Disclaimer: Not mine.
Rating: eh... 13+ish. Mention of sex, swearing.
Fandoms: Red Dwarf/Farscape - Spoilers: RD - most of season nine, I expect. FS - none, that I can tell.
Pairing: Chris Kochanski/Chiana Notes: Came out of a random conversation on FW wherein someone noted that Kochanski femslash would be lovely but very hard to do. This is quite true. Any inconsistencies are my own.
Words: 1,400+

Brief Encounter by ALC Punk!

When Starbug had first stumbled into the 'uncharted territories', Chris Kochanski had hoped it meant they would end up finding a way back to her universe. At times, she'd actually given up hope of doing so. Of seeing her own Dave again, and living out her life where she was valued for more than just her breasts and the way her knickers spun in the dryer. Which might have been a bit harsh, but she doubted it.

After several days spent finding out that there was a vast galaxy of people who weren't people--and Lister had been shocked and slightly amused that Rimmer was no longer around to finally meet aliens--they settled into a routine.

One which left Chris with very little to do--even planning how to rescue them from the jail cells they inevitably got thrown into wasn't very appealing after the fourth time.

It was hard to be the only competent one amongst idiots.

And she certainly wasn't going to avail herself of the local prostitutes. For one thing, she didn't know where any of them had been. For another, even with the translator microbes they'd stolen from a peacekeeper, she still wasn't sure if she wanted to know what 'frell' meant.

Still, it did afford her the chance to sit in random skanky bars and consider running away with the next peacekeeper that looked at her with interest. At least they seemed to recognize intelligence. Those in charge, at least. The grunts were less intelligent than Lister, if that could be believed. And she wasn't particularly gung-ho about the military, but surely they could use her skills.

"You look like you could use some fun." The voice interrupted her daily gloom.

One glance took in grey skin, dark leather, and amused eyes. Chris shook her head, "I'm not buying."

The young woman tilted her head and smiled. "Who said I was selling?"

"Fine." Chris turned back to her drink.

Without asking permission, the girl hopped onto a stool. "Chiana. And I'll have a raslak."

Of all the--really, Chris thought. This was ridiculous. Just because she was a woman, alone. "Look, I said--"

"What you didn't say, princess," Chiana replied, "Was no."

Oh. Kochanski frowned, rolling the thought around in her mind. She could say no. And the only person who'd bothered to talk to her would go away. She'd be stuck until the boys dragged themselves out of whatever whorehouse they'd found--which might be never. And she'd be bored.

"Fine." Chris waved a hand at the bartender. "Another for me, and a raslak for Chiana."

"So, you got a name, Princess?"

"Chris." Names couldn't be that bad to exchange. And besides, it would be nice to have someone to talk to. Even someone who looked like she'd been dropped in a vat of bleach.

"Huh." Chiana tilted her head, then seemed to almost shrug as her drink arrived. "And what brings you here, Chris?"

"Boredom," replied Chris, a little of her bitterness escaping. "I don't even belong here, you know. For one thing, nobody has cottage cheese, they store the salad cream in the fridge, and I'm always having to keep them out of trouble and they never thank me."

"That's men for ya."

"You know," and Chris was irritated by the slight sound of tears in her voice, "If I could just have a few pineapple chunks, it might not be so bad. But no one in the uncharted territories even knows what a pineapple is."

Chiana shook her head, "Chris, you're not looking at this the right way. You should be having fun." She laughed softly, "Like I have fun. You should do things instead of missing what you don't have."

"Yeah. Damn right." Chris eyed the drink she'd half-finished already and tried to count how many it had been.

"As my friend Crichton says, you gotta make what you can with what you have."

"That's a good point." Propping her chin on her hand, she tipped her head to look at Chiana sideways. "Only, I'm not really sure what I have."

Chiana chuckled.

"There's my brain." Chris tried to straighten and enumerate at the same time and was a little confused when Chiana leaned against her, then decided it was keeping her from falling over. "My targeting skills. My piloting skill. My breasts." She frowned, "Maybe not the last, those don't count as a skill, do they?"

"Well, they're certainly an asset."

"Yeah. Yes. Right."

"D'you know how to have fun, princess?"

Really, she should tell Chiana to stop calling her that, but she was still stuck at the idea that her breasts were more than just there for show. "Do they give me an advantage?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Good. And of course I know how to have fun." Chris pouted, "You've never had fun till you've been up all night running navigational equations through a plotting computer with half its diodes off."

"Whatever, yeah. You keep talkin', princess."

"Of course I'll keep talking. There's nothing else for me to do," irritated, Chris turned towards Chiana, right into her personal space. "It's all I can do, because my Dave isn't--"

Chiana's lips were gentle against hers. Just a light brush of flesh to flesh, but it was enough to shut Chris up. Enough that she sat there, stunned as Chiana went back to her raslak.

"Way I see it, princess, y'can complain about what you don't got, or you can do things with what you do."

"You just said that, before," Chris was feeling pedantic. She was also trying to decipher what about Chiana's lips had made her stop talking, much less thinking. Maybe it was the alcohol.

"I did. You aren't listening. You gotta have fun, princess. And I don't mean computers and dren like that."

"Fun. I don't know how." The bitterness was back.

"Then let me show you."

For a moment, Chris considered whether Chiana was just going to steal her money and run. And then she discarded it and stood. After all, why should the boys have all of the fun? "All right. But I've never--"

"Yeah," Chiana cut in, amused. "I never would'a guessed that, princess."

"Stop calling me that."


Chris tossed money down and stood, "Fine. Show me how to have fun."

"What kind of fun were you lookin' for?" Chiana asked, almost amused. She did get up, though.

"The kind where..." Really, could it be this hard to say? She hadn't had sex in over a year with anything other than her hand, and she was now considering sex with an alien. "Kiss me again."

"All right."

This time, it wasn't a careful brush of lips. This time, it was firm. Chiana's mouth was cool, and the action and movement sent Chris's head spinning. She pulled back with a soft gasp.

"Maybe you don't wanna have fun, princess."

Shoving her own confusion away, Chris reached for Chiana, hands cupping her face before she closed the distance herself and kissed the alien woman. A sound of approval sounded from Chiana and her own hands tugged Chris closer.

"Oi. Get a room!"

Chiana broke the kiss with a soft laugh, "Sounds like a plan."

Feeling rather breathless, Chris nodded, "Do I need to, or do you have one?"

"I've got a place," Chiana grabbed her hand and pulled her from the bar with ease. Chris didn't normally think of herself as a follower, but the other woman seemed to know where she wanted to go and what she wanted to do. And it was logical to let her lead.

Logic, however, didn't stop her from pulling Chiana into a doorway and kissing her again.

"Room," Chiana gasped, pushing her away.

"Then hurry."

Chiana hurried.


The sex was good. Hell, the sex was fantastic, and Chris fell asleep without a qualm. She didn't dream until almost morning, and waking alone she wondered if the dream had been more reality. The small bedroom was empty except for her clothes, neatly folded at the foot of the bed. Dressing was easy, though her muscles and body protested the movement.

A check of her pockets showed that Chiana hadn't walked off with her money. That was good. Chris rather suspected she'd be bailing the boys out again soon. A lack of money could make that difficult.

It occurred to her as she left the room, boots clicking quietly on the tile, that she could just leave them to rot.

But there was something comforting about having to save them, and something she might miss when she went home.

She refused to consider that she might not ever make it home.