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dreamer disease

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fanfiction [ firefly ] [Nov. 15th, 2011|11:42 pm]
dreamer disease
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title: few bullets short of a full clip
fandom: firefly 
rating: pg-15
b-noise: text from last night prompt.
genre[s]: humor, one-shot, prompt-based
spoiler[s]: some basic background
word count: 1,538


Honestly. Mal should have fucking seen this coming. But then again, hindsight is 20/20, or what ever that old-world phrase was. To see four steps ahead from the original plan and make sure things ran as smooth as a core-planet whore was Zoe’s job. That, and to make sure no one shot his ass on a job.
Gorramnit Jayne!
They had just completed a job – without a hitch for once – and they had gotten paid in full with credits. Seemed like they were set with enough money to even take some time off and visit old haunts, maybe even be a little more choosey with picking the next heist. Kaylee-girl might even get that new shiny thingy-ma-jig part she had been eyen’ and cooing for the better part of a month. So things were looking up, pantry was full and they weren’t stuck using duck-tape as the “fix-all” in the engine room. 
Then Wash came up with the brilliant plan of the crew going out for some celebratory drinks at some blackout dive on the planet of Deadwood. 
So they sat down in a back corner, ordered some drinks and for awhile forgot that they weren’t normal folk. Him and Zoe talked shop, Wash listened in adding the odd witty remark, Kaylee with her normal smitten look goo-goo over the Doc, who alternated between gazing around in disdain and playing stick-in-the-mud over the little mei-mei. River bein’ River, alternating between pounding them back like a pro and gazing around the room like she’d been having a taste of the drops as usual.
And Jayne, a few bullets short of a clip, was doin’ what he did best other than maiming and killing folk: drinking and whoring with anything with two legs, a pulse and exposed tits. Doxys and prostitutes alike, and it had been nothing but fun to watching up until the moment Mal remembered that he was going to have to take this large, liquored up and overly-aggressive mercenary back to the rutting ship.
Shiny... 
It had taken an combined effort of all 5 of them to get Jayne off the stool and out the door without him shanking someone, though quite a few were told that he was coming back and bringing Vera with him. 
After that things should have gorram calmed down once back on Serenity... 
That was two hours ago and instead of passing out like the drunk he was, Jayne decided to re-enact that last gun battle they were in, with the pots and pans, in the kitchen.
Mal should have shoved his ass out of the airlock the moment that he caught the merc eyen’ Mei-Mei. Who has thoughts about grapplin’ with someone as innocent as little Kaylee-girl! 
The “action scene” had started out of nowhere 15 minutes ago and slowly the entire crew had migrated out of their bunks to the kitchen and stood around with varying expressions ranging from amusement, Wash, down the line to Simon and even from where he was Mal could see the Doc’s fingers twitching, and was willing to bet 25 platinum that the boy was wishing the Medic Bay was closer with all with sedatives and sharp pointy objects.
Kaylee was holding River’s hand, though he couldn’t tell whether it was due to the nervous expression flashing over the mechanic’s face or a way to control the nutcase before she decided to join in the mayhem. 
Crash. Bang. Smash.
Mal returned his attention to the oversized drunk picking up the frying pan and, with his full arm extended, chuck it across the room, resulting in an ear-shattering clash of metal-on-metal and vibration rippling all around them.
At the sound of Wash chuckling and the growing feeling of annoyance mounting to epic levels, the Browncoat made a grab for Jayne in an attempted to snag his waist and yank him away from the pots and pans. Feeling only air, Mal managed to grip the belt and just when he thought he could end this madness, the sound of ripping fabric and newly exposed skin only served to take this situation to new heights of insanity. 
Malcolm Reynolds, captain and soldier, had just pantsed Jayne Cobb. In the kitchen.
And Gorramnit! The merc wasn’t wearing any underwear.
“Mal!”
“In the kitchen of all places..”
“Son-of-a-bit..”
“Well, as if this kitchen wasn’t unsanitary enough.”
“... I can see why it gets all the girls talking...”
“Kaylee!”
“… Sorry.”
Bringing a hand up to his forehead, Mal listened to the growing laughter from his pilot and even a few chuckles from his 2nd in command as they stood in the back and just watch the scene with growing enjoyment. Turning his head, he glared at the two of them as they both pasted on matching expressions of wide-eyed innocence and raised their hands up in the air with a look of surrender. 
“What Mal? What are we suppose to do?”
Mal was in the same boat of confusion as the other crew members, but this ruttin’ insanity needed to stop. This was his ship gorramit! He was in charge here, and even more then that, they need to get him out of the kitchen of all places especially with his pantless nature.
Eyeing the merc, he reasoned there was no way to physically move him from the kitchen against his will without shooting him, which Mal was more then willing to admit that idea was being fonder ever second that passed even more then normal. They had to get him contained, and from past experiences that best place for that was the airlock if only Mal then had to restrain himself from opening it outward with the merc still in it. When suddenly an idea came upon him like when the Alliance shot him in the ass.
“Kaylee, grab some of your girl clothes! None of your underthings though, nobody should be seeing those anyways mei mei!.”
With a confused look on her face, Kaylee nodded her head and scampered in the direction of her bunk/engine room before quickly returning with a handful of brightly colored shirts, some pants and a sock or two, still with a confused look on her face. Pulling the other crew members in, he discussed the plan quickly, as much as he could over the sound of flying pans and loud grunting. 
“Captain, are you sure this is..?”
“Of course it’s going to work. I mean when have you ever seen-”
“He does have a point Wash.”
“And then we just leave him in there all by his lonesome? How can we be sure that he will be okay?”
“Mei mei, he’s drunk not shot. The worst that’s going to happen is the massive hangover he will deserve tomorrow.”
As soon as the clothes were placed, the hound dog that Jayne was picked up on Kaylee’s clothing littering the floor, and, like a mutt following scraps of meat, started down the hallway following after the trail seemingly abandoned clothes. Each one that he picked off the floor, he looked at with avid interest before bring it up to his nose and inhaling deeply then moving on the next one. All the way to the airlock where the last piece of clothing rested dead center in the middle of the empty room, Mal waiting at the door just waiting silently for the right moment.
As soon as Jayne picked up the last piece of clothing, a brightly colored bra – the one item that Mal was loathe to add to the pile and let Jayne see – he slammed the door shut and quickly locked it. Once firmly secured, Mal gazed in through the small porthole and was greeted to the sight of Jayne sitting on the floor cross-legged all the clothes scattered around him like brightly-coloured flower petals. The look on the merc’s face was something that he had never seen before. It was a look of utter devastation as Jayne gazed around the room and Mal could make out the name Kaylee on his lips.
Unsure how he felt about this, the captain turned his attention back down the length of the hallway to see the rest of the group standing there in the kitchen area still waiting for the final verdict on how the plan went. His attention completely focused on the smallish of them, his beloved mei mei, now standing there, shifting from one foot to the other in nervousness. For once completely ignoring the presence of the Doc standing beside her, this time attempting to return her notice to him with no success.
Gorramnit, this whole anti-crew fraternization was started for just this reason, an attempted to stop this rutting madness from happening.
Gazing back in the small window, Jayne passed out drunk would have been an amusing sight if not for this now weighty issue in his mind.
It seemed only time would tell with this one.
__________________________ prompt prompt prompt prompt _____________________________
(724): He was banging holes in the kitchen wall with pots. They tried to pull him away but only managed to pants him. He kept "drumming".-Jayne's had a bit too much to drink and the crew needs to calm him down. Any means necessary 


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