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sga_saturdayTitle: Wandering Star
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
esteefee
Pairing: Ronon/John
Categories: AU, established relationship
Warnings: very vague reference to drug addiction
Words: 583
Summary: This is John's favorite part of the song.
Wandering Star
by esteefee
Those who have seen the needle's eye, now tread
Like a husk, from which all that was, now has fled
And the masks that the monsters wear
To feed upon their prey.
"Wandering Star" — Portishead
John leaned forward so he could see around Ronon's elbow. John's favorite part of this damned song was coming up; they were heading toward the progression where he'd added that weird drop to the minor third in the bass line.
He remembered when he'd spontaneously made the change on stage at CBGB, how Ronon's eyebrows had gone up at the way it created a painful dissonance with Rodney's synth and Ronon's guitar line and Teyla's breathy vocals, and how when John dropped down to the root to resolve it, the bass humming in his hand, the chord ringing between them, Ronon had smiled and then drawn his eyes over to Teyla.
Teyla, who had her head thrown back, her eyes closed, and her lips drawn in a painful smile as she sang the sad lyrics.
They all missed Aiden. They'd never stop.
:::
After the gig, John tracked Ronon out of the corner of his eye while they broke down their gear. It always took Ronon longer because of all of his foot pedals, as well as his fans bugging him for his time, so John helped out with coiling cables to avoid the crush.
"I'm just saying—the keyboard player never gets any groupies," Rodney said. He appeared to be bitching to Lorne yet again.
"You think the drummer does?"
"More than I do—and I'm the true musical genius here," Rodney grumbled.
John really hoped Ronon wasn't listening. The arguments got heated enough when they were discussing song credits for the albums, considering that Ronon wrote all the lyrics and the band helped with Rodney's arrangements.
"You need a hand with your gear, Rodney?" John asked, hoping to shut him up.
"I got it, Shep," Lorne said, jerking his head backstage.
Crap. Ronon had disappeared while John wasn't paying attention.
John tracked him down in the green room stuffing things into his duffle. "He doesn't really mean that shit," John said, putting down his bass and amp so he could bump up behind Ronon and put his arms around his waist.
Ronon finished zipping his bag and then turned. "He's a putz."
"Yeah, that's our boy." John leaned in. Ronon smelled like sweat and the leather strap from his Gibson, with a hint of the cornstarch he used on his palm to keep the action smooth. "Your solo on Tastes Like Chicken kicked ass."
"Thanks." Ronon leaned in and nuzzled him. John tilted his head back to give him some room, because the scrape of Ronon's teeth and the feel of his soft lips wasn't anything he ever planned to take for granted.
"It's true, you know. You do get all the groupies." John nudged in closer so he could rub his thigh against Ronon's dick. "This is me grouping, right here."
Ronon chuckled and bit down on his neck, right where it drove John nuts.
"God. Yeah." John pulled Ronon's head down and kissed him, sucking on Ronon's lower lip.
The door opened behind him. "Oh, Jesus. My eyes! My eyes!"
"Shut up, McKay." Ronon squeezed John once before releasing him.
"It's just—oh my God, seriously?"
John set his jaw, but before he could say anything, Ronon said, "Just think—more groupies for you," and slammed the door in Rodney's face.
John started laughing. "Well, that's one way to shut him up about it."
Ronon just grabbed him and started kissing him again.
John figured bass players only got a few groupies, but they were the damned best.
End.
A/N:
I don't think the Atlantis band would sound much like Portishead, but the lyrics were too perfect.
Author:
esteefeePairing: Ronon/John
Categories: AU, established relationship
Warnings: very vague reference to drug addiction
Words: 583
Summary: This is John's favorite part of the song.
Wandering Star
by esteefee
Those who have seen the needle's eye, now tread
Like a husk, from which all that was, now has fled
And the masks that the monsters wear
To feed upon their prey.
"Wandering Star" — Portishead
John leaned forward so he could see around Ronon's elbow. John's favorite part of this damned song was coming up; they were heading toward the progression where he'd added that weird drop to the minor third in the bass line.
He remembered when he'd spontaneously made the change on stage at CBGB, how Ronon's eyebrows had gone up at the way it created a painful dissonance with Rodney's synth and Ronon's guitar line and Teyla's breathy vocals, and how when John dropped down to the root to resolve it, the bass humming in his hand, the chord ringing between them, Ronon had smiled and then drawn his eyes over to Teyla.
Teyla, who had her head thrown back, her eyes closed, and her lips drawn in a painful smile as she sang the sad lyrics.
They all missed Aiden. They'd never stop.
:::
After the gig, John tracked Ronon out of the corner of his eye while they broke down their gear. It always took Ronon longer because of all of his foot pedals, as well as his fans bugging him for his time, so John helped out with coiling cables to avoid the crush.
"I'm just saying—the keyboard player never gets any groupies," Rodney said. He appeared to be bitching to Lorne yet again.
"You think the drummer does?"
"More than I do—and I'm the true musical genius here," Rodney grumbled.
John really hoped Ronon wasn't listening. The arguments got heated enough when they were discussing song credits for the albums, considering that Ronon wrote all the lyrics and the band helped with Rodney's arrangements.
"You need a hand with your gear, Rodney?" John asked, hoping to shut him up.
"I got it, Shep," Lorne said, jerking his head backstage.
Crap. Ronon had disappeared while John wasn't paying attention.
John tracked him down in the green room stuffing things into his duffle. "He doesn't really mean that shit," John said, putting down his bass and amp so he could bump up behind Ronon and put his arms around his waist.
Ronon finished zipping his bag and then turned. "He's a putz."
"Yeah, that's our boy." John leaned in. Ronon smelled like sweat and the leather strap from his Gibson, with a hint of the cornstarch he used on his palm to keep the action smooth. "Your solo on Tastes Like Chicken kicked ass."
"Thanks." Ronon leaned in and nuzzled him. John tilted his head back to give him some room, because the scrape of Ronon's teeth and the feel of his soft lips wasn't anything he ever planned to take for granted.
"It's true, you know. You do get all the groupies." John nudged in closer so he could rub his thigh against Ronon's dick. "This is me grouping, right here."
Ronon chuckled and bit down on his neck, right where it drove John nuts.
"God. Yeah." John pulled Ronon's head down and kissed him, sucking on Ronon's lower lip.
The door opened behind him. "Oh, Jesus. My eyes! My eyes!"
"Shut up, McKay." Ronon squeezed John once before releasing him.
"It's just—oh my God, seriously?"
John set his jaw, but before he could say anything, Ronon said, "Just think—more groupies for you," and slammed the door in Rodney's face.
John started laughing. "Well, that's one way to shut him up about it."
Ronon just grabbed him and started kissing him again.
John figured bass players only got a few groupies, but they were the damned best.
End.
A/N:
I don't think the Atlantis band would sound much like Portishead, but the lyrics were too perfect.
