a Christmas smooch
515 words, PG
Rodney is having a good time, enjoying the gratuitous amounts of food the military cooks and Drs Kerel and Mazeni thought up for Christmas dinner. Mr Woolsey has assumed control of the central ipod, so the music coming out of the mess hall’s speakers is actually tasteful. None of Rodney’s team has been injured in weeks. Ronon and Teyla seem happy, Rodney and John are good, finally, and while he couldn’t travel to Earth this year, earlier he had a pleasant long-longer-longest-distance-call with Jeannie.
In short, everything is as close to perfect as things come, so naturally, Rodney feels a lump of dread form in his stomach when a nervous-looking Lorne sidles up to their table.
“What’s up, Major?” John asks good-naturedly. He hasn’t been eating as much as Rodney or Ronon, but he’s in as much of a good mood as the rest of them.
“Sir,” says Lorne, righting himself up in a way he hasn’t done in front of John in years. “Dr. McKay.”
“What,” Rodney says, wariness sliding into irritation now. “Out with it!”
Lorne seems to stand straighter still, looks at John again, who isn’t smiling anymore, leaning forward in his seat. “Sir,” he repeats, “Dr. McKay. We, that is, the marines and airmen and… well, basically, all the soldiers, we got you something.”
It’s then that Rodney notices that Major Teldy, Sergeant Mehra, Lieutenant Gordon and basically every member of the military are watching them. The scientists are quickly catching on, too, and soon they’re at the center of attention of everyone in the room.
“Well, what is it?” he asks impatiently. He tries not to show it, but he’s a little relieved - if it’s a present, it’s a joke at worst, but whatever is happening, it’s nothing bad.
Clearing his throat, Lorne reaches inside his uniform jacket and, a little more clumsily than he probably would have liked, produces a mistletoe.
Rodney stares at it. Then he cuts a quick look at John, who is staring at the thing in Lorne’s hand, too.
“We just,” says Lorne, “well, since last week it’s only a matter of time, so, basically, we just wanted to tell you we know.”
John is looking at all the soldiers in the room now, who are sitting up straighter but grinning rather madly, too.
For once, Rodney has no idea what to say.
Eventually, John takes a deep breath and tells Lorne, “Well, in that case, Major, would you do the honor?”
Tension seeping out of his stance, Lorne takes another step closer to them and holds the mistletoe up high over their heads. “Move a bit so they can see,” Ronon suggests, and he does. From across the room, Rodney can hear Miko giggling.
“Wait a minute,” he protests, “this is not how this is mmmmmpf…”
John’s lips are warm and familiar against his own. So is the faint stubble scratching at his cheek as John goes to town.
The knowledge that all of Atlantis is watching is not. Clutching at John’s arms so he doesn’t lose his balance, Rodney decides that it’s awesome.
Rodney is having a good time, enjoying the gratuitous amounts of food the military cooks and Drs Kerel and Mazeni thought up for Christmas dinner. Mr Woolsey has assumed control of the central ipod, so the music coming out of the mess hall’s speakers is actually tasteful. None of Rodney’s team has been injured in weeks. Ronon and Teyla seem happy, Rodney and John are good, finally, and while he couldn’t travel to Earth this year, earlier he had a pleasant long-longer-longest-distance-call with Jeannie.
In short, everything is as close to perfect as things come, so naturally, Rodney feels a lump of dread form in his stomach when a nervous-looking Lorne sidles up to their table.
“What’s up, Major?” John asks good-naturedly. He hasn’t been eating as much as Rodney or Ronon, but he’s in as much of a good mood as the rest of them.
“Sir,” says Lorne, righting himself up in a way he hasn’t done in front of John in years. “Dr. McKay.”
“What,” Rodney says, wariness sliding into irritation now. “Out with it!”
Lorne seems to stand straighter still, looks at John again, who isn’t smiling anymore, leaning forward in his seat. “Sir,” he repeats, “Dr. McKay. We, that is, the marines and airmen and… well, basically, all the soldiers, we got you something.”
It’s then that Rodney notices that Major Teldy, Sergeant Mehra, Lieutenant Gordon and basically every member of the military are watching them. The scientists are quickly catching on, too, and soon they’re at the center of attention of everyone in the room.
“Well, what is it?” he asks impatiently. He tries not to show it, but he’s a little relieved - if it’s a present, it’s a joke at worst, but whatever is happening, it’s nothing bad.
Clearing his throat, Lorne reaches inside his uniform jacket and, a little more clumsily than he probably would have liked, produces a mistletoe.
Rodney stares at it. Then he cuts a quick look at John, who is staring at the thing in Lorne’s hand, too.
“We just,” says Lorne, “well, since last week it’s only a matter of time, so, basically, we just wanted to tell you we know.”
John is looking at all the soldiers in the room now, who are sitting up straighter but grinning rather madly, too.
For once, Rodney has no idea what to say.
Eventually, John takes a deep breath and tells Lorne, “Well, in that case, Major, would you do the honor?”
Tension seeping out of his stance, Lorne takes another step closer to them and holds the mistletoe up high over their heads. “Move a bit so they can see,” Ronon suggests, and he does. From across the room, Rodney can hear Miko giggling.
“Wait a minute,” he protests, “this is not how this is mmmmmpf…”
John’s lips are warm and familiar against his own. So is the faint stubble scratching at his cheek as John goes to town.
The knowledge that all of Atlantis is watching is not. Clutching at John’s arms so he doesn’t lose his balance, Rodney decides that it’s awesome.