A/N - I'd like to apologize in advance for "fine white spray". Lord, I am so disgusting.

Also, this is my first Firefly fic in the history of the ever ever. Be gentle.


When Jayne comes back from the job, his feet are red from the walking and his nose is red from the cold. He shivers, warming up all pins and needles, in the infirmary.

"God, I, I didn't know…," Simon drapes another blanket over Jayne, handling his words as if he's afraid they'll break.

"'S not your fault," Jayne rasps, and he's slurring a little because his face is still defrosting. "'S just…" but his mouth falls slack and his eyes squeeze shut. Something is happening, and before Simon can react, Jayne sneezes, loud and harsh and into the open air instead of his hands. Simon flinches, just a little, at the noise and the fine white spray, and then he settles his feathers and finds a sterile white handkerchief.

Jayne thanks him grudgingly and tries to rip the cloth out of its silvery sealed-for-your-protection packaging, but his fingers are too numb and slow. "Gorram it," he growls under his breath, watching his fingers bump and slide ineffectually against the material. "You got anything to stop this?" but he only gets as far as "anything" before Simon quietly takes the package and rips it open along one seam with clean fingernails.

"Here." He holds the handkerchief out, and it looks slightly blue in the infirmary's light. "Damn silly," Jayne mutters, reaching for the cloth. But before his fingers can get there, Simon takes them in his own shaking hands, and he brings them to his mouth. Eyelashes black on his white cheeks, Simon opens his lips and breathes on Jayne's cold fingers. Two long breaths, wonderfully hot and full of condensation that Jayne can feel in dampness on his skin. Then Simon realizes what he's doing, and it shows in his eyes, clear and afraid. He doesn't drop Jayne's hand, though, just lowers it to a more respectable height and stares at Jayne like a man waiting to be hit in the teeth. Which he is.

"I'm sorry." Simon's words are halting. He's dropped the handkerchief. "Sorry, I didn't—"

"It's all right," Jayne drawls, pushing his half-warmed hand back up. "Keep on."