Fic: Modern Myth (SGA)

[propinquitine]

Title: Modern Myth
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Passing reference to "Tao of Rodney".
Length: 2,684 words
Notes: I am in awe of people who can write short smooches. This was the briefest (of 5!) kisses that I attempted.

ETA: Now available in podfic form, as read by the lovely winkingstar!


"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Rodney said as he entered the chamber. The Mathunians had taken Colonel Sheppard away several hours ago, hours that the rest of the team (joined by a number of the villagers, which Rodney still didn't really understand) had spent completing a series of tasks and trials and tests. There had been barrel-hoisting and sprinting and something frighteningly akin to doing a high-wire act over a pit of live snakes. Rodney was pretty sure the only reason he'd gotten through any of it was the Mathunians' continued reminders that they had the Colonel--that, and Ronon carrying him over the snake pit.

After the ridiculous physical activities had winnowed the group down to just the three of them and an enthusiastic blacksmith's apprentice, the Mathunian priestess (Keli-something? Rodney hadn't bothered paying attention, he'd been too busy trying to remember if the First Aid kits included anti-venin) invited them all to place their hands on the Sacred Sphere. According to Keli, it would "evaluate inner strength, as the Trials have tested your physical mettle."

Rodney had quickly recognized the Sacred Sphere as a bit of Ancient technology, similar to something they'd found in one of the living quarters on Atlantis; as near as they'd been able to figure, that orb was basically an Ancient night light. Hoping that the Mathunians' sacred round thing was similarly innocuous, he'd picked it up, and it had lit up with that familiar greenish glow. The priestess had been thrilled, happily declaring the trials to be over, while the apprentice blacksmith's face had fallen into a deep pout. They soon discovered that the Mathunians rarely had any contact with ATA-enabled individuals, and no one had been able to light up the Sacred Sphere for decades.

"What use is it as a trial, then?" Teyla had asked. Keli explained that, barring verification of a person's worth via the Sphere, contestants were thoroughly interviewed to judge their moral character, a process that usually lasted six hours or more.

"Yes, well, that won't be necessary, this thing is glowing the glow of 'He's not morally bankrupt', now take me to where you've stashed the Colonel," Rodney had demanded, hoping to prevent any chance of the whole ordeal devolving into a six-hour conversation, anyway.

Keli had smiled at him, amused, saying, "I can see that someone is eager to complete the ritual."

At this, the blacksmith's apprentice had sighed dejectedly, and started trudging back toward the rest of the villagers. Ignoring the weirdness that was teenage boys, thankfully, Keli had led Rodney to the outer door to the ceremonial chamber, and told him, "What you seek lies inside."

"You do mean Sheppard, right?" Rodney'd asked, "because I'm really not looking for anything else right now. Just want my colonel back, thank you."

Again with the amused smile. "What you seek lies inside. And you have been judged singularly capable of retrieving it."

"What do you mean, 'capable of retrieving it'? I don't just go in and get him? I have to do something else? You said the trials were over!" Rodney had not been pleased to hear this--what if there were more snakes? Ronon and the anti-venin weren't going into the chamber with him.

"It shall become apparent once you enter the chamber," Keli had replied, giving Rodney a firm shove toward the door.

So he'd entered the chamber, and now he was standing there, gaping at the sight before him. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me," he said, wondering if there was an echo in the room. He'd found Sheppard, all right: the colonel was lying on a ceremonial platform that was draped with silk and satin in all shades of blue, elevated on some sort of dais in the middle of the room. Candles flickered in wall sconces and free-standing candelabras, suffusing the room with a dim, warm glow; Rodney thought briefly of eulogies, and Ascension, and just how uncomfortable the floors in Atlantis were to lie on.

Sheppard's eyes were closed, but he was breathing, Rodney could see his chest rising and falling from where he stood in the doorway, and someone had arranged his hands so that they clasped a single red flower to his chest. Rodney vaguely remembered that there had been a discussion of Mathunian plant symbolism at the pre-mission briefing; he'd spent that time beating his own best time at minesweeper, so he didn't recall any of the details.

He moved over to the platform, noticing the Ancient script engraved shallowly along the base of the dais. It was worn to illegibility in some places, but he could translate enough of the text to get the gist: Something lies a precious one, resting in eternal slumber, something something roused in love's true embrace, awakening something something, and then smaller, below the main inscription, failsafe something eternity something something or about six hours.

Well. Apparently the Ancients had started the myth of Sleeping Beauty, too, but provided an out for people who weren't ATA compliant.

Rodney looked up at where Sheppard lay on the platform. Now that he was looking for it, he could see a faint shimmer of stasis field arcing over his body. The man looked perfectly fine, just--asleep; Rodney could probably safely let him wait out the pre-set timer that the stasis field appeared to have. Hell, the colonel could probably use the sleep, he'd been sporting some dark circles under his eyes lately.

Right now, the dark circles were largely hidden by the fan of Sheppard's eyelashes, which were so long, Rodney thought they might actually be brushing Sheppard's cheeks. Even unconscious, he still had the beginnings of crow's feet at the corners of his eyes, but the lines in his forehead had smoothed out considerably, and Rodney wondered if the stasis-nap was dreamless. His eyes roamed over Sheppard's face, taking in the bridge of his nose, the stubble already growing in on his cheeks, the soft point of his chin. He didn't usually see his friend's face so still, like this.

Rodney glanced away, suddenly feeling like he was invading Sheppard's privacy. Looking down at the platform, he could see that the surface was glowing, slightly, under all of the blue cloth. The stasis field emanated from the platform about an inch from the edge--all he'd probably have to do to turn it off would be to lean on the edge, and the gene would take care of the rest. He guessed the "embrace" bit of the text on the dais was just to ensure that people got close enough to the platform to deactivate it. Plus, the Ancients were kind of perverted.

So, right. He should just reach out and think off, and wake the colonel up. There would be the awkward conversation where he explained to Sheppard that the Mathunians would be expecting stories of his being awakened with a kiss, but Rodney figured he could bluster his way through that pretty quickly, and he and Sheppard could laugh at the sheer lunacy of the Ancients.

Or.

Rodney looked at Sheppard again. Cheeks, eyelashes, eyebrows, nose, chin, all very nice, indeed, but his lips. Right there, on his face, slightly parted, full and soft, entirely too pretty-- No, he thought, get the fairy tale right, McKay, they're beautiful. He's beautiful, and yes, you have noticed, you're too smart to fool yourself about that. Or not smart enough.

Because, really, why not? Why shouldn't he let himself, just this once, indulge in admiring John, in acknowledging just how attracted to him he was? In every sense of the word, Rodney felt pulled toward him, constantly, whether it was to bicker with him, or to save his life, or to just be near him, close enough to reach out and--

And now, for god's sake, the man was served up for him on a platform, restful, beautiful on a bed of blue, and he needed Rodney to touch him. Or just to wait six hours. Or just to touch the platform, he thought.

"Shut up, brain," Rodney said to himself. "Let me have this."

Before one part of him could talk another into or out of anything they'd all regret, Rodney took a breath, licked his lips, and leaned on the edge of the platform. The stasis field shimmered out of existence, and almost immediately, John's eyelashes began to flutter. Rodney moved forward, bracing a hand on either side of John's shoulders, and pressed his lips to John's.

They were so still, at first, as soft as he'd imagined, but motionless. He could feel John waking up beneath him, allowed himself to believe, just for a moment, that he was waking up because of him. Then John's lips parted as he drew in a deeper breath, and Rodney imagined letting himself lick his way into John's willing mouth.

But he had a friendship to salvage from this, and "unconscious" had never equated with "willing" in Rodney's book, so he pulled back, straightening, as John's eyes opened all the way.

"R'dney?" John croaked, throat dry from the stasis effects. "Were you just . . . kissing me?"

"Had to be done, Colonel, my apologies, you wouldn't believe the ridiculous things the Mathunians wanted us to do to get you back, all sorts of stupid trials, there were snakes, and barrels full of something really very dense, and a blacksmith, and--" he broke off when he noticed John's adorably (No, stop it, you're done with that now) confused frown. "They put you in a stasis field. We got you back. That's it."

"So, that's a 'yes' to the kissing, then?" Rodney nodded, and John stared down at the red flower in his hands. "Huh. Sorry I missed it," he muttered quietly. Since the chamber was absolutely silent, though, Rodney heard him quite clearly.

"Wait, what?" Rodney asked, incredulous. "But I-- but you don't-- this must be from the stasis, you're not-- I mean, you're very," he waved his hands in the general direction of John's body, "and your face is quite," it was grinning, right now, actually, "You're all, you know, and I'm, well, I'm--"

"Rodney," John interrupted him, leaning up on an elbow and reaching out his hand. "C'mere."

Rodney went, John's outstretched hand running along his shoulder, sliding up to grasp the back of his neck and pull him in for a decidedly more participative kiss. John's mouth awake was John's mouth alive, pressing and pulling and sucking and biting, tiny closed-lip kisses at the corner of Rodney's mouth, hot wet kisses as John parted his lips against Rodney's. This time, he did let himself lick at John's lower lip, let himself feel the hint of John's teeth as his tongue glided further in, let himself imagine (Was this really happening?) the possibility of more more more.

John's hands were in his hair, one sliding down his shoulders to rest on his lower back, pulling him closer, up onto the platform. Rodney's knee slid on one of the pieces of satin, out from under him, bringing his hips down onto John's, and -- oh -- that pressure might've been the best thing he'd felt in his entire life. John, gasping into his mouth, thrusting up against his thigh, appeared to agree.

But then he was pulling back, away, taking the heat of his mouth with him, and that wasn't right, that wasn't fair, Rodney thought, not when he'd just gotten there. "Rodney," John groaned, hands bracing Rodney's shoulders now, "wait, hold on, what about the Mathunians?"

Rodney sighed and dropped his hands from where they'd wound into John's hair. "Damn it," he said, pulling back. "This is the part where we remember that we're on a mission, isn't it, and that priestess is lurking around out there, and Teyla and Ronon are waiting for us to go negotiate a trade agreement, though why Teyla doesn't start without us, honestly, it would go faster and probably result in fewer explosions, but no, we have to go do our jobs, and it's going to take forever, and you're going to realize that this was all a big mistake, just stasis-sickness and stupid Ancient rituals and me taking advantage and--"

"Hey now, none of that," John said, sitting up fully and swinging his legs down off the platform, letting his knees bump Rodney's. "I mean, yes, up to the bit about the trade agreement. We should go watch Teyla do that," he said, eyes flicking over toward the door. "And then we can head back home, and . . . pick up where we left off," he finished, looking back at Rodney. John grasped Rodney's hand and pulled himself to his feet, crowding close into Rodney's space and staring down at him from his slightly greater height.

"That'll be hours from now," Rodney said, well aware that he was whining, and not caring one bit when his senses were positively thrumming with Johnjohnjohnjohnjohn.

"Hey, buck up, Rodney," John said, leaning in to press a quick, sweet kiss to Rodney's mouth. He pulled away with a smirk, and asked, "What's that saying? 'Someday, my prince will come'?"

'Oh, for the love of-- Sheppard, that's just crass!" Rodney said, smacking his arm and stepping back toward the door. John just grinned. "We were having a moment." That set John off, laughing his awkward har, har, har. "No no no, stop that, you sound like a muppet getting trampled by a donkey, please! I do not want to associate that with having a hard-on!"

By this point, John was bent forward, wheezing, supporting himself with hands on his thighs as he brayed. Rodney crossed his arms and glared at him until he could get the dirty old man sound under control. Finally able to breathe again, John looked up at him, still grinning. "You know you like it," he said, and Rodney could have sworn he saw him bat those impossibly long eyelashes at him.

"Yes, well," he said, as John stood up and walked over to join him by the door. "You're taking this whole thing rather well," he said, waving his hand to encompass the platform, the chamber, the two of them.

John looked thoughtful. "I guess you could say, I've had an awakening." Rodney rolled his eyes. "No, seriously, you've really opened my eyes, McKay."

"I'm glad you can find this situation so amusing, Colonel, considering that in this scenario, while I was heroically crossing a pit filled with venomous snakes and defending your virtue from horny teenage blacksmiths, you were playing the part of the princess." Rodney pulled open the door, letting a stream of brilliant sunlight into the chamber. He stepped outside, wondering how he hadn't noticed earlier what a beautiful day it was.

"I don't know, McKay," John said from within the chamber. Rodney turned back to look at him, but couldn't see into the dim room. "I'm guessing from the look of that platform that you only had to turn off the stasis field to get me out," he continued, finally stepping into the light. He was holding one of his arms behind his back.

"So?" Rodney asked, trying to peer around John's shoulder.

"So, basically, you unfroze me like Han Solo from carbonite," he said, pulling the red flower from behind his back. "And that would make you the princess," he concluded, and reached up to tuck the flower behind Rodney's ear. "Now c'mon, we've got to make sure the Coffee, Chocolate, and ZPMs Committee is represented at these trade negotiations." Rodney glared at him and plucked the flower from behind his ear.

John's eyes were still sparkling with good humor, but Rodney noticed that his smile had dimmed slightly as they made their way back to where Teyla and Ronon were talking with the priestess. Rodney bumped his shoulder into John's. "I'll have you know," he grumbled under his breath, "I am not a committee." He threaded the flower stem carefully through the webbing of his tac vest, and looked up.

John's grin was absolutely blinding.

Comments

[propinquitine.livejournal.com]

Hee, thank you! Glad you liked it! (Particularly since I've gotten so much enjoyment from your stories-- your Checkmate 'verse is about a billion kittens' worth of wonderful. :-)

[beadattitude.livejournal.com]

Oh, thank you very much! That's always lovely to hear!