drabbles; tangere [sga]
tangere
Stargate Atlantis, John/Elizabeth
Rating: G
a/n: triple drabble, general spoilers for the series.
title from the Latin verb for touch.
(I don't know Latin)
this was written last year and never posted.
+ R.E.M., "It's The End Of The World As We Know It"
It starts with John, touching something he shouldn't in a room that only a few hundred people in the universe know about.
He's always touching things he shouldn't, and if that isn't a metaphor for their entire relationship, she doesn't know what is.
Their first week in Atlantis is spent dodging Wraith and meeting the neighbors, but also, figuring out new ways not to kill themselves with alien technology.
(What appear to be Ancient footballs are in fact, not sports equipment, but drone prototypes, and the munitions storage locker in the east wing will never be the same.)
Elizabeth can think of a hundred instances of things he should not have touched, but somehow he usually comes out okay, if a little worse for wear. She often thinks with some amusement that he must have a whole flock of guardian angels, though when he's faced with a closer call than normal it isn't nearly as funny.
+ LEN, "If You Steal My Sunshine"
Alien consoles are not video games. Alien consoles are not video games. Alien consoles are not video games...
She has half a mind to make John write the message out on an empty wall somewhere but she doubts it'd do any good, not with the rest of the expedition just as eager to find new and exciting ways to create mayhem. Despite appearances to the contrary, she did not come to the Pegasus galaxy to ride herd on a group of preschoolers.
The fact that some of the best and brightest minds in two galaxies are so capable at acting far less than their ages is either worrisome or comforting, depending on the day.
(She walks into the mess hall one day and finds at least half of the military and a good third of the scientists holding what appear to be multi-colored neon slushies. The room falls silent, broken only by the sound of somebody loudly slurping through a straw. She pauses, one eyebrow eloquently conveying her thoughts, and walks back out. She'd really rather not know.)
+ Guster, "Satellite"
you're my satellite, you're riding with me tonight,
passenger side, lighting the sky, always the first star that I find,
you're my satellite.
For most of the times when he touches something he shouldn't, there are relatively simple solutions. The last one isn't quite so easy.
He was never supposed to touch her heart.
She signed on to explore a new galaxy and lead her people as ably as possible in seeking out new allies and civilizations- she never planned on falling in love. When they first reached Atlantis, she was quite certain her heart was safe, if a little fractured, but somehow he managed to finagle his way in there as well.
Unlike other situations, she can't exactly talk this one out with him, and doesn't know where she'd begin if she could.
What startles her is that it doesn't matter; most times it's enough to share a smile and a wordless glance, the knowledge that they're not alone out here flowing between them. They manage to say a great deal with a silent language comprised of stolen moments and gentle nudges. (They always stand just a little too close to each other; they orbit, and dream of colliding.)
For them it's all in the things they don't say, but mean anyway.
They're probably not supposed to touch each other but they do.
Stargate Atlantis, John/Elizabeth
Rating: G
a/n: triple drabble, general spoilers for the series.
title from the Latin verb for touch.
(I don't know Latin)
this was written last year and never posted.
+ R.E.M., "It's The End Of The World As We Know It"
It starts with John, touching something he shouldn't in a room that only a few hundred people in the universe know about.
He's always touching things he shouldn't, and if that isn't a metaphor for their entire relationship, she doesn't know what is.
Their first week in Atlantis is spent dodging Wraith and meeting the neighbors, but also, figuring out new ways not to kill themselves with alien technology.
(What appear to be Ancient footballs are in fact, not sports equipment, but drone prototypes, and the munitions storage locker in the east wing will never be the same.)
Elizabeth can think of a hundred instances of things he should not have touched, but somehow he usually comes out okay, if a little worse for wear. She often thinks with some amusement that he must have a whole flock of guardian angels, though when he's faced with a closer call than normal it isn't nearly as funny.
+ LEN, "If You Steal My Sunshine"
Alien consoles are not video games. Alien consoles are not video games. Alien consoles are not video games...
She has half a mind to make John write the message out on an empty wall somewhere but she doubts it'd do any good, not with the rest of the expedition just as eager to find new and exciting ways to create mayhem. Despite appearances to the contrary, she did not come to the Pegasus galaxy to ride herd on a group of preschoolers.
The fact that some of the best and brightest minds in two galaxies are so capable at acting far less than their ages is either worrisome or comforting, depending on the day.
(She walks into the mess hall one day and finds at least half of the military and a good third of the scientists holding what appear to be multi-colored neon slushies. The room falls silent, broken only by the sound of somebody loudly slurping through a straw. She pauses, one eyebrow eloquently conveying her thoughts, and walks back out. She'd really rather not know.)
+ Guster, "Satellite"
you're my satellite, you're riding with me tonight,
passenger side, lighting the sky, always the first star that I find,
you're my satellite.
For most of the times when he touches something he shouldn't, there are relatively simple solutions. The last one isn't quite so easy.
He was never supposed to touch her heart.
She signed on to explore a new galaxy and lead her people as ably as possible in seeking out new allies and civilizations- she never planned on falling in love. When they first reached Atlantis, she was quite certain her heart was safe, if a little fractured, but somehow he managed to finagle his way in there as well.
Unlike other situations, she can't exactly talk this one out with him, and doesn't know where she'd begin if she could.
What startles her is that it doesn't matter; most times it's enough to share a smile and a wordless glance, the knowledge that they're not alone out here flowing between them. They manage to say a great deal with a silent language comprised of stolen moments and gentle nudges. (They always stand just a little too close to each other; they orbit, and dream of colliding.)
For them it's all in the things they don't say, but mean anyway.
They're probably not supposed to touch each other but they do.