To do what?"
"To be able to..." He looked away, eye brows drawing together and gritting his teeth, staring frostily at the wall beside her door. She blinked those glassy brown eyes slowly, processing and considering him, until her painted lips parted.
"To console him," she finished for him. "How to be comforting and loving, rather than brutish and greedy and in all honesty, a complete wángbā dàn." He flicked his eyes to and away from her, lips twisting so he could chew on a loose piece of skin rather irritatedly. "Why should I help you?" She had no reason to do so for his benefit, least of all for her own. It was in her nature to put another person's needs before her desires, but again she had no reason to give Jayne anything he wanted. But she had cause to teach him for another purpose.
"Coz Mal wants me to, and I cain't do it on my own, 'Nara. I ain't doin' it for me, I'm doing it coz I need to give him somethin' in return. You gotta gimme a hand here, bǎobǎo, coz it's what he needs an' you an' I both..." He stopped. He didn't need to say anymore, when her expression simply dropped. She wasn't cold anymore, but still far from warm. Some kind of cool sadness where she inwardly began to roll in self-pity. Her gaze drifted to his boots and the floor, hair sliding over her ear and ornate jewellery to cover her eyes as she silently mourned for herself.
"For him," she whispered, his acute hearing the only thing allowing him to hear her. He licked his lower lip nervously, then with the hand that wasn't leaving finger tip-sized dents in the door frame, he brushed the hair from her face and put it to rights again. She lifted her head, considering the wall of muscle and merc at her door before taking a step back and opening an arm as a gesture for him to enter. And he obliged.
He'd been in Inara's shuttle a total of three times before now; when they first met, in which she had quickly decided the sweaty, cussing mercenary was very much unwelcome in her abode. Second when she was ill and Kaylee had instructed him to bring her soup while she worked on the engine, and third when a fire had erupted within Serenity and Mal had ordered everyone but himself off the ship. It was always warm, that kind of fuzzy warm you feel when you lay next to the fire place on a snowy day, smelling of spices from the incense lining her shelves. So full of rich colours, his mouth began to water like he was looking inside an exquisite box of expensive chocolates.
The door shut behind him and she all but glided across the width of the room, keeping her distance, under the guise of pouring herself some tea, knowing full well he hated the hot drink. "What is it that you wish for me to teach you?" Here, he paused and focused his stare on a draping piece of crimson velvet on the ceiling, batting at it idly when it brushed against his face.
"I dunno," he grunted quietly. "Whad'ya suggest?" She peered over her shoulder, tea cup just short of pressing to her lips, before turning away again.
"You wish to please him emotionally rather than physically, correct?"
"Yeah, sum'mit like that."
"Then perhaps we should start with how you look at him." The companion placed the small cup back on her table, then turned to Jayne. "When you look at him, what do you see?"
His brow furrowed. The obvious answer was a damn tasty man with dashing good looks and a biting sense of humour. But questions Inara threw around never really wanted the obvious. "I see... someone I care about." She nodded in approval.
"Good. Do you know how to express that care in a non-sexual way?" He winced, still refusing to look directly at her.
"I seen Wash get all romantic and mushy wit' Zoe, but if I thought that'd work for Mal I wouldn't be here right now." She nodded again, a ghost of an amused smile on her lips at that. "Doc ain't got a clue how to talk to girls, so he ain't no help neither. And Shepard..."
"I see." She took a moment to remove the burnt out stub from her last stick of incense, replacing it with a much sweeter smelling one. "What about outside the ship?," she asked. "Your parents, for example." A slightly wheezy groan caught her attention, and she turned to see the merc looking even more uncomfortable than before.
"My folks weren't lovey-dovey none."
"No?"
"Pa liked his Whiskey a lil' too much. Came home blasted near every night an' pasted Ma an' me somethin' fierce."
"I'm sorry," she said with sincerity, eyes filling with sympathy and standing. "I didn't know."
"An' why would ya? Less Mal's been flappin' his gums, no one else on this boat should know." Inara nodded slowly, then paused, pondering that piece of information.
"I assume those experiences with your Father are to blame for your... disposition?"
"Y' mean why I'm an insensitive húndàn?," he helpfully supplied. "Might have sum'mit to do wit' it."
"I see." She then inhaled, composing herself for whatever purpose, then exhaled slowly and turned those doe eyes back up at him. "You've always had a rough and tough attitude about you, and other than your weapons, I've never seen you treat anything gently."
"Ain't true," Jayne protested. "Treat Kaylee an' Moon-brain plenty gentle. When they ain't comin' at me wit' ruttin' kitchen knives."
"In which case, I'll be lenient with that one," she conceded, that almost-smile appearing again. "I have to admit, you do seem to have a soft spot for them. You may be surprised to hear it, but you're not always as alone as you might think when you're brushing River's hair for her in the mess hall." Jayne growled in embarrassment, eyes narrowing away from her and gritting his teeth again. "But I meant in a romantic sense, rather than endearing fondness. I can't imagine you being affectionate in bed, either." Damn companions, never flustered or ashamed to bring up sex in a conversation.
"Well I ain't against a lil' snugglin' in the sack... within reason..." Inara raised an eye brow, almost looking smug with herself. Jayne wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean.
"Not what I meant." He snorted and snapped his head downwards, the closest he'd come to facing her so far as he focused on her shoes. "Jayne."
"Yeah?"
"Look at me." He winced again, but slowly and reluctantly obeyed, raising his head and eyes until they lingered hazily on her face. She had her hands folded against her stomach, looking almost like she was steeling herself. "What do you see?" That'd be why, apprehension for whatever Jayne might have as a response.
"... A real purdy woman that a damn lotta' people love and respect, and even more that want her in their bed," he replied lowly. "But a woman I promise I ain't never gonna turn on. I ain't my Pa, 'Nara, I wouldn't never hurt a woman unless they meant me harm. Even then, just like every other gal on this boat, I'd have a hell'uva hard time harmin' you." She looked surprised, eyes widening all of a sudden. "Yer nice, like my Ma."
"... Thank you," the woman breathed shakily, obviously having steadied herself for the wrong purpose and was unprepared for a compliment from Jayne. "And... when you look at Mal, what do you see?"
"I already done answered that."
"Answer it again," she insisted. "Like you did when you described me." He inhaled deeply and looked above her head, musing over this in his mind.
"I see... someone beautiful, but not the same as you or Zoe. Handsome, sure, but beautiful," he started pensively, nibbling on that loose piece of skin on his lip again. "He can be damn scary sometimes, I reckon I've seen all sorts of sides to him prob'ly no one but Zoe has. Even when he's ruttin' angry with blood all over his hands, or sittin' in a corner cryin' like a baby, he's beautiful, 'Nara. I ain't never thought anyone was so beautiful, even my own mèimei." She stared at him for a moment, as if seeing something utterly incredible for the very first time, then nodded, slower than before.
"Why can't you be like this more often," she murmured. "So sincere and kind, like a timid child innocently spilling his heart."
He scowled, though not specifically at her. "I ain't been no child since the days my Pa'd come home to me cowerin' under the table." She bit her lip, closing her eyes and most likely mentally kicking herself, it seemed.
"Alright," she finally gulped. "I will teach you how to show Mal all those things." This time it was him that nodded, watching her like some kind of bird of prey.
"Xièxiè," he said, catching her by surprise once again.
She straightened up, fixing him with those dark, sparkling eyes that could take any man's breath away. "Come here. Slowly." He obeyed, taking uncertain, dragged-out steps towards her one at a time. "You're looming. Straighten up." Again, he obeyed and straightened his back. "Loosen your shoulders." Now for the more intimate part, she thought uneasily. "Put your arm around my waist. Gently. Like you are tending to one of your guns." His brow furrowed, but he reached out his arm hesitantly, pausing and reconsidering which direction to approach her with it. He eventually let his arm drift around her back, though a dramatic height difference meant it rested just beneath her shoulder blades. "Don't be afraid to lift him up slightly, it's alright to compensate for your height." Jayne nodded and carefully slid his arm down her back, and she found herself being lifted to the tips of her toes, though all of her weight rested in the muscles of the crook of his elbow.
She placed her delicate hands against his chest for balance, gasping softly at the sudden lift and being so close to Jayne's face. He watched her with growing discomfort, so she licked her lips and forced herself to reassure him. "You said once that you don't kiss on the mouth..."
"Only whores and floozies," he replied, far softer than usual. "Which neither Mal or you are." She smiled as softly as he spoke.
"In that case, kiss him with as much care and delicacy as though you were holding a shard of ice. You want him to melt, not shatter." He visibly winced, then slowly leaned towards her, pausing just short of their lips brushing. Their breath mingled between them, and for a moment Inara thought Jayne might actually be waiting for her to push him away. She lightly dug her finger tips into his shirt as a form of permission, and he carefully crushed their lips together. Her clients kissed her frequently - they just couldn't keep their lips off of her - but perhaps it was the knowledge that it was Jayne being so soft and tender that made her gasp. A hulk of a man with a violent disposition whose actions were mostly driven by anger, greed and fear, holding and kissing her as though she were a delicate rose.
She remembered her role as instructor, taking hold of his free arm and guiding it around her, placing his big hand between her shoulders. Even his touch was unbelievably domesticated and benign, his fingers strong and palms warm, cradling her weight so effortlessly.
And this, she thought, Is all for him. Inara couldn't help but smile warmly against Jayne's lips at that, which seemed to confuse him, so he cautiously broke away. He licked his lips anxiously, gradually lowering her back onto the flats of her feet. She kept that smile on her face, looking up at him with that warm, welcoming expression. "Jayne..."
"Was... was that any good?" She might have laughed at how intimidated he sounded, hands drifting away like she was made of acid and knives.
Inara nodded once, placing a hand against his shoulder lightly. "If something like that doesn't calm or delight Mal in any way, he's truly a madman." He made a sound that was some kind of cross between a choke and a chuckle, eyes searching the floor for nothing in particular. She then reached for her dresser and pulled out a hand cloth she used to remove her make-up, turning to Jayne and rubbing at his lips, removing the lip stick she'd smeared over them. "You know, more of one than we originally thought."