TITLE: "Boyfriends"

AUTHOR: Aiobheann

RATING: R Harsh language, implied m/m sexual activity.

PAIRING: John/D'Argo

SUMMARY: Humor. John wants a clarification of the status of his and D'Argo's relationship. The rest of the crew gets a free show.

NOTES: This one is for Jessi, who started it with her sig line: "Definition of the Month:

Umfriend: - A sexual relationship of dubious standing or a concealed but intimate relationship, as in: 'This is John, my ... um ...friend.'" No redeeming value, just trying to get my writing jumpstarted after school-vacation-induced writers' block.

DISCLAIMER: They aren't mine. More's the pity. They belong to Henson, and I promise no copyright infringement is intended -- just good smutty fun. Only thewords are mine. Aiobheann, 2000.

ARCHIVE: WWOMB, if PEJA wants this trifle, Smutscape, and FSA.

by Aiobheann

"Are you ever going to tell anyone about me?"

"About you?" D'Argo creased his brow in puzzlement, suddenly pulled out of a pleasant post-coital doze by the plaintive questioning of his bedmate. "What do you mean, about you?"

"About us. About, you know -- " John gestured around, a sweeping motion that seemed indicative of the room, with its piles of clothing strewn about, John's clothing mingling chummily with D'Argo's; the bed, whose sheets had slid to the floor and in which there was a decidedly uncomfortable wet spot which D'Argo was now keenly aware of now that he was awake; and the two of them, arms and legs tangled together and sealed in some places with cooling sweat and come. " -- about us sleeping together."

"I doubt there's anyone on the ship who does not know already," D'Argo said. "You talk just as much in bed as you do out of it. And loudly."

"That's not the same thing." John disentangled himself from D'Argo, propping up on one elbow to glare balefully at him. "I know they all *know*, but the point is that you haven't *said* anything."

"Why should I?" D'Argo demanded, also rolling over to prop himself up on one elbow, as much to get out of the wet spot as to look at John. "If they already know, then there's no point. Should I just march into the center chamber and announce that you and I are frelling when anyone with ears just heard you yelling for me to 'do it harder'?"

"The *point* is that I don't want to go on being your umfriend."

"I have no clue what you just said."

"An umfriend is when you introduce someone you're sleeping with, but you don't want anyone to *know* you're sleeping with them -- like, 'This is John, my...um...friend.'"

"What would you have me call you, then?"

"I don't know -- I guess boyfriend would be okay."

A strange expression dawned on D'Argo's face, composed of equal parts amazement, barely suppressed mirth, and renewed lust.

"What?" John asked testily. "Let me guess: microbe mistranslation."

"To say the least. Among Luxan warriors, a 'boyfriend' is a young male camp follower."

"You mean a whore?"

After a moment's consideration, D'Argo nodded, reaching out to stroke the curve of John's hip. "In a sense."

"Great," John groaned. Then he brightened. "So if I call you my boyfriend, essentially I'm saying you're my 'ho? That's kind of weird-but-hot, I guess."

The expression on D'Argo's face had narrowed down to mostly lust, and John recognized the gleam in his eyes -- apparently, D'Argo also found the idea intriguing.

"John?"

"What?"

"Will you be my...boyfriend?"

John pretended to give the idea serious consideration, which was increasingly difficult given that D'Argo seemed intent on using his hands in ways that were more than a little distracting. "So, you want me to be your whore?"

"Mine and no one else's," D'Argo growled.

"On one condition," John said.

"What?"

"You have to tell everyone that we're together."

D'Argo growled again, and then flipped John over onto his back, moving to straddle John's hips. John was happily grinding up against him when he realized that D'Argo had leaned over, his attention not on John but on digging around on the floor. Smiling with triumph, he straightened up, his discarded tunic in his hands.

"What are you -- "

D'Argo activated his comm badge. "Pilot, I need to make an announcement."

"Certainly," Pilot's voice answered. "Done. You now have an open channel."

"I have an announcement to make. John is my boyfriend," D'Argo said into the comm badge, grinning wickedly at the blush spreading over John's face. He tossed his tunic behind him, leaning back on his heels over John and waiting, a *you dared me to* look on his face.

"Asshole," John said.

"Probably," D'Argo answered contentedly. "Happy now?"

"Delirious. Now that you've just told everyone on board that I'm your personal fuck-toy, what are you going to call me?"

D'Argo pretended to give the idea serious consideration, which was spoiled by John unceremoniously goosing him in the ass.

Laughing, he finally answered: "Mine."

And then he set about proving it.

* * * *

"Pilot? Aren't you going to close the channel?" Zhaan asked impishly.

"I was not asked to," Pilot returned, and Zhaan could have sworn he was smiling, just a bit, as much as Pilots can be said to smile.

END
"Boyfriends"