Fic: A Good Morning
Title: A Good Morning
Author: the_scary_kitty
Episode: 2.12 - “Epiphany”
Rating: PG-13
Paring: Sparky (well, duh!)
Summary: It was morning in Atlantis. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Beta: None. All mistakes are mine. Mock me at will. ;)
Disclaimer: Stargate doesn’t belong to me. If it did, Elizabeth and Carson would never have died, and I would’ve figured out a cool way to bring back Ford.
Author’s Notes: My final entry for
notjustclosets. Originally, this was intended as a two-scene fic. But while I was finishing it up, another author posted a fic for the thon that was very similar to the first scene of my fic. Both dismayed and amused by the coincidence, I decided it would be best to drop the earlier scene to avoid any raised eyebrows at the similarities between the two stories.
***
The sound of the ocean, muted by distance, echoed in his ears. A warm breeze that carried the tang of salt air tickled his nose, which had grown unused to the scent. A cocoon of soft sheets and softer limbs cradled him, comforted him.
No matter where John was, whether on Earth, in Atlantis, or on any of the worlds he’d visited in the past year and a half, he’d always been attuned to waking up at dawn. Slowly, he opened his eyes, wincing a little at the grey light that was even now beginning to shift to gold. A moment later, the city picked up on his discomfort and tinted the windows slightly.
He’d been back in the city of Atlantis for less than twenty-four hours, but it felt like he was there for the first time all over again. It had been a long six months away from home.
He mulled over that thought. Home.
Elizabeth and the rest of his team hadn’t wanted to let him out of their sight until Carson had given him a clean bill of health. At that point, Rodney had left for his quarters, loudly complaining about needing a shower after all the hiking to and from the jumper he’d had to do, which would be followed by a trip to the mess hall for what he termed “a well-earned dinner.” With a little more coaxing, Ronon and Teyla had also headed off to rest. But one look into Elizabeth’s eyes had told John that he wasn’t going to be able to shake her that easily. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure he wanted to.
He was just as uncertain as to which of them had been more surprised when she’d turned up outside the door to his quarters, an hour after they’d all left the infirmary and gone their separate ways. One look into her eyes had told him that his normally flippant attitude wouldn’t get him out of talking with her. Yet the questions and the accusations that he didn’t want to admit he feared hadn’t come. Instead, she’d apologized, again, for not figuring it out, for not getting to him sooner.
He hadn’t liked how she took it so personally. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, really.
He’d kissed her once, to stop her from beating herself up over it further, to remind her that she hadn’t given up, she had come for him, and that was all he needed to know.
Then she’d kissed him, stealing the breath from his lungs as he stole the breath from hers.
It didn’t take long for kisses to become caresses, for clothes to be shed between fits of ticklish giggles, and moans that gave voice to passion that had been hidden for the sake of public propriety.
To hell with propriety. He was home. And she wanted him. Elizabeth Weir actually wanted him.
Finally, he’d surrendered to her embrace and let her lead him to bed.
The light in his quarters grew as the sun itself finally appeared over the horizon, setting the surface of the ocean surrounding the city ablaze.
Elizabeth shifted a little in his arms, sighing softly. His own body hummed in response to hers rubbing up against him. Even asleep, even in dreams, the woman could keep him on his toes. In more ways than one.
He snuggled a little closer to Elizabeth, curling around her slender limbs, smiling as she opened her eyes and looked up at him. Not a dream, this time. He was home, in this city a galaxy away from the planet of his birth, with the woman who had accepted him for who and what he was, faults and all, and had come to mean far more to him than he could have ever imagined. Ascending to a higher plane of existence would be a let down after this.
It was morning in Atlantis. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.