The Homecoming King (SGA, Lorne/Weir)
Title: The Homecoming King
Author: plum (zeplum)
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Pairing: Lorne/Weir
Rating: T, but just for a couple of "bad" words
Notes: This pretty much all came about because of sdraevn's post on The Lost Boys. The Test belongs to her, and the Island bit was influenced (unwittingly) by ladysorka. The first name was suggested by resmin, and who am I to deny my twin?
Heartfelt thanks to serialkarma for the hand holding and the beta. I'm so happy you like the mush, even if it's what I hadn't intended.
One day Cadman makes a crack that they're all here because they failed the Bambi test back home.
"The criers got sent to Atlantis."
She says it like it it's a well known fact, and proceeds to steal the not-pudding from the Marine sitting next to her while the rest of the table argues the validity of this statement.
He should probably say something to her, but Cadman has spent extended time in McKay's head. He figures that would make anyone a little loopy.
*****
Nevertheless, he's thinking about it a few days later in a senior staff meeting. He looks around the room: Zelenka and McKay are arguing -- again. Colonel Sheppard is playing with a little piece of metal that Lorne's pretty sure he shouldn't be playing with, if the McKay-Zelenka feud is anything to go by. Teyla is trying not to laugh and/or roll her eyes at all of them, while Ronon stands behind her, looking at everyone like they're morons. And then there's Beckett. The doc has his head on the table, hands over his ears, trying to drown out whatever he can.
Lorne wants to lean over, tap Beckett on the shoulder and inform him that there's no hope for sanity, so he might as well come up for air. Instead he sits back and smirks. And then it hits him -- they really are the Island of Misfit Toys.
Only, in some respects, this is more like Misfit High. He can definitely remember classes like this, only there's less acne and no one's gossiping about who's taking who to the prom. Fuck, he hopes no one's thinking about throwing anything resembling a prom. The Athosian version of a pub crawl is about all he can handle these days.
Lorne presses the heals of his hands into his eyes. He's been here too long. He didn't cry at Bambi. Hell, there was no Bambi Test to begin with. He would've remembered, lodged a complaint with Amnesty International on the basis of a human rights violation, even.
And then Dr. Weir, clearly amused but needing to re-establish some order to this absurdity, says three words and everyone shuts up.
Lorne looks at her from the far end of the table and smiles. He might just be in love.
*****
Elizabeth reminds him strongly of his 12th grade history teacher. She always listened to their opinions, fostered class discussion, and quite often the corners of her mouth would quirk up just so.
She also had the best legs he'd ever seen and never took shit from anyone.
At the age of eighteen, Thomas Lorne knew he'd found the perfect woman. From that point on, he's subconsciously compared every other woman to her.
That is, until he meets Dr. Elizabeth Weir. Lorne decided that a new bar had to be set. And while he can't be sure, he'll bet Dr. Weir has even better legs.
*****
Strangely enough, since Colonel Sheppard and his team went missing, Lorne's happiest when he's not in the city. The few times he's been back to Atlantis since the search started have been difficult. The whole city carries a sense of unease and anxiety. Lorne thinks it's probably worst for the docs in the labs; at least his personnel get to participate in the search, feel like they're helping even though by now, realistically, it's all a lost cause.
So overall he prefers the nights when he's camped out under the stars, hoping against hope that this is finally the right planet. He dreads going home to face Elizabeth; delivering neutral sitreps over the radio is one thing, but delivering the news face to face is quite another.
As 2IC, he has been immediately thrust into the role of base commander. The role doesn't fit well -- he was never meant to be a desk jockey -- and he wonders if Sheppard felt this disjointed when he stepped into the role. But Dr. Weir doesn't want another replay of the Caldwell Incident, and frankly, Lorne isn't so hot on the idea either. He sucks it up and ends up spending a lot of time with Weir while he's not off-world, which suits him just fine.
Is it considered unseemly to have a crush at his age?
Possibly. But what's a crush if you don't act on it? Most of the time he just tries to remain pragmatic, and to get Elizabeth to smile even when she's trying to remain serious out of some misplaced sense of propriety.
It's impossibly cute when the corners of her mouth turn up like that. The warm feeling he gets stays with him days later when he's stuck on yet another god-forsaken planet searching for his wayward friends.
*****
Lorne wakes up slowly. The first thing he notices is Elizabeth, leaning in the doorway, positively glowing. The second thing he notices is the the req form -- in triplicate -- that's now stuck to the side of his head.
He absolutely has to stop sleeping at his desk, no matter the backlog of mindless paper pushing to be done.
"Dr. Weir?" His voice is low and sleep-groggy, and he rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes. "What's up?" He can't be bothered with the "ma'am", at this point, and it looks like she couldn't care less either.
"They've found them," she says quietly, but oh so happy.
Hearing those words, the constriction in his chest starts to ease. He's out of his chair like a shot, and without thinking about it, he's across the room and pulling Elizabeth into it. The door shuts behind her, but there's enough light flitering in through the blue and green glass in his door that he can still see her grinning like a school girl.
She's wringing her hands, getting rid of the nervous energy. He takes her hands in his to quiet them. They've never stood this close before, at least, not like this. It's comfortable, but unfamiliar.
"They're all right? All of them?"
Elizabeth nods. "For the most part, yes."
"Why am I not surprised? Those guys --"
"Yeah, those guys."
And the way she says it, he knows that she knows, and that's just the nudge he's needed.
So much time spent on worry and blind hope, all to be wiped away by kissing Elizabeth. She's warm, and soft, and comforting. She's home, the same way that Atlantis has become home. And she's hanging on to him as strongly as he's hanging on to her, and Lorne just wants to breathe her in --
And then they hear it; the gate alarm. They take off for the gate room in the blink of an eye and never look back. As Lorne figures it, they don't need to.
- end -
Author: plum (zeplum)
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Pairing: Lorne/Weir
Rating: T, but just for a couple of "bad" words
Notes: This pretty much all came about because of sdraevn's post on The Lost Boys. The Test belongs to her, and the Island bit was influenced (unwittingly) by ladysorka. The first name was suggested by resmin, and who am I to deny my twin?
Heartfelt thanks to serialkarma for the hand holding and the beta. I'm so happy you like the mush, even if it's what I hadn't intended.
One day Cadman makes a crack that they're all here because they failed the Bambi test back home.
"The criers got sent to Atlantis."
She says it like it it's a well known fact, and proceeds to steal the not-pudding from the Marine sitting next to her while the rest of the table argues the validity of this statement.
He should probably say something to her, but Cadman has spent extended time in McKay's head. He figures that would make anyone a little loopy.
*****
Nevertheless, he's thinking about it a few days later in a senior staff meeting. He looks around the room: Zelenka and McKay are arguing -- again. Colonel Sheppard is playing with a little piece of metal that Lorne's pretty sure he shouldn't be playing with, if the McKay-Zelenka feud is anything to go by. Teyla is trying not to laugh and/or roll her eyes at all of them, while Ronon stands behind her, looking at everyone like they're morons. And then there's Beckett. The doc has his head on the table, hands over his ears, trying to drown out whatever he can.
Lorne wants to lean over, tap Beckett on the shoulder and inform him that there's no hope for sanity, so he might as well come up for air. Instead he sits back and smirks. And then it hits him -- they really are the Island of Misfit Toys.
Only, in some respects, this is more like Misfit High. He can definitely remember classes like this, only there's less acne and no one's gossiping about who's taking who to the prom. Fuck, he hopes no one's thinking about throwing anything resembling a prom. The Athosian version of a pub crawl is about all he can handle these days.
Lorne presses the heals of his hands into his eyes. He's been here too long. He didn't cry at Bambi. Hell, there was no Bambi Test to begin with. He would've remembered, lodged a complaint with Amnesty International on the basis of a human rights violation, even.
And then Dr. Weir, clearly amused but needing to re-establish some order to this absurdity, says three words and everyone shuts up.
Lorne looks at her from the far end of the table and smiles. He might just be in love.
*****
Elizabeth reminds him strongly of his 12th grade history teacher. She always listened to their opinions, fostered class discussion, and quite often the corners of her mouth would quirk up just so.
She also had the best legs he'd ever seen and never took shit from anyone.
At the age of eighteen, Thomas Lorne knew he'd found the perfect woman. From that point on, he's subconsciously compared every other woman to her.
That is, until he meets Dr. Elizabeth Weir. Lorne decided that a new bar had to be set. And while he can't be sure, he'll bet Dr. Weir has even better legs.
*****
Strangely enough, since Colonel Sheppard and his team went missing, Lorne's happiest when he's not in the city. The few times he's been back to Atlantis since the search started have been difficult. The whole city carries a sense of unease and anxiety. Lorne thinks it's probably worst for the docs in the labs; at least his personnel get to participate in the search, feel like they're helping even though by now, realistically, it's all a lost cause.
So overall he prefers the nights when he's camped out under the stars, hoping against hope that this is finally the right planet. He dreads going home to face Elizabeth; delivering neutral sitreps over the radio is one thing, but delivering the news face to face is quite another.
As 2IC, he has been immediately thrust into the role of base commander. The role doesn't fit well -- he was never meant to be a desk jockey -- and he wonders if Sheppard felt this disjointed when he stepped into the role. But Dr. Weir doesn't want another replay of the Caldwell Incident, and frankly, Lorne isn't so hot on the idea either. He sucks it up and ends up spending a lot of time with Weir while he's not off-world, which suits him just fine.
Is it considered unseemly to have a crush at his age?
Possibly. But what's a crush if you don't act on it? Most of the time he just tries to remain pragmatic, and to get Elizabeth to smile even when she's trying to remain serious out of some misplaced sense of propriety.
It's impossibly cute when the corners of her mouth turn up like that. The warm feeling he gets stays with him days later when he's stuck on yet another god-forsaken planet searching for his wayward friends.
*****
Lorne wakes up slowly. The first thing he notices is Elizabeth, leaning in the doorway, positively glowing. The second thing he notices is the the req form -- in triplicate -- that's now stuck to the side of his head.
He absolutely has to stop sleeping at his desk, no matter the backlog of mindless paper pushing to be done.
"Dr. Weir?" His voice is low and sleep-groggy, and he rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes. "What's up?" He can't be bothered with the "ma'am", at this point, and it looks like she couldn't care less either.
"They've found them," she says quietly, but oh so happy.
Hearing those words, the constriction in his chest starts to ease. He's out of his chair like a shot, and without thinking about it, he's across the room and pulling Elizabeth into it. The door shuts behind her, but there's enough light flitering in through the blue and green glass in his door that he can still see her grinning like a school girl.
She's wringing her hands, getting rid of the nervous energy. He takes her hands in his to quiet them. They've never stood this close before, at least, not like this. It's comfortable, but unfamiliar.
"They're all right? All of them?"
Elizabeth nods. "For the most part, yes."
"Why am I not surprised? Those guys --"
"Yeah, those guys."
And the way she says it, he knows that she knows, and that's just the nudge he's needed.
So much time spent on worry and blind hope, all to be wiped away by kissing Elizabeth. She's warm, and soft, and comforting. She's home, the same way that Atlantis has become home. And she's hanging on to him as strongly as he's hanging on to her, and Lorne just wants to breathe her in --
And then they hear it; the gate alarm. They take off for the gate room in the blink of an eye and never look back. As Lorne figures it, they don't need to.
- end -