A/N: Yes, I'm alive. I'm deciding whether or not to continue with The Crush... Anyway, this just came to me while listening to Bob & Tom talk about footie pajamas one morning.
River was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a tank top. She had one of her own sweatshirts on top, with the hood up and the drawstring pulled. She had wool socks on her feet and the entire bundle of River was wrapped up in the comforter.
Jayne, on the other hand, wore only a pair of sleep pants.
When he saw River on his bed, he frowned.
"C'mon, River, whatcha wearin' all them clothes fer? Feller cain't hardly get at his girl when she's all wrapped up," he complained.
She glared at him. "Just because you can survive in the most frigid of temperatures with comfort, does not mean that I can as well."
Jayne screwed up his face in confusion. "Frigid. That means like cold, right?"
River sighed in exasperation.
"Can you not raise the temperature?" she implored.
"Hells no! I'd be sweatin' like a dog, an' lemme tell ya, ya don't want that."
She believed him. But she wasn't going to remove any of her clothing and freeze. Was there no happy medium?
"What if the temperature was adjusted by only a few degrees?"
"No. Ain't gonna happen. This here's my bunk, girl, and it's gonna be my temp, dong ma?"
River knew Jayne would not back down. She also knew that she could not change the temperature without Jayne feeling emasculated.
They had reached an impasse. Unless...
River slept comfortably that night, in Jayne's very warm bunk, clad in nothing but her own skin.
As Jayne held her tight and had good dreams.