Fic: On the Right Note (SGA) Part 2 of 5
Title: On the Right Note (2/5)
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis AU
Characters: John, Rodney, Jeanne, Ronon
Word Count: 1683
Prompt: honesty for the stargateland Multimedia Bingo challenge
Disclaimer: I don't own. I only play around with it from time to time.
Summary: John Sheppard's a small town boy wanting to make it big in the music industry. While he loses the family he was born into because of this decision, he gains a whole new one along the way.
Teyla tells him to stop worrying but he can't let go of the feeling that has haunted him ever since he sat down in the chair next to the engineer and it fell over backwards. Sometimes there is such a thing as fate and destiny and all that crap that he's spent his life running from.
The contract is signed and notarized and whatever else needed to be done but John is sure that the phone is going to ring and someone on the other side is going to tell him it's been a joke. He jumps at every sound even though he tries to hide it and Teyla mostly ignores him and Torren thinks it's hilarious that Uncle John has suddenly started playing a fun game with him that isn't unlike the things he sees on TV.
It's all a little too much and John has to leave before he goes insane with the stress. He leaves his guitar because he'd have to explain why he's leaving with it and then assure Teyla that he'll be back and she doesn't have to worry about him because only one of them should be wrapped up in jittery nerves. Even though he doesn't have his guitar, he ends up at Brody's. The place is as much home as Teyla's is and more than the manor house ever was. Adam is there himself tonight, tending bar like the old days before the place got a reputation and started having more than just the three regulars that showed up every Sunday to watch football.
"You going to sing tonight?" he asks, wiping his hands on the ever-present towel on his shoulder. "People have been asking about you?"
"People have been... asking?" It feels like John has swallowed his tongue because he doesn't think the record label has said anything yet. No one should even know his name.
But Brody nods toward the middle of the room where a man and woman sit, their heads together as if they really want to hear what the other is saying. "Okay, two. But they're not the teenage girls that normally ask for you so it made an impression. Asked for you specifically. First name and last."
John wonders if this is the sign he's been waiting for and one of these people is asking for him here so he can't make a scene when they fire him. Still, he figured he has to get it over some time and he's tired of waiting for fate to hand him the bad news on her time schedule. He grabs the only other chair at their table and turns it around so he can lean on the back. It feels better having the protection of the thin plastic covering his core, as if he needs some sort of bullet-proof vest for this conversation.
"Hi. I'm John. Heard you were asking about me." He considers holding out his hand but decides against it when the woman's eyes go wide. This is what Teyla has been telling him he'll need to get used to, this adulation as if people really know him just because they like his music. It's a little strange watching it start from the very beginning because the teenage girls always come to the bar to hear him already tittering like magpies.
The man is much more serious but he doesn't offer his hand so John feels better about his own apparent lack of manners. "I can make you sound better than any joker you have working for you right now."
"Excuse me?"
"I heard you're working with Zelenka. He's going to flatten you out. I heard you once. Here, as a matter of fact. Without anything but the crappiest sound system available on the market today and you sounded better than most produced people in the music business. I can make you sound even better."
John isn't sure if he should be impressed or scared. He vaguely remembers that the engineer with the faulty chair was named something vaguely ethic but he was too busy trying to pull himself back together to follow much more of the conversation at the studio that day. They'd wanted him to sing for them but he made up some excuse about not having his guitar even though there was a rack of the shiniest instruments he'd ever laid eyes on. Teyla had reminded everyone present that he wasn't under contract yet so they'd let him go without making too much of a fuss.
Before he could answer, the woman hit the man in the shoulder. "You're rambling again. I know what you're talking about and even I'm lost." She remembers her manners because her hand is suddenly stretched out. "My name is Jeannie Miller. This is my brother, Mer-"
"Rodney! My name is Rodney!" He slaps his sister's hand away before John can get a good grip on it. "She's enamored with your hair."
"I'm going to design school," she explains even though John isn't exactly sure what sort of question she's answering. How hair and design go together, he's not sure, but he nods his head like it all makes sense. "I like the t-shirt and jeans look on you but I think you need something... different. Something special."
"Please, Jeannie. You promised you wouldn't interfere if I let you come."
"I'm not interfering. I just think you were right."
As cute as it is to watch siblings argue (because he didn't get enough of it with Dave when they were younger and still cared that there was another warm body in the house), he's pretty sure that Teyla will start to worry if he's gone much longer. He doesn't even bother to wait for one of them to breath because they're talking over each other so that all he hears is babbling. Instead of trying to respond, he stands up and begins to move back to the bar.
"Where are you going?" Rodney calls after him.
He turns back toward them but only part of the way. As he lifts his rapidly warming beer to his lips, he contemplates the small stage that he grew up playing on. His words are directed there instead of the two gap-mouthed people watching him as if he's the strange one. "The way I see it, I'm under contract with Atlantis so if either one of you want to work with me, you're going to have to check in with the people from the label. Nothing I can do to sway them."
"But... but... but," and it's heady watching Rodney reduced to only one word as if he's suddenly lost all knowledge of the English language. He's gone strangely pale.
"What my brother is trying to say is that he does need your voucher. See, he got kicked off an Atlantis job. Cute girl. Sam Carter. You've probably heard of her. He's enamored. Set the equalizer wrong at one of her concerts and nearly sent the entire audience to the hospital with hearing damage. She's their top act right now so that means that Rodney is persona non grata around that place."
John considers walking away and not looking back but he feels bad for the guy. He doesn't know why, seeing as he hadn't known the guy fifteen minutes ago, but there's something about the way his lower lip is actually quivering that makes John want to help him out. Still, making demands like this could ruin his career before he even gets it off the ground so he decides to give the guy a trial.
"Think you work with the system here?"
"I can work with anything," Rodney boosts. The moment he realizes what he's said, he tries to back out of the statement but John's already moving toward the stage.
It's odd to sing without any accompaniment but John's done it before. He'd like to hear what Rodney can do with more than just a voice, though. There's a big guy up near the stage, a dark guitar case leaning against his leg. John's seen him around here before and has heard him play a time or two. The guy's got talent even if his singing voice is more suited for background vocals. That alone gives John an idea.
"Hey, you feel up to playing a song or two?" he asks when he's standing in front of the guy. What was his name? He vaguely remembers being introduced to him. Rod? Ron... Ronon. That's it. Ronon Dex. "I could use someone backing me up."
For a long moment, Ronon just stares at him like he's crazy and John is afraid that maybe Rodney's brand of crazy rubbed off on him. Just when he thinks about turning around and pretending he didn't stop, the man nods. "Sure."
If he was expecting more words, John is sorely disappointed because Ronon picks up his case and walks on to the stage as if they'd planned the whole thing out. In fact, he starts to strum the opening chords to the last song John did here. Even though he doesn't remember if Ronon was in the audience, it doesn't mean he wasn't somewhere in the shadows where John wouldn't have noticed him or hadn't heard the songs in John's typical set before. It's no secret that John likes to sing a few well-worn favorites because everyone likes those already before sneaking in a few of his own.
John thinks about asking him if he knows the words but decides it doesn't matter if the guy decides to sing with him or not. He's good with just this.
Before he steps up on stage, he touches the black wristguard on his left hand to his forehead. As always, the memory of his mother's last words come to him. Whatever you do, Johnny, do it with your whole heart. Nothing will ever keep him from the promise he made to his mother. Not his father. Not a record label. Not some guy at the sound board who may or may not be a master at his craft. He's going to sing with his whole heart, no matter what.
This entry was cross posted at dreamwidth - where the cool kids hang out.
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis AU
Characters: John, Rodney, Jeanne, Ronon
Word Count: 1683
Prompt: honesty for the stargateland Multimedia Bingo challenge
Disclaimer: I don't own. I only play around with it from time to time.
Summary: John Sheppard's a small town boy wanting to make it big in the music industry. While he loses the family he was born into because of this decision, he gains a whole new one along the way.
Teyla tells him to stop worrying but he can't let go of the feeling that has haunted him ever since he sat down in the chair next to the engineer and it fell over backwards. Sometimes there is such a thing as fate and destiny and all that crap that he's spent his life running from.
The contract is signed and notarized and whatever else needed to be done but John is sure that the phone is going to ring and someone on the other side is going to tell him it's been a joke. He jumps at every sound even though he tries to hide it and Teyla mostly ignores him and Torren thinks it's hilarious that Uncle John has suddenly started playing a fun game with him that isn't unlike the things he sees on TV.
It's all a little too much and John has to leave before he goes insane with the stress. He leaves his guitar because he'd have to explain why he's leaving with it and then assure Teyla that he'll be back and she doesn't have to worry about him because only one of them should be wrapped up in jittery nerves. Even though he doesn't have his guitar, he ends up at Brody's. The place is as much home as Teyla's is and more than the manor house ever was. Adam is there himself tonight, tending bar like the old days before the place got a reputation and started having more than just the three regulars that showed up every Sunday to watch football.
"You going to sing tonight?" he asks, wiping his hands on the ever-present towel on his shoulder. "People have been asking about you?"
"People have been... asking?" It feels like John has swallowed his tongue because he doesn't think the record label has said anything yet. No one should even know his name.
But Brody nods toward the middle of the room where a man and woman sit, their heads together as if they really want to hear what the other is saying. "Okay, two. But they're not the teenage girls that normally ask for you so it made an impression. Asked for you specifically. First name and last."
John wonders if this is the sign he's been waiting for and one of these people is asking for him here so he can't make a scene when they fire him. Still, he figured he has to get it over some time and he's tired of waiting for fate to hand him the bad news on her time schedule. He grabs the only other chair at their table and turns it around so he can lean on the back. It feels better having the protection of the thin plastic covering his core, as if he needs some sort of bullet-proof vest for this conversation.
"Hi. I'm John. Heard you were asking about me." He considers holding out his hand but decides against it when the woman's eyes go wide. This is what Teyla has been telling him he'll need to get used to, this adulation as if people really know him just because they like his music. It's a little strange watching it start from the very beginning because the teenage girls always come to the bar to hear him already tittering like magpies.
The man is much more serious but he doesn't offer his hand so John feels better about his own apparent lack of manners. "I can make you sound better than any joker you have working for you right now."
"Excuse me?"
"I heard you're working with Zelenka. He's going to flatten you out. I heard you once. Here, as a matter of fact. Without anything but the crappiest sound system available on the market today and you sounded better than most produced people in the music business. I can make you sound even better."
John isn't sure if he should be impressed or scared. He vaguely remembers that the engineer with the faulty chair was named something vaguely ethic but he was too busy trying to pull himself back together to follow much more of the conversation at the studio that day. They'd wanted him to sing for them but he made up some excuse about not having his guitar even though there was a rack of the shiniest instruments he'd ever laid eyes on. Teyla had reminded everyone present that he wasn't under contract yet so they'd let him go without making too much of a fuss.
Before he could answer, the woman hit the man in the shoulder. "You're rambling again. I know what you're talking about and even I'm lost." She remembers her manners because her hand is suddenly stretched out. "My name is Jeannie Miller. This is my brother, Mer-"
"Rodney! My name is Rodney!" He slaps his sister's hand away before John can get a good grip on it. "She's enamored with your hair."
"I'm going to design school," she explains even though John isn't exactly sure what sort of question she's answering. How hair and design go together, he's not sure, but he nods his head like it all makes sense. "I like the t-shirt and jeans look on you but I think you need something... different. Something special."
"Please, Jeannie. You promised you wouldn't interfere if I let you come."
"I'm not interfering. I just think you were right."
As cute as it is to watch siblings argue (because he didn't get enough of it with Dave when they were younger and still cared that there was another warm body in the house), he's pretty sure that Teyla will start to worry if he's gone much longer. He doesn't even bother to wait for one of them to breath because they're talking over each other so that all he hears is babbling. Instead of trying to respond, he stands up and begins to move back to the bar.
"Where are you going?" Rodney calls after him.
He turns back toward them but only part of the way. As he lifts his rapidly warming beer to his lips, he contemplates the small stage that he grew up playing on. His words are directed there instead of the two gap-mouthed people watching him as if he's the strange one. "The way I see it, I'm under contract with Atlantis so if either one of you want to work with me, you're going to have to check in with the people from the label. Nothing I can do to sway them."
"But... but... but," and it's heady watching Rodney reduced to only one word as if he's suddenly lost all knowledge of the English language. He's gone strangely pale.
"What my brother is trying to say is that he does need your voucher. See, he got kicked off an Atlantis job. Cute girl. Sam Carter. You've probably heard of her. He's enamored. Set the equalizer wrong at one of her concerts and nearly sent the entire audience to the hospital with hearing damage. She's their top act right now so that means that Rodney is persona non grata around that place."
John considers walking away and not looking back but he feels bad for the guy. He doesn't know why, seeing as he hadn't known the guy fifteen minutes ago, but there's something about the way his lower lip is actually quivering that makes John want to help him out. Still, making demands like this could ruin his career before he even gets it off the ground so he decides to give the guy a trial.
"Think you work with the system here?"
"I can work with anything," Rodney boosts. The moment he realizes what he's said, he tries to back out of the statement but John's already moving toward the stage.
It's odd to sing without any accompaniment but John's done it before. He'd like to hear what Rodney can do with more than just a voice, though. There's a big guy up near the stage, a dark guitar case leaning against his leg. John's seen him around here before and has heard him play a time or two. The guy's got talent even if his singing voice is more suited for background vocals. That alone gives John an idea.
"Hey, you feel up to playing a song or two?" he asks when he's standing in front of the guy. What was his name? He vaguely remembers being introduced to him. Rod? Ron... Ronon. That's it. Ronon Dex. "I could use someone backing me up."
For a long moment, Ronon just stares at him like he's crazy and John is afraid that maybe Rodney's brand of crazy rubbed off on him. Just when he thinks about turning around and pretending he didn't stop, the man nods. "Sure."
If he was expecting more words, John is sorely disappointed because Ronon picks up his case and walks on to the stage as if they'd planned the whole thing out. In fact, he starts to strum the opening chords to the last song John did here. Even though he doesn't remember if Ronon was in the audience, it doesn't mean he wasn't somewhere in the shadows where John wouldn't have noticed him or hadn't heard the songs in John's typical set before. It's no secret that John likes to sing a few well-worn favorites because everyone likes those already before sneaking in a few of his own.
John thinks about asking him if he knows the words but decides it doesn't matter if the guy decides to sing with him or not. He's good with just this.
Before he steps up on stage, he touches the black wristguard on his left hand to his forehead. As always, the memory of his mother's last words come to him. Whatever you do, Johnny, do it with your whole heart. Nothing will ever keep him from the promise he made to his mother. Not his father. Not a record label. Not some guy at the sound board who may or may not be a master at his craft. He's going to sing with his whole heart, no matter what.
This entry was cross posted at dreamwidth - where the cool kids hang out.