Joyful Joyful
Joyful Joyful; 1,070 words; PG
"You're just saying that because you're with, uh, Banks."
John heard a long silence. Rodney must be talking to Ronon, who was undoubtedly giving him the stink eye. John took another sip from the cup of ruus wine in his hand and stared up at the stars. The long day was finally over and it seemed as though everyone had come out to the celebration. A sad celebration, John thought, taking another drink, but at long last they were home, Atlantis in Pegasus, and Teyla returned to her people.
He leaned against one of white-barked trees clustered at this edge of the meadow the Athosians had settled in. The trees reminded John of aspen, with narrow white trunks that reached high above his head before branches heavy with golden leaves sprang out, interlaced with the branches of the surrounding trees. Parrish had once told John that the Ancients called these trees Candidi, shining white, and they did seem to shine, the same color as the white stars above.
"What?"
Rodney again. John looked around; where were they that he could hear them so clearly? The Candidi trunks, smooth and glowing in the night, shouldn't be able to hide anyone, let alone two big men.
"You are not that stupid," Ronon said, sounding irritated and a little drunk. He seemed to get stuck on the s in stupid. "Ssstupid McKay. Sssstupid Meredith."
"Shut up," Rodney said, but to John's surprise, he sounded sad. "You know I'm not."
"I know you're not," Ronon agreed. John listened harder; what were they doing? And where? He turned around slowly, trying to be silent; if he could hear them, they should be able to hear him. "You're not."
"You know why," Rodney burst out, almost a shout. John jumped. "Hell, I don't even know if we're really friends."
"Bullshit. Maybe you are stupid. Let's ask Teyla."
"Fuck that, no, get over here, not Teyla."
Finally John was able to locate their location; they seemed to be wrestling -- what the hell was going on? He peered around a tree trunk into the thick brush that led away from the settlement toward the hills. The bushes were heaving and in their midst he saw a sudden flash of Rodney's pale face, then Ronon's leather-clad back.
"I'm not going anywhere, McKay. Knock it off." More bush-heaving and then Ronon said, "You're drunk."
"Mm-not. You are." A pause, and then Rodney giggled. "You son of a whore."
To John's surprise, Ronon bellowed with laughter, Rodney joining in. He had no idea why they found that epithet so hysterical. He wondered if he were drunk and imagining this.
The laughter petered out, both the men laughing, then sighing, then another giggle, hell, even Ronon giggled. There was a sudden thump and they rolled out of the bushes. "Fuck," Rodney groaned, sitting up.
Ronon stretched out on his side, head propped on an elbow, facing away from John and toward Rodney, who sat legs splayed, learning forward with his hands on the ground between his knees. "Whoa," Rodney said. "Dizzy."
"Ruus wine," Ronon agreed. "Seriously, you should tell him."
"Seriously, you should shut up." Rodney glared at Ronon, then closed his eyes and dropped his head again. "He's US military, as you well know. And maybe he's a friend, I like to think so, and maybe we could be, you know, but probably not, and Jesus, I cannot believe I'm talking to you about this. Just shut up."
"Tell him, McKay, before you both get too old to get it up."
Rodney put a hand over his face. "Oh my god." He pointed dramatically at Ronon. "You are forbidden ever to speak to an Earth person again! They are bad for you, do you hear? Bad Ronon!"
Ronon grabbed Rodney's pointing finger and tugged; Rodney collapsed on his side. Ronon straightened him out so they lay side by side looking into each other's face. "'kay," Ronon said, and then, before John's astonished eyes, he kissed Rodney on the forehead, rolled him onto his back, and jumped to his feet. "Whoa," he said as Rodney had, swaying. Then he marched back toward the settlement.
"Tell Banks and you fucking die!" Rodney shouted at him from where Ronon had pushed him, outstretched on the ground, staring up at the sky.
Ronon passed by John and winked, punched him in the arm hard enough John nearly dropped his mug, and then loped away.
"I know you're there," Rodney said. "Witness to my humiliation. That ruus wine is powerful shit. Tastes better than the hooch the engineers cook up but my god, it's twice as strong."
"Uh," John said. He wove through the tree trunks and sat next to Rodney, then held out his mug. "Want more?"
"God, yes." Rodney pushed himself up to sit next to John, his hip bumping John's thigh, and took the mug. He drank deeply, wiped his mouth, and sighed. Returning the mug, he said, "Don't ask."
"Wasn't going to," John said, and suddenly he knew he wasn't going to ask, wasn't going to say a goddamn thing. He set the mug down a safe distance away, twisted to face Rodney, and took him into his arms, closing his eyes, inhaling deeply the summer night, the broken bushes' sweet sappy scent, the ruus wine on Rodney's breath, and then he kissed Rodney.
Rodney hummed a slight happy sound and pulled John closer, until he was sitting between Rodney's legs. With John's arms around Rodney's shoulders and Rodney's hands around John's waist, they pressed tightly together, kissing hard and kissing soft, Rodney's lips soft on John's, on his cheek and chin, and then back on his mouth, his tongue pushing against John's, a little sloppy, a lot sweet, and then they slowly toppled to lie wrapped around each other on the damp grassy ground. John stared at Rodney, nearly cross-eyed so near.
Rodney smiled shyly, and reached up for John's chin, guiding him nearer so their lips met again, gently this time, tenderly, and John thought: no, Rodney isn't that stupid, but I sure am, and they lay between the white trunks and beneath the white stars and kissed in the warm summer night until they both knew what Ronon had known, what Rodney had hoped, and what John now believed, and then they kissed some more.
"You're just saying that because you're with, uh, Banks."
John heard a long silence. Rodney must be talking to Ronon, who was undoubtedly giving him the stink eye. John took another sip from the cup of ruus wine in his hand and stared up at the stars. The long day was finally over and it seemed as though everyone had come out to the celebration. A sad celebration, John thought, taking another drink, but at long last they were home, Atlantis in Pegasus, and Teyla returned to her people.
He leaned against one of white-barked trees clustered at this edge of the meadow the Athosians had settled in. The trees reminded John of aspen, with narrow white trunks that reached high above his head before branches heavy with golden leaves sprang out, interlaced with the branches of the surrounding trees. Parrish had once told John that the Ancients called these trees Candidi, shining white, and they did seem to shine, the same color as the white stars above.
"What?"
Rodney again. John looked around; where were they that he could hear them so clearly? The Candidi trunks, smooth and glowing in the night, shouldn't be able to hide anyone, let alone two big men.
"You are not that stupid," Ronon said, sounding irritated and a little drunk. He seemed to get stuck on the s in stupid. "Ssstupid McKay. Sssstupid Meredith."
"Shut up," Rodney said, but to John's surprise, he sounded sad. "You know I'm not."
"I know you're not," Ronon agreed. John listened harder; what were they doing? And where? He turned around slowly, trying to be silent; if he could hear them, they should be able to hear him. "You're not."
"You know why," Rodney burst out, almost a shout. John jumped. "Hell, I don't even know if we're really friends."
"Bullshit. Maybe you are stupid. Let's ask Teyla."
"Fuck that, no, get over here, not Teyla."
Finally John was able to locate their location; they seemed to be wrestling -- what the hell was going on? He peered around a tree trunk into the thick brush that led away from the settlement toward the hills. The bushes were heaving and in their midst he saw a sudden flash of Rodney's pale face, then Ronon's leather-clad back.
"I'm not going anywhere, McKay. Knock it off." More bush-heaving and then Ronon said, "You're drunk."
"Mm-not. You are." A pause, and then Rodney giggled. "You son of a whore."
To John's surprise, Ronon bellowed with laughter, Rodney joining in. He had no idea why they found that epithet so hysterical. He wondered if he were drunk and imagining this.
The laughter petered out, both the men laughing, then sighing, then another giggle, hell, even Ronon giggled. There was a sudden thump and they rolled out of the bushes. "Fuck," Rodney groaned, sitting up.
Ronon stretched out on his side, head propped on an elbow, facing away from John and toward Rodney, who sat legs splayed, learning forward with his hands on the ground between his knees. "Whoa," Rodney said. "Dizzy."
"Ruus wine," Ronon agreed. "Seriously, you should tell him."
"Seriously, you should shut up." Rodney glared at Ronon, then closed his eyes and dropped his head again. "He's US military, as you well know. And maybe he's a friend, I like to think so, and maybe we could be, you know, but probably not, and Jesus, I cannot believe I'm talking to you about this. Just shut up."
"Tell him, McKay, before you both get too old to get it up."
Rodney put a hand over his face. "Oh my god." He pointed dramatically at Ronon. "You are forbidden ever to speak to an Earth person again! They are bad for you, do you hear? Bad Ronon!"
Ronon grabbed Rodney's pointing finger and tugged; Rodney collapsed on his side. Ronon straightened him out so they lay side by side looking into each other's face. "'kay," Ronon said, and then, before John's astonished eyes, he kissed Rodney on the forehead, rolled him onto his back, and jumped to his feet. "Whoa," he said as Rodney had, swaying. Then he marched back toward the settlement.
"Tell Banks and you fucking die!" Rodney shouted at him from where Ronon had pushed him, outstretched on the ground, staring up at the sky.
Ronon passed by John and winked, punched him in the arm hard enough John nearly dropped his mug, and then loped away.
"I know you're there," Rodney said. "Witness to my humiliation. That ruus wine is powerful shit. Tastes better than the hooch the engineers cook up but my god, it's twice as strong."
"Uh," John said. He wove through the tree trunks and sat next to Rodney, then held out his mug. "Want more?"
"God, yes." Rodney pushed himself up to sit next to John, his hip bumping John's thigh, and took the mug. He drank deeply, wiped his mouth, and sighed. Returning the mug, he said, "Don't ask."
"Wasn't going to," John said, and suddenly he knew he wasn't going to ask, wasn't going to say a goddamn thing. He set the mug down a safe distance away, twisted to face Rodney, and took him into his arms, closing his eyes, inhaling deeply the summer night, the broken bushes' sweet sappy scent, the ruus wine on Rodney's breath, and then he kissed Rodney.
Rodney hummed a slight happy sound and pulled John closer, until he was sitting between Rodney's legs. With John's arms around Rodney's shoulders and Rodney's hands around John's waist, they pressed tightly together, kissing hard and kissing soft, Rodney's lips soft on John's, on his cheek and chin, and then back on his mouth, his tongue pushing against John's, a little sloppy, a lot sweet, and then they slowly toppled to lie wrapped around each other on the damp grassy ground. John stared at Rodney, nearly cross-eyed so near.
Rodney smiled shyly, and reached up for John's chin, guiding him nearer so their lips met again, gently this time, tenderly, and John thought: no, Rodney isn't that stupid, but I sure am, and they lay between the white trunks and beneath the white stars and kissed in the warm summer night until they both knew what Ronon had known, what Rodney had hoped, and what John now believed, and then they kissed some more.