Vera

Pairing: Darcy Lewis/Jayne Cobb (Firefly)

AN: This Firefly crossover was inspired by some gorgeous art I saw on tumblr that depicted Jayne's gun Vera as a beautiful curvy brunette who reminded me of Darcy.


Jayne watches that glorious ass of hers as she climbs down the ladder into his bunk, because he's never claimed to be the sort of man who would divert his eyes when faced with those bitty little shorts she's wearing.

The first—and only—time he'd pinched that fine caboose, she'd tased him in the balls. Up 'til that moment he hadn't thought much of tasers as a weapon. Got a mite more respect for them now.

He's not too proud to admit he hasn't been game to try and get her in the sack since then, a fact that's a sore spot about the size of his previously-singed stones. Those tits are a sight to behold, and she looks like she'd be soft and curvy in all the right places; the perfect comfort after a hard day of being whatever the hell kind of bad guy Mal needed him to be. Given the chance, he'd get on his knees and worship that cunt of hers until she never wanted to leave his bunk again.

"What're you doin' down here?" he grunts.

"Hiding," she says simply, picking up his holster from the end of the bed and drawing the leather strap idly through her fingers. "Cap's got his braces in a twist. You know what it's like. Best to lay low."

"Hey, paws off," he grumbles as she slips the gun belt around her waist experimentally and buckles it low. He means it too, all the way up until she reaches between her legs and thongs the holster down around the creamy flesh of her thigh.

She draws a finger gun and offloads a round into the dusty bit of mirror stuck to his wall. She blows the imaginary smoke from the end of her index finger, then looks around for something else to occupy her attention.

"I'm a hat person too," she comments, snatching the orange beanie off his head. The 'oy!' of protest dies in his throat as her tits bump against his chest, and his swipe to retrieve the knitted hat is half-hearted at best.

She pulls the beanie on over her dark curls and gorram if it don't make her look even hotter still. She checks her reflection in the mirror once again.

"I'm all dressed up, take me somewhere fun," she says over her shoulder.

"We'd have more fun stayin' put, baby doll," he says, though it doesn't come out quite as cocksure as he'd intended—more honest, maybe a little earnest, even—and he forgets to add a lurid wink.

She eyes him thoughtfully. "You know what, cowboy? I think you might be right."

Jayne's heart stutters in his chest and his manparts all but jump to attention as she closes the small distance between them.

"You ain't got that taser on you this time, do you?" he asks warily.

"Maybe you should search me," she murmurs, taking his hands and slotting each one over the curve of a hip.

Jayne stifles a groan of pleasure and decides he doesn't even care if she does.