“What? What did I do now, Aeryn?” Crichton asked, sighing. “Did I breathe funny while we were up there? Didn’t have the right look on my face or something? *What*?” He climbed down from the module, tired from hours of fruitless flying, hours of useless work that had not produced either a wormhole or one scrap of useable data. Tired of Aeyrn’s unending flow of demeaning commentary. *I’m tired of Aeryn and her shit*, he thought, feeling flayed raw by her sarcasm. *Woman uses her tongue like a razor blade.*

“Nothing, Crichton.” Aeryn snapped, jerking her gloves off with staccato, sharp gestures.

“Nothing, my ass! You know, I can go up and gather data by myself now -- I don’t need you to hold my hand. I don’t know what you even bother going with me for anyway -- all you do is yell at me about every goddamn thing I do. What crawled up your ass and died, huh?”

She turned on him. “I did *not* hear that correctly, Crichton, and I would advise you not to repeat it.” she said tightly.

Something snapped. He was oh so tired of this, and this was it. This was the line. He felt an unfamiliar smile stretching his face. *Oh, fuck it*, he thought, *she deserves this. This is gonna be fun*. “Oh, microbes couldn’t handle that one? How about this -- why are you such a bitch?” He moved up close to her, invading her space, crowding her. “I’m sick of being your punching bag. It’s gonna stop.”

“*What* did you call me?” she said slowly. Her hands fisted, she crowded him right back, face to face with him.

“Gee, are you hard of hearing? Microbes still not getting me? I called you a bitch. A cold, ball-cutting *bitch*.”

Her hand drew back, her face pale with rage. Crichton caught her wrist before the blow could land, staring her down. “Ah-ah, none of that PeaceKeeper shit, honey. I fell for that once. It ain’t gonna happen again.” She tried to twist away, lashed out with a foot that caught Crichton above the knee. Chuffing out a pained breath, he jerked her around, pulling her arm up behind her back. He held her away from his body, dodging her backward kicks and flailing free arm, leaning forward at the waist to speak into her ear.

“I told you if you ever tried that one again, you’d better make sure I didn’t wake up. You lost your chance, sweetheart. Now we’re gonna have that serious talk I promised you, and you are going to listen, I guarantee it.”

“I’m going to kill you, Crichton!” Aeryn yelled, struggling against the hand holding her arm behind her.

“Maybe so. But I promise you I’m gonna get my point across to you first.” He yanked up on the arm he held, and she could feel her shoulder wrenching, twisting in the socket. She stopped struggling, standing tense, back arched, waiting for him to make a mistake so that she could get loose and kill him. Slowly.

He laughed, understanding. “You just keep thinking, Butch, that’s what you’re good at. You’re not getting out of it this time, Aeryn. You pushed it too far, and I am going to start pushing back. I’m tired of being nice. This is your dance, babe. You bought it with that sharp fucking tongue of yours, and now you’re gonna pay for it.” He reached around and ripped her comm badge off, stuffing it in his pocket. She opened her mouth to yell for Pilot, and he clamped his hand over it, muzzling her.

“Come on, sweetcheeks. Let’s go.”

He half shoved, half carried her into the storage compartment, her fighting every inch of the way. Hitting the door control with his elbow, he locked the door, glancing around to make sure no mechanical eyes were watching. Satisfied, he turned his attention to the squirming, hissing armful he was trying to keep hold of.

“Aeryn, listen to me. I’m gonna move my hand off your mouth, and you are going to be quiet. Understand?”

She shook her head, and he sighed, pulling up on her arm again. She gave a sharp, smothered gasp, and then nodded.

Smiling, he took his hand away and triggered his own comm badge. “Hey, D’Argo.”

“Yes, Crichton.” D’Argo’s voice answered.

“I need your help, big guy. Can you meet me in the rear storage compartment on tier 14?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just have a little --”

“D’Argo! This is Aeryn -- Crichton is crazy, he’s --” Aeryn yelled. Sighing again, Crichton clamped his hand back over her mouth.

“Crichton? What is going on?” D’Argo said, sounding concerned.

“I think Aeryn needs a lesson or two. Like the other night, if you get me.” Crichton said.

“Crichton, I don’t understand.”

“I’ll explain it when you get here. Just bring me the stuff out of the drawer by my bed, OK?”

“Oh. I see. Are you sure, John?” D’Argo asked, and Crichton could hear the dawning comprehension and amusement in his lover’s voice.

“Absolutely. Hurry up, all right?”

“I understand.” The frequency cut off, and Crichton leaned down again to speak pleasantly into Aeryn’s ear. “Don’t worry, babe. Help’s on the way -- problem is, it isn’t gonna help *you* much.” She threw another kick behind her in answer, and he laughed softly.