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“A word, Doc.”
Mal’s voice is stern, but not the kind of stern he sounds when he’s cross with Simon about something. Simon breathes a sigh of relief at the realization that this visit is probably not about his personal life choices, even as he tenses in anxious anticipation: There are only a couple of things that predictably make the captain sound like he does now, and none of them are very good.
Simon puts the sanitized scalpel down next to the sink and reaches for his emergency bag without hesitation. In his mind, he is running through the list of potential incidents that could have occurred on a day like this. It’s a rather slow day on Serenity. The list he comes up with is still remarkably long.
“I’m ready, Captain,” he says. “How bad is it? Do we need …”
“Doc,” Mal says again, and when Simon forces himself to look at him, he realizes that the captain is smiling, very faintly.
Simon takes a deep breath and wills his heartrate to slow down. Alright then.
“I take it there is not actually a medical emergency,” he says, only mildly embarrassed.
“Not on this ship anyways,” Mal responds a little cryptically. “Good to see that you are ready at a moment’s notice, though, Doctor.”
“Well,” Simon shrugs, and sets his medical bag carefully down on the counter. “With the kind of situations this crew seems to keep getting into on a regular basis …”
“Point taken,” Mal says, hands in his pockets. The little smile has disappeared already.
“Wash caught a signal from the core, is what I am here to tell you.”
Simon blinks.
“The core …?” he repeats slowly.
“Osiris, more precisely,” Mal says, and Simon is starting to understand the reason for Mal’s grim expression.
“Wave for you on the bridge.”
“Yes, of course, I am coming.” Simon drags a nervous hand through his hair. “River …”
“Believe she’s in the engine room with Kaylee,” Mal says, which means the captain is here in person because he wanted to let Simon decide whether to fill her in or not. He actually feels touched, even though it’s a moot point, which Mal probably knows as well as he does. Trying to keep secrets from River has hardly ever worked out well.
“She should be there,” he says heavily, and Mal nods as if he expected nothing else.
He hits the intercom at the door to the infirmary.
“Kaylee.”
“Captain!” The mechanic’s cheerful voice filters through the speaker. “So, about that new alternator you promised me last week …”
Mal pulls a face. “Later,” he interrupts. “Come to the bridge and bring the little bird with you. There’s something she oughta hear.”
“Your father had been ill for quite some time,” the family lawyer says. The metal plate on his desk declares that his name is Jarred Song. Simon doesn’t remember this one. He is not surprised. His parents have always had a stable of lawyers at their disposal.
“He passed away two weeks ago. Your mother is hoping that you and your sister will be able to come to Osiris at your earliest convenience. There are matters of inheritance to consider, and it would be easier to do so in person.”
“Inheritance,” Simon repeats blankly. “I assumed he had disowned us both.”
Song looks as if he has bitten into a lemon. “That would be highly irregular,” he says stiffly. “You are the only male heir, there are no other living descendants with a direct claim.”
“But doesn’t everything just go to Mother?” Simon asks, then pauses. “Wait. You didn’t say that Mother –“
“Your mother is well, or as well as is to be expected under these difficult circumstances,” Song says. “She is taken care of. She will be joining a convent.”
River giggles. Someone else snorts. Simon keeps a straight face with difficulty. He feels hysterical laughter bubbling in his chest.
“A convent,” he says.
The lawyer nods, unperturbed. “She will be living a quiet life of contemplation and prayer,” he says. “It’s been set up for a long time. A considerable donation has been made to the convent, but your mother will not be permitted to keep much material property.”
He rustles his papers, a little impatiently. “When do you think we can expect you?”
“Uh, eh, I am not sure …” Simon stammers. He catches River’s eye, then glances around.
By the time he and River made it to the bridge, the rest of the crew had predictably found a reason to be there as well. All but one are watching him and River intently with various degrees of concern and speculation.
Jayne is cleaning his fingernails with a combat knife, appearing deeply immersed in his work.
Simon looks back at the screen.
“Actually, I will need to discuss this with the crew. I am sure you understand.”
The lawyer clearly doesn’t but is too polite to say so. “Of course,” he nods, “I will expect your decision shortly.”
The connection cuts off abruptly, leaving the bridge for a brief moment in total and intense silence.
“How are you feeling?” Kaylee asks, glancing at them with wide, sad eyes. “You don’t seem … you don’t seem terribly upset.”
River smiles broadly. “We have been dead children for a long time.”
Kaylee’s gaze flits towards Simon nervously.
“Yeah,” he says, because he actually doesn’t know how to explain it better. “Something like that.”
“It’s obviously your decision,” Wash says.
“Hey –“ Mal starts to protest, but he closes his mouth at a sharp glance from Zoë.
“What are you thinking?” she asks calmly.
Simon takes a deep breath. “I am thinking that neither River nor I have much of a desire to set foot on Osiris ever again,” he says.
“I am also thinking that Kaylee was talking about buying a new alternator.”
Mal gives him a speculative look. “Are you saying …”
“I am saying that the money from the inheritance is likely a pretty considerable sum,” Simon replies.
“It’s your family inheritance,” Inara says gently.
“Yes, well, and a part of it could probably keep us in the air for a long time. It could be another Ariel job.” Simon studiously does not look at Jayne. “You play escort, I pay you a part of the bounty.”
“Gotta say it’s difficult to turn down that kind of offer,” Mal says. “We’re a little low on resources and prospective jobs as of this moment. And the ship ain’t getting any younger.”
“Is it safe, though?” Wash asks. “Any chance it could be a trap?”
Simon glances at River, who is twirling her hair around an index finger and whistling quietly. “The warrants have been revoked. River and I are just your garden-variety low-level criminals now, and we have never committed any offense on Osiris since we first left. I don’t quite know what my father was thinking, but it’s more likely some kind of psychological game he’s playing from beyond the grave than a way to get us arrested.”
“If the captain is willing to take us into orbit, I’d be happy to fly you to the surface in my shuttle,” Inara says. “There are some things I should stock up on, errands I can run. It wouldn’t be a waste of time.”
“Thank you,” Simon nods. “If you don’t mind taking me – us,” he corrects hastily when he sees River’s facial expression, “that would be much appreciated.”
“I am coming,” Jayne says, without looking up from his crude manicure work.
Simon blinks. He’s not the only one.
“You want to go to Osiris?” Wash says slowly. “I thought you hated the core.”
“What?” Jayne grunts. “You just said, could be a trap. Well, if it’s a trap someone needs to come along, keep an eye on the doc and his sis.”
“Except if you are going, someone should probably tag along to keep an eye on you,” Zoë says dryly.
“Oh can we?” Wash says excitedly. “Not to babysit Jayne, I mean. But you did promise me we’d finally do the spa and fancy dinner thing when the situation presents itself.”
“Did you say spa?” Kaylee asks, intrigued.
Inara raises her hands. “I’m afraid the shuttle isn’t really set up to carry that many passengers unless it’s an emergency.”
“Seems like it’s going to be a class trip,” Mal says, sounding resigned and not terribly unhappy. “I reckon this means we are all going.”
“Yeah,” Simon says slowly, staring at Jayne, who is still not looking up from his hands.
“I suppose so.”
Simon is so preoccupied as he climbs down the ladder from the bridge, trailing behind the others, that he doesn’t notice Jayne’s bulky form at the bottom of the steps until a large hand folds itself around his arm.
“You coming to my bunk?” Jayne asks, actually looking at Simon for the first time today.
Simon glances down at Jayne’s fingers wrapped around his biceps, then at the passageway, then back at Jayne’s hand.
“I was on my way to check on River,” he says reluctantly.
Jayne snorts. “You know your sis is doin’ alright these days. Has not even tried to murder me none, past couple years.”
Simon laughs ruefully. “I know,” he admits. “I suppose it’s just habit. And also,” he shrugs and looks down at his feet. “Well. Apparently our father died.”
The hard grip on his arm loosens, and Simon isn’t entirely sure whether to feel disappointed or relieved at the loss of contact.
“Come find me when you are done,” Jayne says, and briefly and deftly slaps Simon’s ass before he walks away.
“Hun dan!” Simon mutters, then catches himself smiling, and curses some more.
He finds River in her bunk, stretched out on the bed with her datapad, immersed in the screen. She doesn’t look particularly pleased to see him.
“Shouldn’t you be getting naked right now?” she asks impatiently, barely glancing up from her reading.
“River!” he exclaims, scandalized.
She raises her brows. “If you want me to pretend not to know anything, you need to be a lot more subtle.”
He sighs, letting go of his irrational hope to avoid this conversation forever. “Are you alright with this?” He coughs delicately. “I know you and him don’t always see eye to eye.”
She shrugs, unbothered. “You like his penis.”
He feels the heat rise in his cheeks. “Yes,” he says faintly. “I suppose I do. Among … other body parts.”
She snorts.
“But I came to see how you are doing, mei-mei,” he continues.
“Reading up on the mutations in fruit flies on terraformed rim planets,” she says. “It’s become a serious environmental complication on Meridian. I am looking for other case studies to compare data, but the scholarship is flawed. How are you doing?”
He bites his lip. “Honestly, I don’t know.”
She glances up from her pad with a mischievous smirk. “Maybe getting naked would help.”
He clears his throat. “Fine, I can take a hint. Don’t stay up too late.”
“Shoo,” she makes, already distracted by her reading again, and he marvels at her ability to suddenly make him feel like the younger sibling, after all these years.
“That was quick,” Jayne remarks when Simon climbs down the ladder into his bunk. He doesn’t sound too upset about it.
Simon heaves a sigh. “River told me to leave and go be naked.”
Jayne chuckles, and reaches for Simon the moment his feet hit the ground. “Gotta say, can’t argue with your sister on that one.”
“Yeah, well,” Simon says, and tilts his head back to give Jayne better access to his neck. “I wish she’d stay out of my head when it comes to my sex life.”
“S’ what you get for savin’ her life,” Jayne says without much compassion, working the buttons on Simon’s shirt with surprisingly nimble fingers. To be fair, he has had a lot of practice lately.
“You are awful,” Simon responds, because it’s expected of him, but there’s not much heat behind the words.
“So you goin’ back to Osiris, Doc?” Jayne asks casually, his attention fully occupied by the cufflinks trapping Simon’s wrists in the sleeves.
Simon frowns. “You were on the bridge when we had that conversation barely an hour ago. Even your memory is not that bad.”
“Not what I mean,” Jayne shakes his head, not even bothering to feign offense at the weak insult. He drops the cufflinks on the side table without much care and pushes the shirt down over Simon’s shoulders. “You gonna be a rich man. Could settle down on Osiris, make a new life.”
The shirt hits the floor. “Find a wife, have kids.”
“Uh, what?” Simon asks, feeling slightly overwhelmed between the sensation of Jayne’s rough hands on his bare skin and the unexpected interrogation about his future. He is ready to dismiss the question but Jayne seems oddly serious, and that stops him in his tracks.
His movements still. He stares at the wall behind Jayne’s left shoulder. The pinup girl on the poster with the kraken stares back at him, seductive as always and unfazed.
“There’s things I miss about Osiris almost every day,” he says. “Food. Hot water. The botanic gardens. But it doesn’t matter. Even if I wanted to go back, I don’t have a life there anymore. River would never be able to be happy there.” He sighs.
“And I am not the same person I was.”
“Hm,” Jayne makes, noncommittally, then spins him around without warning. Simon reaches for the bars of the ladder in order not to lose his balance, and Jayne takes advantage by pushing him forward, one hand curled around his hip, the other splayed against the back of his neck.
“Gonna fuck you now,” he announces, and there’s really not much Simon can say to that kind of non sequitur other than widen his stance and arch his back.
The lawyer’s assistant is looking rather nervous when Simon and River invade her pristine front office flanked by two Browncoats, a brute, and a man wearing a bright green shirt with orange palm trees.
“We didn’t realize you would be bringing friends,” she squeaks, then blushes when Mal winks at her.
Jayne grunts and wanders around the luxurious office, eyeing with keen interest some of the antiques on display.
The assistant’s eyes widen in alarm.
“You are … interested in art?” she asks.
“Huh?” Jayne looks up with a confused expression that quickly morphs into a wide grin. “Oh, yes, very.”
Simon quietly wonders how many of the artworks are accidentally going to end up in Jayne’s pockets by the time they leave the place. With mild horror, he realizes that the thought mostly ignites a kind of gleeful curiosity in him.
The assistant’s datapad dings. She looks down at the screen, then up at Simon.
“Mr. Song is ready for you now.” She hesitates. “Perhaps your friends would like to wait downstairs? I am sure it will take a while.”
Jayne shakes his head. “We didn’t come all the way down here just to wait in the lobby, dong ma?”
His right hand is buried in the pocket of his cargo pants in a demonstratively casual way. Simon is impressed at his choice. The little emerald bird that had been standing on the side table until just a minute ago must easily be worth a couple thousand credits.
“We are here for moral support,” Mal says with a wide challenging smile. “Can’t support these two from the court square downstairs, if you get my meaning.”
“Well, if you insist …” the assistant says weakly, throwing Simon a pleading look, as if she’s hoping he might intervene. Simon shrugs and smiles innocently.
She ushers them into the lawyer’s office, then quickly throws the door closed behind them as if to trap a herd of wild animals in a cage. At the slam of the door, Simon looks up and with a sinking feeling realizes that despite what he thought, he was not actually prepared to see his mother again.
She is in mourning, and even though she is wearing an elegant business dress, the white somehow makes her look like a nun already. She has also gotten older. It’s been five years since he has seen her in person but it feels a lot longer than that. Her brother Roman is sitting next to her, as stiff and grey as he’s ever been. He runs a highly successful restaurant chain. Simon remembers him telling their mother once that one of her children was too pretty and the other one too smart. Neither had been a compliment.
Mr. Song rises from his seat. “So glad you could make it,” he says, gesturing at the two chairs set up in front of his desk. Simon glances at the chairs, then at River, then at the others. It seems that they will all be standing for the foreseeable future.
“Hya,” Jayne grins and gives a little wave. Simon sees his mother go pale, and the sliver of the old Simon that still survives can actually relate. Jayne’s toothy grin is the kind of look that for the longest time used to make Simon wonder if this was indeed Jayne’s awkward attempt at appearing friendly, or if he was just trying to decide whether Simon would taste better steamed or fried.
Now that he’s thinking about it, Simon still hasn’t quite figured it out, but he tends to worry a lot less about being turned into a protein source for dinner these days, so it’s become somewhat of a moot point.
“Simon,” his mother says, once she regains her composure. “River.”
She does not stand to greet them.
“Mother,” Simon says. “Uncle.”
River pulls a piece of treacle candy from her pocket and flips it into her mouth. Uncle Roman’s face twists in open disdain. Their mother twitches nervously.
“It was good of you to come,” she says. “Your father would have wanted you here, Simon. You know you are your father’s only heir.”
“Well, and River,” Simon frowns.
His uncle sighs. “You are the oldest,” he says. “And male. And from what we understand,” he hesitates, “she is not mentally competent.”
“She’s also standing right here,” Simon says slowly. River smiles sharply. Then she rolls her eyes back and sticks out her tongue. Simon cannot even blame her.
“Why didn’t he just give everything to charity?” he asks. “I thought he didn’t want anything to do with us anymore.”
His mother looks uncomfortable. “The expected donations have been made. If it had been significantly more than current convention, people would have talked.”
“Right,” Simon nods. “That would of course have been terrible.”
The lawyer clears his throat.
“I am going to read the relevant parts of the will now,” he announces. “This document was dictated and signed by Gabriel Tam on the tenth day of the eighth month of 2521. It was notarized by me, in the presence of Regan Tam. The relevant passage states: ‘All my remaining property, in the amount of 250’000 credits, goes to my oldest and only son, Simon Tam.’”
Jayne whistles. Wash raises his brows.
“Are there conditions?” Mal asks.
“Thank you for asking, there are indeed,” Song continues. “’The amount shall be disbursed to him in virtual credits or hard currency, at his choice, provided that at the time of my death, my son is practicing his learned trade as a doctor, and that at least one of my children is committed to a partner in faithful marriage.’”
“Now wait a minute,” Jayne says.
“’If one or both of the above-listed conditions are not fulfilled, all my property will be going to my wife’s nieces and nephews.’”
Simon snorts, rather inelegantly. His uncle’s presence in the room suddenly makes a lot of sense.
“Really,” he asks his mother. She blushes and pulls up her shoulders defensively.
“All your father ever wanted was for you to settle down and live up to your potential.”
The lawyer looks interested. Simon wonders how much he was promised to ensure that the money would go to Roman’s kids. “Based on your reaction and previous information, am I right in assuming that you are not in fact in compliance with either of the conditions stipulated in the will?”
“He’s a doctor alright,” Mal says, arms crossed in front of his chest. “Has been working as our ship’s medic for five years now. Gets paid same as everyone else on the crew. Has been earning it too.” He smirks. “Will doesn’t say he oughta be working in a hospital, does it?”
The lawyer reluctantly shakes his head. “It does not,” he says. “So I suppose the first condition is fulfilled. But this still leaves the question of marriage …”
“This is Jayne,” Simon says, right before his brain catches up with his mouth.
“What?” his uncle asks, turning a horrified look on Jayne, who is currently scratching the stubble on his chin with intense dedication.
Their mother swallows. “Are you saying that River got married to this … man?”
River grins.
“No,” Simon says, a little too loudly for the suddenly very quiet room. “I am saying that I got married to him.”
Wash coughs. Zoë presses her lips together. Mal throws him a suspicious glare. River smiles sweetly.
Jayne looks stunned.
Simon can’t blame him. The idea is utterly ridiculous, of course. He must be losing his mind. Just because he and Jayne, in recent weeks, have had one or two unlikely but heated secretive encounters (or five … well, eighteen, in fact … or actually closer to twenty-five, not that anyone is counting), doesn’t mean that they are close to being in an actual relationship, much less a marriage. It’s just sex, is what it is. Uncomplicated, satisfying, and without consequences, if you don’t count River’s teasing and the occasional bite marks that are kept carefully hidden underneath a buttoned-up shirt collar until they fade.
But Simon will be damned if he’s leaving this place without the money because of his father’s petty narrow mind and his petty narrow heart and his petty narrow rules … and if there’s anything Jayne will understand, Simon realizes with a spark of relief, it’s that you do what you have to do to get the money.
“Well,” the lawyer says finally. “There are no stipulations regarding the identity of your spouse. So you being married to Mr. …” he struggles visibly.
“Cobb,” Jayne says, surprisingly cheerfully for someone who just got fake-married to a prissy core boy without his consent. “Jayne Cobb.”
“… to Mr. Cobb does fulfill the requirements laid out in the will. Obviously we’ll need the paperwork for our records, but I am sure that won’t be difficult to provide.”
“Paperwork,” Simon repeats, trying to keep his voice level even as he feels the tendrils of panic lapping at his heart. How stupid of him to think he was going to get away with this ludicrous scam.
“Yes,” Song looks up distractedly. “Marriage contract. Certificate. License.”
Simon opens his mouth, although what to say he isn’t sure.
“I’m –“ he stammers. “That’s not –“
Jayne cuts him off with a chuckle that sounds genuinely amused. “Ain’t no such thing as marriage paperwork on rim planets, Mister Lawyer,” he shakes his head. “Paper is too damn precious to waste on putting down words about somethin’ you can just go and tell people about when they ask.”
The lawyer narrows his eyes, clearly alarmed at the notion of an improperly documented marital union.
“So …” he says slowly. “Are you saying that … uhm … where you are from, there is no official ritual to seal a marriage bond?”
“There’s a ritual alright,” Jayne grins. “Just don’t involve no paperwork.”
Song looks seriously unsettled now, his gaze trailing towards Simon as if he’s looking for guidance.
Simon nods grimly to affirm Jayne’s words, even as he is struggling to keep a straight face at the way Jayne is playing along. Because of course every word Jayne just uttered is complete and utter fei hua. Simon knows for a fact that marriage licenses exist across the system, has seen several certificates from different rim planets, including one from the small backwater planet that has spit out Jayne. And if Simon knows this, it stands to reason that Jayne knows it as well. But Jayne also knows how neatly the idea of barbarian wedding rituals fits into core folks’ prejudices about the rim, and he is exploiting their bias shamelessly.
Simon cannot help but be a little in awe.
“So,” their mother says hesitantly, since the lawyer seems to have lost his ability to speak. “If you don’t mind me asking – what does this kind of ritual entail?”
Jayne gives her a shark’s grin – wide and all teeth. “Most places folks just rut and then spit on it.”
There’s a strange noise echoing loudly in the absolute dead silence following that announcement, and it’s hard to say where the sound is coming from: whether it’s Wash who looks like he’s about to bite through his tongue to keep himself from cracking up, or whether it’s their mother who looks as if she’s awfully close to fainting.
And the thing is, part of Simon – what’s left of the old Simon – wants to just disappear in the ground to escape the mortifying awkwardness of the situation. But another, bigger part of him thinks that whatever comes out of this – even if this ends with him getting arrested for marriage and inheritance fraud –, it will have been worth it just to see the look of sheer horror on his uncle’s face at Jayne’s crude words.
The lawyer clears his throat, red-faced, not looking either of them in the eye.
“But without paperwork the marriage is not considered binding.”
“Are you telling me my wife is not a respectable woman?” Wash asks, eyes wide in fake outrage. “Because we may not be from the core, Mister, but we’ve been married for a long time, and she’s a good woman, and I won’t let anyone cast suspicion on her virtue.”
Zoë rolls her eyes, although Simon doesn’t know if it’s because she keeps their perfectly legible marriage certificate in a small safety box in their bunk, as he happens to know, or because she can defend her virtue just fine all by herself.
“Oh no no,” the lawyer quickly raises his hands. “I wasn’t suggesting that at all. I merely meant to say that we do need the paperwork done in order to execute the will … but surely a solution can be found.”
He brightens, although it seems to take a little effort. “You can go to city hall tomorrow, get it formalized, just put your signatures down and we are good to go.”
“Signatures?” Jayne whispers loudly, close enough to Simon’s ear that his breath gently tickles the hair in Simon’s neck. “Do I have to read somethin’?”
“It’s an easy enough process,” Simon says quietly, and forces himself not to tilt his head, because this is most definitely not that kind of moment.
“We can talk about it later.”
Jayne doesn’t respond, although he does retreat from Simon’s space. Simon turns his head, but he cannot read the expression on Jayne’s face. He wonders if he’ll be sleeping alone in his own bunk again once this adventure is over, and doesn’t entirely like the feeling the thought evokes.
“Yay!” Wash says, and reaches for River’s hand. “We need to tell the others! There’s going to be a wedding tomorrow!”
River expertly spins him in a circle and laughs. “Love and sex and so much cake.”
Their mother looks like she deeply regrets postponing her departure for the convent. The lawyer looks like he regrets most of the choices he’s made in his professional career.
Simon resists the urge to bury his face in his hands and tries to come to terms with the fact that tomorrow at this time of day, he will be legally wedded to Jayne gorram Cobb, who may or may not end up never talking to him again.
Mal, Wash, and Zoë return to Serenity for the night to get some sleep, or rather, as Simon secretly fears, to tell the rest of the crew over a bottle of terrible booze all about Simon’s flirtation with insanity and, possibly worse, to plan some horrifyingly embarrassing surprise for the fake wedding between two members of their crew, who, to their knowledge, at best tolerate each other and at worst despise each other’s guts.
Simon has been perfectly alright with the general assumption that this is what he and Jayne are to each other. He is less sure how he feels about the speculative glances the others throw him now as they filter out the door. Although the pleased little smiles River keeps shooting him as she dances her way out the office aren’t all that much better.
Because their mother is a respectable woman who believes in decorum more than almost anything, River and Simon are expected to stay with her at their family home in Capital City. Because Jayne is, for all intents and purposes, Simon’s spouse, he is reluctantly invited along as well.
Which means that dinner is, predictably, a rather awkward affair.
Jayne frowns deeply when the maid sets a steaming plate in front of him with a curtsy.
“Who are you?”
The maid glances at him with some apprehension. “I am Terra, at your service, Sir,” she says.
“Huh,” Jayne says. He squints up at Simon. “Didn’t never tell me you had servants ’n such.”
Simon pulls up his shoulders in something like an apology. “We did,” he says. “A cook, a maid, a butler, the tutors, the gardener.”
“And the driver,” River pipes up.
“And the driver,” Simon agrees.
“Uhuh,” Jayne makes, and then digs into his food and doesn’t say anything for a while – which is not to say that he doesn’t make any noises.
Regan Tam watches him devour his braised abalone with horrified fascination. River grins and starts to wolf down her own food with similar gusto. Their mother lets out a faint squeak.
Simon smiles at her and starts to work on his bowl with slightly more restraint. It’s very good, just like he expected – the kind of food he sometimes fantasizes about when he’s lying awake in his bunk after one too many meals consisting of nothing but water and synthetic protein.
It’s difficult to imagine now, to eat this kind of food every day and not give it a second thought, but that’s what their childhood was like. Meanwhile, there’s a good chance that Jayne has never tasted these dishes or half the ingredients before in his life, if the rapt expression on his face as he licks a leftover drop of sauce off his spoon is any indication.
He belches and pushes the empty bowl away from him with a satisfied sigh. “S’good food.”
“Thank you,” their mother says stiffly. “I will be sure to let the cook know.”
River leans across the table with a conspiratorial look. “There is going to be dessert.”
After dinner, which true to River’s word concludes with delicate tiny cakes and fresh strawberry mousse, their mother somewhat pointedly asks the maid to show their guest to Simon’s room “so he can make himself comfortable.” Her not very subtle strategy of trying to get rid of Jayne is so unsubtle, in fact, that even Jayne immediately picks up on it. He looks ready to dig in his feet but Simon nods at him in a way that he hopes conveys reassurance, and surprisingly the mercenary leaves without further protest.
Simon watches him go with mixed feelings. On the one hand, putting distance between Jayne and his mother lets Simon breathe more easily immediately ... seeing them at a table together is perhaps the most vivid metaphor he could have conjured up for the incompatibility between his past and his present life. On the other hand, he isn’t entirely sure how he feels about Jayne spending time alone in his childhood bedroom either.
Or about River and him being alone with their mother, for that matter. Once Jayne has trotted off with a lazily appropriated renegade salute that makes Regan Tam wince all over again, the three of them stand around like the forgotten pieces of a board game in the vast living space that feels so terribly unlived in. Their mother walks over to the couch and unnecessarily busies herself with fluffing the cushions that no one has been sitting on.
River pokes Simon in the arm. “Smile,” she says. “You are getting married tomorrow.”
“Yes,” Simon says quietly. “You don’t mind, mei-mei?”
River rolls her eyes at him and laughs as if he has said something funny. “I want you to be happy, stupidhead,” she says.
Simon frowns. “I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean.”
“I can see that,” River says, and pokes him again. “You talk now,” she says, and tilts her head towards their mother. “I play.”
She bounces over to the piano, which she hasn’t touched in almost six years, and sits down to launch into a flawless sonata without glancing even once at the keys.
Their mother stands frozen with a cushion in her hands. Simon takes pity on her and crosses the room to gently pry it from her fingers and set it back down on the couch.
“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” he says.
His mother looks at him with confused, pleading eyes.
“Why, Simon?” she asks.
“Why what?” he asks distractedly, one ear still following the dance of River’s fingers across the keys.
“Why him?”
“Oh,” Simon says, not being able to hide his disappointment. “I don’t know – why did you marry Father?”
His mother looks at him as if he is speaking a different language. “We were well-suited. A good match.”
Simon shrugs. “Well, there you have it.”
His mother stares. “You can’t possibly mean that,” she says. “You should be planning a family with a nice girl from a reputable family. This … man doesn’t know how to speak in proper sentences. He eats his food like an animal. He looks … he looks like a worker.”
Granted, it’s not as if these things haven’t occurred to Simon before at one or the other point in time, but there is no way he is going to share that with his mother.
“We complement each other,” he simply responds, and after that there’s not much they have to say to each other.
However, his mother’s words echo in his mind as he eventually climbs the stairs to the upper level of the house. Why him? Because that is the big question, isn’t it, even if he has so far done his best not to confront it.
The physical attraction is not much of a surprise. While completing his residency at the hospital, Simon would, on occasion, catch the eye of an exceptionally strapping maintenance worker with bulging biceps, big hands, and a growly voice. He would lead him to the third floor storage closet behind the elevators (the one that was so out of the way that people only ever made their way there very late into the month, or in the case of major city-wide emergencies) and happily let himself be pushed up against the wall or to his knees. Afterwards, there would be no words, just the sharp nip of a kiss or a quick nod, and both would go their separate ways, as if nothing had happened at all.
It wasn’t something he was supposed to like, but it was something he liked anyway, and those quick anonymous encounters at least scratched an itch that the stiff dates with the rich young ladies his parents approved of never could.
So it’s not that Simon doesn’t understand what it is that draws him to Jayne. In fact, he is quite aware that part of the initial repulsion he felt at the mercenary’s uncouth behavior, back when they were new to Serenity and to life on the rim, was fueled by the shameful realization just how much Jayne’s strength and scent and voice appealed to him.
The real question – and this is where Simon is glad that his mother, apparently, really doesn’t know him all that well – is why Simon has been going back since the first time it happened, over and over and over again. Why he has not only returned to Jayne’s bunk over the past couple of months, but looked forward to those encounters with increasing anticipation, and why, afterwards, he doesn’t immediately slip into his pants and climb the ladder back up to the upper deck but instead tends to linger in a rather cramped position on the narrow cot next to Jayne who for some inexplicable reason has also shown little motivation to kick him out.
By the time he finds himself standing outside his bedroom door, he isn’t any closer to an answer.
“It’s me,” he calls quietly, rapping his knuckles against the door to announce his presence. He has learned the hard way that sneaking up on an unsuspecting Jayne is hardly ever a good idea.
The door swings open, and Jayne looks down at him with an expression that Simon might call anxious on anyone else.
“Took you long enough,” he says, sounding more relieved than resentful.
“My mother wanted to lecture me on my life choices,” Simon says, and ducks underneath Jayne’s arm to slip into the room.
“She don’t think I’m good enough for you,” Jayne says matter-of-factly, but with a hint of amusement, as if the notion secretly pleases him.
“Well, obviously,” Simon says and gingerly sits down on the bed. Discreetly, he scans the room with some trepidation, but aside from the slightly rumpled covers indicating that someone has been sitting on them, everything looks to be in place – as far as he can tell: after all, he hasn’t been back in this room himself for five years. Jayne could have swiped all the valuable objects in the room, and Simon might not even notice.
“Strange to be back here,” he says, his fingers toying with the impossibly soft fabric underneath his hand. “It looks like they left it like it was. My books, my art …”
He looks up at Jayne. “You must think our lives were ridiculously decadent.”
Jayne shrugs, running his hand over the shining surface of the beautiful desk.
“You saying they weren’t? With this place being all sorts of fanciful and full of servants?”
Simon snorts. “Fair point.”
“I understand now,” Jayne says. His nails dig into the wood, leaving a small nick in the surface of the desk. Simon’s mother would be horrified. Simon has a hard time bringing himself to care.
“What do you understand?” he asks. He leans down to untie his shoes.
“This,” Jayne says. “You. Them and you.”
Simon pauses in his movement, staring up at Jayne defensively.
“You mean, you understand how I became the uptight prissy core boy you used to hate so much? I thought we’d had that conversation already.”
Jayne actually has the nerve to look a little surprised.
“Shuh muh?” he says. “I don’t hate you.”
Simon sighs. “I didn’t say you do, right now, this moment. But I think we can both agree that you …”
“Not what I mean,” Jayne interrupts. “I understand why you are not like them.”
“What?” Simon says, confused. “But you are always going on …”
“…‘bout your lily-white ass and pretty lips and fancy speech?” Jayne grins. “Well, yeah, ‘cause it’s the gorram truth. N’so maybe was a time when I thought you was like all the other folks from the core. Been a long time since I thought that. I met core-bred folks before you, you know. Either you fight them because they want to arrest you, or you steal from them because they are too dumb to notice.”
He looks away.
“But you are – complicated. Makes my head hurt something awful sometime. Kept trying to figure out why you were different. “
He heavily sinks onto the bed next to Simon and pulls off his boots with very little grace. His left sock comes off along with the shoe, and his toes twitch against the cool granite floor.
“Now I understand why you left. You don’t fit in here.”
Simon frowns. “I left because I needed to save my sister.”
“Sure,” Jayne says. “But that’s the point. Look at those people here. Ain’t anyone we met today who would’ve gone and did what you did. Your parents didn’t do nothing to stop your sister from gettin’ hurt. They are stuck. You left. That’s why you don’t fit in.”
Simon doesn’t quite know where to look. “Jayne,” he says slowly. “That may be the sweetest thing you have ever said to me.”
“Yeah well,” Jayne shrugs. “We’re ‘bout to get wed proper tomorrow. Oughta get some practice sayin’ nice things to my intended.”
Simon laughs, amused. “You do know that we are only doing that so we can get the inheritance,” he says. “You don’t need to feel like you are actually committing to anything.”
“What?” Jayne frowns, looking so confused that Simon feels some wires must have gotten crossed, though he can’t for the life of him figure out where that would have been.
“You seemed uncomfortable earlier,” he elaborates. “When we talked about signing the marriage contract. I figured you were worried about the implications of actually making it legally binding.”
The deep frown melts away into something like understanding.
“Ah, that,” Jayne says. “Was worried because the man said somethin’ about signatures. You know my writing ain’t so good.”
“Oh,” Simon says. The thought hadn’t even occurred to him.
“It doesn’t matter,” he waves off Jayne’s concern. “You can even just sign with a cross, if you’d like. In fact, it might be a good explanation for nullifying the marriage later. You can simply tell them that you weren’t able to read the contract, and missed some of the fine print.”
Jayne pulls a face. “Why would I do that?”
Simon feels a little lost. “Because …” He takes a breath. He is exhausted. “Actually, never mind.”
“Good,” Jayne says with satisfaction. “Don’t wanna talk about this no more.”
He bounces on the mattress experimentally, then does it again.
“You ever bring boys back here?” he asks speculatively. He doesn’t sound jealous precisely, but there’s an intense curiosity to his look that makes Simon shiver just a little bit.
“No,” he says. “My parents believed in tradition.”
“Uhuh,” Jayne says, his large hand gripping a fistful of the dark blue sheets, then releasing them again. “But you weren’t no virgin either.”
Simon chuckles. “I didn’t say I never had sex. Just never in here. It wasn’t worth the risk and the drama while still living under my parents’ roof.”
Jayne glances at him from the side. “You don’t live here anymore.”
Simon nods. “Indeed.”
“And I’m your legally wedded husband, seems like.”
“And?”
“Care to show me how comfortable those fancy core beds really are?”
Simon feels something heavy loosening around his shoulders. “If you put it like that,” he smiles, “how could I ever resist?”
“Always knew you were smart,” Jayne growls, and pulls him in for a kiss. A tiny shred of Simon’s mind boggles at the ridiculous situations life seems to keep throwing him into these days, but the rest of him merely sings for more, more, more.
By the time morning comes around, Jayne has proclaimed the bed as too soft for proper thrusting, which didn’t stop him from testing his hypothesis several times over. Simon supposes he cannot fault him for taking his scientific experiments so seriously, even if it means he has to put some effort into walking straight on his way to his own wedding.
Unsurprisingly, in addition to their mother and Mr. Song, the entire crew shows up for the signing. They all look unreasonably excited and a little curious, as if they are not entirely sure what kind of game they are playing and what their roles in said game are meant to be.
Simon pretty much feels the same, so he can certainly relate.
The actual procedure is efficient, and impersonal, as public matters on Osiris tend to be. The clerk reads them their rights and responsibilities according to Alliance law, which Simon thinks he should probably be paying attention to, except he keeps being distracted by River making funny faces at him from across the room and Jayne’s bare forearm brushing his elbow.
Then they sign their names in the indicated spots, Simon placing his professional signature with practiced hand, Jayne bending over the form in concentration, his tongue sticking out a little as he carefully spells out his name.
The clerk adds her own signature and a seal, hands them the original certificate and one of the copies, and just like that, they are officially married.
“That’s it?” Kaylee asks with something akin to disappointment.
“That’s it,” the clerk says, looking as if she is ready to be done with the loud mismatched group of people that has taken over her office.
“The formalities are taken care of. The marriage is legally binding.”
“Does that mean they get to kiss now?” Wash asks gleefully from the back. Mr. Song gives him a disapproving look from underneath raised brows.
“Public displays of affection are generally frowned upon.”
“Oh yeah?” Jayne says contemplatively. “That’s not how folks on the rim do it. Gotta show people you’re married proper and all, or it don’t count.”
He grins down at Simon with an untamed kind of amusement that makes Simon’s face flush and his toes tingle all at once. Then, without any warning, he reels him in to plant a hard open-mouthed kiss right on his lips.
“Uh,” Simon says.
River claps enthusiastically.
Mal clears his throat.
“Well,” Inara says delicately. “We did bring champagne. Is this a good moment to open it?”
“Hell yes,” Zoë says. She sounds uncharacteristically overwhelmed.
The clerk opens her mouth in an attempt at protest, but whatever she was trying to say is drowned out by the sound of cheering and corks popping. Simon decides that he is not going to be the one to inform his fellow crew members of Osiris’ no-alcohol policy in public offices.
Instead, he heads over to the corner where Mr. Song is hiding from the rambunctiousness of the Serenity crew to sort out the paperwork regarding the inheritance. The lawyer doesn’t seem happy at the prospect of having to find a bank willing to provide them with 250’000 credits in hard currency within the next five hours, but agrees to do what he can – probably because he realizes that the sooner they get everything sorted, the sooner the Tam siblings and their friends are going to disappear from his life.
When Simon turns away from the lawyer, he spots Jayne and his mother standing together a couple of feet away. His mother has her arms crossed in front of her chest, looking defensive and aggressive at once; Jayne is looming over her in a way that seems entirely casual but also really not.
Despite his better instincts, Simon steps a little closer, telling himself that it’s only in case he needs to intervene to prevent blood from getting spilled. He gets within hearing range just as Jayne scratches his head and shrugs.
“Why? Shouldn’t you know, being his mother and all?”
“I am asking you, though,” Regan Tam says, her voice cool.
“Look, ma’am, if you don’t know already, I’m not right certain that you’ll understand,” Jayne says, “but here it is: He’s not as bad to have around in a fight as he might look. And he’s the best when you need patching up afterwards. If he’s going to shoot you, he’s not going to do it from behind. Even if he shoots you, he’ll probably still patch you up afterwards.” Jayne smirks.
“And the rest of it don’t seem fitting to say out loud in mixed company, if you get my meaning.”
He looks up then, straight into Simon’s eyes. Simon flushes, feeling caught, but Jayne just smiles and heads in his direction, leaving Simon’s mother to stare after him with a lost expression on her face.
“Do I want to know what that was about?” Simon asks.
Jayne shrugs. “Your mama just wanted to make sure I’d take good care of you.”
“Oh yeah?” Simon replies doubtfully. “And what did you say?”
“I told her you’re awful rich now, and stubborn as a gorram mule,” Jayne grins. “You can take care of yourself.”
“Thank you for the flowers,” Simon says pointedly, but the laughter he’s struggling to hold back somewhat ruins the effect of his reproach.
“Speaking of which,” Jayne grunts, and digs in the pocket of his pants.
“Here,” he says triumphantly, and places something small in Simon’s hand before folding his fingers around it.
“Got you somethin’.”
With some trepidation, Simon raises his hand to his face and takes a quick peek. He narrows his eyes.
“You are giving me a wedding present you stole from my mother’s lawyer’s office?”
Jayne raises his brows, unfazed. “You like it, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course I like it,” Simon sighs. “It’s beautiful.”
“Good,” Jayne says, and walks over to Kaylee who’s taken control of the champagne bottle, leaving Simon standing in the middle of the office with a small emerald bird in his hand.
In the back of his mind, Simon had been worried that leaving Osiris again would feel difficult, but as Wash maneuvers the ship out of the spaceport, all he feels is immense relief. He didn’t lie when he told Jayne that he wasn’t the person he used to be, but he hadn’t quite realized just how much that was true until he actually arrived on Osiris.
“A word, Captain,” he says, coming up behind Mal in the otherwise deserted galley.
Mal looks up from his tea. “If it isn’t the lucky groom,” he drawls.
Simon groans. “You are never going to let me live this down, are you?”
Mal seems to consider the question carefully. “Probably not,” he decides.
“Fair enough,” Simon sighs. “But I am here to talk business.”
Mal snaps to attention within a split second, his joking manner turning serious at once. He gestures towards the remaining chairs at the dining table and waits for Simon to take a seat.
“I’m listening,” he says.
Simon folds his hands on the table in front of him. “I realize that I offered you a job which you accepted without negotiating the conditions, so I am here to make a suggestion, and I would like to hear if you consider it fair before we tell the rest of the crew.”
“What are you proposing?” Mal asks.
“How do you feel about 10’000 credits in payment for each crew member?”
Mal tilts his head. “That’s an awful lot of money, Doc.”
“There’s more,” Simon says, “and that’s perhaps the more delicate part. I would like to make an investment of 60’000 credits into Serenity, to be used for repairs and maintenance of the ship.”
Mal visibly recoils. “You want to buy Serenity?”
“No, Mal, I do not want to buy Serenity,” Simon says calmly. “I want to acknowledge the fact that this ship has been our home for the past five years, and that you took us in when you didn’t have to, and that I know for a fact that there’s things that need fixing to keep her flying, and it’s going to cost money you don’t have right now.” He looks Mal straight in the eye.
“You’ve seen us on Osiris,” he says. “It’s not been our home for a very long time. Serenity is the only place we got, and I’m somewhat invested in making sure it stays that way.”
Mal frowns. “You are part of my crew. You don’t need to pay to stay on board.”
Simon nods. “Which is exactly why we’d like to stay.” He raises his hands. “This will always be your ship. You’ll always be the captain. If we ever have a falling out again, you’ll be in your rights to ask us to leave, just like you have from the very beginning.” He smiles, hesitantly. “Although I am hoping you agree that our working relationship has been satisfying for the most part, these past three years.”
Mal looks torn. “That’s money I’d never be able to pay you back.”
Simon shakes his head. “You don’t understand,” he says. “I don’t expect you to pay us back. This is River and me, paying back Serenity.”
Very slowly, the clouds shadowing Mal’s eyes fade and disappear.
“Well then,” he says. “I’ll tell Kaylee she can buy the brand-new fancy alternator she’s set her eyes on. You’ll have a very happy mechanic on your hands.”
“Better take care of it quickly,” Simon nods, as he gets up from his chair. “I am sure we are going to run into trouble soon enough, and you’ll spend all the remaining money to bail someone out of jail while I’ll be sewing severed limbs back on.”
Mal barks out a laugh. “You may be onto something there, Doc,” he says.
“One more thing,” he adds, when Simon is almost out the door – and there it is: the stern voice Mal uses when he’s maybe, possibly cross with Simon.
“Captain?” Simon says apprehensively.
“You don’t reckon there’s anything else you ought to tell me?”
Simon sighs inwardly. “I suppose that depends on how much you care to know about your crew’s private lives,” he says carefully.
Mal grunts. “I don’t care to know nothin’ at all, unless it affects my ship and its operation. Soon as it affects my crew’s work, it becomes my business.”
Simon nods. “In that case, I would say that if you haven’t noticed it affecting your ship and your crew during the past three months, it’s unlikely to do so in the future.”
“Three months, huh?” Mal says slowly. “Well, see that it stays so.”
“Yes, Captain,” Simon nods. “And thank you for your support on Osiris.”
“You don’t got nothing to thank me for,” Mal shakes his head.
“Oh, and Simon?” he grins. “Congrats on the recent nuptials.”
It takes Simon a moment to realize, when he enters his bunk, that he is not, in fact, alone.
“What are you doing here?” he blurts out, which to be fair is a legitimate question. Jayne has been in his room only on rare occasions, and hardly ever since this thing between them started – mostly on account of the fact that River’s bunk is right next to Simon’s, and it turns out that neither of them performs very well in her immediate proximity.
Jayne is sitting on the bed, propped up against the headboard, booted feet on the covers, looking rather pleased with himself.
“Your sister is sleeping in Inara’s shuttle tonight,” he says, almost as if he knows what’s going on in Simon’s mind.
“She … is?” Simon says doubtfully. “What did you do to her to prompt that decision?”
“Nuthin’!” Jayne protests, looking offended. “She came up with it herself. I just laid out the facts.”
“The facts?” Simon asks, finally stepping into the room, because there’s no reason for him to keep leaning against the doorframe when his bed is right there.
“’Bout this bein’ our wedding night and all that.”
“Right,” Simon says slowly. He sits down at the end of the bed.
“About that,” he says. “I just spoke to the captain. I think he knows that we are …” he gestures between himself and Jayne’s left boot. “You know.”
Jayne frowns. “He was at our wedding,” he says. “I’d say he wouldn’t be fit to captain if he hadn’t noticed.”
“No,” Simon shakes his head. “I mean, he knows that we are … uhm … having sex.”
“Yes,” Jayne says. “He was at our wedding.”
Simon blinks. “Indeed he was. And speaking of which,” he says quickly, because one of Jayne’s hands is now slowly crawling up his thigh, “I looked into the procedure for dissolution. It’s more complicated to do it remotely but not impossible. If you’d like …”
“Shhhh,” Jayne makes, his hand coming to rest awfully close to Simon’s crotch. “I negotiate with your sister to get us a night without disruptions, and you are talkin’ bureaucracy. S'not right.”
Simon opens his legs a little wider. Jayne’s fingers immediately take advantage of the newly accessible territory.
“I just want to make sure you know your … options,” Simon breathes, trying to stop himself from blindly pushing up into Jayne’s grip.
“Lots of interesting options right here,” Jayne growls and leans in to work on the buttons of Simon’s pants.
“Are you always going to distract me from talking about this by initiating sex?” Simon asks, with fond exasperation.
Jayne raises his brows. “Don’t know. You ever gonna stop ramblin’ about dissolution and such?”
And Simon knows that he really, really should be the reasonable one. Should sit Jayne down for a proper conversation and insist that they find a way to deal with the absurd situation they have gotten themselves into.
But the warm heavy weight of Jayne’s hand cupping his balls is distracting, as is the rough pad of a tongue lapping at his collarbone, and Simon thinks that maybe ... possibly ... perhaps, they can work this out some other time.