ficlet: "Eighty-Six Years" John/Aeryn
Jul. 29th, 2006 10:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wisdomeagleTitle: "Eighty-Six Years"
Fandom: Farscape
Pairing: John/Aeryn
Spoilers/Timeline: Either S3 on Talyn or the end of S4.
Rating: PG-13 for sexual situations.
Notes: This has been sitting open in NoteTab for months.
Summary: They never get a break.
Words: 242
Eighty-Six Years
John's curled up low against Aeryn's hip, nuzzling kisses into her thigh whenever he thinks he can get away with it.
"What are you doing?"
"Thinking," he tells her thigh.
"Abou...?" She cuts the t off the end, speaking in English that will never be perfect but is far closer than he could come to her language. He's distracted from his thoughts by the curve of Aeryn's hip, but she swats him away before he can dive in. "Tell me."
"About Earth. Baseball."
"Baseball?" She tests the word on her tongue. Not bad for a rookie.
"It's a game."
"I know what it is." Well, that's not too surprising; she's been living with his brain for four cycles.
"Think the Cubs'll ever win the World Series?"
Her response is a cold stare of disbelief. "You are worrying about sports?"
"Not worrying," he tells her. "Pondering. There's this team, did I mention them? The Boston Red Sox?"
"Red Socks?"
"Don't worry about it -- anyhow, they're cursed."
"Like us?"
"Worse'n us."
"That's hard to believe."
"I know, but it's true. Documented and everything. The team never gets a break. They've come so close, almost touching victory and then... it all falls apart." He rolls over and can't look at her anymore; he knows where this is heading.
"Do you think they will win? Someday?"
He sighs. "Dunno, bambino. I hope so."
"Yes." Pause. "Me too."
Fandom: Farscape
Pairing: John/Aeryn
Spoilers/Timeline: Either S3 on Talyn or the end of S4.
Rating: PG-13 for sexual situations.
Notes: This has been sitting open in NoteTab for months.
Summary: They never get a break.
Words: 242
Eighty-Six Years
John's curled up low against Aeryn's hip, nuzzling kisses into her thigh whenever he thinks he can get away with it.
"What are you doing?"
"Thinking," he tells her thigh.
"Abou...?" She cuts the t off the end, speaking in English that will never be perfect but is far closer than he could come to her language. He's distracted from his thoughts by the curve of Aeryn's hip, but she swats him away before he can dive in. "Tell me."
"About Earth. Baseball."
"Baseball?" She tests the word on her tongue. Not bad for a rookie.
"It's a game."
"I know what it is." Well, that's not too surprising; she's been living with his brain for four cycles.
"Think the Cubs'll ever win the World Series?"
Her response is a cold stare of disbelief. "You are worrying about sports?"
"Not worrying," he tells her. "Pondering. There's this team, did I mention them? The Boston Red Sox?"
"Red Socks?"
"Don't worry about it -- anyhow, they're cursed."
"Like us?"
"Worse'n us."
"That's hard to believe."
"I know, but it's true. Documented and everything. The team never gets a break. They've come so close, almost touching victory and then... it all falls apart." He rolls over and can't look at her anymore; he knows where this is heading.
"Do you think they will win? Someday?"
He sighs. "Dunno, bambino. I hope so."
"Yes." Pause. "Me too."