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FARTSCAPE: A Tale of Flatulence & Food
By Iris Green
Iris Green 2002
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<< Continued from part 5

The light in the cleansing chamber of John and Aeryn's room flicked off as John himself moved across the floor.  He headed for the small closet like piece of furniture at one end of chamber to get ready for bed.

His head turned when he heard the doors to the chamber opening.  At first no one stepped through, and yet he saw a shadow cast on the floor.  Whoever was in the doorway was hesitating, making sure it was safe to come in.

John allowed himself a small chuckle before calling out, "It's okay Aeryn."

Caught, Aeryn had no other choice but to enter.  "So is it all settled then," she asked, headed toward the bed.

She sat down and began removing her boots.

"Yeah, I'd say so," replied John, shedding his clothes down to his boxers.

Aeryn paused in her own actions to watch him carefully, licking her lips as he lost his t-shirt, then his shoes, and then his pants.  When he turned around, looking in her direction, she immediately bent her head down, pretending to still be taking of the Peacekeeper issue boots that were on her feet.

"Now we can all get some sleep around here."  John was moving across the floor to the bed now, his quirky trademark grin on his face.  "Or ..."

"Or what?" Aeryn asked, tossing her boots and socks on the floor.

John settled on the bed behind her and put his hands on her shoulders.  "Well ..."

She whirled around and looked him dead in the eye, trying to hide the grin that was threatening to poke through her fierce Peacekeeper facade.  "John Crichton, are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting."

He shrugged.  "Maybe."  His fingertips trailed down her arms a ways and then jumped over to her sides, settling there at the bottom hem of her shirt.  "Depends on what you think I'm suggesting."

She leaned her face in close to his.  "You're awful."

"Yeah?"  He quirked an eyebrow.

"Yeah."

"Yeah?" Their noses were touching and their lips were almost smashed against each other.

Suddenly Aeryn lashed out, pushing him down onto the bed and attacking his mouth with her own.  They battled back and forth for dominance until finally John had her pinned beneath him and he was the one in control.  Hands were flying everywhere, tearing a cloth to see who could get who naked first.

And then ... a small wheezing sound escaped into the air.

Both froze and looked wide-eyed at the other.

"It wasn't me," John shook his head furiously.

Aeryn squirmed beneath him for several microts as his gaze bore down on her.  She mumbled a reply that he was unable to hear.

"Come again," he said.

Again, more mumbling.

"I still can't hear you."  John leaned in closer.

"IT WAS ME!" She yelled it this time, her cheeks flushing red.

=/\=

FIN

=/\=

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Disclaimer: Farscape is owned by Jim Henson ... Hey, there's news ... NOT! ... anyway, I don't own this wonderful sci-fi show and I don't own any of the magnificent characters on it (though I wish I did) and I swear on Farscape and all that's holy (which is Farscape) that I don't plan on making any money off of this or it.
Rating: PG-13
Archiving:  Go right ahead, yesiree ... all I ask is that you give me credit.
Feedback:  Please R/R ... and to give me further feedback email me at aerynsun01@yahoo.com
Spoilers: Nada ... nopers
Timeline: Before third season I'd say.
Summary: Rygel prepares dinner and John eats like a starving man.  The only problem is ... well, I'll let you figure it out.  I promise tons of laughs and tons of fun and tons of flatulence.
Author's Note:  This is merely a side project to help keep my sanity as I work my way through For Everything There Is A Season .  Don't worry, you'll all have plenty of my other story as well as plenty of this.  It only means that I'll be working harder to bring you great stuff.  And I can do that.  But I have to get this story out of my head and onto the screen of my computer.  And I wanted to get it up before my idea was stolen.  You never know who could be overhearing my conversations with myself.
Credit Where Credit's Due:  TOMMY -- you know who you are.  You hate Farscape, you hate science fiction and all you ever do is watch the news and listen to Bluegrass.  But you make fun of my most favorite TV show by calling it "Fartscape" and that was enough to spawn this hopefull mediocre fic.  THANK YOU SO MUCH!
 
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