A/N- I own nothing. This is a loosely connected follow-up to "A Bunk of One's Own," though the previous fic shouldn't be necessary for understanding this one. While I don't go out of my way to ship Jaylee, I'm willing to pose the question: "Why not?" It makes for preseries plotbunnies, anyway. Rating for vague but clear impropriety. Hey, it's Jayne and Kaylee, whaddya want?


Upon later, much more sober reflection, the engine hooch had been a bad idea. Offering Jayne Cobb a drink in return for some of his stories had probably not been the brightest idea, either, but at least it got the bored mercenary out of Mal's hair for a while, and it had certainly made her night a lot more interesting.

"You sure you ain't too busy to entertain? Six weeks o' the Black gotta be hard on an engine," Jayne observed partway through one of his raunchier tales that Mal wouldn't let him share at the table.

"Serenity's runnin' just fine, though I could stand a little tender lovin' care," Kaylee replied. She didn't mean to complain, - Mal was like the protective big brother she never had and Inara told such amazing stories of her decadent, romantic adventures and Wash and Zoe renewed the young woman's faith in true love - but the world was getting sloshy, her tongue was getting loose, and Jayne was starting to look mighty fuzzy. Much more alcohol and Kaylee would be wishing for something besides stories and brothers and watching true love from a distance. Well, she did want something for herself, but she was willing to wait, wasn't she? Waiting didn't mean that she couldn't have any fun, though... And who knows where this might lead? Kaylee set her cup down, hitting the table after spilling only a little booze.

The big merc reached out to steady her. He was really gentle when he wanted to be… "Think I might could help with that."

Things had actually gone just shiny until Mal arrived, bursting in as usual. "Is everyone on my gorram ship pairin' off? Am I talkin' to myself here? I need a sign."

"Aw, Cap'n, it's just sex," Kaylee assured, hitching up her tangled overalls. "Don't mean we like you any less."

"Kinda hard for Jayne to do, anyway," Mal muttered, giving the half-clothed man a burning stare.

"If you want, I'll trade you for Inara," Jayne offered. "Don't make that much difference to me."

"Don't think I haven't tried," Kaylee cut the merc off, passing him his shirt. She gave Mal a jokey smile, but he didn't return it. Neither did Jayne, but he had a shirt over his head.

"You'll have to work that out with her, but for now, I need you outta my engine room." The captain gave his mercenary a hard look and pointed a thumb towards the door. Jayne marched. "You all right, mei mei?"

"He didn't force me or nothin'; we were just workin' off a little buzz," Kaylee reassured him, gathering up the rest of her clothes. "You remember how I joined this crew."

Mal scratched his head sheepishly. "Yeah, but you ain't a whore. Jayne loves women, but he leaves 'em just as quick. You're too good a mechanic to lose you to some fit o' brokenheartedness."

She turned away, clutching her shirt to her chest. "I ain't goin' nowhere, Mal."

Jayne had invited her to his bunk the next night, but Kaylee turned him down, asking for a raincheck. There was an odd creak in the engine room that needed looking into, and something was wrong with the lights. They weren't brightening the place properly. It was probably just that they'd been too long in the Black. Solars weren't much good without some ready sunshine.