The Return of Mr Jingles (PG)
I would like to acknowledge an idea blatantly stolen borrowed from Don Vorleone's excellent fic, We Meet Again. The idea which I purloined may or may not become apparent to you, dear reader. No matter.
Setting, warnings and Spoilers: About a cycle post-PKW, so no real spoilers. Fluff, so no real warnings necessary, either. PG for very mild sexual references.
Thanks: To Vinegardog for beta-ing. If any part of this is still confusing, then that is all my fault.
Word count: 4410
Disclaimer: Still not mine, still no money made.
The Return of Mr Jingles
John was sure that he had never before encountered such an enormous bowl of ice cream. It was literally big enough to go swimming in, which was, in fact, exactly what he was doing. Part of his mind was telling him that ice cream was meant to be cold, and too solid to swim through to boot, but most of his mind didn't seem to care that much, so long as the giant chocolate sharks and octopi didn't come to life and start chasing him. He decided to turn over and start doing the backstroke. This was just as well, because at that moment Aeryn, hand in hand with baby D'Argo, seemed to do a bomb-dive into the giant dessert from somewhere unexplained, their trajectory bringing them into the bowl right next to his head and sending waves of ice cream everywhere. Aeryn was merrily singing something at the top of her voice as she splashed into the bowl, something vaguely Christmas-y, despite her failing to perfect either the words or the tune.
"When I said I wanted you and Dee to join me in a bowl of ice cream, this wasn't what I had in mind!" John protested as Aeryn and D'Argo began to gleefully splash around. Indeed, something was most certainly not quite right here, his deep subconscious informed him sternly as his slightly more conscious mind struggled with the transition from dreaming to reality.
"Harsh, the harried angles sing!" He heard Aeryn caterwaul. John found himself physically bumped from sleep and almost into the air as his wife and infant son bounced enthusiastically onto the matrimonial bed, her singing, him gurgling and whooping along excitedly.
"Urgh?" John enquired, vainly trying to swim through the bed sheets to the surface as he woke up. The sheets had tasted so much better as ice cream, but he was glad he had not eaten any of the giant marshmallows in his dream. He caught sight of the timepiece beside the bed - it was over an arn before they would normally have woken up! What the frell was going on? Were they under attack? He certainly felt as though he was.
"Merry Krissmus!" Aeryn shouted at him, almost exploding with manic enthusiasm. John rubbed his eyes to check they were functioning properly. He blinked hard and rubbed them again as Aeryn shuffled herself and their son closer across the bed. No, he was definitely awake now and he definitely wasn't imagining things.
Aeryn looked gorgeous, as ever, although she was somewhat peculiarly dressed for her, like something out of one of his more… ahem… interesting dreams. Her outfit, comprising scarlet knee length boots, a scarlet leather miniskirt and a matching scarlet leather… well, bra was pretty much the only word for it, looked like they might have been left behind by Sikozu. The outfit was trimmed with fur that John reckoned had been recycled from some old outfits of Chiana's. John imagined that Aeryn thought that the outfit looked 'Christmas-y'. Whilst the little appendage agreed that she did indeed look rather fetching, and thoroughly appreciated her efforts, the big appendage pointed out that, what with baby D'Argo being wide awake on the bed with them, he had better clear all such thoughts from his mind post-haste. 'Maybe later?' The little appendage enquired hopefully before conceding defeat for now and slinking back off to sleep.
"Wake up, John! D'Argo wants to open his presents!" Aeryn commanded, her strident demand softened by the enormous, almost child-like grin lighting up her face. John was confused. He knew it was coming up to Christmas, but he hadn't made any particular arrangements and he hadn't been aware that Aeryn had, either. Still, looking at the expression on both Aeryn and D'Argo's faces, and not forgetting the 'hot-leather-Santa' outfit that she was wearing, it was swiftly becoming clear to him that his wife had secretly laid plans to mark the day. As the last vestiges of his initial surprise, his ensuing lust and of course his sleepiness ebbed away he decided to play along and make the most of it. He cupped her face in his hands and pulled her in closer for a long, lingering kiss on the lips. She responded in kind, but then before it could deepen and get out of hand a shriek of excitement from D'Argo reminded them both of their would-be audience.
"You look…. Umm…. Great… Special…" John backed off a little and licked his lips, trying to make the most of her taste.
"It's D'Argo's first Krissmus." Aeryn explained pulling D'Argo onto her lap and grinning like a maniac. "I wanted it to be memorable," So far she had certainly managed that, for both of them. "I want him to have a traditional Earth Krissmus." She stated emphatically. "I have a plan!" Her eyes twinkled and yet, despite her enthusiasm, he almost flinched, her expression and words briefly reminding him of a long ago conversation about Tavleks. He pushed the memory of how that previous plan had unfolded aside and cast his gaze lasciviously over her once more, pausing only to feel grateful that she hadn't attempted to fashion a false, white beard out of anything. Anything like animal fur, for instance. He imagined that Mr Jingles, who he caught sight of lurking at the foot of the bed, would have probably agreed with him.
Mr Jingles was the family pet, acquired a few monens earlier. He was a Maynkern, a species of pseudo-feline which seemed to be comprised almost entirely of tooth and fur, and, apparently, just like a regular Earth moggie, not much in the way of brain. To John's eyes he seemed to be half domestic cat, half ferret and wholly trouble. D'Argo adored him.
"If Chiana and Rygel had been aboard, I'd have made them dress up as shelves." Aeryn remarked chewing on her bottom lip, a distant look in her eyes.
John frowned for a moment, trying to work out what she meant by that last remark. Then realisation dawned. "That's elves, Aeryn." Her expression now made sense to him: he didn't think she was kidding about making the duo dress up. She might even have employed threats of violence to get her way. It seemed that Chiana and Rygel had made a lucky escape. Or maybe they had known something was afoot when they had taken leave of Moya last weeken. The devious little….
"Whatever." She shrugged one shoulder, her face momentarily betraying a flash of irritation or frustration, either that he had corrected her or that her would-be elves had escaped. Maybe both. "So, are you getting out of that bed under your own steam or do I have to…?" Her sternness was swept away by a wicked grin as she leant in, fingers wriggling with intent to tickle. D'Argo knew what those fingers meant and whooped in encouragement of his mother.
"OK! OK! I'm coming! Give me a microt!" John protested, desperate to head off a savage early-morning tickling. He slipped out from under the sheet, his eyes already searching for clothes which he could quickly don.
"Good. About time." As John struggled with his trousers, Aeryn stood up from the bed and hoisted D'Argo up on to one hip. She turned her face to D'Argo. "You see that wobbly pink creature there, hopping around on one foot? That's your father…" D'Argo screeched then cackled as if in disbelief of such a preposterous notion. "I know, ridiculous, isn't it?"
"You're perfect, you know that?" John winked and blew her a kiss.
"Mmmhm. That would be the superior genetics and intensive, lifelong training." She teased as John, failing to successfully pass his foot through his trouser leg and thrown off-balance by Mr Jingles rubbing up against his other leg, tumbled shoulder first back onto the bed.
D'Argo whooped in appreciation of John's display of acrobatics.
"Don't ever change." He smiled up at her, rolling over onto his back and exploiting his position to pull his trousers up.
"But this is hardly the most suitable clothing for…" she began to frown, pointing to herself with her free hand.
"You know what I mean," he grinned, sitting up and quickly poking his head and arms through the holes of a T-shirt.
"Oh. Well, why would I ever want to do a thing like that?" She winked and grinned back, swinging D'Argo on her hip to entertain him further. "Anyway, I thought you said I was perfect?"
'~'
John couldn't decide who was more amazed by the overnight transformation of the centre chamber: He or D'Argo. D'Argo's eyes and mouth were wide with marvelling at the festive bunting (John chose to ignore the fact that it was clearly Peacekeeper in origin), the tree and most of all the pile of presents beneath. John's brain, however, was astounded that Aeryn had laid all of this on and presumably also arranged for the DRDs to set it all up whilst he slept, entirely without him having the slightest clue regarding what was going on.
"Come on John, we've got presents to open!" Aeryn barked commandingly over her shoulder from next to the tree as she bounced on the balls of her feet, her words rousing him from his reverie. John entered, slumped into a nearby seat and set D'Argo on the floor. It didn't look like he was going to get coffee before the great present-opening. The sacrifices he was willing to make to keep his family happy!
The first few presents were for D'Argo, and were not entirely unpredictable: they were the sort of things they might have got for him anyway, but he seemed to be enjoying the whole Christmas present experience regardless. New toys were always appreciated, doubly so if getting them was such an exciting affair in itself.
"Here, this is for you," Aeryn remarked, abruptly thrusting something about the size and shape of a large atlas towards John. John grinned and took it from her. Yeah, it definitely felt like a book. But if it was, where had she got such a thing out here, and what sort of book might it be? Revelling in the moment, trying to drag it out for as long as possible, he ran his hands over the package, feeling for more clues.
"Aren't you going to open it?" Aeryn enquired, shuffling towards him on her knees.
John nodded and made a small tear at one corner of the wrapping and gently tore it open, trying to preserve as much of the precious paper as possible.
It WAS a book. And a strangely familiar looking one at that, despite having no decoration or title on its plain brown cover. John turned it over in his hands and opened it.
"Bare arsed baby pictures…" Aeryn enunciated very carefully in English. John looked up, surprised, to find her staring at him with an excited, lopsided grin. He turned another page... she wasn't kidding! But where? How?
"Olivia put it together for me. As a surprise for you. Look, it's got all sorts of pictures…." She intimated, squeezing onto the chair beside him and nudging him with her hip to give her more room as together they turned through the pages in the photo album.
'~'
"C'mon kiddo, we'd better go check on mommy," John told D'Argo as the end credits to The Muppet Christmas Carol began to roll. The video had been one of the more surprising presents under the tree that morning: it had been wrapped in obviously baby-centric, Earth wrapping paper and the tag on it had read "Lots of Love and Hugs, From Aunty Olivia" - written in what was clearly his sister's own handwriting. John had pondered what all of that might have meant every few minutes throughout the morning, and had resolved to talk with Aeryn about it later, once the day's celebrations were over. What did Olivia know, and how, he determined to find out?
After they had opened the video, Aeryn had uncharacteristically insisted that she would be cooking dinner today, and had further insisted that John take D'Argo to watch the new movie in their quarters whilst she did so. Although Aeryn had never before shown much interest or aptitude for cooking, it had seemed really important to her to cook this meal, so John had conceded to her request. But now, over and arn and a half later, his concerns at not having heard from her since had outgrown his desire, nay, fearfulness about leaving her to it.
A terrible sight greeted him as he entered the centre chamber. Aeryn, flustered but determined, a huge knife in one hand, a huge fork in the other, was setting about the cremated carcass of an unfortunate avian-like animal called a chilock.
"It's frelling ruined." Aeryn muttered darkly, flashing a scowl his way. "Burnt. I should have just have let you do it."
John stepped around the table, and, having first gently relieved her of the carving implements and set them down, he took her shoulders in his hands and turned her to face him.
"S'okay, babe. It's just well-done that's all." He saw a flash of something, maybe anger, in her eyes at that remark, so he swiftly continued. "And I like it well-done."
"I… it's just…" John smiled at her, encouraging her to speak her mind, but she seemed lost for more words.
"Don't worry. Well-done is traditional at Christmas."
"It is?" she beamed, his words seemed to have miraculously made her feel much better about the state of the chilock. He was halfway through nodding when suddenly she spun from his grip, lunging towards the semi-cremated avian. From the corner of his eye John caught sight of a flash of fur, arcing from the floor, up across the platter of chilock meat and then back down to the floor again.
Aeryn shouted something after the retreating mass of fur, the meaning of which the translator microbes discretely kept to themselves, and barged past him. John spun on his heel in time to see Aeryn lunging after the rapidly departing, enormously bushed tail of Mr Jingles as he sought refuge in a maintenance duct to enjoy his plunder.
"That frelling Maynkern!" Aeryn cursed after their household pet.
"Mangy, more like it!" John raged in support of his wife's fury. "If the stupid critter had only waited he could have had…"
"So you DO think I ruined the chilock, if you think all it is good for is feeding the pet!?" Aeryn spun about, turning her ire on John
"No babe! No! Just no! Look, why don't you carry on dishing-up, and I'll try and get him out of there?" John pointed to the duct where Mr Jingles had now taken refuge.
Aeryn pouted and then acceded to his suggestion, whilst D'Argo gurgled loudly and at length, enjoying the doubly ridiculous sights of his mother preparing a meal and his father down on all fours, sticking his eema in the air and grunting at the wall.
'~'
"He won't…. Frelling… Come out!" John enunciated carefully, crawling back slightly from the access duct and wiping the small amount of blood from the spider web of tiny cuts which now covered his hand and forearm like a lace glove, mostly courtesy of Mr Jingles' claws. He looked up from his kneeling position on the floor of the centre chamber to stare accusingly at Aeryn and instantly regretted it. She had definitely been pulling out all of the stops to give little D'Argo what she obviously thought was a traditional Christmas experience. But now she was biting on her lip again. She wasn't crying: Aeryn didn't cry often or over minor things, but he knew her well enough to realise that she was definitely blaming herself for what she would see as another frell-up in the military execution of her plans for today.
John pushed himself up to his feet and spread his arms expansively. "C'mere," he invited her into a hug with a smile. Reluctantly at first, but with increasing enthusiasm, Aeryn complied, resting her chin on his shoulder whilst one of his arms curled up her back to allow him to cup and then stroke the back of her head.
His tormentor gone and occupied elsewhere, Mr Jingles finally decided he'd had enough of hiding in the maintenance duct and made a run for it. Unfortunately, in the wild, Maynkerns spent a lot of their time living in trees, so he saw the Christmas tree as a safe refuge. Doubly unfortunately, this particular tree wasn't as well-rooted as those that Mr Jingles' wild relatives were used to. The weight of an adult male Maynkern, hitting it at full speed with its claws extended was more than the small frame holding it upright could take.
"Noooo!" John heard himself scream. He saw his hand as though it were in slow motion, reaching out towards the tree even as it began to topple. He saw Aeryn's right hand move impulsively towards her thigh, and, luckily for Mr Jingles, failing to find its accustomed pulse pistol there.
There was a crash and a feline yowl, followed by a fast-moving, large, rug-like object trailing decorations in its wake as it shimmied through the door and out into the corridor at an unprecedented speed.
D'Argo screeched with joy and clapped his hands at the latest entertaining spectacle.
"Frell!" John heard Aeryn spit with some vehemence. She looked like she was about to erupt. Or implode. He turned, took her by the shoulders and gently guided her to her seat at the gaudily decorated meal table.
"It's OK, babe. These things happen at Christmas. This is all pretty tame…"
"Tame? The frelling Maynkern has stolen half our meal and knocked the tree over…"
"It's nothing, babe, honest. Trust me. Stuff like this? It's traditional." He suppressed a half smile at the thought of how true that was then rubbed his lip with his thumb, wondering how to cheer her up as his eyes surveyed the wreckage of the tree. He hardly wanted to mention that Christmas was traditionally also the time for massive family arguments and marital discord. Better stick to safer ground, like attacking space monsters. "After all, remember how last Christmas turned out…"
Aeryn's eyes widened and her jaw dropped, broadcasting to John that she did indeed remember how last year had turned out - Jack's house in ruins and a dead alien assassin blasted all over the sitting room.
"And you do this every year anyway?" She asked in astonishment, shaking her head and not bothering to hide her emotions. "Humans are even crazier than I'd thought!"
'~'
They made it through Christmas dinner without further disaster, whereupon Aeryn surprised John once again by suggesting that they 'go for a drive' in his module.
"It is traditional, isn't it?" she asked as she set about stacking the dishes.
"Well, not really, I mean some people do, but not everyone. Some people go for a walk, some watch a movie, some get drunk... Whatever they enjoy doing…." John could see her pondering that, her ample brows knotted in thought.
"Well, you and I both enjoy flying," she paused stacking the dishes and, half-empty serving bowl in hand, faced him. "And D'Argo enjoys going for rides and you watched a movie this morning and…."
"OK, OK, OK. A 'drive' it is." John conceded, putting down his three-quarters empty glass of something alcoholic.
"Good. A mother is always right." She stated solemnly setting one empty bowl inside another.
A thought occurred to John's booze-and-food-addled mind. "Why the module? I thought you thought it was a useless piece of d…"
"It is," she nodded once, earnestly, cutting off his expletive. "But today is all about teaching D'Argo about Earth, and how is he supposed to learn how primitive your module is if he never gets to fly in it?"
"I resemble that remark….."
"And I am driving." She insisted, nodding at his hand, the one wrapped around the glass, as she clattered another couple of dishes together. "Even if I wasn't the better pilot, you've drunk way too much of that stuff…."
"But you never said….!" John protested, meaning that he wouldn't have drunk so much if he'd have known about her plan. But he knew that he had already lost the argument.
'~'
"I've got one last present for you. But you've got to put this blindfold on first." Before he could even vocalise a protest she somehow magicked a strip of fabric out of somewhere on her skimpy red outfit. "And no peeking!"
John shrugged and allowed Aeryn to blindfold him. He'd had plenty of opportunity to peek at her exquisitely displayed flesh in the last few arns anyway. Besides, like so much of today, he suspected that she had made meticulous plans which, in her mind, would be incomplete if he didn't submit to her demands. She made a typically efficient job of blindfolding him - when she was done, he really couldn't see a thing. After she had finished she returned to the controls of the module and began gleefully mangling the words to Jingle Bells.
"Jingles mells, jingles mells, jingles hauls away!"
John manfully resisted the urge to comment on her singing.
Despite the blindfold John could sense the module being manoeuvred fairly heavily for about a quarter of an arn. He wondered where they were going: he couldn't remember them being near any interesting planetary bodies when they set out from Moya. Whatever they were doing, D'Argo seemed to be loving it. He was whooping and giggling in synchrony with some of the more noticeable manoeuvres.
"Are we there yet?" John asked, his curiosity finally overcoming his patience and wisdom.
"No!" Aeryn replied with unarguable finality. "And don't you dare peek." She insisted in a tone that brooked no discussion, just in case her message had not been entirely clear.
Another few dozen microts passed. John could hear the module's repulsors firing - he reckoned they might be coming in to land now. It wouldn't be long before Aeryn's surprise would be revealed.
Aeryn popped the module's canopy open and swatted his hand away from his face as he tried to remove the blindfold.
"Not yet!" She guided him out of the cockpit and onto the ground.
"John, do you remember that time we were on the false Earth?"
"Uh-huh." The air outside the module was pleasant - not too warm, not too cold. It felt fresh and natural. He wrinkled his brow, trying to pin down vaguely familiar smells and sounds from their surroundings. He reckoned they were on a planet, or something very much like one.
"And you know that I met the ancient Jack again on Dam Ba Da?"
"Aeryn, where are you going with this?" John was a little annoyed at her for bringing up the time when she'd gone off with the OTHER him. Hadn't they both had enough distress about those events? But then he caught himself – even though she might be fixated on a traditional Earth Christmas, he didn't seriously think that went as far as wanting to have an argument with him.
"Well, ever since you lost the, you know, the wormhole knowledge, well… I've started to realise that maybe the ancient Jack had a back-up plan. A Plan B, as you might say."
"Huh?"
"Me. I know how to negotiate wormholes. He gave me the knowledge, too," she pronounced, her voice announcing how proud she was of what she'd done with the knowledge. Or maybe, unlike him, not done with it.
She took off his blindfold. They were on a hospitable-looking planet at twilight. But that was almost incidental: what was more striking to John was that they appeared to be standing in front of his father's house.
"Why would he…?" John began, still stuck on the idea that the ancients had gifted Aeryn with wormhole knowledge, unable yet to process where they seemed to be now.
"As a back up? In case something happened to you? In case you couldn't finish the displacement engine? How the frell would I know?" She shrugged, obviously uncomfortable with discussing some of those events in more detail. "But now I know that I have the knowledge, I thought it would be nice to use it to let us visit Earth. The real Earth."
"Earth?" There was a Christmas wreath hanging on the new-looking front door and fairy lights were twinkling on a tree in the front yard. More, stronger lighting spilled its warmth through several windows - it was clear from the lights and from the cars in the driveway that a number of people were at home. "So, are you saying this is the real deal?
"Mmhmm. That's what I said just now, John. Pay attention."
John tore his gaze away from the house to smile at Aeryn. Standing there on his dad's drive, bossing him about in her sexy santa outfit and with D'Argo perched on her hip, he thought that she had never looked hotter.
"I hate to think what effect your outfit is going to have on poor Bobby. Or his dad." John leered at her. She snorted her indifference to their likely reactions.
"I wanted to land us on the roof and for us to go down the chimney," she explained earnestly. "I know it's traditional, but that just didn't seem feasible. The frelling module would have slid off and the chimney wasn't wide enough, so I suppose we'll just have to use the door…"
Aeryn paused and adjusted her grip on D'Argo, who wriggled on her hip, trying to reach out for the pretty lights sparkling in the living room window. Now that the situation was starting to really sink in John was, for once, speechless.
"I suppose I could have brought Mr Jingles and then we could have dropped him down the chimney. That would have been traditional wouldn't it?" She continued, vocalising her train of thought.
"So we really are….?" John ignored her remarks about the Maynkern, although, after events earlier that day, the mental image they conjured up was strangely satisfying.
"Yes, John." She sighed nodded leaning in towards him. "After all, it is traditional to visit family, isn't it?" She whispered into the stunned human's ear before kissing him on the cheek. "Merry frelling Christmas," she whispered through her radiant smile.
The end