Work Text:
Mal wakes to screaming. He’s not certain what he expects to find, but it’s not a contrite River tending to a bleeding Jayne.
Jayne hisses and grumbles as River stitches his split lip, but there’s no heat in it. Instead his hand curls low on her hip, all possessive like. Mal eyes it, all speculative like.
Head turning, River meets Mal’s eyes where he stands in the shadows, and gives a small shake of her head, hand rising to cup Jayne’s face, who leans into the touch.
Mal swallows down the instinctive anger, turning away. Better to sleep on it.