TVU 504W: Aeryn Sun’s Summer Vacation (G) Farscape fic
Written for TVU challenge 504W, summer vacation.
Setting: Farscape, some years post-PKW (yes, I know, you were expecting a S3/4 story with a title like that). Nothing else to warn of.
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money made.
The holiday couldn’t come soon enough. Aeryn faltered at the entrance to the set of rooms that she shared with John Crichton and their two offspring. She sighed as she seriously considered doing a 180 degree turn and walking back the way she had just come. Back to her Prowler, there to blast off into space on her own. After a few microts steeling her resolve, shaking her head slowly, she stepped deeper inside, her practical gaze taking in the piles of clothes, equipment and other ephemera now cluttering the family room. Was there anything that the family owned that one or other of them didn’t regard as essential to take with them on holiday?
Aeryn turned her head at the sound of voices raised in heated disagreement. It seemed to be coming from one of the bed chambers that led off the central room. Silent, stealthy steps took her to the doorway leading to D’Argo’s bed chamber. Inside, John was at variance with D’Argo and Joolie, their teenaged children. It seemed that Joolie was whining about why it was vital to add yet more books and musical instruments to the generous pile already heaped behind Aeryn. D’Argo, on the other hand, seemed to be maintaining a parallel dispute with his father about something called ‘budgie smugglers’, whether they were brown, green or some other colour and whether they were even suitable or decent in the first place.
Aeryn could feel the first twinges of a headache coming on. Perhaps she should go looking for a Zeccan plant? And maybe a nice, quiet, hidden planet to chew it on?
It was always the same when the Sun-Crichton family went on holiday: weeks of arguments and stress, a crescendo of anguish and misery which usually peaked on the day of departure. It was, of course, John and the offspring who were always responsible - it must be one of those unfathomable Ooman things. Aeryn found it all rather peculiar, doubly so as John always insisted that holidays were about relaxation and fun.
She cleared her throat. All eyes turned to her as arguments died mid-sentence. “John, can you take D’Argo and Joolie to the central chamber for something to eat? I’ll get everything loaded on the pod.”
“But…” someone unwisely began to protest. An arched eyebrow and flaring nostrils combined with one of her best PK-glares soon silenced them.
“Pilot, I need you to arrange to move some things from our quarters,” Aeryn began to comm as her family fled in search of their last meal.
‘~’
“Aeryn!?” She heard John’s strained, high pitched voice screaming from the rear of the pod. He sounded like they’d just been attacked by some malevolent critter. “Where’s all the luggage!?” John stormed through to stand in front of her as she piloted the pod. He had his hands on his hips and an accusatory frown on his face. D’Argo and Joolie followed, standing on either side of their father, united in their support as they stared at her with open-mouthed expressions of shocked horror.
“Luggage!?” Aeryn grinned back at them and affected her best impression of a Mexican accent. “We don’t need no stinking luggage…” Which wasn’t, of course, completely true. There was a single bag of essentials for the whole family, which she had secretly stashed in one of the pod’s storage lockers before setting out. But otherwise on this holiday, Aeryn Sun had resolved, her family was going to concentrate on what was important: one of those things being company and the other getting away from it all, every last bit of it.
The end
Setting: Farscape, some years post-PKW (yes, I know, you were expecting a S3/4 story with a title like that). Nothing else to warn of.
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money made.
The holiday couldn’t come soon enough. Aeryn faltered at the entrance to the set of rooms that she shared with John Crichton and their two offspring. She sighed as she seriously considered doing a 180 degree turn and walking back the way she had just come. Back to her Prowler, there to blast off into space on her own. After a few microts steeling her resolve, shaking her head slowly, she stepped deeper inside, her practical gaze taking in the piles of clothes, equipment and other ephemera now cluttering the family room. Was there anything that the family owned that one or other of them didn’t regard as essential to take with them on holiday?
Aeryn turned her head at the sound of voices raised in heated disagreement. It seemed to be coming from one of the bed chambers that led off the central room. Silent, stealthy steps took her to the doorway leading to D’Argo’s bed chamber. Inside, John was at variance with D’Argo and Joolie, their teenaged children. It seemed that Joolie was whining about why it was vital to add yet more books and musical instruments to the generous pile already heaped behind Aeryn. D’Argo, on the other hand, seemed to be maintaining a parallel dispute with his father about something called ‘budgie smugglers’, whether they were brown, green or some other colour and whether they were even suitable or decent in the first place.
Aeryn could feel the first twinges of a headache coming on. Perhaps she should go looking for a Zeccan plant? And maybe a nice, quiet, hidden planet to chew it on?
It was always the same when the Sun-Crichton family went on holiday: weeks of arguments and stress, a crescendo of anguish and misery which usually peaked on the day of departure. It was, of course, John and the offspring who were always responsible - it must be one of those unfathomable Ooman things. Aeryn found it all rather peculiar, doubly so as John always insisted that holidays were about relaxation and fun.
She cleared her throat. All eyes turned to her as arguments died mid-sentence. “John, can you take D’Argo and Joolie to the central chamber for something to eat? I’ll get everything loaded on the pod.”
“But…” someone unwisely began to protest. An arched eyebrow and flaring nostrils combined with one of her best PK-glares soon silenced them.
“Pilot, I need you to arrange to move some things from our quarters,” Aeryn began to comm as her family fled in search of their last meal.
‘~’
“Aeryn!?” She heard John’s strained, high pitched voice screaming from the rear of the pod. He sounded like they’d just been attacked by some malevolent critter. “Where’s all the luggage!?” John stormed through to stand in front of her as she piloted the pod. He had his hands on his hips and an accusatory frown on his face. D’Argo and Joolie followed, standing on either side of their father, united in their support as they stared at her with open-mouthed expressions of shocked horror.
“Luggage!?” Aeryn grinned back at them and affected her best impression of a Mexican accent. “We don’t need no stinking luggage…” Which wasn’t, of course, completely true. There was a single bag of essentials for the whole family, which she had secretly stashed in one of the pod’s storage lockers before setting out. But otherwise on this holiday, Aeryn Sun had resolved, her family was going to concentrate on what was important: one of those things being company and the other getting away from it all, every last bit of it.
The end