April Showers Drabblethon Prompt 28
Title: Every Season
Author: pukajen
Prompt: Prompt 28
Fandom: Farscape
Character(s)/Pairing(s): John/Aeryn
Genre: None
Rating & Warnings: G
Word Count: 692
Summary: Not having seasons was one of the things that never occurred to him about living on a ship.
Seasons were always something John took for granted. Even when his father had been stationed in San Diego, there were seasons. Not as distinct as a lot of the other places John had lived, but still the delineations between winter, spring, summer, and winter existed. Even if it was more of an artificially celebrated ideal than an actual change in weather and temperature, there was always something that signaled the end of one season and the start of another.
Not having seasons was something that never occurred to him about living on a ship. Rationally, he knew there weren’t season in space, never mind what chose to fly through it, but not having seasons wasn’t ever a salient thought.
With the decision to stay on Moya, one of the first things John forced himself to do was give up figuring when it was back in the States. No more marking seasons, counting off months, or missed birthdays and Christmases.
Picking up his journal from the nightstand, John flipped to a blank page. Feeling slightly ridiculous, he started to sketch a crocus. It took three attempts before it came out right. Next was a lump of snow with a hat, scarf, and two branches sticking out at odd angles, a tulip, then a tree branch with tightly budded leaves.
He missed spring; every one was different, filled with life and color, and feeling of renewal. It didn’t matter how small the difference was between the end of winter and start of spring, everywhere seemed to take a deep breath and start fresh.
It was part of an ingrained cycle that never changed, but was always different.
If he wanted to, John figured he could convert a section on Moya to be something like a greenhouse - it wasn’t the worst idea in the universe given how low on food they ran - but it would be an artificial construct lacking the charm of shifting seasons. Spring would lose some of its wonder if he knew all the variables because he was the one whom controlled them.
“D’argo has finally fallen asleep, but it’s your turn to change him.” Aeryn said, sliding a hand over his shoulder and looping it over his chest.
“I still say, you should let me rig one of the DRDs to do that.” He tilted his head back for a quick kiss.
“Our son is not going to be tended to by DRDs,” her words were firm, but a smile played over her lips. It was a running joke between them ever since Pilot’s earnestly offered to help with D’argo.
Turning slightly on the bed, John tugged his wife into his lap.
“How you doing, baby?” He wrapped his arms around her. For the last couple of nights, D’argo had been fussy as he was cutting his first tooth.
“You know, I went the whole way through Peacekeeper training without ever feeling this tired. Your son is wearing me out.”
“Why is he mine when there’s trouble?” John asked, nipping her earlobe.
“Are you serious?” Aeryn asked incredulously. “You’ve caused more chaos than a battalion of new recruits on their first leave.” She nip him back. “And that’s just in the last nine solar days.”
“That wasn’t my fault!” How was he to know that buying a drink for their guide was an insult to her whole clan?
Before she could refute his statement, she yawned. Taking a long look at her, John could see the exhaustion in a dozen small ways, not the least of which was her pallor and the dark circles under her eyes. Not that he was in much better shape.
“Wanna take a nap?” He nuzzled her neck taking in the familiar clean scent that was solely hers.
Aeryn just hummed her agreement. Abandoning his sketches, John slid down until they were both stretched out on their bed.
“Tell me something,” Aeryn murmured as she settled her head on his shoulder.
It too was an old game between them; a way of asking about their past lives without pushing too deeply on sore spots.
“We have seasons on Earth,” John started, pulling her closer to him.
Author: pukajen
Prompt: Prompt 28
Fandom: Farscape
Character(s)/Pairing(s): John/Aeryn
Genre: None
Rating & Warnings: G
Word Count: 692
Summary: Not having seasons was one of the things that never occurred to him about living on a ship.
Seasons were always something John took for granted. Even when his father had been stationed in San Diego, there were seasons. Not as distinct as a lot of the other places John had lived, but still the delineations between winter, spring, summer, and winter existed. Even if it was more of an artificially celebrated ideal than an actual change in weather and temperature, there was always something that signaled the end of one season and the start of another.
Not having seasons was something that never occurred to him about living on a ship. Rationally, he knew there weren’t season in space, never mind what chose to fly through it, but not having seasons wasn’t ever a salient thought.
With the decision to stay on Moya, one of the first things John forced himself to do was give up figuring when it was back in the States. No more marking seasons, counting off months, or missed birthdays and Christmases.
Picking up his journal from the nightstand, John flipped to a blank page. Feeling slightly ridiculous, he started to sketch a crocus. It took three attempts before it came out right. Next was a lump of snow with a hat, scarf, and two branches sticking out at odd angles, a tulip, then a tree branch with tightly budded leaves.
He missed spring; every one was different, filled with life and color, and feeling of renewal. It didn’t matter how small the difference was between the end of winter and start of spring, everywhere seemed to take a deep breath and start fresh.
It was part of an ingrained cycle that never changed, but was always different.
If he wanted to, John figured he could convert a section on Moya to be something like a greenhouse - it wasn’t the worst idea in the universe given how low on food they ran - but it would be an artificial construct lacking the charm of shifting seasons. Spring would lose some of its wonder if he knew all the variables because he was the one whom controlled them.
“D’argo has finally fallen asleep, but it’s your turn to change him.” Aeryn said, sliding a hand over his shoulder and looping it over his chest.
“I still say, you should let me rig one of the DRDs to do that.” He tilted his head back for a quick kiss.
“Our son is not going to be tended to by DRDs,” her words were firm, but a smile played over her lips. It was a running joke between them ever since Pilot’s earnestly offered to help with D’argo.
Turning slightly on the bed, John tugged his wife into his lap.
“How you doing, baby?” He wrapped his arms around her. For the last couple of nights, D’argo had been fussy as he was cutting his first tooth.
“You know, I went the whole way through Peacekeeper training without ever feeling this tired. Your son is wearing me out.”
“Why is he mine when there’s trouble?” John asked, nipping her earlobe.
“Are you serious?” Aeryn asked incredulously. “You’ve caused more chaos than a battalion of new recruits on their first leave.” She nip him back. “And that’s just in the last nine solar days.”
“That wasn’t my fault!” How was he to know that buying a drink for their guide was an insult to her whole clan?
Before she could refute his statement, she yawned. Taking a long look at her, John could see the exhaustion in a dozen small ways, not the least of which was her pallor and the dark circles under her eyes. Not that he was in much better shape.
“Wanna take a nap?” He nuzzled her neck taking in the familiar clean scent that was solely hers.
Aeryn just hummed her agreement. Abandoning his sketches, John slid down until they were both stretched out on their bed.
“Tell me something,” Aeryn murmured as she settled her head on his shoulder.
It too was an old game between them; a way of asking about their past lives without pushing too deeply on sore spots.
“We have seasons on Earth,” John started, pulling her closer to him.