Fic: The Dreams That You Dare to Dream (Or, But What Would the Children Look Like?)
words: ~1600
pairings: John/Rodney, Teyla/Ronon
ratings/warnings: I just don't know where to start. it's now unicorn/rainbow kidfic.
a/n: I don't wanna talk about it.
this won't make much sense without reading this first. honestly, it might not make much sense anyway, but, you know.
The Dreams That You Dare to Dream
It doesn't rain often in the magical forest. Soft mist, picturesque fog, a gentle spring shower, sure; but it doesn't rain, doesn't pour down in sheets like this, more than once or twice a year.
Rodney refuses to come out from the limited shelter of the trees, but John's having the time of his life.
"Cool, puddles," John says, clearly overjoyed, and shimmers from one patch of waterlogged ground to another, skipping through parts of the meadow that he usually can't get to.
Rodney refuses to be charmed. Even when John jumps into the air and disperses into broad sheens of colour that span the air, a curtain of shifting light that changes with every drop of water. Even then, Rodney refuses to be charmed.
"Rodney, seriously, you should get out here," John calls, going a pleased pink.
"Uh, maybe those of us who aren't composed of water vapour will stay under shelter, thanks."
John shrugs in that way he has of shrugging and goes back to skipping through the pools of rainwater.
Rodney watches from the trees, and even though he isn't charmed, he can't quite bring himself to look away, either.
The rain stops eventually, at which point John skitters up to the edge of the trees and runs his bow over Rodney's back.
"You're still here," he says, pleased.
Rodney grumbles, but rubs his neck against John's green affectionately. "Well, you looked like such a big kid out there, playing in the water. I wasn't going to leave you unsupervised."
For some reason, John doesn't take up the thread of the banter; he just rests, tired and content, against Rodney's white flank.
-
That night, as they lie together under the clear, starry sky, John speaks just as Rodney's about to fall asleep.
"Hey, Rodney, you awake?"
Rodney opens his eyes blearily and shakes his mane so that it's no longer obscuring his vision. He hates being woken up, but can't stay mad for long; John is always at his prettiest when constituted by moonlight.
"I am now," he says, and trails his horn lightly down John's bow.
There's a long pause, and Rodney almost falls back to sleep while he waits for John to say what he has to say; feels himself drowsing, even, his eyelids falling heavily closed. When John does speak, it startles Rodney awake once more.
"I've been thinking, lately," John says. His turquoise has shaded to blue in that way it does when he's embarrassed.
"Thinking about what?" Rodney asks, wondering if he missed a part of the conversation with his little nap.
Apparently he didn't, because John winds closer around him and sighs. "Having little puddlejumpers of our own," he confides, his voice quiet. "I keep thinking about how awesome our children would be."
Rodney feels slightly confused. "But, um . . . " he begins.
"Shhhh, it's okay. It'll happen when it happens." With that, John runs a light wisp of orange over Rodney's nose and disperses slightly as he goes to sleep.
-
"The rainbow coalition."
"Yeah," John replies, stretching his short-waves in the early light of dawn. "It's our annual convention."
"You didn't go last year," Rodney points out. John shimmers noncommittally.
"They forgot to hold it last year," he says. "The rainbows in charge are kind of flighty."
"Right," Rodney says. "Uh, so, I should go with you?"
-
The Very-Nearly-Annual Rainbow Coalition is a bit dizzying; to Rodney, it's mostly a giant mass of rainbow-colours hovering over a series of waterfalls.
"We hold it here so that we're not dependent on the weather," John explains. "Oh, hey, I know that guy. Iris!"
Iris differentiates himself from the other rainbows and comes over to the cliff where Rodney's standing and John's hovering. Rodney is secretly relieved to find that he can tell John apart from other rainbows; it had been a concern.
"John! How's it going?"
"Y'know."
Iris shimmers his agreement. "Same old John, huh?"
"Not quite the same," John says. "This is Rodney." Rodney feels silly, but does the little hop-and-double-hoof-strike greeting that is common among unicorns. Iris wisps back at him.
"What about you?" John asks.
"I didn't tell you? I got married! We're expecting our first."
"You two aren't even showing," John notes. Rodney blinks.
"We're not due for a while. What about you guys? Any kids?"
Rodney opens his mouth to protest the very concept, but John speaks first.
"Nah. We've been talking about it, though."
"Yeah, about that - " Rodney says, but then the keynote speaker addresses the crowd, and he's forced to listen politely.
Later, after attending the various panel discussions ("Getting the Most Out of Your Indigo," "Circular Logic: Perspective and the Rainbow Arc," and "Doing it Sun-Doggy Style: A Queer Feminist Perspective") Rodney gets John alone again.
"Listen, we have to talk about this kids thing. I don't know how you think . . ."
John appears to be listening to him, but then something behind Rodney attracts his attention and he arcs higher in the air to see over Rodney's shoulder.
"Oh, shit, they're starting the dance party," are the words that John says, and Rodney wonders who the fuck he married here, anyway. "Rodney, I promise we'll talk about this, I do, but . . . " His green is blurring into his yellow in consternation.
Rodney sighs. "Go, dance. We'll talk at home."
-
With one thing and another, though, they don't talk about it when they get back to the riverbank. John doesn't bring it up again, and Rodney's almost forgotten it by the next time they go to the seaside.
Ronon and John are playing together over the waves while Teyla and Rodney talk by the shore.
"So Sparkles wants me back on virgin-duty," Rodney sighs. "I don't know what his problem is, but I have no intention of fulfilling his ridiculous management fantasies. I'm clearly wasted on virgins."
"Clearly," Teyla agrees.
A sudden breeze blows by, ruffling Rodney's mane.
"Hey, Teyla!" a young voice says.
Teyla smiles in that bizarre dolphin-way that she has, showing her round teeth. "Hello, Zephyr. Rodney, this is Ronon's son."
"Pleased to meet you," Rodney says automatically.
"Hi! Can I go play with Dad and the rainbow?" this last directed at Teyla.
"Of course," Teyla replies patiently.
Zephyr ripples across the water to where Ronon and John are still skipping through the waves.
"Uh," Rodney says, after a pause. "Um. So, is he . . . yours?"
Teyla laughs. "Of course not! How could he be mine? It's slightly ridiculous."
Rodney stamps a hoof in enthusiastic agreement. "That's what I've been saying!"
"Zephyr is Ronon's son from a previous relationship," Teyla says, and Rodney nods. "Perhaps Ronon and I will have children one day, but for now we're still getting to know one another," Teyla continues firmly.
Rodney hangs his head and takes a breath. "Okay, Teyla, explain something to me."
"Of course," she agrees.
"How exactly . . . " At just that moment, John comes somersaulting through the water to splash at Rodney and Teyla.
"Hey, Rodney, you should come in the water with us!" John says.
Rodney considers staying and finishing his conversation with Teyla. Then he considers cantering majestically along the shore, through the foam-capped waves, with John shimmering at his side and the setting sun behind them.
"Oh, fine," Rodney agrees, and commences to frolic (under protest).
-
Later, as the last rays of the sun slip from the sky, Teyla noses at Rodney's knee.
"I know what you were about to ask, before," she says.
"Oh?"
"John has confided in me about his desire for children."
"Oh."
Teyla rubs her face on his coat in that way that's supposed to be soothing for dolphins but that mostly gets Rodney's chest wet. "You two are ready. You would be good parents."
Rodney searches for the right words.
"Teyla," he says, finally, his voice squeaking. "I think John and I have - " He clears his throat; might as well say it right out. "I think John and I have, uh, fertility problems," he pronounces delicately.
Teyla nods sympathetically.
"Keep trying," she advises. "You may yet be surprised."
"I'd be pretty surprised," Rodney mutters.
-
Rodney does keep trying, though, even though he's not quite sure which actions count as "trying." The thing is, he pretty much loves John like crazy, so it's not like it's a hardship. And besides, he sometimes thinks that he'd like to be a dad.
Then, one morning, John nudges Rodney awake with a soft press of violet to Rodney's neck.
"Rodney," he intones. "Wake up. Someone wants to meet you."
Rodney opens his eyes. There, in the grass, is a tiny, multicoloured . . . butterfly.
"This is Francine," John says, trailing his yellow carefully over the little butterfly. "I think she's got my orange, what do you think?"
Rodney stares stupidly at the butterfly. Then he stares at John.
John's brightness fades. "I thought you'd be more excited," he says, subdued. "Our first kid and all."
"No, no," Rodney says. "I'm excited. I'm just, uh. Is she mine?"
John smacks Rodney's head with his green. "What kind of a dumbass question is that?"
"You're right," Rodney says. "I'm sorry." Sighing, he extends one leg for the little butterfly to perch on. "Hi, Francine."
Francine flutters at him; she does sort of have John's orange.
Rodney figures he'll just have to love her either way.
-
end note: I blame this sequel on eruthros, who liked the bit about the rainbow coalition, and especially on girlnamedpixley, who gave me the KIDFIC idea. I AM STOPPING NOW I PROMISE.
-
eta: now with an awesome family portrait by gweneiriol! Check it out! The butterfly TOTALLY has John's orange, it's true you guys.
-
-
back to main fic page
pairings: John/Rodney, Teyla/Ronon
ratings/warnings: I just don't know where to start. it's now unicorn/rainbow kidfic.
a/n: I don't wanna talk about it.
this won't make much sense without reading this first. honestly, it might not make much sense anyway, but, you know.
The Dreams That You Dare to Dream
It doesn't rain often in the magical forest. Soft mist, picturesque fog, a gentle spring shower, sure; but it doesn't rain, doesn't pour down in sheets like this, more than once or twice a year.
Rodney refuses to come out from the limited shelter of the trees, but John's having the time of his life.
"Cool, puddles," John says, clearly overjoyed, and shimmers from one patch of waterlogged ground to another, skipping through parts of the meadow that he usually can't get to.
Rodney refuses to be charmed. Even when John jumps into the air and disperses into broad sheens of colour that span the air, a curtain of shifting light that changes with every drop of water. Even then, Rodney refuses to be charmed.
"Rodney, seriously, you should get out here," John calls, going a pleased pink.
"Uh, maybe those of us who aren't composed of water vapour will stay under shelter, thanks."
John shrugs in that way he has of shrugging and goes back to skipping through the pools of rainwater.
Rodney watches from the trees, and even though he isn't charmed, he can't quite bring himself to look away, either.
The rain stops eventually, at which point John skitters up to the edge of the trees and runs his bow over Rodney's back.
"You're still here," he says, pleased.
Rodney grumbles, but rubs his neck against John's green affectionately. "Well, you looked like such a big kid out there, playing in the water. I wasn't going to leave you unsupervised."
For some reason, John doesn't take up the thread of the banter; he just rests, tired and content, against Rodney's white flank.
-
That night, as they lie together under the clear, starry sky, John speaks just as Rodney's about to fall asleep.
"Hey, Rodney, you awake?"
Rodney opens his eyes blearily and shakes his mane so that it's no longer obscuring his vision. He hates being woken up, but can't stay mad for long; John is always at his prettiest when constituted by moonlight.
"I am now," he says, and trails his horn lightly down John's bow.
There's a long pause, and Rodney almost falls back to sleep while he waits for John to say what he has to say; feels himself drowsing, even, his eyelids falling heavily closed. When John does speak, it startles Rodney awake once more.
"I've been thinking, lately," John says. His turquoise has shaded to blue in that way it does when he's embarrassed.
"Thinking about what?" Rodney asks, wondering if he missed a part of the conversation with his little nap.
Apparently he didn't, because John winds closer around him and sighs. "Having little puddlejumpers of our own," he confides, his voice quiet. "I keep thinking about how awesome our children would be."
Rodney feels slightly confused. "But, um . . . " he begins.
"Shhhh, it's okay. It'll happen when it happens." With that, John runs a light wisp of orange over Rodney's nose and disperses slightly as he goes to sleep.
-
"The rainbow coalition."
"Yeah," John replies, stretching his short-waves in the early light of dawn. "It's our annual convention."
"You didn't go last year," Rodney points out. John shimmers noncommittally.
"They forgot to hold it last year," he says. "The rainbows in charge are kind of flighty."
"Right," Rodney says. "Uh, so, I should go with you?"
-
The Very-Nearly-Annual Rainbow Coalition is a bit dizzying; to Rodney, it's mostly a giant mass of rainbow-colours hovering over a series of waterfalls.
"We hold it here so that we're not dependent on the weather," John explains. "Oh, hey, I know that guy. Iris!"
Iris differentiates himself from the other rainbows and comes over to the cliff where Rodney's standing and John's hovering. Rodney is secretly relieved to find that he can tell John apart from other rainbows; it had been a concern.
"John! How's it going?"
"Y'know."
Iris shimmers his agreement. "Same old John, huh?"
"Not quite the same," John says. "This is Rodney." Rodney feels silly, but does the little hop-and-double-hoof-strike greeting that is common among unicorns. Iris wisps back at him.
"What about you?" John asks.
"I didn't tell you? I got married! We're expecting our first."
"You two aren't even showing," John notes. Rodney blinks.
"We're not due for a while. What about you guys? Any kids?"
Rodney opens his mouth to protest the very concept, but John speaks first.
"Nah. We've been talking about it, though."
"Yeah, about that - " Rodney says, but then the keynote speaker addresses the crowd, and he's forced to listen politely.
Later, after attending the various panel discussions ("Getting the Most Out of Your Indigo," "Circular Logic: Perspective and the Rainbow Arc," and "Doing it Sun-Doggy Style: A Queer Feminist Perspective") Rodney gets John alone again.
"Listen, we have to talk about this kids thing. I don't know how you think . . ."
John appears to be listening to him, but then something behind Rodney attracts his attention and he arcs higher in the air to see over Rodney's shoulder.
"Oh, shit, they're starting the dance party," are the words that John says, and Rodney wonders who the fuck he married here, anyway. "Rodney, I promise we'll talk about this, I do, but . . . " His green is blurring into his yellow in consternation.
Rodney sighs. "Go, dance. We'll talk at home."
-
With one thing and another, though, they don't talk about it when they get back to the riverbank. John doesn't bring it up again, and Rodney's almost forgotten it by the next time they go to the seaside.
Ronon and John are playing together over the waves while Teyla and Rodney talk by the shore.
"So Sparkles wants me back on virgin-duty," Rodney sighs. "I don't know what his problem is, but I have no intention of fulfilling his ridiculous management fantasies. I'm clearly wasted on virgins."
"Clearly," Teyla agrees.
A sudden breeze blows by, ruffling Rodney's mane.
"Hey, Teyla!" a young voice says.
Teyla smiles in that bizarre dolphin-way that she has, showing her round teeth. "Hello, Zephyr. Rodney, this is Ronon's son."
"Pleased to meet you," Rodney says automatically.
"Hi! Can I go play with Dad and the rainbow?" this last directed at Teyla.
"Of course," Teyla replies patiently.
Zephyr ripples across the water to where Ronon and John are still skipping through the waves.
"Uh," Rodney says, after a pause. "Um. So, is he . . . yours?"
Teyla laughs. "Of course not! How could he be mine? It's slightly ridiculous."
Rodney stamps a hoof in enthusiastic agreement. "That's what I've been saying!"
"Zephyr is Ronon's son from a previous relationship," Teyla says, and Rodney nods. "Perhaps Ronon and I will have children one day, but for now we're still getting to know one another," Teyla continues firmly.
Rodney hangs his head and takes a breath. "Okay, Teyla, explain something to me."
"Of course," she agrees.
"How exactly . . . " At just that moment, John comes somersaulting through the water to splash at Rodney and Teyla.
"Hey, Rodney, you should come in the water with us!" John says.
Rodney considers staying and finishing his conversation with Teyla. Then he considers cantering majestically along the shore, through the foam-capped waves, with John shimmering at his side and the setting sun behind them.
"Oh, fine," Rodney agrees, and commences to frolic (under protest).
-
Later, as the last rays of the sun slip from the sky, Teyla noses at Rodney's knee.
"I know what you were about to ask, before," she says.
"Oh?"
"John has confided in me about his desire for children."
"Oh."
Teyla rubs her face on his coat in that way that's supposed to be soothing for dolphins but that mostly gets Rodney's chest wet. "You two are ready. You would be good parents."
Rodney searches for the right words.
"Teyla," he says, finally, his voice squeaking. "I think John and I have - " He clears his throat; might as well say it right out. "I think John and I have, uh, fertility problems," he pronounces delicately.
Teyla nods sympathetically.
"Keep trying," she advises. "You may yet be surprised."
"I'd be pretty surprised," Rodney mutters.
-
Rodney does keep trying, though, even though he's not quite sure which actions count as "trying." The thing is, he pretty much loves John like crazy, so it's not like it's a hardship. And besides, he sometimes thinks that he'd like to be a dad.
Then, one morning, John nudges Rodney awake with a soft press of violet to Rodney's neck.
"Rodney," he intones. "Wake up. Someone wants to meet you."
Rodney opens his eyes. There, in the grass, is a tiny, multicoloured . . . butterfly.
"This is Francine," John says, trailing his yellow carefully over the little butterfly. "I think she's got my orange, what do you think?"
Rodney stares stupidly at the butterfly. Then he stares at John.
John's brightness fades. "I thought you'd be more excited," he says, subdued. "Our first kid and all."
"No, no," Rodney says. "I'm excited. I'm just, uh. Is she mine?"
John smacks Rodney's head with his green. "What kind of a dumbass question is that?"
"You're right," Rodney says. "I'm sorry." Sighing, he extends one leg for the little butterfly to perch on. "Hi, Francine."
Francine flutters at him; she does sort of have John's orange.
Rodney figures he'll just have to love her either way.
-
end note: I blame this sequel on eruthros, who liked the bit about the rainbow coalition, and especially on girlnamedpixley, who gave me the KIDFIC idea. I AM STOPPING NOW I PROMISE.
-
eta: now with an awesome family portrait by gweneiriol! Check it out! The butterfly TOTALLY has John's orange, it's true you guys.
-
-
back to main fic page