SGA fic: The Modern Man's Hustle 3/3
The Modern Man's Hustle 3/3 [ Part Two]
*
Chapter Five
I.
Preth, six months before Smelding.
Teyla took a deep, calming breath as the door slammed behind them. She heard the twisting sounds of a lock, and then vents opened in every corner of the room. She knew the Prethers wouldn't hurt them, but she'd never been through this ceremony before. She knew her parents had, because they had always mentioned it happened nine months before her birthday.
Lorne's mouth twisted. "What do you know about this fertility ceremony?"
"I am not sure," she admitted. "I have never been old enough to participate."
"Hm," Lorne said. When she sat on the floor, crossing her legs, he did the same. The vents hissed as sweet-smelling smoke began to pour from them.
They sat in silence for several minutes. She tried to keep her breaths shallow, in case there was something in this smoke, but she didn't think it was doing any good; already she was starting to feel loose-limbed and sleepy.
"You're the one who has to tell Colonel Sheppard we got high on our mission," Lorne said.
She chuckled. He reached out and patted her knee, and then, staring at his own hand, started rubbing her leg.
"Ah, Major Lorne," she started, only she forgot what she was going to say when he started edging closer. He had nice eyes, she noticed for the first time. Nice eyes, and nice... everything else.
"Are you involved with Colonel Sheppard?"
"No, no," she said. When she shook her head, the room tilted. "We are just friends."
A crease formed between his brows. "He's into dudes, isn't he."
The incense was making her dizzy. She should get up and leave, but somehow, she didn't care. "Yes," she replied, although maybe she wasn't supposed to say that. She couldn't think with all this smoke.
There came a warm press against her side, and Lorne was there, one of his steady hands pushing her hair away from her face. He cupped her cheek, and she started tearing at her tac vest. "This might be the alien drugs talking, but, God, you're so beautiful," he said quietly, hot breath puffing against her ear. "I've never met another woman like you."
Lorne was funny and brave and honest and calm and strong despite his stature, and she couldn't think of a reason, any reason, why this shouldn't happen. He helped her finish stripping off her vest, and then he removed his, too, and she shoved until he fell flat on his back.
"I think there's something in the smoke," he whispered.
"I do not care, Major," she gasped as his fingers slid up her shirt.
"Call me Enrique." He groaned. "Finally, a mission where I get to have sex."
*
Smelding.
The first thing Ronon did when all the guards were down was grab her hand and lead her to the stables while signaling Miller on the radio. The king didn't have any ponies, but he had row after row of red and white striped horses. Miller and his team met them there.
"This isn't necessary," she protested as Ronon pulled her up to sit in his lap.
"We still haven't found out what their secret is for keeping the Wraith away," she complained as the horse galloped through the empty, moon-lit streets.
"Perhaps I can keep the king distracted while you--"
"No," Ronon said flatly.
"Witch!" voices shouted behind her. She twisted her neck and saw an army following them through the city gates. "Witch! Witch!"
"On second thought, ride like the wind," she said.
When they got back to Atlantis, it was her turn to scream, "Close the gate!" It felt oddly freeing.
John jogged down the stairs to meet her. "You're back early," he said, almost nervously.
John had a handlebar mustache and heavy sideburns. She glanced up at the control room; all the men had them as well, and all the women had curls pulled into high up-do's. She was pretty sure the pistol at John's side was an old-fashioned silver one.
Rodney leaned over the railing and waved. He was wearing a cowboy hat.
"Time travel device," John explained. "For about ten minutes, the American Civil War never happened."
"I've been gone for two days," Elizabeth said.
*
"Dr Weir," Carson said, "there's an unusually high level of lead in your system."
She blinked at him, folding her hands in her lap. "There is?"
He glanced at the chart in his hands. "Ah, and there are trace amounts in the bloodwork of the other members of your team, as well. You didn't take any strange pills or accidentally get injected while you were offworld, did you?"
"No," she said, trying to remember if anything weird -- weirder -- had happened on the planet.
"The food tasted funny," Ronon said from his perch on the other examination table.
Lieutenant Miller added, "The water too."
"That's right," Elizabeth said. "It tasted somewhat metallic."
Carson opened and closed his mouth a few times. "Oh. Well, here's a thought. You said the Wraith didn't bother with Smeldinga, but you didn't see any signs of cloaking technology? Maybe the Wraith don't like their food to be chock full of lead."
"You're saying you think the Wraith kept away from Smelding because of lead poisoning?" she asked.
"It's plausible," Carson said. "We already know the Wraith care what their food tastes like. If their water is laced with lead, it probably means their food is, too. You lot should be fine, since you were only there for two days, but the people of Smelding are probably beyond any help by now. Symptoms of lead poisoning include nausea, irritability, headache, abdominal pain... various neurological problems... a blue line around the gums..." Carson looked bemused. "It can look a lot like the disease porphyria, which is an enzyme disorder that primarily effects the nervous system, causing hallucinations, depression, and paranoia."
She thought of how both the king and the head guard had blue gums. And the witch thing. There was always the witch thing.
"So the mission was a waste," she said.
"Not a total waste," Ronon corrected. When she glanced at him, cheeks hot, he smiled shyly.
*
II.
Two months after Smelding.
"Colonel Sheppard," Elizabeth asked, "why are you wearing a toga?"
"Baa," the glaat bleated. It was lying half-conscious on the gateroom floor.
"And what, exactly, is that?"
John scrubbed his face with his hands. When he lowered them, he saw they were smeared with red mud. He didn't want to know what his face looked like right now.
"Hercules killed their sacred glaat," Rodney said, stabbing a finger in Ronon's direction. "This is all his fault."
"I see," Elizabeth said. John noticed she only used that tone with his team. "Explain yourself, Ronon."
Ronon stared at her. "I needed it."
Elizabeth looked like she was about to say something, but she snapped her mouth shut and glanced away. John would worry about her behaviour later; right now, he just wanted to go curl up somewhere and die. "We thought P2X-181 was uninhabited, but we were wrong," he said calmly. "They didn't like that we, uh, disturbed some of their hunting game, so we had to go through a few ceremonies. No big deal."
"No big deal?" Elizabeth repeated, raising an eyebrow.
"Ma'am," Lorne started from where he was sitting on the floor and nursing his bruised cheek, and John winced, "Colonel Sheppard had to--"
"Excuse me," Elizabeth interrupted, and then leaned over and puked on John's sneakers. It was the perfect ending to a perfect day.
*
III.
Six months after Smelding.
On P2B-236, John and Ronon got stuck in a cave together while Rodney and Teyla had to dig them out. Before Ronon had impregnated Elizabeth, John would've been happy to sit in an enclosed space with Ronon for four hours, but now things were just weird. Part of him was paranoid Ronon was telling Elizabeth every little thing he did or said, and another part of him wanted to beg Ronon for blackmail material. It was only fair; after all, she had plenty on him. All he had on her was her upcoming marriage to Ronon and her unnatural obsession with Nutella, none of which trumped secret-gay-love-affair-with-McKay or knows-all-the-words-to-every-Bon-Jovi-song.
They were sitting in comfortable silence together until Ronon abruptly said, "Tonight Elizabeth and I were supposed to perform the ritual of Larmar on our baby. I'm probably going to miss it."
"That sucks," John agreed.
Ronon leaned his head back against the wall, looked up at the ceiling, and said, "I remember the colour undergarments Elizabeth was wearing the first night we were together. Red. She likes red."
"Too much," John said, burying his face in his hands. "Too much information, Ronon."
"Do guys not talk about their ladies on Earth?" Ronon asked. "Or, um, their other guys, since you--"
"Some guys," John broke in, eye twitching. "Not me." He didn't add, "Hello, closeted," because one, Ronon wouldn't get it, and two, there was no telling what sorts of things he'd heard from Elizabeth.
"Sorry. We don't have gay people on Sateda," Ronon said. He was looking at John curiously, like there was a question he wanted to ask but was afraid of the answer.
John raised his eyebrows. "You probably do, but you just didn't know it," he said, smirking.
Ronon blinked a few times, then scowled. "No, there were no gays on Sateda. We don't have sex for any reason but having babies. It's against the laws of the heavens."
John didn't believe that, but he didn't want to fight over it. He relaxed against the wall, wondering how much longer it'd take for the rest of the team to dig them out, but then:
"I don't know if I want my baby to be raised here," Ronon said, "on the mean streets of Atlantis, with your heathen, godless beliefs and your rap videos and your loose women."
"I thought you liked living here," John said, stricken. He didn't know where this was coming from, or why Ronon was telling him and not Elizabeth. She was the one having his baby, after all.
"I do," Ronon said. "You're like the older brother I never wanted."
"Thank-- what?" John asked.
Ronon continued, "We could have climbed trees and killed animals in the forests behind our home, until our parents had to drown you." John must have had a horrified look on his face because Ronon added, "For trying to be gay with one of the men from the theatre."
John opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again. He didn't even know where to start. "Theatre?" he asked weakly.
Ronon stilled. "I mean, the armoury?"
"Elizabeth told me about your..." John gestured towards Ronon's tattoo. "Drama thing."
Ronon stared at him for a second, then, as if deciding John wasn't worth killing with his hands, nodded. "You would have been Father's favourite star." He looked sort of irritated at that. "It's probably a good thing you would have made a great brother."
Yeah?" John asked, preening. So what if ninety percent of the population of Sateda was dead; he’d still been born on the wrong planet. Ronon said he would have been a good brother.
"On Sateda, women aren't allowed in the theatre. You would've gotten all the good girl parts," Ronon explained. John deflated. "You could've even played Lara in our annual production of 'Laetes and Lara.' I tried out for Laetes not long before the culling."
"Did you get it?"
"I was in the chorus," Ronon grumbled. "I waved a flag on a stick."
"Oh," John said, struggling for something supportive to say. "Uh, so acting didn't work out for you?"
Ronon's face hardened. "My father was a gaffer. I spent my whole life in the theatre before I had to join the military because I didn't have any money. It was just a two year service; I got out a few months before the Wraith came. I got my breakthrough role a week before the final battle. I was going to play the lead in 'The Trials of Halfar.' Damn the Wraith," he growled, slamming his fists on the floor.
John suddenly felt the way Elizabeth must've felt all the time: deeply, deeply disappointed. Ignorance truly was bliss. "Wow," he said, feeling sucker-punched. "Wow."
"You can't tell anybody," Ronon insisted. "I don't want anyone to know what a failure I am."
John said, reeling, "I don't think they'd believe me anyway." He totally had to tell Rodney immediately.
Ronon scooted a little closer. John did his best not to crawl away and cry. "I have something else to tell you," Ronon said, looking unusually earnest.
"Oh God," John said. "I mean, oh? What is it?"
Ronon looked around the cave like there were other people there or something. "Elizabeth and I made love before our wedding."
John frowned. "I'd hope so. Otherwise, there wouldn't be a baby. Unless she was the Virgin Mary or something, but... that's a conversation for another day."
Ronon seemed kind of upset. "I'm worried about being punished by the gods."
Christ, John thought. He awkwardly patted Ronon on the shoulder. "I'm sure the gods won't mind," he offered lamely. He tried to think of something his Southern Baptist father might have said, besides, "Here's twenty bucks, leave me alone," or, "God doesn't let fags who don't clean their rooms into Heaven." "I mean," he said, stumbling over the words, "you're marrying her now, right? That has to count for something."
Ronon brightened. "Yeah, you're right."
Much to John's relief, that was when the rock wall started to crumble. A flash of sunlight peaked through, and Rodney's voice rang out: "Hello, hello? Colonel? If you're not dead, say--"
"Get me the hell out of here," John yelled.
*
John waited until Ronon left for the mess to catch up with Rodney. "You won't believe what I'm about to tell you."
Rodney, who had been so happy earlier John was still alive ("And Ronon too, I suppose."), looked impatient. "And what might that be?"
John glanced up and down the hall to make sure no one was eavesdropping. "Ronon was a virgin before Elizabeth."
"Get out!" Rodney said. "Seriously?"
"I had to channel my father when Ronon told me." Rodney looked confused. He explained, "Dad used to tell me things like, 'God doesn't let fags who get B's in math stay out late on Fridays.'"
Rodney gave him a reproachful look. "First, how are you not in therapy, and second, I wouldn't let you go out Fridays to cruise if you only made B's in math, either."
John crossed his arms over his chest and glared. "Funny, this is not the first time I've realized it's actually a good thing we can never have kids, McKay."
"Oh, ha, ha," said Rodney. "The difference between us, Sheppard, is my father didn't care who I was sleeping with on Fridays, as long as I left the house."
John arched a brow. "Did you?"
"Hell no," Rodney said. "Fridays were great study nights."
"How many years was it before you finally got laid?" John asked.
"Twenty three," Rodney said grimly. He stared at the wall as if suddenly remembering something terrible. "Twenty three long, long years."
*
Seven months after Smelding.
Rodney sat on the bed and untied his shoes. "You won't believe this: Elizabeth and Ronon asked me to the be the baby's godfather."
John bolted upright. That two-timing bitch. "What? I thought I was Elizabeth's best friend!"
"Rodney doesn't even like kids," John said to them at breakfast the next morning.
Elizabeth looked uncomfortable. "It's not that we think you'd be a bad godfather," she said, "it's... let's face it, John, you probably won't live long enough to see the baby's fifth birthday."
John gaped, stung. Rodney sniffed. "That's true, they wouldn't want the kid to get attached and then have you blow yourself up. Again."
"Plus," Lorne said seriously, raising a spoonful of Athosian yoghurt, "continued exposure to Sheppard may bring forth your child's homosexual tendencies."
"That's ridiculous," Elizabeth said.
Ronon frowned at Lorne. "Really?"
"This baby is tearing us apart," John said passionately.
*
Nine months after Smelding.
Elizabeth was gorgeous in her simple red cocktail dress. She'd told John she'd brought it to Atlantis for a special occasion, and what was more special than her wedding? Even if she didn't wear white; Ronon, in a hushed tone, had informed them on Sateda, white was the colour of death and mourning, and Elizabeth had said white would've looked ridiculous anyway, what with her being obviously pregnant and all. Apparently, the dress had been loose before she'd been pregnant, but now it fit snuggly over her maternal shape.
Teyla was Ronon's best man. "No gays in the wedding, Sheppard."
"Fine," John had said, "I didn't want to be in your stupid wedding anyway."
The wedding was held in one of the concert halls in the west tower. Apparently, Satedans were very austere folks; Ronon had requested no flowers, no white, and above all, no celebration, until he'd found out about the reception, and then he'd said food and dancing of this calibre was worth the wrath of the gods. However, he'd been horrified when they'd explained the rice: "You want to throw things at my bride?"
John would've thought Elizabeth would put up a little more fuss. He suspected she just liked being called a bride, especially after she told him it had taken her and Teyla four hours to pick out her shoes, which were strappy and black.
In a private room, Elizabeth smoothed down the front of her dress. Put on more eyeliner. Added more hairspray. John watched her fidget like a crazy person, and it occurred to him he was Elizabeth's bridesmaid.
"You're going to give yourself a stroke if you keep this up," he said.
Elizabeth grabbed John's hands. "Oh my God, I'm getting married. To Ronon. He can't even read. John, I'm marrying a man who can't read!"
"Deep breaths," he said. "Deep breaths, okay? I have to go sit down now, but-- don't take off. If you do, Ronon will kill everyone in the city, and that won't be cool."
"I can always get a divorce when the baby's older," she said, very serious.
"You sure can," he said, although he doubted she would. Ronon would probably con her out of it with some Satedan sex thing.
In the concert hall, he sat down in the front row next to Rodney, who smelled like-- "Are you drunk?" John hissed.
"I had a m-mickey of gin," Rodney hiccupped. "I've had a hard day, okay? First, I had to comfort Zelenka while he cried about the love of his life marrying some hoodlum, and then, I had to come to Ronon and Elizabeth's wedding."
"It's not even noon!" John said.
"Why are you always so judgmental?" Rodney asked. He leaned against John heavily. "You'd think after all the ass pounding you've been getting, you'd be more loose. Lose. Loose?"
Miller, on the other side of Rodney, leaned forward to raise an eyebrow at John. John laughed nervously. "McKay, you joker." Lowering his voice, he added, "You're ruining the wedding. And my career."
Rodney waved a hand a little more wildly than usual. "A ruined wedding for two ruined lives. God, I fucking hate weddings. You don't want to get married, do you? Tell me you don't."
Miller was still staring. "We'll talk about it later," John murmured. Rodney's fingers dug into his arm.
Ronon was already out in front, wearing his every day leather trenchcoat over a tuxedo, and his gun still at his waist. When John and Rodney had seen him earlier, he had feathers in his hair, explaining he'd thought it was an Earth custom after seeing John with them "at his wedding." But Rodney had sneered, "What a poor example. The Colonel was the bride, Ronon," and Ronon had said, "That makes much more sense." Between this and the pre-wedding drinking, John was going to win fights with Rodney for years.
Together, Elizabeth and Ronon had decided to make their wedding a combination of customs from both Earth and Sateda, but at the moment, it was looking more like what John expected an Amish wedding to be. Even Teyla, standing at Ronon's side, was wearing a high-necked Athosian dress that looked much more conservative than anything John had expected of her.
A disgruntled Zelenka sat down next to John, and Lorne took the empty seat next to him. "Wow, sir," Lorne said, "I think the whole city showed up for this. Hey, is McKay drunk?"
"How do you say 'shut the fuck up' in Mexican, Enrique?" Rodney asked.
The chaplain stepped into position. All the guests were there; Ronon straightened and took his place. The room quieted down, and everyone looked to the doors expectedly.
They waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, just when John was worried he'd get a call on the radio saying Elizabeth had stolen a jumper and flown the coop, the doors opened, and Elizabeth walked in, head high, shoulders straight, and made her way down the aisle. She wasn't looking panicked at all.
The ceremony went mostly without a hitch. Rodney was a little grabby, and Lorne kept making eyes at Teyla, and part of John's soul wanted to die at the idea of Elizabeth and Ronon being joined for life, but the only real trouble was when the chaplain asked, "Does anyone here have a reason why these two should not be joined in holy matrimony?" and John and Rodney had to tackle Zelenka before he could finish standing. Rodney might've been wasted, but he could still use a taser.
The chaplain said, "You may now kiss the bride, and you may, uh, share blood. Or whatever."
Smiling, Ronon took a blade out of his hair and quickly sliced both his and Elizabeth's palms. They pressed them together tightly. Elizabeth didn't even flinch.
"Oh, now that's just unsanitary," Rodney said. "I'm going to laugh when someone gets the space AIDS."
The ceremony ended with the Satedan tradition of Elizabeth breaking a jar over Ronon's head. It had something to do with the custom of Ronon showing his strength to his wife's people, but John was pretty sure he saw Ronon stumble a little.
At the reception, Ronon grudgingly allowed himself one dance. Apparently, upsetting the gods wasn't as important as making Elizabeth happy. John had to admit Ronon and Elizabeth did look good together, with their private little smiles and touches. After the first dance, Ronon headed over to his Marine buddies while Elizabeth danced with Lorne, Carson, and Caldwell.
Zelenka marched right up to Ronon and declared, "I will devise a machine to kill you, Dex, mark my words!"
"What a kidder," Rodney said, dragging a spitting mad Zelenka away.
John could still hear Zelenka loudly cursing in Czech -- "Zmrde zkurvenej!" -- as he said to Ronon, "Great party."
Ronon grimaced. "This is a night of debauchery. I might as well raise my baby in a brothel."
John grabbed two flutes of champagne as he crossed the room. "Okay," Rodney said, still a little wobbly, reaching for one flute, "I admit this isn't going as badly as I'd thought. By this point I expected to be covered in blood and screaming for my life."
"Get your own booze," John said. "These are for me."
That night, the last thing John remembered before blacking out was Elizabeth going into labour.
*
In the morning, John woke up in Rodney's bed in nothing but Rodney's "I'm with Genius" t-shirt that he definitely did not remember putting on. He was on his stomach, with Rodney fast asleep against his back. When Rodney nuzzled his shoulders, he groaned and rolled over.
"Rodney," he muttered, "not now, I have a headache."
Rodney cracked open one eye, then hissed, "Jesus Christ." He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. "Unfortunately, I didn't drink enough to black out the wedding or the reception. How have you not dumped me yet?"
John patted his arm, relaxing into the pillows. "It's okay, I told Lorne you suck in bed."
Rodney lowered his hands to glare. "What? Don't tell that midget anything about our sex life!"
"He's not a--" Midget. Tiny people. Babies. John shot up, feeling his eyes go wide. "Elizabeth had the baby."
"Shit," Rodney said.
When they got down to the infirmary, hastily-dressed and probably looking hung over as hell, the room was full of people. A glowing Elizabeth sat on a bed full of pillows, holding a tiny, wrinkled baby.
She looked over at them and smiled. "John, Rodney, allow me to introduce you to Allah Easter Weir Dex."
"Can I hold her?" John asked.
"No," Ronon said at the same time Elizabeth replied, "Of course."
John poked Allah's little tummy and shook her little fingers and palmed her little brown cheek. She smelled nice; she was heavier than he'd expected, but also terribly, terribly fragile. He loved her immediately. He was going to be the coolest uncle ever.
He offered her to Rodney, who took a step backwards, shaking his head. "No, no, I'm good."
"It's just a baby," John said.
"Exactly," Rodney retorted. "Knowing my luck, I'd end up accidentally snapping her neck."
Ronon snatched Allah out of John's hands, scowling at Rodney. He cradled her for a moment -- with a soft, gentle expression on his face he usually reserved for big knives or buffets -- and then he passed her back to Elizabeth.
"I want to hold her," Teyla protested.
"No, no one gets to hold her," Ronon said.
"Oh, you're going to be one of those fathers," Rodney scoffed.
Ronon just gave Allah another one of his buffet smiles.
As he and Rodney were leaving, he heard Teyla say, "She is beautiful. This makes me wish Enrique and I could have children of our own. Elizabeth, perhaps you could give me your next child."
"No!" Elizabeth exclaimed.
The whole time they walked down the corridor, Rodney complained: "The scary thing is, the nightmare's only just beginning. Soon we'll be roped into babysitting. I can't believe I agreed to be the godfather. Why'd you let me do that? I don't know the first thing about kids. I don't even like kids; they're loud and demanding and smelly and require entirely too much attention. Attention I could be focusing on more important things."
John just let him talk. When they go to the transporter, Rodney snuck a glance around and slipped his fingers into John's belt loops. "We haven't gotten a chance to celebrate Ronon and Elizabeth ruining their lives," he leered. "You know how I love a good Schadenfreude."
"I want a baby," John said.
"Goddamn it," said Rodney.
*
End.
Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis does not belong to me. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The title comes from a song by Atmosphere.
As usual, many, many lines in this were contributed by onthecontrary. This would suck so hard if it wasn't for her. She also cleaned the hell out of this story with her mad beta skills, of which i am eternally grateful.
*
Chapter Five
I.
Preth, six months before Smelding.
Teyla took a deep, calming breath as the door slammed behind them. She heard the twisting sounds of a lock, and then vents opened in every corner of the room. She knew the Prethers wouldn't hurt them, but she'd never been through this ceremony before. She knew her parents had, because they had always mentioned it happened nine months before her birthday.
Lorne's mouth twisted. "What do you know about this fertility ceremony?"
"I am not sure," she admitted. "I have never been old enough to participate."
"Hm," Lorne said. When she sat on the floor, crossing her legs, he did the same. The vents hissed as sweet-smelling smoke began to pour from them.
They sat in silence for several minutes. She tried to keep her breaths shallow, in case there was something in this smoke, but she didn't think it was doing any good; already she was starting to feel loose-limbed and sleepy.
"You're the one who has to tell Colonel Sheppard we got high on our mission," Lorne said.
She chuckled. He reached out and patted her knee, and then, staring at his own hand, started rubbing her leg.
"Ah, Major Lorne," she started, only she forgot what she was going to say when he started edging closer. He had nice eyes, she noticed for the first time. Nice eyes, and nice... everything else.
"Are you involved with Colonel Sheppard?"
"No, no," she said. When she shook her head, the room tilted. "We are just friends."
A crease formed between his brows. "He's into dudes, isn't he."
The incense was making her dizzy. She should get up and leave, but somehow, she didn't care. "Yes," she replied, although maybe she wasn't supposed to say that. She couldn't think with all this smoke.
There came a warm press against her side, and Lorne was there, one of his steady hands pushing her hair away from her face. He cupped her cheek, and she started tearing at her tac vest. "This might be the alien drugs talking, but, God, you're so beautiful," he said quietly, hot breath puffing against her ear. "I've never met another woman like you."
Lorne was funny and brave and honest and calm and strong despite his stature, and she couldn't think of a reason, any reason, why this shouldn't happen. He helped her finish stripping off her vest, and then he removed his, too, and she shoved until he fell flat on his back.
"I think there's something in the smoke," he whispered.
"I do not care, Major," she gasped as his fingers slid up her shirt.
"Call me Enrique." He groaned. "Finally, a mission where I get to have sex."
*
Smelding.
The first thing Ronon did when all the guards were down was grab her hand and lead her to the stables while signaling Miller on the radio. The king didn't have any ponies, but he had row after row of red and white striped horses. Miller and his team met them there.
"This isn't necessary," she protested as Ronon pulled her up to sit in his lap.
"We still haven't found out what their secret is for keeping the Wraith away," she complained as the horse galloped through the empty, moon-lit streets.
"Perhaps I can keep the king distracted while you--"
"No," Ronon said flatly.
"Witch!" voices shouted behind her. She twisted her neck and saw an army following them through the city gates. "Witch! Witch!"
"On second thought, ride like the wind," she said.
When they got back to Atlantis, it was her turn to scream, "Close the gate!" It felt oddly freeing.
John jogged down the stairs to meet her. "You're back early," he said, almost nervously.
John had a handlebar mustache and heavy sideburns. She glanced up at the control room; all the men had them as well, and all the women had curls pulled into high up-do's. She was pretty sure the pistol at John's side was an old-fashioned silver one.
Rodney leaned over the railing and waved. He was wearing a cowboy hat.
"Time travel device," John explained. "For about ten minutes, the American Civil War never happened."
"I've been gone for two days," Elizabeth said.
*
"Dr Weir," Carson said, "there's an unusually high level of lead in your system."
She blinked at him, folding her hands in her lap. "There is?"
He glanced at the chart in his hands. "Ah, and there are trace amounts in the bloodwork of the other members of your team, as well. You didn't take any strange pills or accidentally get injected while you were offworld, did you?"
"No," she said, trying to remember if anything weird -- weirder -- had happened on the planet.
"The food tasted funny," Ronon said from his perch on the other examination table.
Lieutenant Miller added, "The water too."
"That's right," Elizabeth said. "It tasted somewhat metallic."
Carson opened and closed his mouth a few times. "Oh. Well, here's a thought. You said the Wraith didn't bother with Smeldinga, but you didn't see any signs of cloaking technology? Maybe the Wraith don't like their food to be chock full of lead."
"You're saying you think the Wraith kept away from Smelding because of lead poisoning?" she asked.
"It's plausible," Carson said. "We already know the Wraith care what their food tastes like. If their water is laced with lead, it probably means their food is, too. You lot should be fine, since you were only there for two days, but the people of Smelding are probably beyond any help by now. Symptoms of lead poisoning include nausea, irritability, headache, abdominal pain... various neurological problems... a blue line around the gums..." Carson looked bemused. "It can look a lot like the disease porphyria, which is an enzyme disorder that primarily effects the nervous system, causing hallucinations, depression, and paranoia."
She thought of how both the king and the head guard had blue gums. And the witch thing. There was always the witch thing.
"So the mission was a waste," she said.
"Not a total waste," Ronon corrected. When she glanced at him, cheeks hot, he smiled shyly.
*
II.
Two months after Smelding.
"Colonel Sheppard," Elizabeth asked, "why are you wearing a toga?"
"Baa," the glaat bleated. It was lying half-conscious on the gateroom floor.
"And what, exactly, is that?"
John scrubbed his face with his hands. When he lowered them, he saw they were smeared with red mud. He didn't want to know what his face looked like right now.
"Hercules killed their sacred glaat," Rodney said, stabbing a finger in Ronon's direction. "This is all his fault."
"I see," Elizabeth said. John noticed she only used that tone with his team. "Explain yourself, Ronon."
Ronon stared at her. "I needed it."
Elizabeth looked like she was about to say something, but she snapped her mouth shut and glanced away. John would worry about her behaviour later; right now, he just wanted to go curl up somewhere and die. "We thought P2X-181 was uninhabited, but we were wrong," he said calmly. "They didn't like that we, uh, disturbed some of their hunting game, so we had to go through a few ceremonies. No big deal."
"No big deal?" Elizabeth repeated, raising an eyebrow.
"Ma'am," Lorne started from where he was sitting on the floor and nursing his bruised cheek, and John winced, "Colonel Sheppard had to--"
"Excuse me," Elizabeth interrupted, and then leaned over and puked on John's sneakers. It was the perfect ending to a perfect day.
*
III.
Six months after Smelding.
On P2B-236, John and Ronon got stuck in a cave together while Rodney and Teyla had to dig them out. Before Ronon had impregnated Elizabeth, John would've been happy to sit in an enclosed space with Ronon for four hours, but now things were just weird. Part of him was paranoid Ronon was telling Elizabeth every little thing he did or said, and another part of him wanted to beg Ronon for blackmail material. It was only fair; after all, she had plenty on him. All he had on her was her upcoming marriage to Ronon and her unnatural obsession with Nutella, none of which trumped secret-gay-love-affair-with-McKay or knows-all-the-words-to-every-Bon-Jovi-song.
They were sitting in comfortable silence together until Ronon abruptly said, "Tonight Elizabeth and I were supposed to perform the ritual of Larmar on our baby. I'm probably going to miss it."
"That sucks," John agreed.
Ronon leaned his head back against the wall, looked up at the ceiling, and said, "I remember the colour undergarments Elizabeth was wearing the first night we were together. Red. She likes red."
"Too much," John said, burying his face in his hands. "Too much information, Ronon."
"Do guys not talk about their ladies on Earth?" Ronon asked. "Or, um, their other guys, since you--"
"Some guys," John broke in, eye twitching. "Not me." He didn't add, "Hello, closeted," because one, Ronon wouldn't get it, and two, there was no telling what sorts of things he'd heard from Elizabeth.
"Sorry. We don't have gay people on Sateda," Ronon said. He was looking at John curiously, like there was a question he wanted to ask but was afraid of the answer.
John raised his eyebrows. "You probably do, but you just didn't know it," he said, smirking.
Ronon blinked a few times, then scowled. "No, there were no gays on Sateda. We don't have sex for any reason but having babies. It's against the laws of the heavens."
John didn't believe that, but he didn't want to fight over it. He relaxed against the wall, wondering how much longer it'd take for the rest of the team to dig them out, but then:
"I don't know if I want my baby to be raised here," Ronon said, "on the mean streets of Atlantis, with your heathen, godless beliefs and your rap videos and your loose women."
"I thought you liked living here," John said, stricken. He didn't know where this was coming from, or why Ronon was telling him and not Elizabeth. She was the one having his baby, after all.
"I do," Ronon said. "You're like the older brother I never wanted."
"Thank-- what?" John asked.
Ronon continued, "We could have climbed trees and killed animals in the forests behind our home, until our parents had to drown you." John must have had a horrified look on his face because Ronon added, "For trying to be gay with one of the men from the theatre."
John opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again. He didn't even know where to start. "Theatre?" he asked weakly.
Ronon stilled. "I mean, the armoury?"
"Elizabeth told me about your..." John gestured towards Ronon's tattoo. "Drama thing."
Ronon stared at him for a second, then, as if deciding John wasn't worth killing with his hands, nodded. "You would have been Father's favourite star." He looked sort of irritated at that. "It's probably a good thing you would have made a great brother."
Yeah?" John asked, preening. So what if ninety percent of the population of Sateda was dead; he’d still been born on the wrong planet. Ronon said he would have been a good brother.
"On Sateda, women aren't allowed in the theatre. You would've gotten all the good girl parts," Ronon explained. John deflated. "You could've even played Lara in our annual production of 'Laetes and Lara.' I tried out for Laetes not long before the culling."
"Did you get it?"
"I was in the chorus," Ronon grumbled. "I waved a flag on a stick."
"Oh," John said, struggling for something supportive to say. "Uh, so acting didn't work out for you?"
Ronon's face hardened. "My father was a gaffer. I spent my whole life in the theatre before I had to join the military because I didn't have any money. It was just a two year service; I got out a few months before the Wraith came. I got my breakthrough role a week before the final battle. I was going to play the lead in 'The Trials of Halfar.' Damn the Wraith," he growled, slamming his fists on the floor.
John suddenly felt the way Elizabeth must've felt all the time: deeply, deeply disappointed. Ignorance truly was bliss. "Wow," he said, feeling sucker-punched. "Wow."
"You can't tell anybody," Ronon insisted. "I don't want anyone to know what a failure I am."
John said, reeling, "I don't think they'd believe me anyway." He totally had to tell Rodney immediately.
Ronon scooted a little closer. John did his best not to crawl away and cry. "I have something else to tell you," Ronon said, looking unusually earnest.
"Oh God," John said. "I mean, oh? What is it?"
Ronon looked around the cave like there were other people there or something. "Elizabeth and I made love before our wedding."
John frowned. "I'd hope so. Otherwise, there wouldn't be a baby. Unless she was the Virgin Mary or something, but... that's a conversation for another day."
Ronon seemed kind of upset. "I'm worried about being punished by the gods."
Christ, John thought. He awkwardly patted Ronon on the shoulder. "I'm sure the gods won't mind," he offered lamely. He tried to think of something his Southern Baptist father might have said, besides, "Here's twenty bucks, leave me alone," or, "God doesn't let fags who don't clean their rooms into Heaven." "I mean," he said, stumbling over the words, "you're marrying her now, right? That has to count for something."
Ronon brightened. "Yeah, you're right."
Much to John's relief, that was when the rock wall started to crumble. A flash of sunlight peaked through, and Rodney's voice rang out: "Hello, hello? Colonel? If you're not dead, say--"
"Get me the hell out of here," John yelled.
*
John waited until Ronon left for the mess to catch up with Rodney. "You won't believe what I'm about to tell you."
Rodney, who had been so happy earlier John was still alive ("And Ronon too, I suppose."), looked impatient. "And what might that be?"
John glanced up and down the hall to make sure no one was eavesdropping. "Ronon was a virgin before Elizabeth."
"Get out!" Rodney said. "Seriously?"
"I had to channel my father when Ronon told me." Rodney looked confused. He explained, "Dad used to tell me things like, 'God doesn't let fags who get B's in math stay out late on Fridays.'"
Rodney gave him a reproachful look. "First, how are you not in therapy, and second, I wouldn't let you go out Fridays to cruise if you only made B's in math, either."
John crossed his arms over his chest and glared. "Funny, this is not the first time I've realized it's actually a good thing we can never have kids, McKay."
"Oh, ha, ha," said Rodney. "The difference between us, Sheppard, is my father didn't care who I was sleeping with on Fridays, as long as I left the house."
John arched a brow. "Did you?"
"Hell no," Rodney said. "Fridays were great study nights."
"How many years was it before you finally got laid?" John asked.
"Twenty three," Rodney said grimly. He stared at the wall as if suddenly remembering something terrible. "Twenty three long, long years."
*
Seven months after Smelding.
Rodney sat on the bed and untied his shoes. "You won't believe this: Elizabeth and Ronon asked me to the be the baby's godfather."
John bolted upright. That two-timing bitch. "What? I thought I was Elizabeth's best friend!"
"Rodney doesn't even like kids," John said to them at breakfast the next morning.
Elizabeth looked uncomfortable. "It's not that we think you'd be a bad godfather," she said, "it's... let's face it, John, you probably won't live long enough to see the baby's fifth birthday."
John gaped, stung. Rodney sniffed. "That's true, they wouldn't want the kid to get attached and then have you blow yourself up. Again."
"Plus," Lorne said seriously, raising a spoonful of Athosian yoghurt, "continued exposure to Sheppard may bring forth your child's homosexual tendencies."
"That's ridiculous," Elizabeth said.
Ronon frowned at Lorne. "Really?"
"This baby is tearing us apart," John said passionately.
*
Nine months after Smelding.
Elizabeth was gorgeous in her simple red cocktail dress. She'd told John she'd brought it to Atlantis for a special occasion, and what was more special than her wedding? Even if she didn't wear white; Ronon, in a hushed tone, had informed them on Sateda, white was the colour of death and mourning, and Elizabeth had said white would've looked ridiculous anyway, what with her being obviously pregnant and all. Apparently, the dress had been loose before she'd been pregnant, but now it fit snuggly over her maternal shape.
Teyla was Ronon's best man. "No gays in the wedding, Sheppard."
"Fine," John had said, "I didn't want to be in your stupid wedding anyway."
The wedding was held in one of the concert halls in the west tower. Apparently, Satedans were very austere folks; Ronon had requested no flowers, no white, and above all, no celebration, until he'd found out about the reception, and then he'd said food and dancing of this calibre was worth the wrath of the gods. However, he'd been horrified when they'd explained the rice: "You want to throw things at my bride?"
John would've thought Elizabeth would put up a little more fuss. He suspected she just liked being called a bride, especially after she told him it had taken her and Teyla four hours to pick out her shoes, which were strappy and black.
In a private room, Elizabeth smoothed down the front of her dress. Put on more eyeliner. Added more hairspray. John watched her fidget like a crazy person, and it occurred to him he was Elizabeth's bridesmaid.
"You're going to give yourself a stroke if you keep this up," he said.
Elizabeth grabbed John's hands. "Oh my God, I'm getting married. To Ronon. He can't even read. John, I'm marrying a man who can't read!"
"Deep breaths," he said. "Deep breaths, okay? I have to go sit down now, but-- don't take off. If you do, Ronon will kill everyone in the city, and that won't be cool."
"I can always get a divorce when the baby's older," she said, very serious.
"You sure can," he said, although he doubted she would. Ronon would probably con her out of it with some Satedan sex thing.
In the concert hall, he sat down in the front row next to Rodney, who smelled like-- "Are you drunk?" John hissed.
"I had a m-mickey of gin," Rodney hiccupped. "I've had a hard day, okay? First, I had to comfort Zelenka while he cried about the love of his life marrying some hoodlum, and then, I had to come to Ronon and Elizabeth's wedding."
"It's not even noon!" John said.
"Why are you always so judgmental?" Rodney asked. He leaned against John heavily. "You'd think after all the ass pounding you've been getting, you'd be more loose. Lose. Loose?"
Miller, on the other side of Rodney, leaned forward to raise an eyebrow at John. John laughed nervously. "McKay, you joker." Lowering his voice, he added, "You're ruining the wedding. And my career."
Rodney waved a hand a little more wildly than usual. "A ruined wedding for two ruined lives. God, I fucking hate weddings. You don't want to get married, do you? Tell me you don't."
Miller was still staring. "We'll talk about it later," John murmured. Rodney's fingers dug into his arm.
Ronon was already out in front, wearing his every day leather trenchcoat over a tuxedo, and his gun still at his waist. When John and Rodney had seen him earlier, he had feathers in his hair, explaining he'd thought it was an Earth custom after seeing John with them "at his wedding." But Rodney had sneered, "What a poor example. The Colonel was the bride, Ronon," and Ronon had said, "That makes much more sense." Between this and the pre-wedding drinking, John was going to win fights with Rodney for years.
Together, Elizabeth and Ronon had decided to make their wedding a combination of customs from both Earth and Sateda, but at the moment, it was looking more like what John expected an Amish wedding to be. Even Teyla, standing at Ronon's side, was wearing a high-necked Athosian dress that looked much more conservative than anything John had expected of her.
A disgruntled Zelenka sat down next to John, and Lorne took the empty seat next to him. "Wow, sir," Lorne said, "I think the whole city showed up for this. Hey, is McKay drunk?"
"How do you say 'shut the fuck up' in Mexican, Enrique?" Rodney asked.
The chaplain stepped into position. All the guests were there; Ronon straightened and took his place. The room quieted down, and everyone looked to the doors expectedly.
They waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, just when John was worried he'd get a call on the radio saying Elizabeth had stolen a jumper and flown the coop, the doors opened, and Elizabeth walked in, head high, shoulders straight, and made her way down the aisle. She wasn't looking panicked at all.
The ceremony went mostly without a hitch. Rodney was a little grabby, and Lorne kept making eyes at Teyla, and part of John's soul wanted to die at the idea of Elizabeth and Ronon being joined for life, but the only real trouble was when the chaplain asked, "Does anyone here have a reason why these two should not be joined in holy matrimony?" and John and Rodney had to tackle Zelenka before he could finish standing. Rodney might've been wasted, but he could still use a taser.
The chaplain said, "You may now kiss the bride, and you may, uh, share blood. Or whatever."
Smiling, Ronon took a blade out of his hair and quickly sliced both his and Elizabeth's palms. They pressed them together tightly. Elizabeth didn't even flinch.
"Oh, now that's just unsanitary," Rodney said. "I'm going to laugh when someone gets the space AIDS."
The ceremony ended with the Satedan tradition of Elizabeth breaking a jar over Ronon's head. It had something to do with the custom of Ronon showing his strength to his wife's people, but John was pretty sure he saw Ronon stumble a little.
At the reception, Ronon grudgingly allowed himself one dance. Apparently, upsetting the gods wasn't as important as making Elizabeth happy. John had to admit Ronon and Elizabeth did look good together, with their private little smiles and touches. After the first dance, Ronon headed over to his Marine buddies while Elizabeth danced with Lorne, Carson, and Caldwell.
Zelenka marched right up to Ronon and declared, "I will devise a machine to kill you, Dex, mark my words!"
"What a kidder," Rodney said, dragging a spitting mad Zelenka away.
John could still hear Zelenka loudly cursing in Czech -- "Zmrde zkurvenej!" -- as he said to Ronon, "Great party."
Ronon grimaced. "This is a night of debauchery. I might as well raise my baby in a brothel."
John grabbed two flutes of champagne as he crossed the room. "Okay," Rodney said, still a little wobbly, reaching for one flute, "I admit this isn't going as badly as I'd thought. By this point I expected to be covered in blood and screaming for my life."
"Get your own booze," John said. "These are for me."
That night, the last thing John remembered before blacking out was Elizabeth going into labour.
*
In the morning, John woke up in Rodney's bed in nothing but Rodney's "I'm with Genius" t-shirt that he definitely did not remember putting on. He was on his stomach, with Rodney fast asleep against his back. When Rodney nuzzled his shoulders, he groaned and rolled over.
"Rodney," he muttered, "not now, I have a headache."
Rodney cracked open one eye, then hissed, "Jesus Christ." He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. "Unfortunately, I didn't drink enough to black out the wedding or the reception. How have you not dumped me yet?"
John patted his arm, relaxing into the pillows. "It's okay, I told Lorne you suck in bed."
Rodney lowered his hands to glare. "What? Don't tell that midget anything about our sex life!"
"He's not a--" Midget. Tiny people. Babies. John shot up, feeling his eyes go wide. "Elizabeth had the baby."
"Shit," Rodney said.
When they got down to the infirmary, hastily-dressed and probably looking hung over as hell, the room was full of people. A glowing Elizabeth sat on a bed full of pillows, holding a tiny, wrinkled baby.
She looked over at them and smiled. "John, Rodney, allow me to introduce you to Allah Easter Weir Dex."
"Can I hold her?" John asked.
"No," Ronon said at the same time Elizabeth replied, "Of course."
John poked Allah's little tummy and shook her little fingers and palmed her little brown cheek. She smelled nice; she was heavier than he'd expected, but also terribly, terribly fragile. He loved her immediately. He was going to be the coolest uncle ever.
He offered her to Rodney, who took a step backwards, shaking his head. "No, no, I'm good."
"It's just a baby," John said.
"Exactly," Rodney retorted. "Knowing my luck, I'd end up accidentally snapping her neck."
Ronon snatched Allah out of John's hands, scowling at Rodney. He cradled her for a moment -- with a soft, gentle expression on his face he usually reserved for big knives or buffets -- and then he passed her back to Elizabeth.
"I want to hold her," Teyla protested.
"No, no one gets to hold her," Ronon said.
"Oh, you're going to be one of those fathers," Rodney scoffed.
Ronon just gave Allah another one of his buffet smiles.
As he and Rodney were leaving, he heard Teyla say, "She is beautiful. This makes me wish Enrique and I could have children of our own. Elizabeth, perhaps you could give me your next child."
"No!" Elizabeth exclaimed.
The whole time they walked down the corridor, Rodney complained: "The scary thing is, the nightmare's only just beginning. Soon we'll be roped into babysitting. I can't believe I agreed to be the godfather. Why'd you let me do that? I don't know the first thing about kids. I don't even like kids; they're loud and demanding and smelly and require entirely too much attention. Attention I could be focusing on more important things."
John just let him talk. When they go to the transporter, Rodney snuck a glance around and slipped his fingers into John's belt loops. "We haven't gotten a chance to celebrate Ronon and Elizabeth ruining their lives," he leered. "You know how I love a good Schadenfreude."
"I want a baby," John said.
"Goddamn it," said Rodney.
*
End.
Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis does not belong to me. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The title comes from a song by Atmosphere.
As usual, many, many lines in this were contributed by onthecontrary. This would suck so hard if it wasn't for her. She also cleaned the hell out of this story with her mad beta skills, of which i am eternally grateful.