|
Disclaimer: Not mine. Rating: PG.
SPOILERS: Massive ones for Farscape's Peacekeeper Wars, a few issues of Cable, and Stargate: SG-1's 'Heroes' in season 7.
Continue at your peril.
Notes at the end.
Timey's fault.
Tequila Fields Forever by ALC Punk! Where the frell was he? Sunlight, sand, trees. Vaguely, he remembered Crichton calling them palm trees. They didn't *look* like hands, but humans were wierd like that. A sound came from nearby, glass clinking on something metallic. He turned and blinked. A rather large thing was sitting at a small round table with an umbrella over it. "Who the hezmana are you?" The man blinked back, "What the fuck are you?" He shook his bronze mane and looked down at the half-empty glass. "I don't think I drank that much..." D'Argo snorted and sat across from him, snagging the pitcher. He downed the salty-sweet drink swiftly and sighed happily. "Hey!" "Get some more." "Fine. Yo! Waitress! Another pitcher over here!" "Hold yer bloody horses, you great oaf!" The voice was female, and irritated. The woman who belonged to it appeared shortly, her brunette hair pulled back in a tail down her back. She glowered. "Where'd he come from?" "Don't go doin' that stupid priestess thing, damnit." "I wasn't planning on it." She snorted and slammed a pitcher down. "There." "Tequila next, Rom." Now, that, D'Argo decided, sounded like a plan. "D'Argo." "Grizzly." They didn't bother shaking. Rom rolled her eyes, "If you two big buff males are done showing your credentials, can I get my tip?" "Romany Wisdom, I told you not to give him another pitcher till he'd paid up!" This voice was also female. D'Argo decided she sounded like Noranti. A short red-haired woman came stalking out into the clearing. She was, D'Argo decided, not as scary as Aeryn. But something about the way the woman glared fiercely warned him that he did NOT want to cross her. "Oh, like he's goin' to fuckin' go anywhere, Janet." "Yeah." Grizzly shifted, looking uncomfortable. "Besides, Janet, you know I'd never leave you." "Riiight." D'Argo tried to decide why he wasn't worried about where he was. Or maybe he simply didn't care. He clearly remembered dying, the pulse blasts burning deep into him until there was nothing but pain and blood and then... nothingness. And now he was here. He considered asking, but realized that he didn't care. He was over and done with. It was time to do other things. Like drink tequila. "Hey, Janet." She turned to him, scowling, "And who are you?" "D'Argo. Look, I don't have any currency at the moment, but I could really use some tequila." "The first one is free," Romany said, amused. "The rest all cost ya." "Great. Fabulous. How do I get currency?" "You work for me," Janet said cheerfully, "Here at the Jamaica Bay Inn on Bermuda." "Ask me again tomorrow." -f- Notes: The Jamaica Bay Inn has its origins in a late-night chat in #subcafe, where we decided that all of the out-of-character-acting X-Men were there. Kitty (who is over 16, god-damnit), Jubilee (also older than they claim), Jean Grey, etc., etc. The JBI on Bermuda is a slightly different Inn. It's for the people who died needlessly. (Romany is on loan from the original JBI for a few weeks). © 2005 ALC Punk! |