Title: Home Fires
Prompt:
writerverse challenge #01 quick fic #1 “One day I will find the right words, and they will be simple” (Jack Kerouac) & “This is the last night you’ll spend alone/Look me in the eyes so I know you’ll know/I’m everywhere you want me to be” (“The Last Night” by Skillet)
Bonus: western genre
Word Count: 467
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: Stargate Atlantis (AU)
Pairings: John Sheppard/Rodney McKay
Setting: sequel to
In the WestSummary: “I came back and the house was empty, and I thought… I thought…”
Note(s): originally posted to the
writerverse wv_library Home Fires
The cabin was empty when Rodney got back from collecting a new batch of soil samples.
It was meticulously neat inside, just like it had been since John had gotten strong enough to walk around on his own. The hearth had been neatly swept out, the breakfast dishes were drying beside the sink, all of Rodney’s scattered papers had been tidied, just like John did every day.
But John’s hat and coat were gone from the peg beside the door, and Rodney couldn’t even say that he was surprised. Some part of him had known that John wouldn’t be able to stay here, in the middle of nowhere, even with the US Army most likely still looking for him. John was charming, and personable, and outgoing- everything that Rodney was not- and while a little peace and quiet had probably been welcome for a time, but Rodney didn’t think he could have been happy for long, so far from civilization.
Ironically, the cabin felt so much smaller without John in it, like the rough-hewn wooden walls were closing in on him. Rodney took a deep breath, then opened both of the windows, and went to start a fire in the hearth. Making coffee was harder than he remembered, seeing as he hadn’t done it in over a month, but he managed it, and set the pot on the fire to percolate.
He had just picked up the two chipped mugs from the top of the mantle when the cabin door opened.
“Hey, you’re back early,” said John, hanging up his hat and shrugging out of his jacket. “You want to make me a cup while you’re at it, buddy?”
Rodney whirled, suddenly angry. “John Sheppard, what the hell is wrong with you?”
“Okay,” said John, warily. “I guess I can make my own cup.”
“Where the hell have you been?” Rodney demanded. “I came back and the house was empty, and I thought… I thought…”
John’s expression softened. “You thought I’d left,” he said. “For good.”
“It was a distinct possibility,” said Rodney.
“I was only out checking on the fences,” said John. “I shot a rabbit for dinner, I was planning to make that stew you liked so much.”
“Really?” Rodney said, brightening. “I love you.”
John froze, his back turned to hang up his coat. “McKay…”
“I love you,” Rodney repeated. “When I thought you’d left, I realized… I would regret never having said those three simple words.”
“I’d regret never having heard them,” John said, softly. He turned, holding out one hand, and waited until Rodney took it. “I’m staying. With you. Because I… I…”
“You don’t have to say it back,” said Rodney. “I know.”
John grinned and kissed him, slow and sweet. “This is home, now,” he said, and Rodney grinned back.
THE END
Current Mood:
snowy