prowler_pilot: (JA joy)
[personal profile] prowler_pilot
I seem to remember I owed [ profile] seramercury a John/Aeryn drabble. There it goes.

“Is it okay by your society’s moral standards to be strolling about half-naked?” Aeryn asked, in that accented English of hers, as she tugged uselessly at her bikini top.

“I don’t see the advantage of this. Except for ogling males, that is.” She shot a Peacekeeper glare to a boy staring intently at her tug-o-war with her floral patterned bikini. The kid’s head shot up self-consciously and he headed down to the beach café. John smiled to himself.

“On the beach, it is,” he steered her gently towards the wide expanse of white sand with a ghost hand on her elbow, “no constraints while you tan or take a swim.”
He quickly scanned the beach and found a quiet place directly in front of the sea. The season was not in full swing yet, and the place was not crowded.

“Tan?” Aeryn questioned again. She accepted the towel John gave her and spread it on the sand, mirroring his actions.

“If you stay in the sun long enough, your skin will produce more melanin and get darker. You need sunscreen for that, though. Too much exposure may be harmful.” He produced a bottle from an old beach bag, decorated with a faded underwater print, and showed it to her.

“There comes your self-destructive streak again,” Aeryn frowned, sitting down next to him. She straightened her legs out in front of her, crossing her ankles.

“I will never get this human penchant for things that reduce your chance of survival. Whoever thought that lying directly under a yellow dwarf at such a short distance was a good idea?”

John sighed and tossed the bottle aside.
“Never was much of a tan fan myself.” He muttered under his breath.
Even after four years, there was still a slight tone of contempt for the human race in Aeryn’s tone, and he had to bit back a sharp remark.

“What else can you do at the beach, except exposing yourself to harmful radiation?” She looked around herself discreetly, scrutinizing the people laying on their mats, dozing or reading. Her eyes fell on a group of young humans playing soccer on the sand, laughing as they fought over the ball. A particularly intense move resulted in two of the kids falling face down on the sand and more laughter. An inquisitive eyebrow arched into her forehead.

“You can play sports. Soccer, or volleyball, or…”

“I like rugby.” She smiled sheepishly.

“Well, that might be a little too rough—“ He was halfway through his answer when he caught sight of the lopsided grin on her face. He smiled back, a little surprised and secretly very happy that she was willing to go along with his little plan of showing her daily life on Earth.

She wiped beads of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.
“It’s getting a little too hot for me here,” she whispered, referring to the Sebacean lack of tolerance for high temperatures.

“We could go swimming, that should cool you down pretty nicely.” He suggested.
She nodded and pushed herself up, suddenly eager.

“Sounds great. I used to spend hours working out in the pool during Peacekeeper training. I bet I can swim twice as fast as you.”

He scrambled off the towel and on the hot sand, following her. “This is not a race.”

She turned around even as she jogged backwards into the clear sea water.
“I’ll have you to eat my soil.” She spun around again and dived in gracefully.

“It’s “eat my DUST”, and this is NOT a race.”

He dived in after her, cursing silently at the shock when the cool water came in contact with his overheated body. As he started swimming, he realized that he would not be able to keep up with Aeryn.
She emerged a few meters ahead of him, flicking away a lock of raven black that was sticking to her forehead, and treaded water as she waited for him to catch up, her head cocked to the side and her trademark smug grin plastered on her face.

“You’re so dead, Crichton.”
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April 2017


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