constant (sga, beckett/grodin, G)
for paisleyparadox
Peter leaning against/half sitting on a table, hands resting flat on the tables top, eyes closed, and looking exhausted.
Carson is worried. In the last few weeks since Peter’s miraculous appearance in the gate room, the buzz and excitement had died down. Everyone expected Grodin to be Grodin, as if his ordeal with the Wraith had never occurred. Apparently no one (save Ronon, but he didn’t really know Peter) thought he should have any long lasting, negative effects.
Carson knew better. Carson knew Peter.
“Can I get you something?” Carson asked quietly. Hesitant, because lately he didn’t really know how to speak to his friend.
Peter opened his eyes and smiled, but the expression was so obviously fake it made Carson feel sick.
“Have I told you lately how good it is to see your face?” Carson kept his voice soft.
Peter’s eyes sparkled with humor. “Not lately, no.”
“Well it is.” Pause. “I knew I ... well, that I missed you, of course. But I had no idea how much until ...” He trailed off, because he didn’t really know how to say what he wanted, didn’t know if Peter really needed to hear it.
But Peter straightened, walked over to him slowly, as if he he was aching and every step was a chore. He reached Carson and put both his hands on his shoulders.
“I thought about you constantly.” Peter’s voice was hoarse and shaking slightly.
Carson let his hands rest lightly on Peter’s forearms, not daring to do more. His eyes closed when Peter leaned in and touched his forehead to Carson’s.
“Constantly,” Peter repeated with a whisper.
Peter leaning against/half sitting on a table, hands resting flat on the tables top, eyes closed, and looking exhausted.
Carson is worried. In the last few weeks since Peter’s miraculous appearance in the gate room, the buzz and excitement had died down. Everyone expected Grodin to be Grodin, as if his ordeal with the Wraith had never occurred. Apparently no one (save Ronon, but he didn’t really know Peter) thought he should have any long lasting, negative effects.
Carson knew better. Carson knew Peter.
“Can I get you something?” Carson asked quietly. Hesitant, because lately he didn’t really know how to speak to his friend.
Peter opened his eyes and smiled, but the expression was so obviously fake it made Carson feel sick.
“Have I told you lately how good it is to see your face?” Carson kept his voice soft.
Peter’s eyes sparkled with humor. “Not lately, no.”
“Well it is.” Pause. “I knew I ... well, that I missed you, of course. But I had no idea how much until ...” He trailed off, because he didn’t really know how to say what he wanted, didn’t know if Peter really needed to hear it.
But Peter straightened, walked over to him slowly, as if he he was aching and every step was a chore. He reached Carson and put both his hands on his shoulders.
“I thought about you constantly.” Peter’s voice was hoarse and shaking slightly.
Carson let his hands rest lightly on Peter’s forearms, not daring to do more. His eyes closed when Peter leaned in and touched his forehead to Carson’s.
“Constantly,” Peter repeated with a whisper.