snippet: the season
the season
It was winter on PX2-349, the wind sharp and freezing and the horizon deepening purple even though it had to be the middle of the day. Rodney shivered and tried, unsuccessfully, to push his hands deeper into the pockets of his padded coat. Teyla had warned them, but it was still weird to go straight from the lazy warmth of an Atlantis summer to this, ice underfoot and the air so cold it hurt to breathe. He huffed. God only knew what it was doing to his lungs. And if he picked up pneumonia, all because these people might or might not have some plant that they might or might not trade to Atlantis to help out the Athosian harvest -
"Rodney," Teyla called, sounding oddly far away; Rodney looked up from where he'd been picking his way carefully over ice and realised that he couldn't see her, or Ronon, or John. He could hear the shuffle of their footsteps up ahead, but their figures had merged completely into the black horizon.
"Hey, wait up," he yelled, scrambling to catch up, skidding on ice; he stumbled and then John caught him at the elbows, steadied him. He couldn't see John's face in the shadow or feel the warmth of his hands through his gloves and the thick sleeves of Rodney's own coat, but his grip felt solid, very close.
"Keep up, McKay," he said, still holding onto Rodney's sleeve, and Rodney grumbled something about ice and godforsaken planets and why anyway, flooded with relief and hoping that John wouldn't let go again. He didn't, and they walked steadily along the uphill road, between patches of rough grass and rocks, hearing the fluttering of wings and odd whines and hooting noises from the black thickets through which the rough road had been cut.
"Almost there," Teyla said. They took a steep right turn, Rodney's hand colliding accidentally with John's as John steered him round the corner, and then they saw a blaze of lamps. The settlement, thank God. A woman was walking up the road towards them, a lamp held very carefully between her cupped hands, followed by a bunch of others.
"Finally," Rodney said and John's fingers curled unexpectedly around his, sending a jolt of pure, shocking heat to his stomach. The woman smiled and opened the gate, just at the moment that John's thumb found his pulse, rubbed lightly there, and light and the sound of drums and the smell of food spilt out all around them.
"Solstice?" Ronon said, sounding bewildered, and Teyla pushed back her hood and smiled at him.
"Yes, I had hoped we would be on time."
"Solstice," Rodney repeated stupidly, still dazed and John grinned at him, shifted his grip and didn't let go.
"Yup," he agreed, "finally," and Rodney thought, for no reason at all, even though it was the middle of summer in Atlantis, yes and irrationally, mistletoe, and found himself reaching up to touch John's mouth with his own.
It was winter on PX2-349, the wind sharp and freezing and the horizon deepening purple even though it had to be the middle of the day. Rodney shivered and tried, unsuccessfully, to push his hands deeper into the pockets of his padded coat. Teyla had warned them, but it was still weird to go straight from the lazy warmth of an Atlantis summer to this, ice underfoot and the air so cold it hurt to breathe. He huffed. God only knew what it was doing to his lungs. And if he picked up pneumonia, all because these people might or might not have some plant that they might or might not trade to Atlantis to help out the Athosian harvest -
"Rodney," Teyla called, sounding oddly far away; Rodney looked up from where he'd been picking his way carefully over ice and realised that he couldn't see her, or Ronon, or John. He could hear the shuffle of their footsteps up ahead, but their figures had merged completely into the black horizon.
"Hey, wait up," he yelled, scrambling to catch up, skidding on ice; he stumbled and then John caught him at the elbows, steadied him. He couldn't see John's face in the shadow or feel the warmth of his hands through his gloves and the thick sleeves of Rodney's own coat, but his grip felt solid, very close.
"Keep up, McKay," he said, still holding onto Rodney's sleeve, and Rodney grumbled something about ice and godforsaken planets and why anyway, flooded with relief and hoping that John wouldn't let go again. He didn't, and they walked steadily along the uphill road, between patches of rough grass and rocks, hearing the fluttering of wings and odd whines and hooting noises from the black thickets through which the rough road had been cut.
"Almost there," Teyla said. They took a steep right turn, Rodney's hand colliding accidentally with John's as John steered him round the corner, and then they saw a blaze of lamps. The settlement, thank God. A woman was walking up the road towards them, a lamp held very carefully between her cupped hands, followed by a bunch of others.
"Finally," Rodney said and John's fingers curled unexpectedly around his, sending a jolt of pure, shocking heat to his stomach. The woman smiled and opened the gate, just at the moment that John's thumb found his pulse, rubbed lightly there, and light and the sound of drums and the smell of food spilt out all around them.
"Solstice?" Ronon said, sounding bewildered, and Teyla pushed back her hood and smiled at him.
"Yes, I had hoped we would be on time."
"Solstice," Rodney repeated stupidly, still dazed and John grinned at him, shifted his grip and didn't let go.
"Yup," he agreed, "finally," and Rodney thought, for no reason at all, even though it was the middle of summer in Atlantis, yes and irrationally, mistletoe, and found himself reaching up to touch John's mouth with his own.