evilmaniclaugh

The excitement builds to such fever pitch that night that Simon can’t sleep. Even after waking Jayne twice for sex he’s still left breathless with anticipation, his head a jumbled mess as he considers the consequences of escape.

By morning he’s bleary-eyed and torturously tired and when Jayne wakes him with a ruthless nudge to the ribcage, he twists onto his back and glares grumpily up at his lover. “It can’t be time to get up.”

Jayne snorts with laughter. “It’s time and then some, Doc. There’s a mug of coffee on the nightstand. Now drink that and get your butt out of this bed so’s you can help with the packing.”

A glance at the oversized wall clock tells Simon that it’s closer to dinner time than breakfast and, after gulping down the coffee, he takes an icy cold shower to wake himself up then finds some relatively unspoiled clothes to wear. He’d love to have some nicely tailored shirts and dress pants to put on. And a vest! Oh god, how he misses his vests. And soft leather shoes. It would be magical to slip his feet into something other than work boots for a change.

His backpack is stowed away in the closet and as he shoves a few pairs of shorts and socks into its recesses, filling up the remaining space in the bag with tee-shirts and cargo pants, his fingers fumble over the stack of paper that’s hidden away inside. Why hasn’t he ever told Jayne about the bank drafts? He’s attempted this several times but at the last minute has always becomes tongue-tied with inexplicable fear. There’s another guilty secret stashed beside the checks and as Simon touches it he wells up with emotion. River was right all along; he is a boob.

After buckling his gun belt Simon hoists the backpack onto one shoulder and makes his way downstairs. Jayne’s sitting hunched over on one of the day beds sifting listlessly through a pack of Tall cards. He looks up as Simon descends the stairs. “Ain’t certain what we oughta take with us. What do you think?”

Simon shrugs. There should be some evidence of their life spent together on this barren rock, but most of their belongings were left at the farm: the presents they’d given each other, the occasional handwritten notes. Maybe Jayne didn’t keep any mementos. He doesn’t seem like a memento kind of a man. “I suppose just clothes and weapons,” he answers eventually. “Although I really don’t know the etiquette of being rescued.”

“Money to pay for passage,” says Jayne bluntly. “That’s ‘bout all the ‘etiquette’ that freighter cap’n’ll care about.”

They’re both too nervous to eat or fuck or do anything but pace around and keep an eye out for a ship coming in to land.

“How big is a freighter?” Simon’s leaning casually on one of the steel girders of the space dock, looking up at the sky, a hand shielding the glare of the sun from his eyes.

“Depends on how far it runs goods,” says Jayne who’s sucking on his very last stogie in celebration of finally leaving the planetoid.

The ship that touches down is a good amount smaller than a Firefly.

“Guess this one don’t go too far,” says Jayne, a wry smile on his face as he stomps out the cigar then hefts his backpack onto his shoulder. “C’mon then, Doc.”

Simon watches apprehensively as the ramp extends out onto the narrow dockside and if Jayne hadn’t already entered the belly of the ship he’s almost certain he would have turned tail and run. Instead, he follows the mercenary inside where, overcome with awkwardness, he stands a few feet back from the group of men.

After a short discussion and an exchange of platinum, Jayne beckons Simon over where he catches a few off-putting words from the captain, a chunky dishevelled man at the far end of middle age.

“…here often for the whores. Lady kept a fine stable of girls.”

Simon’s glad he only came in to half the conversation, although he thinks it may be the wrong half.

Jayne tugs him closer. “This here’s Doc Tam. Doc, this is Cap’n Günter and his men, Archer and Stevens.”

“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”

The two Neanderthal crewmen stare appraisingly at Simon for a moment then, without a word, they disappear into the bowels of the ship leaving him feeling foolish for being so ridiculously formal.

“What’s an educated feller like you doing stuck on a rock this far out?” asks the captain curiously.

“They had a run of the fever here,” says Jayne. “Needed a medic quicksmart and our skipper, being a soft kind of a chun ren, took a detour to help out. Then Reavers hit and you can figure the rest.”

Sometimes Simon is scared of the way the lies drip so convincingly from Jayne’s mouth, as sticky sweet as honey.

“That must’ve been hell hiding out from them vermin in a place like this,” says Captain Günter.

Jayne’s lips narrow into a severe line. “It weren’t pleasant, that’s for gorram sure. We was holed up in the mines with them for a while.”

All three men wince simultaneously. Everyone living on the outskirts of the verse has, at some point, had a run in with Reavers. It forms a common bond amongst them.

“You fellers okay to share a bunk?” says Günter as the ship’s engines rumble into life and he leads them through the reverberating steel passageways. “Got one vacant since my first mate got bound by law last run.”

“Sharing’s fine far as I’m concerned,” says Jayne, winking crudely then wrapping an arm possessively around Simon’s waist.

The captain stares hard at them then shrugs. “Not a problem.” He pauses. “Though I ain’t certain how they take to sly folk on Augustine. Funny lot they are. Don’t have a liking for anything out of the ordinary.”

Simon’s taken aback by how open Jayne has been about their relationship, but finally he pulls himself together enough to ask the question that’s been worrying him since they boarded. “We can send a wave from there?” He has visions of Augustine being one of those odd communities that shuns all form of technology.

“Oh, you can send a wave alright, but just don’t try drinking, or getting fresh with the locals. That’s how Grieves got in trouble last time he was there.” Günter frowns. “Hoping I can get him out of jail this cycle. Don’t like being a man down. Too much heavy lifting.” They come to a halt at the far end of the fore passage. “This here’s your bunk ‘til we berth at Augustine in a couple of weeks.”

The captain wrenches open a small hatchway and Simon peers inside at a room which is slightly less spacious than the average closet. A year ago he would have been horrified at the thought of being stuck in here with Jayne Cobb.

“Next food is at thirteen hundred,” continues Günter. “Don’t expect too much,” and with those happy words he ambles away towards the aft end of the ship.

Simon steps inside the dirty cabin, letting out a shocked “tianna,” when he discovers how small it actually is. There are two platform bunks welded onto the bulkhead and, to the rear, a recessed wash area. Nothing else, not even a set of drawers. Simon’s so taken aback he’s beyond words, however, watching Jayne trying to squeeze his bulk through the narrow entrance is a priceless sight that improves his mood no end.

“This place made for midgets?” snarls the big man, throwing himself down on the bunk and, in doing so, smacking the back of his skull on the edge of the upper platform.

It’s when Jayne attempts to lie down that Simon can’t hold in the laughter any longer. The bed is so short that the mercenary has to curl into a tight foetal position with his knees hanging way over the edge.

Glowering at Simon’s amusement Jayne sits up, banging his head once again in the process. “Ain’t gonna get much sleeping done here.”

“We can do other things,” says Simon suggestively.

They may be stuck on a space ship that makes Serenity look like state of the art technology. They may be heading for a homophobic planet where the population probably burn books for a hobby. But at least they’re no longer in Hartford.

*

After thirteen long days barracked on board the Mariah, fucking becomes tedious and, instead, the two men pass the time by fighting often and furiously. Once, in front of the crew, Jayne threatens to land a punch to Simon’s jaw and although he stops himself long before the fist comes close to making contact, Simon’s left shaken.

Since then things have been awkward between them. Jayne never fails to talk down to him and make smutty remarks to the rest of the crew about their sex life which leaves Simon with an ever-expanding sense of discomfort.

“We’ll be docking in four hours,” says Captain Günter as crew and passengers sit along both sides of the steel counter, all but one of the men staring at the uninviting plates of protein in front of them.

“Ain’t sorry to hear that,” says Jayne, talking through a full mouth of stew. “’M grateful to you for rescuing us an’ all, but this ship is too gorram small.” He continues to shovel grey mush into his mouth as if it’s in scarce supply. “Can’t get up to as much as I’d like… if’n you get my drift.” He inclines his head in Simon’s direction then leers around at the other men.

Sickened, Simon watches Jayne eat, wondering whether anything has changed between them since being marooned, bar the fact that they screwed each other senseless in order to pass the time. He has no intention of being anyone’s whore, trophy wife or punching bag and he finishes his meal immersed inside a subdued silence.

When the freighter yaws precariously then comes to an abrupt landing, no one is more pleased than Simon. With backpack slung over one shoulder he’s first off the ship and onto the jetty, looking around him at a bustling planetoid.

“Remember what I said,” warns Captain Günter as they say their farewells.

They walk in single file down the ramp and as Jayne heads for the main exit of the anchorage, Simon lingers behind. There’s little reason, as far as he can see, to keep up.

“Where d’you reckon we go now?” says Jayne as he drops his bag on the sidewalk and looks around in complete bewilderment at the scurrying mass of people.

“I couldn’t care less,” says Simon. The man is so dense he hasn’t even noticed that Simon’s been giving him the silent treatment for the last few days.

“What’s got your skivvies in a knot?”

It becomes apparent that this is a rhetorical question when instead of waiting for an answer, Jayne picks up his bag and strides off.

“Hey!” Simon is forced to chase him along the sidewalk and hates every racing footstep. “You think the way you treated me on the Mariah was acceptable?”

Jayne scans the conservatively dressed townsfolk then, picking his moment, tugs Simon into a quieter side street. “If’n you reckon I liked being that way with you then you’re as moonbrained as your sister,” he says in a low voice. “I done what I done so as to keep us both safe. Didn’t know who was listening in. Gorramit, Doc.” Jayne runs his fingers through his hair in frustration. “You know rut all about the kinda men that work these runs. You know nothing.”

Simon hears truth in these words and wilts. He wants to hear more, but can feel eyes burning into them from every direction. “Let’s get that wave sent,” he says. “We can talk later once we find somewhere to stay for the night.”

Jayne draws in a couple of deep, calming breaths then nods perfunctorily and as they turn back into the main drag of the town Simon has a feeling that for the first time since they’ve been together, he’s actually come damn close to having his lights punched out.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he says to a well-dressed lady who’s studying the display of austere clothing in a nearby store window. “I need to send a wave urgently. Is there any place in town where I could do that?”

After listening to Simon’s educated voice and polite manner the window shopper is won over and breaks into a genteel smile. “Yes, indeed. The mailing station is just across the way there to your left,” she says, indicating a red brick building with an arched entranceway.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he says deferentially, “and a good day to you.”

As they’re crossing the street he murmurs to Jayne, “Wo de tien a! I think we have hope.”

“Do we?” Jayne looks at him, anger gone, but no hint of happiness in evidence.

Simon’s unsure whether they’re talking about the same thing. He wants to have this out with Jayne, but there are more serious things to worry about right now than the rocky state of their relationship.

Jayne obviously agrees. “Best get moving then,” he says with a sigh. “There’ll most likely be one hell of a wait to send that message and the sooner we’re away from here the better.”

The mercenary is right. The line for the Cortex coils like sleeping snake around the foyer of the building and, after purchasing a slot-card, Simon bites his nails in nervous anticipation. “What do we say?”

“Well, we could ask ‘em how the thieving’s going and what the weather’s like out in the black. Or we could just tell ‘em we’re alive and need picking up. S’your choice, but I know which one I’d take.”

Simon can’t quite tell whether Jayne’s still angry with him or just teasing. “Do you want to talk or should I,” he stutters, “and do we record a message or send it live?”

“Quit gabbling, Doc, you’re giving me a headache.”

Yet again, Simon is unsure of the big man’s mood and so he waits his turn in silence, chewing off more of his nails as the line creeps towards the row of Cortex terminals. The closer he gets, the more daunting this seems and when he’s finally sitting in the bucket chair he stares blankly at the machine.

Jayne leans over to talk to him. “If’n you don’t shift your butt into action we’ll most likely both get strung up.”

Simon looks around at the restless locals and swiftly inserts his card into the reader then when the machine blinks into life, he glides his fingers over the screen.

“It’s old. You gotta use the buttons.”

Jayne’s hints are helpful yet delivered so sarcastically that Simon would walk out if it wasn’t for the fact that he may be seconds away from making contact with his sister for the first time in a year. Keying in Serenity’s contact code he waits for uplink and when Wash’s face appears on the display in front of him it’s such an out-of-verse experience that he looses all power of speech.

“Wo de ma.” The pilot is gazing back at them with eyes that are round and startled. “Honey, there are dead people on the Cortex.”

“Wash.” Simon’s voice is broken up from an overload of emotion. “It’s us.”

Zoë’s face comes into view, as strong and unrattled as ever. “I’ll get the captain,” she says. “Keep talking to them, baby.”

Wash’s eyes grow even bigger. “But you were killed. There were Reavers.”

“Jayne came to get me.” The simple explanation causes a flood of warmth to seep through Simon.

“Well now, I didn’t count on seeing your ugly faces again,” says Mal Reynolds, appearing on the view screen. “Has to be said, though, it won’t be a bad thing having you back on board.”

“That rash still ain’t cleared up yet then, Mal?” Jayne guffaws at his bad joke and Simon can’t help smirking as the captain’s expression slides automatically into ‘Jayne’ face.

“Seems to me we should get started on picking you two boys up as soon as possible.” comes the Shepherd’s voice. “So if you’ll tell us your whereabouts.”

“Augustine,” says Simon and as he’s listing the co-ords the screen is filled with two girlish faces.

“We have a memorial for you.” River cocks her head to one side. “I change the captures every week.” Her smile is a mile wide. “You were never there when I talked to you and now I know why.”

“River, how have you been? Is everything okay?”

But before she can answer Kaylee takes over.

“Simon, juh jen sh guh kwai luh duh jean jan. We missed you so much. Serenity ain’t been running happy without you.”

“It’s good to see you, Kaylee.”

Jayne looms in over Simon’s shoulder. “Weren’t I missed then?”

“Course you was. How can you say such a thing, Jayne Cobb?”

“Wasn’t certain I heard my name mentioned there.”

All of a sudden it becomes a riotous affair with Jayne teasing and Kaylee pouting and the rest of the crew champing at the bit to add something to the conversation. It’s fantastic to hear everyone after this long and yet so overwhelming that Simon becomes lost for words and as the seconds tick down toward zero he’s almost relieved. Mal just has time to inform them that Serenity will be docking at Augustine in approximately one week’s time when the link is lost.

“We’re going home,” Simon says, looking up at Jayne with eyes that feel as if they’re shining with a renewed enthusiasm.

“Maybe.”

In contrast the answer is drab, no colour of emotion present, and Simon tenses up. “Come on,” he says, pushing through the crowd, a surreal experience after being separated from society for so long. “There are way too many people here,” he mutters as he’s barged out of the way by a burly man who’s also trying to leave the mailing station in a hurry. Simon knows it’s a contrary statement to make--he’s been yearning for this ever since they made up their minds to leave Gainsborough--but it still comes as a shock to the system.

The hotel across the street looks a more peaceful venue and after checking that Jayne is still beside him, Simon hurries inside the holo-glazed doors. Framed captures on the walls show images of all the available suites and Simon is hoping that there’s a quick automated booking system when an elderly man appears from behind a swinging door that’s marked ‘kitchen.’

“Ni hao,” he greets them. “How may I help you?”

“Two rooms for one week,” says Jayne in a somber voice, his earlier good spirits long gone. Just a cover. The man’s perfected those over the years.

“One room,” interjects Simon loudly. Jayne gives him a warning elbow to the ribcage, but right now Simon couldn’t care less about other people’s prejudices. He’s determined not to hide any longer. “A double suite,” he says in clarification.

The man looks them up and down. “Doubles here in Augustine City are for married folk only.”

Smiling, Simon knows that the fates have once again been kind to them. Taking the backpack off his shoulder, he rests it on the counter then tugs open one of the zippered pockets. He’d once dismissed this as foolishness and it may well prove to be so, but, rightly or wrongly, he needs to make a stand.

“We are a married couple,” he says, digging out the certificate and sliding it across the sleek wooden surface then watching with pleasure as the man unfolds the document and reads it slowly. It triggers memories of great sex, great lovemaking and afterwards a private moment when he’d carefully inked in those etched words on the legal paper from the Notary's office.

“Jayne’s not a man’s name,” says the hotelier, taking off his reading glasses and letting them clatter across the counter.

The mercenary studies the certificate then glances at Simon, a conspiratorial smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

“You saying I ain’t a man?” He leans over to threaten in his own inimitable style and Simon feels a quiver of arousal burn through him.

“Gonna tell me this is fake too?” The mercenary shoves an ident card in the hotel keeper’s face. Of course it’s faked--forgery is another of Jayne’s talents--but the man is shaking in his boots too much to notice. Handing over the key to his best suite he watches with disdain as his newest customers take the stairs to the second floor.

As soon as he closes the door closes Jayne grins broadly. “Where the gorram hell did you get one of them certificates from? The look on that feller’s face when you said we was hitched.” He splutters with laughter. “‘S almost worth getting bound over for.”

“We could be arrested for this?” This is not something Simon’s considered and is the reason why acting on impulse is never a good thing.

“Could for sure in a place like this, but I don’t reckon we will. Being tongzhi ain’t a crime in the Core and I don’t reckon they’re the kind to stick their noses into federal business.” Jayne pauses. “Could’ve told me about it first though.”

“I could have told you?” Simon’s amazed. “And what about you, treating me like your whore and keeping me in the dark while you when we were on board the Mariah?”

“Explained that already. I didn’t know who was listening in.” Jayne folds his arms. “Didn’t want anyone messing around with my wife.”

“If you read the wording on that certificate I think you’ll find out that you’re my wife.”

The look on Jayne’s face is a picture and causes Simon to erupt into a bout of laughter that’s so debilitating he can’t fight back when he’s being bundled face down onto the bed.

“I ain’t nobody’s wife,” says Jayne, letting out this sotto voce grunt that’s full of intent.

Simon’s pants come down, belt slithering free of the loops, and when that leather strap tightens around his wrists, the laughter subsides into rhythmic sighs of excitement.

“Reckon you deserve that spanking right about… now.”

Simon shivers with anticipation and when that big palm finally slams down onto his right buttock he’s already on the point of orgasm. After six more smacks--sounds echoing erotically around the room--he’s begging helplessly for Jayne’s cock and the moment it slides, slick and hot, inside him he comes in a flood all over the floral patterned quilt.

The sex becomes an act of sheer decadence; Jayne fucks him slowly, singling out every hot spot and teasing it with fingers and lips until Simon’s squirming and demanding, “more, more, please.” With his hands still tied he’s unable to participate and this supercharges him until he’s at screaming point.

“That’s it, pretty man, you yell out loud. Show that bigotted old gan ni niang what’s he’s missing out on.” Jayne unloops the belt and flips Simon over, then, with a finger replacing his cock, he buries his mouth in Simon’s crotch, working him over with his tongue then sucking him off with deep pulls until Simon’s rock hard and craving everything.

“Want you in me now,” says Jayne, crawling up the bed to unfasten Simon’s wrists then leaning in to kiss him with fierce stabs of his tongue. “Want you to fuck me.”

Simon is more than willing and sinks into Jayne, lost inside a fantasy where this is their honeymoon night and he’s taking Jayne’s virginity. To begin with it’s a thrill but then, as he leans over, trailing the flat of his tongue up the ridge of Jayne’s spine, it dawns on him that this week may be more about goodbyes than new beginnings. The sex lulls to a slow burn and as reality takes over, Simon runs his fingertips over Jayne’s body, mapping every dip and plane and storing them away in his mind.



Chapter Sixteen