14 Valentines 13: Bipeds and the Deep Blue Sea (John/Rodney, PG-13)
Title: Bipeds and the Deep Blue Sea
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~2,000
Warnings: Penguin angst.
Summary: Rodney of course thought the bipeds were fascinating, deciding to study them almost immediately.
Notes: This story follows my own Antarctic Drift. Written for friendshipper, who posted this hilarious photo from the National Geographic. Not beta-read because I suck at self-motivation these days and didn't actually finish this until a few minutes ago, so any pointing out of errors is more than welcome since I'm blind for that kind of thing.
14 Valentines Essay: Day 13: Arts and Athletics
~~~
Cover by mashimero
Ever since he had first walked out into the world on his own, toddling over ice and rocks on unsteady feet, John had kept getting lost. His mother had explained the magnetic field to him, but John only ever felt it pull on him in several directions at once, never able to tell up from down, let alone north from south. His father had shown him the stars, pointing out the ones that never moved, but there were so many of them that John could never remember which was which, and they didn't help at all when it was day. His friends had told him to remember what the ice around him looked like, but it was ever-changing, and the same mountain looked different even if John just walked in a half-circle around it. So John had resigned himself to the knowledge that if longwings or other predators didn't get him, he'd probably die alone in a desert of ice after taking the wrong shortcut.
But now, three years later, he thought he'd finally found his fix point. Even if it was moving around a lot.
Rodney couldn't for the life of him dive in a straight line, and yet somehow he managed to catch more fish than anybody else. Better ones, too, and John might have felt offended - he himself was excellent at straight lines - if Rodney hadn't readily shared whatever he caught. With John, that was. Rodney also liked to talk about the stars and what they might be, about the bands of light that sometimes danced through the sky. He hated snow storms with a passion and scoffed when John skidded across the ice on his belly, just because it was fun.
John loved him.
He'd never say it out loud, of course, but… And Rodney was… And everyone knew that Emperor penguins didn't mate for life, but if said penguins were living in the same colony, John really couldn't see why not.
He'd found someone who'd walk out into a snow storm just to nudge John back to the colony, to warmth and safety. And as much as it sometimes scared him - especially the walking out into a snow storm - John would never give that up.
Never.
~~~
The bipeds came every other year. They arrived on loud, stinking sleds, putting up mobile caves for shelter and shouting to each other in their deep, slow honks and grunts, breaking the silence of the ice as they stomped around. The colony mostly ignored them - they didn't have nests for their eggs like other tribes and the sanctuary was a long walk away, so it wasn't like the bipeds were threatening their young. Still, every now and then a biped wandered a little too close for comfort. Whenever that happened, every penguin in the vicinity would peck and flap and make a fuss until the biped had retreated to a safe distance again. The colony's beaks hardly ever drew blood - the bipeds' skin was too damn thick - but seeing the intruder flail and flounder was its own kind of reward.
Rodney of course thought the bipeds were fascinating, deciding to study them almost immediately. He would flail whenever they did something new and interesting - stupid, John thought in most cases, like the time when the bipeds built their shelter on a floe that was about to break free - and John had a hard time keeping him at a secure distance.
"Look, don't touch," he'd say, and Rodney would grumble something about penguin paranoia but keep to the safe side of the floe.
But though he paid careful attention to them in case they came too close again, John mostly found the bipeds pretty harmless and entertaining.
Until they took Rodney.
~~~
Rodney was watching them again, closer to the bipeds than to the colony, and John shook his head even as he wobbled over. He felt like he had to drag Rodney away from the objects of his interest at least once a day, reminding him that he should eat as long as there were plenty of fish. It was still a while before the colony would make their way toward the sanctuary again, but it was important to start putting on weight as early as possible.
"Rodney!" he called, "Come on, buddy, let's-"
And his world froze.
Rodney had started turning his head in the direction of John's voice at the same time as one of the bipeds was raising a thin black stick and pointed it at him. John cut himself off when he saw Rodney flinch and crane his neck to look curiously at the small red bundle of feathers sticking out from the side of his neck. Then Rodney swayed, blinked, fell down. And didn't get up again.
"Rodney!" John shouted, running toward him as fast as he could, sliding on his belly where the ice was smooth enough to help him pick up speed. He still wasn't fast enough; a particularly large biped had already reached Rodney and picked him up like he weighed nothing at all. John shouted again, a wordless protest that came out as a furious croak. Behind him, the colony answered in kind, but he barely noticed. With another cry, he threw himself at the biped, pecking and flapping for all he was worth, trying to make it let go of Rodney.
Rodney, who was hanging in its arms so limp and lifeless, not moving at all, and John couldn't believe that they had let these… these predators walk around so close to them. He pecked again, but his beak wouldn't break the biped's thick dark skin. And it was so damn big and now it turned away and started to walk toward the stinking sleds, where its companions were already waiting, and John felt something broken inside him splinter and bleed as he realised that the bipeds weren't satisfied with killing Rodney, they wanted to take him away. They wanted to… they wanted to eat him, didn't they; and John desperately renewed his efforts to make the biped let go.
In vain. The biped climbed onto a sled, and John recoiled as a blast of stinking air hit his face as the sled roared to life and started to move.
"No!" he yelled, but the sled was already picking up speed, moving faster than John could run. John threw himself on his belly and slid forward, his beak touching the sled for one brief moment. Then it was out of his reach, and he could only watch as it disappeared behind a low ice ridge, taking Rodney with it.
The colony arrived moments later, meeping forlornly as they gathered around John. He didn't even look at them. He didn't want to look at anything.
Rodney was gone.
~~~
On the first day, John followed the tracks the sleds had left on the ice. He wasn't even sure what he'd do when he found the bipeds, he just needed to do something. Then the wind picked up and the tracks were blown over, and suddenly John found himself in the middle of a plain, snow twirling around him, without any idea which direction he'd come from. He shuffled on his feet and called out, "Rodney!" remembering too late that Rodney wouldn't be looking for him.
"Rodney!" he called again; maybe in denial, maybe in protest. "Rodney!"
"John," a faint voice answered him, and John spun around, staring in disbelief at the small black figure making its way toward him.
"Rodney?" he breathed, but a moment later shook his head. No, not Rodney. Radek. Rodney's friend.
"Let us go home, yes?" Radek didn't quite look at him, and John didn't answer. He followed Radek back to the colony, but it didn't feel right.
It didn't feel like home.
~~~
On the second day, John swam. Schools of silverfish fled from him as he zipped past, but he didn't try to catch them. He wasn't hungry. Instead, he swam further than he'd ever been, past the other penguins and into the outer sea, where the water was warmer but the currents were rougher. Then he started to dive.
There were no predators around so John dove as deep as he could, deeper than he should, until the water around him filtered out even the last of the sunlight and pressed uncomfortably against his body. When his ears started to hurt, John stopped, balancing in the quiet dark for a moment before he slowly let himself drift upward, blinking as the light grew brighter again.
He surfaced long before he needed to take a breath. John shook his head to get the sting out of his eyes, then he breathed in deeply.
He dove again.
~~~
On the third day, John didn't do anything at all.
The others left him alone.
~~~
On the fourth day, Rodney came back.
At first, John couldn't believe that the penguin wobbling toward him through the colony's excited chirrup was really Rodney. Then Rodney came closer, close enough to see the familiar orange tint of his cheeks, the crooked curve of his beak. And still John stood rooted to the spot, staring, disbelieving, unblinking until Rodney was there, right in front of him. Close enough to touch, and John's breath hitched as Rodney leaned in to press their foreheads together. He lost himself in the soft slide of beak against beak, in the way Rodney's feathers felt brushing against his, in the way his breathing was as harsh as always when he had to walk further than from the floe to the nearest break into the ocean. In the way Rodney was there. Alive.
"I'm back," Rodney muttered, rubbing his cheek against John's.
"You were gone?" John asked, but his voice broke on the words and completely ruined any impression of detachment he might have gone for.
"Yeah." Rodney laughed, a little shakily. "I guess there really is such a thing as biped abduction."
It was only then that John noticed the weird… thing clinging to Rodney. It looked a little like Rodney was tangled up in black seaweeds, with two straight lines going straight across his chest and belly. They were holding what seemed to be a polished stone on Rodney's back, except it clanged when John tapped his beak against it.
"Hey, stop it," Rodney complained as John alternately tapped the weird thing and tried to pry it off, yanking at the lines. "Hey!"
"In case you haven't noticed, Rodney, the bipeds stuck something on your back!" John was upset, and it didn't help that all Rodney did was roll his eyes.
"Yes, I know. It's harmless. Actually, there's an eye in there."
John blinked and let go of the line he'd been pulling on, taking a step back as he examined the stone.
"You're kidding."
"No, really, there's an eye in there. One of the bipeds showed me. Well, I suspect it didn't think I'd understand what it was doing, but, well… not every creature can share my vastly superior intellect." Rodney pranced, chest feathers sticking out proudly as he raised his chin. "I think they want to watch me hunt. Well, of course they would, I'm very skilled at fishing."
John stared at him for a moment, watching with growing amazement as Rodney craned and tilted his head, trying to peer into the thing on his back without hitting it with his beak. Then he squawked as John smacked him over the head with a flipper.
"Hey! What?"
"I thought you were dead!"
"That is no reason to resort to physical vio-" Rodney started, but John interrupted him.
"Rodney!"
Rodney stopped and blinked at John.
"I thought you were dead," John repeated, and Rodney finally seemed to get it.
"I- I'm fine," he stuttered, looking a little lost. "They didn't- I'm fine."
"Yeah," John said quietly, sliding his beak against Rodney's, the colony pressing in around them with an unerring sense for group hugs.
"Yeah."
~~~
Rodney still couldn't for the life of him dive in a straight line, but at least now he got to blame the eye on his back. Even after the bipeds took it off again - without taking Rodney, which was just as well because this time, John would have gone for their heads - Rodney complained that it had irreparably messed up his sense of balance. John just rolled his eyes and whacked Rodney with his flipper before stealing a fish from him, ignoring the outraged squawk.
If a snow storm would fall out of the sky right now, John would be okay. He could just follow the sound of Rodney's voice.
~~~
End.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~2,000
Warnings: Penguin angst.
Summary: Rodney of course thought the bipeds were fascinating, deciding to study them almost immediately.
Notes: This story follows my own Antarctic Drift. Written for friendshipper, who posted this hilarious photo from the National Geographic. Not beta-read because I suck at self-motivation these days and didn't actually finish this until a few minutes ago, so any pointing out of errors is more than welcome since I'm blind for that kind of thing.
14 Valentines Essay: Day 13: Arts and Athletics
~~~
Cover by mashimero
Ever since he had first walked out into the world on his own, toddling over ice and rocks on unsteady feet, John had kept getting lost. His mother had explained the magnetic field to him, but John only ever felt it pull on him in several directions at once, never able to tell up from down, let alone north from south. His father had shown him the stars, pointing out the ones that never moved, but there were so many of them that John could never remember which was which, and they didn't help at all when it was day. His friends had told him to remember what the ice around him looked like, but it was ever-changing, and the same mountain looked different even if John just walked in a half-circle around it. So John had resigned himself to the knowledge that if longwings or other predators didn't get him, he'd probably die alone in a desert of ice after taking the wrong shortcut.
But now, three years later, he thought he'd finally found his fix point. Even if it was moving around a lot.
Rodney couldn't for the life of him dive in a straight line, and yet somehow he managed to catch more fish than anybody else. Better ones, too, and John might have felt offended - he himself was excellent at straight lines - if Rodney hadn't readily shared whatever he caught. With John, that was. Rodney also liked to talk about the stars and what they might be, about the bands of light that sometimes danced through the sky. He hated snow storms with a passion and scoffed when John skidded across the ice on his belly, just because it was fun.
John loved him.
He'd never say it out loud, of course, but… And Rodney was… And everyone knew that Emperor penguins didn't mate for life, but if said penguins were living in the same colony, John really couldn't see why not.
He'd found someone who'd walk out into a snow storm just to nudge John back to the colony, to warmth and safety. And as much as it sometimes scared him - especially the walking out into a snow storm - John would never give that up.
Never.
~~~
The bipeds came every other year. They arrived on loud, stinking sleds, putting up mobile caves for shelter and shouting to each other in their deep, slow honks and grunts, breaking the silence of the ice as they stomped around. The colony mostly ignored them - they didn't have nests for their eggs like other tribes and the sanctuary was a long walk away, so it wasn't like the bipeds were threatening their young. Still, every now and then a biped wandered a little too close for comfort. Whenever that happened, every penguin in the vicinity would peck and flap and make a fuss until the biped had retreated to a safe distance again. The colony's beaks hardly ever drew blood - the bipeds' skin was too damn thick - but seeing the intruder flail and flounder was its own kind of reward.
Rodney of course thought the bipeds were fascinating, deciding to study them almost immediately. He would flail whenever they did something new and interesting - stupid, John thought in most cases, like the time when the bipeds built their shelter on a floe that was about to break free - and John had a hard time keeping him at a secure distance.
"Look, don't touch," he'd say, and Rodney would grumble something about penguin paranoia but keep to the safe side of the floe.
But though he paid careful attention to them in case they came too close again, John mostly found the bipeds pretty harmless and entertaining.
Until they took Rodney.
~~~
Rodney was watching them again, closer to the bipeds than to the colony, and John shook his head even as he wobbled over. He felt like he had to drag Rodney away from the objects of his interest at least once a day, reminding him that he should eat as long as there were plenty of fish. It was still a while before the colony would make their way toward the sanctuary again, but it was important to start putting on weight as early as possible.
"Rodney!" he called, "Come on, buddy, let's-"
And his world froze.
Rodney had started turning his head in the direction of John's voice at the same time as one of the bipeds was raising a thin black stick and pointed it at him. John cut himself off when he saw Rodney flinch and crane his neck to look curiously at the small red bundle of feathers sticking out from the side of his neck. Then Rodney swayed, blinked, fell down. And didn't get up again.
"Rodney!" John shouted, running toward him as fast as he could, sliding on his belly where the ice was smooth enough to help him pick up speed. He still wasn't fast enough; a particularly large biped had already reached Rodney and picked him up like he weighed nothing at all. John shouted again, a wordless protest that came out as a furious croak. Behind him, the colony answered in kind, but he barely noticed. With another cry, he threw himself at the biped, pecking and flapping for all he was worth, trying to make it let go of Rodney.
Rodney, who was hanging in its arms so limp and lifeless, not moving at all, and John couldn't believe that they had let these… these predators walk around so close to them. He pecked again, but his beak wouldn't break the biped's thick dark skin. And it was so damn big and now it turned away and started to walk toward the stinking sleds, where its companions were already waiting, and John felt something broken inside him splinter and bleed as he realised that the bipeds weren't satisfied with killing Rodney, they wanted to take him away. They wanted to… they wanted to eat him, didn't they; and John desperately renewed his efforts to make the biped let go.
In vain. The biped climbed onto a sled, and John recoiled as a blast of stinking air hit his face as the sled roared to life and started to move.
"No!" he yelled, but the sled was already picking up speed, moving faster than John could run. John threw himself on his belly and slid forward, his beak touching the sled for one brief moment. Then it was out of his reach, and he could only watch as it disappeared behind a low ice ridge, taking Rodney with it.
The colony arrived moments later, meeping forlornly as they gathered around John. He didn't even look at them. He didn't want to look at anything.
Rodney was gone.
~~~
On the first day, John followed the tracks the sleds had left on the ice. He wasn't even sure what he'd do when he found the bipeds, he just needed to do something. Then the wind picked up and the tracks were blown over, and suddenly John found himself in the middle of a plain, snow twirling around him, without any idea which direction he'd come from. He shuffled on his feet and called out, "Rodney!" remembering too late that Rodney wouldn't be looking for him.
"Rodney!" he called again; maybe in denial, maybe in protest. "Rodney!"
"John," a faint voice answered him, and John spun around, staring in disbelief at the small black figure making its way toward him.
"Rodney?" he breathed, but a moment later shook his head. No, not Rodney. Radek. Rodney's friend.
"Let us go home, yes?" Radek didn't quite look at him, and John didn't answer. He followed Radek back to the colony, but it didn't feel right.
It didn't feel like home.
~~~
On the second day, John swam. Schools of silverfish fled from him as he zipped past, but he didn't try to catch them. He wasn't hungry. Instead, he swam further than he'd ever been, past the other penguins and into the outer sea, where the water was warmer but the currents were rougher. Then he started to dive.
There were no predators around so John dove as deep as he could, deeper than he should, until the water around him filtered out even the last of the sunlight and pressed uncomfortably against his body. When his ears started to hurt, John stopped, balancing in the quiet dark for a moment before he slowly let himself drift upward, blinking as the light grew brighter again.
He surfaced long before he needed to take a breath. John shook his head to get the sting out of his eyes, then he breathed in deeply.
He dove again.
~~~
On the third day, John didn't do anything at all.
The others left him alone.
~~~
On the fourth day, Rodney came back.
At first, John couldn't believe that the penguin wobbling toward him through the colony's excited chirrup was really Rodney. Then Rodney came closer, close enough to see the familiar orange tint of his cheeks, the crooked curve of his beak. And still John stood rooted to the spot, staring, disbelieving, unblinking until Rodney was there, right in front of him. Close enough to touch, and John's breath hitched as Rodney leaned in to press their foreheads together. He lost himself in the soft slide of beak against beak, in the way Rodney's feathers felt brushing against his, in the way his breathing was as harsh as always when he had to walk further than from the floe to the nearest break into the ocean. In the way Rodney was there. Alive.
"I'm back," Rodney muttered, rubbing his cheek against John's.
"You were gone?" John asked, but his voice broke on the words and completely ruined any impression of detachment he might have gone for.
"Yeah." Rodney laughed, a little shakily. "I guess there really is such a thing as biped abduction."
It was only then that John noticed the weird… thing clinging to Rodney. It looked a little like Rodney was tangled up in black seaweeds, with two straight lines going straight across his chest and belly. They were holding what seemed to be a polished stone on Rodney's back, except it clanged when John tapped his beak against it.
"Hey, stop it," Rodney complained as John alternately tapped the weird thing and tried to pry it off, yanking at the lines. "Hey!"
"In case you haven't noticed, Rodney, the bipeds stuck something on your back!" John was upset, and it didn't help that all Rodney did was roll his eyes.
"Yes, I know. It's harmless. Actually, there's an eye in there."
John blinked and let go of the line he'd been pulling on, taking a step back as he examined the stone.
"You're kidding."
"No, really, there's an eye in there. One of the bipeds showed me. Well, I suspect it didn't think I'd understand what it was doing, but, well… not every creature can share my vastly superior intellect." Rodney pranced, chest feathers sticking out proudly as he raised his chin. "I think they want to watch me hunt. Well, of course they would, I'm very skilled at fishing."
John stared at him for a moment, watching with growing amazement as Rodney craned and tilted his head, trying to peer into the thing on his back without hitting it with his beak. Then he squawked as John smacked him over the head with a flipper.
"Hey! What?"
"I thought you were dead!"
"That is no reason to resort to physical vio-" Rodney started, but John interrupted him.
"Rodney!"
Rodney stopped and blinked at John.
"I thought you were dead," John repeated, and Rodney finally seemed to get it.
"I- I'm fine," he stuttered, looking a little lost. "They didn't- I'm fine."
"Yeah," John said quietly, sliding his beak against Rodney's, the colony pressing in around them with an unerring sense for group hugs.
"Yeah."
~~~
Rodney still couldn't for the life of him dive in a straight line, but at least now he got to blame the eye on his back. Even after the bipeds took it off again - without taking Rodney, which was just as well because this time, John would have gone for their heads - Rodney complained that it had irreparably messed up his sense of balance. John just rolled his eyes and whacked Rodney with his flipper before stealing a fish from him, ignoring the outraged squawk.
If a snow storm would fall out of the sky right now, John would be okay. He could just follow the sound of Rodney's voice.
~~~
End.