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Mal didn't know what was going on in his ship these days. Inara was always distant and aloof; he'd come to expect it from her. And Kaylee, for all that she was fun to play with off-duty, had decided she could do an upgrade to the engine that sounded complicated as all get out to Mal and was taking up most of her spare time. So normally he'd have spent time chatting with Wash in the cockpit or going over plans and maintaining the guns with Zoe—but somehow he could never find either one of them. And when he did find them, they were both distracted and a little bit twitchy, ending conversations almost before they'd begun. Mal was starting to think he shouldn't have switched to that new fancy soap, if everyone aboard was going to act like he smelled funny.
All of which left Mal on his own, alone in the darkness, a lot more often than he was rightly comfortable with.
These were among the thoughts going rapidly through his mind while he stood there with his hands up, studying the three mercenaries holding him and Zoe at gunpoint. They could use one more hand aboard. One who was good with guns. Mayhaps one who wasn't too good with thinking. Last thing Mal needed was someone who wanted to argue with him about every little thing. Between Inara and Wash—and the way Zoe looked at him when she didn't agree—he had more than enough of that already.
No, what he needed was someone dumb and biddable and big and tough. Like—like the guy on the right.
Yeah, that could work. Guy could track, too. That was a skill Mal and Zoe had only in rudimentary form. A good tracker could be right useful to have aboard.
Of course, once the deal was a reality and Jayne Cobb was on the ship, fumbling around the kitchen and telling crass jokes that made Kaylee blush and flee to the safety of her engine room, Mal wasn't so sure his spur-of-the-moment decision had been as smart as it had seemed at the time.
Zoe hadn't said—or looked—anything in disagreement, either at the time or since, but Mal could tell by the way she watched Jayne that she wasn't fully sold on the decision.
He came into the kitchen area on Jayne's third day just in time to witness Jayne grabbing Zoe's rear and making a very pointed suggestion about what he'd like to do with his free time after the next job.
Unsurprisingly, the next minute Jayne was on his knees, eyes watering in pain as Zoe twisted his hand in a way that a human hand just wasn't supposed to bend.
"I like a woman with spunk," Jayne managed.
"You can't handle a woman with spunk. I'm not precisely clear on just what kind of woman you could handle. Now, you can agree to a few simple ground rules, or you can spend the rest of your life answering to Lefty. Which is it?" Zoe asked, her voice low and dangerous.
"What rules?"
"The ones where no woman on this ship is available to you, and you keep a civil tongue in your head when they're around."
"I was just jokin'," Jayne protested.
Zoe put pressure on his wrist, and he whimpered. "'Case you didn't notice, Kaylee didn't like your jokes."
"Okay, okay, no more jokes. But ain't no harm in a little fun between unattached males and females. Can't blame me for—"
"I'm not unattached. And Inara's a professional—and you can't afford her."
Jayne gave a swift glance over his shoulder at Mal, who kept his face immobile. If Zoe wanted to pretend they were a couple, he'd go along with it, although he'd never known Zoe to feel the need to lie about such a thing. Come to think about it, she had never so much as hinted at it, even in situations where such an idea would have been far more useful than it was right now.
Not being privy to Mal's thoughts, Jayne seemed sold on the lie. "No more suggestions, neither. I promise. Now, let me up?"
Zoe released her grip on Jayne's hand and let him get to his feet. "Welcome aboard … Jayne."
"Thanks." Jayne rubbed his wrist, and went back to preparing his meal. Left-handed.
"I think this is going to work out just fine, Captain," Zoe told Mal, pushing past him on her way up to the cockpit. Good, Mal thought. Talking to Wash always seemed to cool her down.
"Touchy type, huh, Mal?" Jayne asked.
"Don't get on her wrong side."
"Might be fun. Don't s'pose you want to tell me any bedtime stories about what she's like in the sack."
The very idea was horrifying. "Didn't you and Zoe just have a discussion about keeping a civil tongue in your head?"
"You mean, no stories, even? Damn." He picked up his plate, wincing as his wrist flexed in the process. "I'll be in my bunk."
With luck, he'd spend a lot of time there, Mal thought, before remembering that the bright idea that had brought Jayne aboard in the first place was so Mal would have someone else around to talk to. Well, so much for that.
He wanted to ask Zoe about the lie she'd hinted at, pretending to Jayne that they were a couple, but he didn't want to ask her in front of Wash, so that conversation would have to wait. For that matter, it was no guarantee that she'd tell him. More likely, she'd give him one of her looks, say "don't think on it too much, Captain", and send him on his way.
Instead, he headed down to the shuttle to tell Inara they seemed likely to land half a day earlier than anticipated, since he knew she'd been anxious about making her next appointment on time. Surely the good news would buy him ten minutes of conversation. 'Course, they'd just get in another argument, but that was still more interesting than cleaning his favorite gun for the third time this trip.