14,610 Days (40 Years) + 1
It's still the 8th where I am (under the wire, ftw!), and as such, that means it's also still my birthday! So I wrote a birthday fic with smoochies. \o/
14,610 Days (40 Years) + 1 by aphelant
~2000 words, G
It's Rodney's fortieth birthday and he's told his friends in no uncertain terms that they are not to throw him any sort of party. He has a sixth sense for these types of things, he warns them, and he will know if there are balloons or streamers - or, god forbid, punch bowls - anywhere in the city, and he will never, ever forgive them.
Presents are of course expected, as well as cake, which should be delivered to him in the labs periodically throughout the day, with the understanding that it will not be shared. With anyone.
His friends, wisely, respect his wishes.
--
The first present arrives with his morning coffee. Teyla slides a slice of cake ("Oh my god, you guys got me Black Forest? I love you.") onto his desk and places a tiny satchel next to it.
"Happy birthday Rodney," she greets him, and he hums a response around a forkful of cake.
"Wha'd oo geh meh?" he asks. Teyla gives him The Eyebrow but opens the little satchel and pours something small and shiny into her palm.
It's a blue bead with a large hole through the centre, and as it rolls in Teyla's palm the light catches it and colour streaks across its surface like it's an oil slick. She passes it to Rodney, who holds it up and turns it, marvelling at the shine and shimmer.
"You got me jewellery?" he asks, but since it's pretty cool looking he leaves out most of the snark.
Teyla smiles and heaves her very pregnant body onto the stool next to his.
"It is not jewellery, Rodney, it is a ramar bead. Every Athosian child who reaches their first year is given one of these as a talisman of health and longevity. My people have practised this tradition for many, many years, and most still believe in the power of the ramar to protect the wearer." Teyla crosses her hands over her stomach. "I was having one made for my son," she adds, "and commissioned one for you as well. I thought that you might appreciate a bit of extra protection, even if it comes from a…humble source."
"So this little bead is supposed to protect me?" Rodney asks.
Teyla tilts her mouth up. "That is the belief, yes."
"Hmm," he replies. "And I, what, carry it around with me?"
"I had thought, perhaps..."
Teyla slips her fingers into the collar of Rodney's shirt and lifts the metal chain around his neck. Rodney pulls it over his head but his fingers are too blunt to force the ball chain open, so Teyla does it for him and slides the ramar bead on to nestle against his expedition dog tags.
They watch the bead sparkle for a moment, then Teyla levers herself off the stool.
"I hope it works for you Rodney," she says.
"I - yeah. Thank you."
"You are very welcome. I will see you later," she says. "Have a wonderful day."
With a brief hug and a kiss to his cheek she leaves the labs. Rodney feels an odd and distracting warmth in his chest for several hours afterwards
Several hours later, when Radek arrives with a plate of cake and an industrial-sized box of white board markers (in 8 different colours: the standard black, red, green and blue, with an exotic side-order of orange, pink, purple and yellow) which he dumps on Rodney's work table with the comment, "These are so that you can point out our stupidity in a rainbow of colours," Rodney doesn't even snark back, he just grins and begins assigning each colour its own special degree of vitriol.
--
Sam stops by just before lunch, cake in tow, and plops a gift bag in front of his monitor.
"Happy birthday McKay!" she says, and Rodney glares at her.
"This bag has lemons on it," he complains, but she just grins.
"I know, that's why I got it. You should see what I put inside."
Rodney groans but opens the bag anyway. "Ah, wonderful - let's see, lemon pudding cups, orange-flavoured candies, vodka with lime - gee, you shouldn't have, Sam."
She grins wider. "I know."
"No, really, you shouldn't have," he grumbles.
Sam claps him on the shoulder. "Your real present is on the server, in a file called 'citrus'. Enjoy!" She leaves the lab with a pleased grin on her face.
"It better not be a folder full of pictures of things I'm allergic to!" he yells after her, dumping the bag of citrus-related gifts on the floor with one hand and typing with the other. A few seconds later, he's opened Sam's folder.
"Oh my god!" Rodney cries. "Are these specs for an Asgard teleportation device?!"
--
It's dinner time when Ronon comes by the lab with meatloaf, some Pegasus-variety vegetables, and another slice of cake.
"McKay."
Rodney blinks blearily up at him. "Um. Hi? Yes?"
Ronon looms over Rodney's workstation. "It's your birthday."
"Yes, yes. It is. I'm looking at what Sam got me, it's -"
"I have a present for you."
Rodney stops mid-explanation. "You do?"
Ronon shrugs and hands him a cloth-wrapped package he had been hiding somewhere on his person. "Open it."
Rodney eyes the gift warily but unfolds the cloth, revealing an intricate leather strap with loops and buckles and all sorts of other complicated-looking attachments.
"This is a lovely...belt?"
Ronon snorts and takes it from him. "It's an ankle strap. It holds three different kinds of knives." He demonstrates by pulling several out of his hair and sliding them into the small loops of the strap. "It attaches like this," he explains, grabbing Rodney's foot and buckling it on.
"Ah," Rodney replies. "So that's how it works." He rotates his ankle, testing the flex of the leather and the tightness of the buckles. "It's more comfortable than it looks," Rodney admits. Ronon just shrugs and reclaims his knives.
"Thank you," Rodney adds. "I hope I don't ever truly need it, but - "
"Never know when a knife might come in handy," Ronon finishes. He punches Rodney in the arm (hard enough to make Rodney's fingers tingle) and then places one warm palm on the back of his neck.
"Happy birthday," he says. And then, as an after-thought: "Old man."
--
Jennifer comes by a few hours before New Lantean midnight with coffee and yet more cake.
"What are you working on?" she asks and leans on the table.
"I'm just figuring out how to integrate advanced Asgard beaming technology into Atlantis's systems." He grins smugly. "You know, the usual."
Jennifer snorts and straightens. "Well, I'll leave you to it, then."
"Oh," Rodney says.
"Oh?"
"Well, I thought that - you know, that you might...have something for me?"
She gestures at the cake and coffee. "Sure!"
"Oh," Rodney says again.
Her eyes widen in comprehension. "Oh, no! No, I don't have a gift for you, I'm sorry! It's just, I only really got to know you after the last requisition forms went out, and anyway I have no idea what you like, so I wouldn't have known what to get you in any case."
Rodney looks uncomfortable, and Jennifer is flushed with embarrassment, but then she points at him and says, "Oh!"
"Oh?"
"Do you like chocolate? What am I talking about, everyone likes chocolate - Snickers? Hershey? Milk Duds? I can get you anything you want. I have a source."
Rodney's eyes light up. "A chocolate source?"
"Yep!"
"Well, how about you tell me the source and we cut out the middle man?"
Jennifer laughs but shakes her head. "Sorry, no can do. I've been sworn to secrecy."
"Hm," Rodney says, "all right, fine. How about some Cadbury products? Any kind but the Fruit & Nut bar."
She nods in acquiescence. "No problem. I'll bring them to you tomorrow." With a jaunty wave she leaves, and Rodney waits until she’s out of sight before pulling out his life signs detector and following her, hoping she’ll lead him to the secret stash of chocolate.
--
An hour and a half, two check-ins with the infirmary, and a snack in the mess hall later, Jennifer finally knocks on Chuck’s door and barters with him for the chocolate.
That fiend! Rodney thinks. What ever happened to Canadian solidarity?
--
The clock has just ticked over to the next day when Rodney arrives back at his quarters, four gifts and one tradeable secret richer. He thinks the door open and is just about to raise the lights when they come on by themselves, softly illuminating the room.
John is sprawled across Rodney’s bed, feet hanging off the end and laptop balanced on his stomach.
“Hey,” John says in greeting.
“What are you doing in my quarters?” Rodney asks as he dumps his armful of gifts onto his desk and pulls the LSD out of his pocket.
John shrugs and closes the laptop. “I was waiting for you.”
“But why are you in my quarters? Can’t this wait until tomorrow?”
“It is tomorrow, Rodney,” John replies with a roll of his eyes. “I wanted to wish you ‘happy birthday’, but you came home kind of late.”
Rodney shucks his jacket and drapes it over the back of a chair. “I was in the labs all day, Sheppard - you could have stopped by.”
John shrugs again, this time sitting up and balancing the laptop on a pile of physics journals. “I wanted to give you your present too.”
“You could have brought it to the lab like everyone else did,” Rodney argues.
“Not this present.”
Rodney eyes John curiously, looks around the room, but he doesn’t see anything even remotely resembling a gift. “Okay, what is it, then?”
“You’re going to like this,” John assures him, and pulls a rock out of his pocket. He holds it like a skipping stone, but instead of setting it loose with a flick of his wrist, he straightens his arm and offers it out to Rodney, who stares at it in incomprehension.
“I don’t get it, Sheppard. It’s a rock.”
John grins. “Not just any rock, Rodney.”
Then the rock bleats and whirrs and the next thing Rodney knows there’s a pale green, three-dimensional model of a puddle jumper spinning in the air in front of him. “How did you -” Rodney asks, but then the image changes and it’s an F-302, then a Blackhawk, then Atlantis itself.
“They’re schematics,” John explains. “It’ll show you whatever ones you’ve seen before. Here, try.”
The display blinks off and the device clicks and groans as Rodney steps closer and takes it from John’s hand. When it touches Rodney’s skin he feels an instant connection, and after a bit of protest on the device’s part, it displays the schematics for the Daedalus, the Orion and the ill-fated Korolev in rapid succession.
“This is brilliant!” he exclaims, and thinks of Midway Station, Asuras, a Wraith hive ship.
“Pretty neat, huh?” John asks, and Rodney looks up at him, about to tell him exactly how neat he thinks it is, and that’s when he realizes how close they’re standing, that they’re in each other’s personal space. John is staring at him intently so Rodney stares back, through the green light particles of a Wraith dart, and then something shifts.
John leans forward, touches Rodney’s elbow with the pads of his fingers. “Happy birthday, buddy,” he says, mouth so close to Rodney’s that he can feel John’s warm breath on his face.
“Thanks,” Rodney replies, and closes the last few inches to meet John’s lips, slide their noses against each other.
He feels John’s smile against his mouth.
In Rodney’s hand, the device displays a glittering image of the solar system.
14,610 Days (40 Years) + 1 by aphelant
~2000 words, G
It's Rodney's fortieth birthday and he's told his friends in no uncertain terms that they are not to throw him any sort of party. He has a sixth sense for these types of things, he warns them, and he will know if there are balloons or streamers - or, god forbid, punch bowls - anywhere in the city, and he will never, ever forgive them.
Presents are of course expected, as well as cake, which should be delivered to him in the labs periodically throughout the day, with the understanding that it will not be shared. With anyone.
His friends, wisely, respect his wishes.
--
The first present arrives with his morning coffee. Teyla slides a slice of cake ("Oh my god, you guys got me Black Forest? I love you.") onto his desk and places a tiny satchel next to it.
"Happy birthday Rodney," she greets him, and he hums a response around a forkful of cake.
"Wha'd oo geh meh?" he asks. Teyla gives him The Eyebrow but opens the little satchel and pours something small and shiny into her palm.
It's a blue bead with a large hole through the centre, and as it rolls in Teyla's palm the light catches it and colour streaks across its surface like it's an oil slick. She passes it to Rodney, who holds it up and turns it, marvelling at the shine and shimmer.
"You got me jewellery?" he asks, but since it's pretty cool looking he leaves out most of the snark.
Teyla smiles and heaves her very pregnant body onto the stool next to his.
"It is not jewellery, Rodney, it is a ramar bead. Every Athosian child who reaches their first year is given one of these as a talisman of health and longevity. My people have practised this tradition for many, many years, and most still believe in the power of the ramar to protect the wearer." Teyla crosses her hands over her stomach. "I was having one made for my son," she adds, "and commissioned one for you as well. I thought that you might appreciate a bit of extra protection, even if it comes from a…humble source."
"So this little bead is supposed to protect me?" Rodney asks.
Teyla tilts her mouth up. "That is the belief, yes."
"Hmm," he replies. "And I, what, carry it around with me?"
"I had thought, perhaps..."
Teyla slips her fingers into the collar of Rodney's shirt and lifts the metal chain around his neck. Rodney pulls it over his head but his fingers are too blunt to force the ball chain open, so Teyla does it for him and slides the ramar bead on to nestle against his expedition dog tags.
They watch the bead sparkle for a moment, then Teyla levers herself off the stool.
"I hope it works for you Rodney," she says.
"I - yeah. Thank you."
"You are very welcome. I will see you later," she says. "Have a wonderful day."
With a brief hug and a kiss to his cheek she leaves the labs. Rodney feels an odd and distracting warmth in his chest for several hours afterwards
Several hours later, when Radek arrives with a plate of cake and an industrial-sized box of white board markers (in 8 different colours: the standard black, red, green and blue, with an exotic side-order of orange, pink, purple and yellow) which he dumps on Rodney's work table with the comment, "These are so that you can point out our stupidity in a rainbow of colours," Rodney doesn't even snark back, he just grins and begins assigning each colour its own special degree of vitriol.
--
Sam stops by just before lunch, cake in tow, and plops a gift bag in front of his monitor.
"Happy birthday McKay!" she says, and Rodney glares at her.
"This bag has lemons on it," he complains, but she just grins.
"I know, that's why I got it. You should see what I put inside."
Rodney groans but opens the bag anyway. "Ah, wonderful - let's see, lemon pudding cups, orange-flavoured candies, vodka with lime - gee, you shouldn't have, Sam."
She grins wider. "I know."
"No, really, you shouldn't have," he grumbles.
Sam claps him on the shoulder. "Your real present is on the server, in a file called 'citrus'. Enjoy!" She leaves the lab with a pleased grin on her face.
"It better not be a folder full of pictures of things I'm allergic to!" he yells after her, dumping the bag of citrus-related gifts on the floor with one hand and typing with the other. A few seconds later, he's opened Sam's folder.
"Oh my god!" Rodney cries. "Are these specs for an Asgard teleportation device?!"
--
It's dinner time when Ronon comes by the lab with meatloaf, some Pegasus-variety vegetables, and another slice of cake.
"McKay."
Rodney blinks blearily up at him. "Um. Hi? Yes?"
Ronon looms over Rodney's workstation. "It's your birthday."
"Yes, yes. It is. I'm looking at what Sam got me, it's -"
"I have a present for you."
Rodney stops mid-explanation. "You do?"
Ronon shrugs and hands him a cloth-wrapped package he had been hiding somewhere on his person. "Open it."
Rodney eyes the gift warily but unfolds the cloth, revealing an intricate leather strap with loops and buckles and all sorts of other complicated-looking attachments.
"This is a lovely...belt?"
Ronon snorts and takes it from him. "It's an ankle strap. It holds three different kinds of knives." He demonstrates by pulling several out of his hair and sliding them into the small loops of the strap. "It attaches like this," he explains, grabbing Rodney's foot and buckling it on.
"Ah," Rodney replies. "So that's how it works." He rotates his ankle, testing the flex of the leather and the tightness of the buckles. "It's more comfortable than it looks," Rodney admits. Ronon just shrugs and reclaims his knives.
"Thank you," Rodney adds. "I hope I don't ever truly need it, but - "
"Never know when a knife might come in handy," Ronon finishes. He punches Rodney in the arm (hard enough to make Rodney's fingers tingle) and then places one warm palm on the back of his neck.
"Happy birthday," he says. And then, as an after-thought: "Old man."
--
Jennifer comes by a few hours before New Lantean midnight with coffee and yet more cake.
"What are you working on?" she asks and leans on the table.
"I'm just figuring out how to integrate advanced Asgard beaming technology into Atlantis's systems." He grins smugly. "You know, the usual."
Jennifer snorts and straightens. "Well, I'll leave you to it, then."
"Oh," Rodney says.
"Oh?"
"Well, I thought that - you know, that you might...have something for me?"
She gestures at the cake and coffee. "Sure!"
"Oh," Rodney says again.
Her eyes widen in comprehension. "Oh, no! No, I don't have a gift for you, I'm sorry! It's just, I only really got to know you after the last requisition forms went out, and anyway I have no idea what you like, so I wouldn't have known what to get you in any case."
Rodney looks uncomfortable, and Jennifer is flushed with embarrassment, but then she points at him and says, "Oh!"
"Oh?"
"Do you like chocolate? What am I talking about, everyone likes chocolate - Snickers? Hershey? Milk Duds? I can get you anything you want. I have a source."
Rodney's eyes light up. "A chocolate source?"
"Yep!"
"Well, how about you tell me the source and we cut out the middle man?"
Jennifer laughs but shakes her head. "Sorry, no can do. I've been sworn to secrecy."
"Hm," Rodney says, "all right, fine. How about some Cadbury products? Any kind but the Fruit & Nut bar."
She nods in acquiescence. "No problem. I'll bring them to you tomorrow." With a jaunty wave she leaves, and Rodney waits until she’s out of sight before pulling out his life signs detector and following her, hoping she’ll lead him to the secret stash of chocolate.
--
An hour and a half, two check-ins with the infirmary, and a snack in the mess hall later, Jennifer finally knocks on Chuck’s door and barters with him for the chocolate.
That fiend! Rodney thinks. What ever happened to Canadian solidarity?
--
The clock has just ticked over to the next day when Rodney arrives back at his quarters, four gifts and one tradeable secret richer. He thinks the door open and is just about to raise the lights when they come on by themselves, softly illuminating the room.
John is sprawled across Rodney’s bed, feet hanging off the end and laptop balanced on his stomach.
“Hey,” John says in greeting.
“What are you doing in my quarters?” Rodney asks as he dumps his armful of gifts onto his desk and pulls the LSD out of his pocket.
John shrugs and closes the laptop. “I was waiting for you.”
“But why are you in my quarters? Can’t this wait until tomorrow?”
“It is tomorrow, Rodney,” John replies with a roll of his eyes. “I wanted to wish you ‘happy birthday’, but you came home kind of late.”
Rodney shucks his jacket and drapes it over the back of a chair. “I was in the labs all day, Sheppard - you could have stopped by.”
John shrugs again, this time sitting up and balancing the laptop on a pile of physics journals. “I wanted to give you your present too.”
“You could have brought it to the lab like everyone else did,” Rodney argues.
“Not this present.”
Rodney eyes John curiously, looks around the room, but he doesn’t see anything even remotely resembling a gift. “Okay, what is it, then?”
“You’re going to like this,” John assures him, and pulls a rock out of his pocket. He holds it like a skipping stone, but instead of setting it loose with a flick of his wrist, he straightens his arm and offers it out to Rodney, who stares at it in incomprehension.
“I don’t get it, Sheppard. It’s a rock.”
John grins. “Not just any rock, Rodney.”
Then the rock bleats and whirrs and the next thing Rodney knows there’s a pale green, three-dimensional model of a puddle jumper spinning in the air in front of him. “How did you -” Rodney asks, but then the image changes and it’s an F-302, then a Blackhawk, then Atlantis itself.
“They’re schematics,” John explains. “It’ll show you whatever ones you’ve seen before. Here, try.”
The display blinks off and the device clicks and groans as Rodney steps closer and takes it from John’s hand. When it touches Rodney’s skin he feels an instant connection, and after a bit of protest on the device’s part, it displays the schematics for the Daedalus, the Orion and the ill-fated Korolev in rapid succession.
“This is brilliant!” he exclaims, and thinks of Midway Station, Asuras, a Wraith hive ship.
“Pretty neat, huh?” John asks, and Rodney looks up at him, about to tell him exactly how neat he thinks it is, and that’s when he realizes how close they’re standing, that they’re in each other’s personal space. John is staring at him intently so Rodney stares back, through the green light particles of a Wraith dart, and then something shifts.
John leans forward, touches Rodney’s elbow with the pads of his fingers. “Happy birthday, buddy,” he says, mouth so close to Rodney’s that he can feel John’s warm breath on his face.
“Thanks,” Rodney replies, and closes the last few inches to meet John’s lips, slide their noses against each other.
He feels John’s smile against his mouth.
In Rodney’s hand, the device displays a glittering image of the solar system.