FSL Exchange Fic for: virkatjol
Title: A Day In The Life
Rating: PG
Written For: virkatjol
Written by: nymeria_55
Notes: To Virkatjol who requested something with John and Aeryn, family and cuddling. I've even managed to throw in a reference to watching movies.... ;-)
"D'Argo Sun Crichton! Main hangar bay. Now!"
When his mother's voice called him with that tone, the one his father called "don't frell with me, dude", young D'Argo dropped whatever he was doing and scampered, all the while mentally reviewing his recent actions to work out what kind of crime he would be accused of. Because Aeryn Sun never failed to find something that required disciplining him for. And boy, did she love her discipline!
At thirteen cycles D'Argo was old enough to understand that his mother's sterner requirements were based on sound reasoning and the strength of her love for him, something he had never, ever doubted. But he would also have welcomed some more slack, a less… well, military approach from her.
"Once a soldier, always a soldier, son!" John Crichton was fond of saying, winking at his wife and getting an amused smile in return. This, without fail, caused D'Argo to roll his eyes ceiling-ward, and sometimes groan in exasperation, so they would both burst out laughing. He secretly enjoyed this pantomime, even if it made him the center of their fun, because he liked to see that look, to witness that kind of unspoken bond. For some reason he didn't care to explore, it made him feel safe, and strong.
Right now, though, as he crossed the hangar bay's threshold, all he felt was worry, which became panic when he saw his mother standing beside her Prowler, hands on hips and a thunderous glare directed at him.
"How many times do I have to tell you to keep him out of here?"
D'Argo puzzlement lasted all of three microts: following his mother's pointing finger he saw Yoda's furry form crouched under the Prowler's treblin wing, the huge golden eyes mirroring his young master's unease. A few strands of power cable still dangling from the furry muzzle, the drannit tried to project a "Who, me?" expression that fooled no one. "I'm sorry, Mom. He must have found the portal open-" D'Argo trailed off, realizing his mistake.
"Yes, the portal was left open. And yes, as soon as he gained entrance, he started chewing on the power cables. Again."
"He likes the taste…"
"That's hardly an excuse, D'Argo, and we both know it. Yoda is your responsibility and you must either watch him more carefully, or teach him not to behave like a- like a frelling drannit!"
D'Argo had to struggle to control the laugh he felt bubbling up his chest, knowing that his mother would not be amused if he pointed out her involuntary witticism. "Ok, Mom," he said instead, "I'll be more careful. You'll see, once he grows up he'll stop being so messy. He's still a puppy, after all…"
"I'm aware of that, D'Argo. I have been for the past five cycles, in fact." The angry edge had gone away from Aeryn's voice, but her face remained stern. "Take him away from here and clean up. Then clean yourself up. Center chamber in one arn, don't be late."
"Yes, Mom. I mean, no Mom, I won't be late." When his mother left the bay, he crouched down toward his pet, stroking the golden-brown thick fur. "Well, at least you chewed only on the cables. If you'd damaged her precious Prowler we'd be in serious trouble now…" Yoda looked up, snuffled softly and licked his hand in agreement.
**
John Crichton never tired of looking at his wife, especially when she was getting ready for sleep. From the bed where he sprawled, hands crossed behind his head, he followed her economical motions through their quarters as she exchanged her daytime leathers for softer sleep-wear, then unbraided and brushed her hair.
Aeryn smiled at his reflection in the mirror on the wall, then turned around and crossed the few paces to the bed, lying down next to him.
"Hey," he said, taking her into his arms and kissing the top of her head.
"Hey yourself," Aeryn replied, settling more comfortably in his embrace.
"You still angry over the cables?" he asked, hands circling over her back in the soothing motions he knew she enjoyed.
"No, of course not." She sighed. "I just wish that D'Argo showed more responsibility. After all he's-"
"Thirteen. It's the time for chaos and mayhem, hon. Let him enjoy it. Let them both enjoy it. I know, I know" he added seeing the expression on her face, "at thirteen you were already bent on conquering the lesser races… Ouch!" He mimed doubling up in pain over the playful punch she threw at his midsection.
"I was not! But I was far more serious about my duties."
"Aeryn, with the life we lead, seriousness is always 'round the corner. Let's allow him as many chances to be carefree as we can: it's the greatest gift we can give him." John bent down to kiss his wife, moving a few strands of errant hair away from her forehead. "Wisdom will take care of itself."
"And who will take care of the frelling drannit in the meantime?"
John knew the lighter tone was Aeryn's signal that the matter was at least shelved, if not solved, and he accepted the truce: they had had many conversations like this one in the past, enough to understand their differences, if not reconcile them. "How long until he grows out of… puppyhood? He's sure taking his own sweet time, and he's almost as big as a Shetland pony!"
"What did you expect? He's a drannit." Aeryn looked at him with her 'you clueless hooman' expression, and light dawned on him.
"You mean- They are… very late bloomers?" At her nod, he went on. "Is that the reason you kept calling me- ?"
"Of course. What else?" There was a mischievous grin on her face now, and a wicked glint in her eyes.
"Well, thank heavens I'm all grown up, then."
"Are you?"
The smokiness of her voice was both a taunt and an invitation. He slid a hand under her shirt and let it travel up, ever so slowly. "Let me prove it to you…"
**
The planet was a dreary place, an airless ball of rock and ashes orbiting a pale orange sun, but at least it offered a safe haven where Moya could wait out the huge magnetic storm ravaging the system. Starbursting out to safety had not been an option, since the wild mag-fluctuation had made the maneuver too dangerous to try. Worst case scenario, they could expect a few solar days of boredom, while the storm went on its merry way.
"Or we could take this opportunity to clean up Cargo Bay Two," John said to D'Argo. "We've had no time to do it since we gave a lift to the Xsathrians three weekens ago."
"Aw, Dad, do we really have to clean up a lot of stinking feathers? Can't the DRDs-"
"In this case, hands are better than pincers," John clapped his son on the shoulder, at the same time steering him toward the Central Chamber's portal. "Besides, think of the great father-son bonding experience this will be!" He winked at D'Argo, not surprised when the boy's face fell.
When a group of six monks from Xsathria had booked the journey to the shrine of Gr'Lak, no one had thought of warning the Moyans that their avian guests were in Renewal, which was the time when they shed the old plumage in favor of a new coat of shiny feathers. Pilot had the good sense of regulating the air vents so that the discarded feathers stayed in the cargo bay and did not travel through the ducts, but that meant the bay floor was littered with them. And they stank.
"C'mon Dee, the sooner we start, the sooner we finish. Haul ass, man!"
Some three arns later they were about to seal the last of the smelly feathers in a disposal container, both of them already savoring the long, hot shower that would rid them of the stink.
"Can you finish up on your own, son? I want to go help your mother fix that pod's hydraulics."
"Sure Dad. I'm almost done anyway."
"You did a good job." John smiled at his son, mussing his hair affectionately, then turned toward the bay's exit.
"Brace for impact!!" Pilot's voice erupted from the comms, startling them. "Incoming-"
The cargo bay shook violently, an ominous roar like an explosion reverberating through the walls. Lights flickered, dimmed almost to nothing.
"Pilot, what the frell-" John's shout was cut off mid-sentence when another vicious shudder shook the floor and he lost his footing, cracking his head hard against a nearby crate.
Darkness became complete.
When John came to, head pounding painfully, he tried to look around the dimly lit bay to assess the situation, but was assaulted by a wave of nausea that left him weak and disoriented. Sitting up with caution, he looked around, groaning, and saw he was all alone. "D'Argo! Aeryn!" The comms only gave back a crackle of static. "Pilot!" A throbbing pain came from the direction of his left leg, increasing at every small movement he made.
All was forgotten, though, when he heard a step approach from behind: as he turned around, stifling a curse at the spike of pain in his leg, he saw D'Argo, face pale and drawn, move cautiously toward him over the debris-strewn floor.
"You're awake, Dad! I was worried!"
"Not as I was when I didn't find you here!" Relief felt wonderful, and John breathed a little more easily. "You know what happened, son?"
"Something hit us." D'Argo's words stumbled on each other in his haste to convey as much information as he could. "Mom's ok. I spoke to her and Pilot but had to go out in the corridor, something wrong with the comms signal in here. Moya is damaged but I don't know how m-"
"Whoa! Take a breath there, Dee." Hearing they were all ok, more or less, took a great weight off John's chest. "One thing at a time. Your mother?"
"She's in the main hangar. Can't get out 'cause the portal's stuck but she's working on it. Pilot is all right, too, and sending DRDs to the point of impact. He says Moya's damaged but she's holding up. I was scared you'd been hurt badly when you didn't wake up…" John saw D'Argo was making a huge effort to keep calm and started to get up to comfort him, but the pain in his leg forced him to stay down. He smiled up at his son reassuringly.
"Don't worry, must have sprained an ankle or something. And cracked my head on that crate," he pointed. "But the head's tougher!" John was relieved to see a smile on D'Argo face. "Help your old man to get up?"
"Sure."
As he painfully rose to his feet, levering on his son's shoulder, John realized they were almost of a height and that the boy did not lack strength. When did that happen? he wondered as they slowly limped down the corridor.
**
"It must have been a piece of debris caught in the fringes of the storm." Pilot's calm voice made their brush with danger sound almost ordinary. The family had reconvened in the Central Chamber after tending to John's injuries and cleaning up. "It acquired velocity when passing close to the sun and came at Moya from behind the planet."
"Something like the slingshot maneuver I attempted with the Farscape One…" John mused, a hand absent-mindedly massaging his sprained ankle.
"Yes, John I believe you're right. Fortunately the impact was more… dramatic than harmful."
"And are you and Moya truly all right?"
"She is fine, Aeryn, and she thanks you for your concern, as do I. I will let you know if we need assistance for the repairs, but I suggest you all rest, for now." With a dip of his head, Pilot closed the connection.
"We'll have a lot more clean-up to do tomorrow…" Sitting on the floor beside a sprawled Yoda, D'Argo stroked his pet's thick fur and sighed in resignation.
"We'll take it one day at a time, son."
"Pilot's right, though, we should get some rest for now, and that means you," Aeryn glared at John in mock sternness.
"Aw, I love it when you boss me, hon!" he drawled. As he got up from the chair, not without some difficulty, John found that D'Argo was at his side, offering support. Yes, he is taller indeed! "Hey, you had a growth spurt while I wasn't looking?" The boy smiled, somewhat shyly.
"I am pleased by the manner in which you faced this emergency D'Argo," Aeryn was looking at them both with pride, and John saw their son blush. "You correctly assessed the situation and acted on it without panicking."
"Well, the apple did not fall too far from the tree, right?" When Aeryn looked at him in puzzlement, John corrected himself. "I mean he's as cool-headed as his old man, of course."
"What I meant," Aeryn retorted, "was that my training has paid off." But she was smiling the dazzling smile he loved so much.
"Do I get some say in the matter?" D'Argo quipped.
"NO!" John and Aeryn replied in unison, then all three burst out laughing in their relief of being unarmed and the sheer joy of being together.
"Know what?" One arm across his son's shoulders and the other around his wife's waist, John felt a very lucky man indeed. "Let's turn this into a family evening. We'll break out one of my old DVDs and watch a movie together. Something to take our minds off today's scare. You guys game?"
Aeryn nodded, smiling, and D'Argo asked, "Which movie do you have in mind, Dad?"
"Ah, the perfect one, oldie but goodie. Airport 77. You'll love it!"
They stepped into the corridor, Yoda snuffling contentedly on their heels.
Rating: PG
Written For: virkatjol
Written by: nymeria_55
Notes: To Virkatjol who requested something with John and Aeryn, family and cuddling. I've even managed to throw in a reference to watching movies.... ;-)
"D'Argo Sun Crichton! Main hangar bay. Now!"
When his mother's voice called him with that tone, the one his father called "don't frell with me, dude", young D'Argo dropped whatever he was doing and scampered, all the while mentally reviewing his recent actions to work out what kind of crime he would be accused of. Because Aeryn Sun never failed to find something that required disciplining him for. And boy, did she love her discipline!
At thirteen cycles D'Argo was old enough to understand that his mother's sterner requirements were based on sound reasoning and the strength of her love for him, something he had never, ever doubted. But he would also have welcomed some more slack, a less… well, military approach from her.
"Once a soldier, always a soldier, son!" John Crichton was fond of saying, winking at his wife and getting an amused smile in return. This, without fail, caused D'Argo to roll his eyes ceiling-ward, and sometimes groan in exasperation, so they would both burst out laughing. He secretly enjoyed this pantomime, even if it made him the center of their fun, because he liked to see that look, to witness that kind of unspoken bond. For some reason he didn't care to explore, it made him feel safe, and strong.
Right now, though, as he crossed the hangar bay's threshold, all he felt was worry, which became panic when he saw his mother standing beside her Prowler, hands on hips and a thunderous glare directed at him.
"How many times do I have to tell you to keep him out of here?"
D'Argo puzzlement lasted all of three microts: following his mother's pointing finger he saw Yoda's furry form crouched under the Prowler's treblin wing, the huge golden eyes mirroring his young master's unease. A few strands of power cable still dangling from the furry muzzle, the drannit tried to project a "Who, me?" expression that fooled no one. "I'm sorry, Mom. He must have found the portal open-" D'Argo trailed off, realizing his mistake.
"Yes, the portal was left open. And yes, as soon as he gained entrance, he started chewing on the power cables. Again."
"He likes the taste…"
"That's hardly an excuse, D'Argo, and we both know it. Yoda is your responsibility and you must either watch him more carefully, or teach him not to behave like a- like a frelling drannit!"
D'Argo had to struggle to control the laugh he felt bubbling up his chest, knowing that his mother would not be amused if he pointed out her involuntary witticism. "Ok, Mom," he said instead, "I'll be more careful. You'll see, once he grows up he'll stop being so messy. He's still a puppy, after all…"
"I'm aware of that, D'Argo. I have been for the past five cycles, in fact." The angry edge had gone away from Aeryn's voice, but her face remained stern. "Take him away from here and clean up. Then clean yourself up. Center chamber in one arn, don't be late."
"Yes, Mom. I mean, no Mom, I won't be late." When his mother left the bay, he crouched down toward his pet, stroking the golden-brown thick fur. "Well, at least you chewed only on the cables. If you'd damaged her precious Prowler we'd be in serious trouble now…" Yoda looked up, snuffled softly and licked his hand in agreement.
**
John Crichton never tired of looking at his wife, especially when she was getting ready for sleep. From the bed where he sprawled, hands crossed behind his head, he followed her economical motions through their quarters as she exchanged her daytime leathers for softer sleep-wear, then unbraided and brushed her hair.
Aeryn smiled at his reflection in the mirror on the wall, then turned around and crossed the few paces to the bed, lying down next to him.
"Hey," he said, taking her into his arms and kissing the top of her head.
"Hey yourself," Aeryn replied, settling more comfortably in his embrace.
"You still angry over the cables?" he asked, hands circling over her back in the soothing motions he knew she enjoyed.
"No, of course not." She sighed. "I just wish that D'Argo showed more responsibility. After all he's-"
"Thirteen. It's the time for chaos and mayhem, hon. Let him enjoy it. Let them both enjoy it. I know, I know" he added seeing the expression on her face, "at thirteen you were already bent on conquering the lesser races… Ouch!" He mimed doubling up in pain over the playful punch she threw at his midsection.
"I was not! But I was far more serious about my duties."
"Aeryn, with the life we lead, seriousness is always 'round the corner. Let's allow him as many chances to be carefree as we can: it's the greatest gift we can give him." John bent down to kiss his wife, moving a few strands of errant hair away from her forehead. "Wisdom will take care of itself."
"And who will take care of the frelling drannit in the meantime?"
John knew the lighter tone was Aeryn's signal that the matter was at least shelved, if not solved, and he accepted the truce: they had had many conversations like this one in the past, enough to understand their differences, if not reconcile them. "How long until he grows out of… puppyhood? He's sure taking his own sweet time, and he's almost as big as a Shetland pony!"
"What did you expect? He's a drannit." Aeryn looked at him with her 'you clueless hooman' expression, and light dawned on him.
"You mean- They are… very late bloomers?" At her nod, he went on. "Is that the reason you kept calling me- ?"
"Of course. What else?" There was a mischievous grin on her face now, and a wicked glint in her eyes.
"Well, thank heavens I'm all grown up, then."
"Are you?"
The smokiness of her voice was both a taunt and an invitation. He slid a hand under her shirt and let it travel up, ever so slowly. "Let me prove it to you…"
**
The planet was a dreary place, an airless ball of rock and ashes orbiting a pale orange sun, but at least it offered a safe haven where Moya could wait out the huge magnetic storm ravaging the system. Starbursting out to safety had not been an option, since the wild mag-fluctuation had made the maneuver too dangerous to try. Worst case scenario, they could expect a few solar days of boredom, while the storm went on its merry way.
"Or we could take this opportunity to clean up Cargo Bay Two," John said to D'Argo. "We've had no time to do it since we gave a lift to the Xsathrians three weekens ago."
"Aw, Dad, do we really have to clean up a lot of stinking feathers? Can't the DRDs-"
"In this case, hands are better than pincers," John clapped his son on the shoulder, at the same time steering him toward the Central Chamber's portal. "Besides, think of the great father-son bonding experience this will be!" He winked at D'Argo, not surprised when the boy's face fell.
When a group of six monks from Xsathria had booked the journey to the shrine of Gr'Lak, no one had thought of warning the Moyans that their avian guests were in Renewal, which was the time when they shed the old plumage in favor of a new coat of shiny feathers. Pilot had the good sense of regulating the air vents so that the discarded feathers stayed in the cargo bay and did not travel through the ducts, but that meant the bay floor was littered with them. And they stank.
"C'mon Dee, the sooner we start, the sooner we finish. Haul ass, man!"
Some three arns later they were about to seal the last of the smelly feathers in a disposal container, both of them already savoring the long, hot shower that would rid them of the stink.
"Can you finish up on your own, son? I want to go help your mother fix that pod's hydraulics."
"Sure Dad. I'm almost done anyway."
"You did a good job." John smiled at his son, mussing his hair affectionately, then turned toward the bay's exit.
"Brace for impact!!" Pilot's voice erupted from the comms, startling them. "Incoming-"
The cargo bay shook violently, an ominous roar like an explosion reverberating through the walls. Lights flickered, dimmed almost to nothing.
"Pilot, what the frell-" John's shout was cut off mid-sentence when another vicious shudder shook the floor and he lost his footing, cracking his head hard against a nearby crate.
Darkness became complete.
When John came to, head pounding painfully, he tried to look around the dimly lit bay to assess the situation, but was assaulted by a wave of nausea that left him weak and disoriented. Sitting up with caution, he looked around, groaning, and saw he was all alone. "D'Argo! Aeryn!" The comms only gave back a crackle of static. "Pilot!" A throbbing pain came from the direction of his left leg, increasing at every small movement he made.
All was forgotten, though, when he heard a step approach from behind: as he turned around, stifling a curse at the spike of pain in his leg, he saw D'Argo, face pale and drawn, move cautiously toward him over the debris-strewn floor.
"You're awake, Dad! I was worried!"
"Not as I was when I didn't find you here!" Relief felt wonderful, and John breathed a little more easily. "You know what happened, son?"
"Something hit us." D'Argo's words stumbled on each other in his haste to convey as much information as he could. "Mom's ok. I spoke to her and Pilot but had to go out in the corridor, something wrong with the comms signal in here. Moya is damaged but I don't know how m-"
"Whoa! Take a breath there, Dee." Hearing they were all ok, more or less, took a great weight off John's chest. "One thing at a time. Your mother?"
"She's in the main hangar. Can't get out 'cause the portal's stuck but she's working on it. Pilot is all right, too, and sending DRDs to the point of impact. He says Moya's damaged but she's holding up. I was scared you'd been hurt badly when you didn't wake up…" John saw D'Argo was making a huge effort to keep calm and started to get up to comfort him, but the pain in his leg forced him to stay down. He smiled up at his son reassuringly.
"Don't worry, must have sprained an ankle or something. And cracked my head on that crate," he pointed. "But the head's tougher!" John was relieved to see a smile on D'Argo face. "Help your old man to get up?"
"Sure."
As he painfully rose to his feet, levering on his son's shoulder, John realized they were almost of a height and that the boy did not lack strength. When did that happen? he wondered as they slowly limped down the corridor.
**
"It must have been a piece of debris caught in the fringes of the storm." Pilot's calm voice made their brush with danger sound almost ordinary. The family had reconvened in the Central Chamber after tending to John's injuries and cleaning up. "It acquired velocity when passing close to the sun and came at Moya from behind the planet."
"Something like the slingshot maneuver I attempted with the Farscape One…" John mused, a hand absent-mindedly massaging his sprained ankle.
"Yes, John I believe you're right. Fortunately the impact was more… dramatic than harmful."
"And are you and Moya truly all right?"
"She is fine, Aeryn, and she thanks you for your concern, as do I. I will let you know if we need assistance for the repairs, but I suggest you all rest, for now." With a dip of his head, Pilot closed the connection.
"We'll have a lot more clean-up to do tomorrow…" Sitting on the floor beside a sprawled Yoda, D'Argo stroked his pet's thick fur and sighed in resignation.
"We'll take it one day at a time, son."
"Pilot's right, though, we should get some rest for now, and that means you," Aeryn glared at John in mock sternness.
"Aw, I love it when you boss me, hon!" he drawled. As he got up from the chair, not without some difficulty, John found that D'Argo was at his side, offering support. Yes, he is taller indeed! "Hey, you had a growth spurt while I wasn't looking?" The boy smiled, somewhat shyly.
"I am pleased by the manner in which you faced this emergency D'Argo," Aeryn was looking at them both with pride, and John saw their son blush. "You correctly assessed the situation and acted on it without panicking."
"Well, the apple did not fall too far from the tree, right?" When Aeryn looked at him in puzzlement, John corrected himself. "I mean he's as cool-headed as his old man, of course."
"What I meant," Aeryn retorted, "was that my training has paid off." But she was smiling the dazzling smile he loved so much.
"Do I get some say in the matter?" D'Argo quipped.
"NO!" John and Aeryn replied in unison, then all three burst out laughing in their relief of being unarmed and the sheer joy of being together.
"Know what?" One arm across his son's shoulders and the other around his wife's waist, John felt a very lucky man indeed. "Let's turn this into a family evening. We'll break out one of my old DVDs and watch a movie together. Something to take our minds off today's scare. You guys game?"
Aeryn nodded, smiling, and D'Argo asked, "Which movie do you have in mind, Dad?"
"Ah, the perfect one, oldie but goodie. Airport 77. You'll love it!"
They stepped into the corridor, Yoda snuffling contentedly on their heels.