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crack_van2007-07-30 08:14 pm
simplystars.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2007-07-30 08:14 pm
Heart Like a Wheel Means Racecar Dreams by Thea (NC-17)
This is my last rec for July. It's been a blast and I'm chuffed to see that others have signed up to continue reccing Farscape here at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
crack_van! ::leaves the keys in the ignition::
Fandom: FARSCAPE
Pairing: Aeryn Sun/John Crichton
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thassalia
Author Website: n/a; most Farscape fic can be found here at Leviathan
Why this must be read:
Ben Browder & Claudia Black have stated (though woe! I forget where exactly - chat? or DVD commentary? ::headdesks::) that they played John & Aeryn from mid/late second season and onward as if the pair were intimately involved, which is certainly no stretch given Aeryn's suggestive reply to John at the end of 2.09 Out of Their Minds. But Aeryn and John are still learning about each other, tip-toeing around and screwing up and and neither of them makes it easy on the other, ever.
Thea writes John/Aeryn with just the right mix of snark and sensitivity, angst and hope and an all-encompassing hotness that will leave you weak in the knees. So when she summarizes Heart Like a Wheel Means Racecar Dreams as "Porn. Just porn. And valentines." you *think* you know exactly what you're going to get - and you do get it, in spades, but so much more than you could have hoped for, too.
***
Four slim silver cylinders wink up at her and she picks them up, studying them.
"New and improved, the latest in chakkan oil technology," John says and she does grin then, touching her fingertip to the entrance of the canister. "Dude was having a sale. They're refillable and if they don't work with our model of gun, well, they're still kinda pretty."
Turning the cylinder over in her hand, she can see light and color reflected in its surface, can see traces of John's vest, his mishmash of a uniform, her own dark hair and the muted color of the table.
She tilts her head to face him, ready to offer honest gratitude, and stills at the look on his face. It's … inscrutable, his mouth tilted up and eyes… distracted.
"What?" she asks, instead of the thank you she'd meant. He shakes his head, tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear.
"Just…," he pauses then shrugs and Aeryn catches D'Argo out of the corner of her eye.
He's watching John like he sees something she can't, tension running through his body. But then John smiles, brushes his fingers against her bare arm and hops off the table. "Little differences sometimes kick you in the ass."
He moves to the counter, fumbles underneath it looking for something and fails to find it, braces his hands against the counter and kind of rocks on his heels. "It gets old after awhile, the sheer total fucking lack of familiarity."
Aeryn blinks, looks quickly at D'Argo who shrugs his shoulders in a "Don't look at me, I don't have a frelling clue" shrug. She scowls. He'd seen … something, denying it now to himself and she wants to punch him. Wants some frelling help here. But John keeps going, and all she's got room for in the scope of her attention is him.
"Girl'd rather have ammo cases than flowers, and I get that. It's an adjustment, but it's cool. But sometimes, I'd like to KNOW I'm on the right mark, you know? Know whether it's a pet or produce, whether I'm watching C-SPAN or porn, having sex or fixing the speedster, saying hello or fuck you very much."
"Did something happen…" she starts to say sharply, and John waves her off. "Nothing weirder than usual. Lots of pink down there. Made me think of Valentine's Day. Hearts and flowers and Hallmark." He hums softly to himself and it sounds to Aeryn like you've got to hide your love awaaaay. "Just processing my skewed new reality a little more than normal," he says and smiles again at her.
The sheen has gone off the gift and she can feel blood throb in her temples as her head screams in pain.
John is halfway out the door when he turns, comes striding back with the whole force of his personality, coming right up to her, sliding his hand through her hair to cradle her neck and then bringing his mouth to hers. The kiss is an utter surprise, hot and wet and brutal and she grabs at his vest, kissing him back for all of her surprise until he pulls back, breath hot against her cheek.
"What the frell was that?" D'Argo barks out, voice far, far too amused.
John's voice is low, lacking any of the amused adrenaline she'd have expected. "Sometimes," he says, and it is directed at her, "you've gotta make your own reality."
He lets her go and she feels his absence immediately, looks back down at the cartridges instead of watching him walk out the door.
D'Argo waits for a few 100 microts, finishes the food cubes, then says, "Are you going to do something about that?"
Aeryn thinks about it, wraps the cylinders back up in the silk and tucks them into her own utility pouch. "Yes," she says. "I am."
Heart Like a Wheel Means Racecar Dreams
crack_van! ::leaves the keys in the ignition::Fandom: FARSCAPE
Pairing: Aeryn Sun/John Crichton
Author on LJ:
thassaliaAuthor Website: n/a; most Farscape fic can be found here at Leviathan
Why this must be read:
Ben Browder & Claudia Black have stated (though woe! I forget where exactly - chat? or DVD commentary? ::headdesks::) that they played John & Aeryn from mid/late second season and onward as if the pair were intimately involved, which is certainly no stretch given Aeryn's suggestive reply to John at the end of 2.09 Out of Their Minds. But Aeryn and John are still learning about each other, tip-toeing around and screwing up and and neither of them makes it easy on the other, ever.
Thea writes John/Aeryn with just the right mix of snark and sensitivity, angst and hope and an all-encompassing hotness that will leave you weak in the knees. So when she summarizes Heart Like a Wheel Means Racecar Dreams as "Porn. Just porn. And valentines." you *think* you know exactly what you're going to get - and you do get it, in spades, but so much more than you could have hoped for, too.
***
Four slim silver cylinders wink up at her and she picks them up, studying them.
"New and improved, the latest in chakkan oil technology," John says and she does grin then, touching her fingertip to the entrance of the canister. "Dude was having a sale. They're refillable and if they don't work with our model of gun, well, they're still kinda pretty."
Turning the cylinder over in her hand, she can see light and color reflected in its surface, can see traces of John's vest, his mishmash of a uniform, her own dark hair and the muted color of the table.
She tilts her head to face him, ready to offer honest gratitude, and stills at the look on his face. It's … inscrutable, his mouth tilted up and eyes… distracted.
"What?" she asks, instead of the thank you she'd meant. He shakes his head, tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear.
"Just…," he pauses then shrugs and Aeryn catches D'Argo out of the corner of her eye.
He's watching John like he sees something she can't, tension running through his body. But then John smiles, brushes his fingers against her bare arm and hops off the table. "Little differences sometimes kick you in the ass."
He moves to the counter, fumbles underneath it looking for something and fails to find it, braces his hands against the counter and kind of rocks on his heels. "It gets old after awhile, the sheer total fucking lack of familiarity."
Aeryn blinks, looks quickly at D'Argo who shrugs his shoulders in a "Don't look at me, I don't have a frelling clue" shrug. She scowls. He'd seen … something, denying it now to himself and she wants to punch him. Wants some frelling help here. But John keeps going, and all she's got room for in the scope of her attention is him.
"Girl'd rather have ammo cases than flowers, and I get that. It's an adjustment, but it's cool. But sometimes, I'd like to KNOW I'm on the right mark, you know? Know whether it's a pet or produce, whether I'm watching C-SPAN or porn, having sex or fixing the speedster, saying hello or fuck you very much."
"Did something happen…" she starts to say sharply, and John waves her off. "Nothing weirder than usual. Lots of pink down there. Made me think of Valentine's Day. Hearts and flowers and Hallmark." He hums softly to himself and it sounds to Aeryn like you've got to hide your love awaaaay. "Just processing my skewed new reality a little more than normal," he says and smiles again at her.
The sheen has gone off the gift and she can feel blood throb in her temples as her head screams in pain.
John is halfway out the door when he turns, comes striding back with the whole force of his personality, coming right up to her, sliding his hand through her hair to cradle her neck and then bringing his mouth to hers. The kiss is an utter surprise, hot and wet and brutal and she grabs at his vest, kissing him back for all of her surprise until he pulls back, breath hot against her cheek.
"What the frell was that?" D'Argo barks out, voice far, far too amused.
John's voice is low, lacking any of the amused adrenaline she'd have expected. "Sometimes," he says, and it is directed at her, "you've gotta make your own reality."
He lets her go and she feels his absence immediately, looks back down at the cartridges instead of watching him walk out the door.
D'Argo waits for a few 100 microts, finishes the food cubes, then says, "Are you going to do something about that?"
Aeryn thinks about it, wraps the cylinders back up in the silk and tucks them into her own utility pouch. "Yes," she says. "I am."
Heart Like a Wheel Means Racecar Dreams