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Untitled Firefly
Mary Kroll
Some things is most peculiar
To say the three men were drunk would be to grossly understate their condition, as it would damn their libidos with faint praise. Malcolm Reynolds, Jayne Cobb and Simon Tam staggered and listed happily through the lanes and alleys that would lead them from the pub to the port. There was lattitude for such indulgent imbibing, as they were in friendly territory and their pockets were well lined, or at least had been before they ventured into the city in search of recreation. There had been grilled meat, cold dark beer, strong shots, and curvaceous bodacious dancing girls to entice them. Woe betide the trio, though, that the planet they were standing on voraciously enforced its prohibition on prostitution. As they walked beneath Serenity's arcing neck, Jayne accidentally bumped into Simon and used both hands to steady himself, for the fourth time.
"Hey, watch it," was the most articulate retort Simon could muster.
"Don't be fresh," Mal punctuated the admonition with a slap to Jayne's rear.
"You're the one touchin' my ass." Jayne leaned heavily against a bulkhead as Mal scrutinized the cargo bay door control panel, searching for the button he could normally find blind. Jayne snatching Simon's wrist as the doctor attempted to pass him. It took only an instant for Simon to be trapped by Jayne's brawny arms and his mouth subjected to an empassioned, if soggy, kiss.
"Jayne!" Mal peeled Jayne's arms from Simon, though to his surprise Simon made no overt effort to escape. "Simon, you do want saving, don't you?"
"No, he don't," the hog-grinning mercenary interupted, "Simon's comin' with me."
Mal rolled his eyes, "go jerk off."
"You go jerk off, I wanna get me a blowjob."
"Well that ain't like to happen."
"Okay, I'll rochambeau you for him."
Reflexively, both of Mal's hands moved to shield his groin. "Dowhatnow?"
"Rock, Paper, Scissors. Why, what did you think I meant?"
"The other kind of rochambeau, the kind where one fella kicks the other in the stones as hard as he can, then the second fella does the first fella, and they go back and forth until one of 'em loses."
"Now how are you supposed to enjoy a blowjob if you've had your eggs scrambled?"
"See that's why I covered up...."
Simon only shook his head at the inane conversation as it faded. He slid open the door to his berth with as much stealth as a drunk man can muster, locked it behind himself, haphazardly washed his face and flopped unceromoniously onto his bed. The darkness of sedation enveloped him with the soundtrack of "one, two, three, shoot!"
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