Fic: I Still Can't Turn Away; John/Connor
I Still Can’t Turn Away
Being Connor Sheppard-Davids
Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis or any of its characters or plots. I mean no infringement, this is for personal benefit only.
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: John/Connor
Word count: 1,227
Rating: PG-17
Summary: “Today I’m gonna be Evil Husband and make you go to the mainland and watch me surf.” “How far away would you have to be so that it looks like I’m watching you while I’m really asleep?”
Prompt: Write 100 words or more about one or more Stargate characters doing something in their spare time.
Author’s Notes:
- For stargateland
*****
“So,” John says. Connor doesn’t even move from his spot on John’s lap. He’s holding his tea close and John can feel the heat from it through his shirt. His head is tucked into John’s neck, and he’s doing that thing where John knows if he lets him, Connor will be asleep in a few minutes. “Connor.”
“M’sleeping.”
“You’re awake and about to spill hot tea on both of us.”
“Huh?” Connor moves a little and looks at his cup. “Oh.” He takes a long sip of it, enough that there’s a little over half left, before he lays his head back down.
“It’s Sunday,” John nudges. “Let’s do something.”
“I told you,” Connor mumbles. “I’ll sleep while you have your way with me. It’s a win-win.”
“One day I’m really going to take you up on that.”
“Today?”
John laughs and runs a hand through Connor’s hair. “Nope. Today I’m gonna be Evil Husband and make you go to the mainland and watch me surf.”
“How far away would you have to be so that it looks like I’m watching you while I’m really asleep?”
“Really far,” John insists. “Miles.”
“There better be pudding.”
“Lots of pudding,” John promises.
Connor sighs. “Someday you will lose your good looks and charm.”
“Aw, so you won’t still love me if I’m ugly.”
“I’ll still love you,” Connor says. “But you’ll be able to talk me into less.”
John laughs loudly. “I’ll be sure to milk it for all it’s worth while I’ve still got it.”
-0-
It’s a perfect day on the mainland, with great swells for surfing. Connor zips up John’s wetsuit as John heads out. Before diving in with his board he turns back to glance at Connor. Connor’s laying under a large umbrella, shading him from the sun. Contrary to his earlier words, he’s awake and watching John. He waves a little when John looks back at him. John grins and waves back before heading into the water.
John surfs until the sun begins to set. He’s a little tired, and a little sore, but he feels great. He rides one last wave back into shore.
Connor’s reading when he gets there, but he sets his book aside for John. John stands over him, dripping sea water all over his clothes. Connor makes a face and rolls his eyes. He stands up and John eyes him, making sure he’s not sunburned despite the umbrella and the copious amounts of sunscreen.
“Turn around,” Connor orders.
John turns, and Connor slowly unzips the suit, his hand trailing down John’s back, touching skin. He shivers a little as Connor gently eases him out of the wetsuit, tugging it down off of his arms and pulling at the legs. John’s swim trunks are hanging low on his body and Connor’s hand touches the top of them as John steps out of his suit. When he turns around Connor has a towel in his hand and John rubs at his hair, so it’s not dripping everywhere.
Connor reaches a hand out and touches John’s dog tags, once, and then drops his hand. He smiles up at John. “Dinner?”
John feels heat burn in his gut as he swallows thickly. “Yeah. Then dessert.”
Connor presses a kiss to John’s lips. He makes a face when he pulls back. “Salty.”
“Shower,” John says. “And then dinner.”
They grab all of Connor’s stuff and head back for the jumper. Connor flies them back to the City while John changes in the back.
When they arrive, people are milling about, but there’s nothing to signify that anything had happened while they’d been gone. They head back to their quarters and John hangs his wetsuit out on the balcony to dry. He offers his best pleading look to Connor, who rolls his eyes but follows John into the bathroom.
The shower is shorter than John would have liked, and really, he wanted nothing more than to fall on his knees and make Connor scream his name, but Connor had resolutely pushed him away with a promised, “Later.”
Dinner is as quick as John can make it, choking down food while Connor eyes him suspiciously while simultaneously looking as though John’s lost it. He touches Connor’s foot under the table and when Connor looks up with a blush, John thinks maybe he has.
“I love you,” John says right there, in the middle of the mess hall, with people everywhere.
Connor smiles at him, his expression soft. “Tá grá agam duit,” he answers quietly. “Eat your green beans.”
John grins and digs into his vegetables.
It’s on the way back to their quarters, when Connor’s waylaid by Johns. John is a little jealous of the silent conversation they seem to have before Connor turns to John, laying a hand on his arm, and telling him he’ll meet him back at their place. John itches to just drag Connor with him anyway, but he nods and lets Connor leave with Eric.
Then he waits.
After an hour, he calls Chuck, who is on duty despite it being Sunday. Chuck gets Mondays instead. . “Yes, sir?”
“Can you please track down my husband?” John requests.
“Misplaced him again, eh, sir?” Chuck says with humor.
“You know how he wanders.”
There’s a beat of silence, and then. “Ah, sir?”
John pinches the bridge of his nose. “Not showing up?”
“Atlantis really loves him, Colonel.”
“Can you track down Johns, then?”
“Sure thing… got him. He’s in the East Wing, level 34, corridor B, room 19.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem, sir.”
John sticks his feet back into his shoes and grabs Connor’s sweatshirt before leaving. It’s a short trip to room nineteen and John’s there in no time. It’s an unmarked room, used for get-togethers and whatever else they might need a room for. When he steps inside, John finds a group of people, including Johns and Connor. Connor looks up in surprise.
John raises an eyebrow and taps his watch.
Connor looks sheepish as he looks down at his own watch. He murmurs something to the group and makes his leave. “Sorry,” he says, slipping on the sweatshirt that John holds out for him.
“No problem,” John says. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. They got a new game in on the Daedalus and they wanted to show it to me.”
John slips an arm around Connor’s waist as they walk back to the transporters. “Anything good?”
“I don’t think you’d like it, fear céile.” [husband]
“Okay,” John shrugs. “And please tell Atlantis to stop hiding you.” They step into the transporter and it’s off without a thought.
“I’ll talk to her again,” Connor promises. “Sorry.”
“I feel like I should get you one of those tracking collars they put on animals.”
“I do have a subcutaneous locator beacon,” Connor says. “You can track me through that.”
John makes a noise. “Still.”
Connor nods and they step out onto their floor. As soon as their door closes behind them, John pulls Connor to them. He presses him up against the wall and kisses him soundly. “Parcheesi time?” Connor grins.
John unbuckles Connor’s pants. “If that’s what you want to call this,” John winks. “I prefer sexy times.”
He’s on his knees before Connor can answer him. “That works, too,” Connor murmurs, resting his hand on John’s head. “That works, too.”
-0-