Title: Morning Has Broken
Length: 295 words
Summary: Written for the prompt Simon gets used to life on board Serenity. “How can you even tell it’s morning?”
Simon awakes with a start when something lands on his stomach. He flails his hands in the air and struggles unsuccessfully to sit up, gasping for breath.
River giggles. She’s not that heavy really, it’s just the shock of it. He manages to untangle his arms enough from the covers to reach out and tickle her, but River grabs his wrists and leans over him, her hair falling forward to frame her face and brush his own cheeks, her hair cutting the pair of them off from the rest of the world.
He smiles up at her and mutters sleepily, “Not fair.”
“Objects can’t judge,” says River, “and tickling is a distraction.”
The happiness slides of Simon’s face as he re-orientates himself, remembering where they are and what River is now, remembering that this isn’t just waking up on a lazy day off at home, and the worst thing is that he can see it reflected in River’s face as her glee fades in reaction to his fleeing smile.
She releases his wrists, sits up, and gets off of his bed.
“Morning has broken. Fast has to be broken too. Time to rise and try to shine.”
“I think we’re allowed a lie-in after a fun filled evening of almost being burnt to death at the stake.” Simon props himself up on his elbows and tries to smile at her again. “It’s alright, mèi mèi.”
“Belonging was claimed,” she informs him. “Said we were Crew and Crew are eating breakfast.”
“Fine.” Simon lets his head drop back down onto his pillow as River leaves. “How can you even tell it’s morning? We’re in space.”
River’s head leans around the edge of the door and she frowns at him.
“Wake up and smell the coffee.”
Length: 720 words
Summary: Waking up together. Not what you think.
Simon tries to open his eyes, but everything is blurry and his eyelids are far too heavy, so he closes them again. He’s lying on his side, almost curled up, and he can feel Jayne’s arm beneath his head, the hairs tickling his ear. He rubs against it a little and takes a deep breath, inhaling the comforting smell of gun oil, cotton, and sweat.
Jayne groans and his leg brushes against Simon’s knee as he stretches out.
“Tzao-goa,” he says. “That is one hell of a hangover.”
Simon murmurs his agreement. He’s glad that Jayne knows what’s going on, because his brain is too hazy to make sense of anything just now, except that if this is a hangover then it must have been caused by sake. He loves it, but the morning after is rarely anything but painful. Rather like sex with Jayne actually.
He smirks, turning his head slightly to bury the expression in the crook of Jayne’s elbow. The motion makes his head pound, but Jayne makes a pleased sound at the back of his throat, so Simon licks his lips and presses them more deliberately against the soft skin.
Jayne touches his leg to Simon’s again in acknowledgement and then swings his leg over both of Simon’s, pinning him down. It’s Simon’s turn to make a noise, but one of displeasure as something digs painfully into his hip.
“Tell me you didn’t come to bed armed,” he mutters, lifting his head out of Jayne’s elbow, so that he’ll be heard, and pillowing it on Jayne’s upper arm instead.
Jayne’s other arm moves across and fumbles between them, shoves between the gun and Simon’s hip.
He shifts his leg further over Simon’s, almost wrapping himself around the other man, so that the gun is no longer hurting Simon and Jayne’s knee is snug against Simon’s arse.
“And fully dressed, with shoes and everything,” says Wash cheerfully, “and no sheets and, my god, perhaps you’re not even in a bed at all.”
Simon forces his eyes open in horror and blinks rapidly as the world swims into focus.
They seem to be in some kind of empty storeroom or dressing room, all metal walls with a low metal mesh shelf or bench running around the edges and hooks on the walls. Kaylee is sitting on one, leaning against the wall and looking more than happy with their performance. She gives him a small wave and mouths ‘we got gassed’.
Zoe is sat further along with her feet firmly planted on the floor a shoulder width apart and Wash is on the floor between her legs, leaning back against the bench and saying, “I mean the lack of pillows and bedding was surely a hint, or are those kinds of items not to be found in Jayne’s bunk?”
Mal is standing with his arms folded; near enough that Simon can see him over Jayne’s shoulder. He looks like he’d quite happily kick them both, but that if he moved he’d fall over.
Simon’s just grateful that River isn’t here to comment, or the Shepherd here to see since he’s minding River. Inara would have the grace not to treat this as anything out of the ordinary, but she has her own business to attend to whilst the rest of them are trying to scratch a living the less than legal way.
Of course he’s glad that all three of them don’t have to suffer through what, he remembers, is another plan of Mal’s, which seems once again to have failed. Now that Kaylee has pointed it out he notices the lingering aftertaste the of a popular knockout gas in his dry mouth. It would have been nice if their inside contact had mentioned that particularly obstacle.
“Do you think they always do it with their eyes shut?” says Wash. “I suppose in Simon’s case otherwise he’d have to look at Jayne…”
Simon feels himself blushing, his face burning and the heat spreading down his neck. A broad palm cups his cheek and Simon focuses on the face closest to his. Jayne looks uncertain and, as heavy as his eyelids still feel, Simon knows he can’t close his eyes to that.
“Actually,” he says, his voice rasping, “they tend to stay open until I black out.”