I Love To Go A-Wandering
Title: A-Wandering
Author: l57371
Pairing: Lorne/Parrish
Word count: 5942
Rating: NC17
Warning: Rain, cold, sex. The usual.
Spoilers: None at all.
Summary: “It’s more than raining up here, Lieutenant. I think I saw Noah building a boat.”
Beta: Much thanks and bouquets of purple flowers to sheamackenzie and fififolle for making me fill in the holes and keep the timeline straight. Good betas are better than candy, and those two are the Willy Wonka of P/L!
“Valdereeee! Valderaaaaah!” Major Evan Lorne sang to himself under his breath as he trudged along the rocky path hugging the side of the mountain. He was rewarded with a soft snort of laughter from behind him as Doctor David Parrish caught the tune on the breeze. He smiled and went back to alternately sweeping his gaze over the terrain and watching where he placed his feet on the path.
“Funny, Major,” Parrish said, huffing a little. “I can see I’m going to have to start taking up hiking if we’re going to keep doing this.” He stopped walking and stretched his back out as Lorne looked around behind himself. “Can we take a break for a minute?”
Lorne grimaced a little at his own thoughtlessness. “Of course, sorry,” he said as he swung around and un-shouldered his own pack. “I forgot, scientists don’t do basic training, eh?” He dropped the pack and then sat down gingerly on top of it.
“Sure we do,” Parrish said, flopping down beside Lorne. “Only we call it ‘first year University’.” He looked at Lorne with a wry grin. “Us science geeks had to keep in shape to stay out of reach of all the jocks who were rushing fraternities.”
This time it was Lorne’s turn to huff a laugh at the mental picture of a teenaged Parrish, gangly and shy and probably just as cute as he was now, running from an oncoming hazing ritual with a backpack full of heavy text books. Actually that was a little sad, now that he thought of it. He sobered quickly and tilted his head back, looking at the sky that was just slightly the wrong shade.
That was what was wrong with space travel, Lorne thought to himself. The sky is never the right shade of blue. His artist’s eye took in the colour critically and decided it was nice anyway, even if it was wrong. His soldier’s eye took in the growing black clouds and decided they’d best hurry. “Storm’s coming,” he said. “Think we’ll make it in time?”
“I hope so,” Parrish replied, pushing himself to his feet and swinging his pack up onto his shoulders again. “Those roots are going to change the course of Parkinson’s research back on Earth. If we can synthesize a drug to do the same thing the roots do for the-” He broke off as his eyes scanned the craggy mountainside.
Lorne immediately came to attention, searching the mountainside as well. “What?”
The botanist was quiet for a moment as he continued to search. “I thought I saw…” He broke off and shook his head slightly.
“Saw what?”
“Nothing. Never mind.”
“No, tell me,” Lorne said, bringing his P90 up to shoulder level and sweeping the terrain with it held up to his eye.
“No, no, it’s okay, don’t shoot anything!” Parrish cried, his hands up in a gesture of placation. “I just- I keep thinking- There’s a colour, a flower, and then it’s not there anymore.”
Lorne raised an eyebrow and lowered the P90. “A flower,” he said, his voice flat.
“I think so, but it can’t be, can it?” Parrish said, confusion evident in his voice. “Flowers don’t usually just disappear like that.”
“Doc, I think you’ve been in the sun too long.” Lorne reached down to grab his pack and secured it to his shoulders, then reached for Parrish’s straps, straightening and tightening them across the other man’s back. He very carefully did not let his hands linger, tempting though the long stretch of the man’s torso may be. Finally he patted the straps, allowing himself one last touch, and moved away.
“Let’s move out,” he said, and continued the long trudge up the hill. Parrish followed.
*****
Just as they reached the top of the small mountain, the clouds decided to open up and the rain began splattering on the rocky terrain. Hurriedly Lorne began to set up his tent on a groundsheet while Parrish rushed to collect as many samples of the requested root as possible, carefully digging the plant from the ground and keeping the dirt and root system intact while stashing them in sample cases. By the time Parrish dove into the small tent the rain was pouring down in sheets and he was soaked to the skin.
Lorne smothered a smile at the sight of the disheveled Parrish, jacket dripping on the canvas floor and soaked BDU pants clinging in all the right places. Hurriedly he tapped his radio. “Lorne to Crichton.”
“Crichton here, Major. Is it raining up there too?”
“It’s more than raining up here, Lieutenant. I think I saw Noah building a boat.” Lorne’s belly clenched when Parrish laughed quietly at his joke.
“Yeah, we’ve got a deluge going down here too. Moffat’s set up a tent and we’re going to wait it out. You doing the same?”
“I think that might be safest.” Lorne unzipped the window on the opposite side of the tent, alee from the direction of the rain. He got up on his knees and craned his neck to try to look up. “I don’t think it’s stopping any time soon. Radio check in in two hours?”
“Yes, sir. Crichton out.” The radio clicked off and Lorne pulled it from his ear, laying it carefully to the side. He sank back down and sat cross legged on the floor of the tent.
He glanced sideways at Parrish. “Looks like we’re stuck for a while.”
Parrish looked back from under wet eyelashes. “It’ll give me a chance to dry out.” A shiver went through him as he took off his sopping jacket. “And maybe warm up too.” He wrapped his arms around his torso and shivered again.
Lorne immediately dumped out his pack, asking, “Why didn’t you say something? He rummaged through the contents until he found a small Canned Heat. He pried up the lid and lit the blue jelly fuel with his waterproof lighter, then searched again for a silver space blanket. “Strip off your wet clothes and wrap up in this,” he said, tossing the little silver square to the other man.
Parrish quickly shed the outer layers of his clothes, pants and socks, vest and shirt, leaving him in only his boxer briefs and a foil blanket, huddling around the little portable heat source.
It was a point of pride for Lorne that he managed not to watch as Parrish undressed, though it took a lot of willpower and not a little bit of distraction. He looked steadfastly out the still unzipped window. “Better?” he asked.
“Much, thank you,” Parrish replied. The blanket rustled around him as he shifted closer to the heat.
“Good, good,” Lorne said, thinking rapidly. “Are you hung-?” he started to ask, cutting himself off.
“Am I ... what?” Parrish said, eyebrows drawing together.
“Shh!” Lorne said, waving his hands, still peering out the window. “That colour you kept seeing, was it purple, by any chance?”
The blanket rustled again and Lorne felt the other man move up close behind his shoulder. Parrish’s face pushed up close to Lorne’s and he squinted out the window, trying to see through the rain. “Did you see it? Tell me you saw it!”
“I saw something, yeah, over there.” He pointed and Parrish moved his face closer to Lorne’s trying to follow the line of his finger. “It was-” He broke off and cleared the huskiness from his throat, risking a glance sideways at Parrish and surprised when the other man’s face was only an inch or two from his own. He swallowed and looked back out the window. “It was right over there by that big rock, but it’s not there now, it’s just gone.”
Parrish shifted again and suddenly Lorne felt the other other man’s hot breath wafting over the back of his neck and onto his cheek and chin. He tried to suppress a shudder that worked its way down his back, but Parrish sucked in a small breath and looked from the window to Lorne’s face. He puffed another breath out, his lips close to the back of Lorne’s neck and this time Lorne couldn’t hold back the shiver. Heat pooled in his belly despite the damp chill inside the small tent and his breath quickened. He heard the blanket crinkle again and then felt Parrish’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently.
Lorne gritted his teeth and took a deep breath, then twisted gently away from the botanist and crawled over to the other side of the tent. “Hungry.”
“What?” asked Parrish, turning around.
“I was asking before I saw the ... thing ... are you hungry?” Lorne busied himself digging through his mess of supplies on the floor, looking for the MREs.
“Oh,” Parrish said, his eyes dropping to the floor. “No, I’m not hungry, thanks.” He pulled his blanket tighter and shuffled back to his spot on the floor, opposite the Major. Resolutely he stared into the tiny blue flame, his lips pressed together, his cheeks red.
Lorne’s professional sense warred with his libido and he closed his eyes, willed down a burgeoning erection and pulled a deck of cards from the jumble beside him. “Gin rummy?” He arched an eyebrow and quirked a grin, hoping Parrish wouldn’t take the redirection as a rejection. Later, he thought, if he’ll still have me.
*****
Two hours, one check in, many games of silent gin rummy and a sunset later, Lorne heated up two MREs and set out sleeping bags. The rain was in no danger of letting up any time soon and there was no way they could make it back down the treacherous path in the rain and the dark.
“I’m afraid we’re not going anywhere tonight,” he said, eyes on his pack as he stuffed everything back into it, making room to lay out Parrish’s still damp clothes.
Parrish wriggled himself into one of the bags and zipped it up to the top, rolling all the way over to the edge of the tent and facing the wall. “Good night, Major,” he said, voice flat and uninflected.
Lorne looked over at the lump of botanist, huddled dejectedly in his sleeping bag and pretending to sleep, and mentally kicked himself. There he was, being offered everything he’d wanted for so long, and he ... turned it down? God, what an idiot! He scrubbed a hand over his face and watched as Parrish’s body slowly lost its tension and relaxed into real sleep.
Carefully he crept back over to the window and watched the rain for a minute, the perfect counterpoint to his mood. The night was pitch black, no moon or stars breaking through the cloud cover. Lorne sighed deeply and gave up, heading for his sleeping bag.
As he began to shed his boots he was surprised by the side of the canvas poking inward. He froze and waited, watching the spot that had moved. The canvas moved again, accompanied this time by scratching sound. Lorne grabbed his boots and shoved his feet back in, snagging a flashlight as he pulled up the zipper on the door, poking his head out and flicking on the light. Sitting beside the tent was a small purple flower that Lorne was fairly sure hadn’t been there when he set the tent up.
He ducked back into the tent and grabbed his jacket and a thin rain poncho, taking a few seconds to tie his boots and slide the poncho over his head. No more than two minutes later he left the tent, turning to zip the door closed again to keep the tent dry. He rounded the corner and shone the light where the flower had been. Had been, because the flower was no longer there.
He stood for a moment, sweeping the light beam in ever widening arcs around where the flower had been, disbelieving it even as he looked for it. Impossible, it had to be, flowers don’t move.
Did they?
Finally he saw a flash of colour disappearing from the edge of the flashlight beam and he sprang forward to follow it. Maybe if he could catch this wandering -- plant? flower? animal, maybe? - Parrish would give him another chance. Just as he got close enough to reach down and grab it his feet slid out from under him and he slid down a bank of gushing mud and sluicing water.
Lorne let out a yell as he tumbled down, crashing into rocks and trees, his mouth filling with rainwater until he could barely breathe. Finally he came to a stop, lying sideways against the bottom of a large boulder after he crashed into it on landing. Everything hurt, his arms and legs and torso, his head pounded with a splitting headache, and he was soaked through to the skin. His clothes were ripped, the rain poncho a tattered mess, and was bleeding from innumerable scrapes and cuts to his exposed skin. His flashlight was nowhere to be found, the beam extinguished.
“Parrish!” he shouted, or tried to, but he had no breath in his lungs and it came out as a gasp instead. He tried to draw breath but succeeded only in a small gasp. “David!” he said again, softly, desperately, his eyes closed against the rain.
Unable to move, barely able to breathe, he laid there for so long he lost count of the minutes. He was cold, soaked through and miserable. His radio was still sitting beside the wall of the tent and he was completely unable to call for help. It was then that he felt the tapping on his cheek.
Carefully, tentatively, he turned his head and saw a small purple flower beside his face, tapping a sodden root on his cheek.
Lorne blinked water from his eyes. No, the flower was still there, tapping roots over his cheek and into his ear.
“Hello,” he said, feeling ridiculous. The roots continued their quest over his face and then worked their way down his neck, feeling under his collar and over his throat. “You’re a curious little beast aren’t you?”
Catch it, he was going to catch it for Parrish, he remembered now. He reached down and ripped a large piece of plastic from his now useless rain poncho. He spread it out over his palm and lifted the strange little flower up, placing the roots into the plastic. Carefully he bunched the plastic up around the roots and held it tightly around the stem of the plant, effectively trapping the roots so that it couldn’t run away again.
“Got you now,” he whispered triumphantly. Awkwardly he ripped another small piece of plastic and used it as a tie around the stem, holding the plastic trap closed. He pushed it into one of the roomier pockets of his BDUs and closed the flap over the blossom. Now if he could just get back up the bank...
“Major!” Parrish’s voice floated over the sound of the pounding raindrops. “Major Lorne!”
“Here!” His voice was still a strangled whisper. He cleared his throat, took as big a breath as he could manage and tried again. “Down here!”
Parrish must have been close enough that time because his head poked over the side of edge of the drop off, shining his own light down and into Lorne’s face. His eyebrows drew together in confusion. “What are you doing down there?”
Lorne laughed, bordering on hysterical. “Thought I’d take a walk,” he said between gasps.
“Oh my god, oh my god,” Parrish said, looking around behind himself. He looked back at Lorne. “Don’t move. Wait a minute, can you move?”
“I think so, I just-” He shifted slightly and tried to sit up. “Ugh! I just maybe need some help-”
“Wait right there, I’ll be right back,” Parrish said and disappeared.
“No, wait! Parrish! Just-!” Lorne stopped and just concentrated on sitting up. He sat still a minute and waited for the pounding behind his eyes to stop, then looked up at the edge of the drop off, wondering what Parrish thought he had up his sleeve.
Suddenly a rope dropped into a puddle beside him and Parrish began rappelling down the side of the muddy embankment. When he reached the ground he hopped lightly down and landed beside Lorne. He wrapped an arm around Lorne’s torso and pulled him to an almost standing position. “Can you walk?”
“I think so, yeah, but I don’t know about climbing.” He sagged against Parrish’s body and shivered as the other man’s heat bled through to his freezing body.
“No problem, Major,” Parrish said and pulled the rope over, winding it around Lorne’s body and up and through his legs, effectively creating a five point harness out of it. “You just stand here a minute while I climb back up and then I’ll pull you up.” Like a lithe monkey he grabbed hold of the rope and walked himself back up the muddy slope. When he reached the top he hollered back down, “Now grab the rope while I pull you up!”
Lorne felt the rope tighten and within seconds he was dangling in mid-air, bumping lightly against the slope as he was hefted upward. He looked down at the receding ground and briefly wondered at the skill with which Parrish had strapped him in. Apparently there was more to the thin, retiring botanist than reached the eye. Inch after inch he rose until he reached the top and was pulled into Parrish’s waiting arms. Deftly he untied the rope and guided Lorne back to the doorway of the tent.
Parrish let go of the Major only long enough to zip the door back down again and then turned his attention back to the freezing man. Silently he began unbuttoning and unzipping the ruined clothes, slipping them off Lorne’s shuddering body and wrapping him in the same silver blanket that he himself had used only a few hours before. Then he dug through his own pack for another can of jellied heat, setting that one alight as well.
He shed his own newly wet again clothes, spreading everything out to try and let it dry overnight, then moved the sleeping bags together and zipped them to each other. He silently guided Lorne into one side of it and then slipped into the other side, his front against Lorne’s shivering back, and fitted his body to Lorne’s, sharing heat and comfort.
Gradually Lorne’s body began to warm and the shivering got worse, then better, and he was able to drift off nearly to sleep, both comforted and excited by the feel of the man behind him. Cautiously he snuggled closer to Parrish, reveling in the warmth after being cold for so long. Parrish tightened his arm over Lorne’s chest and pulled him that much closer, pushing his nose into Lorne’s neck.
As Lorne finally succumbed to sleep, a last thought passed his lips.
“I caught your flower...”
*****
Morning broke over the top of the mountain, clear and crisp as only higher altitudes can get. The rain had finally quit overnight and the sky was again the wrong shade of blue.
Lorne awoke slowly, becoming vaguely aware of someone in his bed. His nose was pressed into a flat chest sprinkled with chest hair and his arm was wrapped around and under the same chest, hand trapped under a shoulder. His leg lay over other legs, his groin pressed up against a solid, hairy thigh. Arms were around him, holding him close and strong, and he could hear a soft snore with every breath.
The second he tried to move it all came back to him in a rush of pain and stiffness, and he couldn’t stifle the groan that escaped. Parrish startled awake, his arms tightening briefly.
“Um, good morning?” Lorne said, trying to raise his head. The pain in his neck was excruciating.
“Good morning,” Parrish replied, his voice thick with sleep. “How do you feel?” His hands traced lazily over Lorne’s shoulders, keeping him where he was.
“Sore. So very sore,” Lorne said, relaxing back down onto Parrish’s chest. He moved the leg covering Parrish’s experimentally. The pain wasn’t too terrible there.
“Are you warm enough?” Parrish turned over onto his side but kept his arms around Lorne’s shoulders.
“Oh yeah, definitely warm enough,” Lorne answered with a small chuckle. “Thanks for all this,” he continued.
“You’re welcome.” Parrish shifted his hips closer to Lorne’s and suddenly he was just a little too warm. The evidence of Parrish’s good morning came into contact with his own and he was breathless again, just as he’d been the night before, but for a much better reason. He rocked experimentally against Parrish and was rewarded with a gasp and a small moan from the other man. He waited, and Parrish rocked back against him, sending sparks up his back and down his legs as his eyes fluttered closed again.
“Crichton to Major Lorne, come in please!” a tinny voice said from beside the sleeping bag, and Lorne jerked back, away from Parrish. He wormed an arm out of the sack and grabbed the tiny radio. “Lorne here, go ahead Lieutenant.”
“Are you guys okay up there?”
“We could use a jumper, I think. We’re both out of dry clothes and I had ... a little fall last night, I’m a little banged up.” Lorne smiled at Parrish when he smirked at the word ‘little’.
“I’ll call in for one in just a few minutes. Shouldn’t take longer than an hour, I should think,” said Crichton.
“Okay, we’ll be ready. Lorne out.” He plucked out the earpiece and dropped it to the floor of the tent. He raised his eyes to meet Parrish’s. “So...”
“So.” Parrish replied softly, tracing a finger down Lorne’s cheek and over the stubble on his chin.
Lorne groaned and lunged forward, capturing Parrish’s lips in a bruising kiss. Lips slid against lips, tongues chased each other back and forth. Both men groaned and clutched at the other, bodies writhing together. Finally Lorne pulled back.
“That’s what I wanted to do last night,” he panted, pressing his forehead against Parrish’s. “I wanted to kiss you more than anything.”
“Why didn’t you?” Parrish asked.
“Because I was an idiot,” Lorne replied, smiling slightly. “Something I hope to remedy as often as possible. As soon as we get home.”
Parrish smiled and ran a hand down Lorne’s back, cupping his buttock and pulling Lorne against him, brushing their still very interested cocks together. “You’d better,” he growled.
Lorne waited for the fireworks to stop running down his spine before he pulled back and said, “Jumper’s coming, we have to pack.”
They struggled into their still damp clothes, Lorne hissing and wincing with every movement of his sore limbs and every brush of damp cloth over his abused skin. Parrish moved about the tent packing the stuff away and rolling up the sleeping bags. Finally by the time Parrish was done, Lorne had managed to get most of his clothes on and they moved outside the tent in order to collapse it. Parrish dropped Lorne’s pack onto the driest ground he could find and gently lowered Lorne onto it to sit and wait for the jumper while he shook out the sodden tent.
Just as he packed up the last of the gear the jumper appeared over the edge of the drop off and landed a few yards away in the mud. The back hatch opened and Colonel Sheppard’s voice floated out, followed by a medic from the infirmary and Lieutenant Crichton. Quickly the medic looked over both men, then helped Lorne into the back of the jumper while Crichton and Parrish loaded the rest of the gear and the plant samples into the back.
“Major, did you go three rounds with a bear?” Sheppard asked, twisting around in the pilot’s seat with a smirk firmly affixed on his face.
“Uh, no, sir,” Lorne said, blushing slightly. “Found a drop off in the middle of the night in the rain and hit every rock and tree on the way down.”
“Well, good job on the thoroughness, Lorne.”
“Thank you, sir,” Lorne replied with a grin. “I’d never have gotten back up again though if it weren’t for Parrish.”
Sheppard raised an eyebrow at the botanist.
“He came down on a rope, tied me into a harness and pulled me up again.” Lorne couldn’t keep the note of pride in his teammate out of his voice.
“Really?” Sheppard drawled. “Very resourceful of you, Doctor Parrish.”
“Well ... I used to- I know how-” Parrish stammered and looked down, taking a breath. “I used to go mountain climbing when I was a student. My thesis was on mountain scrub brush and how minimal its soil requirements were, and if we could genetically adapt other food plants to grow like them. I spent a lot of time on the sides of mountains.” He broke off and cast an embarrassed look at his audience.
Colonel Sheppard grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. “Good thing too or the Major would still be wallowing in his mud bath.” He headed back to the front of the jumper and retook the pilot’s seat. “What say we get this show on the road and get you guys home and into a shower?”
“Yes, sir!” Lorne said feelingly. His disgust at his own filth was palpable.
*****
As soon as they were back in Atlantis Lorne and Parrish were hustled off to the infirmary and given a thorough exam. Parrish was released first and he immediately went to his planting room to take care of the root samples he had taken. Lorne was kept longer, clucked over and examined by Doctor Beckett, then finally released with a stern admonition to take it easy and let the bruises heal. There was nothing wrong with him that a few days rest couldn’t take care of.
Slowly he made his way to his room, wondering at the absence of his teammate. He’d disappeared as soon as he could and Lorne hadn’t seen him since. Did he regret the night before? Or did he just not believe that Lorne had wanted him for more than just his heat? Lorne reached his door and shuffled through, leaning against the wall inside for a moment. He shut his eyes and let his head drop back and sighed.
He gathered his strength again and stumbled from the wall to the bed, sat down and began stripping off his ruined and filthy clothes. It took an eternity to get his boots unlaced, and then another one to get his uniform shirt unbuttoned, and by the time he was down to just his pants he was sure he must have visibly aged. Methodically he went through his pockets, emptying out everything onto the bedside table until he came to the big roomy ones on the sides and realized that there was something in it. He fumbled at the buttons, finally got the flap up and pulled out the contents. The purple flower, roots still wrapped in the rain poncho remnant, lay in his palm, wriggling feebly.
Oh, crap.
As quickly as he could Lorne pulled on the easiest clothes he could find, an old t-shirt, a pair of sweats and runners, and with renewed energy he left his room, cradling the poor abused flower in his hands. He stopped in the hall when he realized he had no idea where Parrish was.
“Lorne to Control Room,” he said, tapping his radio.
“Chuck here, Major, what can I do for you?”
“Can you tell me where Doctor Parrish is, Chuck?”
There was a moment of silence. “Not for sure, Major, but there is one life sign in the lab he usually uses, so it’s probably a good bet. Why don’t you just call him?”
Lorne winced and thought quickly. “I didn’t want to pull him away from what he was doing, I just need to drop something off for him. Thanks, Chuck,” he said, then disconnected before Chuck could ask anything else.
He set off for the Botany labs as fast as his sore muscles would take him, arriving no more than 15 minutes later. Quietly he poked his head around the corner and saw Parrish re-planting the roots he had taken from the mountain top. He stepped in and cleared his throat.
“Major!” Parrish exclaimed, twisting around on his stool. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in the infirmary?”
“No, I was sprung. Nothing too serious. Listen, I have-”
“Then you should be in your quarters,” Parrish said, speaking over him. He rose and approached Lorne, hands moving as though he expected to have to catch Lorne when he fell.
“I was, but I found-”
“Come on, let me take you back,” Parrish interrupted him again. “Or would you rather I called a nurse for you?” At this last, the botanist backed away slightly, dropping his hands and averting his eyes.
“No, just listen,” Lorne said, moving closer. “I caught your flower.”
“You said that last night, but I still don’t know what you mean.”
Lorne held up his cupped hands, presenting the little flower. “I heard a noise, that’s why I was out in the rain. I found the flower, but when I got back outside to get it, it had moved away. You were right, it can walk. I was trying to catch it when I went down that embankment, and then the flower came to me, so I caught it and wrapped it up so it wouldn’t escape again.” He looked down at the forlorn little plant. “I don’t think it’s doing very well though after spending the night in my pocket. Think you can save it?”
Reverently Parrish picked up the flower and untied the plastic binding its roots. He placed it in his hand and it feebly began to crawl to the edge of his palm, roots feeling around for solid ground. With a huge smile on his face, he turned back to his planting table and reached for a large plastic tray of dirt.
Lorne smiled and turned to go.
“Major, wait just a minute until I can get this planted and I’ll help you back to your room.” He turned on the stool and smiled brilliantly at Lorne. “Please?”
Lorne nodded and sagged against the wall to wait.
It took only a few minutes to get the little plant back into some dirt and covered up so hopefully it wouldn’t go anywhere, then Parrish scrubbed his hands and came back to the door, wrapping one long arm around Lorne’s waist and taking some of his weight. Together they slowly made their way back to the residential area and back into Lorne’s room.
Again Parrish took charge and maneuvered Lorne until he was seated in the bathroom, then grabbed a cloth, wetted it down and began to wash the dirt and mud and muck from Lorne’s abused body. He pulled off clothes as he went, washing carefully over bruises and scrapes, scrubbing at the worst bits until Lorne was finally clean again, and incidentally naked.
Then Parrish pulled him up again and moved him the few feet to his bed, lowering Lorne down until he could lay back on the mattress. Lorne couldn’t help the groan as he relaxed into the comforting softness, or the snuffling sigh as Parrish pulled up the blankets and tucked them in around him.
“I’ll just...” Parrish said, trailing off as he gestured vaguely at the door.
Lorne opened his eyes again. “Stay,” he said, voice low and soft. “Please.” He shifted over on the bed as Parrish approached, flipping the blankets up in what he hoped was a clear invitation.
Quickly Parrish shed his boots, pants and shirt, sliding into the bed in just his underwear and a t-shirt, and wrapped his arms carefully around Lorne much as he had done the night before. “Are you sure you want to, you must still be sore-”
Lorne surged forward and cut off the words with a kiss, both demanding and delicate at once. He brought his hand up and tangled it in Parrish’s - David’s - hair, holding him steady while he explored and tasted and claimed David’s mouth. He felt David’s leg slide between his own and he thrust slightly against the strong muscle of David’s thigh, reveling in the gasp and moan it elicited.
Evan spread his hand wide over the small of David’s back, then scrabbled his fingers under the hem of the t-shirt until he could feel bare skin on his palm. David pulled back slight and tugged at the t-shirt until he could work it over his head, then reached behind himself and dropped it on the floor. He hesitated as he reached for the waistband of his boxer shorts but Evan pushed at the elastic desperately, muffling a frustrated grunt on David’s own lips when the elastic wouldn’t stay down. David grinned and pushed them down himself, working them down his legs and kicking them into the foot of the bed, then came back to Evan’s lips, diving in for another kiss.
David’s hands ran up and down his back, over his ass and up his sides, softly, carefully, never more than just a brushing presence, until he grabbed a handful of Lorne’s ass and pulled, forcefully, until their hips were pressed together, hard cocks trapped between their stomachs. Lorne broke away from the kiss and gasped, “God, David!” as his hips pumped helplessly forward into the other man’s. His cock brushed over David’s, up one side and down the other, spreading slick wetness over both of them.
“Oh god, Evan, yes,” David groaned, hips thrusting in return, thigh brushing up against the sensitive skin of Evan’s sac, fingers probing as he squeezed Evan’s buttock. They stayed there, thrusting and rutting, breathing wetly over each other’s necks and faces, panting and grunting, until finally David stiffened, hips stuttering and rocking in short, sharp thrusts. He threw back his head, his eyes closed tight and teeth clenched together, then cried, “Evan!” and shot pulse after pulse of hot fluid over Evan’s belly.
That tipped Evan over the edge and he too came, abused muscles clenching spasmodically, groaning David’s name into his neck where Evan pressed his face. For a long moment they lay there, pressed together, panting like runners, holding each other tightly. Then David pulled back slightly and kissed Evan, a long, slow, sweet kiss full of longing and promises. He rolled out of the bed and staggered to the bathroom on weak legs, returning with the wet cloth. He cleaned them both up and then slid back into the bed, once again wrapping Evan in his long arms and pulling him close.
They were silent for a long moment, then, “You brought me a flower,” David said, his voice a husky whisper.
“I *caught* you a flower,” Evan corrected, the smile evident in his voice.
“You could have killed yourself doing that,” David said.
Evan wasn’t sure if David was angry or not. “That wasn’t my intention, believe me. I just wanted to give you the plant. And it worked, you have the plant.”
“I wanted you, not the plant,” David replied.
“You have both,” Evan whispered. He pushed closer to the other man, burying his nose in David’s neck and breathing deeply. His sore muscles relaxed into sleep.
Just as he was drifting off, he heard David say, “I’ll take both.” David’s arms tightened around him again, and he dropped off to sleep with a smile.
Author: l57371
Pairing: Lorne/Parrish
Word count: 5942
Rating: NC17
Warning: Rain, cold, sex. The usual.
Spoilers: None at all.
Summary: “It’s more than raining up here, Lieutenant. I think I saw Noah building a boat.”
Beta: Much thanks and bouquets of purple flowers to sheamackenzie and fififolle for making me fill in the holes and keep the timeline straight. Good betas are better than candy, and those two are the Willy Wonka of P/L!
“Valdereeee! Valderaaaaah!” Major Evan Lorne sang to himself under his breath as he trudged along the rocky path hugging the side of the mountain. He was rewarded with a soft snort of laughter from behind him as Doctor David Parrish caught the tune on the breeze. He smiled and went back to alternately sweeping his gaze over the terrain and watching where he placed his feet on the path.
“Funny, Major,” Parrish said, huffing a little. “I can see I’m going to have to start taking up hiking if we’re going to keep doing this.” He stopped walking and stretched his back out as Lorne looked around behind himself. “Can we take a break for a minute?”
Lorne grimaced a little at his own thoughtlessness. “Of course, sorry,” he said as he swung around and un-shouldered his own pack. “I forgot, scientists don’t do basic training, eh?” He dropped the pack and then sat down gingerly on top of it.
“Sure we do,” Parrish said, flopping down beside Lorne. “Only we call it ‘first year University’.” He looked at Lorne with a wry grin. “Us science geeks had to keep in shape to stay out of reach of all the jocks who were rushing fraternities.”
This time it was Lorne’s turn to huff a laugh at the mental picture of a teenaged Parrish, gangly and shy and probably just as cute as he was now, running from an oncoming hazing ritual with a backpack full of heavy text books. Actually that was a little sad, now that he thought of it. He sobered quickly and tilted his head back, looking at the sky that was just slightly the wrong shade.
That was what was wrong with space travel, Lorne thought to himself. The sky is never the right shade of blue. His artist’s eye took in the colour critically and decided it was nice anyway, even if it was wrong. His soldier’s eye took in the growing black clouds and decided they’d best hurry. “Storm’s coming,” he said. “Think we’ll make it in time?”
“I hope so,” Parrish replied, pushing himself to his feet and swinging his pack up onto his shoulders again. “Those roots are going to change the course of Parkinson’s research back on Earth. If we can synthesize a drug to do the same thing the roots do for the-” He broke off as his eyes scanned the craggy mountainside.
Lorne immediately came to attention, searching the mountainside as well. “What?”
The botanist was quiet for a moment as he continued to search. “I thought I saw…” He broke off and shook his head slightly.
“Saw what?”
“Nothing. Never mind.”
“No, tell me,” Lorne said, bringing his P90 up to shoulder level and sweeping the terrain with it held up to his eye.
“No, no, it’s okay, don’t shoot anything!” Parrish cried, his hands up in a gesture of placation. “I just- I keep thinking- There’s a colour, a flower, and then it’s not there anymore.”
Lorne raised an eyebrow and lowered the P90. “A flower,” he said, his voice flat.
“I think so, but it can’t be, can it?” Parrish said, confusion evident in his voice. “Flowers don’t usually just disappear like that.”
“Doc, I think you’ve been in the sun too long.” Lorne reached down to grab his pack and secured it to his shoulders, then reached for Parrish’s straps, straightening and tightening them across the other man’s back. He very carefully did not let his hands linger, tempting though the long stretch of the man’s torso may be. Finally he patted the straps, allowing himself one last touch, and moved away.
“Let’s move out,” he said, and continued the long trudge up the hill. Parrish followed.
*****
Just as they reached the top of the small mountain, the clouds decided to open up and the rain began splattering on the rocky terrain. Hurriedly Lorne began to set up his tent on a groundsheet while Parrish rushed to collect as many samples of the requested root as possible, carefully digging the plant from the ground and keeping the dirt and root system intact while stashing them in sample cases. By the time Parrish dove into the small tent the rain was pouring down in sheets and he was soaked to the skin.
Lorne smothered a smile at the sight of the disheveled Parrish, jacket dripping on the canvas floor and soaked BDU pants clinging in all the right places. Hurriedly he tapped his radio. “Lorne to Crichton.”
“Crichton here, Major. Is it raining up there too?”
“It’s more than raining up here, Lieutenant. I think I saw Noah building a boat.” Lorne’s belly clenched when Parrish laughed quietly at his joke.
“Yeah, we’ve got a deluge going down here too. Moffat’s set up a tent and we’re going to wait it out. You doing the same?”
“I think that might be safest.” Lorne unzipped the window on the opposite side of the tent, alee from the direction of the rain. He got up on his knees and craned his neck to try to look up. “I don’t think it’s stopping any time soon. Radio check in in two hours?”
“Yes, sir. Crichton out.” The radio clicked off and Lorne pulled it from his ear, laying it carefully to the side. He sank back down and sat cross legged on the floor of the tent.
He glanced sideways at Parrish. “Looks like we’re stuck for a while.”
Parrish looked back from under wet eyelashes. “It’ll give me a chance to dry out.” A shiver went through him as he took off his sopping jacket. “And maybe warm up too.” He wrapped his arms around his torso and shivered again.
Lorne immediately dumped out his pack, asking, “Why didn’t you say something? He rummaged through the contents until he found a small Canned Heat. He pried up the lid and lit the blue jelly fuel with his waterproof lighter, then searched again for a silver space blanket. “Strip off your wet clothes and wrap up in this,” he said, tossing the little silver square to the other man.
Parrish quickly shed the outer layers of his clothes, pants and socks, vest and shirt, leaving him in only his boxer briefs and a foil blanket, huddling around the little portable heat source.
It was a point of pride for Lorne that he managed not to watch as Parrish undressed, though it took a lot of willpower and not a little bit of distraction. He looked steadfastly out the still unzipped window. “Better?” he asked.
“Much, thank you,” Parrish replied. The blanket rustled around him as he shifted closer to the heat.
“Good, good,” Lorne said, thinking rapidly. “Are you hung-?” he started to ask, cutting himself off.
“Am I ... what?” Parrish said, eyebrows drawing together.
“Shh!” Lorne said, waving his hands, still peering out the window. “That colour you kept seeing, was it purple, by any chance?”
The blanket rustled again and Lorne felt the other man move up close behind his shoulder. Parrish’s face pushed up close to Lorne’s and he squinted out the window, trying to see through the rain. “Did you see it? Tell me you saw it!”
“I saw something, yeah, over there.” He pointed and Parrish moved his face closer to Lorne’s trying to follow the line of his finger. “It was-” He broke off and cleared the huskiness from his throat, risking a glance sideways at Parrish and surprised when the other man’s face was only an inch or two from his own. He swallowed and looked back out the window. “It was right over there by that big rock, but it’s not there now, it’s just gone.”
Parrish shifted again and suddenly Lorne felt the other other man’s hot breath wafting over the back of his neck and onto his cheek and chin. He tried to suppress a shudder that worked its way down his back, but Parrish sucked in a small breath and looked from the window to Lorne’s face. He puffed another breath out, his lips close to the back of Lorne’s neck and this time Lorne couldn’t hold back the shiver. Heat pooled in his belly despite the damp chill inside the small tent and his breath quickened. He heard the blanket crinkle again and then felt Parrish’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently.
Lorne gritted his teeth and took a deep breath, then twisted gently away from the botanist and crawled over to the other side of the tent. “Hungry.”
“What?” asked Parrish, turning around.
“I was asking before I saw the ... thing ... are you hungry?” Lorne busied himself digging through his mess of supplies on the floor, looking for the MREs.
“Oh,” Parrish said, his eyes dropping to the floor. “No, I’m not hungry, thanks.” He pulled his blanket tighter and shuffled back to his spot on the floor, opposite the Major. Resolutely he stared into the tiny blue flame, his lips pressed together, his cheeks red.
Lorne’s professional sense warred with his libido and he closed his eyes, willed down a burgeoning erection and pulled a deck of cards from the jumble beside him. “Gin rummy?” He arched an eyebrow and quirked a grin, hoping Parrish wouldn’t take the redirection as a rejection. Later, he thought, if he’ll still have me.
*****
Two hours, one check in, many games of silent gin rummy and a sunset later, Lorne heated up two MREs and set out sleeping bags. The rain was in no danger of letting up any time soon and there was no way they could make it back down the treacherous path in the rain and the dark.
“I’m afraid we’re not going anywhere tonight,” he said, eyes on his pack as he stuffed everything back into it, making room to lay out Parrish’s still damp clothes.
Parrish wriggled himself into one of the bags and zipped it up to the top, rolling all the way over to the edge of the tent and facing the wall. “Good night, Major,” he said, voice flat and uninflected.
Lorne looked over at the lump of botanist, huddled dejectedly in his sleeping bag and pretending to sleep, and mentally kicked himself. There he was, being offered everything he’d wanted for so long, and he ... turned it down? God, what an idiot! He scrubbed a hand over his face and watched as Parrish’s body slowly lost its tension and relaxed into real sleep.
Carefully he crept back over to the window and watched the rain for a minute, the perfect counterpoint to his mood. The night was pitch black, no moon or stars breaking through the cloud cover. Lorne sighed deeply and gave up, heading for his sleeping bag.
As he began to shed his boots he was surprised by the side of the canvas poking inward. He froze and waited, watching the spot that had moved. The canvas moved again, accompanied this time by scratching sound. Lorne grabbed his boots and shoved his feet back in, snagging a flashlight as he pulled up the zipper on the door, poking his head out and flicking on the light. Sitting beside the tent was a small purple flower that Lorne was fairly sure hadn’t been there when he set the tent up.
He ducked back into the tent and grabbed his jacket and a thin rain poncho, taking a few seconds to tie his boots and slide the poncho over his head. No more than two minutes later he left the tent, turning to zip the door closed again to keep the tent dry. He rounded the corner and shone the light where the flower had been. Had been, because the flower was no longer there.
He stood for a moment, sweeping the light beam in ever widening arcs around where the flower had been, disbelieving it even as he looked for it. Impossible, it had to be, flowers don’t move.
Did they?
Finally he saw a flash of colour disappearing from the edge of the flashlight beam and he sprang forward to follow it. Maybe if he could catch this wandering -- plant? flower? animal, maybe? - Parrish would give him another chance. Just as he got close enough to reach down and grab it his feet slid out from under him and he slid down a bank of gushing mud and sluicing water.
Lorne let out a yell as he tumbled down, crashing into rocks and trees, his mouth filling with rainwater until he could barely breathe. Finally he came to a stop, lying sideways against the bottom of a large boulder after he crashed into it on landing. Everything hurt, his arms and legs and torso, his head pounded with a splitting headache, and he was soaked through to the skin. His clothes were ripped, the rain poncho a tattered mess, and was bleeding from innumerable scrapes and cuts to his exposed skin. His flashlight was nowhere to be found, the beam extinguished.
“Parrish!” he shouted, or tried to, but he had no breath in his lungs and it came out as a gasp instead. He tried to draw breath but succeeded only in a small gasp. “David!” he said again, softly, desperately, his eyes closed against the rain.
Unable to move, barely able to breathe, he laid there for so long he lost count of the minutes. He was cold, soaked through and miserable. His radio was still sitting beside the wall of the tent and he was completely unable to call for help. It was then that he felt the tapping on his cheek.
Carefully, tentatively, he turned his head and saw a small purple flower beside his face, tapping a sodden root on his cheek.
Lorne blinked water from his eyes. No, the flower was still there, tapping roots over his cheek and into his ear.
“Hello,” he said, feeling ridiculous. The roots continued their quest over his face and then worked their way down his neck, feeling under his collar and over his throat. “You’re a curious little beast aren’t you?”
Catch it, he was going to catch it for Parrish, he remembered now. He reached down and ripped a large piece of plastic from his now useless rain poncho. He spread it out over his palm and lifted the strange little flower up, placing the roots into the plastic. Carefully he bunched the plastic up around the roots and held it tightly around the stem of the plant, effectively trapping the roots so that it couldn’t run away again.
“Got you now,” he whispered triumphantly. Awkwardly he ripped another small piece of plastic and used it as a tie around the stem, holding the plastic trap closed. He pushed it into one of the roomier pockets of his BDUs and closed the flap over the blossom. Now if he could just get back up the bank...
“Major!” Parrish’s voice floated over the sound of the pounding raindrops. “Major Lorne!”
“Here!” His voice was still a strangled whisper. He cleared his throat, took as big a breath as he could manage and tried again. “Down here!”
Parrish must have been close enough that time because his head poked over the side of edge of the drop off, shining his own light down and into Lorne’s face. His eyebrows drew together in confusion. “What are you doing down there?”
Lorne laughed, bordering on hysterical. “Thought I’d take a walk,” he said between gasps.
“Oh my god, oh my god,” Parrish said, looking around behind himself. He looked back at Lorne. “Don’t move. Wait a minute, can you move?”
“I think so, I just-” He shifted slightly and tried to sit up. “Ugh! I just maybe need some help-”
“Wait right there, I’ll be right back,” Parrish said and disappeared.
“No, wait! Parrish! Just-!” Lorne stopped and just concentrated on sitting up. He sat still a minute and waited for the pounding behind his eyes to stop, then looked up at the edge of the drop off, wondering what Parrish thought he had up his sleeve.
Suddenly a rope dropped into a puddle beside him and Parrish began rappelling down the side of the muddy embankment. When he reached the ground he hopped lightly down and landed beside Lorne. He wrapped an arm around Lorne’s torso and pulled him to an almost standing position. “Can you walk?”
“I think so, yeah, but I don’t know about climbing.” He sagged against Parrish’s body and shivered as the other man’s heat bled through to his freezing body.
“No problem, Major,” Parrish said and pulled the rope over, winding it around Lorne’s body and up and through his legs, effectively creating a five point harness out of it. “You just stand here a minute while I climb back up and then I’ll pull you up.” Like a lithe monkey he grabbed hold of the rope and walked himself back up the muddy slope. When he reached the top he hollered back down, “Now grab the rope while I pull you up!”
Lorne felt the rope tighten and within seconds he was dangling in mid-air, bumping lightly against the slope as he was hefted upward. He looked down at the receding ground and briefly wondered at the skill with which Parrish had strapped him in. Apparently there was more to the thin, retiring botanist than reached the eye. Inch after inch he rose until he reached the top and was pulled into Parrish’s waiting arms. Deftly he untied the rope and guided Lorne back to the doorway of the tent.
Parrish let go of the Major only long enough to zip the door back down again and then turned his attention back to the freezing man. Silently he began unbuttoning and unzipping the ruined clothes, slipping them off Lorne’s shuddering body and wrapping him in the same silver blanket that he himself had used only a few hours before. Then he dug through his own pack for another can of jellied heat, setting that one alight as well.
He shed his own newly wet again clothes, spreading everything out to try and let it dry overnight, then moved the sleeping bags together and zipped them to each other. He silently guided Lorne into one side of it and then slipped into the other side, his front against Lorne’s shivering back, and fitted his body to Lorne’s, sharing heat and comfort.
Gradually Lorne’s body began to warm and the shivering got worse, then better, and he was able to drift off nearly to sleep, both comforted and excited by the feel of the man behind him. Cautiously he snuggled closer to Parrish, reveling in the warmth after being cold for so long. Parrish tightened his arm over Lorne’s chest and pulled him that much closer, pushing his nose into Lorne’s neck.
As Lorne finally succumbed to sleep, a last thought passed his lips.
“I caught your flower...”
*****
Morning broke over the top of the mountain, clear and crisp as only higher altitudes can get. The rain had finally quit overnight and the sky was again the wrong shade of blue.
Lorne awoke slowly, becoming vaguely aware of someone in his bed. His nose was pressed into a flat chest sprinkled with chest hair and his arm was wrapped around and under the same chest, hand trapped under a shoulder. His leg lay over other legs, his groin pressed up against a solid, hairy thigh. Arms were around him, holding him close and strong, and he could hear a soft snore with every breath.
The second he tried to move it all came back to him in a rush of pain and stiffness, and he couldn’t stifle the groan that escaped. Parrish startled awake, his arms tightening briefly.
“Um, good morning?” Lorne said, trying to raise his head. The pain in his neck was excruciating.
“Good morning,” Parrish replied, his voice thick with sleep. “How do you feel?” His hands traced lazily over Lorne’s shoulders, keeping him where he was.
“Sore. So very sore,” Lorne said, relaxing back down onto Parrish’s chest. He moved the leg covering Parrish’s experimentally. The pain wasn’t too terrible there.
“Are you warm enough?” Parrish turned over onto his side but kept his arms around Lorne’s shoulders.
“Oh yeah, definitely warm enough,” Lorne answered with a small chuckle. “Thanks for all this,” he continued.
“You’re welcome.” Parrish shifted his hips closer to Lorne’s and suddenly he was just a little too warm. The evidence of Parrish’s good morning came into contact with his own and he was breathless again, just as he’d been the night before, but for a much better reason. He rocked experimentally against Parrish and was rewarded with a gasp and a small moan from the other man. He waited, and Parrish rocked back against him, sending sparks up his back and down his legs as his eyes fluttered closed again.
“Crichton to Major Lorne, come in please!” a tinny voice said from beside the sleeping bag, and Lorne jerked back, away from Parrish. He wormed an arm out of the sack and grabbed the tiny radio. “Lorne here, go ahead Lieutenant.”
“Are you guys okay up there?”
“We could use a jumper, I think. We’re both out of dry clothes and I had ... a little fall last night, I’m a little banged up.” Lorne smiled at Parrish when he smirked at the word ‘little’.
“I’ll call in for one in just a few minutes. Shouldn’t take longer than an hour, I should think,” said Crichton.
“Okay, we’ll be ready. Lorne out.” He plucked out the earpiece and dropped it to the floor of the tent. He raised his eyes to meet Parrish’s. “So...”
“So.” Parrish replied softly, tracing a finger down Lorne’s cheek and over the stubble on his chin.
Lorne groaned and lunged forward, capturing Parrish’s lips in a bruising kiss. Lips slid against lips, tongues chased each other back and forth. Both men groaned and clutched at the other, bodies writhing together. Finally Lorne pulled back.
“That’s what I wanted to do last night,” he panted, pressing his forehead against Parrish’s. “I wanted to kiss you more than anything.”
“Why didn’t you?” Parrish asked.
“Because I was an idiot,” Lorne replied, smiling slightly. “Something I hope to remedy as often as possible. As soon as we get home.”
Parrish smiled and ran a hand down Lorne’s back, cupping his buttock and pulling Lorne against him, brushing their still very interested cocks together. “You’d better,” he growled.
Lorne waited for the fireworks to stop running down his spine before he pulled back and said, “Jumper’s coming, we have to pack.”
They struggled into their still damp clothes, Lorne hissing and wincing with every movement of his sore limbs and every brush of damp cloth over his abused skin. Parrish moved about the tent packing the stuff away and rolling up the sleeping bags. Finally by the time Parrish was done, Lorne had managed to get most of his clothes on and they moved outside the tent in order to collapse it. Parrish dropped Lorne’s pack onto the driest ground he could find and gently lowered Lorne onto it to sit and wait for the jumper while he shook out the sodden tent.
Just as he packed up the last of the gear the jumper appeared over the edge of the drop off and landed a few yards away in the mud. The back hatch opened and Colonel Sheppard’s voice floated out, followed by a medic from the infirmary and Lieutenant Crichton. Quickly the medic looked over both men, then helped Lorne into the back of the jumper while Crichton and Parrish loaded the rest of the gear and the plant samples into the back.
“Major, did you go three rounds with a bear?” Sheppard asked, twisting around in the pilot’s seat with a smirk firmly affixed on his face.
“Uh, no, sir,” Lorne said, blushing slightly. “Found a drop off in the middle of the night in the rain and hit every rock and tree on the way down.”
“Well, good job on the thoroughness, Lorne.”
“Thank you, sir,” Lorne replied with a grin. “I’d never have gotten back up again though if it weren’t for Parrish.”
Sheppard raised an eyebrow at the botanist.
“He came down on a rope, tied me into a harness and pulled me up again.” Lorne couldn’t keep the note of pride in his teammate out of his voice.
“Really?” Sheppard drawled. “Very resourceful of you, Doctor Parrish.”
“Well ... I used to- I know how-” Parrish stammered and looked down, taking a breath. “I used to go mountain climbing when I was a student. My thesis was on mountain scrub brush and how minimal its soil requirements were, and if we could genetically adapt other food plants to grow like them. I spent a lot of time on the sides of mountains.” He broke off and cast an embarrassed look at his audience.
Colonel Sheppard grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. “Good thing too or the Major would still be wallowing in his mud bath.” He headed back to the front of the jumper and retook the pilot’s seat. “What say we get this show on the road and get you guys home and into a shower?”
“Yes, sir!” Lorne said feelingly. His disgust at his own filth was palpable.
*****
As soon as they were back in Atlantis Lorne and Parrish were hustled off to the infirmary and given a thorough exam. Parrish was released first and he immediately went to his planting room to take care of the root samples he had taken. Lorne was kept longer, clucked over and examined by Doctor Beckett, then finally released with a stern admonition to take it easy and let the bruises heal. There was nothing wrong with him that a few days rest couldn’t take care of.
Slowly he made his way to his room, wondering at the absence of his teammate. He’d disappeared as soon as he could and Lorne hadn’t seen him since. Did he regret the night before? Or did he just not believe that Lorne had wanted him for more than just his heat? Lorne reached his door and shuffled through, leaning against the wall inside for a moment. He shut his eyes and let his head drop back and sighed.
He gathered his strength again and stumbled from the wall to the bed, sat down and began stripping off his ruined and filthy clothes. It took an eternity to get his boots unlaced, and then another one to get his uniform shirt unbuttoned, and by the time he was down to just his pants he was sure he must have visibly aged. Methodically he went through his pockets, emptying out everything onto the bedside table until he came to the big roomy ones on the sides and realized that there was something in it. He fumbled at the buttons, finally got the flap up and pulled out the contents. The purple flower, roots still wrapped in the rain poncho remnant, lay in his palm, wriggling feebly.
Oh, crap.
As quickly as he could Lorne pulled on the easiest clothes he could find, an old t-shirt, a pair of sweats and runners, and with renewed energy he left his room, cradling the poor abused flower in his hands. He stopped in the hall when he realized he had no idea where Parrish was.
“Lorne to Control Room,” he said, tapping his radio.
“Chuck here, Major, what can I do for you?”
“Can you tell me where Doctor Parrish is, Chuck?”
There was a moment of silence. “Not for sure, Major, but there is one life sign in the lab he usually uses, so it’s probably a good bet. Why don’t you just call him?”
Lorne winced and thought quickly. “I didn’t want to pull him away from what he was doing, I just need to drop something off for him. Thanks, Chuck,” he said, then disconnected before Chuck could ask anything else.
He set off for the Botany labs as fast as his sore muscles would take him, arriving no more than 15 minutes later. Quietly he poked his head around the corner and saw Parrish re-planting the roots he had taken from the mountain top. He stepped in and cleared his throat.
“Major!” Parrish exclaimed, twisting around on his stool. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in the infirmary?”
“No, I was sprung. Nothing too serious. Listen, I have-”
“Then you should be in your quarters,” Parrish said, speaking over him. He rose and approached Lorne, hands moving as though he expected to have to catch Lorne when he fell.
“I was, but I found-”
“Come on, let me take you back,” Parrish interrupted him again. “Or would you rather I called a nurse for you?” At this last, the botanist backed away slightly, dropping his hands and averting his eyes.
“No, just listen,” Lorne said, moving closer. “I caught your flower.”
“You said that last night, but I still don’t know what you mean.”
Lorne held up his cupped hands, presenting the little flower. “I heard a noise, that’s why I was out in the rain. I found the flower, but when I got back outside to get it, it had moved away. You were right, it can walk. I was trying to catch it when I went down that embankment, and then the flower came to me, so I caught it and wrapped it up so it wouldn’t escape again.” He looked down at the forlorn little plant. “I don’t think it’s doing very well though after spending the night in my pocket. Think you can save it?”
Reverently Parrish picked up the flower and untied the plastic binding its roots. He placed it in his hand and it feebly began to crawl to the edge of his palm, roots feeling around for solid ground. With a huge smile on his face, he turned back to his planting table and reached for a large plastic tray of dirt.
Lorne smiled and turned to go.
“Major, wait just a minute until I can get this planted and I’ll help you back to your room.” He turned on the stool and smiled brilliantly at Lorne. “Please?”
Lorne nodded and sagged against the wall to wait.
It took only a few minutes to get the little plant back into some dirt and covered up so hopefully it wouldn’t go anywhere, then Parrish scrubbed his hands and came back to the door, wrapping one long arm around Lorne’s waist and taking some of his weight. Together they slowly made their way back to the residential area and back into Lorne’s room.
Again Parrish took charge and maneuvered Lorne until he was seated in the bathroom, then grabbed a cloth, wetted it down and began to wash the dirt and mud and muck from Lorne’s abused body. He pulled off clothes as he went, washing carefully over bruises and scrapes, scrubbing at the worst bits until Lorne was finally clean again, and incidentally naked.
Then Parrish pulled him up again and moved him the few feet to his bed, lowering Lorne down until he could lay back on the mattress. Lorne couldn’t help the groan as he relaxed into the comforting softness, or the snuffling sigh as Parrish pulled up the blankets and tucked them in around him.
“I’ll just...” Parrish said, trailing off as he gestured vaguely at the door.
Lorne opened his eyes again. “Stay,” he said, voice low and soft. “Please.” He shifted over on the bed as Parrish approached, flipping the blankets up in what he hoped was a clear invitation.
Quickly Parrish shed his boots, pants and shirt, sliding into the bed in just his underwear and a t-shirt, and wrapped his arms carefully around Lorne much as he had done the night before. “Are you sure you want to, you must still be sore-”
Lorne surged forward and cut off the words with a kiss, both demanding and delicate at once. He brought his hand up and tangled it in Parrish’s - David’s - hair, holding him steady while he explored and tasted and claimed David’s mouth. He felt David’s leg slide between his own and he thrust slightly against the strong muscle of David’s thigh, reveling in the gasp and moan it elicited.
Evan spread his hand wide over the small of David’s back, then scrabbled his fingers under the hem of the t-shirt until he could feel bare skin on his palm. David pulled back slight and tugged at the t-shirt until he could work it over his head, then reached behind himself and dropped it on the floor. He hesitated as he reached for the waistband of his boxer shorts but Evan pushed at the elastic desperately, muffling a frustrated grunt on David’s own lips when the elastic wouldn’t stay down. David grinned and pushed them down himself, working them down his legs and kicking them into the foot of the bed, then came back to Evan’s lips, diving in for another kiss.
David’s hands ran up and down his back, over his ass and up his sides, softly, carefully, never more than just a brushing presence, until he grabbed a handful of Lorne’s ass and pulled, forcefully, until their hips were pressed together, hard cocks trapped between their stomachs. Lorne broke away from the kiss and gasped, “God, David!” as his hips pumped helplessly forward into the other man’s. His cock brushed over David’s, up one side and down the other, spreading slick wetness over both of them.
“Oh god, Evan, yes,” David groaned, hips thrusting in return, thigh brushing up against the sensitive skin of Evan’s sac, fingers probing as he squeezed Evan’s buttock. They stayed there, thrusting and rutting, breathing wetly over each other’s necks and faces, panting and grunting, until finally David stiffened, hips stuttering and rocking in short, sharp thrusts. He threw back his head, his eyes closed tight and teeth clenched together, then cried, “Evan!” and shot pulse after pulse of hot fluid over Evan’s belly.
That tipped Evan over the edge and he too came, abused muscles clenching spasmodically, groaning David’s name into his neck where Evan pressed his face. For a long moment they lay there, pressed together, panting like runners, holding each other tightly. Then David pulled back slightly and kissed Evan, a long, slow, sweet kiss full of longing and promises. He rolled out of the bed and staggered to the bathroom on weak legs, returning with the wet cloth. He cleaned them both up and then slid back into the bed, once again wrapping Evan in his long arms and pulling him close.
They were silent for a long moment, then, “You brought me a flower,” David said, his voice a husky whisper.
“I *caught* you a flower,” Evan corrected, the smile evident in his voice.
“You could have killed yourself doing that,” David said.
Evan wasn’t sure if David was angry or not. “That wasn’t my intention, believe me. I just wanted to give you the plant. And it worked, you have the plant.”
“I wanted you, not the plant,” David replied.
“You have both,” Evan whispered. He pushed closer to the other man, burying his nose in David’s neck and breathing deeply. His sore muscles relaxed into sleep.
Just as he was drifting off, he heard David say, “I’ll take both.” David’s arms tightened around him again, and he dropped off to sleep with a smile.