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| Entry tags: | drabble: firefly, firefly: river/jayne |
crystal ship (g)
She's fragile now, River is, not the beautiful crazy killing machine who takes down men in baker's dozens.
She could fit into his damn pocket if he untangled her from his lap, her limbs interlocking like pretzels and messy engine cables. Times like this he forgets how she's a weapon just like him, but more deceptive.
Her hair falls across her face, and he fell in love with the pyscho weapon warrior girl but he loves this one too.
"Don't go, Jayne," she whispers, clutching his shirt and damn strongly too. "Need your thoughts in my head."
So he stays.