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There are certain inexorable truths that span galaxies. Toast will always fall butter-side down; someone will always get drunk and make an ass of themselves at a wedding; it will always rain on the day of the family picnic; opposites will always attract. This last one is not only tied to the previous three (and many more besides), but is a mathematical certainty. Polarity is a well-documented phenomenon, whereby the north and south poles of a pair of magnets will draw to each other like wildfire. It's physics. Or in the case of human beings, it's chemistry.
River thinks on things like this as she sleeps with Jayne: on Jayne, under Jayne, beside Jayne, around Jayne... With is a very useful preposition, to encompass so many variations and yet never lose the essence of any of them. Simon still blushes when she talks about sleeping with Jayne; with means so many things, all of them true.
It's not really a matter of opposites, she thinks, as she feels his warm breath on the back of her neck, his strong arm looped around her waist, heavy and muscular. They're both killers, after all, though her brand of killing is precise where his is blunt; she is assassination, he is attrition. In the end, a killer is a killer is a killer. But they make their living taking life from other people, and if that's not opposite, she doesn't know what is.
But it's the other things that create the more interesting dichotomy. The obvious – she comes from money, he comes from hardscrabble – to the obscure – he dreams in black and white, she dreams in color. He's the size and solidity of a brick wall, whereas River is willing to admit she's more like a china doll. It doesn't bother her when he calls her tiny because it's true, especially compared to him; his bicep, when he flexes, is bigger than her head.
Then there's the fact she's stone cold crazy, while he remains stubbornly sane.
She feels him stir behind her, and smiles into the dark. Another way they're different: River takes hours to fall asleep, listening to the quiet nightnoises of Serenity and the roaring empty silence of space beyond the ship's hull. Jayne, on the other hand, could fall asleep standing up, propped against iron spikes. Oddly enough they can both wake up instantly at the first sign of danger, though Jayne seems better able to tell what's a true threat and what's just someone making noise. River has no filters – to her every noise is a threat. Every noise is a blessing. It's very confusing. That's why she's crazy, and he's just occasionally unhinged.
Tonight Serenity is unusually cold; a heater coil blew and Kaylee said there weren't no way 'twas gettin' fixed, Cap'n, 'sgotta be bought new and shiny. Normally Jayne would be sprawled on his stomach, and River herself would be sprawled on Jayne, but tonight they're spooned up under the blankets to keep warm. Jayne's larger bulk dwarfs River's tiny frame and she feels like a Matrioshka doll, cocooned in the cozy hollow of his chest. She's discarded her customary white cotton nightie in favor of one of his t-shirts; not much warmer, but it smells like him and that makes it more suitable for snuggling. It comes to the tops of her thighs and hangs off her shoulder, but it's also big enough that she can pull her arms in out of the sleeves and keep them tucked up against her body for warmth. Jayne's got the same idea, only he's not wearing a shirt. Instead, he has his hands tucked up under her shirt, which is one of the reasons she can't sleep. His palms are warm and calloused against her smooth belly, and the sensation makes her giddy.
Again, opposites attract.
She can feel him waking up, a delicate rustling in the back of her mind. The sensation always wakes her up before him, though she frequently pretends to be asleep because she knows he likes watching her dream; likes to imagine she's dreaming about him. River doesn't mind playing the lie because when she does sleep, she does dream of him. It's impossible not to, when she's surrounded in a corona of Jayne-smell and Jayne-touch. Anyway, she far prefers them to the dreams she had before finding her way into his head, heart and bed; her Jayne dreams make her smile.
He mumbles something unintelligible into her hair and she resists the urge to giggle, which will wake him up too quickly. She enjoys these moments of quiet in-between, when his brain is still sluggish and his thoughts are muddied; when if she clears her head, she can see his dreams. Sometimes he dreams about guns, or food, or shooting things. Sometimes he dreams about her. Honestly, all his dreams are about her; just her in the guise of all his favorite things.
Tonight, however, his hands are wreaking havoc with her self-control, and she can't see past her own senses to touch his thoughts. "Mm, baby doll?" he mumbles, nuzzling his face into her hair so his whiskers scrape her shoulder. "You 'wake?"
River wriggles dreamily against him. "Yes."
"You sleep any?" He yawns, a big bear of a yawn, and she laughs as he smacks his lips before pressing his face into the curve of her neck.
"No," she concedes, feeling the rough pads of his fingers idly rubbing back and forth over her belly.
"'Snot good, hummin'bird," he mumbles against her neck. "Gotta sleep." He yawns again and tightens his arms around her.
"Ooh," River breathes, arching faintly against him.
She feels him coming more awake. "You like that, huh?" he murmurs drowsily, and drags his fingers lazily up her torso to tease the bottoms of her breasts. She quivers. "Yeah, you do."
"River shivers," she whimpers.
"Cuz you're cold or cuz I'm touchin' ya?"
"Both."
"Shiny."
His fingers spread open to cup her breasts, squeezing faintly, and River lets her eyes flutter shut as she pulls at her bottom lip with her teeth. "You shoulda woken me up, baby girl," Jayne murmurs near her ear. "Know I don't like you lyin' here awake like this. Not when I can put ya to bed."
"Mmmmm..." River lets her head turn as she opens her eyes, so that when both motions are complete she's gazing over her shoulder into his eyes. He's awake now, alert in a midnight kind of way. "Warmth should not be disturbed in the course of its duties."
"You wanna bet your ass?"
"Would prefer to bet yours." She wiggles her bottom against the crook of his hips, enjoying the way his muscles tighten at the action. "The girl likes her own where it is."
"So do I," Jayne growls, and now his hands aren't just squeezing her breasts; they're holding tight.
"He'll take her now," River murmurs, a smile flickering on her lips. When Jayne's hands get grabby it means he needs to be inside her; she doesn't have to read his mind to read the cues he broadcasts like smoke signals. The rest of the crew have learned that lesson the hard way. Now when they see him playing with her hair in the common room or squeezing her hips in the cargo bay, they know to get out and fast.
"Yeah he will," Jayne grunts as he drags one hand away from her breast to yank at the hem of the t-shirt she wears, pulling it up past her hip. A low moan moves past her ear as his fingers glide over her bare skin. "Ta ma de, girl, you gotta wear panties to bed."
She grins at the desperate tone in his voice. "Why?"
"Cuz a pretty li'l thing like you'll be the death of an old man like me, you keep givin' me temptation like this night after night." He doesn't sound like he really minds, and River ignores the words in favor of the tone behind them, which is one of naked lust.
Opposites.
"She understands," she says with a nod. Then, "But she will not obey."
Jayne grins at her over her shoulder – a ferocious white band of teeth in the dark. "Damn straight you won't," he growls, and shoves at the waistband of his boxers. "I'm too damn old for you to start agreein' with me, 'specially on stuff like that."
"The man is not old."
"Yeah, nor stuff like that neither." He succeeds in kicking his boxers away – and most of the blankets with them – and turns his attention back to her. "Come on, baby doll." He hooks a hand around her thigh, carefully lifting her leg so it curls back over his. "Come on now..."
"Mmm..." she moans again, sliding her hand down his arm, craning her head further around so she can kiss his shoulder. Jayne is always so delicate when he touches her, unless she tells him to be hard. There's a fear there; he's afraid she thinks she's dreaming, and one day she'll realize she's actually awake, and when that day comes she'll send him packing like a penniless, drunken hobo. "Gonna love you always, my Jayne."
"Shh, bao bei," he mutters, his hands tugging her closer. River can feel hard heat against her thigh and it makes her shiver.
"Bao bei," she coos, repeating the endearment, then gasps as he edges into her. "Bao bei..."
Jayne moans by her ear. "My girl... my baby doll... ohhh yes..." His hands move off her breasts and dig into her ribcage as he holds her in a death grip and slowly eases his body into hers. "Mmmmmm.... Mine..."
She doesn't answer, because she can't. Always in these first few moments, as her body closes around him and holds him like a glove, every sense is switched on; like a house where every light has been left burning. She can feel everything; see everything. She can smell the boot black as Mal shines his shoes down the hall, heedless of the hour. Can taste strawberries on Kaylee's lips as Simon kisses the engineer, cozied up warm in their bed. When she told Jubal Early she'd melted to become part of the ship, she'd only meant it as a distraction. But when Jayne takes her – especially on nights when she can't watch his eyes – it becomes the truth. She comes apart at the seams, and the littlest crewmember becomes Serenity, as all-encompassing as the night sky itself.
More opposites.
She doesn't tell Jayne. She doesn't think he'd appreciate making love to the whole ship.
After a few seconds, when he's finally seated inside her and breathing raggedly against her neck, she feels her molecules come back together and finds herself panting in unison with him. "Warm," she gasps, because it's the first word her lips can form.
"Gorram yes," he grunts near her ear, and she can feel his lips against her jaw as his hands bunch the t-shirt up the rest of the way. "You're warmer'n wool gloves in July, baby doll."
River giggles breathlessly at the simile, and squeezes her leg around his rock-hard thigh as he tugs the shirt over her head and tosses it aside. "And he raised up his hands and parted the water," she purrs, rubbing the back of her head against his collarbone as she idly gives her hips a test roll, sucking in a breath at the feel of him solid within her.
"This ain't no time for bein' biblical, hummin'bird," Jayne moans, and his broad palm spans her pelvis, holding her still. "Ain't no room for it in this here bed with us."
"The road to Hell is paved with long nights in the Black," she concurs with a brief nod, then groans as she feels his fingers slide down her belly to press between her legs.
"Ain't goin' to Hell," he murmurs, stubble rough against her cheek, chin firm on her shoulder as he strokes her. "Not no more. You done saved my soul, baby girl."
He believes it, and the weight of his belief is like a living thing, writhing in her stomach. It makes her want to dance to the rhythm of his reverence. She settles for holding his wrist down low against her belly while craning her head around to find his mouth, her lips finding his easily despite the tumble of her hair between them. The kiss is like so many of their kisses that have come before; it makes River shake. It lights up the room with bolts of impossible electricity. She wonders if he can see the licks of firey blue light as they pour off the walls and funnel into her body, pooling around the bundle of nerves he ceaselessly rubs with his fingers.
He rolls them both forward, so River is crouched on her knees, her cheek pressed into the pillow. She gasps and arches her neck as he lays himself along her back, the hair on his chest rubbing between her shoulders and all down her spine to her tailbone. "Ohhhh, yes," he groans, and she feels his muscles shuddering with relief.
Relief?
She reads it in his body language because she doesn't need to read his mind. The girl hasn't drawn away yet; she hasn't woken to find this isn't a dream. She's not going to run from the room, crying rape and murder. Six months they've been together like this, yet the one man on this ship who doesn't give a good gorram what the universe thinks of him is still terrified of the opinion of one slip of a girl.
Opposites.
She would laugh and call him a silly duck if it didn't break her heart.
"Ta ma de, you got the sweetest hair, baby doll," he growls, burying his face in the tumbledown cascade and breathing deeply. "Like summer planetside."
She makes a mental note to give him a lock of it for his next birthday.
Then he starts to move, rocking his hips against her, and she forgets everything but him.
River had never been taught to hide her emotions. As a child she'd been dubbed "high-spirited," which was an upper crust way of saying temperamental. Her parents had indulged their little prodigy; the only one who'd ever taken the time to tell her she was being troublesome was Simon. Then she'd been sent to the Academy, and what little self-control she'd learned had been stripped away like varnish off an antique writing desk. Even if she wanted to she couldn't hide the reactions that float across her face like sunlight through a prism as Jayne moves inside her. He's told her time and again how much he loves to watch her; he says it gives his ego one hell of a boost.
"Jayne... Jayne, my Jayne...!" she moans into the pillow, not caring about volume because that's even harder to control than facial features. "Yes, please, please, PLEASE...!"
"Say my name, baby, say it," Jayne growls, voice laced with hunger and want. "Gorram, you know I love the way you say it..."
"Jayyyyne," River keens, arching her back to rub her shoulder blades against his chest and press the back of her head against his shoulder. He moves with her, planting his hands on the bed so he can bury his face in the crook of her neck and close his teeth over her pulse point. She tilts her head to the side to give him better access, her mouth open, spilling hungry syllables into the late night air. The chill in the room has been forgotten by everything but her nipples, which are tight and throbbing. Dropping forward again, she rubs her breasts against the rumpled sheets and imagines it's one of his t-shirts; imagines she has another Jayne underneath her, steadying her as her first Jayne pumps into her from behind. It's so tangible; so real. She can smell her dream!Jayne in the pillow, and she opens her mouth to kiss him; ends up biting down on a mouthful of cotton pillowcase instead, but doesn't care because at least it muffles her scream as she comes.
"OH, yes...!" Jayne chokes in her ear as her body clutches around him. "That's my girl... Ta ma de, that's my girl...!"
The world is spinning and her head is swirling as her body shakes and he's still moving inside her and the world is opposite, opposite, opposite. Front to back... upside down... face in the pillow, ass in the air... legs open, eyes closed... fingers fisted in the bedsheets, fingers twisted in her hair...
She comes again. And against all conceivable principles, it's stronger than the first.
"JAYYYYNE!" she screams, throwing back her head as her body breaks.
"RIVER! Jesus!" Jayne gasps, and his hands rise up from the mattress to hold her hips as he slams home and comes inside her, pulsing like a lighthouse; shards of light in the dark.
For a minute they just stay like that, gasping and sweaty, hot despite the cold room. For once Jayne is shaking more than River in the afterglow. "Guess you wanted that, huh?" he pants, his breath puffing through her damp hair.
River giggles as giddy spirals of electricity continue to flare throughout her body. "Yes."
With a groan he rolls them onto their sides again, and River gasps at the blast of cool air against her damp stomach. It only lasts a second, however, as Jayne is quick to pull the blankets up over them, cocooning in their remaining body heat. He tucks the covers close around her body, careful to ensure they're pulled up tight under her chin, just the way she likes them. River coos and presses her face into the Jayne-scented sheets, rubbing back against him as he settles into a comfortable position behind her and lets out a sigh of contentment. "You're gonna be the death of me, girl," he mutters, draping an arm around her waist and squeezing.
River shares a secret smile with the empty room, rubbing her small feet against his calves. "Love you, my Jayne," she murmurs, knowing he's already half-asleep.
"Mmm, love, yeah," he mumbles into her hair. "You, too."
The secret smile widens. "Sweet dreams," she whispers.
He doesn't answer, and she knows he's asleep.
She's grinning so much now she's afraid the light of her smile will wake him up again, so she ducks her head under the covers to hide. Jayne's arm is loose around her midsection, but she laces her fingers with his and draws it tighter. Giggling quietly, she closes her eyes to watch the last zigzags of electricity chase each other past her eyelids. Deeper, her body is still glowing with Jayne's light, though she knows bit by bit it will eventually fade.
Almost.
Deeper still, deeper than marrow, down where the palm of Jayne's hand has left a permanent tattooed sensation, one ember is glowing bright as a star. River wills her consciousness further down, like diving into a well, and brushes her mind over the light.
It glows brighter, and stays.
The universe loves continuity, and River's too smart to miss this pattern. On a night ruled by opposites, Serenity's resident killers have just made a life.
THE END