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It was gettin' on towards midnight when Jayne finally sneaked outta the kitchen and made his way to his bunk. They'd had another of them nights where everyone sat 'round laughin' and talkin' for hours like they had the good sense God'd given shit beetles. Maybe it was all right for them, but Jayne had a mission to be gettin' on with, and all that fraternizin' were an unwelcome interference.
And Mal hadn't been there. Made it all pointless as nipples on a billy goat.
Jayne double and triple checked the locks before creepin' over to the little nightstand next to his bed. One big, rough hand reached into the shadows of the drawer, callused fingers pickin' out what he needed by touch alone. There were knives in there, big uns, and extra ammo for the arsenal of guns that hung on the walls where they weren't covered by pictorials of scantily clad space floozies.
(Jayne liked his space floozies. Weren't nothing like a space floozy to make him feel like a man outside of killin' a man, and well... Weren't half so illegal rollin' a few floozies over as it was blowin' folks away. He figgered it evened out the tone of the decor, or sumpin'. Sumpin' like that anyway.)
Thick fingers curled around something long, thin, deadly... With a faint grunt of pleasure, he pulled his knittin' needles outta the drawer. Under his pillow was the ball of yarn and the half-finished hat. It were pretty cunnin' so far, iff'n he did say so himself. And he did.
"Pretty damned cunnin', I think," he said approvingly as he pulled his own orange and yeller cap on, settlin' the earflaps proper over the sides of his face.
Then he perched on his stool and started knittin', mutterin' under his breath, remindin' himself of what he was doin'. His voice sounded like his mother's in his ears, and it was a good thing too, 'cause Jayne'd never tried knittin' nothin' before. He'd watched her 'nuff though as a boy, lyin' on the floor of their little house with Matty gazin' up at her like she'd hung the moons, and he was gorram good with his hands besides.
"Knit one, purl one," he was sayin', and doin' it while he said it.
He weren't the best in the 'verse at math, but he knew enough to count, and numbers was money, and he knew how to handle that fine-just-fine. The earflaps was a bit tricksy, but he was determined. He had to finish this tonight, or it weren't gonna get done. If he'd had any other choice, he'd have been shinin' up Vera real nice for the go-se they'd be facin' planetside in the mornin', but this were more important.
"Purl two together, knit two together," he chanted, and it were almost done, truth be told, and he just might make it.
"Jayne!"
Jayne's head whipped around so fast he must've knocked sumpin' loose in his skull, and he was on his feet like lightnin', shoving things away as quick as he ruttin' could. Mal was back on board, and he'd not take kindly to findin' doors locked against him on his own ship. Jayne didn't hardly blame him, neither. There weren't time to ferret things properly away, so he just jammed his pillow on top of the mess of it and went for the door to let Mal in.
"Cap'n?" he said, and as respectfully as he could manage, retreating to his bunk so he could try hidin' the evidence with his bulk.
"What did I tell your crazy ass about locking this door against me?"
Mal sounded none too pleased, and the look in his eyes made Jayne's brows rush in at one another like swoopin' eagles. There weren't no right answer to that.
"I reckon you said you didn't like it, Mal."
"Gorram right I don't like it, Jayne. That's why you ain't s'posed to do it. Are we clear?"
"'s this mean I cain't kiss you hello?" Jayne asked, face falling and his bottom lip juttin' out just a bit. He wouldn't've done it if he knew he were doin' it.
With a heavy, exasperated sigh, Mal moved to Jayne's side and sat down on the pillow, which was about the only bit of bunk in easy reach that Jayne weren't takin' up. His ass hadn't half landed before he yelped and jumped up, cursin' like an older soldier than he was and grabbin' his backside like he was snakebit. He glared at Jayne, then at the lumpy pillow, then back at Jayne. There was a lot of glare in that glare. It was prob'ly the glariest glare that ever glared, iff'n you asked Jayne, but then, you prob'ly weren't. Mal weren't either.
Without being told, Jayne picked up the pillow and revealed the knittin' needles and the accompanyin' bits of yarn and mostly finished cunnin' hat.
"It's for you," Jayne said gruffly, his expression almost painfully hopeful.
Without givin' Mal a chance to say anythin', he grabbed one of the many big damn knives in arm's reach and cut the hat free of the needles and extra yarn, then rose smoothly to his feet and jammed the slightly tatty and very lopsided thing on his head. Mal just stared, but it weren't the same glarey stare, it were just an ordinary stare, and Jayne was used enough to that. It didn't mean nothin', anyway. Nothin' he couldn't handle.
"It's gonna be cold down there. Didn't trust that worthless doctor to keep you from catchin' sumpin'."
The stare turned into crinkled-up eyes, and Jayne had a feelin' he'd maybe won this round.
"You gonna kiss me now?"
Mal looked thoughtful, and Jayne almost started to worry, but then he smiled and said, "Yeah, I reckon I'm gonna."
"Can we grapple after?"
It weren't quite a snort Mal made, but it was close anyway. "Yeah, I reckon we oughta."
The End.