"five kisses that haven't happened yet," by shaenie and fiercelydreamed (comfort challenge)
Title: IV. Five kisses that haven't happened yet.
Authors: shaenie and fiercelydreamed
Summary: At least 100% of your RDA of makeouts. With salt.
Details: ~7,400 words, ranging up to R. Various pairings.
Warnings: Fluctuates wildly along the angst--schmoop spectrum. Spoilers for S5.
Notes: Installments 16-20 of the 25 Things series (which isn't linear -- each set stands fully independent of the others). Installments I, II, and III are here, here, and here. Major thanks to thingswithwings for quite rightfully kicking our asses in beta, and to celli for last minute "omg does this make any sense" duty.
1. When the databurst comes in with the news from Earth, Rodney will do the only thing he can think of. He will have known Sam for more than a decade, and will long since have discarded any hopes he might once have harbored, but he will still love her in his way. He'll have been in Pegasus, with a team of his own, for long enough to understand grief. He'll go to her quarters within three minutes of reading the email, and she'll let him in with wet, red eyes and her face will be so shattered and lost that he'll forget all about being awkward or professional or anything else that doesn't immediately pertain to sinking down on the edge of her bed and cradling her against his chest while she sobs and shakes and tells him that it's her fault, her fault for not being there.
He'll find himself murmuring idiotic nonsense into her hair and telling her without shame how scared he is all the time, how terrifying he finds it to be a part of something so fragile, admitting in a hoarse, aching whisper that he knows who he is because of the people who love him, that he has nightmares in which he had never come to Atlantis, never learned to be a better man, never discovered what it meant to not be alone.
She'll calm slowly as he talks, her hands fisted into the material of his shirt and her face pressed unselfconsciously into the crook of his neck. He'll suspect for nearly an hour that she's fallen asleep, and when he is finally sure he'll shift her as gently as he can until she's curled into herself on her side, and he'll tuck the blankets up around her chin. When he straightens, she'll open her eyes briefly and catch her hand in his. He'll squeeze her hand gently and smile as well as he can (while his chest aches hollowly for her), and she'll press her lips against his knuckles and murmur, "Thanks, Rodney."
He'll whisper, "Any time, Sam," and think the lights down low for her.
When he leaves, he'll go in search of his team, and he won't be surprised to find them together.
2. After a rare, totally successful mission, Teyla will catch John's wrist and arch a brow at him, lips quirked knowingly. "You will baby-sit for me tonight, John," she will say, and John will nod dumbly because there's no graceful way to get out of it.
It'll be only the third time that John has had Torren all night, and he'll be feeling fairly pleased with himself and his baby-handling abilities until Torren starts to cry. And doesn't stop.
He'll cry while John tries to give him a bottle, and while John changes his diaper, and while John puts him in his baby sling and jogs halfway around the city with him. He'll cry through John's attempts to soothe him with Johnny Cash, and though he'll settle into restless, unhappy whimpers during the Puddle Jumper ride John authorizes himself to give, John himself will actually start dozing at the controls after two hours and be forced to return to the city.
He'll howl while John tries to enlist Rodney's aid, an attempt which will be soundly ("No, no, no, a whole world of no, Sheppard. Do you know where I am right now? There are two live electrical conduits inches -- mere inches -- above my head, and I'm standing in a puddle. The power bypass conduit grid is no place for a baby!") rebuffed.
He'll shriek during John's desperate attempt at a Hail Mary, consisting of actually singing a lullaby himself.
Then John will call Teyla.
Teyla will answer, first breathless and with laughter ringing in her voice, which will devolve quickly into impatience when John attempts to return her son to her. She'll end the call with the words, "Suck it up, John," delivered in such sweet tones that John, totally against his will, will find it funny and slightly charming.
Torren will scream for another fifteen minutes, during which John will actually make himself slightly motion-sick attempting to do the bounce-on-the-hip thing he's seen Teyla, Ronon, and even Rodney accomplish with apparent ease, usually while doing something else entirely at the same time.
Ronon will let himself into John's quarters and look at both of them for several long seconds, and shake his head. "Woolsey's got the kind of music he likes," Ronon will tell John, amused and totally unsympathetic, before he flees to locations less detrimental to eardrums and sanity.
"It's three in the goddamned morning, Ronon!" John will call helplessly after him, and Torren will go momentarily silent and blink up at John, his eyes huge and wet and miserable, before taking a deep breath and howling some more.
John will somehow find himself pounding on his boss's door at fuck-off in the morning, and will be so totally gobsmacked when Woolsey answers wearing polka-dotted pajamas and a velvet robe that looks like something out of A Christmas Carol that he'll forget to attempt an explanation for his presence.
Woolsey will scoop Torren out of his arms without John having to say a word, and John will stand in his doorway for several seconds, inarticulately grateful. Woolsey will croon something soft and nonsensical into Torren's little red face while he makes a beeline for the most impressive stereo-system John has seen since he left Earth.
Within seconds the room will be filled with the unmistakable pounding sounds of Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries."
"You're kidding me," John will sigh, but Torren will already be rapt and silent in the crook of one of Woolsey's arms, and Woolsey will be conducting with utter, unselfconscious verve with his free hand.
John will sink down on one of the long, low sofas and watch in amazement as Woolsey flips to something else before the last strains of Ride even sound, and fuck John if it isn't the opening music for Star Wars.
John will think: This is what he likes? And then he'll think: Woolsey knows what Torren likes?
He'll fall asleep sitting up on Woolsey's sofa.
John will wake up sometime later with Woolsey's hand on his shoulder, and he'll get up to accept a soundly-sleeping Torren as Woolsey gingerly hands him over.
Woolsey will dip his head to press his lips to Torren's silky hair as though completely unaware of John standing there holding him; his face will look oddly defenseless without his glasses, his eyes soft. Torren's small face will be sweetly lax with sleep. It won't occur to John to move away until Woolsey tucks the blanket up around Torren's little chin and takes a step back.
Woolsey will smile down at Torren, and then raise his eyes to John; he'll look almost surprised to see him there. "Colonel," Woolsey will murmur, voice barely more than a whisper. For the first time, Woolsey will look just as uncomfortable as John feels. "Goodnight."
"Thanks," John will whisper back awkwardly, sincerely. Woolsey will lift his chin slightly, his expression smoothing into something easier, and he will give John a nod.
They will never talk about it, though the next time it happens John will manage to leave with a sleeping Torren and all three Star Wars soundtracks.
3. It will take almost eleven months after they escape from the (other) Replicators before the five of them -- John, Rodney, Teyla, Ronon, and Elizabeth -- can finally stop running. By then the galaxy will be in the throes of the Hybrid War, societies buckling, alliances breaking down, and because she can't just sit there and watch it happen, Elizabeth will contact Atlantis.
To her surprise, they'll let her come. The invitation will extend to all of them, in fact, but Ronon will be the only one who joins her, and only then because he won't let her go alone. John, Rodney, and Teyla will choose to stay behind on Callerie, and Elizabeth won't press them for an explanation. She won't need to.
It will be the first time she's ever set foot in the city, and it will go better than she expects, and it will be worse.
At the end, there will be an hour before they're due to gate back, and she'll excuse herself to the mezzanine over the south pier to watch the dual moons rise in the green-tinged dusk, Ronon and her Marine escorts hanging back in the corridor to give her some time alone with Atlantis. She'll rest her elbows on the railing and angle her face toward the night breeze, letting memories that aren't hers circle around her. When she hears footsteps approaching, she'll take a steadying breath before turning, and Radek Zelenka will step up to the railing beside her.
She'll give him the best smile she can manage, and he'll dip his head to acknowledge it, and they'll both look out over the ocean. She will spend ten minutes braced for small talk, or questions, and when she finally realizes there aren't going to be any, her back and neck will loosen with relief. He will simply stand there in silence with her, and though she won't recall him ever having done so with the real Elizabeth, it will be somehow much better than standing there alone.
Her hour will almost be up when he finally speaks. "You are going back soon."
It won't be a question. She'll answer it anyway. "In just a few minutes, I think. I promised the other three we'd return before local sunset, and I think it'd be best if we weren't late."
"Ah," he'll say, "of course." He'll go quiet again. "Will you be back?"
"I don't know," she'll tell him, after a pause of her own. It'll be the truth.
When Radek turns, the city lights will spill over his profile as he looks back towards the central spires. "The city misses you." The words will be low, almost free of intonation, but his accent will stretch out the sibilants until they're soft around the edges. He'll meet her eyes as he says, "We all miss you."
The strained feeling that's been living in her throat all day will tighten abruptly and break, and she'll have to swallow hard against it. "Radek," she'll start, but before she can say it -- just how badly she misses all of them, all of this, this life that was never hers to begin with -- he'll step in close, his fingers coming up soft and unexpectedly warm to cup her face, and he'll kiss her, long and adamant and sweet.
He'll pull back after a few seconds, fingers still woven in her hair, breath hot against her mouth, but her eyes won't open until he releases her and steps away. She'll study him wordlessly -- his straight shoulders and messy hair, the subtle angles of his face -- and he'll lift one fine-boned hand and push his glasses up the bridge of his nose, twin moons reflected in the lenses. "Yes," he'll say, as though wrapping up an explanation. "I thought you should know." He'll walk backwards for two steps before turning and following the curve of the tower out of sight.
Elizabeth will spend her last minutes on Atlantis on the south pier mezzanine, her back to the railing, face tipped up toward the central spires. On Callerie, Rodney, Teyla, and John will be waiting when she and Ronon come through the event horizon; Teyla will put a hand on her shoulder, and Elizabeth will break unexpectedly into tears.
None of them will press her for an explanation. They won't need to.
4. When the SGC transfers Laura back to Atlantis, they'll give "rotation of strategic personnel" as their justification, but after reading the mission overviews for the intervening three years, she'll suspect that the expedition has dropped below minimum acceptable levels on whatever metric the IOA uses for girl power. (Gender balance among ranking officers and department heads, fine, whatever.) Her actual posting will time things so that she'll just miss crossing paths with Carson 2.0 as he comes back through (for which she'll be really guiltily grateful, because finding out your ex-boyfriend got blown up fucking sucks, but finding out there's a clone running around whose memories don't actually include the break-up? -- awkward).
She will have forgotten that walking through the gate from Earth to Atlantis somehow never feels the same as walking through the gate anywhere else.
Because it'll still be the fucking Pegasus galaxy, she won't even make it past the 'gateroom meet-and-greet with Woolsey (who, starchiness aside, will actually come off as less of a bureaucratic chair-warmer than she'd been expecting) before an anthropologist crossing the event horizon from M7X-whatever will fumble and drop some large pottery globe. As Laura stoops to catch it, it'll shatter and send a puff of pink dust up into her face.
"Fuckmonkies!" she'll shout, or try to. Maybe much later she'll be grateful that the coughing fit kept her from yelling anything that patently ridiculous in front of her new boss and a whole shift of the gate crew. At the time, she'll be too distracted by the way that her sense of kinesthetics is dispersing, blurring at the skin and sending numbness crawling inward, because not again, Christ, please, not fucking again.
By the time they get the stretcher into the infirmary, Laura's body will feel like a cloud of smoke, and they'll have strapped her down because she'll be fighting violently to get free so she can find her goddamn fingers. A brunette in medical yellow will appear above her to grab her face with two gloved hands and snap, "Just stay still, we're going to help you--"
Laura will have just enough coherence left to think shit, why do they always hire the cute ones before she passes out.
When she wakes up, they'll have a mirror there to prove she's still in her own body, even if she can't tell that with her eyes closed. The new doc will introduce herself as Dr. Jennifer Keller, tossing that flyaway hair back over her shoulder (jeez, Laura could eat her up with a spoon if her hands worked well enough to hold one). Then she'll launch into the standard round of good news, bad news.
Good news: blah blah biochemical technobabble, it isn't permanent. Bad news: blah blah biochemical technobabble, they don't have a rapid way to reverse it. Good news: animated chart of her CNS system, her body should gradually break the compound down if she stays mildly active for the interim. Bad news: rueful look with head tipped sideways, for her safety they'll need her to stay in the infirmary until her proprioception's back to normal.
Good news: the PT Geoff will be good, all-American, fireman-charity-calendar-style eyecandy; his idea of therapeutic treatment for someone who can't tell where her limbs end will be dice, card games, and velcro Nerf darts. When Laura lets it slip that she thinks the new chief medical officer is very Cameron on House meets Doogie Howser, M.D. , it'll take him less than forty-five minutes to manufacture a reason why he really has to do that massive stack of paperwork right now and if Dr. Keller could just sit in with Laura for, like, two hours tops--
"Um, there are simulations running, but I guess I can keep an eye on them from here--" she'll say, looking with some bewilderment between Geoff, Laura, her abandoned laptop, and the contents of what look like a YMCA rec room closet strewn out across three medical carts and Laura's cot.
"Make her show you the bar trick," Geoff will tell Laura, and that'll be the last she sees of him for the rest of the afternoon.
Things Laura will learn in the fifteen days total it takes the last of the dust to burn out of her nerve endings:
Jennifer is smart. Jennifer is funny. Jennifer speaks with a Minnesotan accent that gets infinitely more hilarious when she demonstrates how a med-school ex-boyfriend taught her to swear in Norwegian. Jennifer had an almost-thing with Ronon last year that fizzled out when she found out about Satedan formal courtship. Jennifer had an almost-thing with Rodney this year that she broke off when she realized the emotional age difference was more of a problem than the actual one, and also when she realized that dating Rodney McKay made the military commander of Atlantis wander around the outer halls like a kicked puppy. Thanks to an internship working with kids with terminal illnesses, Jennifer can do an amazing range of stupid human tricks. Jennifer bitches out the computer systems when her simulations won't cooperate and she's forgotten that anyone's in earshot. Jennifer can trade sexual double-entendres like a sorority girl, but flirtation when she's not expecting it will make her blush like she's fourteen.
After Laura is released from the infirmary to the quarters she hadn't gotten to set foot in yet, she'll apply lip balm and zip her jacket down just a little every day before she goes back for the follow-up scans and toxicity screenings. She'll bribe Horton, who still owes her from that thing that time, for the duty roster. When their mutual day off comes up, Laura will drag Jennifer out from the infirmary on the (totally made-up) excuse that she doesn't really know that many people left on base that well and wants someone to show her the new steam-room/tropical botany facility they found after she left in year three.
When Laura strips down in the threshold and pads over naked to the sort-of-palm tree, she'll catch Jennifer watching her with startled eyes as she hoists herself up one-handed onto the high, curved platform and twists to drop back into the sculpted seat, legs just a little splayed.
Within a week, Laura will have mastered the latest iteration of the Atlantis barter economy well enough to get a big jug of the Athosian honey brew, and she will manfully wait another ten days before inviting Jennifer over for balcony beer-pong.
Jennifer, the lush, will turn out to have much higher alcohol tolerance than Laura does, but Laura has far and away more eye-hand coordination, so they'll end up equally hammered. And when Laura chivalrously accompanies Jennifer on the drunken stumble back to her quarters, she'll lean in just long enough to be sure that Jennifer really, really wants that goodnight kiss, and then she'll smile and push off the door frame to make her swaying way back to the transporter.
Jennifer will taste amazing, pressed flat on her back on Laura's sheets with her legs tossed over Laura's back and her thigh muscles clenching against Laura's shoulders, clit hot and full under Laura's tongue. She'll be breathy and talkative, her hair will feel like corn-silk when it's drenched with sweat, and she'll have this way of gripping Laura's hips and shoving up so Laura can straddle her thigh and rub off against the angle of her hipbone that will make Laura's eyes absolutely roll back in her head.
Two months after she gets to Atlantis, Laura'll be in her kitchenette filling two mugs with that Yehailan tea-coffee-cocoa, and Jennifer will wander over in Laura's robe to sit in one of the little chairs, bare feet tucked under her. "Is it weird that I've got his job now?" she'll ask, and bite her lip as she sweeps her hair back behind one ear. "I mean, I know you two broke up before he died, but still. You're back, and he's gone, and now your -- girlfriend," and jeez, Laura'll think as she pours the creamer in and tries not to smile, she'll never get tired of the way Jennifer blushes when she says that, "is chief medical officer. Again. Is that weird for you?"
Laura will set one mug down on the table and take a thoughtful sip of the other before putting it down too. She'll brace her hand on the back of Jennifer's chair and kiss her slowly, tongue licking the edge of her lip, long enough to be sure the smoke-and-chocolate taste of the drink will come through. In the window behind them, the second of the two moons will be setting.
"This whole galaxy is weird for me," she'll murmur into Jennifer's mouth, settling one knee outside of Jennifer's thighs so she can lean in a little closer on the second kiss. "I roll with it."
5. They'll be flying toward the compound on Feldra at the fastest speed that won't break the sound barrier when a horrifying beam of white light will burst out of the central tower and split the sky wide open.
John will lose his grip on everything else, washed away in a rush of horror and fear and rage, and the Puddle Jumper will falter, stuttering in the sky.
"John," Teyla will snap, and John will somehow get them on the ground sans fireball. He will do it without once wrenching his eyes from the blinding column ahead of them, the energy pouring out of the Feldrid Machine.
The beam will burn with ferocious beauty, transfixing for the twenty-six seconds it lasts before it flickers, weakens, and abruptly winks out.
"Rodney," Teyla will scream, voice breaking and awful, and John will hear bitter understanding in it, knowledge that he doesn't want and refuses to believe.
"No." The word won't be loud, but there'll be enough force behind it to scour John's throat. Then he'll say, "Ronon, you're on our six; kill anything that moves," and they won't argue with him.
The neutralization of the hostile contingent on P41-G99 will be the worst thing that John has ever done.
He'll duck into the compound, P90 booming, and he'll know before the first body hits the ground that this will be the worst thing he has ever done. He'll understand clearly that he is going to be responsible for the worst thing his team has ever had to do.
He won't care.
They'll barely look at each other beyond what's necessary to maintain a tactical formation. After one glance shows John the bright sheen of tears cutting their way down Ronon's face, John will know that he can't look back. Not if they're going to finish this.
The screams will echo in the vaulted corridors, and he'll find himself grinning with fury and spattered with blood. He won't feel pity and he won't show mercy; every scream will burn like acid and knot in his stomach and make him glad.
They will rip through the compound like a bitter wind, leaving nothing behind them.
When there is nothing else left, no one else left, they will find a tunnel with a door like a bank vault. The thumbprint of one of the dead Feldrid will be enough to get the door open, and behind it will be the cold, blank hulk of the machine. Next to him, Teyla will press her hand to her mouth at the stink of ozone, of the faint tang of burnt hair and blood.
The clear walls of the central cylinder will be smudged with the black ghosts of its fuel. Superimposed over the old, faint shadows will be a newer one, its edges indefinite but for one nearly-opaque mark the size of a man's palm, and John's vision will crack. He'll raise his P90, wanting nothing, nothing but to kill it, annihilate it and everyone that had ever touched it, and he'll cry out with baffled rage when Ronon shouts something and catches the barrel in his fist, jerking it off-target.
The report John will eventually write will clearly outline how a covert rescue mission to recover Dr. McKay had morphed into the complete eradication of an estimated enemy contingent of at least thirty people, the total destruction of the Feldrid compound and the eventual obliteration of the Feldrid machine. John will scrupulously include every pertinent, damning detail. It will provide basic information on the Machine itself, and reference Dr. McKay's initial report on the technical details of the device. It will specifically cite Dr. McKay's absolute refusal to have anything to do with making the Feldrid machine operational, and his strong recommendation that Atlantis have nothing to do with the Feldrid, full stop. It will include Dr. Weir's notes, entered into the database after SGA-1 had returned from the first contact mission to Feldra, indicating that no one with the ATA gene should ever return to P41-G99.
The report won't say anything about the shocked revulsion on Rodney's face when the Feldrid had shown him the technical drawings for the machine and asked if he could fix it. It won't mention that Rodney had invoked a code five, emergency return to base, or capture the bitter curve of his mouth while he argued with Elizabeth, then Carter, and later even with Woolsey, for Atlantis to do whatever it took to take "that thing" out of the hands of the Feldrid, take it out of the hands of everyone, and "blow the fucking thing into atoms."
But those things will lie heavy in John's mind as he writes it. The report will be as complete as he can make it in every other way, accepting the totality of the responsibility for P41-G99.
The only thing that he will not put down on paper is that he had known what he was doing every goddamned step of the way.
Teyla's hands on him won't stop him. Neither will Ronon, straining to keep the gun out of play, and shouting, "Sheppard, wait, John--"
It will take Rodney rising from a crouch behind the machine, dirty and bloodied, his hands full of an indecipherable skein of sparking wires, to make John stop.
Rodney will be hollow-eyed and pale, but otherwise apparently unharmed. There will be two people, both in uniforms, lying limp on the ground behind him.
"Jesus," he'll say. "You look like extras in a Sam Raimi movie."
Teyla will let out a sharp, glad cry and the three of them will stagger forward, a tangle of uncoordinated movement, and they'll crash together like the tide meeting the shore. John's gun will clatter to the floor unnoticed, and Ronon will be the one that catches Rodney's shoulders in his hands, who shakes him and drags him to them while John and Teyla reach for them both.
John will catch sight of the machine over Rodney's shoulder, of the black shadow that might be a handprint. A bolt of utter, nerveless terror will drive him to drag them all away from it, stumbling and staggering together out of the tunnel. Teyla will tug them urgently toward a side room that had been empty when the three of them had torn through, and was therefore free of bodies. In the cleaner air from the open windows, Rodney will sag visibly with relief.
"Jesus, Rodney, Jesus," John will croak hoarsely, and Teyla will nod, uncharacteristically pale and wide-eyed.
Ronon will choke out a sound that might be Rodney's name, his big arms nearly swallowing even Rodney's wide shoulders. When Ronon kisses Rodney, a brief, hard press of lips, it will be as much thwarted grief as it is joy.
Rodney's eyes will go huge. One of his hands will flail eloquently in the scant space between the four of them, knuckles glancing off of John's chest, fingertips brushing Teyla's arm. John will feel something swell fiercely in his chest, something so sharp and hot that he can only read it as pain.
Then Rodney will sling his arm around Ronon's neck and kiss him back. Rodney's head will tip back and his jaw will flex, and Ronon will make a low, rough noise against Rodney's mouth.
John will be so shocked that he'll stumble, the ground suddenly unsteady under his feet, and only Teyla's hands will keep him upright. One of Ronon's hands will curl around the side of Rodney's throat, wide thumb arcing along Rodney's cheek, and it'll be obvious, so obvious that John won't be able to stop himself from knowing that it isn't merely adrenaline and relief driving this.
John will take a step back, unable to reconcile the corrosive rage and the stark sorrow still roiling in his belly with this, whatever this is. He'll fumble to untangle himself from them, and only realize that it isn't only his own confusion making his attempts clumsy and ineffective when Teyla says, "John."
He'll look at her, and she'll reel him back into them by the grip she still has on his arm. Her face will still be wet with tears, but her lips will be soft with the familiar, generous curve of her smile, and he won't have it in him to pull away from her.
He'll realize that he isn't sure if he wants to retreat at the same time that her warm mouth brushes his. "Teyla," he'll groan, a sound like pain, and his skin will prickle when she slides her hand up his arm, across his shoulder and neck, and pushes her fingertips into his hair.
When her tongue brushes his lips, he will open to her.
Ronon will take his time sliding his mouth away from Rodney's.
The skin of Rodney's neck will be warm and comforting against the palm of his hand, and he'll be content to watch Rodney's lashes flutter against his cheeks until he opens his eyes. The look Rodney will fix on him will be both sharp and soft, knowing and shy. Rodney's mouth will curve into a faint one-sided smile, and Ronon will shift his thumb to skim the familiar, crooked line of it. He'll be grateful.
Rodney won't pull away from Ronon's honest touch; he won't look surprised, or even uncertain in the way that he mostly does around people. Ronon will grin at the unexpected ease of it. They'll both turn toward John and Teyla at the same moment.
Teyla's face will be tipped up, her mouth soft on John's. Rodney will make an uncertain noise, and Ronon will see where the walls lie between the four of them, those that will be easy to scale and those that won't. John's hands will be open and helpless at his sides, his feet set wide as though he's unsure of his balance.
Ronon will reach for him, curl a steadying hand around John's hip, connecting them. John's hands will flex briefly into fists at his sides, but he won't pull away. Teyla will shift, and for a moment Ronon will see John's slick bottom lip, and Teyla's tongue sliding along it.
Beside him, Rodney's breath will hitch, and John's body will curve in the barest hint. It will be as much in response to Rodney as it will be to Teyla, and Ronon will hope, fiercely and desperately, that it is a precursor of things to come. Teyla will tip her head back and lean her weight against Ronon's thigh, and John will follow the heat of her mouth and her body in a way that John never allows himself to knowingly follow anyone.
Teyla will let out a tiny a breath like a sigh, and John's hands will jerk up abruptly, will hover along both sides of her jaw, trembling, until he presses his fingertips tentatively against her skin, pale hands cupping her face.
Rodney's hand will tighten on Ronon's biceps, and he'll swallow with an audible click as John's jaw goes loose and some of the tension seeps out of the tight line of his shoulders.
Teyla will kiss John until they are both breathing harshly, and she will draw back from John slowly. Ronon will shift his body to support the languorous curve of her spine. Her mouth will be wet and open, her eyes dark and lovely. She'll smile at John when he opens his eyes to stare at her.
John's eyes will be wide and uncomprehending, and Ronon will lean in before John can speak, before the confusion can twist into retreat. Ronon will kiss John Sheppard's soft, open mouth knowing that they can't have this without John, and that John is the only one of them that doesn't know that.
And Ronon will want it. He will always have wanted it.
He'll make it careful and undemanding, and he'll feel nothing but relief when John's hand settles on his chest. John will let his head fall back so that Ronon can loosen the bend of his back and ease the strain on his knees. He'll recognize it as an act of trust from John, not of comprehension, and he'll accept it and be thankful, but he'll spend long, slow moments trying to explain what he can't articulate with the press of his tongue and the scrape of his teeth, because John could never be told anything, could only be shown.
Teyla will watch the two of them kiss with her back pressed against Rodney's chest and his arms circling her shoulders, his whole body folding in around her. After the tension and terror of the last week, the warm solidity of him will be nearly enough to make her eyes fall closed, and when he presses his face against the side of her hair, relief and love will rush through her.
The pressure of Rodney's body against hers will be half for John; he'll lean against her in part so she will keep him from pushing forward. She will recognize it in the impulse that makes her wrap her hands like bracelets around his forearms, as much to hold him close as to keep herself from reaching out. They'll keep each other still and let Ronon do this, because he has always been the honest one. If anyone can convince John of the rightness of this, it will be Ronon.
John's balance has always been so precarious. Just reaching out to catch him could make him fall.
As much as she'll ache to close the gap that separates her from the two of them, the beauty of that kiss will cut her more sharply. The backward tilt of John's head will draw out the line of his jaw, exposing his long throat and the flutter of his pulse behind it. The heavy ropes of Ronon's hair will screen them both, but she'll have a clear view of the notch where Ronon's brows fold together, and the tentative angle of John's chin. Ronon's long body will arch deliberately around John's, bending like a tree grown to curve up and over a stone, shading it, keeping it close.
She will scarcely breathe as she watches them, frightened, filled with vast hope. Then John's face will twist, his shoulders flexing back -- she'll be certain he's going to push himself away until the moment that he curls his hand around the open edge of Ronon's vest and uses that white-knuckled grip to pull himself farther in.
One motion, and they will all collapse into each other, just a little: Teyla's head will drop back against Rodney's shoulder, Rodney's arms will clutch her more tightly to him, and Ronon's body will bend around the pivot-point of John's grip even he slides his hand to the small of John's back and draws him close.
Teyla will feel Rodney's heartbeat against her spine, rapid and strong, and she'll sag against his chest, letting herself remember that terrifying light through the Jumper's windshield, the certainty that they were watching his life burn away. When John finally shudders and rocks back, his eyes will be bright with uncertainty and emotion, but he won't let go of Ronon's vest. As soon as she sees his hand still knotted there, how he's anchored himself, the tenuous grip she's kept on herself will finally fail.
She will twist free of Rodney's grip, turning to face him. He'll step back hastily, hands dropping out to hover at his sides, and she'll take his face in shaking hands, pulling him down to her as she steps backwards to trap herself in the small space between Rodney, Ronon, and John.
They'll find each other's mouths in a desperate collision, and Rodney's will notch immediately into place against hers, his movements as unflinching and full of conviction as if he were speaking. His lips will be chapped, chin and cheeks rough from going several days unshaven, and his body will be thick and strong as he presses close to her. She'll let Ronon take her weight again as she gropes for John. His hand will close tight around hers before they fumblingly knit their fingers together. Both their hands will be shaking.
They will all be here, together in this, and inside the cage of her ribs Teyla will feel her heart beating, beating, beating.
Rodney will postpone the end of the kiss until his head is swimming badly enough that he's in non-trivial danger of tipping over. Having the three of them here, crowding warm and close under his hands, will be far too staggering to be named anything as simple as relief. Ronon will grip his shoulder hard, steadying him, and Teyla will slide her hand along his jaw to press the edge of her thumb against his lips. When he sways, John will lean in to take his weight.
"God," Rodney will hear himself say, "I can't even ..." He'll shake his head sharply, trying to clear it, and Teyla will pull his head down to rest against the crown of hers -- not the Athosian gesture, but as though she just needs to feel his breath against her face, to know he's breathing.
When Ronon skims his hand under Teyla's hair, Rodney will pull back without thinking to watch him do it. It'll spill over his wrist, bronze on bronze, and she'll catch her breath and arch up as he runs his fingers lightly along the side of her neck. As she twists her head back against Ronon's chest, he'll stoop to catch her mouth, both of them straining into it. The feel of her hips pressing into Rodney's as she eels around to face Ronon will send a flush rising over Rodney's chest and face like a fever. When Ronon wraps his arms around her waist to hoist her up, he'll run the backs of his knuckles low across Rodney's stomach and leave them pressed there.
The way Teyla and Ronon will move against each other, all sinuous strength, will etch itself into Rodney's memory. He'll recognize the heat burning between them, between all of them, the way it's been there for years like magma moving miles underground. He'll recognize that twitchy feeling running under his skin, the one he's taken for adrenaline, the rush of another crisis averted, as the surface tremors of something much deeper. Teyla and Ronon will kiss, both of them still pressed so close to him that he'll feel it as clearly as he'll see it, and he'll realize just how far this thing between the four of them goes. Even as he realizes it, he'll understand that there's no way back from it.
And he'll know that even if there was, he wouldn't take it.
When Teyla loosens her arms and starts the long slide down Ronon's body, John will reach out to catch her as automatically as though he were spotting her. The sureness of the motion will snag Rodney's focus, and he'll see that John is wide-eyed and pale, expression absent anything remotely certain, but his hands will be steady and gentle on Teyla's hips. She'll turn to John, flushed, surprised. John will look down at her, then lift his eyes toward Ronon, and then he'll turn his head to look at Rodney.
The thing is, Rodney will think as he stares into John's eyes, this will mean something different for the two of them than it means with Ronon, with Teyla. Between the four of them, the divisions of culture and history run so wide as to render the rules for how to bridge them meaningless. They've had to come up with their own axioms, constantly changing, to fit themselves together into something that works for all of them. Something new.
But he and John are two guys from North America, pushing forty. They grew up with the same frame of reference, the same very specific protocols about what you're supposed to do, where the few alternate options were just as rigidly defined. The four of them will stand there, tangled together, but it will be Rodney and John who will understand the full extent of the structures they're about to abandon. They'll be the ones who know the significance of the rules they're about to break.
Rodney will bite his lip, and then he'll tug John up, turning him so they're facing each other straight on. He'll lift a hand, hesitate, then let it settle on the front of John's tac vest. The cool weave of the nylon under his hands will be familiar. The feel of John's chest rising and falling with short, unsteady breaths will not.
He'll stare at his own hand for a moment, the network of fresh scrapes and scorch-marks scribbled over his skin, and then he'll swallow hard and meet John's eyes again. "Hi," Rodney will say, with supreme unintelligence, and then his mouth will go dry as he struggles for something that isn't are you sure, that isn't if we do this, some phrase that will let him ask for informed consent without presenting what's coming as conditional.
John will blink hard and his hands will come up in an uneven, jerky motion to rest at Rodney's waist. In a hoarse voice, he'll tell Rodney, "Yeah, I know; no take-backs," and before anything else can happen, he'll lean forward and press his lips to Rodney's, scared shitless, resolute.
The kiss will be soft and dry, and they'll pull back, breathing shallowly. Rodney will squeeze his eyes closed and let his hand stroke up to rest on John's neck, the thin, hot skin there. They'll lean in and do it again. This time, Rodney will feel John's pulse jump under the heel of his hand and he'll gasp into the kiss a little; John will clench down on Rodney's arm and crowd in closer, darting his tongue over Rodney's lower lip.
It'll be shakier and slower than kissing Ronon or kissing Teyla, but no less charged. When the sky doesn't fall in, they'll shift into each other by increments. John will smell of sweat and cordite. The span of his hands on Rodney's body will be startlingly familiar; the sound of his breath hitching as Rodney palms his shoulder blade will be foreign and heady. John's mouth will grow hot and wet, and he will drag his hand up Rodney's arm until his thumb is hooked around the curve of his biceps under the sleeve of his t-shirt.
By the time they're pressed fully against each other, Rodney will be able to feel that they're both hard. Just that confirmation of what's happening here will be enough to make him reel a little, and Teyla will be right there, her hand sliding against the small of Rodney's back as John circles his arm around her, pulling her in. Rodney will lean in gratefully as Ronon folds his arms around them both, pressing a hard kiss to the top of John's head. When the kiss ends, Rodney's mouth will feel cool for a moment in the absence of John's lips, but he will be so warmly caught between the four of them that it won't feel like a loss. John's forehead will be resting on Teyla's shoulder, and he'll be able to feel Ronon's cheek against his own temple.
The four of them will wrap themselves together, an unbreakable knot fifty meters from the place where Rodney was supposed to die. They will be so real and so alive that the truth of it will almost be brighter than Rodney can stand.
Authors: shaenie and fiercelydreamed
Summary: At least 100% of your RDA of makeouts. With salt.
Details: ~7,400 words, ranging up to R. Various pairings.
Warnings: Fluctuates wildly along the angst--schmoop spectrum. Spoilers for S5.
Notes: Installments 16-20 of the 25 Things series (which isn't linear -- each set stands fully independent of the others). Installments I, II, and III are here, here, and here. Major thanks to thingswithwings for quite rightfully kicking our asses in beta, and to celli for last minute "omg does this make any sense" duty.
1. When the databurst comes in with the news from Earth, Rodney will do the only thing he can think of. He will have known Sam for more than a decade, and will long since have discarded any hopes he might once have harbored, but he will still love her in his way. He'll have been in Pegasus, with a team of his own, for long enough to understand grief. He'll go to her quarters within three minutes of reading the email, and she'll let him in with wet, red eyes and her face will be so shattered and lost that he'll forget all about being awkward or professional or anything else that doesn't immediately pertain to sinking down on the edge of her bed and cradling her against his chest while she sobs and shakes and tells him that it's her fault, her fault for not being there.
He'll find himself murmuring idiotic nonsense into her hair and telling her without shame how scared he is all the time, how terrifying he finds it to be a part of something so fragile, admitting in a hoarse, aching whisper that he knows who he is because of the people who love him, that he has nightmares in which he had never come to Atlantis, never learned to be a better man, never discovered what it meant to not be alone.
She'll calm slowly as he talks, her hands fisted into the material of his shirt and her face pressed unselfconsciously into the crook of his neck. He'll suspect for nearly an hour that she's fallen asleep, and when he is finally sure he'll shift her as gently as he can until she's curled into herself on her side, and he'll tuck the blankets up around her chin. When he straightens, she'll open her eyes briefly and catch her hand in his. He'll squeeze her hand gently and smile as well as he can (while his chest aches hollowly for her), and she'll press her lips against his knuckles and murmur, "Thanks, Rodney."
He'll whisper, "Any time, Sam," and think the lights down low for her.
When he leaves, he'll go in search of his team, and he won't be surprised to find them together.
2. After a rare, totally successful mission, Teyla will catch John's wrist and arch a brow at him, lips quirked knowingly. "You will baby-sit for me tonight, John," she will say, and John will nod dumbly because there's no graceful way to get out of it.
It'll be only the third time that John has had Torren all night, and he'll be feeling fairly pleased with himself and his baby-handling abilities until Torren starts to cry. And doesn't stop.
He'll cry while John tries to give him a bottle, and while John changes his diaper, and while John puts him in his baby sling and jogs halfway around the city with him. He'll cry through John's attempts to soothe him with Johnny Cash, and though he'll settle into restless, unhappy whimpers during the Puddle Jumper ride John authorizes himself to give, John himself will actually start dozing at the controls after two hours and be forced to return to the city.
He'll howl while John tries to enlist Rodney's aid, an attempt which will be soundly ("No, no, no, a whole world of no, Sheppard. Do you know where I am right now? There are two live electrical conduits inches -- mere inches -- above my head, and I'm standing in a puddle. The power bypass conduit grid is no place for a baby!") rebuffed.
He'll shriek during John's desperate attempt at a Hail Mary, consisting of actually singing a lullaby himself.
Then John will call Teyla.
Teyla will answer, first breathless and with laughter ringing in her voice, which will devolve quickly into impatience when John attempts to return her son to her. She'll end the call with the words, "Suck it up, John," delivered in such sweet tones that John, totally against his will, will find it funny and slightly charming.
Torren will scream for another fifteen minutes, during which John will actually make himself slightly motion-sick attempting to do the bounce-on-the-hip thing he's seen Teyla, Ronon, and even Rodney accomplish with apparent ease, usually while doing something else entirely at the same time.
Ronon will let himself into John's quarters and look at both of them for several long seconds, and shake his head. "Woolsey's got the kind of music he likes," Ronon will tell John, amused and totally unsympathetic, before he flees to locations less detrimental to eardrums and sanity.
"It's three in the goddamned morning, Ronon!" John will call helplessly after him, and Torren will go momentarily silent and blink up at John, his eyes huge and wet and miserable, before taking a deep breath and howling some more.
John will somehow find himself pounding on his boss's door at fuck-off in the morning, and will be so totally gobsmacked when Woolsey answers wearing polka-dotted pajamas and a velvet robe that looks like something out of A Christmas Carol that he'll forget to attempt an explanation for his presence.
Woolsey will scoop Torren out of his arms without John having to say a word, and John will stand in his doorway for several seconds, inarticulately grateful. Woolsey will croon something soft and nonsensical into Torren's little red face while he makes a beeline for the most impressive stereo-system John has seen since he left Earth.
Within seconds the room will be filled with the unmistakable pounding sounds of Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries."
"You're kidding me," John will sigh, but Torren will already be rapt and silent in the crook of one of Woolsey's arms, and Woolsey will be conducting with utter, unselfconscious verve with his free hand.
John will sink down on one of the long, low sofas and watch in amazement as Woolsey flips to something else before the last strains of Ride even sound, and fuck John if it isn't the opening music for Star Wars.
John will think: This is what he likes? And then he'll think: Woolsey knows what Torren likes?
He'll fall asleep sitting up on Woolsey's sofa.
John will wake up sometime later with Woolsey's hand on his shoulder, and he'll get up to accept a soundly-sleeping Torren as Woolsey gingerly hands him over.
Woolsey will dip his head to press his lips to Torren's silky hair as though completely unaware of John standing there holding him; his face will look oddly defenseless without his glasses, his eyes soft. Torren's small face will be sweetly lax with sleep. It won't occur to John to move away until Woolsey tucks the blanket up around Torren's little chin and takes a step back.
Woolsey will smile down at Torren, and then raise his eyes to John; he'll look almost surprised to see him there. "Colonel," Woolsey will murmur, voice barely more than a whisper. For the first time, Woolsey will look just as uncomfortable as John feels. "Goodnight."
"Thanks," John will whisper back awkwardly, sincerely. Woolsey will lift his chin slightly, his expression smoothing into something easier, and he will give John a nod.
They will never talk about it, though the next time it happens John will manage to leave with a sleeping Torren and all three Star Wars soundtracks.
3. It will take almost eleven months after they escape from the (other) Replicators before the five of them -- John, Rodney, Teyla, Ronon, and Elizabeth -- can finally stop running. By then the galaxy will be in the throes of the Hybrid War, societies buckling, alliances breaking down, and because she can't just sit there and watch it happen, Elizabeth will contact Atlantis.
To her surprise, they'll let her come. The invitation will extend to all of them, in fact, but Ronon will be the only one who joins her, and only then because he won't let her go alone. John, Rodney, and Teyla will choose to stay behind on Callerie, and Elizabeth won't press them for an explanation. She won't need to.
It will be the first time she's ever set foot in the city, and it will go better than she expects, and it will be worse.
At the end, there will be an hour before they're due to gate back, and she'll excuse herself to the mezzanine over the south pier to watch the dual moons rise in the green-tinged dusk, Ronon and her Marine escorts hanging back in the corridor to give her some time alone with Atlantis. She'll rest her elbows on the railing and angle her face toward the night breeze, letting memories that aren't hers circle around her. When she hears footsteps approaching, she'll take a steadying breath before turning, and Radek Zelenka will step up to the railing beside her.
She'll give him the best smile she can manage, and he'll dip his head to acknowledge it, and they'll both look out over the ocean. She will spend ten minutes braced for small talk, or questions, and when she finally realizes there aren't going to be any, her back and neck will loosen with relief. He will simply stand there in silence with her, and though she won't recall him ever having done so with the real Elizabeth, it will be somehow much better than standing there alone.
Her hour will almost be up when he finally speaks. "You are going back soon."
It won't be a question. She'll answer it anyway. "In just a few minutes, I think. I promised the other three we'd return before local sunset, and I think it'd be best if we weren't late."
"Ah," he'll say, "of course." He'll go quiet again. "Will you be back?"
"I don't know," she'll tell him, after a pause of her own. It'll be the truth.
When Radek turns, the city lights will spill over his profile as he looks back towards the central spires. "The city misses you." The words will be low, almost free of intonation, but his accent will stretch out the sibilants until they're soft around the edges. He'll meet her eyes as he says, "We all miss you."
The strained feeling that's been living in her throat all day will tighten abruptly and break, and she'll have to swallow hard against it. "Radek," she'll start, but before she can say it -- just how badly she misses all of them, all of this, this life that was never hers to begin with -- he'll step in close, his fingers coming up soft and unexpectedly warm to cup her face, and he'll kiss her, long and adamant and sweet.
He'll pull back after a few seconds, fingers still woven in her hair, breath hot against her mouth, but her eyes won't open until he releases her and steps away. She'll study him wordlessly -- his straight shoulders and messy hair, the subtle angles of his face -- and he'll lift one fine-boned hand and push his glasses up the bridge of his nose, twin moons reflected in the lenses. "Yes," he'll say, as though wrapping up an explanation. "I thought you should know." He'll walk backwards for two steps before turning and following the curve of the tower out of sight.
Elizabeth will spend her last minutes on Atlantis on the south pier mezzanine, her back to the railing, face tipped up toward the central spires. On Callerie, Rodney, Teyla, and John will be waiting when she and Ronon come through the event horizon; Teyla will put a hand on her shoulder, and Elizabeth will break unexpectedly into tears.
None of them will press her for an explanation. They won't need to.
4. When the SGC transfers Laura back to Atlantis, they'll give "rotation of strategic personnel" as their justification, but after reading the mission overviews for the intervening three years, she'll suspect that the expedition has dropped below minimum acceptable levels on whatever metric the IOA uses for girl power. (Gender balance among ranking officers and department heads, fine, whatever.) Her actual posting will time things so that she'll just miss crossing paths with Carson 2.0 as he comes back through (for which she'll be really guiltily grateful, because finding out your ex-boyfriend got blown up fucking sucks, but finding out there's a clone running around whose memories don't actually include the break-up? -- awkward).
She will have forgotten that walking through the gate from Earth to Atlantis somehow never feels the same as walking through the gate anywhere else.
Because it'll still be the fucking Pegasus galaxy, she won't even make it past the 'gateroom meet-and-greet with Woolsey (who, starchiness aside, will actually come off as less of a bureaucratic chair-warmer than she'd been expecting) before an anthropologist crossing the event horizon from M7X-whatever will fumble and drop some large pottery globe. As Laura stoops to catch it, it'll shatter and send a puff of pink dust up into her face.
"Fuckmonkies!" she'll shout, or try to. Maybe much later she'll be grateful that the coughing fit kept her from yelling anything that patently ridiculous in front of her new boss and a whole shift of the gate crew. At the time, she'll be too distracted by the way that her sense of kinesthetics is dispersing, blurring at the skin and sending numbness crawling inward, because not again, Christ, please, not fucking again.
By the time they get the stretcher into the infirmary, Laura's body will feel like a cloud of smoke, and they'll have strapped her down because she'll be fighting violently to get free so she can find her goddamn fingers. A brunette in medical yellow will appear above her to grab her face with two gloved hands and snap, "Just stay still, we're going to help you--"
Laura will have just enough coherence left to think shit, why do they always hire the cute ones before she passes out.
When she wakes up, they'll have a mirror there to prove she's still in her own body, even if she can't tell that with her eyes closed. The new doc will introduce herself as Dr. Jennifer Keller, tossing that flyaway hair back over her shoulder (jeez, Laura could eat her up with a spoon if her hands worked well enough to hold one). Then she'll launch into the standard round of good news, bad news.
Good news: blah blah biochemical technobabble, it isn't permanent. Bad news: blah blah biochemical technobabble, they don't have a rapid way to reverse it. Good news: animated chart of her CNS system, her body should gradually break the compound down if she stays mildly active for the interim. Bad news: rueful look with head tipped sideways, for her safety they'll need her to stay in the infirmary until her proprioception's back to normal.
Good news: the PT Geoff will be good, all-American, fireman-charity-calendar-style eyecandy; his idea of therapeutic treatment for someone who can't tell where her limbs end will be dice, card games, and velcro Nerf darts. When Laura lets it slip that she thinks the new chief medical officer is very Cameron on House meets Doogie Howser, M.D. , it'll take him less than forty-five minutes to manufacture a reason why he really has to do that massive stack of paperwork right now and if Dr. Keller could just sit in with Laura for, like, two hours tops--
"Um, there are simulations running, but I guess I can keep an eye on them from here--" she'll say, looking with some bewilderment between Geoff, Laura, her abandoned laptop, and the contents of what look like a YMCA rec room closet strewn out across three medical carts and Laura's cot.
"Make her show you the bar trick," Geoff will tell Laura, and that'll be the last she sees of him for the rest of the afternoon.
Things Laura will learn in the fifteen days total it takes the last of the dust to burn out of her nerve endings:
Jennifer is smart. Jennifer is funny. Jennifer speaks with a Minnesotan accent that gets infinitely more hilarious when she demonstrates how a med-school ex-boyfriend taught her to swear in Norwegian. Jennifer had an almost-thing with Ronon last year that fizzled out when she found out about Satedan formal courtship. Jennifer had an almost-thing with Rodney this year that she broke off when she realized the emotional age difference was more of a problem than the actual one, and also when she realized that dating Rodney McKay made the military commander of Atlantis wander around the outer halls like a kicked puppy. Thanks to an internship working with kids with terminal illnesses, Jennifer can do an amazing range of stupid human tricks. Jennifer bitches out the computer systems when her simulations won't cooperate and she's forgotten that anyone's in earshot. Jennifer can trade sexual double-entendres like a sorority girl, but flirtation when she's not expecting it will make her blush like she's fourteen.
After Laura is released from the infirmary to the quarters she hadn't gotten to set foot in yet, she'll apply lip balm and zip her jacket down just a little every day before she goes back for the follow-up scans and toxicity screenings. She'll bribe Horton, who still owes her from that thing that time, for the duty roster. When their mutual day off comes up, Laura will drag Jennifer out from the infirmary on the (totally made-up) excuse that she doesn't really know that many people left on base that well and wants someone to show her the new steam-room/tropical botany facility they found after she left in year three.
When Laura strips down in the threshold and pads over naked to the sort-of-palm tree, she'll catch Jennifer watching her with startled eyes as she hoists herself up one-handed onto the high, curved platform and twists to drop back into the sculpted seat, legs just a little splayed.
Within a week, Laura will have mastered the latest iteration of the Atlantis barter economy well enough to get a big jug of the Athosian honey brew, and she will manfully wait another ten days before inviting Jennifer over for balcony beer-pong.
Jennifer, the lush, will turn out to have much higher alcohol tolerance than Laura does, but Laura has far and away more eye-hand coordination, so they'll end up equally hammered. And when Laura chivalrously accompanies Jennifer on the drunken stumble back to her quarters, she'll lean in just long enough to be sure that Jennifer really, really wants that goodnight kiss, and then she'll smile and push off the door frame to make her swaying way back to the transporter.
Jennifer will taste amazing, pressed flat on her back on Laura's sheets with her legs tossed over Laura's back and her thigh muscles clenching against Laura's shoulders, clit hot and full under Laura's tongue. She'll be breathy and talkative, her hair will feel like corn-silk when it's drenched with sweat, and she'll have this way of gripping Laura's hips and shoving up so Laura can straddle her thigh and rub off against the angle of her hipbone that will make Laura's eyes absolutely roll back in her head.
Two months after she gets to Atlantis, Laura'll be in her kitchenette filling two mugs with that Yehailan tea-coffee-cocoa, and Jennifer will wander over in Laura's robe to sit in one of the little chairs, bare feet tucked under her. "Is it weird that I've got his job now?" she'll ask, and bite her lip as she sweeps her hair back behind one ear. "I mean, I know you two broke up before he died, but still. You're back, and he's gone, and now your -- girlfriend," and jeez, Laura'll think as she pours the creamer in and tries not to smile, she'll never get tired of the way Jennifer blushes when she says that, "is chief medical officer. Again. Is that weird for you?"
Laura will set one mug down on the table and take a thoughtful sip of the other before putting it down too. She'll brace her hand on the back of Jennifer's chair and kiss her slowly, tongue licking the edge of her lip, long enough to be sure the smoke-and-chocolate taste of the drink will come through. In the window behind them, the second of the two moons will be setting.
"This whole galaxy is weird for me," she'll murmur into Jennifer's mouth, settling one knee outside of Jennifer's thighs so she can lean in a little closer on the second kiss. "I roll with it."
5. They'll be flying toward the compound on Feldra at the fastest speed that won't break the sound barrier when a horrifying beam of white light will burst out of the central tower and split the sky wide open.
John will lose his grip on everything else, washed away in a rush of horror and fear and rage, and the Puddle Jumper will falter, stuttering in the sky.
"John," Teyla will snap, and John will somehow get them on the ground sans fireball. He will do it without once wrenching his eyes from the blinding column ahead of them, the energy pouring out of the Feldrid Machine.
The beam will burn with ferocious beauty, transfixing for the twenty-six seconds it lasts before it flickers, weakens, and abruptly winks out.
"Rodney," Teyla will scream, voice breaking and awful, and John will hear bitter understanding in it, knowledge that he doesn't want and refuses to believe.
"No." The word won't be loud, but there'll be enough force behind it to scour John's throat. Then he'll say, "Ronon, you're on our six; kill anything that moves," and they won't argue with him.
The neutralization of the hostile contingent on P41-G99 will be the worst thing that John has ever done.
He'll duck into the compound, P90 booming, and he'll know before the first body hits the ground that this will be the worst thing he has ever done. He'll understand clearly that he is going to be responsible for the worst thing his team has ever had to do.
He won't care.
They'll barely look at each other beyond what's necessary to maintain a tactical formation. After one glance shows John the bright sheen of tears cutting their way down Ronon's face, John will know that he can't look back. Not if they're going to finish this.
The screams will echo in the vaulted corridors, and he'll find himself grinning with fury and spattered with blood. He won't feel pity and he won't show mercy; every scream will burn like acid and knot in his stomach and make him glad.
They will rip through the compound like a bitter wind, leaving nothing behind them.
When there is nothing else left, no one else left, they will find a tunnel with a door like a bank vault. The thumbprint of one of the dead Feldrid will be enough to get the door open, and behind it will be the cold, blank hulk of the machine. Next to him, Teyla will press her hand to her mouth at the stink of ozone, of the faint tang of burnt hair and blood.
The clear walls of the central cylinder will be smudged with the black ghosts of its fuel. Superimposed over the old, faint shadows will be a newer one, its edges indefinite but for one nearly-opaque mark the size of a man's palm, and John's vision will crack. He'll raise his P90, wanting nothing, nothing but to kill it, annihilate it and everyone that had ever touched it, and he'll cry out with baffled rage when Ronon shouts something and catches the barrel in his fist, jerking it off-target.
The report John will eventually write will clearly outline how a covert rescue mission to recover Dr. McKay had morphed into the complete eradication of an estimated enemy contingent of at least thirty people, the total destruction of the Feldrid compound and the eventual obliteration of the Feldrid machine. John will scrupulously include every pertinent, damning detail. It will provide basic information on the Machine itself, and reference Dr. McKay's initial report on the technical details of the device. It will specifically cite Dr. McKay's absolute refusal to have anything to do with making the Feldrid machine operational, and his strong recommendation that Atlantis have nothing to do with the Feldrid, full stop. It will include Dr. Weir's notes, entered into the database after SGA-1 had returned from the first contact mission to Feldra, indicating that no one with the ATA gene should ever return to P41-G99.
The report won't say anything about the shocked revulsion on Rodney's face when the Feldrid had shown him the technical drawings for the machine and asked if he could fix it. It won't mention that Rodney had invoked a code five, emergency return to base, or capture the bitter curve of his mouth while he argued with Elizabeth, then Carter, and later even with Woolsey, for Atlantis to do whatever it took to take "that thing" out of the hands of the Feldrid, take it out of the hands of everyone, and "blow the fucking thing into atoms."
But those things will lie heavy in John's mind as he writes it. The report will be as complete as he can make it in every other way, accepting the totality of the responsibility for P41-G99.
The only thing that he will not put down on paper is that he had known what he was doing every goddamned step of the way.
Teyla's hands on him won't stop him. Neither will Ronon, straining to keep the gun out of play, and shouting, "Sheppard, wait, John--"
It will take Rodney rising from a crouch behind the machine, dirty and bloodied, his hands full of an indecipherable skein of sparking wires, to make John stop.
Rodney will be hollow-eyed and pale, but otherwise apparently unharmed. There will be two people, both in uniforms, lying limp on the ground behind him.
"Jesus," he'll say. "You look like extras in a Sam Raimi movie."
Teyla will let out a sharp, glad cry and the three of them will stagger forward, a tangle of uncoordinated movement, and they'll crash together like the tide meeting the shore. John's gun will clatter to the floor unnoticed, and Ronon will be the one that catches Rodney's shoulders in his hands, who shakes him and drags him to them while John and Teyla reach for them both.
John will catch sight of the machine over Rodney's shoulder, of the black shadow that might be a handprint. A bolt of utter, nerveless terror will drive him to drag them all away from it, stumbling and staggering together out of the tunnel. Teyla will tug them urgently toward a side room that had been empty when the three of them had torn through, and was therefore free of bodies. In the cleaner air from the open windows, Rodney will sag visibly with relief.
"Jesus, Rodney, Jesus," John will croak hoarsely, and Teyla will nod, uncharacteristically pale and wide-eyed.
Ronon will choke out a sound that might be Rodney's name, his big arms nearly swallowing even Rodney's wide shoulders. When Ronon kisses Rodney, a brief, hard press of lips, it will be as much thwarted grief as it is joy.
Rodney's eyes will go huge. One of his hands will flail eloquently in the scant space between the four of them, knuckles glancing off of John's chest, fingertips brushing Teyla's arm. John will feel something swell fiercely in his chest, something so sharp and hot that he can only read it as pain.
Then Rodney will sling his arm around Ronon's neck and kiss him back. Rodney's head will tip back and his jaw will flex, and Ronon will make a low, rough noise against Rodney's mouth.
John will be so shocked that he'll stumble, the ground suddenly unsteady under his feet, and only Teyla's hands will keep him upright. One of Ronon's hands will curl around the side of Rodney's throat, wide thumb arcing along Rodney's cheek, and it'll be obvious, so obvious that John won't be able to stop himself from knowing that it isn't merely adrenaline and relief driving this.
John will take a step back, unable to reconcile the corrosive rage and the stark sorrow still roiling in his belly with this, whatever this is. He'll fumble to untangle himself from them, and only realize that it isn't only his own confusion making his attempts clumsy and ineffective when Teyla says, "John."
He'll look at her, and she'll reel him back into them by the grip she still has on his arm. Her face will still be wet with tears, but her lips will be soft with the familiar, generous curve of her smile, and he won't have it in him to pull away from her.
He'll realize that he isn't sure if he wants to retreat at the same time that her warm mouth brushes his. "Teyla," he'll groan, a sound like pain, and his skin will prickle when she slides her hand up his arm, across his shoulder and neck, and pushes her fingertips into his hair.
When her tongue brushes his lips, he will open to her.
Ronon will take his time sliding his mouth away from Rodney's.
The skin of Rodney's neck will be warm and comforting against the palm of his hand, and he'll be content to watch Rodney's lashes flutter against his cheeks until he opens his eyes. The look Rodney will fix on him will be both sharp and soft, knowing and shy. Rodney's mouth will curve into a faint one-sided smile, and Ronon will shift his thumb to skim the familiar, crooked line of it. He'll be grateful.
Rodney won't pull away from Ronon's honest touch; he won't look surprised, or even uncertain in the way that he mostly does around people. Ronon will grin at the unexpected ease of it. They'll both turn toward John and Teyla at the same moment.
Teyla's face will be tipped up, her mouth soft on John's. Rodney will make an uncertain noise, and Ronon will see where the walls lie between the four of them, those that will be easy to scale and those that won't. John's hands will be open and helpless at his sides, his feet set wide as though he's unsure of his balance.
Ronon will reach for him, curl a steadying hand around John's hip, connecting them. John's hands will flex briefly into fists at his sides, but he won't pull away. Teyla will shift, and for a moment Ronon will see John's slick bottom lip, and Teyla's tongue sliding along it.
Beside him, Rodney's breath will hitch, and John's body will curve in the barest hint. It will be as much in response to Rodney as it will be to Teyla, and Ronon will hope, fiercely and desperately, that it is a precursor of things to come. Teyla will tip her head back and lean her weight against Ronon's thigh, and John will follow the heat of her mouth and her body in a way that John never allows himself to knowingly follow anyone.
Teyla will let out a tiny a breath like a sigh, and John's hands will jerk up abruptly, will hover along both sides of her jaw, trembling, until he presses his fingertips tentatively against her skin, pale hands cupping her face.
Rodney's hand will tighten on Ronon's biceps, and he'll swallow with an audible click as John's jaw goes loose and some of the tension seeps out of the tight line of his shoulders.
Teyla will kiss John until they are both breathing harshly, and she will draw back from John slowly. Ronon will shift his body to support the languorous curve of her spine. Her mouth will be wet and open, her eyes dark and lovely. She'll smile at John when he opens his eyes to stare at her.
John's eyes will be wide and uncomprehending, and Ronon will lean in before John can speak, before the confusion can twist into retreat. Ronon will kiss John Sheppard's soft, open mouth knowing that they can't have this without John, and that John is the only one of them that doesn't know that.
And Ronon will want it. He will always have wanted it.
He'll make it careful and undemanding, and he'll feel nothing but relief when John's hand settles on his chest. John will let his head fall back so that Ronon can loosen the bend of his back and ease the strain on his knees. He'll recognize it as an act of trust from John, not of comprehension, and he'll accept it and be thankful, but he'll spend long, slow moments trying to explain what he can't articulate with the press of his tongue and the scrape of his teeth, because John could never be told anything, could only be shown.
Teyla will watch the two of them kiss with her back pressed against Rodney's chest and his arms circling her shoulders, his whole body folding in around her. After the tension and terror of the last week, the warm solidity of him will be nearly enough to make her eyes fall closed, and when he presses his face against the side of her hair, relief and love will rush through her.
The pressure of Rodney's body against hers will be half for John; he'll lean against her in part so she will keep him from pushing forward. She will recognize it in the impulse that makes her wrap her hands like bracelets around his forearms, as much to hold him close as to keep herself from reaching out. They'll keep each other still and let Ronon do this, because he has always been the honest one. If anyone can convince John of the rightness of this, it will be Ronon.
John's balance has always been so precarious. Just reaching out to catch him could make him fall.
As much as she'll ache to close the gap that separates her from the two of them, the beauty of that kiss will cut her more sharply. The backward tilt of John's head will draw out the line of his jaw, exposing his long throat and the flutter of his pulse behind it. The heavy ropes of Ronon's hair will screen them both, but she'll have a clear view of the notch where Ronon's brows fold together, and the tentative angle of John's chin. Ronon's long body will arch deliberately around John's, bending like a tree grown to curve up and over a stone, shading it, keeping it close.
She will scarcely breathe as she watches them, frightened, filled with vast hope. Then John's face will twist, his shoulders flexing back -- she'll be certain he's going to push himself away until the moment that he curls his hand around the open edge of Ronon's vest and uses that white-knuckled grip to pull himself farther in.
One motion, and they will all collapse into each other, just a little: Teyla's head will drop back against Rodney's shoulder, Rodney's arms will clutch her more tightly to him, and Ronon's body will bend around the pivot-point of John's grip even he slides his hand to the small of John's back and draws him close.
Teyla will feel Rodney's heartbeat against her spine, rapid and strong, and she'll sag against his chest, letting herself remember that terrifying light through the Jumper's windshield, the certainty that they were watching his life burn away. When John finally shudders and rocks back, his eyes will be bright with uncertainty and emotion, but he won't let go of Ronon's vest. As soon as she sees his hand still knotted there, how he's anchored himself, the tenuous grip she's kept on herself will finally fail.
She will twist free of Rodney's grip, turning to face him. He'll step back hastily, hands dropping out to hover at his sides, and she'll take his face in shaking hands, pulling him down to her as she steps backwards to trap herself in the small space between Rodney, Ronon, and John.
They'll find each other's mouths in a desperate collision, and Rodney's will notch immediately into place against hers, his movements as unflinching and full of conviction as if he were speaking. His lips will be chapped, chin and cheeks rough from going several days unshaven, and his body will be thick and strong as he presses close to her. She'll let Ronon take her weight again as she gropes for John. His hand will close tight around hers before they fumblingly knit their fingers together. Both their hands will be shaking.
They will all be here, together in this, and inside the cage of her ribs Teyla will feel her heart beating, beating, beating.
Rodney will postpone the end of the kiss until his head is swimming badly enough that he's in non-trivial danger of tipping over. Having the three of them here, crowding warm and close under his hands, will be far too staggering to be named anything as simple as relief. Ronon will grip his shoulder hard, steadying him, and Teyla will slide her hand along his jaw to press the edge of her thumb against his lips. When he sways, John will lean in to take his weight.
"God," Rodney will hear himself say, "I can't even ..." He'll shake his head sharply, trying to clear it, and Teyla will pull his head down to rest against the crown of hers -- not the Athosian gesture, but as though she just needs to feel his breath against her face, to know he's breathing.
When Ronon skims his hand under Teyla's hair, Rodney will pull back without thinking to watch him do it. It'll spill over his wrist, bronze on bronze, and she'll catch her breath and arch up as he runs his fingers lightly along the side of her neck. As she twists her head back against Ronon's chest, he'll stoop to catch her mouth, both of them straining into it. The feel of her hips pressing into Rodney's as she eels around to face Ronon will send a flush rising over Rodney's chest and face like a fever. When Ronon wraps his arms around her waist to hoist her up, he'll run the backs of his knuckles low across Rodney's stomach and leave them pressed there.
The way Teyla and Ronon will move against each other, all sinuous strength, will etch itself into Rodney's memory. He'll recognize the heat burning between them, between all of them, the way it's been there for years like magma moving miles underground. He'll recognize that twitchy feeling running under his skin, the one he's taken for adrenaline, the rush of another crisis averted, as the surface tremors of something much deeper. Teyla and Ronon will kiss, both of them still pressed so close to him that he'll feel it as clearly as he'll see it, and he'll realize just how far this thing between the four of them goes. Even as he realizes it, he'll understand that there's no way back from it.
And he'll know that even if there was, he wouldn't take it.
When Teyla loosens her arms and starts the long slide down Ronon's body, John will reach out to catch her as automatically as though he were spotting her. The sureness of the motion will snag Rodney's focus, and he'll see that John is wide-eyed and pale, expression absent anything remotely certain, but his hands will be steady and gentle on Teyla's hips. She'll turn to John, flushed, surprised. John will look down at her, then lift his eyes toward Ronon, and then he'll turn his head to look at Rodney.
The thing is, Rodney will think as he stares into John's eyes, this will mean something different for the two of them than it means with Ronon, with Teyla. Between the four of them, the divisions of culture and history run so wide as to render the rules for how to bridge them meaningless. They've had to come up with their own axioms, constantly changing, to fit themselves together into something that works for all of them. Something new.
But he and John are two guys from North America, pushing forty. They grew up with the same frame of reference, the same very specific protocols about what you're supposed to do, where the few alternate options were just as rigidly defined. The four of them will stand there, tangled together, but it will be Rodney and John who will understand the full extent of the structures they're about to abandon. They'll be the ones who know the significance of the rules they're about to break.
Rodney will bite his lip, and then he'll tug John up, turning him so they're facing each other straight on. He'll lift a hand, hesitate, then let it settle on the front of John's tac vest. The cool weave of the nylon under his hands will be familiar. The feel of John's chest rising and falling with short, unsteady breaths will not.
He'll stare at his own hand for a moment, the network of fresh scrapes and scorch-marks scribbled over his skin, and then he'll swallow hard and meet John's eyes again. "Hi," Rodney will say, with supreme unintelligence, and then his mouth will go dry as he struggles for something that isn't are you sure, that isn't if we do this, some phrase that will let him ask for informed consent without presenting what's coming as conditional.
John will blink hard and his hands will come up in an uneven, jerky motion to rest at Rodney's waist. In a hoarse voice, he'll tell Rodney, "Yeah, I know; no take-backs," and before anything else can happen, he'll lean forward and press his lips to Rodney's, scared shitless, resolute.
The kiss will be soft and dry, and they'll pull back, breathing shallowly. Rodney will squeeze his eyes closed and let his hand stroke up to rest on John's neck, the thin, hot skin there. They'll lean in and do it again. This time, Rodney will feel John's pulse jump under the heel of his hand and he'll gasp into the kiss a little; John will clench down on Rodney's arm and crowd in closer, darting his tongue over Rodney's lower lip.
It'll be shakier and slower than kissing Ronon or kissing Teyla, but no less charged. When the sky doesn't fall in, they'll shift into each other by increments. John will smell of sweat and cordite. The span of his hands on Rodney's body will be startlingly familiar; the sound of his breath hitching as Rodney palms his shoulder blade will be foreign and heady. John's mouth will grow hot and wet, and he will drag his hand up Rodney's arm until his thumb is hooked around the curve of his biceps under the sleeve of his t-shirt.
By the time they're pressed fully against each other, Rodney will be able to feel that they're both hard. Just that confirmation of what's happening here will be enough to make him reel a little, and Teyla will be right there, her hand sliding against the small of Rodney's back as John circles his arm around her, pulling her in. Rodney will lean in gratefully as Ronon folds his arms around them both, pressing a hard kiss to the top of John's head. When the kiss ends, Rodney's mouth will feel cool for a moment in the absence of John's lips, but he will be so warmly caught between the four of them that it won't feel like a loss. John's forehead will be resting on Teyla's shoulder, and he'll be able to feel Ronon's cheek against his own temple.
The four of them will wrap themselves together, an unbreakable knot fifty meters from the place where Rodney was supposed to die. They will be so real and so alive that the truth of it will almost be brighter than Rodney can stand.