new SGA Fic: Scuttlebutt (1/1)
Written for Rononficathon, which is due *glances at watch* today....
Author: Alasse
Written for: BiPagan
Prompt: Ronon and Elizabeth secret relationship
Characters/Pairing: Ronon, Elizabeth (obviously), Chuck, and Radek.
Rating: PG13, b/c Ronon has been picking up phrases from Sheppard *shakes head*
Author’s note: I blame Chuck Campbell for eating my brain in London, but his character sort of stole the show. Hope you don’t mind too much! This had no official beta b/c wanted to post before the deadline, and would have been two hours overdue if that hadn’t been extended! Hugs to theyllek and katstales for reading my pasting.
Ronon padded softly down the corridor toward Elizabeth Weir’s office. Despite his size, he could move quietly when he wanted to. No one in the control room would hear him. He slipped through the usually open doorway of the room where the leader of Atlantis was working late, as usual.
The door swished shut behind him.
No one heard him. However he had not counted on bored Canadian technicians.
Chuck leaned back in his chair, stretching to crack his aching back. As he dangled his head backwards, he noticed the door to Weir’s office was closed. He sat up abruptly, cracking his neck loudly in the process.
“Would you stop that,” an irritated voice came from the chair to his right. Dr. Radek Zelenka scowled at him, peering over the top of the glasses that were precariously perched halfway down his nose.
“Stop what?”
“The cracking of the bones,” Zelenka waved a hand in his direction and returned to tapping furiously at his computer tablet. “Is very annoying.”
“Sorry,” Chuck emphasized the first syllable, rolling his eyes. “They’re at it again,” he then said quietly.
“Who is at what?” A sputter of Czech followed the question and the scientist sprang from his seat, scooting over to stare at the long range sensor board.
“Ronon and Weir. Is something coming?” Chuck squinted at what he could see of the board over Zelenka’s shoulder.
“Yes. No. Maybe.” Zelenka took off his glasses for a closer look at the board, and then turned around to stare at Chuck. “Ronon? What are you talking about?”
“Don’t you notice how often he comes to ‘meet’ with her late at night? And then closes the door. Weir’s door is never closed otherwise.”
Radek stared at him a moment longer, then shook his head and turned back to the board muttering in Czech. Chuck could have sworn he heard the word ‘Canadian’ mixed in.
Pushing out of his chair carefully to avoid the extended shelf of the console, Chuck joined the scientist at the board. “Is that it?” he asked, pointing to a faint green blip on the outer edges of the screen.
“Yes,” Zelenka replied, “whatever ‘it’ is.”
“Great,” Chuck said enthusiastically. The week had been quiet. Way too quiet. No wraith, no replicators, no Genii, just people trading fruits and grains, and long still nights with nothing better to do than to speculate about his lovely boss and Colonel Sheppard’s dreadlocked warrior.
He bounced back to the console and tapped the intercom. “Dr Weir,” he said, voice booming over the loudspeaker. “Please report to the control room immediately.” He cocked his head, watching for the office door to open.
“Chuck,” Radek’s voice fairly squeaked behind him. “What are you doing?”
“We have an unknown entity approaching,” Chuck replied, rolling his eyes in the direction of the Czech. “Dr. Weir must be notified.”
“But we do not know what it is yet!”
“Yes. Hence the unknown.” Chuck sighed, realizing he’d looked away from Weir’s office. He turned back around and was met with a face full of brown sweater.
“What is what?” Asked Ronon’s gruff voice. Chuck jumped back with a startled gulp.
“Dr. Zelenka? You have something to report?” Elizabeth Weir stood a few feet behind the warrior. Her face was flushed and she was patting down her hair with one hand, while tugging lightly at her red shirt with the other.
“Um no, not really,” Zelenka stammered, pushing up his glasses. ‘We have a blip.”
“A blip?” Ronon folded his arms, and glanced over his shoulder at Weir, eyebrows raised.
“A blip on the long range sensors,” Zelenka explained. “But it’s too soon to tell if it is anything important. It could just be an asteroid or comet. The technician’s summons was premature.” He glared at Chuck.
“You can say that again,” Ronon muttered under his breath.
Elizabeth cleared her throat loudly. “Keep an eye on the ‘blip’ please. I’ll send Colonel Sheppard’s team in a jumper to check it out in the morning if it looks significant by then.”
“Well if no one needs me,” Ronon looked pointedly at Chuck and flexed his biceps. “I’ll be in the gym.” He climbed the stairs, pausing as he passed Elizabeth, who cleared her throat again.
“I’m going to go to the mess to get some coffee,” Weir announced brightly. “Would either of you gentlemen like anything?”
“No thank you,” Radek had already turned back to frowning at the board.
“Chuck?” There was a hint of challenge in Weir’s voice.
“No thanks,” he replied meekly.
The desire to have the control room floor swallow him left with Weir’s exit. Chuck fidgeted in his seat, and swiveled around to watch Zelenka. The scientist had gone back to tapping at his computer and muttering to himself in Czech.
“I changed my mind,” Chuck announced. “I think I need some coffee after all.”
Zelenka waved a vague hand in his direction. “Go. Please go. Take your time.”
As Chuck had suspected, Elizabeth was not in the mess hall. He poured a cup of coffee anyway for appearances sake. Besides, he could use the caffeine.
He drank the coffee quickly, looking at his watch. Swallowing the last scalding gulp, he stretched his shoulders, nodded to the sergeant on duty, and snagged a donut on the way out the door.
Eating his donut slowly, he wandered the hallways, ending up outside the gym. He licked the last bits of glaze off his thumb and forefinger and contemplated the closed door. This was it, end of the road. Absolutely no way he was going in there.
As he turned to go, he heard the door swish open behind him. He froze in place as a gruff voice behind him said “Come to fight?”
Chuck slowly turned back, icy cold sweat trickling down his spine. The desire to have the floor swallow him up returned in full force.
Ronon stood in the doorway of the gym, slouching against the door frame. His arms were folded, making his biceps bulge out below the shoulders of his sleeveless sweater.
“No, no, no,” Chuck inched back down the hallway. “Just getting coffee.”
Ronon arched an eyebrow. “This isn’t the mess.”
“Finished it,” Chuck stammered, “stretching my legs.”
“Come stretch them in here.” Ronon unfolded his arms and reached out, his fingers wrapping around Chuck’s wrist with a cast-iron grip. “I need a sparring partner.”
“I should be getting back,” Chuck tried unsuccessfully to extract his arm from Ronon’s hand. “Dr. Zelenka needs me.”
“Zelenka’s fine. He’s watching his… ‘Blip’.” A sharp tug and Chuck found himself standing on the center mat of the gym, the door closing with a sharp snap.
“Take off your jacket. Don’t want to get it dirty.”
Chuck looked up at the smirking face framed by rope-like dreadlocks, and swallowed hard. He unzipped his jacket, pulled it off and folded it carefully, keeping the Canadian flag patch on top. He placed it on the floor against the wall. Maybe they would bury him in it when he died. He stepped forward onto the mat to meet his fate.
Ronon stood facing him across the mat. The Satedan was barefoot, and wearing loose fitting trousers that draped just well enough to show that he was made of more than hair and muscle. “Stick or bare hands?”
“What?” Chuck blinked.
“Teyla likes the sticks. Sheppard doesn’t.” Ronon shrugged.
“What does Elizabeth like?” The words were out before Chuck could stop them. He was a dead man anyway. Might as well go out with a flash of bravado.
Ronon was silent for a moment, and then his lips slowly curved into what generally passed as a smile for the warrior. To Chuck it resembled the look a cat had when about to devour a mouse. “She likes leather.” He raised his hands in front of his chest. “Are you ready?”
“No,” Chuck answered.
“Too bad.” There was a flurry and fists and flying hair and next thing Chuck knew he was laying flat on his back, watching the ceiling of the gym spin around in circles above him.
“Why did the ancients paint it so many colors?” he asked.
“Paint what?” A blurry face framed with dangling hair was suddenly blocking his view of the pretty ceiling.
“Up there,” Chuck waved vaguely.
“Ronon! What are you doing?”
Chuck winced, and saw Ronon do the same. He’d never realized Weir’s voice could get so shrill.
“Just a friendly match,” Ronon said defensively. He reached out his hand and Chuck allowed him to pull him to a sitting position. He didn’t quite trust his legs yet, especially as the walls were now spinning.
“Friendly,” Chuck echoed.
Weir frowned, kneeling in front of him. “That didn’t look very friendly. You’d better let Dr. Beckett check you out.”
“I’m fine,” Chuck protested, pushing himself the rest of the way to his feet. The room lurched sideways and Ronon caught him by the arm.
“He’s fine. Zelenka needs him.”
“Zelenka’s busy monitoring his blip.” Elizabeth folded her arms.
“Which we should check out. Get an update. Right Chuck?”
“Right.” Chuck nodded, and immediately wished he hadn’t. He allowed Ronon to escort him back to the control room, with Elizabeth at their heels.
“So?” Ronon demanded, causing Zelenka to swivel around so fast he almost fell off his chair.
“Well what?” the scientist stammered, pushing his glasses higher on his nose. He caught sight of Chuck and his eyes widened. “What happened to you?”
“Nothing,” Chuck muttered, slipping into his chair with a sigh.
“What about the Blip?’’ Ronon asked impatiently.
“Oh, that.” Zelenka shrugged. “It’s gone. Must have been a stray asteroid. Sorry.”
“Thank you, Radek,” Elizabeth said politely. She then fixed Ronon and Chuck with an icy stare. “Good night gentlemen, and I use that term loosely.” Turning on her heel she marched up the stairs.
“Good night,” they called after her, Radek cheerfully and Ronon and Chuck meekly.
“So what happened?” Zelenka asked again, as Ronon followed Weir up the stairs.
“Nothing,” Chuck said. “Just got a bit of a spinal adjustment.” He shrugged his shoulders back and winced. “You wouldn’t have any aspirin?”
oxoxoxoxo
“They’re at it again,” Zelenka whispered.
“Who’s at what?” Chuck could barely hear over the pounding in his head. He was beginning to wish he had gone to the infirmary the night before, if only to get some good drugs.
”Ronon just went into Weir’s office,” Radek nodded conspiratorially. “I thought you’d want to know.”
“Don’t you think we should mind our own business?” Chuck asked.
Radek raised both eyebrows. “You were singing different song last night.”
“Different tune,” Chuck corrected automatically.
Radek shrugged. “Whatever.” He grinned. “You ate more than you could swallow didn’t you?”
“Bit off more than you could chew,” Chuck corrected again. “Now shut up and pass the aspirin.”
Xoxoxox
“Are they watching?” Elizabeth perched on the front of her desk, as Ronon closed the door.
“Nope.”
“Good,” she smiled, but the smile quickly faded. “You shouldn’t have hit him though.”
“Are you still mad at me?” Ronon moved closer, placing his hands lightly on her shoulders.
She sighed and shook her head. “No.”
“Oh.”
“You sound disappointed,” Elizabeth arched an eyebrow.
Ronon grinned “Sheppard says ‘make-up sex’ is the best.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “He would.” She reached up and grasped two handfuls of Ronon’s hair. “So are you going to test his theory or not?” She pulled his head down for a kiss.
~the end~
Author: Alasse
Written for: BiPagan
Prompt: Ronon and Elizabeth secret relationship
Characters/Pairing: Ronon, Elizabeth (obviously), Chuck, and Radek.
Rating: PG13, b/c Ronon has been picking up phrases from Sheppard *shakes head*
Author’s note: I blame Chuck Campbell for eating my brain in London, but his character sort of stole the show. Hope you don’t mind too much! This had no official beta b/c wanted to post before the deadline, and would have been two hours overdue if that hadn’t been extended! Hugs to theyllek and katstales for reading my pasting.
Ronon padded softly down the corridor toward Elizabeth Weir’s office. Despite his size, he could move quietly when he wanted to. No one in the control room would hear him. He slipped through the usually open doorway of the room where the leader of Atlantis was working late, as usual.
The door swished shut behind him.
No one heard him. However he had not counted on bored Canadian technicians.
Chuck leaned back in his chair, stretching to crack his aching back. As he dangled his head backwards, he noticed the door to Weir’s office was closed. He sat up abruptly, cracking his neck loudly in the process.
“Would you stop that,” an irritated voice came from the chair to his right. Dr. Radek Zelenka scowled at him, peering over the top of the glasses that were precariously perched halfway down his nose.
“Stop what?”
“The cracking of the bones,” Zelenka waved a hand in his direction and returned to tapping furiously at his computer tablet. “Is very annoying.”
“Sorry,” Chuck emphasized the first syllable, rolling his eyes. “They’re at it again,” he then said quietly.
“Who is at what?” A sputter of Czech followed the question and the scientist sprang from his seat, scooting over to stare at the long range sensor board.
“Ronon and Weir. Is something coming?” Chuck squinted at what he could see of the board over Zelenka’s shoulder.
“Yes. No. Maybe.” Zelenka took off his glasses for a closer look at the board, and then turned around to stare at Chuck. “Ronon? What are you talking about?”
“Don’t you notice how often he comes to ‘meet’ with her late at night? And then closes the door. Weir’s door is never closed otherwise.”
Radek stared at him a moment longer, then shook his head and turned back to the board muttering in Czech. Chuck could have sworn he heard the word ‘Canadian’ mixed in.
Pushing out of his chair carefully to avoid the extended shelf of the console, Chuck joined the scientist at the board. “Is that it?” he asked, pointing to a faint green blip on the outer edges of the screen.
“Yes,” Zelenka replied, “whatever ‘it’ is.”
“Great,” Chuck said enthusiastically. The week had been quiet. Way too quiet. No wraith, no replicators, no Genii, just people trading fruits and grains, and long still nights with nothing better to do than to speculate about his lovely boss and Colonel Sheppard’s dreadlocked warrior.
He bounced back to the console and tapped the intercom. “Dr Weir,” he said, voice booming over the loudspeaker. “Please report to the control room immediately.” He cocked his head, watching for the office door to open.
“Chuck,” Radek’s voice fairly squeaked behind him. “What are you doing?”
“We have an unknown entity approaching,” Chuck replied, rolling his eyes in the direction of the Czech. “Dr. Weir must be notified.”
“But we do not know what it is yet!”
“Yes. Hence the unknown.” Chuck sighed, realizing he’d looked away from Weir’s office. He turned back around and was met with a face full of brown sweater.
“What is what?” Asked Ronon’s gruff voice. Chuck jumped back with a startled gulp.
“Dr. Zelenka? You have something to report?” Elizabeth Weir stood a few feet behind the warrior. Her face was flushed and she was patting down her hair with one hand, while tugging lightly at her red shirt with the other.
“Um no, not really,” Zelenka stammered, pushing up his glasses. ‘We have a blip.”
“A blip?” Ronon folded his arms, and glanced over his shoulder at Weir, eyebrows raised.
“A blip on the long range sensors,” Zelenka explained. “But it’s too soon to tell if it is anything important. It could just be an asteroid or comet. The technician’s summons was premature.” He glared at Chuck.
“You can say that again,” Ronon muttered under his breath.
Elizabeth cleared her throat loudly. “Keep an eye on the ‘blip’ please. I’ll send Colonel Sheppard’s team in a jumper to check it out in the morning if it looks significant by then.”
“Well if no one needs me,” Ronon looked pointedly at Chuck and flexed his biceps. “I’ll be in the gym.” He climbed the stairs, pausing as he passed Elizabeth, who cleared her throat again.
“I’m going to go to the mess to get some coffee,” Weir announced brightly. “Would either of you gentlemen like anything?”
“No thank you,” Radek had already turned back to frowning at the board.
“Chuck?” There was a hint of challenge in Weir’s voice.
“No thanks,” he replied meekly.
The desire to have the control room floor swallow him left with Weir’s exit. Chuck fidgeted in his seat, and swiveled around to watch Zelenka. The scientist had gone back to tapping at his computer and muttering to himself in Czech.
“I changed my mind,” Chuck announced. “I think I need some coffee after all.”
Zelenka waved a vague hand in his direction. “Go. Please go. Take your time.”
As Chuck had suspected, Elizabeth was not in the mess hall. He poured a cup of coffee anyway for appearances sake. Besides, he could use the caffeine.
He drank the coffee quickly, looking at his watch. Swallowing the last scalding gulp, he stretched his shoulders, nodded to the sergeant on duty, and snagged a donut on the way out the door.
Eating his donut slowly, he wandered the hallways, ending up outside the gym. He licked the last bits of glaze off his thumb and forefinger and contemplated the closed door. This was it, end of the road. Absolutely no way he was going in there.
As he turned to go, he heard the door swish open behind him. He froze in place as a gruff voice behind him said “Come to fight?”
Chuck slowly turned back, icy cold sweat trickling down his spine. The desire to have the floor swallow him up returned in full force.
Ronon stood in the doorway of the gym, slouching against the door frame. His arms were folded, making his biceps bulge out below the shoulders of his sleeveless sweater.
“No, no, no,” Chuck inched back down the hallway. “Just getting coffee.”
Ronon arched an eyebrow. “This isn’t the mess.”
“Finished it,” Chuck stammered, “stretching my legs.”
“Come stretch them in here.” Ronon unfolded his arms and reached out, his fingers wrapping around Chuck’s wrist with a cast-iron grip. “I need a sparring partner.”
“I should be getting back,” Chuck tried unsuccessfully to extract his arm from Ronon’s hand. “Dr. Zelenka needs me.”
“Zelenka’s fine. He’s watching his… ‘Blip’.” A sharp tug and Chuck found himself standing on the center mat of the gym, the door closing with a sharp snap.
“Take off your jacket. Don’t want to get it dirty.”
Chuck looked up at the smirking face framed by rope-like dreadlocks, and swallowed hard. He unzipped his jacket, pulled it off and folded it carefully, keeping the Canadian flag patch on top. He placed it on the floor against the wall. Maybe they would bury him in it when he died. He stepped forward onto the mat to meet his fate.
Ronon stood facing him across the mat. The Satedan was barefoot, and wearing loose fitting trousers that draped just well enough to show that he was made of more than hair and muscle. “Stick or bare hands?”
“What?” Chuck blinked.
“Teyla likes the sticks. Sheppard doesn’t.” Ronon shrugged.
“What does Elizabeth like?” The words were out before Chuck could stop them. He was a dead man anyway. Might as well go out with a flash of bravado.
Ronon was silent for a moment, and then his lips slowly curved into what generally passed as a smile for the warrior. To Chuck it resembled the look a cat had when about to devour a mouse. “She likes leather.” He raised his hands in front of his chest. “Are you ready?”
“No,” Chuck answered.
“Too bad.” There was a flurry and fists and flying hair and next thing Chuck knew he was laying flat on his back, watching the ceiling of the gym spin around in circles above him.
“Why did the ancients paint it so many colors?” he asked.
“Paint what?” A blurry face framed with dangling hair was suddenly blocking his view of the pretty ceiling.
“Up there,” Chuck waved vaguely.
“Ronon! What are you doing?”
Chuck winced, and saw Ronon do the same. He’d never realized Weir’s voice could get so shrill.
“Just a friendly match,” Ronon said defensively. He reached out his hand and Chuck allowed him to pull him to a sitting position. He didn’t quite trust his legs yet, especially as the walls were now spinning.
“Friendly,” Chuck echoed.
Weir frowned, kneeling in front of him. “That didn’t look very friendly. You’d better let Dr. Beckett check you out.”
“I’m fine,” Chuck protested, pushing himself the rest of the way to his feet. The room lurched sideways and Ronon caught him by the arm.
“He’s fine. Zelenka needs him.”
“Zelenka’s busy monitoring his blip.” Elizabeth folded her arms.
“Which we should check out. Get an update. Right Chuck?”
“Right.” Chuck nodded, and immediately wished he hadn’t. He allowed Ronon to escort him back to the control room, with Elizabeth at their heels.
“So?” Ronon demanded, causing Zelenka to swivel around so fast he almost fell off his chair.
“Well what?” the scientist stammered, pushing his glasses higher on his nose. He caught sight of Chuck and his eyes widened. “What happened to you?”
“Nothing,” Chuck muttered, slipping into his chair with a sigh.
“What about the Blip?’’ Ronon asked impatiently.
“Oh, that.” Zelenka shrugged. “It’s gone. Must have been a stray asteroid. Sorry.”
“Thank you, Radek,” Elizabeth said politely. She then fixed Ronon and Chuck with an icy stare. “Good night gentlemen, and I use that term loosely.” Turning on her heel she marched up the stairs.
“Good night,” they called after her, Radek cheerfully and Ronon and Chuck meekly.
“So what happened?” Zelenka asked again, as Ronon followed Weir up the stairs.
“Nothing,” Chuck said. “Just got a bit of a spinal adjustment.” He shrugged his shoulders back and winced. “You wouldn’t have any aspirin?”
oxoxoxoxo
“They’re at it again,” Zelenka whispered.
“Who’s at what?” Chuck could barely hear over the pounding in his head. He was beginning to wish he had gone to the infirmary the night before, if only to get some good drugs.
”Ronon just went into Weir’s office,” Radek nodded conspiratorially. “I thought you’d want to know.”
“Don’t you think we should mind our own business?” Chuck asked.
Radek raised both eyebrows. “You were singing different song last night.”
“Different tune,” Chuck corrected automatically.
Radek shrugged. “Whatever.” He grinned. “You ate more than you could swallow didn’t you?”
“Bit off more than you could chew,” Chuck corrected again. “Now shut up and pass the aspirin.”
Xoxoxox
“Are they watching?” Elizabeth perched on the front of her desk, as Ronon closed the door.
“Nope.”
“Good,” she smiled, but the smile quickly faded. “You shouldn’t have hit him though.”
“Are you still mad at me?” Ronon moved closer, placing his hands lightly on her shoulders.
She sighed and shook her head. “No.”
“Oh.”
“You sound disappointed,” Elizabeth arched an eyebrow.
Ronon grinned “Sheppard says ‘make-up sex’ is the best.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “He would.” She reached up and grasped two handfuls of Ronon’s hair. “So are you going to test his theory or not?” She pulled his head down for a kiss.
~the end~