DIP for SACOC
Jul. 13th, 2003 12:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
itsallovernowAlright, according to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rubberneck, I'm the leader of Covert Manual Operations. That's quite a pun, Feldman:)
Thanks torubberneck, veritykindle and whitelight1 for drive-by beta. I ran with Feldman's suggestions because it shortened the piece and inspired a slightly different take on the gloves and the time frame. But thanks to all of you. And, it's still obscenely long:)
Two in the Hand
He was a sand and surf boy, and didn’t own a pair of gloves until he went north for college. The cold had seeped into the joints of his fingers, and come winter when he’d tried to take notes, the pain made him suck in his breath. But being a Crichton meant not giving into the pain. Besides, he’d laughed at his mom when she tried to ply him with snow gear in the wavering heat of a southern summer as he packed up the car, ready to finally escape the shadow of Jack Crichton.
Eventually, his hands chapped and cracked, and when he found himself bleeding onto his equations, the blood spreading out like a sunburst onto the thin notebook paper, he gave in and sheepishly bought gloves.
He had remembered the snap, crackle and pop of skin, bone and tendon when he’d donned his first EVA suit, grateful for the protection even if he felt clumsy and childlike in the insulated gloves. Delicate work, like teasing out an equation, tying a fly, making a woman gasp called for skill and precision, none of which was possible with digits covered by bulk and down.
***
His arms were beginning to shake under the weight of the garments. Aeryn was no mall rat, but she approached shopping as she did everything else. If you’re gonna do it, do it right. The hamster ball of torture, the firefight in the coridoor and the duel with the Scarran had been hard on his wardrobe so he conceded to picking up a few things.
On their first shopping expedition post-gammack base destruction, they’d argued briefly in front of a vastly amused Chiana and Zhaan about where to buy new garments. Aeryn had insisted that they couldn’t keep buying clothing that got destroyed so easily, that leather was more efficient, lasted longer. The suggestion earned vigorous nods of agreement from the other two women, and he found himself plied with pants and vest and coats. The fact that he didn’t want to look like a Peacekeeper seemed meaningless to everyone, and he resigned himself to at least not having to repair his clothing on a nightly basis anymore.
When the tailor had measured a very antsy Aeryn for a double zippered vest, John decided that he could maybe resign himself to the clothing. Besides, the leather duster was just really frelling cool. He felt like Wyatt Earp. Well, Wyatt Earp in bondage, but still.
A cycle later, the pile of clothing he carried was evidence enough that PK black had become a fashion staple and they no longer had to barter vital components to buy a new pair of pants.
Searching out star charts of the current system, they had stumbled upon a moderately stocked commerce planet. There were no maps, but the planet had a variety of stores that catered to bipeds. The sun was warm but not overbearing, Stark was mercifully occupied on Moya, and Zhaan seemed to be enjoying the expedition.
When she made the request to stay on planet a little longer, John met Aeryn’s eyes over the stack of clothing, felt the clasp of Chiana’s fingers around his wrist and smiled his consent in agreement with the others. He doubted that he’d ever be able to deny Zhaan anything again. The merchant agreed that they could pick up their purchases later, and they set off.
The variety of species was no longer a novelty, the jostling crowds making John more nervous than wide eyed, and he was relieved when Aeryn pointed out a store that specialized in leather craft and weapons accessories.
Zhaan kept a close eye on Chiana, while Aeryn bargained with the merchant over gunbelts and holsters. Sometimes, the surreal nature of some of these conversations just got to him and he wandered over to where Zhaan was running gentle blue fingers over a pair of gloves.
“Hey bluie, thought your body self regulated?” he asked carefully, nudging her lightly with his hip, biting down his concern. She smiled at him serenely and agreed, “It does John, I was looking at these for you.”
He picked up the gloves. They were lighter than he expected, and felt smooth and warm in his hand, smelling of careful tanning and fine workmanship. “I think I lost that other pair,” he said thoughtfully, the chill of the ice planet still very much on his mind.
Chiana sidled up to him, and plucked the gloves from his hand, brushing them against her cheek appreciatively.
“Ooolish leather,” she said with a smile. “Very nice.”
He grinned at her, and snatched them back. “They’re leather gloves,” he said, laughing, “Not the second coming.” Chiana arched a suggestive brow and he shook his head at her, tapping her on the nose with the gloves.
“Ooolish is specially cured,” Zhaan added, “They are well insulated, but very thin. More importantly, they allow you to feel some sensation through their fibers. The leather is used in, well, certain types of establishments, but it is also used for normal garments.”
John looked at the gloves with renewed interest and Chiana licked her lips.
He pulled one of the gloves onto his hand, and they conformed to the bend and pull of his finger joints like a caress. They were warm, but lightweight and it was incredibly easy for him to slide his hand into the other one. He flexed his fingers slowly, testing out the give and stretch and heard a very low, very feminine gulp.
“They are a luxury among the Peacekeeper elite,” Aeryn’s husky voice said next to his ear. He turned his head to see her eyes fixed on his hands.
“They’re nice,” he said, and she cocked her head in acknowledgement.
“They fit you well,” Zhaan added and he smiled.
“You can feel things through them, huh?” he asked, and reached up, sliding his thumb along Aeryn’s cheekbone, lightly brushing down her neck with his fingertips until she inhaled sharply, narrowing her eyes at him.
It was like touching someone through water -the sensation of silk and cool, the fine texture of her skin seeping through the glove. It was different than actually feeling her, but it was also a hell of a turn on. A barrier without being totally out of touch.
He didn’t know about tying a fly, but he sure as hell would be able to manipulate the Prowler’s delicate mechanisms without getting frostbite, control the pressure on the grip of the pistol he was starting to thing of with affection as Winona, and he’d just done a test drive on another very useful function. “I’ll take ‘em,” he said.
rubberneck, I'm the leader of Covert Manual Operations. That's quite a pun, Feldman:) Thanks to
rubberneck, veritykindle and whitelight1 for drive-by beta. I ran with Feldman's suggestions because it shortened the piece and inspired a slightly different take on the gloves and the time frame. But thanks to all of you. And, it's still obscenely long:)Two in the Hand
He was a sand and surf boy, and didn’t own a pair of gloves until he went north for college. The cold had seeped into the joints of his fingers, and come winter when he’d tried to take notes, the pain made him suck in his breath. But being a Crichton meant not giving into the pain. Besides, he’d laughed at his mom when she tried to ply him with snow gear in the wavering heat of a southern summer as he packed up the car, ready to finally escape the shadow of Jack Crichton.
Eventually, his hands chapped and cracked, and when he found himself bleeding onto his equations, the blood spreading out like a sunburst onto the thin notebook paper, he gave in and sheepishly bought gloves.
He had remembered the snap, crackle and pop of skin, bone and tendon when he’d donned his first EVA suit, grateful for the protection even if he felt clumsy and childlike in the insulated gloves. Delicate work, like teasing out an equation, tying a fly, making a woman gasp called for skill and precision, none of which was possible with digits covered by bulk and down.
***
His arms were beginning to shake under the weight of the garments. Aeryn was no mall rat, but she approached shopping as she did everything else. If you’re gonna do it, do it right. The hamster ball of torture, the firefight in the coridoor and the duel with the Scarran had been hard on his wardrobe so he conceded to picking up a few things.
On their first shopping expedition post-gammack base destruction, they’d argued briefly in front of a vastly amused Chiana and Zhaan about where to buy new garments. Aeryn had insisted that they couldn’t keep buying clothing that got destroyed so easily, that leather was more efficient, lasted longer. The suggestion earned vigorous nods of agreement from the other two women, and he found himself plied with pants and vest and coats. The fact that he didn’t want to look like a Peacekeeper seemed meaningless to everyone, and he resigned himself to at least not having to repair his clothing on a nightly basis anymore.
When the tailor had measured a very antsy Aeryn for a double zippered vest, John decided that he could maybe resign himself to the clothing. Besides, the leather duster was just really frelling cool. He felt like Wyatt Earp. Well, Wyatt Earp in bondage, but still.
A cycle later, the pile of clothing he carried was evidence enough that PK black had become a fashion staple and they no longer had to barter vital components to buy a new pair of pants.
Searching out star charts of the current system, they had stumbled upon a moderately stocked commerce planet. There were no maps, but the planet had a variety of stores that catered to bipeds. The sun was warm but not overbearing, Stark was mercifully occupied on Moya, and Zhaan seemed to be enjoying the expedition.
When she made the request to stay on planet a little longer, John met Aeryn’s eyes over the stack of clothing, felt the clasp of Chiana’s fingers around his wrist and smiled his consent in agreement with the others. He doubted that he’d ever be able to deny Zhaan anything again. The merchant agreed that they could pick up their purchases later, and they set off.
The variety of species was no longer a novelty, the jostling crowds making John more nervous than wide eyed, and he was relieved when Aeryn pointed out a store that specialized in leather craft and weapons accessories.
Zhaan kept a close eye on Chiana, while Aeryn bargained with the merchant over gunbelts and holsters. Sometimes, the surreal nature of some of these conversations just got to him and he wandered over to where Zhaan was running gentle blue fingers over a pair of gloves.
“Hey bluie, thought your body self regulated?” he asked carefully, nudging her lightly with his hip, biting down his concern. She smiled at him serenely and agreed, “It does John, I was looking at these for you.”
He picked up the gloves. They were lighter than he expected, and felt smooth and warm in his hand, smelling of careful tanning and fine workmanship. “I think I lost that other pair,” he said thoughtfully, the chill of the ice planet still very much on his mind.
Chiana sidled up to him, and plucked the gloves from his hand, brushing them against her cheek appreciatively.
“Ooolish leather,” she said with a smile. “Very nice.”
He grinned at her, and snatched them back. “They’re leather gloves,” he said, laughing, “Not the second coming.” Chiana arched a suggestive brow and he shook his head at her, tapping her on the nose with the gloves.
“Ooolish is specially cured,” Zhaan added, “They are well insulated, but very thin. More importantly, they allow you to feel some sensation through their fibers. The leather is used in, well, certain types of establishments, but it is also used for normal garments.”
John looked at the gloves with renewed interest and Chiana licked her lips.
He pulled one of the gloves onto his hand, and they conformed to the bend and pull of his finger joints like a caress. They were warm, but lightweight and it was incredibly easy for him to slide his hand into the other one. He flexed his fingers slowly, testing out the give and stretch and heard a very low, very feminine gulp.
“They are a luxury among the Peacekeeper elite,” Aeryn’s husky voice said next to his ear. He turned his head to see her eyes fixed on his hands.
“They’re nice,” he said, and she cocked her head in acknowledgement.
“They fit you well,” Zhaan added and he smiled.
“You can feel things through them, huh?” he asked, and reached up, sliding his thumb along Aeryn’s cheekbone, lightly brushing down her neck with his fingertips until she inhaled sharply, narrowing her eyes at him.
It was like touching someone through water -the sensation of silk and cool, the fine texture of her skin seeping through the glove. It was different than actually feeling her, but it was also a hell of a turn on. A barrier without being totally out of touch.
He didn’t know about tying a fly, but he sure as hell would be able to manipulate the Prowler’s delicate mechanisms without getting frostbite, control the pressure on the grip of the pistol he was starting to thing of with affection as Winona, and he’d just done a test drive on another very useful function. “I’ll take ‘em,” he said.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2003-07-13 02:51 pm (UTC)One likes the scene, all the women taking John shopping.
no subject
Date: 2003-07-14 08:53 am (UTC)The innuendo never ends. *g*
no subject
Date: 2003-07-14 08:55 am (UTC)Re:
Date: 2003-07-14 09:40 am (UTC)Re:
Date: 2003-07-14 09:42 am (UTC)Re:
Date: 2003-07-14 10:10 am (UTC)The commerce planet shopping scene has been done to death - I've certainly leaned on it like a crutch - but it's such a domestic scene, and a reality. Groceries and clothes and supplies don't just pop up out of nowhere, you have to take time from being hunted down to buy milk and eggs and new shoes and it just has to ring as a little absurd at times.
no subject
Date: 2003-07-13 05:37 pm (UTC)A beautiful SACoC drabble, Thea. Thanks for making it so long!
Re:
Date: 2003-07-14 09:59 am (UTC)I'm fairly adoring of domestic John. He's willing to be bullied and long suffering as long as the bullying is done by pretty girls.
no subject
Date: 2003-07-14 12:50 pm (UTC)Re:
Date: 2003-07-14 12:55 pm (UTC)Ack. No more plot bunnies. I'm having a difficult enough time with AU John and the teenager and now I can just see him, overprotective and overindulgent, and pissing off his wife beyond belief:)
no subject
Date: 2003-07-13 05:46 pm (UTC)I'm loving all these SASoC drabbles. I'm sooo glad that leather is sooo practical *g*
Who knew gloves could be so sexy?
Re:
Date: 2003-07-14 09:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-07-14 06:08 am (UTC)I disagree that it's a pun per-se...a pun would be "Handyman". See how boring that is? Didn't that make you groan instead of laugh?
"Leader of Covert Manual Operations" is an unwieldy double entendre, but there's a few things going on in there, it's interesting.
I mean, at least, I think so. I'm really an unwashed bumpkin as far as literary terms and definitions, but I go with feel, which is why I refused to title my drabble "Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow", even though I couldn't think of a replacement.
Re:
Date: 2003-07-14 09:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-07-29 10:12 pm (UTC)Delicate work, like teasing out an equation, tying a fly, making a woman gasp called for skill and precision
and
The hamster ball of torture
Dang, I'd like to see some more of that very useful function.
no subject
Date: 2003-07-30 10:15 am (UTC)May I direct you to another glove centric piece I wrote called "Undertones?" It's archived at Leviathan:) Yes, I'm shameless. It's okay:)