&fic;

 

Neighborhood Spaceman (Teen Spirit on Wax)

by sugargroupie

PG-13, 1251 words

Summary: the younger Crichton intrigued her, and the differences made her want to know more.

Disclaimer: Not mine; O'Bannon, Henson, Kemper, et. al.

Notes: Spoilers through Kansas. Written for Remix Redux 09. The original story was Smells Like Teen Spirit by Stars. Thanks to Kernezelda for the beta.

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During her short time on Earth, Chiana had quickly grown to appreciate Crichton's Betty.

She pressed her back against the door of the truck, relaxed her limbs into the firm cushion of the seat and watched his profile. He didn't look quite like the Crichton she knew, but she saw hints of him in the softened angles of the boy's face; saw similarities in the mouth that stretched open when he smiled as he spoke of the same obsession that would later land him in a different universe.

"You will," she said, when he wondered if he'd ever make it to the stars, if he was good enough. She willed him to remember this moment, when Karen Shaw encouraged his dreams and chased away his disappointments just by listening to him speak.

Allowing her eyes to wander briefly from his face, Chiana watched the neighborhood become scattered with kids playing make believe. She looked down at the clothing she'd taken for herself. The loud colors may have covered her body but they couldn't mask who she was.

But it was interesting, Chiana realized, to experience what young Humans did every day of their lives, even for a few microts. For as long as she could remember, she had never been allowed to be a narl. There was always she and Nerri's survival to consider; and even still, long after her brother had joined the Resistance and left her alone.

But here, on Crichton's planet, she was Karen Shaw.

And frell, it wasn't like she could ignore the sex looks the boy was giving her. Difference was, the younger Crichton wasn't warring with himself over wanting her. He simply did. Chiana shook herself from her thoughts abruptly, realizing she'd touched on something she hadn't realized she'd needed:

To be in control, and to be respected and desired by someone who didn't see her as a common tralk. She didn't want to be discarded, and up until this point she'd trusted every version of Crichton she'd ever met, just as he trusted her with the boy before her.

That's what this particular Human had always done, she decided. Chiana devoted all of her attention to the younger Crichton. Yes, she thought. She could see more of her Crichton in this boy the longer she looked at him.

Chiana figured Crichton knew exactly what she meant when she told him she'd take care of his younger self, "no questions asked." She'd certainly given him plenty of hints over the last four cycles.

Closing the comms channel before she heard any more of Wrinkles' annoying commentary, Chiana turned to face the younger Crichton. She pushed her nerves back and made a quick decision. If Crichton and the Old Woman wanted him distracted then she'd occupy him the best way she knew how.

Chiana stretched out the hem of her dress with her fingers and climbed over him, his legs stretched out on the platform of his truck. She bent her knees, lines of what he called or-ange in her line of sight, and focused on his young face; on the details that made him Crichton and the heaviness of want in his blue eyes that was hard to ignore.

Pressing close until their foreheads touched, she breathed deep and hesitantly asked, "This… uh, your first?"

"Yeah," Crichton nodded as she pushed the thin jacket down his shoulders. She knew the answers already but she asked the questions anyway, wanting to put him at ease and settle the nerves that made the clingy Earth clothes feel tight on her skin.

"Is this how you- you imagined it?"

The boy shook his head. "Not in Betty. I thought it'd be in my Dad's four-wheel drive."

Chiana took that as permission and kissed his lips, relaxed into his body as he leaned further into her embrace. He was young, but so was she, and she could teach him along the way.

He'd catch up.

"I know girls who would kill for your makeup."

Nervous chatter. She's had cycles to get used it, but it still caught her unaware.

Chiana pulled her mouth away from his neck, caught the frustrated sigh with her tongue and licked her lips instead. She stared at his face, so young, with fewer lines and shoulders free from the weight of the universe. She'd almost forgotten this was Crichton beneath her, until he'd interrupted her with his talking. Again.

She went with her first option of shutting Crichton up, used her mouth and fingers and took his gasp for herself. The distraction worked for a while. Then he pried his mouth away, the first of his words mumbled as he said, "I just meant that your lipstick hasn't rubbed off."

Chiana hesitated, laid two fingers against her lips as she backed out of his personal space. It took a microt for the microbes to translate, and then she was hit with a vivid memory of late night Tee Vee where a Human talked about how to prevent smudging the artificial stains on her lips. Chiana remembered asking Crichton what kind of fekkik would put wet paint on their mouths and not expect it to smudge.

But this Crichton reminded her of how curious narls could be. And from the little time she's spent around Crichton's people, Human narls seemed more talkative than most. Lips always moving and saying nothing she wanted to hear.

He was so frelling untested, but she was gonna enjoy changing that.

"Quiet," she murmured, and rubbed her grey lips against the corner of his mouth. "See? Smudge free," she said after a moment, watching as he swiped the area with one finger. It came away clean.

She'd already made quick work of his jeans, and so Chiana grasped him firmly in her hand and began stroking him slowly. His breath stuttered over her skin, his warm fingers squeezing over the hand that held him, but he didn't stop her. Instead, he held on and guided her in a steady rhythm.

Chiana allowed this to go on for a time before she took control again. She pulled the stretchy material down her legs and then sat on his lap. And Crichton - the man she knew and the boy she was learning - stared back at her unflinchingly.

"Karen," he breathed, and she answered with a shift of her hips.

When it was over, Chiana squeezed his narrow hips between her thighs and shifted back. She felt his whole body heave at the movement, like he'd finally decided to release the breath he'd been holding now that it was over.

Then he smiled; his lips slanted and spread so Chiana could see his teeth.

She liked that look on his face; liked it even more that she was responsible for putting it there.

Later, when Noranti wiped his memory of the day's events, she impulsively whispered secrets in his ear, telling him not to forget about Karen Shaw, in the back of the four-wheel drive.

Yeah. She'd always have a piece of him now. Left traces of herself in the way he kissed and frelled. Aeryn wouldn't thank her, but Chiana knew she was appreciative of the results.

Best of all, Chiana thought, was when she saw the familiar smile on Crichton's face, reminding her of the boy he was. Caught, conquered, frelled, blitzed. She did that. And from the slant of his mouth and the showing of his teeth, she knew it was also a memory Crichton would never forget.

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