Disclaimer: I own nothing, and I will like it…actually I hate the fact I own none of the characters (runs away crying)
Season – Future Fic
Author Note: So I assumed my muse some how got buried next to Jimmy Hoffa when I wasn't looking, muse kidnap! But this story has been mingling around like an unwanted pest for the last few days and finally after writing it left me alone, figures. Anyways hope you get some enjoyment out of this tiny little story.
Fuzzy Pink Handcuffs
"You do realize we are going to be in serious dren when they come for us?"
No response. It was very evident to the fact the one sitting across from him, was not in the mood to talk. But that never stopped him before, he could be in the room by himself and hold a conversation but that was just his nature or so everybody thought it was.
"You know, you're not the first to be thrown in the slammer because of a girl. Your mother would kill me if I started describing all the stories were I got into trouble because of a woman." Looking down at his dusty boots he then mumbled "Guess it wouldn't matter really, I'll be dead when she shows up. Might as well ask to be taken out of my misery right now before she comes."
The rattle of chains caused him to glance up but the one across him was only shifting and making himself as comfortable as the restraints allowed. Then subconsciously he himself moved making the chains clink in response hitting into one another. No matter how many times he was restrained, it never failed for them to find a way to cut off his circulation to the point he was convinced one of his arms would fall off from lack of blood flowing through it. Then again the point of being restrained was not to make the person comfortable that be pretty pointless making the person you captured feel like there were at the Marriott hotel. But if it was like that he'd get captured more often then trying to avoid it so much. 'Wonder if we can take these with us, it would make sex interesting.'
He quickly dismissed that idea out of his head; he could just see it, trying to explain to his wife about the kinkiness behind it. She would give him that look as though he was the size of a cockroach and then more then likely knock him out for suggesting such a bizarre and stupid human sex ritual. Though it might be worth the pain just to see the expression cross her face, as the puzzlement contorted her features.
Cracking his neck he was reminded of some of the sore spots in his neck and pretty much the rest of his body. But unfortunately and maybe blessing all in one, he had gotten use to his body feeling like this. Ever since he arrived in the Uncharted Territories he had been the designated punching bag. He was convinced there was an invisible sign over his head that said 'punch me I make funny sounds.' With that thought lingering and leading him to picturing himself as a doll with a drawstring in the back. He could just see it now, being in a cage a little sign on the outside 'if you pull his string, he'll speak a quirky earth saying."
'Stop.' He said consciously halting the stupid thought process that was going on in his mind and once again stole a fleeting look across the cell. Wanting to say something he was stopped as the door was blown off it's hinges and the one person he was waiting for in anticipation came in like Bruce Lee, only a decked out in leather gun swinging Bruce Lee and hotter. Another one followed behind, and he gulped and threw on a grin.
"Well looks like the family all here."
"What is with boys and getting into trouble?" The one behind Aeryn Sun asked. Aeryn replied, "It's in their nature to do something destructive."
"Could we talk about this later, and get us out of these?" John asked showing the restraints on his wrists.
Aeryn's eyebrow shot up a little as she looked at the two men in front of her. "I have half a mind to just leave you here John and only take our son."
John Crichton was flabbergasted. For once it was not his fault! John could admit that most of the time it was his blunders that usually got them into messes, but this time the glory belonged all to his son. Though he would never voice this out loud, making his son feel guiltier then he all ready was feeling. He glanced over at D'argo who was just sitting there with a 'wasn't me,' innocent look on his face. John watched as his daughter went over to his son and undid the restraints on his wrists. D'argo unconsciously rubbed where the chains had been holding him to the wall. Aeryn then nodded for the two to leave and they did without saying a word, they knew better. She tilted her head to make sure they were out of earshot before she turned her attention back to her husband.
"I know what your thinking John, son like father."
John shook his head, "Father like son."
"You know what I mean."
His eyes began wondering around, trying to find something to focus his attention on so he could pretend he was some where safer then in front of his vengeful wife, the officer from the depths of hell itself by the way she interrogated.
"Don't avoid me John, look at me."
Like a bad puppy he slowly brought his head up and looked at her, which she then came and kneeled before him so she was eye level.
"It was your turn to watch him make sure he didn't get into trouble, I should have known better with the two of you running around." She said with a smile, and right then John knew he was no longer in the doghouse after all.
"Well I'll explain how we got our asses kicked by Madonna's evil twin sister, but first can you let me out of these?"
Aeryn realized long ago some of the things John would say would make absolute no sense unless she came from his world, and she gotten pretty good just going along with it. But sometimes he would say something that threw her translator microbes for a spin and she would then just shake hear head or think 'human.'
Producing the key she unlocked the manacles and then helped him onto his feet. As they began walking out towards the door John looked at her.
"So what would I have to do, to convince you to let me buy us fuzzy pink handcuffs?"