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bookaddict43Title: Threads
Author: Bookaddict
Characters: Jayne/Kaylee, OC
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Firelfy and all it's characters are the property of Joss Whedon.
Warning: Character death
Comments: Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ladytalon1 for her help in choosing a title! I'm so hopeless at that. This fic derived from a writing exercise I did for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
ff_workshop. x-posted to jaylee_ship and my journal.
Kaylee smiled and lifted the coat of the rack. She’d always teased him about that coat, how ugly it was, how green, how old.
The first time he’d leant it to her it hadn’t meant nothin’. She’d been sad, cold and knew he let other girls wear it. Even then it had been oddly comfortin’.
The next time he settled it round her shoulders they were closer, and this time Kaylee knew it was her he was protectin’. That time she’d stuck her hands in the pockets and found a myriad of objects. Strips of leather, protein bars, the hat his mother sent and a grenade were just a few of the things.
The coat big on him, hung to her knees and she had to roll the sleeves so many times just for her hands to show, but it smelled comfortingly like him. A mixture of soap, whiskey and gun oil – it was Jayne.
She’d taken a bite out of one of the protein bars and laughed at him about the smell, the objects and the ugliness.
“’Twas my Pa’s,” he’d said and never said anythin’ else; he hadn’t had to really; she understood his love for familiar things.
Over the years she’d worn the ugly thing plenty of times and had also mended bullet holes, frayed sleeves, torn pockets, ripped seams and broken zips.
Sometimes her mends joined older ones. Some of them were his, she recognised the impatient stitches. Some of them were much older, done with quality thread, strong and endurin’. There was so much history in that coat, it choked her up.
They’d made their own history with the coat too. Kaylee grinned, remembering. It’d been pillow, robe, carrier bag and blanket. The last time Jayne wrapped the coat around her they’d joked about whether it would cover her bump or not. Of course it did and her man had been, though he tried to hide it, all manner of proud that he was lookin’ after them both.
He left her not long after that, torn away when they least expected it and she kept the coat still.
Revealin’ in the comfort of it, she wore the coat when things got bad, when her smile slipped, when she got so lonely for him she could cry. Although the comforting smell was long since gone, vanished with washin’ and the years, he was closer when she wore it; and sometimes when she was missin’ him, she would curl up on their bed with it on and dream of what might have been.
But time was movin’ on, Kaylee smoothed her hand over the coat sleeve, and she had another man needing a good coat now. She smiled; she didn’t think her boy a man yet, probably never would. But he thought he was. Stubborn as his Pa, he was always tryin’ to protect her; do the manly thing.
“You sure ‘bout this Mama?” her big son looked at her with Jayne’s watchful eyes as she turned, coat in her arms.
Kaylee nodded gently and guided his arms into the sleeves. “Yer big enough now.”
Author: Bookaddict
Characters: Jayne/Kaylee, OC
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Firelfy and all it's characters are the property of Joss Whedon.
Warning: Character death
Comments: Thanks to
ladytalon1 for her help in choosing a title! I'm so hopeless at that. This fic derived from a writing exercise I did for ff_workshop. x-posted to jaylee_ship and my journal.
Kaylee smiled and lifted the coat of the rack. She’d always teased him about that coat, how ugly it was, how green, how old.
The first time he’d leant it to her it hadn’t meant nothin’. She’d been sad, cold and knew he let other girls wear it. Even then it had been oddly comfortin’.
The next time he settled it round her shoulders they were closer, and this time Kaylee knew it was her he was protectin’. That time she’d stuck her hands in the pockets and found a myriad of objects. Strips of leather, protein bars, the hat his mother sent and a grenade were just a few of the things.
The coat big on him, hung to her knees and she had to roll the sleeves so many times just for her hands to show, but it smelled comfortingly like him. A mixture of soap, whiskey and gun oil – it was Jayne.
She’d taken a bite out of one of the protein bars and laughed at him about the smell, the objects and the ugliness.
“’Twas my Pa’s,” he’d said and never said anythin’ else; he hadn’t had to really; she understood his love for familiar things.
Over the years she’d worn the ugly thing plenty of times and had also mended bullet holes, frayed sleeves, torn pockets, ripped seams and broken zips.
Sometimes her mends joined older ones. Some of them were his, she recognised the impatient stitches. Some of them were much older, done with quality thread, strong and endurin’. There was so much history in that coat, it choked her up.
They’d made their own history with the coat too. Kaylee grinned, remembering. It’d been pillow, robe, carrier bag and blanket. The last time Jayne wrapped the coat around her they’d joked about whether it would cover her bump or not. Of course it did and her man had been, though he tried to hide it, all manner of proud that he was lookin’ after them both.
He left her not long after that, torn away when they least expected it and she kept the coat still.
Revealin’ in the comfort of it, she wore the coat when things got bad, when her smile slipped, when she got so lonely for him she could cry. Although the comforting smell was long since gone, vanished with washin’ and the years, he was closer when she wore it; and sometimes when she was missin’ him, she would curl up on their bed with it on and dream of what might have been.
But time was movin’ on, Kaylee smoothed her hand over the coat sleeve, and she had another man needing a good coat now. She smiled; she didn’t think her boy a man yet, probably never would. But he thought he was. Stubborn as his Pa, he was always tryin’ to protect her; do the manly thing.
“You sure ‘bout this Mama?” her big son looked at her with Jayne’s watchful eyes as she turned, coat in her arms.
Kaylee nodded gently and guided his arms into the sleeves. “Yer big enough now.”
