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Rated: PG-13 for mild sexual content, more suggestive than actual, and no graphic content.
Acknowledgements: Thanks to CrystalMoon, who said "Ditch the Delvian," and Atana who agreed with her; and imloco2, Shipscat, and Tazey who all contributed mightily to the details of the setting and plot, such as it is. This is a whole lot better because of all of them!
They had fought with the controls all the way to the ground.
John could still hear the shrill whistle of the atmosphere whipping through tiny cracks in the transport pod’s walls as he and Aeryn had plunged towards the planet. She had actually managed to land the damned thing, if you used the old cliché, any landing you could walk away from was a good landing; he knew he probably wouldn’t have managed it.
Now John was trudging through what was probably a forest, what little he could see of it through icy, driving rain, carrying Aeryn in his arms as he had been for the past arn, and fighting down panic. He thought it was probably the cold that had made her pass out when they’d stopped for a rest two arns after the crash. Neither of them had been dressed for cold weather; they didn’t even have their coats. Yeah, heat was worse for Sebaceans than cold, but Peacekeepers were bred for the artificially constant temperatures of the Command Carriers they were born on, and it was colder than H-E-double Texas on this planet, whatever it was…. Southern boy that he was, he was beginning to worry about frostbite on his own toes!
It’s not *that* cold, he lied to himself, because if he admitted how cold it was, he’d have to admit they could be in serious trouble.
Aeryn was *not* going to die like this. He was *not* going to let it happen, especially not with things still so….strained….between them. Well, “strained” was too strong a word, but she was still getting over the loss of his twin, and he was still biding his time, trying not to think about how much he wanted her and needed her, trying to be the friend she needed. On the plus side, she’d thrown her arms around him and kissed him when they stumbled out of the burning transport pod. It had been brief, but he could still feel the warmth of her lips on his.
Shit. Can that line of thinking, just think about getting her out of the wet and the cold. You can do that, can’t you, flyboy?
He didn’t even know if this planet was inhabited, but at least there should be a cave or a deep grove of trees, *something*…..
In the dark overcast and the driving rain, he almost missed it. A fence. A fence, with a *gate*. A gate that led to a paved walkway, a path to the front door of a dwelling of some sort.
John kicked the gate open and hurried up the path, calling, “Anybody home? We need help!” He couldn’t really tell what the building looked like, but there was a hint of bluish light through windows, and all he could think of was getting Aeryn out of the cold. At least there was a roof over the porch so they were no longer getting drenched, even if the rain clattered so loudly he could hardly hear himself think.
Shifting her body in his arms, he freed up one hand and pounded frantically on the door. His fist on the metallic door made huge booming sounds that resonated loudly enough to wake the dead, he was sure of it, even over the sound of the rain.
About the time he decided no one was at home, his normal caution finally kicked in. Great, John, remember Hansel and Gretel? The wicked witch in the gingerbread house? At least make a quick check for obvious surprises.
He set Aeryn down next to the door, hoping that he wouldn’t have to leave in a hurry, drew Winona, and peered through the windows. The large open room he could see from the front appeared to be empty. The blue glow that he’d seen in the windows came from a lamp of some sort, but it seemed totally inadequate to the task of lighting the room. He’d look at it when they got in. If they got in.
Aeryn made a soft noise. He heard it, even over the drumming rain, and knelt down and took her face in his hands, looking at her intently. She wasn’t awake, but he took the sound as a good sign anyway. “Baby,” he whispered, knowing she couldn’t hear the endearment, so it was safe. “I’ll be right back, I’m just going to check around the back, okay? I’ll hurry.”
He moved rapidly to the rear of the building, quickly looking through the windows and the smaller door there. It was too dark to tell anything, but there were no obvious signs of danger. He made the decision to break in. If he set off alarms and the local Pinkerton’s Home Security Service showed up, well, then that would get them some help…..
Still moving quickly, he returned to the front and checked on Aeryn again, then examined the door. The mechanism looked nothing like a knob, or any of the fixtures on Moya or Talyn, for that matter, but it didn’t take him long to jimmy it. Ah, the skills he’d learned over the past few cycles.
With a glance to make sure Aeryn was still okay, he hefted Winona, opened the door and went in to check it out.
The room wasn’t that much warmer than the outdoors, but it was blessedly dry. In the pale blue light, he saw that there was a stone fireplace along one wall. It looked very much like the one they used to have in the cabin by the lake in Maine where his father had taken him fishing when he was a child…. which was odd, considering that most of the rest of the place looked like plastic and steel.
Reminisce later, John, make sure it’s safe now…. He pushed open the doors to the remainder of the house, finding the rooms empty.
He thought this probably was someone’s hunting cabin, fishing cabin, some kind of vacation home. It just felt like that to him. He examined the lamp briefly – up close, it looked like it might be some kind of security light, dim now because its battery was running low. He didn’t think anyone had been there in a long time.
There was a pile of furs in front of the fireplace, arranged as if for sleeping. It was probably the warmest spot in the place when there was a fire going. And, jackpot, there was a huge stash of very dry firewood stacked next to the hearth.
Gratefully, he went to get Aeryn, being careful not to put her too near the fireplace when he laid her on the furs. He brushed wet tendrils of hair off of her forehead and whispered reassuringly, “Aeryn? Baby, are you okay? We’re safe. We just need to get you warmed up. I’m going to light a fire, okay?”
No answer but a vague murmur.
John checked for something that looked like a flue, then carefully stacked the wood. That done, he looked around for anything that looked like matches or the equivalent, and was rewarded for his efforts with a small plastic-like packet that burst into flames when squeezed. He dropped it onto the prepared wood, and the fire blazed yellow with purple tinges. All right! The flames didn’t give off as much heat as a fire would have back home, but it was a lot better than nothing.
John turned his attention back to Aeryn, first moving her a little farther from the flames. He touched her forehead and arms, trying to gauge her body temperature.
Still too cold, clammy even. From the depths of his mind came the order, “Take her clothes off.” He couldn’t deny the logic, remembering days when he’d come home soaking wet after walking home from school in the rain and his mother had made him change immediately into dry things. He even had a clear recollection of one rainy campout where his father had made him strip out of wet jeans and get into a sleeping bag to warm up. Not to mention IASA survival training. She’d be a lot warmer without the wet leather.
But….he hesitated.
“She’s soaked to the skin, you idiot” he told himself. “It’s drawing the heat from her body.” Ah, hell, Aeryn’d understand survival skills, right? There had to be some more furs or blankets he could cover her up with once he got the wet stuff off of her.
John moved in and unzipped the leather vest. He struggled with the two-zipper mechanism, unfamiliar to him, and also awkward and sticky because the leather was wet. “How the hell did he undo this?” he muttered to himself. “She must have done it for him….” The zipper came loose suddenly. He pulled the vest open, and found he almost couldn’t breathe.
Crap. One track mind you have there, John, he berated himself. Look at her face. But he couldn’t. He hadn’t seen her naked since, well, that one time, on the false Earth… and she was so beautiful….
Grow up, he muttered. Quit thinking like a horny teenager. She’s half frozen to death and you’re trying to get her warmed up.
He lifted her up carefully, pulling each arm in turn through the armholes, and dropped the wet vest on the floor. He kept up a running commentary, in case she woke up, so she’d know what he was doing. After the vest came the boots and her holstered pulse pistol, and then her pants, even more of a struggle because the wet leather didn’t want to slide over the skin. He tried to leave her underwear on, to leave her a semblance of modesty, at least, but it kept rolling itself up in the leather as he tugged on the pants, and he finally had to give up. And then she was lying on her back, nestled in the fur, and nothing else. God, she was beautiful…. *Get a grip!* he told himself. What if she opens her eyes and sees you gawking at her? Besides, she needs to be covered up for warmth. As if to emphasize the thought, a shiver ran through her body.
A quick search of the room turned up more furs, which he brought over and tucked around her body. She sighed once, and turned her head to the side. John thought she looked more comfortable, anyway. All he could do now was wait for her to wake up.
To calm his mind, and his body, he carefully picked up the wet clothing and straightened it out, trying to find a place to hang it up to dry. He draped the vest, underwear and pants near the fire, set her boots nearby, and then leaned forward, holding his hands in front of the flames. The room was warming up at little, at least.
When he had succeeded in getting his thoughts back to the practical, he went back and checked on Aeryn. He touched her forehead, then pulled back the fur and held her hands between his. They were like ice. Her legs and torso seemed a bit warmer, but she was still very cold, even with the fire and the furs. Her own body heat wasn’t enough to warm the sleeping furs very much, and he didn’t dare move her closer to the fire. He frowned. How cold was too cold?
A little voice in the back of his mind said, “You could warm her up. Body heat.” It was the practical thing to do. He knew it. And *under* the covers would bring a lot more warmth to her than trying to hold her from *outside* the covers. But his clothes were still icy cold and soaking wet – he could see the puddles he was making on the floor – so if he was going to do her any good, he’d have to get out of his clothing, too. He probably should do that anyway and find his own blanket, he thought, chewing on his thumb, if he didn’t crawl in with her….
The part of him that was still making like a teenager and being acutely aware of the fact that she had no clothes on, blushed. The sensible part of him said she’d kill him if she woke up and found him in bed with her, his naked body wrapped around hers…. He looked at Aeryn’s face, deathly pale from the cold, almost the same as she had looked in her coffin two cycles previously. The memory still stabbed at his heart, and he decided he’d take the risk that he’d be able to keep her from giving him a pantak jab before he could explain….
Before he could have second thoughts, John removed his vest and pulled his black T-shirt off in one smooth movement. He draped them near Aeryn’s clothes, then sat down on the hearth and tugged at his boots. Then Winona joined Aeryn’s gun on the floor, carefully wrapped in the holster. Point of no return, off with the leather pants. They were almost as hard to remove as Aeryn’s had been, and he had the same trouble with *his* underwear, but finally he was standing there in the buff, shivering despite the fire, and wondering what had possessed him to do this.
“I. Love. Aeryn,” of course. If Aeryn needed his *life* he would give it, so what was the big deal here? It was just body heat. He could do it. He walked over to the pile of furs and climbed in next to her, rolling on his side to face her.
The trouble with *not* being a horny teenager, he thought, was that you think beyond just getting laid. At least your brain does, he told his body sternly, not that it was paying the least attention, not when the woman he loved was right there beside him. He reached out and touched her face gently, smoothing some drying tendrils of her hair back out of the way. She might be unconscious, but *his* subconscious obviously thought she’d be fine when he got her warmed up. John told himself firmly, he was *not* going to go where *that* thought was taking him. She was the woman he loved, but he wasn’t quite the man she loved. Not yet, anyway, and if he wasn’t careful, this could frell things up even more than they were already.
But it was necessary. John sighed and slipped the arm he was laying on under Aeryn’s neck. He edged his body closer until he was touching her body with his, then rolled partway over her, draping his leg across her body. God, she *was* much cooler than he was, though not so much so that it frightened him. It just made him feel better about what he was doing. He reached his arm across her chest and started rubbing her opposite arm, trying to focus only on the needed warmth, not on any of the other sensations that were flooding his senses.
Come on, John, you can handle this. You’re a big boy. He concentrated on setting up a regular pattern of motion with his hand, down the arm, across the stomach, back to the thigh, up the arm, caress the cheek…. Repeat. Move your leg up and down across her legs. Concentrate for any signs of consciousness so you can get out of the bed before she realizes you’re here….
He was so caught up trying to stay focused, he missed his cue. Aeryn moaned as he smoothed his hand across her belly, and his first thought was that she was in pain. “Aeryn?” he said softly. And then she moaned again and arched her body to meet his hand and his body instinctively responded to the movement. His brain caught up to what his body already knew, and he panicked.
But they were too intertwined for him to get out quickly, and he told himself he’d be better off just trying to explain. He rolled back so he was no longer on top of her, put his hand on his own leg, and said, “Aeryn? Baby, are you feeling warmer? Are you okay? You were so cold, I….” *Baby*? God, he was an idiot. She was going to kill him. He braced for the fierce expression he expected to see.
She opened her eyes and looked at him, a lazy smile in her eyes. “I’m okay,” she said, reaching for his face with one hand and touching his forehead just above his left eyebrow. She made no move to get out of the sleeping furs, or to push him away.
He shivered at the touch of her now-warm fingers. Just get out, he told himself, but he couldn’t move. He was drinking in the scent of her now, now that he was no longer worried about her health. He couldn’t begin to ignore it, and he couldn’t get out of the bed if his life depended on it. And he couldn’t pull his eyes away from hers, trying to read what was going on inside her head, hoping to god he could salvage something from this situation.
“John?” she said, softly, tentatively. “Make love to me.”
He squeezed his eyes shut so she wouldn’t see the pain. She’d just been unconscious. She had to think he was the other guy. One good thing about not being a teenager….he *could* overrule his body, no matter how much he wanted her. He opened his eyes again and said painfully, “Aeryn, it’s me, John. I’m the other one. I’m just trying to warm you up, we’ve been out in the cold.”
She rolled over onto her side facing him, and caressed his arm, smiling when he trembled. “No you’re not,” she told him.
Confused, he asked, “What?”
“You’re not the other one. He’s dead.” She said it wistfully, but firmly. “And I want *you* to make love to me.” She ran her fingers down his arm again until she reached his hand where it still rested tensely on his side. She picked his hand up and pulled it across her body, kissing his fingertips and finally resting them on her hip.
Of its own volition, John’s hand moved, caressing her, moving towards her breasts. God, her skin felt good. She shuddered under his touch, and he could barely breathe. When, he wondered vaguely, had Saint John become *the other one,* if indeed he had?
It didn’t matter, he realized. She wanted *him,* and he couldn’t, wouldn’t, fight it any more. He groaned, and then slid his arm around her back, pulling her to him, crushing her curves to his body, covering her mouth with his, feeling her body answer his desire with equal intensity.
They lost themselves in their lovemaking then, totally absorbed in the sight and scent, taste and feel of each other and all the pent up passion of past cycles. And when, all too soon, this first time, they were spent, Aeryn lay on top of John and traced circles around his nipples, followed the curves of his face with her fingers, planted kisses from the base of his neck up to his mouth, and down the other side. He laid there with an idiot grin on his face, enjoying everything she was doing. He’d probably never know what she’d learned from the other, and what she was learning from him, but it didn’t matter, because it was *his* eyes she was looking into adoringly, his heart she’d risked giving hers to once more.
Because, most importantly, she loved him. Aeryn loved him. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t said the words yet. She’d asked him to make love to her – and she knew what that meant to him. She hadn’t said “frell,” or “recreate,” or “have sex.” She hadn’t simply touched him in ways she must have known would make it physically impossible for him to deny her.
She’d asked him to make love to her. The words would come later, when she was ready to say them. He wouldn’t push by saying them himself. But she had to know, too.
“Um, Aeryn,” he said, summoning the energy to speak.
“Mm?” she murmured, brushing his hair with her fingers.
“Damn, we’re good together.”
Aeryn gave him a blinding smile and said carelessly, “Perfect.” She bent down and kissed him, then rolled off so that he had a chance to reach more of her body, run his hands over her, learning curves, finding the sensitive places, beginning to memorize them.
Soon they would have to start thinking about things like the best way to get off of this mudball. Probably their comms were still functional, and D’Argo would come looking for them. But for right now, they were warm and dry and they had nothing to do but enjoy each other and the fact that they had a future, together….
