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Written by: Dreamshaper
Archived: 27 September 1999
Notes and Warnings: Both literal and figurative fluff contained within. Handle with immense care! You have been warned. Also, thanks to Mea, who beta'd, and laughed, and agreed that a steady diet of sap is good for the digestion.
Disclaimer: Characters/storyline of Farscape are not mine, and I make no claims. However *this* is mine, and I make full claim, silly as it may be. ;)
Summary: John gets along well with small green and purple balls of fluff.
The bazaar was filled with bustling crowds and strong smells--as well as a hoard of animals he'd never be able to name, more foods than he'd ever be able to taste, aliens so strange in form and fierce in scent that he was reduced to frequent double-takes...with a crinkled nose.
He knew he was gawking, a farmboy gone to town for one of the first times, but he still couldn't stop himself. The death glares Aeryn was tossing his way were basically bouncing off him; the faintly amused glances Zhaan sent him only encouraged his enthusiasm.
They'd been off Moya and in these crowded markets before, but this was the largest and the most diverse of any they'd explored so far. According to Zhaan, it offered some of the finest foods and herbs--she was doing extremely well in trading for them, she'd told him quietly, far better than she'd expected. D'Argo believed it was probably a good place to look for maps, Rygel was finding dozens of collectable treasures, and Chiana was off undoubtedly doing some useful thieving. Aeryn had added two gleaming blades to her collection and had chosen one for D'Argo--she appeared more than pleased with the quality, and had been making murmuring noises about 'teaching Crichton something useful.'
And John was having fun. There was so much to see and sample, and he was full of energy. He couldn't remember feeling this lighthearted in quite some time and wasn't about to dampen his own enthusiasm, not even for a lesson in weaponry from Aeryn. Especially not since they were passing a stall crowded with small, fluffy creatures that looked up at him with kitten eyes...
"What are they?" he asked, wrapping a hand around Aeryn's arm to stop her.
She gritted her teeth, carefully removing her arm from his grasp. "These, Crichton, are trellases." With exaggerated patience, she watched as he knelt down to pet one of the smaller fluffballs, one with fur a deep green color and big blue eyes. "Can we move on now?"
"Pets or food?" John asked, ignoring her obvious annoyance.
"What?"
"Are these...trellases, right? Are they pets, or are they food?" He scratched the green one under its chin, smiling. It reminded him very much of a tiny kitten, from the eyes that were narrowed in pleasure to the needle sharp claws that flexed from each of its six tiny feet.
"It depends, Crichton. I wouldn't eat one." Aeryn knelt beside John, reaching through the thin wires surrounding the babies to scratch a slightly larger purple one. "But the Hynerion might, if he were desperate."
The creature vibrating under John's hand rolled over on its back, allowing him to rub its plump, silky stomach as it looked up at him. It kneaded the air with its paws and a tiny, rough hum slipped from its throat. Completely charmed, John laughed and murmured to it, unaware of Aeryn watching on, bemused.
"Crichton--Zhaan's already gone on ahead and the rest are dispersed as well. We have to go."
"Just--just wait a minute...or whatever, Aeryn. I think I want one of these." He didn't look over, keeping his eyes trained on the baby, and didn't see her roll her eyes. He didn't have to, he could practically feel her do it.
"We have no need for a trellas, Crichton. Two, technically, since they don't thrive long when alone."
John rose, brushing his hands over the dust on his pants, and smiled down at Aeryn. She hadn't stopped scratching the little purple one, he noted, and was definitely an unwilling softy. And the green one was looking up at him with huge, patiently loving eyes. "I have need for a trellas," he decided. "Or two."
Aeryn gave the purple baby one more caress and rose, folding her arms and frowning while John and the merchant haggled. He was aware of that frown the whole time, aimed right between his shoulder blades, and it made him itchy. But he wanted the sweet, friendly little furballs and Aeryn wasn't going to be able to be stop him any more than she had been able to earlier, when he was doing his hick impersonation.
They offered unquestioning acceptance, he thought as the merchant loaded the two babies into a small carrying case. Apparently easy to care for and hardy, they were perfect for life aboard Moya, and--
He turned and braved Aeryn's scowl with a quirked grin. "Come on," he said brusquely, imitating her accent and impatient tone. "We'll be abandoned here and left to die if we don't catch up with Zhaan."
Aeryn turned on her booted heel, striding away quickly--for a second John was almost afraid she was going to abandon him, but then she froze without looking at him, and waited for him to catch up.
Oh yeah, he thought, grinning and tucking the case against his chest, she's a softy.
Zhaan laughed and cooed at the little green and purple babies when John and Aeryn caught up with her, and praised his ability to choose the most perfect ones in the litters. D'Argo, when they spotted him heading back to the transport, was visibly frustrated. But when he saw the trellases, he softened, reaching inside the case to smooth one huge finger down a fluffy cheek. "My son always had two or three of these," he murmured softly. "They're sturdy pets for young children."
They met up with Rygel and Chiana at the transport and the Hynerion licked his lips--but the thief growled at him and slapped his hand.
"Try it, your eminence, and I'll find Hynerion suits my diet well," she hissed even as she petted John's prizes.
"Hrummph. I was just remembering trellas stew. I certainly would not--"
John let the babies out of the cage, kneeling on the floor and watching them tumble free. In seconds, everyone else was on the floor too, except Aeryn. She silently loaded the food supplies and other purchases, and got them headed back to Moya. Then she sat, and stared as D'Argo gently ruffled the fur along one little back and Chiana rolled an undoubtedly misbegotten coin for the other to chase.
"You've all gone mad," Aeryn murmured to herself in amazement. "Completely mad. They're helpless, and useless, and annoying."
John looked up with a smile. "Hey, Aeryn, sounds like me, huh? Except you forgot to add adorable."
"And insane. Completely--have any of you been eating too many of Zhaan's herbs?"
At the mention of her name, Zhaan looked into Aeryn's eyes and laughed gently. "No, Aeryn. It's just that they're like babies, designed to arouse protective and familial instincts. Well-designed," she added, smiling as the green baby wrapped a paw around one of her fingers.
"Yes, well, I must be lacking those instincts then. Now, would you mind putting them back so we can go?" Aeryn swiveled, staring at the wall with a carefully blank face as the rest of the crew reluctantly crawled off the floor and John gathered the babies back into their case.
"You should give yourself more credit," John whispered as he settled himself next to her, earning yet another glare. "You know you want to cuddle them--even D'Argo dropped the warrior shield long enough--"
"I do not have a 'warrior shield'," Aeryn whispered fiercely back. "I am a soldier."
"And soldiers don't have any sides that like to cuddle sweet little fluffy things?"
"Not this soldier, no. Now, leave me be."
John settled back, away from her, and remembered her hands sliding gently over the purple trellas. "Six arns," he whispered to the babies, who blinked their big eyes at him. "Six arns, and she'll be putty in your paws."
Aeryn lasted six arns, despite the fact that the purple trellas mewed at her whenever she came near, and blinked enticingly when she looked at him. She lasted twelve arns, even as the babies followed her on her rounds, pouncing each other and making little noises. She lasted almost sixteen arns, because John and D'Argo played with them on the terrace for a while. But then she went to fall into her bed--and found her cushions overtaken. The tiny fluffballs had managed to crawl up, spread themselves across most of her space, and lay there, lazily sighing and batting their lashes.
She could feel herself melting into goo even as she watched.
"Crichton, come get your babies," she ordered over the comm, turning so those big blue eyes were focused on her back, trying to steel herself against them.
"They have names, Aeryn," he said in reply, obviously close by. Startled, she turned to see him in the doorway, smiling at the trellases. "Come here, guys."
Aeryn rolled her eyes. "They have names," she repeated, tone ripe with acid. "Guys."
John just grinned and waved his hand at the babies. They tumbled end over end, rushing towards him, and he scooped them up very gently. Aeryn found herself pinned by three pairs of guileless eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.
You're a soldier, she reminded herself. Not a weakling, to be undone by sweet, friendly eyes. No matter whom they belonged to.
"Well, whatever," she muttered. "Just take them up to your quarters, please."
In reply, John strode over to her bed and dumped the babies on it, sitting down beside them. "Come over here," he told her, looking at her out of the corner of his eyes as he tickled the smaller fluffball. "Unless...you're scared. In which case, go ahead and stand over there, as far away from these half-pound hairballs as you need to be."
"I'm not scared," Aeryn muttered, deliberately relaxing her stance. "I'm just not impressed by them. Air doesn't ball, anyway."
"Hair balls, Aeryn. Little balls of hair, not air. Hit your translator." He picked up the larger trellas. "Well, then, what are you waiting for?" He held out the purple baby towards her with a faint smile in his eyes. "Come over here and be unimpressed."
She looked from his face to the baby's and back. And then, with a sigh, she stepped forward, gripping the creature by the nape of its neck and settling it in her lap, planning on not touching it any more than necessary.
Soldiers are not undone by fuzz, she reminded herself for the thousandth time since reboarding Moya after the bazaar.
But the baby had plans of its own. The minute she was settled, it scrambled up her chest. Automatically, Aeryn's hands rose to support it. It cooed softly and settled against her collarbone, breathing onto her neck. Aeryn looked at John, down at the baby. And then, hesitantly, she began to pet the small, bony back.
Sixteen arns, she thought with vague disgust. A lifetime of resistance to the cute and cuddly, undone in sixteen arns.
"Madness, huh?" Crichton murmured, cuddling his trellas. "I suppose." He paused for a long moment, and quiet fell between them, broken only by the babies' hums. Then abruptly, with his eyes glued to the creature he held, he continued. "I identify with them, Aeryn. In a lot of ways."
"Helpless, useless, annoying," she said, echoing her earlier comments, not knowing what else there was to say.
"And adorable. But yes, useless. Helpless, annoying. Incapable of thriving on my own." He waited while her eyes rose from the creature she cuddled and then he smiled at her, self-deprecating. "But you'll find I'm hardy, Aeryn. I might be fluffy, but I always...bounce back."
There was nothing she could say to that. She could feel something sharp-edged and honest between then, and she knew he was telling the truth. He'd been through things that might have driven a thousand others insane, and had held himself together with "fluffy" good nature. Part of her might deride that nature, but she knew deep down that he had handled himself admirably. She just...didn't know how to say it. A soldier's life was not conducive to easy admissions of that nature.
So she turned her eyes back to the baby. "Which is this?" she asked as she gently pulled its claws out of her shirt.
"Atlantic. This one's Pacific. They're kinda little for big names, and D'Argo says they don't get much bigger, but...those are oceans on Earth. A little touch of home." For a while, they sat in relatively easy silence, petting the babies to sleep. Then John sighed, shifting Pacific on his shoulder and edging closer. "I'll take 'em now, Aeryn. Go ahead and get some sleep."
Instinctively, Aeryn tightened her grip, before reluctantly passing the baby to him. "Good night," she murmured coolly, waiting for him to go.
"Not...just...yet," he whispered, and then his lips were sliding across hers, gentle as his hands on the babies, with all that warm nature and a hint of something more in the taste of them...
Surprised, she stared as he leaned back, smiling.
"Thank you," he said simply.
"For what?"
"For not being a soldier, just for a couple minutes." While she frowned over his words, John gathered the sleeping babies closer and rose. "See you in a few arns," he called over his shoulder as he strode from her chamber.
Alone, Aeryn passed her hand across her lips. And then she smiled.
John settled the babies in their basket, tucking them in with one of the cushions from his bed. Smiling as the little one stirred and yawned, he gave them a good night rub behind the ears, and slid beneath his covers. Then he turned onto his back, folding his arms beneath his head and smiling into the shadows of Moya.
"Definitely a softy," he murmured, and then he closed his eyes and chuckled. "Thank God."
THE END