Fic: Midnight Chat (Lorne/Ronon, PG)
Title: Midnight Chat
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Pairing: Lorne/Ronon
Rating: PG
Spoilers: "Doppleganger"
Genre: Hurt/comfort, angst
Summary: Lorne and Ronon chat after the events of "Doppleganger."
Author's Notes: This can be taken as friendship or pre-slash. Whatever floats your boat. It was written as a response to the word prompt challenge on ronon_lorne. I knocked it out pretty quick, so it's pretty off-the-cuff. The word I chose was "midnight."
Disclaimer: Not mine. Not making any money.
Evan Lorne sat up and attempted to contort his body into a more comfortable position. He knew his efforts were for nothing, and he knew he was going to wake up in the morning-if he ever got to sleep in the first place-with a hell of a stiff back. To be fair, the Ancients probably hadn’t intended the little nook Evan was currently stashed in as a lounge area. But from Evan’s perspective, it had all the qualities he looked for in a makeshift art studio. It was hidden from view and largely unknown to the other citizens of Atlantis. It was out of the way but close enough that he could get back the heart of the city if an emergency arose. And it was quiet, lost in the silence of a deserted section of an otherwise busy city.
He liked to head here when the stress of his job or his personal life got the better of him. It was usually the former, of course, because Evan didn’t have much time for any kind of personal life these days. In fact, it had been far longer than he cared to admit since he’d any kind of real human contact.
In any case, it wasn’t his personal life that had brought him out here tonight. It was the gnawing fear of closing his eyes and losing control of his body and mind like he had a week before. None of it was his fault. Everyone had assured him of that. But still, his mind kept reconstructing events he couldn’t remember and imagining outcomes that hadn’t happened.
Evan let out a breath as he tapped his pencil against the open sketchpad on his lap. He liked to use his sketchpad as a diary of sorts. He drew people he knew, places he saw, seminal events in his life. But he had no idea how to record the past couple of days.
“Can’t sleep again?”
Evan glanced up at the familiar voice and saw Ronon leaning against a wall outside a few feet away. For a moment, he searched his mind for a snarky reply, but he gave up, deciding he was just too worn out. “You’re up,” he said, fixing his eyes on the sketchpad.
Ronon slid into a sitting position across from Evan. “I think you’re just being stubborn,” he said. “You should get some sleep.”
Evan narrowed his eyes at Ronon. “Like I said, you’re up.”
“You pissed off that I shot you?”
“Of course not,” Evan said. “I don’t even remember it.” He winced at the thought of it, though.
“I never get to stun McKay,” Ronon said wistfully.
“Well,” Evan said, running his pencil along a blank page. “Maybe next time.” He wasn’t really drawing anything. Drawing takes concentration and purpose, and he had neither of those at the moment. Instead, he was doodling in an attempt to avoid Ronon’s gaze.
Ronon picked at a loose thread on his knee. “Sheppard got to shoot McKay. He shot me, too. It was that time when we were under the influence of that weird thing on that one planet.”
Rolling his eyes, Evan glanced up. “I know what you’re trying to do,” he said.
“What am I trying to do?”
“Reassure me that none of this is my fault.”
Ronon’s voiced softened in a way Evan didn’t often hear. “Well, it wasn’t.”
“I get that,” Evan said, shaking his head. “I get that it wasn’t my fault. And I get that no one got hurt.”
Dragging himself across the gap so that he was sitting next to Evan, Ronon said, “Then why are you sitting out here by yourself at midnight instead of sleeping like a man who has an off-world mission tomorrow?”
Evan tugged on his bottom lip. “Have you ever sleepwalked, Ronon?”
“Nope.”
“Well, I did some when I was a kid,” he said. “It was never really dramatic, and I outgrew it. But even as kid, sleepwalking for me meant that I didn’t have control. And now to have that happen while I’m here, in a position where I could do some damage…”
“You sleepwalked as a kid?”
“Lots of kids sleepwalk,” Evan said, the lack of rest adding an extra hint of crankiness to his voice. “It’s perfectly normal.”
Ronon smiled. “All right.”
“The point is,” Evan said. “I don’t like it when I’m not in control of myself.”
Placing a hand on Evan’s arm, Ronon said, “Lorne, this was a special case. Imagine how Sheppard feels. I mean, it was his face that caused all of this.”
Evan glanced down at Ronon's hand. “Yeah, I guess,” he said.
Ronon gazed at Evan for a moment. “Look, all I’m saying is it was a fluke.”
“It was humiliating.”
“Hardly anybody was there.”
Evan laughed. “My CO and the commander of the base were there."
“That’s not so bad,” Ronon said. “Sheppard was popping up in everyone’s dreams.”
Evan raised an eyebrow. “Yours?”
“Oh yeah," Ronon said, glancing away. After a pause, he added, “At least you don’t remember your nightmare.”
“That’s definitely a good thing.”
“So why Replicators?" Ronon asked. "Why’d you dream about them?”
Evan closed his sketchpad. “That is something I don’t want to talk about.”
“Fair enough,” Ronon said. He stood up and extended his hand toward Evan. “Want to grab a beer? I have some that Sheppard gave me.”
“Aren’t you gonna tell me I should head to bed?”
Ronon grinned. “I figured I’d get you drunk so you’d pass out.”
“Nice,” Evan said.
“I try.”
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Pairing: Lorne/Ronon
Rating: PG
Spoilers: "Doppleganger"
Genre: Hurt/comfort, angst
Summary: Lorne and Ronon chat after the events of "Doppleganger."
Author's Notes: This can be taken as friendship or pre-slash. Whatever floats your boat. It was written as a response to the word prompt challenge on ronon_lorne. I knocked it out pretty quick, so it's pretty off-the-cuff. The word I chose was "midnight."
Disclaimer: Not mine. Not making any money.
Evan Lorne sat up and attempted to contort his body into a more comfortable position. He knew his efforts were for nothing, and he knew he was going to wake up in the morning-if he ever got to sleep in the first place-with a hell of a stiff back. To be fair, the Ancients probably hadn’t intended the little nook Evan was currently stashed in as a lounge area. But from Evan’s perspective, it had all the qualities he looked for in a makeshift art studio. It was hidden from view and largely unknown to the other citizens of Atlantis. It was out of the way but close enough that he could get back the heart of the city if an emergency arose. And it was quiet, lost in the silence of a deserted section of an otherwise busy city.
He liked to head here when the stress of his job or his personal life got the better of him. It was usually the former, of course, because Evan didn’t have much time for any kind of personal life these days. In fact, it had been far longer than he cared to admit since he’d any kind of real human contact.
In any case, it wasn’t his personal life that had brought him out here tonight. It was the gnawing fear of closing his eyes and losing control of his body and mind like he had a week before. None of it was his fault. Everyone had assured him of that. But still, his mind kept reconstructing events he couldn’t remember and imagining outcomes that hadn’t happened.
Evan let out a breath as he tapped his pencil against the open sketchpad on his lap. He liked to use his sketchpad as a diary of sorts. He drew people he knew, places he saw, seminal events in his life. But he had no idea how to record the past couple of days.
“Can’t sleep again?”
Evan glanced up at the familiar voice and saw Ronon leaning against a wall outside a few feet away. For a moment, he searched his mind for a snarky reply, but he gave up, deciding he was just too worn out. “You’re up,” he said, fixing his eyes on the sketchpad.
Ronon slid into a sitting position across from Evan. “I think you’re just being stubborn,” he said. “You should get some sleep.”
Evan narrowed his eyes at Ronon. “Like I said, you’re up.”
“You pissed off that I shot you?”
“Of course not,” Evan said. “I don’t even remember it.” He winced at the thought of it, though.
“I never get to stun McKay,” Ronon said wistfully.
“Well,” Evan said, running his pencil along a blank page. “Maybe next time.” He wasn’t really drawing anything. Drawing takes concentration and purpose, and he had neither of those at the moment. Instead, he was doodling in an attempt to avoid Ronon’s gaze.
Ronon picked at a loose thread on his knee. “Sheppard got to shoot McKay. He shot me, too. It was that time when we were under the influence of that weird thing on that one planet.”
Rolling his eyes, Evan glanced up. “I know what you’re trying to do,” he said.
“What am I trying to do?”
“Reassure me that none of this is my fault.”
Ronon’s voiced softened in a way Evan didn’t often hear. “Well, it wasn’t.”
“I get that,” Evan said, shaking his head. “I get that it wasn’t my fault. And I get that no one got hurt.”
Dragging himself across the gap so that he was sitting next to Evan, Ronon said, “Then why are you sitting out here by yourself at midnight instead of sleeping like a man who has an off-world mission tomorrow?”
Evan tugged on his bottom lip. “Have you ever sleepwalked, Ronon?”
“Nope.”
“Well, I did some when I was a kid,” he said. “It was never really dramatic, and I outgrew it. But even as kid, sleepwalking for me meant that I didn’t have control. And now to have that happen while I’m here, in a position where I could do some damage…”
“You sleepwalked as a kid?”
“Lots of kids sleepwalk,” Evan said, the lack of rest adding an extra hint of crankiness to his voice. “It’s perfectly normal.”
Ronon smiled. “All right.”
“The point is,” Evan said. “I don’t like it when I’m not in control of myself.”
Placing a hand on Evan’s arm, Ronon said, “Lorne, this was a special case. Imagine how Sheppard feels. I mean, it was his face that caused all of this.”
Evan glanced down at Ronon's hand. “Yeah, I guess,” he said.
Ronon gazed at Evan for a moment. “Look, all I’m saying is it was a fluke.”
“It was humiliating.”
“Hardly anybody was there.”
Evan laughed. “My CO and the commander of the base were there."
“That’s not so bad,” Ronon said. “Sheppard was popping up in everyone’s dreams.”
Evan raised an eyebrow. “Yours?”
“Oh yeah," Ronon said, glancing away. After a pause, he added, “At least you don’t remember your nightmare.”
“That’s definitely a good thing.”
“So why Replicators?" Ronon asked. "Why’d you dream about them?”
Evan closed his sketchpad. “That is something I don’t want to talk about.”
“Fair enough,” Ronon said. He stood up and extended his hand toward Evan. “Want to grab a beer? I have some that Sheppard gave me.”
“Aren’t you gonna tell me I should head to bed?”
Ronon grinned. “I figured I’d get you drunk so you’d pass out.”
“Nice,” Evan said.
“I try.”