Fic: What We Deserve - SGA
Title: What We Deserve
Fandom: SGA
Characters: Ronon Dex/Jeannie Miller
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 1132
Prompt: Cadenza Challenge at 5_prompts - Title: The right kind of wrong
Author's Note: This story is written for colls at the sgoc Christmas Gift Giving and is set Smack Dab in the middle of "The Shrine".
The knock at the door woke Ronon out of his first sound sleep in days. He'd been dreaming of his home - the street he'd walked down a hundred times to Melena's front door, the cafe where they'd have a late dinner after her shift was over, the view of the city from the roof of the Atteria at sunset. It was better, he supposed, than the alternative, but with death and destruction, he woke up in the morning ready for action. These dreams of his past always made him feel brittle and bruised for hours after he finally got out of bed.
While the person on the other side of the door felt that he wasn't moving fast enough, Ronon stretched his arms over his head in an attempt to release some of the building tension. Rodney's condition came back to him like a wooden stake to the stomach. He couldn't believe how much it hurt to see his friend regressing. No wonder he was dreaming of his past. All the pain he was surrounded by during the day was only coalescing into a litany of other people he hadn't been able to save.
"Couldn't this wait-" he started to say as he opened the door but stopped as he saw who it was. This most definitely wasn't who he'd thought he'd see. "Hey."
"I'm sorry. It's late and you were obviously sleeping. I don't know why I came. I... just...." Jeannie put her hands over her eyes but it was proving to be very ineffective defense against the tears that lined her reddened eyes. This wasn't the first time he'd found a weeping Jeannie in front of him today.
She let him put his arms around her this time, though. Instead of trying to run away, she was running to him. He liked the way she felt, half-huddled in on herself while still trying to draw some comfort from him. With the shadows of his dreams still hanging on to him, Ronon needed to give comfort as much as Jeannie needed to receive it.
"Come inside," he whispered into her hair. The color was so similar to Rodney's but the waves were infinitely softer. Much more like Melena's than anyone else he'd met since losing her. "Anyone could walk by."
Jeannie pulled back, her eyelids blinking at a fast speed to dry the tears that were actively spilling out. "You're right. What was I thinking? I shouldn't have-"
"No, no. It was right for you to come. I just don't want anyone... just come inside. Please?"
As he closed the door, she began to pace across his room. Her compact body was small but filled up the space as her worry became a palpable presence. It was obvious she wanted to talk about what was happening to her brother and the strategy that he had provided but neither of them seemed to know how to start the conversation.
"Tell me this is going to work," she finally said, her voice breaking with the deep emotion she was trying to handle. "Ronon? Tell me this is going to work."
"It will. It has to."
"What if... what if I lose my... my...."
He was holding her again, this time their bodies pressed so tightly against each other that he could feel her body heat through the thin clothing he wore to sleep in. All the muscles in her body were tight and the nerve endings were vibrating, as if she was having to work at holding herself together and if she let up at any point, she might explode into a thousand tiny pieces that had once been Jeannie Miller.
His own body was tight but for an entirely different reason. Her scent wasn't like than anything he'd ever smelled, more like the perfume that some of the female soldiers wore sometimes than anything he'd ever smelled before. It was floral but he was unfamiliar with the exact name. It was beautiful was what it was. The most pure thing he'd ever smelled and it was coming from the sister of one of his best friends. A sister who was mourning her brother. A married woman with a child who lived a lifetime away from Atlantis.
She must have sensed something of his thoughts because she started to move away from him again. This time, he didn't let her. She needed comfort and damn if he wasn't going to give it to her. In a way, she was providing him with the same thing. Tonight, he was going to make sure that she got whatever it was that she needed so that she could continue wherever this path went. If she needed to be held, he would hold her. He could do this without imposing any of his own thoughts and feelings onto her.
One of her hands moved under his shirt, flattening against his lower back. It took a few breaths before he could relax again. When he did, she was looking up at him, her small smile brightening her teary eyes. "You're warm."
"I... uh... sorry?"
Her other hand joined the first. This most definitely wasn't a mistake on his part. She had been very deliberate about her movements. There was no mistaking her intentions but still, he couldn't let himself hope.
"Jeannie?"
"This is so wrong but I don't care. I can't handle this alone."
He shook his head, hoping she didn't think he was judging her. "I wouldn't want you to feel you have to be alone. We're here for you."
Her smile widened. "I don't want we. I just want you."
"You can have me." Ronon cleared his throat, wanting to make everything perfectly clear before things led to where he thought they were going. "And I understand about your... life."
New tears welled in her eyes. "Don't talk me out of this, Ronon. I need something more than my life tonight. No one back home even knows where I am right now and I'll never be able to tell them about this. Not ever."
His answer was a kiss to her quivering upper lip. As she took a deep breath, he felt her muscles loosen as all the tension in her body just evaporated. "If it makes you feel any better, I won't be able to tell anyone about this either."
Her laugh was the most beautiful sound Ronon had ever heard. That was, until she moaned later in the night. Those two sounds were like a balm to his frayed nerves. When he dreamed of this night, and he knew he would, he hoped that he got those sounds exactly right. She deserved to have something happy from this horrible time and he deserved... he deserved exactly what she would let him have.
Fandom: SGA
Characters: Ronon Dex/Jeannie Miller
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 1132
Prompt: Cadenza Challenge at 5_prompts - Title: The right kind of wrong
Author's Note: This story is written for colls at the sgoc Christmas Gift Giving and is set Smack Dab in the middle of "The Shrine".
The knock at the door woke Ronon out of his first sound sleep in days. He'd been dreaming of his home - the street he'd walked down a hundred times to Melena's front door, the cafe where they'd have a late dinner after her shift was over, the view of the city from the roof of the Atteria at sunset. It was better, he supposed, than the alternative, but with death and destruction, he woke up in the morning ready for action. These dreams of his past always made him feel brittle and bruised for hours after he finally got out of bed.
While the person on the other side of the door felt that he wasn't moving fast enough, Ronon stretched his arms over his head in an attempt to release some of the building tension. Rodney's condition came back to him like a wooden stake to the stomach. He couldn't believe how much it hurt to see his friend regressing. No wonder he was dreaming of his past. All the pain he was surrounded by during the day was only coalescing into a litany of other people he hadn't been able to save.
"Couldn't this wait-" he started to say as he opened the door but stopped as he saw who it was. This most definitely wasn't who he'd thought he'd see. "Hey."
"I'm sorry. It's late and you were obviously sleeping. I don't know why I came. I... just...." Jeannie put her hands over her eyes but it was proving to be very ineffective defense against the tears that lined her reddened eyes. This wasn't the first time he'd found a weeping Jeannie in front of him today.
She let him put his arms around her this time, though. Instead of trying to run away, she was running to him. He liked the way she felt, half-huddled in on herself while still trying to draw some comfort from him. With the shadows of his dreams still hanging on to him, Ronon needed to give comfort as much as Jeannie needed to receive it.
"Come inside," he whispered into her hair. The color was so similar to Rodney's but the waves were infinitely softer. Much more like Melena's than anyone else he'd met since losing her. "Anyone could walk by."
Jeannie pulled back, her eyelids blinking at a fast speed to dry the tears that were actively spilling out. "You're right. What was I thinking? I shouldn't have-"
"No, no. It was right for you to come. I just don't want anyone... just come inside. Please?"
As he closed the door, she began to pace across his room. Her compact body was small but filled up the space as her worry became a palpable presence. It was obvious she wanted to talk about what was happening to her brother and the strategy that he had provided but neither of them seemed to know how to start the conversation.
"Tell me this is going to work," she finally said, her voice breaking with the deep emotion she was trying to handle. "Ronon? Tell me this is going to work."
"It will. It has to."
"What if... what if I lose my... my...."
He was holding her again, this time their bodies pressed so tightly against each other that he could feel her body heat through the thin clothing he wore to sleep in. All the muscles in her body were tight and the nerve endings were vibrating, as if she was having to work at holding herself together and if she let up at any point, she might explode into a thousand tiny pieces that had once been Jeannie Miller.
His own body was tight but for an entirely different reason. Her scent wasn't like than anything he'd ever smelled, more like the perfume that some of the female soldiers wore sometimes than anything he'd ever smelled before. It was floral but he was unfamiliar with the exact name. It was beautiful was what it was. The most pure thing he'd ever smelled and it was coming from the sister of one of his best friends. A sister who was mourning her brother. A married woman with a child who lived a lifetime away from Atlantis.
She must have sensed something of his thoughts because she started to move away from him again. This time, he didn't let her. She needed comfort and damn if he wasn't going to give it to her. In a way, she was providing him with the same thing. Tonight, he was going to make sure that she got whatever it was that she needed so that she could continue wherever this path went. If she needed to be held, he would hold her. He could do this without imposing any of his own thoughts and feelings onto her.
One of her hands moved under his shirt, flattening against his lower back. It took a few breaths before he could relax again. When he did, she was looking up at him, her small smile brightening her teary eyes. "You're warm."
"I... uh... sorry?"
Her other hand joined the first. This most definitely wasn't a mistake on his part. She had been very deliberate about her movements. There was no mistaking her intentions but still, he couldn't let himself hope.
"Jeannie?"
"This is so wrong but I don't care. I can't handle this alone."
He shook his head, hoping she didn't think he was judging her. "I wouldn't want you to feel you have to be alone. We're here for you."
Her smile widened. "I don't want we. I just want you."
"You can have me." Ronon cleared his throat, wanting to make everything perfectly clear before things led to where he thought they were going. "And I understand about your... life."
New tears welled in her eyes. "Don't talk me out of this, Ronon. I need something more than my life tonight. No one back home even knows where I am right now and I'll never be able to tell them about this. Not ever."
His answer was a kiss to her quivering upper lip. As she took a deep breath, he felt her muscles loosen as all the tension in her body just evaporated. "If it makes you feel any better, I won't be able to tell anyone about this either."
Her laugh was the most beautiful sound Ronon had ever heard. That was, until she moaned later in the night. Those two sounds were like a balm to his frayed nerves. When he dreamed of this night, and he knew he would, he hoped that he got those sounds exactly right. She deserved to have something happy from this horrible time and he deserved... he deserved exactly what she would let him have.