blackholesandrevelations

Nervous that she wouldn't like his sappy, cliché romantic gesture? Now whyever would he think that? Aeryn - either that or it's some kind of monster - stormed into the room barely a microt later, kicking her boots at the corner of the room and scowling heavily.

"Did I miss something --" Down in the bar there were people everywhere. People who couldn't seem to stop kissing and sighing and generally getting in the way of her enjoying her coffee. She was not pleased.

She finally looked up, one arm still caught in her leather jacket and stopped mid-action.

"...John?"

"Aeryn." He noted, then realised that HEY THAT IS AERYN, and jumped toward her.

"Hey, babe." He grinned. "Happy Valentine's Day."

A sloppy kiss was dropped on her cheek and he gave her a once over. DAMN HER. WHY COULD SHE NOT HEAR HIS TELEPATHY AND WEAR A DRESS?

"Happy what--?" She frowned. Surely it wasn't that time again? Had she...frell, she'd gone and forgotten.

And here he was, doing his damned human best and trying to make things nice for her. She ran a hand through her hair quickly, trying to dispel some of the panic.

"Of course. You as...well." She returned the kiss, allowing herself to relax just the barest of moments.

"I got Bar to give us dinner. I thought we could eat here. And it'd be...nice." He drifted off, idly pointing at the table. "Indulge me in my silly Earth holiday?"

"I..." Was never very good at pretending when John Crichton is involved. "--forgot."

"About the holiday." She said gruffly, though John must be well used to her odd moods by now.

A quiet moment passed in which she draped her jacket over the back of the chair and finally took a seat. When she looked back at him, her expression was as unreadable as ever, though there was something close to emotion in her eyes.

"Thank you."

He followed her to the table and pressed a kiss into her hair. "It doesn't matter."

He was just glad she was here now. With him.

"No problem, sweetheart." He grabbed the food plates and set them on the table, careful not to catch himself on fire.

'Cause that would suck.

"Then why such a commotion?" She queried, her voice light and teasing. She gestured at the table in front of her and glanced back to him.

"How long were you planning this?" And how did he get away with it right under her nose?

"'Cause." He shrugged, putting food on both their plates. "I love you."

He didn't answer the second question, just gave her a playful wink.

"You know --" She pointed out, rolling her eyes quite pointedly in his direction.

Try as he might, she probably won't admit how nice it actually is. Not until she has some food in her.

"--when we were on Moya, we never had time to sit down like this. Not very often." Her mouth twitched. "Not without Chiana and Rygel throwing food at each other."

He got the sentiment, and grinned over at her. "I think we should ground them. No tv for a month, and they have to do the dishes."

He sat down across from her and smiled once more. "It's nice, this."

"Or just call a meeting and vent the cargo bay." It was impossible to tell if she was joking, until the laughter finally made it's way out.

"Peaceful." She corrected. No explosions, no-one trying to kill them. Certainly no thinking about anyone dying. Not today.

Slightly puzzled, she asked: "What are we having?"

"Food." He said cheekily. "Potato gratin," He pointed at the potato and cheesy dish, "Steak and salad." And points at that too.

"And dessert, but that's a suprise."

She grinned, eyeing the steak (the one thing she recognised).

"I have no idea what potato gratin is, John." Translation: she likes him and thinks he is cute.

"Well. You should just try it." He grinned back.

Translation: he likes her and thinks she's hot, not cute, 'cause she'd so kick his ass.

"Does it bite?" She picked up a fork and poked at the offending dish, though her eyes never left his.

It was a common thing between them, their inability to pay attention to much else once that spark got caught between them; grey eyes meeting blue. The crew of Moya had often complained it took them too long to get repairs done, despite Aeryn's efficiency and insisting that they finished the job quickly. She always managed to look at him just a microt too long, listen to his earth babble just a moment more than she should.

"Only if you call it names." He smiled at her, slow, the grin spreading across his face.

"Try it," he said softly, watching her.

"Names are your thing, not mine. Sparky, Fluffy..." And so on and so forth. She had no idea where he kept that endless list of alternate names.

Her eyes finally relocated, resting on the food as she scooped up a bit with her fork and placed it carefully in her mouth, eyes turning slightly to the side as she considered the taste.

"Not bad."

He keeps that list of alternate names in his pants, oh baby.

John grinned at her as she tasted the food, before eating a few bites of it himself. "S'delicious."

Not just good, Aeryn. Delicious.

One would choose not to question what else he keeps in his pants (is that a Taric Deployer in your pants or are you just happy to see me).

"Maybe human tastebuds are different to Sebaceans." She teased, despite the third forkful she was devouring.

(He is always happy to see her).

"Maybe you are just stubborn." He jabbed the fork in her direction, before scooping up more food. "Wait, that's not a maybe. We know that one already, sweetheart."

He was teasing! Please don't beat him up!

"I'm the stubborn one?" She raised both eyebrows. "John Crichton. Astronaut. Daredevil. Mr 'it'll be fun to stick with the original plan when it's clearly suicide'."

Not that Aeryn could ever be accused of coming up with suicidal plans.

"I keep life interestin', honey." John drawled. "You know you love it."

"My life has been interesting enough for ten cycles. Some boredom might be just what I need."

It's a thing to say. Convincing herself that she was happy here, with the quiet life and the alcohol and the chatting with friends. That every time she looked at that door she didn't get the urge to walk out of it and fly off on some insane mission.

But her head ruled her and no matter what her heart had to say on the matter - the adrenalin rush - it's something she wouldn't do. Not now that he was here. Her sole priority was figuring out how to stop him from doing that exact thing.

She knows him too well. He always looks for the door, the urge growing too strong some days and he just has to drown it with booze and friends. Sometimes it's Andrew, and they talk about the good things in life, and what to do if Scorpius ever shows up.

Sometimes it's Bernard, where he eats his words half the time and promises that he won't kill Scorpius (even though he'd love to, even if he knows he's not going to be able to). Sometimes it's Jack, and Jack smokes cigarettes before telling him quiet things. Jack doesn't talk much, and John wonders if he ever did.

And lots of the times, it's Sarah Jane and they giggle and act like siblings and he loses all ability to be mature (but surely Aeryn would point out that he never was in the first place!) and most of the time...most of the time he's here. With Aeryn.

And those are the moments the door doesn't haunt him the most. When he forgets his wanderlust and is content and happy right here with her.

He never replied to her comment, just taking another bite, before reaching out and grabbing her hand to squeeze it.

She paused in her eating, placing the fork carefully to the side and her other hand on top of his. He didn't need to say anything. She couldn't tell what he was thinking, half the time John confused her more than anything else. Yet right now, she could see it in his eyes.

It terrified her. The same way it did when he talked of wormholes and she thought that one day they might take him from her...as they had before. Aeryn still marvelled at how easily the fear came, when she had been trained to force it down and death had never scared her...

You have worked your way into my heart.

I love you

until then.

He cracked a smile, because this has suddenly lost the cheer of the evening, and he wants it back. Tonight is a night about love and God, does he love her.

"Hey." He murmured, leaning forward a trifle. "Guess what."

Her mouth strained upwards. That same half-disapproving smile she turned on John whenever he was being exceedingly human.

All the same she leant toward him, thumb gently moving over his hand.

"What?"

"I love you." He said simply, leaning forward to close the distance and press a kiss against her lips.

"Also, I have something for you." He pulled back, just enough to give her a box. "I know you aren't one for...wearing girly things...but this is...it would be an honour if you would take this."

He was stumbling over his words and he couldn't get the sentiment out right. Inside the box is a necklace, a replica of the one that belonged to his mother...and grandmother before her.

"The real thing is on Earth, and if we ever get back, I'll give you that...this...Bar made this for me..." He flailed slightly, pushing the box at her.

"I love you too." Though it was barely a whisper against his mouth, the words held all the meaning of his.

When she took the box in her hands and opened it, it was with the utmost care. Certainly a surprise to see such rough hands - used to weapons and punching - lift the necklace so delicately and run her fingers over it.

"John...I.." The words didn't come easily, so she licked her lips. And then all she could think about was the locket. Her first proper gift...that Chiana had stolen. How they had grown old together and she had been afraid that he had only stayed because he couldn't leave, yet he looked at her with such tenderness.

His image in her locket. And now he was giving her this, telling her how special she was, she couldn't turn that down or sound ungrateful.

"--thank you. It's beautiful." Three quick steps and she was up from the table, at his side, the necklace twined around her hand. Pressed to his cheek as she urged her lips against his.

As if he could feel everything she meant in the warmth of that kiss.

He kissed her back, hands at her waist, pulling her to him, settling her down on his lap. His hand slid under her shit just a tad, hand warm on her warm skin.

He pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against hers. "Well." He grinned breathlessly. "If that's how you react to gifts, I'll get you one more often."

Only he won't. Because then they wouldn't be as special.

"Help me put it on?" Easy enough to ignore the undertone of breathlessness in those words, when her face is so composed. She held the necklace out to him, turning her back to him and settling down the opposite way to what he'd intended.

She could pretend not to notice how it affected him.

"Sure." He murmured as she sat down, opposite the way he wanted. But he dealt with it, moving her hair to clasp the necklace around her neck.

Once finished, he pressed a kiss to her neck, smiling into the skin. "There."

"Doesn't quite go with the outfit." Aeryn responded, smiling as the vibration of the word tremored through her neck. She stood and turned to let him see it, resting perfectly above the line of her faded grey t-shirt; reflecting the tones of her skin through it and throwing sparkles of light back at John.

It was implied in her tone that she didn't really care about fashion.

"I like this holiday. Happy Valentines day, John."

"Happy Valentines day, sweetheart." John grinned up at her, before hopping to his feet and brushing fingers over the necklace. He leaned forward once more, pressing a quick kiss to her lips, then her nose. "I love you."

"Everything in my life that changed...it started with you--" For better or worse. Not ruined. He didn't ruin her life, that was just their little joke.

He inspired her to change, to be better, transformed everything about her. Except, she mused, that wasn't right; she changed it herself - something about him had just given her the kickstart she needed.

It had re-awoken the desire to be different; a fire started in her by the pain in Velorek's eyes when she betrayed him.

You can be more.

"-- this isn't what I expected my life to be, but I'm glad it's with you." Slipping her arms around his waist she merely laid her forehead to his; in a rare moment of silence she just allowed herself to breathe.

He grinned as she said that, a small laugh escaping him, and he tightened his arms around her, breathing as well.

Eventually breathing isn't enough, and he kisses her forehead, before stooping to kiss her cheek, jaw, down her neck.

He kisses where the necklace lies against her skin, pulling her close to him again. "You," he murmured as he pulled away. "Are the best thing in my life. You keep me going. I'm glad you're with me too."

Aeryn forced down any negative thoughts attempting to rise, any arguments, any pain from the past. This was their day. A day for lovers, a day to love and nothing was going to ruin that.

"John..." No sentence followed the low pronunciation of his name. She just liked how it sounded on her tongue. The fact that he was here and she could touch him, settle her lips against the top of his head and smell his hair, feel his mouth send shivers up her skin.

"Let's go to bed."

YES. This is good! Bed Good!

Oh no, he's lost all other train of thought! But he remains calm outwardly. "Good idea," He smiled, kissing her soundly once more.

"And later..." She breathed against his earlobe, dragging her mouth down the line of his jaw.

"-- we'll have dessert."

The bed part of the holiday, she was soon to learn, was just another reason to love it.

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