Disclaimer: I don't own Firefly.
A/N: Set an hour or three after Meetings.
"We usually use this room fer storage and whatnot," explained the gruff mercenary as he hauled yet another box up the short ladder to what would become Karla's bunk, "I guess we'll jus' have t' pile all this fei oo in the cargo bay."
"I appreciate the help." Said Karla, who had followed him up the ladder with her own box. "Gotta say, I didn't expect the Captain t' have me clean out my own room."
"Yeah, Mal can be a pee goo sometimes. He's just a bit shooken up, s'all. Only 'spected to do a job and get paid t'day. You an' all the blood kind o' messed his schedule around.
"Somethin' else, don't 'spect me to be so nice as this. T'was Little Kaylee's idea, me to help you with all this," he gestures to the ladder and below it, her room.
Karla grinned and leans against the slanted wall.
Outside of the kitchen was the short hallway upon which branch off the crew's bunks. Farther down the hall was a small staircase leading to the cockpit.
"You don' seem like the kinda guy let's people tell him what to do. Got somethin' goin' with the mechanic?" Karla looks and sounds innocent enough when she says it, but all the same there's a mischievous little smile playing across her lips, which makes Jayne say,
"We're near half-done. You'd enjoy it much if'n I were to leave you to finish off and haul it all to the bay?"
Karla holds her hands up in defeat and climbs back down the ladder.
They finished the work a while later, when most of the crew were asleep.
Karla and Jayne sat in the kitchen, not going to bed out of pure laziness. The mug in front of Jayne was filled with a questionable alcoholic substance, the glass beside Karla holding apple cider.
"How old are you anyway, kid?" Jayne suddenly asked, taking another gulp from his mug.
Karla cocked an eyebrow, but responded all the same. "Fifteen. How old are you?"
Jayne bared his teeth in what would have been a smile, had it not been so intimidating. Karla was undaunted and kept the conversation flowing.
"So, wha' do y'all do here? I mean, like, work."
"Should be askin' the Cap'n that. Mostly smugglin'. There's some killin' sometimes, too. S'what I'm for, guessing."
Karla nodded sleepily, realizing that if she didn't make it to her bunk, the crew would find their new cook asleep at the kitchen table the next morning.
Jayne seemed to notice this, for, as he downed the rest of his liquor, he said, "you should be getting' off to bed now. 'Spect you'll have to be impressing tomorrow with breakfast."
Karla responded through a wide yawn. "Xie-xie for all your help t'night. I realize after talking to you… You wouldn't normally spend your night carrying heavy boxes around for nothin'." Karla, raised to be polite, saw her mistake immediately. Jayne was somehow sympathetic towards this, whether it be because he was softened by alcohol, or that he actually realized she was too tired to even see straight.
"Go t' bed already." He rumbled, his hand reaching towards the bottle from which his drink had originated.
Karla stood and put her glass in the sink. She returned to the infirmary and grabbed her suitcase. It was hard to believe everything she had was in that leather case.
Karla passed once more through the kitchen. Jayne was no longer sitting at the table. In fact, he wasn't in the kitchen at all. She found it hard to believe a man so big could be so quiet when moving around.
Karla swept through the kitchen and into the bunk hallway. She pushed against the bit of wall she knew was her door and sighed, relieved, when a low hiss was heard and the ladder to her bunk completed itself.
Once down in the small, empty room she pressed a button located on the console on her wall and listened to her trapdoor close. Karla took the opportunity to look around.
The bunk was dusty from disuse.
The walls were a light purple, almost lilac color. It looked a bit bigger without all of the boxes and crates that had once been stored on the metal floor. The only furnishings were a bed(more of a cot, really), a nightstand, and a sink with a mirror above it and a compartment underneath, which Karla assumed unfolded into a toilet.
She breathed in deeply, memorizing the smell of her new room. And then it struck her. This was her own room. Hers. No one else's. Karla had to share a room back at the Orphanage.
And as a final wave of sleepiness overwhelmed her, Karla placed her suitcase gently on the ground, walked over to her unmade bed, laid down, and fell asleep.
A/N II: Thanks much to all who reviewed!
