Feedback is like Christmas morning. Please do it to me, Baby.

Gratitude galore to jing zi Betas including Jacqui, Belasera and Venamoon. I have been blessed by their knowledge and suggestions. Any and all existing errors are purely due to my own stubbornness.

Disclaimer: I don’t own nothin’ to do with Firefly. Joss is omniscient and his is the head from which my idols sprang, fully grown, muscles-flexin’. I just make them strike a pose and vogue some. God, I'm scared since this is my first fic. Wonder if Joss ever feels these jitters...

The Measure of a Jayne

Preface:

There’d been thoughts. No reason to say any different. Thoughts sprung from the way she smells, hot sweat, engine grease all girl moist. The way she walks, rolling ship in a gale hips all unconscious grace. Kaylee was, Kaylee is…all things Woman heat to Jayne.

He’s been from the corest of the worlds to the blackest black and put tab A into slot B (or into C or D) at a lot of stops in between so it ain’t as if he’s had trifling few to compare her to. But the softness, the Woman that the merc sees on the outside of this girl and on the inside too calls to the hardness of the man.

He’s afeared that… no, he knows the winsome mechanic’s always leaned toward the doc with the purty mouth, but that man’s leanin’s were all toward doctorin’ his crazy brain sister. Avoiding playin’ doctor with a more than willing lil’ Kaylee was something Serenity’s resident physician was too shee-niou stupid to realize weren’t no kind of smart. But Jayne. Jayne’s got a fever, one the doctor don’t have no meds for.

And the only prescription is more Kaylee.

Present day:

He’s gotta have him some Kaylee, can’t let nothing stop him and that surely means puzzling out gorram fecking soon how to get her to see how a muscley henchman is a remedy she has a like-need for. How he’s gonna do that while simultaneously bandaged and bleeding and too slowly recoverin’ in his least favorite ship environs (the medlab), well,