fic: curtains are hard to figure out; john/connor
Title: curtains are hard to figure out
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: John/Connor
Word count: 782
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: lost in the dark
Summary: John is lost and Connor thinks it’s funny. (He also thinks John is dumb.)
Author’s Notes:
- For universe-the. Yeah, dunno.
*****
John has crazy amounts of military training. John is awesome. John is also lost in the fucking dark in the dredges of Atlantis.
“I’m pretty sure I’m in the part that’s underwater,” he says into his radio.
“Probably,” Connor agrees. John can hear his fingers typing softly in the background and every once in a while Connor takes a sip of his tea and John hears that too.
“Shouldn’t you be more worried than you are?” he asks.
“Well,” Connor says. Then pauses. “…I know where you are. And also I stand to inherit everything if you disappear and never come back.”
John squints, which doesn’t really help because it’s blacker than black where he is. He can’t even make out his hand in front of him. “You know where I am?”
“Of course I know where you are,” Connor answers. John can practically hear his eyes rolling in his head. “I sent Ronon down to find you about twenty minutes ago. It’ll probably take him awhile, though.”
Something squishes under his foot and John grimaces. “I stepped in something gooey.”
“This will teach you to check the batteries on your flashlight better,” Connor says, not for the first time since John radioed him half an hour ago.
“I did,” John argues again. “It worked when I left. I can’t exactly predict when they’re going to stop working.”
“Back-up batteries,” Connor says without an ounce of sympathy.
John makes a face that Connor can’t see. “Why did I marry you again?”
“My dashing good looks,” Connor answers. “And my genuine Irish charm.”
“Genuine Irish something,” John mutters. He scrapes the bottom of his foot against the ground as he walks.
Connor sighs and says, “It’d be easier for Ronon to find you if you’d stay in one place.”
“When have I ever made life easier?” John asks. “On second thought, don’t answer that.”
The linguist laughs. “I won’t.”
“You’re not going to tell Lorne about this, are you?” John asks.
“…No?” Connor answers.
“You’ve already told him.”
“What would I tell him? That the hare-brained commander of Atlantis went exploring alone in the depths of an ancient city and then his flashlight died and he had no back-up batteries? That would be a foolish story to try and tell,” Connor says.
John rubs his forehead. “Okay, but really, when did you get so sarcastic? What happened to my shy, quiet, loveable husband?”
“You introduced him to Rodney McKay,” Connor answers. “--Oh, whoa.”
“Whoa? What whoa? What is whoa?” John asks. “You found a cool way to beam me up, Scotty?”
Connor laughs. “Nope, sorry. Just a diary of one of the Ancients.”
“That’s not cool,” John tells him.
“It’s extremely cool to me,” Connor replies. “You know what’s not cool? Exploring alone without back-up batteries for your flashlight. It’s also against the rules.”
“Teyla was supposed to go with me,” John explains, for the tenth time.
“You could have taken someone else.”
“Everyone else was busy!” John isn’t sure but he’s pretty sure his husband just made a ‘bitch, please’ face at him through the radios. Somehow. “And besides, this place has already been explored, I’m just…re-tracing steps. Can’t you please just ask Atlantis to turn the lights on?”
“Radek’s busy with the chair,” Connor informs him.
John runs into a table. “Nineteen,” he says. “Why are there so many tables down here?”
“To put things down on,” Connor answers.
“I’m definitely limiting your time with Rodney from now on,” John tells him. Though secretly he’s pleased that they’re finally getting along after years of polite distance. “If you push Zelenka out of the chair and give me some lights I’ll blow you every day for two weeks.”
“Please, a chuisle,” Connor scoffs. “You’d do that anyway.”
“I will…make that Athosian tea you like,” John tries. Then stops himself. “Wait. I will not make tea if you don’t.”
Connor laughs again and it’s soft and filled with amusement. “More sleep in the morning for me.”
“How long until Ronon gets here?” John asks.
A few keys click in the background. “Depends on if he stopped for lunch first,” Connor finally says. “He said he was hungry.”
“I’m being Punk’d aren’t I?” John asks wearily.
Connor asks, “What’s that?”
“It’s a thing that used to be on tv and--you know what? Never mind,” John says. “Tell me a story?”
“Any story?”
“Know any stories about a husband leaving his husband in the dark and then laughing about his misfortune?” John asks.
“I do, actually,” Connor says, and John can hear the smirk in his voice. “Once upon a time, in a City far, far away, there lived a man named John Sheppard…”
-0-
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: John/Connor
Word count: 782
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: lost in the dark
Summary: John is lost and Connor thinks it’s funny. (He also thinks John is dumb.)
Author’s Notes:
- For universe-the. Yeah, dunno.
*****
John has crazy amounts of military training. John is awesome. John is also lost in the fucking dark in the dredges of Atlantis.
“I’m pretty sure I’m in the part that’s underwater,” he says into his radio.
“Probably,” Connor agrees. John can hear his fingers typing softly in the background and every once in a while Connor takes a sip of his tea and John hears that too.
“Shouldn’t you be more worried than you are?” he asks.
“Well,” Connor says. Then pauses. “…I know where you are. And also I stand to inherit everything if you disappear and never come back.”
John squints, which doesn’t really help because it’s blacker than black where he is. He can’t even make out his hand in front of him. “You know where I am?”
“Of course I know where you are,” Connor answers. John can practically hear his eyes rolling in his head. “I sent Ronon down to find you about twenty minutes ago. It’ll probably take him awhile, though.”
Something squishes under his foot and John grimaces. “I stepped in something gooey.”
“This will teach you to check the batteries on your flashlight better,” Connor says, not for the first time since John radioed him half an hour ago.
“I did,” John argues again. “It worked when I left. I can’t exactly predict when they’re going to stop working.”
“Back-up batteries,” Connor says without an ounce of sympathy.
John makes a face that Connor can’t see. “Why did I marry you again?”
“My dashing good looks,” Connor answers. “And my genuine Irish charm.”
“Genuine Irish something,” John mutters. He scrapes the bottom of his foot against the ground as he walks.
Connor sighs and says, “It’d be easier for Ronon to find you if you’d stay in one place.”
“When have I ever made life easier?” John asks. “On second thought, don’t answer that.”
The linguist laughs. “I won’t.”
“You’re not going to tell Lorne about this, are you?” John asks.
“…No?” Connor answers.
“You’ve already told him.”
“What would I tell him? That the hare-brained commander of Atlantis went exploring alone in the depths of an ancient city and then his flashlight died and he had no back-up batteries? That would be a foolish story to try and tell,” Connor says.
John rubs his forehead. “Okay, but really, when did you get so sarcastic? What happened to my shy, quiet, loveable husband?”
“You introduced him to Rodney McKay,” Connor answers. “--Oh, whoa.”
“Whoa? What whoa? What is whoa?” John asks. “You found a cool way to beam me up, Scotty?”
Connor laughs. “Nope, sorry. Just a diary of one of the Ancients.”
“That’s not cool,” John tells him.
“It’s extremely cool to me,” Connor replies. “You know what’s not cool? Exploring alone without back-up batteries for your flashlight. It’s also against the rules.”
“Teyla was supposed to go with me,” John explains, for the tenth time.
“You could have taken someone else.”
“Everyone else was busy!” John isn’t sure but he’s pretty sure his husband just made a ‘bitch, please’ face at him through the radios. Somehow. “And besides, this place has already been explored, I’m just…re-tracing steps. Can’t you please just ask Atlantis to turn the lights on?”
“Radek’s busy with the chair,” Connor informs him.
John runs into a table. “Nineteen,” he says. “Why are there so many tables down here?”
“To put things down on,” Connor answers.
“I’m definitely limiting your time with Rodney from now on,” John tells him. Though secretly he’s pleased that they’re finally getting along after years of polite distance. “If you push Zelenka out of the chair and give me some lights I’ll blow you every day for two weeks.”
“Please, a chuisle,” Connor scoffs. “You’d do that anyway.”
“I will…make that Athosian tea you like,” John tries. Then stops himself. “Wait. I will not make tea if you don’t.”
Connor laughs again and it’s soft and filled with amusement. “More sleep in the morning for me.”
“How long until Ronon gets here?” John asks.
A few keys click in the background. “Depends on if he stopped for lunch first,” Connor finally says. “He said he was hungry.”
“I’m being Punk’d aren’t I?” John asks wearily.
Connor asks, “What’s that?”
“It’s a thing that used to be on tv and--you know what? Never mind,” John says. “Tell me a story?”
“Any story?”
“Know any stories about a husband leaving his husband in the dark and then laughing about his misfortune?” John asks.
“I do, actually,” Connor says, and John can hear the smirk in his voice. “Once upon a time, in a City far, far away, there lived a man named John Sheppard…”
-0-