TEAM PLAY: dead of night, "Mamihlapinatapai"
Title: Mamihlapinatapai
Author: clavally
Team: Play
Prompt: dead of night
Pairing(s): McKay/Sheppard
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Notes: Many thanks to danceswithgary and mirror_mirrin for the great beta reads!
Summary: A midnight festival with boats, meteor showers and personal revelations.
Once you've read the story, please take a moment to vote in the poll below. Ratings go from 1 (low) to 9 (high), so all you need to do is enter a single number in that range into each text entry box. You'll be able to see the Prompt and Team (Genre) information in the header above.
More details about the voting procedure can be found here.
**
Mamihlapinatapai: A look shared by two people with each wishing that the other will initiate something that both desire but which neither one wants to start.
When Teyla requests company for the Midnight Festival on PRX-279, and Rodney volunteers even after finding out what it entails, it raises some eyebrows. John worries for the next week there will be rumors or suspicions followed by uncomfortable questions, but no one says anything. He reminds himself there are ten other people accompanying them, and no one will automatically think Rodney is braving a native festival to spend time with him.
At least, John thinks that’s why Rodney is going.
They don’t talk about what happened on the last overnight mission. During meals he sits across from Rodney, who waves his hands and talks animatedly, and John isn’t paying attention. He’s studying the curve of Rodney’s lips, the shape of his shoulders. He knows he’s tasted those lips and felt those hands, but they don’t discuss it and it feels like an elaborate fantasy rather than a secret.
So John hopes Rodney agreed to come along to spend time with him, but he watches Rodney across the conference table, and wonders if any of the night was real and if Rodney even wants to revisit it.
A week later they pack up and head through the stargate for the festival. It is a few hours after sunset when they step out of the gate. They step into sheer chaos with groups of people laughing and tying packs on animals John doesn’t recognize. Children run and laugh and dodge in and out of the clusters of adults. He does a head count to make sure they’re all accounted for and asks Teyla, “What happens now?”
“We wait for the last few parties to arrive and then we’ll walk as a group to the lake,” she says.
She puts Torren down, and he immediately picks up the local equivalent of a pine cone gives it to Rodney, who lists some facts about coniferous trees for him. Torren turns away in the middle of the speech and finds another one, which he also gives to Rodney. Rodney looks down at his haul and then at Torren, who is searching for a third pine cone, and says, “I’ll just hold these then, shall I?”
Teyla and John both laugh, and Rodney gives them a dirty look.
A few more groups arrive and a man stands up in the clearing and says, “Welcome to the festival. I am Burrin. You may rent your glides from me if you do not already have one. May this show be a good one!” Some people cheer at that and everyone picks up their things and follows him down the path.
“That was it?” John says.
“Did you want a longer speech?” Teyla says and raises an eyebrow at him.
“No, no,” John says. “Short was good.”
Teyla smirks, picks up Torren and they start down the path with the crowd. The way is lined with tiny round lanterns in bright orange, magenta and green. On the way, Teyla tells them the lake they’re heading to is in the caldera of a long extinct volcano, and they’ll have to hike a mile up through the pine forest to reach it.
Rodney grumbles about being made to hike on his day off, but the incline is so gradual it barely registers they’re moving up until they cross through a small thicket of trees. John stops short at the sight before them. They’re standing on the edge of a crater, which drops about fifty feet with a lake directly in the center. The lake isn’t too remarkable. What is remarkable, is the sheer number of floating balls of colored light on it. The balls are domed boats of different sizes, each with unique colors and patterns like brightly lit Christmas ornaments.
“Wow,” says Rodney and John just nods in agreement. There really isn’t another word to describe it.
“Indeed,” says Teyla. “It is always quite a sight to behold.”
She is smiling and hugging Torren close to her. Kanaan ruffles Torren’s hair and takes two bags from her before continuing down the path. She points off toward the small dock and says, “We should see Burrin about getting our own glides for the evening. It is almost time for the launch.” John nods and their group makes its way to the large hut by the shore.
The hut reminds John of a surf shop. The walls are lined with large triangles of brightly colored cloth, which he realizes will unfold to create the coverings for the boats. In the back of the tent, sit the bases, which are large, shallow, wooden circles and look like the type of sled John used to have as a kid. Rodney is looking through a stack, when he notices John watching and beckons him closer.
“Look at this workmanship. It’s incredible.” Rodney says and runs his hand along the curve of the base he’s been admiring. The wood isn’t uniform in color and, on closer inspection, each one has a distinct pattern worked into it of geometrical shapes in different shades of wood. John runs his hand along the same curve and says, “Cool.”
He wanders back to where Teyla is haggling with the owner. Burrin nods at Teyla and pulls down 5 of the bundles of long, thin reeds that hang from the ceiling. He hands them over and then gestures to the fabric triangles on his right. “You may choose from any on this wall.”
“Thank you, Burrin.” Teyla says.
“A pleasure as always, Teyla.” He says. He moves to the back and quickly goes through the bases before he settles on some that meet some unknown criteria, and then pushes them towards Rodney, who looks unsure of this development and thanks him uncertainly.
John ducks his head to hide his smile and looks over the wall of cloth. He’s surprised by the variety of colors. Somehow, he’s been under the impression that bright colors were taboo in the Pegasus galaxy. He figured maybe there was a superstition that wearing them would attract the Wraith or it was disrespectful or something. The cloth on this wall is a riot of color and pattern unlike anything he’s seen before in Pegasus.
“Hey, Teyla,” says John. “Do these colors and patterns mean something?”
“Yes,” Teyla says, “but it is a personal choice. Choose whichever you feel best portrays what you want to tell the universe.” She smiles and selects a triangle of deep blue with a spiral of fiery orange and dots of gold.
“Oh.” John says. ”Hey, Rodney,” he calls, “what color do you want? Anything you want to say to the universe?” He’s nervous then, because they haven’t discusses who will go in which boat and with whom. He hopes he isn’t presuming too much.
“Huh?” Rodney says. He drags his attention away from the glide bases long enough to wave his arm in the direction of the wall and say, “Whatever you want, I don’t care.”
With relief, John turns back to the wall of color. Ronon pushes past him and grabs a bright fuchsia triangle with blue and white polka dots that reminds John of a clown costume. He suppresses a shudder and says, “Colorful.”
Ronon shrugs, “It’s bright. I like it.”
John turns back to the wall of “universal communication” and grabs the first thing within reach, not really caring what he picks up. Only, when he looks at it, he notices it’s the exact shade of blue of Rodney’s eyes, and there are embroidered lines weaving through it that remind John of the lines on a navigational chart in alternating shades of gold and red and an edge of dark mossy green.
When he shows his selection to Rodney, Rodney runs his fingertips over the edge and says, “Hey, this green matches your eyes,” and John smiles, absurdly happy.
At the dock, Teyla shows them all how to slip the reeds into the base and fasten the cover over them. Rodney complains he shouldn’t have to pitch a tent when they aren’t on a mission. Ronon has his together so fast, he and Amelia are out in the water before John and Rodney have all their reeds in place.
When they’re ready to launch, Teyla hands them a stack of dishes, two mugs and the packages of food. “It is customary,” she says, “to share something with those you bump into, whether that be food, drink or trinkets of some kind.” With that, she gives them a smile, hands over a knapsack that John hasn’t noticed she was carrying, and goes off to help Kanaan finish readying their glide.
Curious, John opens the bag and laughs. It is full of handful-sized balls of popcorn wrapped in a lacy material and tied with string. He shows the contents to Rodney, who says, “Well, that explains why she kept requesting extra popcorn for the past couple of supply runs. She must have been saving up for this.”
It’s a little after midnight by the time they get into the water. Up close, the boats look even more like Christmas ornaments. The reeds bend out before bending up to create a true sphere. The blue of their cover only comes down part way so they can still see and reach a small oar into the water to steer when they need to. It is surprisingly comfortable with the floor covered in throws and pillows, and one of the globe lanterns hangs from the ceiling to cast soft light.
For the next two hours, they bump into other glides and share food and drink and then float away to bump into others. One couple they meet insists they try some berry beer. It’s tradition they tell them, so John and Rodney both dump the water out of their thermoses and accept a generous portion of spirits. Others give them sweets, dried meat and seed cakes. A small group of preteens in a smaller glide hand over an ornately decorated arrow with striped feathers. Still others hand them cloth and beads and even what looks like a wrench. They eat most of the perishables and stash the rest off to the side where they won’t accidentally crush anything.
The beer makes them both muzzy-headed, and John leans back in the glide to enjoy the gentle rocking of the boat and how it makes it feel like he’s flying. Even though it’s close to 2 A.M. the air is still warm, but a cool breeze has picked up and gives him goosebumps. He breathes in the pine and cedar smell of the glide mixed with spices and the remnants of campfires on shore, and it reminds him of New England autumns back on Earth.
All around them there is talk and laughter from the surrounding boats. Here and there are islands, where 5 or 6 have tied themselves together and turn and float as one on the water. Children laugh and jump from one to the next playing a form of tag. John thinks he sees Teyla and Kanaan’s glide in one such group not far from them.
On shore, someone blows a horn, and everywhere around them lights are going off and the colorful fabric is coming down. John blinks and watches Rodney take their light down and do something that makes their roof fold down like a convertible top.
Confused, John asks, “Hey, how did you know how to do that?”
“S’obvious.” Says Rodney, who John notes is sounding a bit drunk.
“Obvious?” Says John.
“Yeah,” says Rodney. “You just have to know how to do it.”
“Oh,” says John, uncertain about his logic, but figuring they’re both too drunk to pursue it.
Rodney finishes fastening the roof down and crumples next to John to watch the show -- a spectacular meteor shower that will peak with over 200 meteors an hour. Rodney talks to him about the stars in this part of the galaxy in lecture mode, as though he’s not slurring his words a bit. John wants to reach out and entwine their hands, but this is the thing they don’t talk about, and so they both lie there and discuss inane things and enjoy the light show the universe is putting on for them.
An hour goes by, maybe more, and eventually he notices movement in the other boats. Roofs are coming back up and people are settling down to sleep.
“Hey,” he nudges Rodney with an elbow. “Put the top up. It’s time for bed.”
Rodney yawns and crawls around to unlatch the roof and does something John misses, and the whole thing unfolds up into its original position. He unties a few laces and the green edging unfolds all the way down to give them complete privacy.
Rodney shrugs out of his shirt, and John’s breath hitches in his throat. He feels an electrical jolt of excitement and uncertainty. They sit across from each other and neither makes a move. John lets his eyes fall and looks over Rodney’s chest, remembers the feel of it under his hands, but can’t convince himself it happened and that he has the right to reach out and touch him again.
Rodney frowns and says, “So, we should...um, sleep.”
“Yeah,” says John, disappointed and confused.
They lay down next to each other and stare at the ceiling and listen to each other breath. Five minutes pass, and Rodney says, “This is stupid!” and rolls over to press himself against John and kiss him. John tells himself, This is really happening! and maybe next time they sit across from each other in the mess hall or in a meeting he’ll believe it.
Rodney straddles him and presses their cocks together between them. He wraps a hand around them to increase the pressure as he slides his cock up and down John’s. They have to be careful not to move too suddenly or forcefully, so the boat won’t rock and give them away. The pleasure builds in a slow and agonizing fire from his feet all the way up. Rodney leans down and kisses John on the mouth and then the neck, nipping and biting. John can’t help it, his hips hitch up against Rodney fast and hard and John is coming in sweet relief. He gives Rodney’s cock short quick strokes until he comes, too.
They lean their foreheads together and catch their breaths. John closes his eyes and feels Rodney’s breath soft against his face. He can smell the sweet-sour scent of the beer they’ve been drinking mixed with the sweat from their bodies and, right now, it’s his favorite smell in the whole galaxy.
Rodney’s hand comes up and cups John’s face and lifts it so they’re looking at each other. His thumb caresses John’s cheek, and he leans forward and kisses John's forehead, lets his lips linger there and then kisses his lips and collapses onto his back. John rolls over and throws an arm over him, content and hopeful this is a sign of things to come.
They wake in the morning, or rather early afternoon, to delicious smells coming from the cooking fires on shore. They stretch and dress, and then Rodney takes the roof down so they can see as they paddle back to the dock. Kanaan meets them there and breaks down the boat into its component pieces to return to Burrin.
They meet the rest of their group at one of the fires, and Rodney immediately looks more awake and leaves in search of a bowl.
John sits by the fire and Teyla hands him a cup of tea.
“Did you enjoy it?” she asks.
“It was good. Different,” John says.
Rodney returns with two bowls of stew and hands one to John. In between bites, he asks Teyla about the boat and its construction, and John watches him and waits to feel uneasy and disconnected, only it never happens.
Somehow, in the middle of the night, he let go of the fear that none of it is real. Rodney sits and talks and nudges him with his shoulder, and John still isn’t paying attention to what he’s saying. He’s too busy examining his new feeling of certainty and warmth.
John snaps out of it when Rodney leaves to track down the anthropologist who came with them from Atlantis.
John says, “What happened?”
“Dr. Espensen was annoyed with the festival,” Teyla says.
“Why?” he asks. He’s not sure why anyone would have a problem with this festival. It was one of the most relaxing festivals he’s been to even if they were awake half the night. Usually, when they get invited to things like this, there’s lots of talking and praying or running for the gate because there’s been a horrible misunderstanding.
“I believe his research deals primarily with religious and native customs pertaining to the Ancients and this is neither.”
“It isn’t?” he asks.
“No. Someone long ago noticed the meteor showers. Over time, more and more people came to see them until it became customary to have a gathering to connect with old friends and watch it,” she says.
“So this all happens because you all think it’s fun?” he says.
She nods and something clicks in his brain.
“Hey, wait a minute.” He says, “You told me to pick a cover based on what I wanted to tell the universe!”
Teyla smiles, “It is a personal custom based on years of observation.”
“Oh,” he says. “Well, I didn’t have much to say to the universe anyway.”
”Perhaps, it was the universe that wanted to tell you something?” she says and looks past him.
He turns to follow her gaze and sees Rodney through the trees talking to the miffed scientist.
“Yeah,” he says, “Maybe you’re right.”
He wonders how much Burrin will charge him to buy their glide.
**
Poll
Author: clavally
Team: Play
Prompt: dead of night
Pairing(s): McKay/Sheppard
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Notes: Many thanks to danceswithgary and mirror_mirrin for the great beta reads!
Summary: A midnight festival with boats, meteor showers and personal revelations.
Once you've read the story, please take a moment to vote in the poll below. Ratings go from 1 (low) to 9 (high), so all you need to do is enter a single number in that range into each text entry box. You'll be able to see the Prompt and Team (Genre) information in the header above.
More details about the voting procedure can be found here.
**
Mamihlapinatapai: A look shared by two people with each wishing that the other will initiate something that both desire but which neither one wants to start.
When Teyla requests company for the Midnight Festival on PRX-279, and Rodney volunteers even after finding out what it entails, it raises some eyebrows. John worries for the next week there will be rumors or suspicions followed by uncomfortable questions, but no one says anything. He reminds himself there are ten other people accompanying them, and no one will automatically think Rodney is braving a native festival to spend time with him.
At least, John thinks that’s why Rodney is going.
They don’t talk about what happened on the last overnight mission. During meals he sits across from Rodney, who waves his hands and talks animatedly, and John isn’t paying attention. He’s studying the curve of Rodney’s lips, the shape of his shoulders. He knows he’s tasted those lips and felt those hands, but they don’t discuss it and it feels like an elaborate fantasy rather than a secret.
So John hopes Rodney agreed to come along to spend time with him, but he watches Rodney across the conference table, and wonders if any of the night was real and if Rodney even wants to revisit it.
A week later they pack up and head through the stargate for the festival. It is a few hours after sunset when they step out of the gate. They step into sheer chaos with groups of people laughing and tying packs on animals John doesn’t recognize. Children run and laugh and dodge in and out of the clusters of adults. He does a head count to make sure they’re all accounted for and asks Teyla, “What happens now?”
“We wait for the last few parties to arrive and then we’ll walk as a group to the lake,” she says.
She puts Torren down, and he immediately picks up the local equivalent of a pine cone gives it to Rodney, who lists some facts about coniferous trees for him. Torren turns away in the middle of the speech and finds another one, which he also gives to Rodney. Rodney looks down at his haul and then at Torren, who is searching for a third pine cone, and says, “I’ll just hold these then, shall I?”
Teyla and John both laugh, and Rodney gives them a dirty look.
A few more groups arrive and a man stands up in the clearing and says, “Welcome to the festival. I am Burrin. You may rent your glides from me if you do not already have one. May this show be a good one!” Some people cheer at that and everyone picks up their things and follows him down the path.
“That was it?” John says.
“Did you want a longer speech?” Teyla says and raises an eyebrow at him.
“No, no,” John says. “Short was good.”
Teyla smirks, picks up Torren and they start down the path with the crowd. The way is lined with tiny round lanterns in bright orange, magenta and green. On the way, Teyla tells them the lake they’re heading to is in the caldera of a long extinct volcano, and they’ll have to hike a mile up through the pine forest to reach it.
Rodney grumbles about being made to hike on his day off, but the incline is so gradual it barely registers they’re moving up until they cross through a small thicket of trees. John stops short at the sight before them. They’re standing on the edge of a crater, which drops about fifty feet with a lake directly in the center. The lake isn’t too remarkable. What is remarkable, is the sheer number of floating balls of colored light on it. The balls are domed boats of different sizes, each with unique colors and patterns like brightly lit Christmas ornaments.
“Wow,” says Rodney and John just nods in agreement. There really isn’t another word to describe it.
“Indeed,” says Teyla. “It is always quite a sight to behold.”
She is smiling and hugging Torren close to her. Kanaan ruffles Torren’s hair and takes two bags from her before continuing down the path. She points off toward the small dock and says, “We should see Burrin about getting our own glides for the evening. It is almost time for the launch.” John nods and their group makes its way to the large hut by the shore.
The hut reminds John of a surf shop. The walls are lined with large triangles of brightly colored cloth, which he realizes will unfold to create the coverings for the boats. In the back of the tent, sit the bases, which are large, shallow, wooden circles and look like the type of sled John used to have as a kid. Rodney is looking through a stack, when he notices John watching and beckons him closer.
“Look at this workmanship. It’s incredible.” Rodney says and runs his hand along the curve of the base he’s been admiring. The wood isn’t uniform in color and, on closer inspection, each one has a distinct pattern worked into it of geometrical shapes in different shades of wood. John runs his hand along the same curve and says, “Cool.”
He wanders back to where Teyla is haggling with the owner. Burrin nods at Teyla and pulls down 5 of the bundles of long, thin reeds that hang from the ceiling. He hands them over and then gestures to the fabric triangles on his right. “You may choose from any on this wall.”
“Thank you, Burrin.” Teyla says.
“A pleasure as always, Teyla.” He says. He moves to the back and quickly goes through the bases before he settles on some that meet some unknown criteria, and then pushes them towards Rodney, who looks unsure of this development and thanks him uncertainly.
John ducks his head to hide his smile and looks over the wall of cloth. He’s surprised by the variety of colors. Somehow, he’s been under the impression that bright colors were taboo in the Pegasus galaxy. He figured maybe there was a superstition that wearing them would attract the Wraith or it was disrespectful or something. The cloth on this wall is a riot of color and pattern unlike anything he’s seen before in Pegasus.
“Hey, Teyla,” says John. “Do these colors and patterns mean something?”
“Yes,” Teyla says, “but it is a personal choice. Choose whichever you feel best portrays what you want to tell the universe.” She smiles and selects a triangle of deep blue with a spiral of fiery orange and dots of gold.
“Oh.” John says. ”Hey, Rodney,” he calls, “what color do you want? Anything you want to say to the universe?” He’s nervous then, because they haven’t discusses who will go in which boat and with whom. He hopes he isn’t presuming too much.
“Huh?” Rodney says. He drags his attention away from the glide bases long enough to wave his arm in the direction of the wall and say, “Whatever you want, I don’t care.”
With relief, John turns back to the wall of color. Ronon pushes past him and grabs a bright fuchsia triangle with blue and white polka dots that reminds John of a clown costume. He suppresses a shudder and says, “Colorful.”
Ronon shrugs, “It’s bright. I like it.”
John turns back to the wall of “universal communication” and grabs the first thing within reach, not really caring what he picks up. Only, when he looks at it, he notices it’s the exact shade of blue of Rodney’s eyes, and there are embroidered lines weaving through it that remind John of the lines on a navigational chart in alternating shades of gold and red and an edge of dark mossy green.
When he shows his selection to Rodney, Rodney runs his fingertips over the edge and says, “Hey, this green matches your eyes,” and John smiles, absurdly happy.
At the dock, Teyla shows them all how to slip the reeds into the base and fasten the cover over them. Rodney complains he shouldn’t have to pitch a tent when they aren’t on a mission. Ronon has his together so fast, he and Amelia are out in the water before John and Rodney have all their reeds in place.
When they’re ready to launch, Teyla hands them a stack of dishes, two mugs and the packages of food. “It is customary,” she says, “to share something with those you bump into, whether that be food, drink or trinkets of some kind.” With that, she gives them a smile, hands over a knapsack that John hasn’t noticed she was carrying, and goes off to help Kanaan finish readying their glide.
Curious, John opens the bag and laughs. It is full of handful-sized balls of popcorn wrapped in a lacy material and tied with string. He shows the contents to Rodney, who says, “Well, that explains why she kept requesting extra popcorn for the past couple of supply runs. She must have been saving up for this.”
It’s a little after midnight by the time they get into the water. Up close, the boats look even more like Christmas ornaments. The reeds bend out before bending up to create a true sphere. The blue of their cover only comes down part way so they can still see and reach a small oar into the water to steer when they need to. It is surprisingly comfortable with the floor covered in throws and pillows, and one of the globe lanterns hangs from the ceiling to cast soft light.
For the next two hours, they bump into other glides and share food and drink and then float away to bump into others. One couple they meet insists they try some berry beer. It’s tradition they tell them, so John and Rodney both dump the water out of their thermoses and accept a generous portion of spirits. Others give them sweets, dried meat and seed cakes. A small group of preteens in a smaller glide hand over an ornately decorated arrow with striped feathers. Still others hand them cloth and beads and even what looks like a wrench. They eat most of the perishables and stash the rest off to the side where they won’t accidentally crush anything.
The beer makes them both muzzy-headed, and John leans back in the glide to enjoy the gentle rocking of the boat and how it makes it feel like he’s flying. Even though it’s close to 2 A.M. the air is still warm, but a cool breeze has picked up and gives him goosebumps. He breathes in the pine and cedar smell of the glide mixed with spices and the remnants of campfires on shore, and it reminds him of New England autumns back on Earth.
All around them there is talk and laughter from the surrounding boats. Here and there are islands, where 5 or 6 have tied themselves together and turn and float as one on the water. Children laugh and jump from one to the next playing a form of tag. John thinks he sees Teyla and Kanaan’s glide in one such group not far from them.
On shore, someone blows a horn, and everywhere around them lights are going off and the colorful fabric is coming down. John blinks and watches Rodney take their light down and do something that makes their roof fold down like a convertible top.
Confused, John asks, “Hey, how did you know how to do that?”
“S’obvious.” Says Rodney, who John notes is sounding a bit drunk.
“Obvious?” Says John.
“Yeah,” says Rodney. “You just have to know how to do it.”
“Oh,” says John, uncertain about his logic, but figuring they’re both too drunk to pursue it.
Rodney finishes fastening the roof down and crumples next to John to watch the show -- a spectacular meteor shower that will peak with over 200 meteors an hour. Rodney talks to him about the stars in this part of the galaxy in lecture mode, as though he’s not slurring his words a bit. John wants to reach out and entwine their hands, but this is the thing they don’t talk about, and so they both lie there and discuss inane things and enjoy the light show the universe is putting on for them.
An hour goes by, maybe more, and eventually he notices movement in the other boats. Roofs are coming back up and people are settling down to sleep.
“Hey,” he nudges Rodney with an elbow. “Put the top up. It’s time for bed.”
Rodney yawns and crawls around to unlatch the roof and does something John misses, and the whole thing unfolds up into its original position. He unties a few laces and the green edging unfolds all the way down to give them complete privacy.
Rodney shrugs out of his shirt, and John’s breath hitches in his throat. He feels an electrical jolt of excitement and uncertainty. They sit across from each other and neither makes a move. John lets his eyes fall and looks over Rodney’s chest, remembers the feel of it under his hands, but can’t convince himself it happened and that he has the right to reach out and touch him again.
Rodney frowns and says, “So, we should...um, sleep.”
“Yeah,” says John, disappointed and confused.
They lay down next to each other and stare at the ceiling and listen to each other breath. Five minutes pass, and Rodney says, “This is stupid!” and rolls over to press himself against John and kiss him. John tells himself, This is really happening! and maybe next time they sit across from each other in the mess hall or in a meeting he’ll believe it.
Rodney straddles him and presses their cocks together between them. He wraps a hand around them to increase the pressure as he slides his cock up and down John’s. They have to be careful not to move too suddenly or forcefully, so the boat won’t rock and give them away. The pleasure builds in a slow and agonizing fire from his feet all the way up. Rodney leans down and kisses John on the mouth and then the neck, nipping and biting. John can’t help it, his hips hitch up against Rodney fast and hard and John is coming in sweet relief. He gives Rodney’s cock short quick strokes until he comes, too.
They lean their foreheads together and catch their breaths. John closes his eyes and feels Rodney’s breath soft against his face. He can smell the sweet-sour scent of the beer they’ve been drinking mixed with the sweat from their bodies and, right now, it’s his favorite smell in the whole galaxy.
Rodney’s hand comes up and cups John’s face and lifts it so they’re looking at each other. His thumb caresses John’s cheek, and he leans forward and kisses John's forehead, lets his lips linger there and then kisses his lips and collapses onto his back. John rolls over and throws an arm over him, content and hopeful this is a sign of things to come.
They wake in the morning, or rather early afternoon, to delicious smells coming from the cooking fires on shore. They stretch and dress, and then Rodney takes the roof down so they can see as they paddle back to the dock. Kanaan meets them there and breaks down the boat into its component pieces to return to Burrin.
They meet the rest of their group at one of the fires, and Rodney immediately looks more awake and leaves in search of a bowl.
John sits by the fire and Teyla hands him a cup of tea.
“Did you enjoy it?” she asks.
“It was good. Different,” John says.
Rodney returns with two bowls of stew and hands one to John. In between bites, he asks Teyla about the boat and its construction, and John watches him and waits to feel uneasy and disconnected, only it never happens.
Somehow, in the middle of the night, he let go of the fear that none of it is real. Rodney sits and talks and nudges him with his shoulder, and John still isn’t paying attention to what he’s saying. He’s too busy examining his new feeling of certainty and warmth.
John snaps out of it when Rodney leaves to track down the anthropologist who came with them from Atlantis.
John says, “What happened?”
“Dr. Espensen was annoyed with the festival,” Teyla says.
“Why?” he asks. He’s not sure why anyone would have a problem with this festival. It was one of the most relaxing festivals he’s been to even if they were awake half the night. Usually, when they get invited to things like this, there’s lots of talking and praying or running for the gate because there’s been a horrible misunderstanding.
“I believe his research deals primarily with religious and native customs pertaining to the Ancients and this is neither.”
“It isn’t?” he asks.
“No. Someone long ago noticed the meteor showers. Over time, more and more people came to see them until it became customary to have a gathering to connect with old friends and watch it,” she says.
“So this all happens because you all think it’s fun?” he says.
She nods and something clicks in his brain.
“Hey, wait a minute.” He says, “You told me to pick a cover based on what I wanted to tell the universe!”
Teyla smiles, “It is a personal custom based on years of observation.”
“Oh,” he says. “Well, I didn’t have much to say to the universe anyway.”
”Perhaps, it was the universe that wanted to tell you something?” she says and looks past him.
He turns to follow her gaze and sees Rodney through the trees talking to the miffed scientist.
“Yeah,” he says, “Maybe you’re right.”
He wonders how much Burrin will charge him to buy their glide.
**
Poll