Reposted fic: Count yourself lucky (DA/Farscape crossover)

[shallowness]

Title: Count yourself lucky
Fandoms: Dark Angel/Farscape
Rating: PG
Genre: Humour.
Word Count: 596 words.
Summary: A conversation between fictional characters: John Crichton and Alec McDowell

Notes: First posted July 2005. Script format. Pairings: John/Aeryn, Max/Alec friendly.
Spoilers: Dark Angel seasons 1-2, Farscape season 1- mini-series. With thanks to FridayAngel for betaing, all idiocies are mine.


Count yourself lucky: shallowness

[LOCATION: A bar where a very good looking dark-haired man is talking to a very good looking man with lighter-coloured hair. Everybody with human eyesight or better in that bar should be counting themselves lucky.]

ALEC: ...so we're spliced with cats. Weird, huh?

CRICHTON: Not if you've seen a Hynerian spliced with a whatever Granny is.

[ALEC smiles like he totally doesn't get it but is humoring his new drinking buddy anyway.]

CRICHTON: So how did you get here? [Looks around bar.]

ALEC: What do you think? Waiting for a girl.

CRICHTON: On the off chance or one in particular?

ALEC: Dark haired, mean-tempered-

CRICHTON: [Curiously] She packing heat?

ALEC: Nope. Doesn't do guns.

CRICHTON: Was going to say I know the type.

ALEC: No sense of punctuality either, which considering she was born a soldier-

CRICHTON: Woah, I do know the type. Got parental issues?

ALEC: Yup.

CRICHTON: Weird relationship with her former CO?

ALEC: Well, there's the one who gave her his dead wife's eyes and there's the one she calls her brother but who doesn't think like that about her, if you know what I mean, and I think you do.

CRICHTON: [Grins.] So we're not talking the Waltons then.

ALEC: Um, no. And then there's the anger management issue. Issues, even.

CRICHTON: But you're here waiting for her because she's hotter than a fire swamp.

ALEC: ...

CRICHTON: [Still grinning.] So how long you been together?

ALEC: ...

[CRICHTON starts cackling.]

ALEC: We're-

CRICHTON: Not like that?

[A wave of revulsion passes over ALEC'S features. He is still hot, though.]

CRICHTON: Bad word choice?

ALEC: Really bad. Besides, there'd be many, many problems.

CRICHTON: Huh, until you've seen the love of your life fly off with your clone, and-

ALEC: Try having her think of your clone as a brother, my friend.

CRICHTON: Ouch.

ALEC: Plus he's now dead, so she's always going to remember him as a younger, better looking version of you.

CRICHTON: I hate it when that happens.

ALEC: So the love of your life is a dark-haired, mean-tempered-

CRICHTON: Well, I wouldn't say that. She's just a little…abrupt. She tries. Really. When she remembers not to treat all other life forms with the contempt that's been indoctrinated into her since birth.

ALEC: Well, when you're the best of the best, it's hard. So she's a former soldier with parental issues- Okay, was it her mother or father?

CRICHTON: Both.

ALEC: So how's that going for you?

[CRICHTON flashes a cocky grin.]

ALEC: Not even the slightest, teeniest twinge at the lack of freedom? That's what'd get to me.

CRICHTON: I look at it this way, a wife is a better option than two battle fleets after your ass. There's a slightly higher likelihood of sex.

[ALEC looks at him dubiously.]

CRICHTON: And after having a neural clone of your archenemy in your head and said archenemy sneering in your face every time everything goes to dren, which let's face it, happens like clockwork-

ALEC: I hate it when they sneer.

[Both men start doing impersonations, John of Scorpius, Alec of White, then they burst out laughing.]

CRICHTON: Seriously, I’ve got no complaints. Well, apart from the kid's bawling, you would not believe how much noise comes out of a part-Sebacean tyke's pipes. Louder than a Klingon death howl.

ALEC: [Winces] You’ve got a kid?

CRICHTON: He's cute! Wanna see pictures? Nah? What if I get you a beer?

ALEC: [Smiling] Get a pitcher and I'll look at the pictures.

CRICHTON: A pitcher, huh?

ALEC: It's the future, man.

END



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