Riding 101
Title: Riding 101
Characters/ Pairing: Wash/Taylor, Mini-BAMF(s), Jim
Genre: Romance, Family, Absurdly Gratuitous Fluff, Crack/Humor
Word Count: 3,021
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Summary: Wash cannot understand the true majesty of his goal. He is going to ride that dinosaur.
A/N: This is crack. Really, really, fluffy crack that should in no way be taken seriously. If you smile, it did it's job. Also, features zapf_chancery's mini-bamf Jaime. And my mini-bamf Sam. Oh yes. There are mini bamflings and dinosaurs. It's gonna be sugary. I apologize.
Riding 101
They are currently standing on the edge of a small cliff, peering over the side at the pterosaurs ( Quetzalcoatlus, Malcolm had informed them proudly before they left the colony) resting not far beneath. The great winged creatures are strolling idly about, entirely at peace in their natural habitat. It would be a sight Wash would traditionally enjoy, find solace in, in a more traditional situation. But her Commander’s recent words have her inwardly rolling her eyes, unable to justify the childish expression playing across the older man’s features with the stoic figure in her head; the man who had been present not half an hour previous.
It’s almost impossible to compare the two men. Those blue eyes are sparkling with undeniable mischief in the midday sun, as he leans closer to the edge. As if she didn’t hear him the first time (oh, she most certainly had), he repeats himself, entirely too gleeful.
“Gonna ride it, Wash.”
The woman just shakes her head, crosses her arms over her chest. Despite her apparent disapproval (and irritation), Taylor continues on. She doesn’t understand; that’s the problem. Wash cannot, in that head of hers, comprehend the true majesty of his goal.
He is going to ride that goddamn dinosaur.
The bird in question (he has nicknamed him Quince), is an ugly bastard, perhaps the size of a giraffe. The long necked thing stares at him with beady eyes, cocking it’s oversized head to the side. It seems wildly confused by his presence, as if unable to understand why this tiny man creature is approaching him. He imagines if the thing had eyebrows it would be arching them. It lets out a loud squawk, tapping the ground with its beak. The Commander can only assume this is a sign of aggression, a prehistoric invitation to prove the quality of his worth.
His wife sees it as a sign of his rapidly fraying grasp on reality, “You’re insane, sir.”
“You’re just jealous, Wash.”
“Mmm-hmm,” his Lieutenant hums to herself, shifting to lean against a nearby tree as he stalks ever closer, “I’m sure I’ll be jealous when you fall and break your neck.”
“Not going to fall; the bastard has it coming to him.”
Wash rolls her eyes, metaphorically cleaning her hands of this. There is no talking Nathaniel out of an idea once he sets his mind on it and it’s fairly clear that he is hell bent on this. It’s not something she can even pretend to understand but she isn’t going to waste the energy it will take to dissuade him. She sighs again, shaking her head, hair tickling across her shoulders as she mentally braces herself, prepared to fetch her medkit when this inevitably spirals. The man offers her an entirely too confident smile as he stalks forward, glorious victory in reflecting in his eyes, his success foreordained.
He will triumph over this beast. There is no alternative.
Quince remains precisely where he is (none too bright), squawks again. He is most displeased by this small human creeping towards him. It never occurs that he should move (that would be absurd). With a wide grin on his face Taylor braces himself, coming to the edge of the small cliff face. If he leaps precisely right, he will land on the things back. If he misses...
Well, Wash is there to stitch him up.
Mustering his courage, he throws himself off the ledge, eyes closing as he plummets towards the earth. Rather than crashing to the ground however, he feels the smooth skin of the beast beneath him, dotted with coarse hair. Quick as a flash, he wraps his arms around the things neck, hooking them tightly together to prevent himself from being dislodged.
There is a very long moment where nothing happens. The dinosaur goes absolutely tense, opens its beak before closing it, opens its beak again. It cocks it head to the side in confusion, turning to regard the tiny man thing now on its back. Only then do its eyes widen in something like horror; it lets out a sound of absolute outrage at being degraded in such a way, takes an irritated step forward. In its head, this should be enough to dissuade the tiny thing. When the man thing does not let go it only serves to further its confusion.
Taylor watches as the wheels visibly turn in the things head, attempting to work out precisely what has happened. He can hear Wash’s laughter floating towards them. The great winged creature is not overly bright but it lets out an offended squawk, holds its elegant head high. It most certainly does not appreciate being mocked in such a manner. As if to prove itself, the thing opens its wings, stretches them to their full, impressive, width. And with a telling snort the thing rushes forward, taking the Commander with it.
Wash will admit that her eyes widen in surprise; the moment she hears Nathaniel’s laughter drifting back to her, however, it’s replaced with a more pressing irritation.
The man is insane. And his success here is most certainly not going to help matters any.
______________
“I told you I’d ride it, Wash.”
“You did, sir.”
“Shouldn’t you be saying something?”
“Oh, you don’t want me to say what I’m thinking, sir.”
The man chuckles at that, leaning over to loop an arm around her waist. Despite her supposed irritation with him, she leans into the touch, wrapping an answering arm about him. She offers him an amused smirk, reaches up to brush stray bits of debris from his hair (his landing had been less than perfect). He catches her hand, presses his lips to the inside of her wrist, chuckling against the delicate skin. In that moment, he knows that she will not resist if he leans in to kiss her...
The great bird squawks in protest from behind them. Nathaniel continues to move towards her, intent on closing the small amount of distance between them. He can almost make it; he can dissuade her....
But Wash leans back, turning slightly to glare at their new companion. The thing preens under her attention, puffing out its chest, “Remind me again why this thing is following us?”
“Think I might have uh...earned its respect or something,” he tries to sound indifferent about this, scholarly almost, but it’s impossible to keep the note of pride from coloring his tone. Whether he will admit to it or not, he is absolutely pleased with this development and can’t keep from beaming at the creature behind him. The thing makes a gurgling sort of sound of pleasure, shifting from one foot to the other. It’s an absurd motion on a creature of that size.
“So it’s always going to follow you?”
“Looks like it.”
She raises a dark brow, indicating the gate not far off from them, “And where are you going to keep your new friend?”
“He can stay on the outskirts of the colony safely enough,” if they’re being perfectly honest, this is likely not true. It seems to respect him well enough, seems to recognize that Wash is its master’s mate and is not the correct target to trifle with, but he could be dangerous to small children. Hell, the thing is likely just as dangerous to adults. Still, after all the trouble he went through with the thing...it seems like a waste to turn him loose so easily.
Wash seems to realize what he’s thinking. With an amused toss of her head she leans in to press a quick kiss to his jawline, “If you promise to feed him,” her tone is laced with teasing thick enough that he could cut it with a knife, “I’m sure you can keep him, sir.”
Quince seems to squawk in agreement.
__________________
The next morning, Taylor emerges from the colony half expecting the dinosaur to have made his escape. It would make perfect sense. But contrary to reason or nature, he finds the thing precisely where he left him. It cocks its head to the side, beady eyes focusing on him. Then it lets out a pleased purring sort of sound. It lifts its great head, reaches behind it. It plucks a small, unfortunate, creature from behind it. The oviraptor lets out a pitiful squeal as it is suddenly airborne. His friend deposits this in front of him, spearing it helpfully with its beak before nudging it towards him.
He can appreciate the gesture if not the implication that he should be eating that thing. When he does not act, it just lifts its wings, swallows the gift in a smooth gulp.
It’s much the same for the next few weeks. Every morning he expects the thing to have taken off in the night. And every morning, he’s still there waiting. There are certainly worse thing than having a giant, flying, pet dinosaur. When he walks by the things impromptu den, it hops up, following him. Its legs are not designed for extending jaunts of walking but it tries its damndest. And while it’s still rather averse to physical to contact, it will permit him to rest a hand on its long beak, offering a pat of praise. By the end of the month, it is accustomed enough to his presence, the touch of humans, to permit him sit on its back.
It’s two months before Quince (he’s Quince now, Taylor decides with some finality; the name fits him better than ‘it’) takes him for a short flight. He thrown from his seat at least twice and walks away from the experience with a few bruised ribs and a sprained wrist (Wash’s look of outrage when he informs her how he acquired these new injuries is worth any of the pain he’s in).
It’s equaled only by her look of simmering disapproval when he offers to take their sons to see his new pet. At eleven and eight both boys are absolutely enamored with the idea, stare at her with their big eyes (blue and soulful brown) until her veneer of stoicism is chipped away to nothingness. It still isn’t enough to make her unclench her jaw as they leave the colony.
Quince squawks happily as they approach, stretching from his afternoon nap in the sunlight. There are times when Taylor is convinced that the only reason he’s managed to tame the thing is because it had been a particularly lazy (potentially stupid) member of its species. Both Sam and Jaime press closer to their father’s legs as they come closer.
The dinosaur lowers its head to the same level of the children, fixes them with a beady eyes. Over the last few months it has become accustomed to the tiny man things but these are particularly tiny. It’s entirely likely that they would not even make a good meal.
He grumbles in disinterest before settling back down to nap, extends his wings to better absorb the sun.
Nathaniel offers his sons a comforting smile, “Go on. You wanted to see him.”
Neither of them move for a long moment. Sam acts first, visibly screwing up his courage before walking forward, hand extended towards the thing. It doesn’t move aside, huffs as it cracks an eye open to observe him. The boy’s hand makes contact with its skin (that odd amalgamation of scales and fur); Sam lets out a pleased squeak (only then do his parent’s hands drop from the weapons their hands have instinctively moved towards). Assured of his safety, Jaime quickly moves in to join his brother.
“Your bird’s a diva,” Wash mutters from beside him, her fingers entwining with his as she moves to stand at his side. There’s no note of displeasure in her tone now, however. Only a look of warmth, affection, as she takes in her sons absolutely pure joy.
He simply nods, watches as the dinosaur attempts to feign disinterest while he preens beneath the children's attentions.
______________
“You’re going to want to hold on, Wash.”
“Because traditionally I would let go?”
He shakes his head in amusement at the sharpness of her tone. Fearless as she is, the Lieutenant is still rather leery about willingly entrusting her life to this creature. Especially if it involves heights of any sort. Taylor gives her thigh an affectionate pat, “You’re going to do fine.”
Wash does not look half as convinced. There’s a snicker from behind him and, for a moment, he’s halfway convinced that the woman intends to climb down from her seat and punch the colony’s Sheriff in the face. Jim has chosen to accompany them on this particular outing (no ulterior motives, he promises, just wants to see the bird; nothing about Wash riding for the first time). With a shake of her head and a deep breath, she squeezes with her thighs.
And if the creature could smirk, Nathaniel would swear it did so. The thing and Wash have never been on particularly affectionate terms and that is rather clearly evident now. Quince takes off with a bit more vigor than strictly required, winging high into the air. The woman flings her arms around its neck, holding on for her dear life.
It leaves Taylor staring in something like terror. Not for his wife’s safety ( she’s lived through far worse and this is hardly going to threaten her), not for Quince’s safety. Shannon summarizes it perfectly when he says, rather absently, as if he’s almost pitying the other man’s fate, “She’s going to kill you when she gets down, you know that?”
Yes. He is entirely too aware of that.
She doesn’t kill him. In fact, the woman is wearing a smile, an actual smile, more than the small quirk of her lips she traditionally exhibits, when she lands, gives the dinosaur an affectionate pat as she dismounts.
And the next day, when she arrives with a fresh treat, one she’d hunted down herself, he doesn’t wonder if he’s been replaced as the things favorite human. For the second time, he’s left smiling, watches as she brushes a hand over the creatures head.
_______________
It’s more than a year when he arrives and finds the great bird has taken flight. And while it shouldn’t surprise him, he has to admit that he feels something akin to sadness at the sight, emptiness where the creature had formed an improvised nest. Bits of foliage and bones picked meticulously clean marking where he had established himself.
It’s foolish and entirely too sentimental (he had been a goddamn dinosaur, not a pet) but that odd sort of loss won’t be repressed. When he informs Jaime and Sam of their “friend’s” (shouldn’t have let them get attached; that had been a mistake) absence they stare at him in wide eyed confusion. His elder son adopts a look of sadness, offers him a wan sort of smile; his younger, more stubborn, stands in frustrated denial, unwilling to believe such a thing. Both ask him to check back again the next morning.
For his sons, he returns the day after and the day after that, halfway expecting him to return (even if he knows better; somehow there’s still that almost childish sort of hope). But the day after and the day after that there is no sign of the pterosaur. He stops hoping; Sam stops hoping and, eventually, even Jaime is willing to surrender to reality.
It had been a dinosaur, not a pet; there’s no reason for these feelings.
Three months pass with nothing. Life returns to normal; they push the creature from their minds.
Four months later, a very terrified gate guard is desperately attempting to reach his Commander’s comm unit. There is, he sputters, a visitor for him. A very large, absurd looking, visitor. When he arrives, eyes wide, Quince squawks happily, lowers his head. Almost out of habit, Taylor reaches out to give him a friendly pat.
The next day, the bird is waiting near his old haunt. He practically plucks Taylor from the ground in an attempt to move him along. And with a pride that is almost comical (he really is a diva), he sets the man down in front of the entrance to an impressive outcropping in the mountains. Not terribly far from the colony, perhaps half an hour drive in a Rover. Quince makes a pleased purring sort of sound again, moving past him and inside.
Taylor smirks to himself, leans against the rock face at the sight presented to him. There’s another pterosaur in the cave, less colorful and smaller, undoubtedly a female, curled on herself and asleep.
“Found yourself a girl there, did you, Quince?” If he were a more imaginative man, he’d say the creature grinned. If he were a more imaginative man, he’d say that same expression played across the thing’s face when he returned to the cave a week later, his sons whooping and hollering behind him. And he’d say the same expression played across its alien features when Wash dragged an unfortunate creature up behind her, offering him the familiar treat.
He doesn’t have to imagine when the dinosaur stops by not far from the colony the next year, no less than four little pterosaurs lolloping around behind him. He sits beside the creature as it naps in the sun, pretending not to watch as his offspring flutter along with the Taylor boys.
The thing lets out a pleased little gurgling noise again when Taylor gives him that familiar pat on the head, both falling easily back into their friendly pattern.
Characters/ Pairing: Wash/Taylor, Mini-BAMF(s), Jim
Genre: Romance, Family, Absurdly Gratuitous Fluff, Crack/Humor
Word Count: 3,021
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Summary: Wash cannot understand the true majesty of his goal. He is going to ride that dinosaur.
A/N: This is crack. Really, really, fluffy crack that should in no way be taken seriously. If you smile, it did it's job. Also, features zapf_chancery's mini-bamf Jaime. And my mini-bamf Sam. Oh yes. There are mini bamflings and dinosaurs. It's gonna be sugary. I apologize.
Riding 101
They are currently standing on the edge of a small cliff, peering over the side at the pterosaurs ( Quetzalcoatlus, Malcolm had informed them proudly before they left the colony) resting not far beneath. The great winged creatures are strolling idly about, entirely at peace in their natural habitat. It would be a sight Wash would traditionally enjoy, find solace in, in a more traditional situation. But her Commander’s recent words have her inwardly rolling her eyes, unable to justify the childish expression playing across the older man’s features with the stoic figure in her head; the man who had been present not half an hour previous.
It’s almost impossible to compare the two men. Those blue eyes are sparkling with undeniable mischief in the midday sun, as he leans closer to the edge. As if she didn’t hear him the first time (oh, she most certainly had), he repeats himself, entirely too gleeful.
“Gonna ride it, Wash.”
The woman just shakes her head, crosses her arms over her chest. Despite her apparent disapproval (and irritation), Taylor continues on. She doesn’t understand; that’s the problem. Wash cannot, in that head of hers, comprehend the true majesty of his goal.
He is going to ride that goddamn dinosaur.
The bird in question (he has nicknamed him Quince), is an ugly bastard, perhaps the size of a giraffe. The long necked thing stares at him with beady eyes, cocking it’s oversized head to the side. It seems wildly confused by his presence, as if unable to understand why this tiny man creature is approaching him. He imagines if the thing had eyebrows it would be arching them. It lets out a loud squawk, tapping the ground with its beak. The Commander can only assume this is a sign of aggression, a prehistoric invitation to prove the quality of his worth.
His wife sees it as a sign of his rapidly fraying grasp on reality, “You’re insane, sir.”
“You’re just jealous, Wash.”
“Mmm-hmm,” his Lieutenant hums to herself, shifting to lean against a nearby tree as he stalks ever closer, “I’m sure I’ll be jealous when you fall and break your neck.”
“Not going to fall; the bastard has it coming to him.”
Wash rolls her eyes, metaphorically cleaning her hands of this. There is no talking Nathaniel out of an idea once he sets his mind on it and it’s fairly clear that he is hell bent on this. It’s not something she can even pretend to understand but she isn’t going to waste the energy it will take to dissuade him. She sighs again, shaking her head, hair tickling across her shoulders as she mentally braces herself, prepared to fetch her medkit when this inevitably spirals. The man offers her an entirely too confident smile as he stalks forward, glorious victory in reflecting in his eyes, his success foreordained.
He will triumph over this beast. There is no alternative.
Quince remains precisely where he is (none too bright), squawks again. He is most displeased by this small human creeping towards him. It never occurs that he should move (that would be absurd). With a wide grin on his face Taylor braces himself, coming to the edge of the small cliff face. If he leaps precisely right, he will land on the things back. If he misses...
Well, Wash is there to stitch him up.
Mustering his courage, he throws himself off the ledge, eyes closing as he plummets towards the earth. Rather than crashing to the ground however, he feels the smooth skin of the beast beneath him, dotted with coarse hair. Quick as a flash, he wraps his arms around the things neck, hooking them tightly together to prevent himself from being dislodged.
There is a very long moment where nothing happens. The dinosaur goes absolutely tense, opens its beak before closing it, opens its beak again. It cocks it head to the side in confusion, turning to regard the tiny man thing now on its back. Only then do its eyes widen in something like horror; it lets out a sound of absolute outrage at being degraded in such a way, takes an irritated step forward. In its head, this should be enough to dissuade the tiny thing. When the man thing does not let go it only serves to further its confusion.
Taylor watches as the wheels visibly turn in the things head, attempting to work out precisely what has happened. He can hear Wash’s laughter floating towards them. The great winged creature is not overly bright but it lets out an offended squawk, holds its elegant head high. It most certainly does not appreciate being mocked in such a manner. As if to prove itself, the thing opens its wings, stretches them to their full, impressive, width. And with a telling snort the thing rushes forward, taking the Commander with it.
Wash will admit that her eyes widen in surprise; the moment she hears Nathaniel’s laughter drifting back to her, however, it’s replaced with a more pressing irritation.
The man is insane. And his success here is most certainly not going to help matters any.
______________
“I told you I’d ride it, Wash.”
“You did, sir.”
“Shouldn’t you be saying something?”
“Oh, you don’t want me to say what I’m thinking, sir.”
The man chuckles at that, leaning over to loop an arm around her waist. Despite her supposed irritation with him, she leans into the touch, wrapping an answering arm about him. She offers him an amused smirk, reaches up to brush stray bits of debris from his hair (his landing had been less than perfect). He catches her hand, presses his lips to the inside of her wrist, chuckling against the delicate skin. In that moment, he knows that she will not resist if he leans in to kiss her...
The great bird squawks in protest from behind them. Nathaniel continues to move towards her, intent on closing the small amount of distance between them. He can almost make it; he can dissuade her....
But Wash leans back, turning slightly to glare at their new companion. The thing preens under her attention, puffing out its chest, “Remind me again why this thing is following us?”
“Think I might have uh...earned its respect or something,” he tries to sound indifferent about this, scholarly almost, but it’s impossible to keep the note of pride from coloring his tone. Whether he will admit to it or not, he is absolutely pleased with this development and can’t keep from beaming at the creature behind him. The thing makes a gurgling sort of sound of pleasure, shifting from one foot to the other. It’s an absurd motion on a creature of that size.
“So it’s always going to follow you?”
“Looks like it.”
She raises a dark brow, indicating the gate not far off from them, “And where are you going to keep your new friend?”
“He can stay on the outskirts of the colony safely enough,” if they’re being perfectly honest, this is likely not true. It seems to respect him well enough, seems to recognize that Wash is its master’s mate and is not the correct target to trifle with, but he could be dangerous to small children. Hell, the thing is likely just as dangerous to adults. Still, after all the trouble he went through with the thing...it seems like a waste to turn him loose so easily.
Wash seems to realize what he’s thinking. With an amused toss of her head she leans in to press a quick kiss to his jawline, “If you promise to feed him,” her tone is laced with teasing thick enough that he could cut it with a knife, “I’m sure you can keep him, sir.”
Quince seems to squawk in agreement.
__________________
The next morning, Taylor emerges from the colony half expecting the dinosaur to have made his escape. It would make perfect sense. But contrary to reason or nature, he finds the thing precisely where he left him. It cocks its head to the side, beady eyes focusing on him. Then it lets out a pleased purring sort of sound. It lifts its great head, reaches behind it. It plucks a small, unfortunate, creature from behind it. The oviraptor lets out a pitiful squeal as it is suddenly airborne. His friend deposits this in front of him, spearing it helpfully with its beak before nudging it towards him.
He can appreciate the gesture if not the implication that he should be eating that thing. When he does not act, it just lifts its wings, swallows the gift in a smooth gulp.
It’s much the same for the next few weeks. Every morning he expects the thing to have taken off in the night. And every morning, he’s still there waiting. There are certainly worse thing than having a giant, flying, pet dinosaur. When he walks by the things impromptu den, it hops up, following him. Its legs are not designed for extending jaunts of walking but it tries its damndest. And while it’s still rather averse to physical to contact, it will permit him to rest a hand on its long beak, offering a pat of praise. By the end of the month, it is accustomed enough to his presence, the touch of humans, to permit him sit on its back.
It’s two months before Quince (he’s Quince now, Taylor decides with some finality; the name fits him better than ‘it’) takes him for a short flight. He thrown from his seat at least twice and walks away from the experience with a few bruised ribs and a sprained wrist (Wash’s look of outrage when he informs her how he acquired these new injuries is worth any of the pain he’s in).
It’s equaled only by her look of simmering disapproval when he offers to take their sons to see his new pet. At eleven and eight both boys are absolutely enamored with the idea, stare at her with their big eyes (blue and soulful brown) until her veneer of stoicism is chipped away to nothingness. It still isn’t enough to make her unclench her jaw as they leave the colony.
Quince squawks happily as they approach, stretching from his afternoon nap in the sunlight. There are times when Taylor is convinced that the only reason he’s managed to tame the thing is because it had been a particularly lazy (potentially stupid) member of its species. Both Sam and Jaime press closer to their father’s legs as they come closer.
The dinosaur lowers its head to the same level of the children, fixes them with a beady eyes. Over the last few months it has become accustomed to the tiny man things but these are particularly tiny. It’s entirely likely that they would not even make a good meal.
He grumbles in disinterest before settling back down to nap, extends his wings to better absorb the sun.
Nathaniel offers his sons a comforting smile, “Go on. You wanted to see him.”
Neither of them move for a long moment. Sam acts first, visibly screwing up his courage before walking forward, hand extended towards the thing. It doesn’t move aside, huffs as it cracks an eye open to observe him. The boy’s hand makes contact with its skin (that odd amalgamation of scales and fur); Sam lets out a pleased squeak (only then do his parent’s hands drop from the weapons their hands have instinctively moved towards). Assured of his safety, Jaime quickly moves in to join his brother.
“Your bird’s a diva,” Wash mutters from beside him, her fingers entwining with his as she moves to stand at his side. There’s no note of displeasure in her tone now, however. Only a look of warmth, affection, as she takes in her sons absolutely pure joy.
He simply nods, watches as the dinosaur attempts to feign disinterest while he preens beneath the children's attentions.
______________
“You’re going to want to hold on, Wash.”
“Because traditionally I would let go?”
He shakes his head in amusement at the sharpness of her tone. Fearless as she is, the Lieutenant is still rather leery about willingly entrusting her life to this creature. Especially if it involves heights of any sort. Taylor gives her thigh an affectionate pat, “You’re going to do fine.”
Wash does not look half as convinced. There’s a snicker from behind him and, for a moment, he’s halfway convinced that the woman intends to climb down from her seat and punch the colony’s Sheriff in the face. Jim has chosen to accompany them on this particular outing (no ulterior motives, he promises, just wants to see the bird; nothing about Wash riding for the first time). With a shake of her head and a deep breath, she squeezes with her thighs.
And if the creature could smirk, Nathaniel would swear it did so. The thing and Wash have never been on particularly affectionate terms and that is rather clearly evident now. Quince takes off with a bit more vigor than strictly required, winging high into the air. The woman flings her arms around its neck, holding on for her dear life.
It leaves Taylor staring in something like terror. Not for his wife’s safety ( she’s lived through far worse and this is hardly going to threaten her), not for Quince’s safety. Shannon summarizes it perfectly when he says, rather absently, as if he’s almost pitying the other man’s fate, “She’s going to kill you when she gets down, you know that?”
Yes. He is entirely too aware of that.
She doesn’t kill him. In fact, the woman is wearing a smile, an actual smile, more than the small quirk of her lips she traditionally exhibits, when she lands, gives the dinosaur an affectionate pat as she dismounts.
And the next day, when she arrives with a fresh treat, one she’d hunted down herself, he doesn’t wonder if he’s been replaced as the things favorite human. For the second time, he’s left smiling, watches as she brushes a hand over the creatures head.
_______________
It’s more than a year when he arrives and finds the great bird has taken flight. And while it shouldn’t surprise him, he has to admit that he feels something akin to sadness at the sight, emptiness where the creature had formed an improvised nest. Bits of foliage and bones picked meticulously clean marking where he had established himself.
It’s foolish and entirely too sentimental (he had been a goddamn dinosaur, not a pet) but that odd sort of loss won’t be repressed. When he informs Jaime and Sam of their “friend’s” (shouldn’t have let them get attached; that had been a mistake) absence they stare at him in wide eyed confusion. His elder son adopts a look of sadness, offers him a wan sort of smile; his younger, more stubborn, stands in frustrated denial, unwilling to believe such a thing. Both ask him to check back again the next morning.
For his sons, he returns the day after and the day after that, halfway expecting him to return (even if he knows better; somehow there’s still that almost childish sort of hope). But the day after and the day after that there is no sign of the pterosaur. He stops hoping; Sam stops hoping and, eventually, even Jaime is willing to surrender to reality.
It had been a dinosaur, not a pet; there’s no reason for these feelings.
Three months pass with nothing. Life returns to normal; they push the creature from their minds.
Four months later, a very terrified gate guard is desperately attempting to reach his Commander’s comm unit. There is, he sputters, a visitor for him. A very large, absurd looking, visitor. When he arrives, eyes wide, Quince squawks happily, lowers his head. Almost out of habit, Taylor reaches out to give him a friendly pat.
The next day, the bird is waiting near his old haunt. He practically plucks Taylor from the ground in an attempt to move him along. And with a pride that is almost comical (he really is a diva), he sets the man down in front of the entrance to an impressive outcropping in the mountains. Not terribly far from the colony, perhaps half an hour drive in a Rover. Quince makes a pleased purring sort of sound again, moving past him and inside.
Taylor smirks to himself, leans against the rock face at the sight presented to him. There’s another pterosaur in the cave, less colorful and smaller, undoubtedly a female, curled on herself and asleep.
“Found yourself a girl there, did you, Quince?” If he were a more imaginative man, he’d say the creature grinned. If he were a more imaginative man, he’d say that same expression played across the thing’s face when he returned to the cave a week later, his sons whooping and hollering behind him. And he’d say the same expression played across its alien features when Wash dragged an unfortunate creature up behind her, offering him the familiar treat.
He doesn’t have to imagine when the dinosaur stops by not far from the colony the next year, no less than four little pterosaurs lolloping around behind him. He sits beside the creature as it naps in the sun, pretending not to watch as his offspring flutter along with the Taylor boys.
The thing lets out a pleased little gurgling noise again when Taylor gives him that familiar pat on the head, both falling easily back into their friendly pattern.