Dirty Laundry

By Celievamp (jo.raine@ntlworld.com)

Genre: Farscape

Pairing: Chiana / Aeryn

Disclaimer: The story, and characters and anything and everything else concerning Farscape belongs to David Kemper et al.

Spoilers: Missing scene from the Season 2 episode “Vitas Mortis”

Written for the Femslash Advent Calendar 2006: The Dog Days of Summer

Date in Calendar: 16 June 2006

DIRTY LAUNDRY

Chiana picked up the armful of clothes, almost swooning as Aeryn’s particular scent filled her nostrils. Frell, the way that woman made her feel. If only…

But she was just a tralk and Aeryn was still too much a Peacekeeper. Irreversible contamination. No way would she condescend to frell with a Nebari.

The rest of the crew were down on the planet below trying to find a Luxan mystic that lived there. D’Argo wanted to talk to her. This Nilaam was ancient and powerful. She had certainly spooked D’Argo. None of them had ever seen him so… scared. The old woman was an Orican. Zhaan had to explain it to me – some kind of Luxan Holy woman, revered by all Luxans. And she was dying. D’Argo immediately offered to attend. Nilaam challenged whether he was worthy of the honour. They were going to do some kind of ritual.

Of course, with Luxan’s there was always some kind of ritual. Usually painful.

Maybe doing the laundry would take her mind off of it. D’Argo’s clean clothes were piled in a basket, waiting to be taken to one of Moya’s great air chambers to be hung out to dry. She threw Aeryn’s clothes into the amnexis fluid and then climbed in after them, standing knee deep in the softly glowing fluids. She started to sing again.

She had been singing when Aeryn had burst in earlier.

“Here’s some more.”

“Some more what?” Chiana asked.

“Clothes to be cleansed.”

Chiana wasn’t stupid. She got the implication straight away. But she didn’t get the chance to engage the Sebacean woman in conversation very often so she tried to draw the woman out a bit more. Of course, making her angry would be a bonus, she loved to see what the flare of temperament did to the normally taciturn and coldly controlled woman. “Oh, no problem. Room for us both.”

“No,” Aeryn said. “I want you to wash these.”

“Oh, do you? What… are you allergic to Moya’s amnexis fluids or something?”

“Just wash them, will you?”

Chiana snorted, half in amusement, half in despair. “Oh, when exactly did I become your servant? Why do I have to wash your clothes?”

“Well, you’re cleaning D’Argo’s, aren’t you?”

“Yeah… but I like D’Argo,” Chiana drawled.

The look Aeryn gave her made Chiana realise she might have gone too far with that last remark. The Sebacean turned tail and almost ran out of the sluice chamber before Chiana could say anything else.

So, by way of apology, Chiana was doing Aeryn’s washing. The ex-Peacekeeper did like her black, Chiana thought. She fingered the utilitarian fabric, shiny and slippy with the amnexis fluid, the enzymes in the fluid digesting the dirt as effectively as any detergent.

The truth of course was that she liked Aeryn as well. D’Argo, well, D’Argo scratched an itch, as so many had before. But Aeryn, Aeryn could be the real thing, the one, the only.

If she could ever get Aeryn to see her as anything other than a tralk and a servant.

The pool in the Sluice Chamber was big enough to bathe in, plenty big enough for two. Chiana closed her eyes imagining a wet and slippy Aeryn Sun beside her in the fluid, imagined mouthing and teasing at those generous breasts with her fingers, her tongue. And Aeryn’s fingers, Aeryn’s long, sensitive clever fingers sliding over her skin. Chiana gasped, trilled softly to herself, undulating her body as she rubbed the sopping cloth over her breasts, getting her own clothes and skin very wet in the process, the cool gel-like fluid slipping easily over her skin, pebbling her nipples, dripping over her belly sending little highly pleasurable waves throughout her body.

She had never felt so charged, so powerful. It was heady, intoxicating. Her trilling song seemed to have tapped into something else. The whole universe seemed to be at her disposal, she could do anything, have anyone.

And Chiana wanted Aeryn Sun.

What was this? Chiana clutched the wet fabric to her, rubbing it slowly over her abdomen, arching and twisting her back in a paroxysm of arousal. The music, the throbbing music was all around her and in her and she could feel… She was no stranger to sex, she’d bought her way across the galaxy with her body but that was just fracking and this… this was… this was just the thought of having Aeryn Sun in her arms, of that long silky braid of hair trailing over her skin of Aeryn’s fingers and tongue touching tasting lapping… Goddess, if this was just the thought… what would the act itself be like?

Chiana’s mewling became a keening wail that seemed to echo throughout Moya and beyond. She did not know that Nilaam’s ritual had reached its conclusion on the planet below that the powerful Orican had tapped not only D’Argo but Moya herself for her ritual of renewal.

Chiana gasped, falling back against the side of the pool, Aeryn’s clothes slipping from her suddenly nerveless fingers.

The pain was sudden, unexpected. “What the frell…” In the blink of an eye, the amnexis fluid had solidified around her. She was trapped. “Frack,” she whispered. “I thought it was too good to be true.” She raised her voice. “Zhaan? Aeryn? Need some help in…”

The door opened and Aeryn walked in. She stared at Chiana’s predicament for a moment then started to laugh. “What have you done?”

“Nothing!” Chiana protested. Aeryn walked around the pool then came to stand behind her again.

“Well you must have done something.”

Chiana experienced a sudden flash of heat as she remembered just what she had been doing. Not that she could tell Aeryn about that. The Peacekeeper would probably fillet her on the spot for sullying her – even if she was supposedly ‘irreversibly contaminated’. No, she’d keep her fantasies to herself for a while longer… Chiana had every intention of living a good long life. “I didn’t do anything. It… it just froze up all around me. Get me out of here!”

Aeryn cocked her head, almost smiled. Almost. “When did I become your servant?”

“Don’t frell around,” Chiana sighed. “Just… just get me out of here, okay?” As she watched, the Sebacean knelt on the edge of the pool next to her, one of those superior smiles on her face that Chiana wanted to simultaneously smack into next week and kiss until they were both weak from oxygen deprivation.

“What’s the hurry, Chiana? You’re not allergic to Moya’s amnexis fluids, are you?”

“Oh, yeah. Very funny, Aeryn. Look, can you please just do something?” She could smell the Sebacean, the oil she used on her hair, the soap she used on her skin when she bathed. Such pale skin. Aeryn’s face was close to hers. If she turned her head just so their lips would almost be touching. It would take very little just to…

Zhaan burst through the door in a cloud of blue robes. Frell it, Chiana thought. “Zhaan… Finally someone who’s a little more useful.”

Zhaan joined Aeryn at the side of the pool gazing down at the milky ice encasing Chiana’s legs. “What did she do?” Aeryn just laughed and shrugged her shoulders.

Chiana was speechless. She knew Zhaan was far far older than she looked but did she have to treat her as such a… a child all the time. And Aeryn had agreed with Zhaan. “I didn’t do anything!” she exploded. “I just…” Aeryn and Zhaan exchanged another amused glance and Aeryn actually started to laugh. Chiana felt the urge to giggle. It was rather ridiculous.

Zhaan leant over the edge of the pool, gingerly touching the surface of the ice. “Pilot, do you know anything about this?”

“Only that Moya’s Hydric system is failing on a number of tiers. Cause unknown.”

And then suddenly, it wasn’t funny at all.


END