FIC: The Festival of Giving Thanks
Hopefully this is sneaking under the deadline. Happy Thanksgiving to those celebrating!
The Festival of Giving Thanks
PG-13
The speeches greeting their visitors were over and the traditional Telling, with its call and response that grew more complicated every year, was likewise at an end. When John saw Rodney wander off, he was sure that Rodney was on his way to the buffet. Given that Rodney had been anticipating--loudly and to anyone who would listen--the roast silmon fowl for the last month, it was a safe bet that he would use his status to be at or near the head of the food line.
But when John followed both his nose and the crowd to the trestle tables that all but groaned under the weight of delicacies from a dozen or so worlds, Rodney was nowhere to be seen. Hiding a faint frown of worry, John wandered the town square, pausing to greet friends and allies and his own people. By the time he reached the wide stone balcony that overlooked the sea, his hand hurt a little from all the handshakes and his smile felt like it was pasted on.
And there was Rodney, broad shoulders a little more stooped then they had been when John had met him, the soft light of Pilar, the smaller of the planet's two moons, gleaming faintly on his bare scalp.
"Hey," John said, coming up behind Rodney. "What's the matter?" He moved in closer and slid his arms around Rodney's waist.
"Hmmmm?"
"I expected to find you already working on your first plateful."
Rodney leaned back and John smiled into Rodney's neck.
"It's been twenty years," Rodney said and John frowned a little.
"Fourteen actually," he said. "I think Ronon's already planning next year's big fifteen year thing."
"Tomorrow, it will be twenty years to the day since we stepped through the gate and into Atlantis." Rodney turned in John's arms until they were face to face. "Give or take a week or two to account for different calenders."
There were days when John felt every one of those twenty years, could see them in the lines on his face and the silver hairs that outnumbered the brown on his head. "You know," he says, pulling Rodney even closer. "I felt better that day, knowing you were there."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I had no clue about...well anything I was seeing, but I figured you did."
Rodney chuckled. "It's funny, because I was feeling that, in spite of everything I knew, I was in over my head. You and your P-90 were pretty reassuring."
They were silent for a long moment and then Rodney reached up a hand, running his fingers through the hair on the back of John's head and pressing down until John's mouth met his. The kiss was easy and comfortably familiar; somewhere along the way, John had lost count of how many times they had kissed and that was....
"'Why, on this night, do we give thanks together and not alone?'" he murmured against Rodney's mouth.
"'We give thanks because we are together and not alone,'" Rodney replied. "I never even know who it is that I'm thanking." He rested his forehead against John's "But in this case," he continued, very quietly. "It doesn't matter. I'm just thankful for...for you."
John took a deep breath; neither of them was normally given to talking about their feelings. They'd stayed together for over fifteen years and he usually figured that that was meaningful beyond any words he could say.
"I...you too," he said, so softly he was afraid Rodney couldn't hear it. "I don't know what I'd do without you and I'm thankful I don't have to find out."
This time the kiss was deeper and much less about comfort than the other had been. "I could do you right now," Rodney said when they finally broke apart.
"Let's grab some food first," John said, because someone had to be the practical one here, never mind that sneaking off to their house sounded like a damn good idea.
Rodney looked like he was going to protest when his stomach rumbled. "Okay fine, but if there isn't any roast silmon left...." As they turned and headed toward the banquet tables, John laughed and rested a hand on Rodney's back.
-end-
The Festival of Giving Thanks
PG-13
The speeches greeting their visitors were over and the traditional Telling, with its call and response that grew more complicated every year, was likewise at an end. When John saw Rodney wander off, he was sure that Rodney was on his way to the buffet. Given that Rodney had been anticipating--loudly and to anyone who would listen--the roast silmon fowl for the last month, it was a safe bet that he would use his status to be at or near the head of the food line.
But when John followed both his nose and the crowd to the trestle tables that all but groaned under the weight of delicacies from a dozen or so worlds, Rodney was nowhere to be seen. Hiding a faint frown of worry, John wandered the town square, pausing to greet friends and allies and his own people. By the time he reached the wide stone balcony that overlooked the sea, his hand hurt a little from all the handshakes and his smile felt like it was pasted on.
And there was Rodney, broad shoulders a little more stooped then they had been when John had met him, the soft light of Pilar, the smaller of the planet's two moons, gleaming faintly on his bare scalp.
"Hey," John said, coming up behind Rodney. "What's the matter?" He moved in closer and slid his arms around Rodney's waist.
"Hmmmm?"
"I expected to find you already working on your first plateful."
Rodney leaned back and John smiled into Rodney's neck.
"It's been twenty years," Rodney said and John frowned a little.
"Fourteen actually," he said. "I think Ronon's already planning next year's big fifteen year thing."
"Tomorrow, it will be twenty years to the day since we stepped through the gate and into Atlantis." Rodney turned in John's arms until they were face to face. "Give or take a week or two to account for different calenders."
There were days when John felt every one of those twenty years, could see them in the lines on his face and the silver hairs that outnumbered the brown on his head. "You know," he says, pulling Rodney even closer. "I felt better that day, knowing you were there."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I had no clue about...well anything I was seeing, but I figured you did."
Rodney chuckled. "It's funny, because I was feeling that, in spite of everything I knew, I was in over my head. You and your P-90 were pretty reassuring."
They were silent for a long moment and then Rodney reached up a hand, running his fingers through the hair on the back of John's head and pressing down until John's mouth met his. The kiss was easy and comfortably familiar; somewhere along the way, John had lost count of how many times they had kissed and that was....
"'Why, on this night, do we give thanks together and not alone?'" he murmured against Rodney's mouth.
"'We give thanks because we are together and not alone,'" Rodney replied. "I never even know who it is that I'm thanking." He rested his forehead against John's "But in this case," he continued, very quietly. "It doesn't matter. I'm just thankful for...for you."
John took a deep breath; neither of them was normally given to talking about their feelings. They'd stayed together for over fifteen years and he usually figured that that was meaningful beyond any words he could say.
"I...you too," he said, so softly he was afraid Rodney couldn't hear it. "I don't know what I'd do without you and I'm thankful I don't have to find out."
This time the kiss was deeper and much less about comfort than the other had been. "I could do you right now," Rodney said when they finally broke apart.
"Let's grab some food first," John said, because someone had to be the practical one here, never mind that sneaking off to their house sounded like a damn good idea.
Rodney looked like he was going to protest when his stomach rumbled. "Okay fine, but if there isn't any roast silmon left...." As they turned and headed toward the banquet tables, John laughed and rested a hand on Rodney's back.
-end-