Author's Note: Written for the first official 2008 challenge over in the rayne_shippers comm on LiveJournal. I had lots of fun coming up with synonyms for “vomit”. :D Like everyone else’s stories, this is not beta’d.

GOOD GUYS, BAD GUYS AND THE WILEY SPECIAL HELL

Jayne clapped his hand over his mouth and hurriedly turned his head to avoid vomiting all over the floor. He groaned loudly as he shifted to sit next to his un-chosen stainless steel deity.

“Shut ur gob and quit moanin’” Mal grumped from the other side of the toilet. He was quiet for a moment but then lurched up to take a spew into the toilet himself.

“This is all yer fault.” growled Jayne, crossing his arms over his stomach. He grimaced when he realized he had some sort of red sauce crusted over the front of his shirt.

“How in the ‘verse, is this my fault?” asked Mal. He glared at the girl on the other side of their small jail cell sleeping with her back towards them. “If anythin’ this is River’s fault. She’s the one talked us inta this. How come ya ain’t blamin’ her? An’ how come she ain’t heavin’?”

Jayne conceded that Mal had something of a point. But he wasn’t about to go around accusing a moony person of just anything when said moony person might forget her vow of nonviolence and pull his balls off in less time than it takes to tell. Mal grunted in reply.

Not long after the whole Miranda business, River had for some reason unknown to anyone besides herself, decided to take a vow of non-violence. That of course, suited everyone just fine. But when she decided that everyone else could also benefit from such a vow, Mal and his penchant for getting into fistfights with disreputable men whose pockets he’d plundered found themselves in not quite mortal danger. Fortunately for Mal and his penchant, River was happy to suggest alternative ways of bilking slavers out of their money.

Unfortunately for Jayne, that often meant he ended up in situations of varying levels of humiliation. Waking up in a jail cell with an orner