ekaterinn | (no subject)

Happy Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Holidays to all of you! I'm finally settling down to read

yuletide before dinner, including the story written for me: Make Me An Offer which is a NERO WOLFE story! I'm so excited!

In the meantime, I wanted to post this Stargate: Atlantis story. It's short, just over 500 words and not obviously holiday-themed, but I wrote it with the idea of coming home for Christmas:

The corridors were bare and quiet; only the murmur of the engines accented the sound of John's footsteps as he made his way down B deck. He sometimes felt that the Dedalus was much too big in a way that Atlantis wasn't, but then he had always preferred the puddlejumpers and cloudhoppers. Or maybe he was just feeling a little restless, a little tired. It had been a long trip, and pretty much the only thing John had got out of it was the confirmation that he didn't fit in on Earth anymore. He wasn't sure how a whole planet can feel awkward and strange, like riding his old ten-speed after he got his driver's license, but his uncertainty didn't stop it from being true.

It was midnight and they were a few hours out from Atlantis. All he wanted to do is sleep, forget the briefings and the reports for a while. He turned right at the corner, keyed in the passcode and stepped in through the door. When he flicked on the light, the figure on the bed made a noise. John smiled and dimmed the light. Ten years and a policy change had brought him this: Rodney curled up on his bed, snoring softly. John shucked off his uniform and went into the tiny bathroom to brush his teeth. When he was done, he splashed water on his face, staring at himself in the mirror. The grey at his temples still surprised him, though Rodney took every chance he had to tease him about it. The scar, running diagonally down his right cheek, was less unexpected, although Rodney had never cracked a joke about it. But he would sometimes trace the scar with his finger and then kiss it, as if to make it better. Leaving thoughts of old battles behind, John walked back into the main room of the cabin.

Rodney had shifted on the bed, and John saw that he had fallen asleep clutching his open laptop. Gently, he pried Rodney's fingers away from it, prompting a sigh from the scientist. Ever since Rodney's hands had been burned (and healed), they had been even more sensitive, responding to the lightest of John's touches. He closed the laptop and placed it on the desk, moving a stack of reports (his) and three empty coffee mugs (Rodney's) to one side. He yawned, and blinked at the clock on the bedside table. The lights flashed 12:23, and John climbed into bed, nudging Rodney so that he would move over a bit more.

Rodney's body was solid and warm next to his. John slung his arm over Rodney's shoulder, suddenly glad of the tight quarters. He found Rodney's mouth in the dark, and kissed it, skin-hungry and bone-tired. Closing his eyes, he breathed in Rodney, sweat and the bad ventilation in the Dedalus's lab and just the hint of coffee. In the morning, he would see the lights of Atlantis though the small cabin window, welcoming them home, home.

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stellahobbit.livejournal.com

That's lovely.

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(no subject)

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