Firefly and everything affiliated with it belongs to Joss Whedon, the show's creator.
These two are WAY too much fun to write. Seriously! I'm supposed to be studying for an exam next week, or at the very least working on the latest chapter for A Stir of Blood, yet here I am, typing away more River and Jayne stuff. It's like an adorable disease, or something.
Pre-Rayne friendship, takes place after Miranda. Enjoy!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In Cahoots
"They're up to something."
Inara glanced at the captain over her shoulder, fingers poised over her box of green tea. Mal was squinting suspiciously at Jayne and River, who were sitting quietly next to each other at the table. The mercenary was – what else? – polishing his vast collection of guns, brows furrowed in concentration, while the young girl at his side was busy drawing.
The companion raised a flawlessly arched eyebrow. "You mean sitting?"
"How come he ain't yellin' at her and she ain't pesterin' him? They been actin' all cozy with each other for the last month and it's just . . . creepifyin'."
Inara laughed. "Cozy? Mal, they're not doing anything. Granted, it's a little out of character for Jayne to be so indulgent, but I imagine he's just gotten used to her. She's his partner, after all."
"But . . . creepifyin'!" he said again, emphatically, as though she hadn't heard him the first time. Neither Jayne nor River looked like they were even aware of the conversation taking place.
"Oh, honestly," Inara scoffed, pouring hot water into her cup. "At least they're not bickering anymore, or threatening to kill each other."
He sipped noisily from his mug and then stared down into it with a frown on his face. "And another thing," he continued, "what's with this real coffee? What happened to the instant mix stuff?"
"Now you're complaining about having decent coffee?"
"You tellin' me you don't think it's weird havin' new equipment poppin' up all random-like, with no one ownin' up to it?" he demanded, his eyes landing on the mysterious new coffee maker that had shown up without explanation on the kitchen counter a while ago. A new laundry machine followed soon after, as well as a new fuel tank for the mule, and even some pillows to go with the couch in the common area. Nobody was taking any credit, which baffled the captain all the more.
"Strange, yes, but I'm sure there's a reason for it. Serenity's been doing well lately. Perhaps someone decided to upgrade a few things with their pay."
"Yeah, but who, gorramit?" Mal queried, sounding closer to a whine than Inara had ever heard from him. She patted his arm comfortingly.
"Don't dwell on it, Mal. Just sit back and appreciate some new luxuries. I think you've earned it," she soothed.
"Just a lotta weird stuff happenin' on my boat, is all," he grumbled. "One o' these days I'm gonna find out what the hell is goin' on." With that, he downed the last of his coffee and abandoned the mug on the counter.
Inara just smiled and watched him slouch out of the kitchen. She had the distinct impression that Mal was just apprehensive about any intentions Jayne might have towards River. Any male, in fact, was instantly a suspect. It was hard to miss the warm fuzzy look that instantly clouded the captain's face whenever his little albatross lovingly referred to him as Ba ba. He took his role as her surrogate father very seriously, and now rivaled Simon in the battle of who could be as obnoxiously protective of her as possible. The whole thing would be absurd were it not so endearing. River was more physically capable of defending herself against unwanted advances than anyone Inara could think of, but she suspected that the young girl did not have the heart to tell them off.
As Mal headed out of the kitchen, the companion's eyes drifted back towards the little assassin and merc at the table. It did seem a little odd that the two of them were working so closely together in such companionable silence, but she did not see the harm in it. Rather, it was a nice change from all the arguing and hollering they used to do. Mal's decision to partner them up had not been received well in the beginning. Jayne had been outraged, convinced that nobody would take her seriously and consequently, turn him into the laughing stock of the 'Verse for being associated with her. River, convinced that she knew everything, often stubbornly refused to give Jayne any credit in the planning department and put up a huge fight whenever she was forced to compromise her mastermind ideas. She was much more sane now that the Miranda conspiracy had been uncovered, and she really was a sweet girl most of the time, but she was as stubborn and bossy as any teenager. Being a genius on top of it only made things worse, sometimes. Although, the companion supposed, she had a right to be childish occasionally. Heaven knows the girl had nearly her entire youth stolen from her, and she was only now in the right state of mind to enjoy adolescence just as she was leaving it.
Lately, though, she and Jayne made hardly a peep and worked seamlessly together. Inara had seen no evidence to suspect that the gunman had taken a lecherous interest in her. It was more of a quiet tolerance. Half the time he barely even deigned to acknowledge her when she slid into place next to him. Inara supposed they just got tired of fighting and decided to try getting along for a change. She had a niggling suspicion, however, that this strange camaraderie was somehow related to the new items showing up all over the ship. She could not figure out how, exactly, but the timing was too perfect.
Lost in thought, the woman drifted elegantly out of the room, leaving the scent of green tea hovering in her wake. When she left, River glanced at Jayne out the corner of her eye. He was looking back at her with a half smirk on his face. She smiled back knowingly, but neither said a word.
One month prior, things were slightly different.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jayne was a light sleeper. For such a large man who snored so loudly, the smallest noise was enough to make him sit bolt upright in the dark, his hand automatically reaching for the knife hidden under his pillow.
A second later there was another knock on his door, accompanying the one that had woken him up in the first place. It was light, but quick and urgent. Not a 'get up, emergency time' knock, but more of an 'I need to speak with you about something important' knock. Rubbing his eyes, the merc hit the switch and the hatch swung open above.
He blinked as River Tam dropped down the ladder and swung onto the foot of his bed without a sound. Her eyes were clear and focused, meaning she wasn't in 'crazy mode', which made him relax ever so slightly, even though his heart was still beating just a little faster than normal. It was strange, seeing his lithe young partner perched on the edge of his bed with her long dark hair and dancer's legs barely concealed under that oversized t-shirt. Strange, but . . . interesting.
"'S there a reason why yer droppin' in on me at this time o' the night, girl?" he demanded, trying to sound as surly as possible while inwardly praying she had not caught any stray thoughts of his.
"I have a business proposition for you," she replied in a calm, even tone.
He was bouncing his knee again – a nervous tick his body picked up to warn his brain that this was a bad idea and that he should grab the kid and get the hell out of here. Illegal fighting joints were nothing new on the Rim planets, and in fact he had been in several before this one on numerous occasions. Betting on fights was a fast, easy way to make money, if you picked the right guy. But this was no place for a little girl, mind-reading genius assassin or not. There were men here. A lot of men. Sweaty, vulgar, cigar-smoking, beer-guzzling, unwashed men from the lowest class imaginable, swarming like locusts to place their bets on whichever fighter looked to be the toughest. On any other occasion, they would be Jayne's ideal crowd. However, he had the distinct feeling that River's presence was going to cause somewhat of a stir, and he was not sure how well this plan was going to go if he ended up having to break some wandering hands.
"His name is Buck Finley," River whispered to him, eyes closed with her hand places firmly on the concrete wall. "He has won several rounds here. A local champion."
"And that's our guy?" Jayne asked, with a slight edge to his voice. His nerves were taut in anticipation for a job that could either go extremely well or extremely not well.
She nodded firmly and dropped her hand. "Yes. Go in through the side door – the password is 'vagabond'. I'll follow soon after."
"Vagabond, got it. But don't hang around out here too long, dong ma? This ain't exactly a safe part o' town." That, and he was hounded by the slightly irrational idea that Mal or someone else from the ship would happen upon her alone in the alley and cause all kinds of problems. This job was top secret, just between him and River, and the merc was fairly certain that all the secrecy was to keep him from getting booted out into the Black for endangering the ship's young pilot. The last thing he needed was to get an earful from the captain about putting money before River's safety, even though the girl could handle herself better than anyone in the 'Verse. And it was her ruttin' idea in the first place!
The little pixie smirked up at him and crossed her arms. "Are you forgetting, my stalwart colleague, who of the two of us has single-handedly wiped out entire room of Reavers?"
"Fine. Just don't take all night," he sneered in reply. Determined not to worry about her too much, he set off towards the corner that would take him to the side door.
River turned to listen in on the crowd inside again when he 'pssst' her from the other end of the alley.
"What?" she demanded in a loud whisper.
"What does 'stalwart' mean?"
Well, where the ruttin' hell was she? He'd been sitting here near the ring for nearly ten minutes and there still weren't no sign of her. She better not have gone into one of her crazy fits and forgotten about him. To be fair, she hadn't had an episode since Miranda, and she was definitely easier to predict these days, but Jayne wasn't one hundred percent ready to trust that brain of hers just yet. Matter o' fact, he weren't exactly one hundred percent willing to trust anyone or anything. It was a trait that had kept him alive since entering the mercenary trade, and he was none too eager to give it up now.
Just when he was about to go and see if she was traipsing around outside somewhere, a smattering of catcalls sounded from the other side of the room, announcing a woman's presence. He bit back a groan and sought out River's slight form weaving its way through the crowd. Surrounded by all the hulking men moving around to get a better look at her, she looked even more innocent and fragile than she normally did. Jayne noted that she had changed into a different outfit, a flowy dark blue dress that looked a lot like her usual apparel, only it was more low-cut at the chest and the skirt was a bit shorter than he was used to seeing on her. Normally she went around barefooted or in those ridiculous combat boots, but tonight she had gone for a more feminine look, with some dainty little things that looked like clingy brown leather slippers. There was no sign of a weapon on her, which bothered Jayne a little, but he supposed it was all part of her character. The merc 'harrumphed' a little at the sight of her. She was too damn good at this.
The barflies were lapping it up like mother's milk. She was doing a fine job of acting the part, staring around her with large naïve eyes and a slightly bashful smile on her lips, twirling a bit of hair around her finger. A few of the bolder, drunker ones even dared to try and reach out to grab hold of her, making Jayne's muscles tense, but she skillfully danced out of reach and giggled at their attempts like the tease they thought she was. The whole thing was getting on Jayne's nerves. He knew River could take care of herself – he'd seen her break a man's arm as easily as she'd swat at a fly – but he was not used to seeing men drool all over her like she was a haunch of meat. She was Mal's lil' albatross, the doc's baby sister, and his gorram partner. She weren't some cheap little hussy like this crowd was makin' her out to be.
She caught his eye as she walked by and held it for the briefest second before carrying on to another seat. He had flat out refused to let her sit away from him before, but she convinced him that it would not look good if they were affiliated with one another. Hence the separate entrances. Instead she sat down next to a watery-eyed old man who couldn't seem to stop staring at her. Jayne was only two rows behind, but he pretty much had a front row seat of the spectacle she was creating. He clenched his fists as another man slid into the chair next to her, daring to slip his arm across the back of her chair. If that hun dan moved his arm to do anything else, he was gonna have it torn off a heartbeat later.
He tried not to pay too much attention as River forced a convincing laugh at what must have been a rotten joke from the guy with his arm across her back. When the hell did she learn how to flirt? Gorram Kaylee must have been giving her pointers lately.
The bartender, dually serving as the referee, made his way to the centre of the ring and held a screeching microphone up to his lips. "Let's welcome back our reigning champ, Buck Finley!"
A raucous cheer broke out, nearly startling Jayne with its intensity, as a tall, beefy redhead entered the ring. He nodded at the crowd around him, smirking like he deserved some kind of award for gracing the place with his presence. Jayne instantly hated him. The ref waited for some of the noise to die down before continuing. "He's won six rounds so far. Who's ready to see if'n he can take down the rest of his challengers?"
More stupid cheering. River clapped excitedly, and even though he was sitting behind her, Jayne could imagine that her eyes were round and gleaming with adoration. Buck saw her sitting in the front row and flashed her a grin that he must have thought was charming. River shyly wiggled a few fingers in reply and ducked her head as though she was astonished at her own boldness. Jayne resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
The first challenger was a short fat guy with a farmer's tan and one of the ugliest tattoos Jayne had ever seen stretched across his back. He nearly got his jaw knocked off and took a few hits to the gut before he decided he'd had enough and waddled out of the ring with his tail between his legs. Jayne tried not to be impressed in the slightest, but Buck was no lumbering fool. He was quicker on his feet than one would believe at first glance, and he knew how to use his fists. He certainly wouldn't be a match for Jayne in a fair fight, but against a bunch of intoxicated hillbillies . . . well. A champion indeed.
River took extra care to gasp and flinch every time Buck scored a hit or took one, knowing he was watching her reactions peripherally. He liked his women to be brainless and fawning over him, which is exactly what she was trying to go for. It was nearly impossible to keep his lewd thoughts from clouding her mind, and she tried not to grimace at the things he envisioned her doing. She clenched her teeth but kept her lips frozen in a simpering smile. Her hands were going numb from clapping so much, but it was all going as planned. She knew it would. Men like Buck were easy to read.
Jayne's gaze kept moving rapidly between her and the fight. She could feel his eyes on the back of her head every few second, and wished he would calm down and have a little faith. She chose him for this job specifically because, more than anyone else on the crew, he knew how to be a professional in situations like this. This job was her brainchild, her brilliant moneymaking scheme. Having it go wrong because Jayne couldn't keep himself under control would cost him severely. Namely, his testicles. She could still go back and finish what she started in the Maidenhead all those months ago.
One by one, Buck squashed all his challengers. He stood proudly over the last one, a tall sweaty pillar of meat and muscle, punching the air and shouting victoriously. The referee appeared again and clasped his wrist, thrusting it up to the ceiling and announcing yet another pulse-pounding win for Buck Finley.
"I don't suppose anyone out there's suicidal enough to try their luck against the champ?" the ref called in a goading voice. Buck's piggish eyes roamed around the room, daring people to stand up and give him a go.
That was her cue.
Forcing a nervous giggle, River stood up and raised a hand with a slightly embarrassed grin. "Pardon me," she called, fluttering her eyelashes as subtly as she could. "Would you be terribly insulted, Mister Buck, if I challenged you myself?"
For a moment there was a stunned silence, and then the whole bar broke out in hysterical laughter. She had been expecting it, and did not conceal the blush spreading across her cheeks.
The ref fought to keep a straight face. "Well, lil' lady, there ain't no rules that say a girl can't fight. We just never had one wantin' to before now. Whaddya say, Buck? Think you're up to it?"
Buck regarded River somewhat suspiciously, but he was grinning a little at the same time. "What's your name, darlin'?" he asked suddenly.
River ducked her head shyly. "Delilah." Jayne raised an eyebrow.
"You tryin' to prove a point or somethin', Delilah? Wanna show us that ladies is just as tough as men?"
Giggling, she shook her head. "Nothin' so high an' mighty as that, sir," she assured him, rolling her eyes as though the idea was ludicrous. "I just . . . well, I've been takin' some self defence classes – martial arts and stuff, you know? – and I'd like to test myself against . . ."
Here she paused and bit her lip for extra measure. "Against the greatest fighter in Beaumonde. That is, if he'll have me." She was careful to slip a double entendre in those last words, and he caught it. He smirked a little.
"Yer awful cute," he admitted. "And it makes sense you'd wanna see if yer gettin' yer money's worth with them martial arts. But I ain't got time to give you pointers, girl."
"Oh come on, Buck," someone called from the back, sounding amused. "Give her a go, will ye? What's the harm in it?"
"Yeah, why you gotta turn down such a sweet little thing for?"
More and more patrons started egging Buck on, wanting to see what would doubtless be an entertaining confrontation. River even detected Jayne's rough voice in the mix, not really saying anything, but growling loudly to show his support for the idea. She glowed inside. He was finally playing along!
Buck was a man who thrived on attention, and the big-eyed little girl in the audience was definitely getting him some. He made a great show of mulling it over in his mind, pursing his lips and rubbing his chin all thoughtful-like, before he grinned down at her in a way that made her skin crawl. She ignored the feeling.
"Alright," he said with a nod. "Show me whatcha got, girl. Get on up here."
Amid the roars of approval erupting all around her, River allowed herself to be assisted into the ring (doing her best not to notice some of the lingering hands). She pivoted around slowly, looking around from her new vantage point with feigned awe. Then her eyes landed on Buck and she did her best to look humbled in his presence, giggling a little and tugging on a wavy strand of hair. Out the corner of her eye she saw Jayne slip out of his seat and move towards the betting table. He whispered something to the bookkeeper, who gave him an odd look and glanced at River with a raised eyebrow. Shrugging, as if to say 'your funeral', the bookie scribbled something down and Jayne headed back to his chair, looking smug. River felt a hum of pleasure sing through her. Everything was going perfectly. Once the fight started, nobody would be allowed to change their bets, no matter how much they might want to in a few minutes.
The ref no longer bothered to hide his smile as he announced the match's commencement. As he left the ring, however, he paused close to Buck and whispered something in the man's ear with a serious look on his face. River reached out with her mind in time to hear him say, "Go easy on her, Buck. She's mighty foolish, but she's a sweetheart." She fought hard not to laugh at that. If only they knew.
Buck gave her another slimy grin as the bell rang out, sharp and clear. "You ready, girl?"
She gave him her very brightest smile, the one that made Mal's face soften up and Simon's resolve weaken. It was even starting to work on Jayne these days. "Whenever you are, Mister Buck."
"Mister Buck," the redheaded giant mused, a disgusting thought entering his mind. "I like the sound o' that. Maybe you'd like to keep calling me that, when we're done here."
Her smile tightened imperceptively. "Maybe."
With that, he came at her, moving slowly and lazily. He didn't really believe anything was going to happen – his form was careless, sloppy. She smirked inwardly and waited until he was close enough before making a move.
Just before he could get his hands on her, she dodged under his arm and brought her knee crashing into the pit of his stomach, effectively knocking the wind out of him.
For the second time that night the bar fell completely silent.
Buck dropped to one knee, his face twisted in shock, struggling for air. River struck out with the same leg and aimed the top of her foot at the side of his head. She could kill him with such a blow, but decided instead just to hurt him. Severely. He cried out and fell to his side. She allowed him to scramble upright again, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet, waiting for him to come at her.
"Gorram whore," he rasped, still catching his breath as he lurched uncertainly to his feet. "I ain't never hit a woman in my life as didn't deserve it. But you is gonna get it real bad."
"So the bruises on your wife's face were just accidents? Or was it really her fault that your favourite shirt shrunk in the wash?" she quipped, curling her lip in disgust. She spoke low enough so that nobody could hear her but him.
His eyes widened. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before any sound came out. "What in the hell . . . how did you . . ." But then rage clouded his vision and he lunged at her with a chest-rumbling roar, fists raised.
When his knuckles nearly collided with her nose, River grabbed him by the wrist and twisted hard, using his momentum against him. He sailed over her hip and landed with a dull thud across the ring from her, having landed on the back of his neck, and did not rise again.
And just like that, it was over. The fight had scarcely lasted a full minute, and the local champion Buck Finley lay defeated by a ninety-pound girl named Delilah.
Later that night, Jayne was a very happy man. The kind of happy where he was guffawing all the way out the bar, a hefty sack of cash slung over his shoulder. He would never, ever forget all those dumbfounded eyes following him outside, wondering at the one man among them who had actually bet on the little waif who tossed Buck Finley as though he were nothing, and then danced out of the bar in a twirl of blue skirt and dark hair.
He didn't care about all the people gapin' at him as he ambled down the street, snickering to himself like a kid who'd come across his daddy's porn stash. All he cared about was meeting River at the rendezvous point, splitting up their earnings, and heading back to the ship for a well-deserved night's rest. Rounding the corner, he saw his partner standing under a billboard advertising some kind of vitamin supplement, where they agreed to meet, and Jayne didn't bother to repress the silly grin on his face.
"I'll be damned, girl, you sure can pick 'em!" he laughed. She tossed her head and fixed him with a haughty stare.
"Now you have no cause to doubt me, Jayne Cobb," she told him, although he could see her mouth twitching mutinously. He swooped down and planted a wet kiss on her forehead.
"Never again, ni zi," he promised, in too good a mood to care about the completely un-Jayne-like gesture he'd just bestowed upon her. She blinked up at him in surprise before her smile slipped out, all warm and soft. She'd never smiled at him like that before. It sobered him slightly, but not enough to take the spring out of his step as they started walking back towards the port.
"So," he continued, wrapping a casual arm around her skinny shoulders. "We gonna do this again? Seems like a solid enterprise, in this humble merc's opinion."
"Of all the adjectives in the known language," she drawled, going so far as to lean her head on his shoulder, "I would not settle on 'humble' to describe you. And yes. I intend us to con every underground fighting establishment we come across. We make a good team."
He nodded firmly. "Ain't that the truth. But we're keeping this hush-hush, right?"
"As a ghost," she agreed. "Otherwise Ba ba will yell, and Simon will get streaky."
"If Mal ain't yellin', he ain't bein' Mal. And I'd like to see somethin' that won't make your brother streaky," he snorted. River's step faltered slightly as an idea slammed into her. He recognized that look on her face – he'd seen it more than a few times out on a job.
"I know what I would like to purchase with my half of the earnings," she announced, staring up at him in apparent amazement of her own brilliance. "A coffee machine!"
"Huh." He scratched his chin at that. "Figured you'd want some new dresses or somethin'. But hey, having real coffee instead o' that instant mix go se . . . sounds good to me."
"It's decided," River said with a pleased smirk. "Tomorrow I will make the necessary transaction."
"Hell, maybe it'll help the captain relax a little."
"That's the plan."