I awake suddenly. It's a good and bad thing my bunk is next to the infirmary. I can react quickly (a skill honed by months of residency) to an emergency, but often (too often) my sleep is interrupted by the clatter of a lumbering man-ox disarranging my supplies. It happens enough that I'm sure it's not a coincidence.
I crash into the room. It's Jayne, of course. He's holding his right hand up while he rummages through cabinets with his left, searching for god knows what.
"Hey, doc," he grins insolently.
"What are you doing in here this time?" I sigh, with resigned exasperation.
"Got myself a splinter, " he mutters, as he returns to his search.
"The tweezers are over here," I groan. They are on the tray in front of me, in full sight of the door. The mess he's made this time will take at least a half-hour to repair. How he could make such a mess in a few moments, I'll never know. Nor would I want to.
"Huh," he grunts. Sauntering around the room, he knocks over another tray of tools. More work for me, I wince. "Sorry `bout that, doc." He sidles past me, just a hair too close than necessary. As I startle in reaction to his apology, his eyes rake over me. "Nice jammies. You always sleep in the altogether?"
Instinctively, I cover myself, and just as I realize that I'm still wearing my pants, Jayne chortles, happy to have gotten me yet again. As he reaches for the tweezers, a retort comes to me, and I grab the tool before he does.
"Here, let me." I manage to sound a bit less exasperated than I feel. "With your incompetence, you'll end up dead from blood poisoning, and then who would cart the heavy packages?" That sounded lame, even to me.
"Reckon the captain would hire hisself a new man."
"When was the last time you washed your hands? Gaisi, you would have killed yourself!" I find the splinter, and swab the area, not very gently.
"Gorram!" Jayne pulls his hand away. I grab it back.
"It's just alcohol. Don't be a baby." As I push the splinter out, and grab hold of the tweezers, I get momentarily distracted by the scent of his body. For a dirty looking man, he smells surprisingly pleasant, a mixture of sweat and gunpowder, with a bit of tobacco thrown in.
I start again, in reaction to his mouth breathing in my ear. "You got some soft hands, doc." In retaliation, I yank the splinter out too forcefully, and am rewarded by a wince.
"Keep it clean. It's a small area, but if it gets infected..." I pause, ominously.
He chortles again, in amusement. "Gotcha, doc. I'd just haveta spend some time in here with you, then?"
"Get out of my infirmary. I've got work to do." As he leaves, his left hand brushes my hip, almost as if by accident.
"Sure thing, doc. See ya' around," he says, ambling out the door, and down the hall. I stand for a moment, surveying the damage, considering my options. Jayne's flirting, while never subtle, has become a bit more obvious these past few days. "Something's going to give soon," I mutter. It might be easier, though, if I make the first move. It would certainly keep Jayne on his toes. Next time, maybe I will sleep in the nude. . .