SGA-fic: In from the Cold (John/Rodney, PG-13)
Title: In from the Cold
Author: Zinnith
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: John/Rodney
Wordcount: ~5700
Disclaimer: I wish I owned the fleece. Then I wouldn't be so frickin' cold.
Summary:
Rodney looks like the Michelin man, wrapped up in his snowsuit, his hideous orange fleece, every sock he owns and half of John’s, several scarves and a fur-lined Fargo hat.
Notes: For the Second Annual Fleece Appreciation Challenge at mcfleece . Thank you the_cephalopod for the quick beta and many apologies for being so very very late with this.
In from the Cold
Rodney looks like the Michelin man, wrapped up in his snowsuit, his hideous orange fleece, every sock he owns and half of John’s, several scarves and a fur-lined Fargo hat. Only his nose is sticking out through the bundles of fabric, and it’s a very red and irritated nose.
“I could be home in my lab right now,” he says, voice muffled by the scarf. “My lovely warm lab, where I have minions to fetch me coffee. But you just had to drag me out in the cold, where we will most likely freeze to death, looking for a Christmas tree.”
“It’s a Holiday tree, Rodney,” John corrects. Elizabeth was very clear about that so John has to be too. “And I don’t think you’re allowed to call them minions.”
“They’re too stupid to be called scientists,” Rodney huffs. “And I don’t think calling it a Holiday tree will make the non-christian members of the expedition feel any more included when people are singing carols all over the place, they’re serving gingerbread in the mess and Sergeant Lee has convinced Ronon to dress up as Santa. It’s not like anyone cares about the birth of Christ anyway, they just want to get gifts and stuff themselves with food.”
“And have a tree,” John adds. “Which is why we are here.”
They’re on the mainland, lumbering through the deep snow in search of the perfect tree, and John has to admit that it is a little too cold but, at the same time, it’s beautiful. He can’t quite get used to the pristine untouched nature of the Pegasus galaxy, the way the snow lies white for weeks after it’s fallen instead of turning into grey-brown sludge the moment it hits the ground.
John volunteered when Elizabeth asked for someone to go to the mainland and find a tree. The holiday cheer is getting to be a little too much, and unlike Rodney, who can just hide in his lab, John has to be visible in the city. His past Christmas experiences haven’t been very merry, so he usually suffers through the celebrations with the help of a forced smile and lots of eggnog.
“That still doesn’t explain why I am here,” Rodney grumbles, stopping for a moment to catch his breath. “I was perfectly happy back in Atlantis, so why did you have to kidnap me and drag me out here? I get sick very easily, you know. I can already feel a throat infection coming on.”
“You’ll be fine,” John smiles. He stops as well and looks at Rodney, who’s swaying on top of a snowdrift, trying to keep his balance. His cheeks are rosy and his eyes are bright and John really shouldn’t love him so much, but he does. There are no ways around it. “Besides,” he admits. “I haven’t seen much of you lately so I... I kind of missed you.”
“Really?” Rodney’s voice softens. “Well, I guess I’ve been rather busy with the Replicators and everything.”
“I know. So I thought, why not get away for a while? Find a tree, check in with the Athosians, spend some time with Halling and his home-made mead. We deserve a little time off, don’t you think?”
Rodney climbs down from the snowdrift, comes up beside John and takes his hand. “I think you have rather good ideas on occasion. Come on, lets go find that tree so we can get on with the rest of your plan.”
* * *
By the time they find the tree, Rodney has used up his entire collection of complaints and started inventing new ones. John stops to admire their find, a tall, dark green, spruce-like tree that’s not crooked or weird looking, and has the boughs perfectly distributed around the trunk. He’s only listening to Rodney with half an ear, until something catches his attention.
“Squirrels?” he asks, dumbfounded.
“Yes!” Rodney continues as if this is something completely logical. “They’re evil, with those creepy little eyes, and the claws, and they attack you with pine cones if you get to close!”
John laughs. “Don’t worry, McKay. If we run into an evil squirrel, I’ll protect you.” He takes off his pack to get out the axe, trying to find the best way to cut down the tree. It started snowing a little while ago and John is beginning to feel like it’s time to get back to the Athosian village and warm up a little before they return to Atlantis.
Rodney rubs his hands together. “You be manly and cut down the poor tree. I’m going to go stand over there before I turn into a snowman.” He points to a larger tree a few feet away which provides a little shelter from the snow.
“All right, “ John agrees. “Just stay in sight, okay? I don’t want you eaten by squirrels.”
Cutting down trees turns out to be hard work but it keeps John warm, so he’s not complaining. He’s not really looking forward to lugging the tree back to the puddlejumper though, and he wonders if there might be somewhere to land nearby. That would be cheating of course, but it doesn’t count if no one sees him.
The snow makes it hard to move around and the tree cutting takes longer than John expected. He hums the Lumberjack song under his breath, swears a little when he ends up with an eyeful of tree and then goes back to singing: “I cut down trees, I skip and jump...”
When he's finally finished, John turns back to Rodney's shelter, looking forward to a discussion about Monty Python sketches on the way back to the Athosian settlement. It's getting dark and the snow is heavier and he has to squint through the shadows while trying to decide which one of the silly walks he should try to imitate to get Rodney to laugh the most. But there's no one moving underneath the tree.
“Rodney?”
John leaves the freshly cut Holiday tree in the snow and walks closer, lifts the low hanging boughs, wondering if Rodney has managed too fall asleep or something. He's been working a lot lately and he's been tired, but even Rodney should know better than to go to sleep in the middle of a snow storm.
There's no one underneath the tree. John checks several times, and then he checks the other trees close by, but there's no Rodney. Well, he probably saw something interesting and wandered off. But John told him to stay close.
There are no footprints in the snow. If there ever were, they must be completely covered by now. John feels his pulse speed up as the first cold claws of panic grip his insides and twist them around.
He tries the radio but gets no answer. Either it's broken, or Rodney is unable to respond.
John walks out into the clearing, staring into the darkness, lit up only by the bright white snow. There are not any stars out, and it's still snowing. Something hot and desperate is burning behind his eyes, and when he shouts, his voice sounds more like a howl.
“Rodney!”
* * *
John leaves the Holiday tree behind. It's not important any more. Instead, he tries to figure out what could've made a cold-hating, hypochondriac scientist leave his cosy shelter and walk into a snowstorm. They already scanned the mainland for interesting energy signatures and possible Ancient bases and found very little worth investigating. John doesn't know if Rodney even brought his PDA and his gadgets with him. This was supposed to be a fun trip, despite Rodney's protests.
The wind is getting worse, blowing right through the fabric of John's jacket. If he, a soldier used to extreme climates, is feeling this bad, Rodney must be a hundred times worse. John picks up his pack and sets off into the forest, trying to track Rodney even though there are no tracks to be found.
He can't see a thing and his thighs are burning from ploughing through the deep snow. The thoughts are turning over and over in John's mind. It's all his fault. He practically forced Rodney to come, dragged him out of his warm, safe lab and into this. Just because he felt lonely. What if Rodney got hurt? What if he's lying in the snow somewhere, unable to move, waiting for John to come? If he could, John would cry, but the tears turn to ice in his eyelashes. His clothes are stiff with snow, and he's shivering so hard he can barely walk in a straight line.
They make a joke out of it in Atlantis, the fact that John is what Rodney mockingly calls 'directionally challenged'. It's not funny right now. John has no idea where he is and the pale beam from his flashlight is hardly enough for him to see his own feet. He should have known, he curses himself. When do they ever manage to go on an easy relaxing trip? No, not John Sheppard. Everything he touches turns to shit. It's a wonder Rodney wants to be with him. Sooner or later, he'll probably decide he's had enough and leave, like they all do. Who wants a boyfriend (Lover? Partner?) who lets you get lost in the snow?
The forest is thinning, but it's still too dark to see anything. John squints, trying to discern anything among the vague shapes in the distance. Then something catches his foot and he manages to trip and end up face first in the snow. This is just getting better and better.
“Shit!” he shouts. “Great, John, why don't you try to fuck up some more?”
The snow is cold and wet, but also very soft, and it's difficult to get up. John tries to push himself up, but only gets halfway before his arms give out and he decides so lie down again. Just for a few minutes, a moment of rest, then he'll continue to search for Rodney. Rodney, who's cold and alone somewhere, probably wandering around the same way John is. If he's not dead already...
No!
John gathers all his strength and manages to get to his feet this time. Rodney's still alive. He has to be, and John has to find him before it's too late. He brushes the snow from his parka and turns around, only to walk straight into a wall.
At least that's what is feels like. For a second, John leans against it on shaky legs. It's a surprisingly warm wall. It's also very tall and... hairy? He looks up and meets the concerned face of Halling.
“Colonel Sheppard, we have been searching for you.”
John pushes away, takes a few steps back and almost falls again, but Halling reaches out his arms to steady him. “Rodney,” John manages, teeth chattering like maracas in his mouth. “I lost him, I have to f-find him.”
Halling pulls him closer, takes off his furry jacket and drapes it around him. “You must rest, Colonel. You are very cold. We will find Dr McKay.”
John stares at him dumbfounded. He can't rest now! Not when Rodney's still out there somewhere. He shakes his head, swaying a little as it sends the world spinning around him. “I'll r-rest later,” he slurs. “Got t-to find R-rodney.”
But the cold seems to have sapped him of all strength and it is easy for Halling to wrap a long arm around his shoulders and guide him towards the settlement. Hopelessness rises within him; all he can think of is Rodney.
* * *
They make John take his clothes off, wrap him in blankets and sit him down in front of the fire. Marta puts a mug of hot spicy tea in his hands and holds them steady to help him drink. The heat of it hurts and he wants to whimper, but instead he just sits there and let them do what they want.
Halling steps inside the yurt and stomps the snow from his boots. “Several groups of hunters are out looking for Dr McKay,” he says. “Our best trackers are with them. Do not worry, Colonel, they will find him.”
What if they don't? John thinks. What if there's nothing to find? What if he was dying alone in a snowdrift while I was wandering around looking like a damn fool?
He doesn't say anything. Instead he sips his tea and thinks about how unfair it is that he is here, safe and warm, while Rodney is still lost. He shouldn't have made Rodney come. There were plenty of things he could've found for them to do together in Atlantis. John closes his eyes and does his best to keep the burning behind his eyelids from turning into tears.
* * *
The new day dawns a few hours later, and it stops snowing. John is surprised at how long he was stumbling around in the woods, as are the Athosians.
“You were lucky that I found you when I did,” Halling says, sitting with John in front of the fire, waiting for the hunters to return from their search. “You could have frozen to death just outside the village.”
John is silent. He understands now the danger he was in, the danger Rodney is still in. He can't just sit here waiting. “I need to be out there,” he says. “Rodney needs me, I have to find him.”
Halling looks at him, a long, deep look, that seems to cut through all John's carefully constructed defences and tear his soul open for everyone to see. Then Halling nods slowly. “Yes,” he says. “We will go. But first, you must eat, and we will find you dry clothes.”
Marta comes with hot soup and Jinto runs around between the yurts, trying to find clothes John's size. John eats without tasting anything and gets dressed without seeing what the garments look like. Normally, he's not a big fan of Athosian fashion, but right now he wouldn't care if they gave him purple britches with fringes. All that matters is finding Rodney.
One group of hunters return at the same time that John and Halling sets out. They haven't been lucky. The snow has ruined all tracks. They have been searching for hours and need some rest and food before going out again. John tries to keep his disappointment from showing. They are doing their best.
He's tried the radio again, in the hopes that last night's snowfall disturbed the signal somehow, but there's still no answer from Rodney. John knows that he should be calling Atlantis for help, but he doesn't want to, not just yet. He doesn't want to face Elizabeth with the news that he lost Rodney on what was supposed to be a silly errand.
The snow is still deep, but the sun is out this morning and it's not so difficult to see anymore. Halling walks first, making a trail for John to follow. He's still tired, weary to the bone, but he refuses to stop and rest until they've found Rodney, and that's what he tells Halling every time the tall Athosian suggests a short break.
“It has been a long time, Colonel” Halling says at one point. They're almost at the clearing where John found the Holiday tree. “You must be prepared for the possibility...”
“No!” John cuts him off and Halling doesn't say any more. Loss is a part of everyday life for the Athosians. Even though it's not easy, they have learned to expect it, to accept it. Jinto used to have a mother, Teyla used to have parents, Marta used to have a husband. They know that death is unavoidable. John knows this as well, but he's not ready to accept it. Not when it comes to Rodney.
“He's tougher than he looks,” John says quietly, trying to explain to Halling why Rodney has to be alive. Rodney survived the storm. He survived the desert and the super-wraith. There's a lot more to him than meets the eye, and it just doesn't make sense that Dr Rodney McKay should meet his end in a snowstorm. “He hasn't won the Nobel yet,” John continues, and Halling gives him a look that's half pity and half compassion.
The clearing looks a lot different in daylight. The tree John cut down yesterday is lying on the ground, almost completely covered in snow. It's snowed a lot, and it's no wonder that the hunters couldn't find any tracks. Even John's own trail is gone, covered in a soft white blanket.
“That's where he stood,” John says, pointing to the tree where Rodney had sought shelter. “I had my back turned, so wherever he went, he must've gone that way, because I didn't see him leave.”
Halling looks into the forest, the way John is pointing and nods. “Then we will go that way as well,” he says and sets off into the forest.
The trees are tall and it's darker here where the sunlight barely reaches the ground. John keeps scanning the snow for any irregular bumps or mounds, anything that could give a clue about Rodney's whereabouts.
A few yards from the clearing, there's a steep incline leading down towards a frozen stream. John almost misses it, and it's only Halling's hand on his arm that keeps him from tumbling down. It's not far, but there are almost certainly rocks hidden underneath the snow. John looks down towards the small valley below, gives the slope a calculating look. “Do you think...” he says, turning to Halling.
He doesn't have to finish the sentence. Halling has already started down the incline. It makes sense. If Rodney got bored and decided to go for a little walk while he waited for John to finish with his lumberjack impression, he could very well have missed the slope just like John almost did. If he fell down here in the darkness...maybe hit his head... John tries not to think of that. It's the best lead they have right now.
It's Halling who finds the parka. It's almost buried in the snow, only one dark sleeve sticking up, and he pulls it loose and brushes it off. John reaches out to touch the fabric with fingers trembling not from cold but from fear. “Why?” he asks. “Why would he take off his jacket?”
Halling's face is very grim as he answers. “Sometimes when the body gets very cold, it can feel as though it is warm.”
John remembers that from the course in cold weather survival he had to take when he got stationed at McMurdo. He also remembers the tale of the scientist who got lost in the snow. They found her by following the trail of her clothes, and when they finally reached her body, she had undressed down to her underwear. John quickly banishes the image of a pale frozen Rodney, lying in the snow in only his boxers, from his mind.
“We're on the right track,” he says instead. “Let's keep going this way.”
Halling follows like a silent shadow. There are no more discarded clothes, thankfully, but there are also no signs of Rodney. The sun is climbing in the sky. John doesn't want to know how long they've been out, how long it's been since Rodney got lost. He knows that for every second, the chances of finding him alive lessen.
They follow the stream downwards, the way Rodney would've gone if he was still thinking at least halfway clearly. Ronon has been drilling him in wilderness survival and at least a few things have stuck.
Under any other circumstances, it would be beautiful. The sun is glittering off the snow, making it look like it's covered in tiny diamonds. It would be a good place for a nice stroll. John's belly is filled with worry, gnawing on him with sharp little teeth.
John's getting more and more tired, his legs not quite following the directions from his brain, and Halling notices. “We must return to the settlement,” he says eventually, when John has almost fallen down for the second time in a row. “You are still unwell. We will rest and return later to bring Dr McKay back.” To recover his body, is what John hears, and he feels like crying again.
He looks back, up into the narrow valley and wonders if they went the wrong way anyway. What if Rodney went upstream? He could have been hurt in the fall down the slope. Maybe he was confused? He clearly was, or he wouldn't have taken off his parka. “Shouldn't we try the other way first?” John tries and points in the other direction with a pleading look at Halling.
Halling just shakes his head sadly, puts a large hand on John's shoulder and starts leading him downwards, back towards the village. The anger and grief burns in his throat. This can't be happening, it can't be true. Rodney can't be lost like this, it's not just possible. Not when he was alive and berating scientists in his lab only yesterday morning. Not when he was warm and pliant in John's bed the night before, wrapped around John with his face pressed against John's neck and his heart beating against John's back. It has to be a bad dream.
John turns around again, ignoring Halling's grip on his shoulder. He can't bring himself to leave, not quite yet. He can't just give up. Rodney wouldn't have given up. He would've come up with something brilliant, built some gadget to track John's bio signature. If their roles had been reversed, they would be back in Atlantis already, warm and safe and probably doing filthy things to each other in bed.
Halling pulls at him again, and John closes his eyes and swallows back the tears. He's failed yet again. He's going to have to return to Atlantis alone, live the rest of his life alone. He sighs deeply and opens his eyes again, preparing to take the first step back towards the settlement.
That's when he sees it. Underneath a tree with low hanging boughs, barely visible in the dim light, but it's there. A bright fleck of orange against the white. The same orange colour as Rodney's fleece.
“Look,” John shouts, shaking himself free from Halling's grasp and running towards the tree. He can hear Halling following, but doesn't stop to let him catch up. They reach the place, their breath clouds of white smoke in the cold air. Between the tree and some rocks, there's a deep hollow, and in the hollow...
“Rodney!” John doesn't wait for Halling's help - he just climbs down and throws himself at the still shape. Rodney's curled up, burrowed into the ground. His face is hidden in the collar of the sweater, his legs are drawn up against his body, and his arms are wrapped around his chest. He's still wearing the ridiculous Fargo hat and his gloves, and John has to push the furry earflaps aside to search for a pulse. Rodney's skin is frighteningly cold, so white it's almost blue, and John has almost lost feeling in his fingers. There are several long, trembling moments as John waits for a sign of life. Halling watches nervously from the edge of the hollow.
Then John feels it. The faint, almost unnoticeable movement of blood still flowing through Rodney's veins. It's slow and it's shallow, but the pulse is there.
“He's alive,” John whispers, more to himself than to Halling. Then he leans down, rests his head against Rodney's unmoving shoulder, breathes and tries not to cry. He doesn't have time for it. Not yet.
* * *
The walk back to the village is long and difficult. John is not strong enough to carry Rodney for any long distances, so Halling has to do most of the work. Rodney still hasn't showed any sign of awareness. He's wrapped in the silvery emergency blanket from John's pack and the thick wool blanket Halling brought. They tried to get him to drink some of the hot tea Marta gave them, but Rodney wouldn't respond and they decided it's to dangerous to try to force him to drink when he's still unconscious.
Halling carries Rodney against his chest like a child and John walks close beside, keeping all his attention on Rodney. Every now and then they have to stop and make sure he's still breathing. It's taxing, John has never been so tired in his life and he feels ready to fall apart, and Halling shows signs of weariness as well.
Halfway back, they meet a group of the hunters who went out earlier and Halling finally gets some help. They take turns carrying Rodney and John watches jealously. He can't wait until he gets to hold Rodney in his arms.
Their return to the settlement is like that of returning heroes and John realises that most of the Athosians had already given Rodney up for dead. Now they quickly hurry to help, lighting fires and fetching blankets and making a place in Halling and Jinto's yurt for them to put Rodney and get him out of his wet, frozen clothes.
They won't let John help until he's warm and dry himself and he watches anxiously as Marta and one of her friends carefully undress Rodney. The fleece is a lost cause, it has frozen to the shirt underneath and they have to cut both the garments from Rodney's body. Piece for piece, his pale skin is revealed, so white he looks like a ghost, and every time John looks at him, he's amazed that Rodney is still alive.
Then, finally, Rodney's resting on a pallet of furs in front of the fire, wrapped in several blankets. He's so still, not even shivering, and Marta feels his forehead. “He is too cold,” she says. “He cannot warm himself.”
John doesn't hesitate. He begins to undress, not caring about who gets to see him naked, and then he crawls under the blankets with Rodney.
His skin feels like ice, and John instinctively pulls back at the first touch, but then he forces himself to press up tight against Rodney's body, to wrap his legs around Rodney's and to warm Rodney's hands in his own armpits. It's so cold that John's teeth start chattering, but Marta finds more blankets, and Halling brings hot rocks from the fire, wraps them in cloth and buries them underneath the blanket with John and Rodney.
Rodney still hasn't moved or shown any signs of regaining consciousness. John pulls his head down against his chest, breathes hotly against the blueish skin on Rodney's neck, thinking about how much he wants to kiss it warm again, but he can't, not with half the Athosian settlement watching.
After half an eternity, Rodney finally begins to shiver. It's just a small tremble at first, a minute shudder, but then it doesn't take long until he's shaking violently and John holds him tight so he won't hurt himself.
Then John feels Rodney's lips move against his chest. First he thinks he's just imagining it, but then he can actually hear Rodney's voice, weak and trembling. John leans down to hear what Rodney's saying, and has to struggle to catch the words.
“C-cold...”
This time, John can't hold back the tears. They run hot and wet down his cheeks as he wraps his arms even tighter around Rodney and says into his hair, “I know, buddy, don't worry. We're gonna get you warm again.”
“J-john?”
“Yes,” John almost sobs. “Yes, it's me. I'm sorry it took so long to find you.”
“C-cold...”
“It's all right, everything will be just fine. We'll get you warm and we'll get you back to Atlantis where Carson can take care of you and everything... everything will be fine.”
Rodney continues to shake and presses himself hard against John, as if he's trying to soak up all the warmth John is able to give. John holds him tight until the shivering eases and Rodney's skin begins to turn pink instead of the terrible frozen white. Halling and Marta stay until Rodney is able to drink a little tea and then they quietly leave while Rodney collapses back into Johns arms and falls asleep, completely exhausted. John holds him, feels him breathe against his skin, warm now where it was almost unnoticeable before, and stays like that until the warmth from the fire and the steady beat of Rodney's heart puts him to sleep as well.
* * *
John wakes up a little later to find himself on his back on the pallet with Rodney's bright blue eyes looking down on him. “Hi,” he says, going for an uncertain smile.
Rodney smiles back. “Hi,” he echoes, his voice rough and raspy.
It's almost too hot underneath the blankets now. Rodney's skin is warm against John's and his dick is soft and small against John's belly. “Feeling better?” John asks, letting his hands slide down from Rodney's back to caress his ass.
“Mmhm,” Rodney nods, leaning down to kiss his lips, then his neck and collarbone. John can feel himself start to harden against Rodney's thigh. Rodney stops the kissing and looks down. “Maybe not that good yet,” he mumbles sadly.
John squeezes his ass. “That's all right,” he says. “We got all the time in the world now.”
“Yeah,” Rodney sighs and lies down, resting his head on John's chest. John combs his fingers through Rodney's hair, revelling in the feeling of the brown strands sliding over his skin. “Didn't think you'd find me,” Rodney says, the words almost inaudible.
John's chest aches a little. He'll never let Rodney know that he had doubts himself. “I'll always find you, Rodney,” he promises, meaning every word.
“I don't know what happened.” Rodney's voice is a little confused, his hand skimming over John's side, coming to rest on his hip. “I was just going to take a leak, and then I must've stepped wrong. I think I fell down a hill or something. It was so dark.”
“I'm sorry,” John feels his throat tighten. “I should've found you earlier. I wanted to go back before but Halling...”
“Hush,” Rodney silences him with a kiss. “It's all right now.”
They're quiet after that, lying close together in front of the fire, limbs tangled together, sharing breaths. It's peaceful, like their own little bubble where the rest of the world can't reach them. John has Rodney's skin all around him and he wishes he could stay like this forever, forget about everything else and just lie here, dozing under the blankets, until the winter is over.
“What happened to the tree?” Rodney mutters, moments away from sleep.
John kisses his forehead and closes his own eyes. “Fuck the tree.”
* * *
When the holiday celebrations come, John steals a large potted plant from the botany department and decorates it with tinsel, popcorn strings, and a star cut from gold paper in top. Zelenka is in charge of the nog, making it with the green eggs from PX2-443 which look terrible but taste pretty good, and a healthy serving of the product from the still which he officially does not keep in the lower levels.
Ronon is a success in his Santa costume and he insists on Elizabeth sitting on his lap before she gets her gift. She spends the rest of the evening blushing red, until Ronon makes Lorne do the same.
John sits by himself, sipping nog and keeping a close eye on Rodney, who's wearing double sweaters and socks. He still gets cold very easily, even though Carson gave him a clean bill of health after only a few days in the infirmary. John knows that Rodney's perfectly safe, but he still finds it difficult to let him out of his sight these days.
After all the gifts have been handed out, all the songs sung, and all the snacks eaten, the team walks together to the residential areas. Teyla is a little tipsy from the nog and looks very beautiful in her new scarf. Ronon's still wearing his Santa hat, and sings very loudly about Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer.
John and Rodney drop their team mates off at their respective quarters, and then continue to John's room. Since he got a larger bed, Rodney can sometimes be convinced to stay the night. John hopes this is one of those nights.
They sit down on the bed, close together and John reaches into the drawer of his bedside table to pick out a badly wrapped gift. He had to visit the mainland a few extra times to arrange for it, but it felt very important, so he did it anyway.
“Happy Holidays,” he says, handing it over to Rodney, who's making big eyes.
“I thought we decided we wouldn't give gifts? Now I'm sitting here looking all stupid because I didn't get anything for you, and...”
“Rodney.” John smiles and silences him with a kiss. “Just open it, okay?”
Rodney makes a face and tears the paper off to reveal the orange fleece, lovingly washed and mended by Marta. It cost John his entire stash of chocolate and was well worth it.
“My...” Rodney is completely speechless for once. “John, you shouldn't have. It... it wasn't important, I didn't even like it that much. I mean, I ordered the black one, but the only ones they had left were these horrible orange ones and, well, I hate being cold and I didn't want to spend my stay in Antarctica without warm clothing so...” Rodney seems to notice that he's babbling. “Why?” he asks.
“I love it,” John explains, stroking the soft fabric. “It's what you wore the first time we met. And it saved your life. I will be forever thankful to this sweater.”
“Oh. Oh!” The smile slowly spreads over Rodney's face. “Well, I won't argue about that. It is a very brave fleece and it has saved the galaxy from the loss of my brilliant mind.”
“Yeah, that's exactly what I meant,” John laughs.
From there on, the fleece ends up on the floor beside the bed, and there's a lot more kissing.
-fin-
Author: Zinnith
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: John/Rodney
Wordcount: ~5700
Disclaimer: I wish I owned the fleece. Then I wouldn't be so frickin' cold.
Summary:
Rodney looks like the Michelin man, wrapped up in his snowsuit, his hideous orange fleece, every sock he owns and half of John’s, several scarves and a fur-lined Fargo hat.
Notes: For the Second Annual Fleece Appreciation Challenge at mcfleece . Thank you the_cephalopod for the quick beta and many apologies for being so very very late with this.
In from the Cold
Rodney looks like the Michelin man, wrapped up in his snowsuit, his hideous orange fleece, every sock he owns and half of John’s, several scarves and a fur-lined Fargo hat. Only his nose is sticking out through the bundles of fabric, and it’s a very red and irritated nose.
“I could be home in my lab right now,” he says, voice muffled by the scarf. “My lovely warm lab, where I have minions to fetch me coffee. But you just had to drag me out in the cold, where we will most likely freeze to death, looking for a Christmas tree.”
“It’s a Holiday tree, Rodney,” John corrects. Elizabeth was very clear about that so John has to be too. “And I don’t think you’re allowed to call them minions.”
“They’re too stupid to be called scientists,” Rodney huffs. “And I don’t think calling it a Holiday tree will make the non-christian members of the expedition feel any more included when people are singing carols all over the place, they’re serving gingerbread in the mess and Sergeant Lee has convinced Ronon to dress up as Santa. It’s not like anyone cares about the birth of Christ anyway, they just want to get gifts and stuff themselves with food.”
“And have a tree,” John adds. “Which is why we are here.”
They’re on the mainland, lumbering through the deep snow in search of the perfect tree, and John has to admit that it is a little too cold but, at the same time, it’s beautiful. He can’t quite get used to the pristine untouched nature of the Pegasus galaxy, the way the snow lies white for weeks after it’s fallen instead of turning into grey-brown sludge the moment it hits the ground.
John volunteered when Elizabeth asked for someone to go to the mainland and find a tree. The holiday cheer is getting to be a little too much, and unlike Rodney, who can just hide in his lab, John has to be visible in the city. His past Christmas experiences haven’t been very merry, so he usually suffers through the celebrations with the help of a forced smile and lots of eggnog.
“That still doesn’t explain why I am here,” Rodney grumbles, stopping for a moment to catch his breath. “I was perfectly happy back in Atlantis, so why did you have to kidnap me and drag me out here? I get sick very easily, you know. I can already feel a throat infection coming on.”
“You’ll be fine,” John smiles. He stops as well and looks at Rodney, who’s swaying on top of a snowdrift, trying to keep his balance. His cheeks are rosy and his eyes are bright and John really shouldn’t love him so much, but he does. There are no ways around it. “Besides,” he admits. “I haven’t seen much of you lately so I... I kind of missed you.”
“Really?” Rodney’s voice softens. “Well, I guess I’ve been rather busy with the Replicators and everything.”
“I know. So I thought, why not get away for a while? Find a tree, check in with the Athosians, spend some time with Halling and his home-made mead. We deserve a little time off, don’t you think?”
Rodney climbs down from the snowdrift, comes up beside John and takes his hand. “I think you have rather good ideas on occasion. Come on, lets go find that tree so we can get on with the rest of your plan.”
* * *
By the time they find the tree, Rodney has used up his entire collection of complaints and started inventing new ones. John stops to admire their find, a tall, dark green, spruce-like tree that’s not crooked or weird looking, and has the boughs perfectly distributed around the trunk. He’s only listening to Rodney with half an ear, until something catches his attention.
“Squirrels?” he asks, dumbfounded.
“Yes!” Rodney continues as if this is something completely logical. “They’re evil, with those creepy little eyes, and the claws, and they attack you with pine cones if you get to close!”
John laughs. “Don’t worry, McKay. If we run into an evil squirrel, I’ll protect you.” He takes off his pack to get out the axe, trying to find the best way to cut down the tree. It started snowing a little while ago and John is beginning to feel like it’s time to get back to the Athosian village and warm up a little before they return to Atlantis.
Rodney rubs his hands together. “You be manly and cut down the poor tree. I’m going to go stand over there before I turn into a snowman.” He points to a larger tree a few feet away which provides a little shelter from the snow.
“All right, “ John agrees. “Just stay in sight, okay? I don’t want you eaten by squirrels.”
Cutting down trees turns out to be hard work but it keeps John warm, so he’s not complaining. He’s not really looking forward to lugging the tree back to the puddlejumper though, and he wonders if there might be somewhere to land nearby. That would be cheating of course, but it doesn’t count if no one sees him.
The snow makes it hard to move around and the tree cutting takes longer than John expected. He hums the Lumberjack song under his breath, swears a little when he ends up with an eyeful of tree and then goes back to singing: “I cut down trees, I skip and jump...”
When he's finally finished, John turns back to Rodney's shelter, looking forward to a discussion about Monty Python sketches on the way back to the Athosian settlement. It's getting dark and the snow is heavier and he has to squint through the shadows while trying to decide which one of the silly walks he should try to imitate to get Rodney to laugh the most. But there's no one moving underneath the tree.
“Rodney?”
John leaves the freshly cut Holiday tree in the snow and walks closer, lifts the low hanging boughs, wondering if Rodney has managed too fall asleep or something. He's been working a lot lately and he's been tired, but even Rodney should know better than to go to sleep in the middle of a snow storm.
There's no one underneath the tree. John checks several times, and then he checks the other trees close by, but there's no Rodney. Well, he probably saw something interesting and wandered off. But John told him to stay close.
There are no footprints in the snow. If there ever were, they must be completely covered by now. John feels his pulse speed up as the first cold claws of panic grip his insides and twist them around.
He tries the radio but gets no answer. Either it's broken, or Rodney is unable to respond.
John walks out into the clearing, staring into the darkness, lit up only by the bright white snow. There are not any stars out, and it's still snowing. Something hot and desperate is burning behind his eyes, and when he shouts, his voice sounds more like a howl.
“Rodney!”
* * *
John leaves the Holiday tree behind. It's not important any more. Instead, he tries to figure out what could've made a cold-hating, hypochondriac scientist leave his cosy shelter and walk into a snowstorm. They already scanned the mainland for interesting energy signatures and possible Ancient bases and found very little worth investigating. John doesn't know if Rodney even brought his PDA and his gadgets with him. This was supposed to be a fun trip, despite Rodney's protests.
The wind is getting worse, blowing right through the fabric of John's jacket. If he, a soldier used to extreme climates, is feeling this bad, Rodney must be a hundred times worse. John picks up his pack and sets off into the forest, trying to track Rodney even though there are no tracks to be found.
He can't see a thing and his thighs are burning from ploughing through the deep snow. The thoughts are turning over and over in John's mind. It's all his fault. He practically forced Rodney to come, dragged him out of his warm, safe lab and into this. Just because he felt lonely. What if Rodney got hurt? What if he's lying in the snow somewhere, unable to move, waiting for John to come? If he could, John would cry, but the tears turn to ice in his eyelashes. His clothes are stiff with snow, and he's shivering so hard he can barely walk in a straight line.
They make a joke out of it in Atlantis, the fact that John is what Rodney mockingly calls 'directionally challenged'. It's not funny right now. John has no idea where he is and the pale beam from his flashlight is hardly enough for him to see his own feet. He should have known, he curses himself. When do they ever manage to go on an easy relaxing trip? No, not John Sheppard. Everything he touches turns to shit. It's a wonder Rodney wants to be with him. Sooner or later, he'll probably decide he's had enough and leave, like they all do. Who wants a boyfriend (Lover? Partner?) who lets you get lost in the snow?
The forest is thinning, but it's still too dark to see anything. John squints, trying to discern anything among the vague shapes in the distance. Then something catches his foot and he manages to trip and end up face first in the snow. This is just getting better and better.
“Shit!” he shouts. “Great, John, why don't you try to fuck up some more?”
The snow is cold and wet, but also very soft, and it's difficult to get up. John tries to push himself up, but only gets halfway before his arms give out and he decides so lie down again. Just for a few minutes, a moment of rest, then he'll continue to search for Rodney. Rodney, who's cold and alone somewhere, probably wandering around the same way John is. If he's not dead already...
No!
John gathers all his strength and manages to get to his feet this time. Rodney's still alive. He has to be, and John has to find him before it's too late. He brushes the snow from his parka and turns around, only to walk straight into a wall.
At least that's what is feels like. For a second, John leans against it on shaky legs. It's a surprisingly warm wall. It's also very tall and... hairy? He looks up and meets the concerned face of Halling.
“Colonel Sheppard, we have been searching for you.”
John pushes away, takes a few steps back and almost falls again, but Halling reaches out his arms to steady him. “Rodney,” John manages, teeth chattering like maracas in his mouth. “I lost him, I have to f-find him.”
Halling pulls him closer, takes off his furry jacket and drapes it around him. “You must rest, Colonel. You are very cold. We will find Dr McKay.”
John stares at him dumbfounded. He can't rest now! Not when Rodney's still out there somewhere. He shakes his head, swaying a little as it sends the world spinning around him. “I'll r-rest later,” he slurs. “Got t-to find R-rodney.”
But the cold seems to have sapped him of all strength and it is easy for Halling to wrap a long arm around his shoulders and guide him towards the settlement. Hopelessness rises within him; all he can think of is Rodney.
* * *
They make John take his clothes off, wrap him in blankets and sit him down in front of the fire. Marta puts a mug of hot spicy tea in his hands and holds them steady to help him drink. The heat of it hurts and he wants to whimper, but instead he just sits there and let them do what they want.
Halling steps inside the yurt and stomps the snow from his boots. “Several groups of hunters are out looking for Dr McKay,” he says. “Our best trackers are with them. Do not worry, Colonel, they will find him.”
What if they don't? John thinks. What if there's nothing to find? What if he was dying alone in a snowdrift while I was wandering around looking like a damn fool?
He doesn't say anything. Instead he sips his tea and thinks about how unfair it is that he is here, safe and warm, while Rodney is still lost. He shouldn't have made Rodney come. There were plenty of things he could've found for them to do together in Atlantis. John closes his eyes and does his best to keep the burning behind his eyelids from turning into tears.
* * *
The new day dawns a few hours later, and it stops snowing. John is surprised at how long he was stumbling around in the woods, as are the Athosians.
“You were lucky that I found you when I did,” Halling says, sitting with John in front of the fire, waiting for the hunters to return from their search. “You could have frozen to death just outside the village.”
John is silent. He understands now the danger he was in, the danger Rodney is still in. He can't just sit here waiting. “I need to be out there,” he says. “Rodney needs me, I have to find him.”
Halling looks at him, a long, deep look, that seems to cut through all John's carefully constructed defences and tear his soul open for everyone to see. Then Halling nods slowly. “Yes,” he says. “We will go. But first, you must eat, and we will find you dry clothes.”
Marta comes with hot soup and Jinto runs around between the yurts, trying to find clothes John's size. John eats without tasting anything and gets dressed without seeing what the garments look like. Normally, he's not a big fan of Athosian fashion, but right now he wouldn't care if they gave him purple britches with fringes. All that matters is finding Rodney.
One group of hunters return at the same time that John and Halling sets out. They haven't been lucky. The snow has ruined all tracks. They have been searching for hours and need some rest and food before going out again. John tries to keep his disappointment from showing. They are doing their best.
He's tried the radio again, in the hopes that last night's snowfall disturbed the signal somehow, but there's still no answer from Rodney. John knows that he should be calling Atlantis for help, but he doesn't want to, not just yet. He doesn't want to face Elizabeth with the news that he lost Rodney on what was supposed to be a silly errand.
The snow is still deep, but the sun is out this morning and it's not so difficult to see anymore. Halling walks first, making a trail for John to follow. He's still tired, weary to the bone, but he refuses to stop and rest until they've found Rodney, and that's what he tells Halling every time the tall Athosian suggests a short break.
“It has been a long time, Colonel” Halling says at one point. They're almost at the clearing where John found the Holiday tree. “You must be prepared for the possibility...”
“No!” John cuts him off and Halling doesn't say any more. Loss is a part of everyday life for the Athosians. Even though it's not easy, they have learned to expect it, to accept it. Jinto used to have a mother, Teyla used to have parents, Marta used to have a husband. They know that death is unavoidable. John knows this as well, but he's not ready to accept it. Not when it comes to Rodney.
“He's tougher than he looks,” John says quietly, trying to explain to Halling why Rodney has to be alive. Rodney survived the storm. He survived the desert and the super-wraith. There's a lot more to him than meets the eye, and it just doesn't make sense that Dr Rodney McKay should meet his end in a snowstorm. “He hasn't won the Nobel yet,” John continues, and Halling gives him a look that's half pity and half compassion.
The clearing looks a lot different in daylight. The tree John cut down yesterday is lying on the ground, almost completely covered in snow. It's snowed a lot, and it's no wonder that the hunters couldn't find any tracks. Even John's own trail is gone, covered in a soft white blanket.
“That's where he stood,” John says, pointing to the tree where Rodney had sought shelter. “I had my back turned, so wherever he went, he must've gone that way, because I didn't see him leave.”
Halling looks into the forest, the way John is pointing and nods. “Then we will go that way as well,” he says and sets off into the forest.
The trees are tall and it's darker here where the sunlight barely reaches the ground. John keeps scanning the snow for any irregular bumps or mounds, anything that could give a clue about Rodney's whereabouts.
A few yards from the clearing, there's a steep incline leading down towards a frozen stream. John almost misses it, and it's only Halling's hand on his arm that keeps him from tumbling down. It's not far, but there are almost certainly rocks hidden underneath the snow. John looks down towards the small valley below, gives the slope a calculating look. “Do you think...” he says, turning to Halling.
He doesn't have to finish the sentence. Halling has already started down the incline. It makes sense. If Rodney got bored and decided to go for a little walk while he waited for John to finish with his lumberjack impression, he could very well have missed the slope just like John almost did. If he fell down here in the darkness...maybe hit his head... John tries not to think of that. It's the best lead they have right now.
It's Halling who finds the parka. It's almost buried in the snow, only one dark sleeve sticking up, and he pulls it loose and brushes it off. John reaches out to touch the fabric with fingers trembling not from cold but from fear. “Why?” he asks. “Why would he take off his jacket?”
Halling's face is very grim as he answers. “Sometimes when the body gets very cold, it can feel as though it is warm.”
John remembers that from the course in cold weather survival he had to take when he got stationed at McMurdo. He also remembers the tale of the scientist who got lost in the snow. They found her by following the trail of her clothes, and when they finally reached her body, she had undressed down to her underwear. John quickly banishes the image of a pale frozen Rodney, lying in the snow in only his boxers, from his mind.
“We're on the right track,” he says instead. “Let's keep going this way.”
Halling follows like a silent shadow. There are no more discarded clothes, thankfully, but there are also no signs of Rodney. The sun is climbing in the sky. John doesn't want to know how long they've been out, how long it's been since Rodney got lost. He knows that for every second, the chances of finding him alive lessen.
They follow the stream downwards, the way Rodney would've gone if he was still thinking at least halfway clearly. Ronon has been drilling him in wilderness survival and at least a few things have stuck.
Under any other circumstances, it would be beautiful. The sun is glittering off the snow, making it look like it's covered in tiny diamonds. It would be a good place for a nice stroll. John's belly is filled with worry, gnawing on him with sharp little teeth.
John's getting more and more tired, his legs not quite following the directions from his brain, and Halling notices. “We must return to the settlement,” he says eventually, when John has almost fallen down for the second time in a row. “You are still unwell. We will rest and return later to bring Dr McKay back.” To recover his body, is what John hears, and he feels like crying again.
He looks back, up into the narrow valley and wonders if they went the wrong way anyway. What if Rodney went upstream? He could have been hurt in the fall down the slope. Maybe he was confused? He clearly was, or he wouldn't have taken off his parka. “Shouldn't we try the other way first?” John tries and points in the other direction with a pleading look at Halling.
Halling just shakes his head sadly, puts a large hand on John's shoulder and starts leading him downwards, back towards the village. The anger and grief burns in his throat. This can't be happening, it can't be true. Rodney can't be lost like this, it's not just possible. Not when he was alive and berating scientists in his lab only yesterday morning. Not when he was warm and pliant in John's bed the night before, wrapped around John with his face pressed against John's neck and his heart beating against John's back. It has to be a bad dream.
John turns around again, ignoring Halling's grip on his shoulder. He can't bring himself to leave, not quite yet. He can't just give up. Rodney wouldn't have given up. He would've come up with something brilliant, built some gadget to track John's bio signature. If their roles had been reversed, they would be back in Atlantis already, warm and safe and probably doing filthy things to each other in bed.
Halling pulls at him again, and John closes his eyes and swallows back the tears. He's failed yet again. He's going to have to return to Atlantis alone, live the rest of his life alone. He sighs deeply and opens his eyes again, preparing to take the first step back towards the settlement.
That's when he sees it. Underneath a tree with low hanging boughs, barely visible in the dim light, but it's there. A bright fleck of orange against the white. The same orange colour as Rodney's fleece.
“Look,” John shouts, shaking himself free from Halling's grasp and running towards the tree. He can hear Halling following, but doesn't stop to let him catch up. They reach the place, their breath clouds of white smoke in the cold air. Between the tree and some rocks, there's a deep hollow, and in the hollow...
“Rodney!” John doesn't wait for Halling's help - he just climbs down and throws himself at the still shape. Rodney's curled up, burrowed into the ground. His face is hidden in the collar of the sweater, his legs are drawn up against his body, and his arms are wrapped around his chest. He's still wearing the ridiculous Fargo hat and his gloves, and John has to push the furry earflaps aside to search for a pulse. Rodney's skin is frighteningly cold, so white it's almost blue, and John has almost lost feeling in his fingers. There are several long, trembling moments as John waits for a sign of life. Halling watches nervously from the edge of the hollow.
Then John feels it. The faint, almost unnoticeable movement of blood still flowing through Rodney's veins. It's slow and it's shallow, but the pulse is there.
“He's alive,” John whispers, more to himself than to Halling. Then he leans down, rests his head against Rodney's unmoving shoulder, breathes and tries not to cry. He doesn't have time for it. Not yet.
* * *
The walk back to the village is long and difficult. John is not strong enough to carry Rodney for any long distances, so Halling has to do most of the work. Rodney still hasn't showed any sign of awareness. He's wrapped in the silvery emergency blanket from John's pack and the thick wool blanket Halling brought. They tried to get him to drink some of the hot tea Marta gave them, but Rodney wouldn't respond and they decided it's to dangerous to try to force him to drink when he's still unconscious.
Halling carries Rodney against his chest like a child and John walks close beside, keeping all his attention on Rodney. Every now and then they have to stop and make sure he's still breathing. It's taxing, John has never been so tired in his life and he feels ready to fall apart, and Halling shows signs of weariness as well.
Halfway back, they meet a group of the hunters who went out earlier and Halling finally gets some help. They take turns carrying Rodney and John watches jealously. He can't wait until he gets to hold Rodney in his arms.
Their return to the settlement is like that of returning heroes and John realises that most of the Athosians had already given Rodney up for dead. Now they quickly hurry to help, lighting fires and fetching blankets and making a place in Halling and Jinto's yurt for them to put Rodney and get him out of his wet, frozen clothes.
They won't let John help until he's warm and dry himself and he watches anxiously as Marta and one of her friends carefully undress Rodney. The fleece is a lost cause, it has frozen to the shirt underneath and they have to cut both the garments from Rodney's body. Piece for piece, his pale skin is revealed, so white he looks like a ghost, and every time John looks at him, he's amazed that Rodney is still alive.
Then, finally, Rodney's resting on a pallet of furs in front of the fire, wrapped in several blankets. He's so still, not even shivering, and Marta feels his forehead. “He is too cold,” she says. “He cannot warm himself.”
John doesn't hesitate. He begins to undress, not caring about who gets to see him naked, and then he crawls under the blankets with Rodney.
His skin feels like ice, and John instinctively pulls back at the first touch, but then he forces himself to press up tight against Rodney's body, to wrap his legs around Rodney's and to warm Rodney's hands in his own armpits. It's so cold that John's teeth start chattering, but Marta finds more blankets, and Halling brings hot rocks from the fire, wraps them in cloth and buries them underneath the blanket with John and Rodney.
Rodney still hasn't moved or shown any signs of regaining consciousness. John pulls his head down against his chest, breathes hotly against the blueish skin on Rodney's neck, thinking about how much he wants to kiss it warm again, but he can't, not with half the Athosian settlement watching.
After half an eternity, Rodney finally begins to shiver. It's just a small tremble at first, a minute shudder, but then it doesn't take long until he's shaking violently and John holds him tight so he won't hurt himself.
Then John feels Rodney's lips move against his chest. First he thinks he's just imagining it, but then he can actually hear Rodney's voice, weak and trembling. John leans down to hear what Rodney's saying, and has to struggle to catch the words.
“C-cold...”
This time, John can't hold back the tears. They run hot and wet down his cheeks as he wraps his arms even tighter around Rodney and says into his hair, “I know, buddy, don't worry. We're gonna get you warm again.”
“J-john?”
“Yes,” John almost sobs. “Yes, it's me. I'm sorry it took so long to find you.”
“C-cold...”
“It's all right, everything will be just fine. We'll get you warm and we'll get you back to Atlantis where Carson can take care of you and everything... everything will be fine.”
Rodney continues to shake and presses himself hard against John, as if he's trying to soak up all the warmth John is able to give. John holds him tight until the shivering eases and Rodney's skin begins to turn pink instead of the terrible frozen white. Halling and Marta stay until Rodney is able to drink a little tea and then they quietly leave while Rodney collapses back into Johns arms and falls asleep, completely exhausted. John holds him, feels him breathe against his skin, warm now where it was almost unnoticeable before, and stays like that until the warmth from the fire and the steady beat of Rodney's heart puts him to sleep as well.
* * *
John wakes up a little later to find himself on his back on the pallet with Rodney's bright blue eyes looking down on him. “Hi,” he says, going for an uncertain smile.
Rodney smiles back. “Hi,” he echoes, his voice rough and raspy.
It's almost too hot underneath the blankets now. Rodney's skin is warm against John's and his dick is soft and small against John's belly. “Feeling better?” John asks, letting his hands slide down from Rodney's back to caress his ass.
“Mmhm,” Rodney nods, leaning down to kiss his lips, then his neck and collarbone. John can feel himself start to harden against Rodney's thigh. Rodney stops the kissing and looks down. “Maybe not that good yet,” he mumbles sadly.
John squeezes his ass. “That's all right,” he says. “We got all the time in the world now.”
“Yeah,” Rodney sighs and lies down, resting his head on John's chest. John combs his fingers through Rodney's hair, revelling in the feeling of the brown strands sliding over his skin. “Didn't think you'd find me,” Rodney says, the words almost inaudible.
John's chest aches a little. He'll never let Rodney know that he had doubts himself. “I'll always find you, Rodney,” he promises, meaning every word.
“I don't know what happened.” Rodney's voice is a little confused, his hand skimming over John's side, coming to rest on his hip. “I was just going to take a leak, and then I must've stepped wrong. I think I fell down a hill or something. It was so dark.”
“I'm sorry,” John feels his throat tighten. “I should've found you earlier. I wanted to go back before but Halling...”
“Hush,” Rodney silences him with a kiss. “It's all right now.”
They're quiet after that, lying close together in front of the fire, limbs tangled together, sharing breaths. It's peaceful, like their own little bubble where the rest of the world can't reach them. John has Rodney's skin all around him and he wishes he could stay like this forever, forget about everything else and just lie here, dozing under the blankets, until the winter is over.
“What happened to the tree?” Rodney mutters, moments away from sleep.
John kisses his forehead and closes his own eyes. “Fuck the tree.”
* * *
When the holiday celebrations come, John steals a large potted plant from the botany department and decorates it with tinsel, popcorn strings, and a star cut from gold paper in top. Zelenka is in charge of the nog, making it with the green eggs from PX2-443 which look terrible but taste pretty good, and a healthy serving of the product from the still which he officially does not keep in the lower levels.
Ronon is a success in his Santa costume and he insists on Elizabeth sitting on his lap before she gets her gift. She spends the rest of the evening blushing red, until Ronon makes Lorne do the same.
John sits by himself, sipping nog and keeping a close eye on Rodney, who's wearing double sweaters and socks. He still gets cold very easily, even though Carson gave him a clean bill of health after only a few days in the infirmary. John knows that Rodney's perfectly safe, but he still finds it difficult to let him out of his sight these days.
After all the gifts have been handed out, all the songs sung, and all the snacks eaten, the team walks together to the residential areas. Teyla is a little tipsy from the nog and looks very beautiful in her new scarf. Ronon's still wearing his Santa hat, and sings very loudly about Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer.
John and Rodney drop their team mates off at their respective quarters, and then continue to John's room. Since he got a larger bed, Rodney can sometimes be convinced to stay the night. John hopes this is one of those nights.
They sit down on the bed, close together and John reaches into the drawer of his bedside table to pick out a badly wrapped gift. He had to visit the mainland a few extra times to arrange for it, but it felt very important, so he did it anyway.
“Happy Holidays,” he says, handing it over to Rodney, who's making big eyes.
“I thought we decided we wouldn't give gifts? Now I'm sitting here looking all stupid because I didn't get anything for you, and...”
“Rodney.” John smiles and silences him with a kiss. “Just open it, okay?”
Rodney makes a face and tears the paper off to reveal the orange fleece, lovingly washed and mended by Marta. It cost John his entire stash of chocolate and was well worth it.
“My...” Rodney is completely speechless for once. “John, you shouldn't have. It... it wasn't important, I didn't even like it that much. I mean, I ordered the black one, but the only ones they had left were these horrible orange ones and, well, I hate being cold and I didn't want to spend my stay in Antarctica without warm clothing so...” Rodney seems to notice that he's babbling. “Why?” he asks.
“I love it,” John explains, stroking the soft fabric. “It's what you wore the first time we met. And it saved your life. I will be forever thankful to this sweater.”
“Oh. Oh!” The smile slowly spreads over Rodney's face. “Well, I won't argue about that. It is a very brave fleece and it has saved the galaxy from the loss of my brilliant mind.”
“Yeah, that's exactly what I meant,” John laughs.
From there on, the fleece ends up on the floor beside the bed, and there's a lot more kissing.
-fin-