Title: Johnny's Clown
Rating: PG
Warnings: Slight language
Characters: John/Aeryn
A/N: Set during season 1, just after Thank God It's Friday Again - J/A trying to one-up each other in a verbal sparring match. This fic was written waaay back in 2009 for the Terra Firma 5th Annual Beach Bash, with a circus theme. Figured I'd repost it to maybe poke myself into doing some writing again. The plot bunnies have started to breed, but I still need a kick in the proverbials...
Words: 896
Disclaimer:Henson and Company owns Farscape... *sigh*
"So, Crichton, how did you occupy yourself for three whole days?" John waggled his eyebrows suggestively, trying to hold back a smirk as Aeryn eyed him in disgust. "Actually, I don't think I want to know."
"I got to do a lot of thinking, Aeryn. Not much else I could've done whilst hiding from an enraged Luxan."
"And no talking all that time either... must be a record for you."
Touché, he thought, as a second wave of nostalgia washed over him since the 'incident' took place. "Nah, it just reminded me of how much I miss Earth; brought back some memories from the last time I went into hiding," he grinned. Knowing that he'd caught her attention for once, he decided to capitalise on his tenuous advantage, "It was the first and only time my dad tried to hire a clown for my birthday party, and I was so scared that I ran like hell and hid."
This could get interesting, but was it worth pursuing? Unwilling to encourage him, she opted for a noncommittal response, "You are very good at hiding."
Aeryn's attention returned to the food cubes in front of her. Admittedly the Erpman was impossible to understand, but it seemed to her that his three days of self-imposed solitary confinement (not to mention the events which followed) had finally taken their toll. She debated whether to press him any further, knowing full well that any answers he gave would only add to her confusion, whilst placing his mental state deep in fahrbot territory. But then they all knew that already.
Her curiosity sparred against her better judgement and emerged the victor. "What the frell is a clown?"
Surprised at the opening he had been given, John shook his head and tried to collect his thoughts. This could be fun. Admittedly, the end result of PK-baiting would most likely involve some sort of head injury to him, but she had given him the opening... "Yeah, I guess you Peacekeeper kids never had anything like that. Funny man, dressed in oversized clothes, silly wig, big red nose." He couldn't resist the urge to chuckle at Aeryn's chagrined expression. "They're entertainers, Aeryn."
"What would be the entertaining part? The part where the adults search for the child, or the part where the child runs away?" Two could play this game. Her lip curled victoriously, enjoying the sight of a now exasperated John scrabbling for lost ground. Just like every other sparring match, she thought.
"They're not meant to be scary; I just found them a little... intimidating. They're great at the circus though – they come into the ring between acts and play the fool until the next act is ready. Y'know, squirting water pistols at each other, that kind of thing. They're funny."
"And you're scared of them. Yes, I can see why that would be funny. His water pistol must have been terrifying." She was enjoying this far too much.
"C'mon Aeryn! Surely the Peacekeepers had some sort of entertainment for the kids, not even as a teaching aid?"
"Peacekeeper training is highly efficient," she huffed, "besides, why would an instructor be out of uniform?"
John could tell that her patience was wearing thin. How does one explain the concept of clowns to a Peacekeeper? Hell, how does one explain the concept of fun? Unsure of whether to risk agitating her any further, he decided to test the waters one last time.
"I don't suppose they have any circuses in these parts," he mused, watching and waiting. Reflecting on all the hours he'd spent fishing with his dad, he knew that this was the time for patience; he knew that she would bite...
"Neither do I," she deadpanned.
"How about this, then; if we dohappen to come across the Unchartered Territories' equivalent of a three-ring spectacular, I'll take you there. Just you and me, whaddaya think?" A dazzling smile spread across his face and he couldn't help but consider the possibility that she might actually say yes.
"I think you have a fixation for impossible odds, Crichton. It's a wonder your species survived at all."
He fought hard to keep a straight face. Don't spoil it. Stay cool. Just stay cool. "You still don't believe that we are related, do you?"
This conversation was turning decidedly Crichtonesque. Time, therefore, to put an end to the human's ramblings. "Now you're just being ridiculous," she scoffed.
Aeryn stood abruptly and began to walk away, only for John to start talking again. Frell, too slow, she chided herself. "Just you wait, Aeryn!"
"Fine, if it means you'll stop talking then I shall agree to the wager."
"Which one? Circuses in the UTs or the one about you being the distant relative of a lesser life form?" Now hewas enjoying this far too much.
She could not allow him to outmanoeuvre her so easily. "Both," she affirmed, "and as soon as you are proven wrong on each count, you will have to remain silent for a weeken." A warm, self-satisfied glow settled over her, confident that this match was comfortably sewn up, not that she was ever in any danger of losing, of course.
"It's a date," he winked as she shook her head and made a swift exit. He may be madder than a banta bug, but she would enjoy watching him eat his words.