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sga_saturdayTitle: Uprooting (or on AO3)
Author: busaikko
Pairing, Rating: John Sheppard/David Parrish, NC17
Summary: John gets the news they'd both known was coming. Or, relationship talks are not John Sheppard's favorite thing.
Being on Earth means briefings and debriefings and reports and people who know nothing but think they have a right to supervise David's work. Tell him what to do.
"I'll tell them where they can shove their guidelines," he rants, pacing his room, scrubbing his hands through his hair.
John's sitting on the bed, leaning back with his weight on one hand. He waits for David to swing back towards him and then says, quiet but fervent, "We're going home. April sixteenth."
David stops short, rocking back on his heels. "Well. Good."
John's smile stretches wide, amused. "Glad you approve."
So David has to shove him back and pin him down, and make John stop teasing him. They're going home, he thinks, feeling drunk on the knowledge, and gets John to fuck him through the mattress to celebrate.
Atlantis returns to Pegasus as quietly as its arrival was spectacular. Life quickly settles into comfortable routines, only occasionally interspersed with terror for John's safety. The McKay-Kellers get married; Torren turns three; the fifteenth anniversary of the fall of Sateda is marked by John's whole team shaving their heads. The growing-in stubble on John's head is more gray than brown, and John scratches it in annoyance as he tries to calculate when their anniversary is.
"Which anniversary?" David asks, trying to approach the question scientifically. "First kiss? First date?" He taps his fingertips together, remembering. "First time you said, very touchingly, You know I, I and started hyperventilating?"
John grabs a pillow and whips it hard in David's direction. David catches it.
Their life is good and comfortable. John's hair grows back; David changes from the hairstyle he's had from high school to short and spiky, and John says it looks hot. David doesn't think he's lying, considering the way John jumps him.
And then John gets the news they'd both known was coming, given how old John in and how long he's been stationed on Atlantis.
David doesn't know when John was told officially. He's pretty sure that John probably heard through the grapevine first, the esoteric network of aging SGC colonels stretched over two galaxies. John dropped the news over lunch, asking David to come by after work. Seven hours later, safe in his quarters, John still looks terrible: tense and jittery, face drawn, hands clenched.
It reminds David of John's reaction when DADT was recalled. He had expected John to be happier. But... "I've been lying to everyone's faces for the past twenty years," John said. "So, great, I can be queer now, but if I come out, I'm queer and a liar." David had tried to say something, and John had talked right over him, ticking points off on his fingers. "Every time someone asked me if I had a date, if I was seeing anyone, what I did on leave, did I want kids, would I mind working holidays because it's not like I have family or plans or – " John had cut himself off, tossed his hands up, and changed the subject pointedly.
David thinks about that now, as he listens to John sounding absolutely dead while he explains his orders, even though he should be proud. David's proud of him. He wishes that was enough.
John's being promoted – about time, in David's completely biased opinion. He's also being reassigned. It's temporary, John says; just three years, maybe four. The US military is finally letting the SGC open a school. John's been banging on doors since returning to Pegasus to have something like this started up, where selected students can learn how to deal with aliens and alien cultures, how to work with advanced technology, how to fly spaceships. Rodney's pet name for the project is No More Redshirts; John has amassed chilling statistics on all the deaths incurred since the inception of the Stargate program that might have been prevented with more knowledge and better training. The Icarus investigation brought even more problems to light, and John had thrown himself into networking for funding, ruthlessly exploiting connections David hadn't know he had.
John won't be running the school, but they want him as head teacher. David thinks it sounds perfect for him.
Except that the people in charge don't know that John's gay and pretty much married – six years at the next anniversary of whatever they'd finally decided on. John made the decision years ago to pull David into the closet with him, and now....
David has no clue, except that John's really unhappy when he should be celebrating.
"It's going to be on Nifhel Base," John says, crossing his arms and leaning back against his desk. "It's... a rock, in space, with a stargate. Atmosphere and gravity are the site's only selling points. The buildings are prefab. It looks like a trailer park. On a rock. In space."
David sits on the bed and crosses his legs, waiting for John to get to a point, some point, any point.
"The gate's not supposed to be used for nonmilitary operations," John says. "Nifhel Base doesn't even have lichen. I asked," he adds, and David's nearly amused by the non sequitur. "When I took the tour, and we went through Hydroponics."
"Are you asking me to come with you?" David watches John's head drop, making him somehow look even more miserable.
"I was going to, until I found out the lichen thing," John says, after a long moment spent carefully putting his words together. "If I take the job I could probably swing something spousal. There's precedent. You could come. But it would suck for you. So I could not take the job, and they wouldn't kick me out of the Stargate program, but I still wouldn't be on Atlantis."
David has no doubt that the SGC would not thoughtfully pick John's next placement based on the diversity of the local biosphere, and they still wouldn't make sure David had a place where John went. Because they still didn't know.
"I love Jay Brannan as much as the next boy," David says, as straight-faced as he can. "That doesn't mean I want to be your housewife."
John doesn't laugh, but he does look up enough to give David a wry quirk of his mouth.
"Get me the name of the person in charge, and we'll see if they can use me in Hydroponics. I've been dying to do more work with extreme environments. I'll put together some proposals. I'm sure I can get a grant. Government funding. You know." He returns John's raised eyebrows with one of his own, a look he gives to researchers who should know better. "Honestly, John."
"Okay," John says, and lets out his breath sharply, relief and hope stark on his face. "Good to know that's on the table."
David taps his fingers on the air and grins, the camp mad scientist impersonation that departmental meetings occasionally drive him to. "I'd rather have you on the bed. I could use the distraction while I'm plotting."
"The what, now?" John says, muffled a bit by the shirt he's pulling over his head.
After David's had one of the slow wet blowjobs that John is so perfect at, John's non-vocal with desperation. David just barely gets John's pants out of the way and wraps his hand around John's dick before John's coming hard, shaking head to toe with the effort to keep quiet.
John stays the night, and the next morning he wakes David up early with strong coffee and athletic sex. John keeps an eye on the clock and is dressed for the day, hair combed and teeth brushed, by what David always thinks of as sneak-out time. But John doesn't leave; instead, he leans against David's desk, failing to look casual as he watches David make the bed.
"I'm going to tell the SGC," John says. "Do the paperwork. Might as well. Can't hurt." He gives David a crooked smile. "Nifhel Base will be a quarter the size of Atlantis."
"No secrets," David says, half declaration and half question.
"I'm starving," John says, and jerks his head towards the door. "Hurry up."
"Love you, too," David tosses over his shoulder with a sardonic air kiss, but he can't help feeling an edge of nerves. He's waited years to be open about their relationship, and now. . . he tells himself he's being ridiculous to get butterflies in his stomach at the idea of walking into the mess hall with John. "You had better treat me right, John Sheppard."
"You get what you deserve," John says with a smirk that reminds David very strongly of where John's mouth was thirty minutes earlier. David catches the front of John's jacket as he walks to the door, kissing John to distraction and then shoving him out into the hallway.
When David sees John at dinner that night, John's expression is nearly perfectly blank, probably from the effort of not snapping at all the people who, David is sure, mean well with their congratulations and their curiosity. God knows David's ready for his fifteen minutes of fame to be long over; he's amazed by how many casual acquaintances have asked inappropriate questions today. John's never graceful when under scrutiny or when he's not in control of his life. David feels sorry for him.
But then Teyla puts her hand on John's arm and murmurs something, and John turns his attention from whatever Rodney's ranting about to look up, eyes scanning the crowd. When he sees David he grins, all the discomfort pushed aside, and right there is the reason, David thinks, that they've survived as a couple. They make each other happy, and they don't take their happiness for granted. David waves from the dinner line, and John points at the empty chair across from Teyla. David thinks he's pretty damn lucky in love.
Author: busaikko
Pairing, Rating: John Sheppard/David Parrish, NC17
Summary: John gets the news they'd both known was coming. Or, relationship talks are not John Sheppard's favorite thing.
Being on Earth means briefings and debriefings and reports and people who know nothing but think they have a right to supervise David's work. Tell him what to do.
"I'll tell them where they can shove their guidelines," he rants, pacing his room, scrubbing his hands through his hair.
John's sitting on the bed, leaning back with his weight on one hand. He waits for David to swing back towards him and then says, quiet but fervent, "We're going home. April sixteenth."
David stops short, rocking back on his heels. "Well. Good."
John's smile stretches wide, amused. "Glad you approve."
So David has to shove him back and pin him down, and make John stop teasing him. They're going home, he thinks, feeling drunk on the knowledge, and gets John to fuck him through the mattress to celebrate.
Atlantis returns to Pegasus as quietly as its arrival was spectacular. Life quickly settles into comfortable routines, only occasionally interspersed with terror for John's safety. The McKay-Kellers get married; Torren turns three; the fifteenth anniversary of the fall of Sateda is marked by John's whole team shaving their heads. The growing-in stubble on John's head is more gray than brown, and John scratches it in annoyance as he tries to calculate when their anniversary is.
"Which anniversary?" David asks, trying to approach the question scientifically. "First kiss? First date?" He taps his fingertips together, remembering. "First time you said, very touchingly, You know I, I and started hyperventilating?"
John grabs a pillow and whips it hard in David's direction. David catches it.
Their life is good and comfortable. John's hair grows back; David changes from the hairstyle he's had from high school to short and spiky, and John says it looks hot. David doesn't think he's lying, considering the way John jumps him.
And then John gets the news they'd both known was coming, given how old John in and how long he's been stationed on Atlantis.
David doesn't know when John was told officially. He's pretty sure that John probably heard through the grapevine first, the esoteric network of aging SGC colonels stretched over two galaxies. John dropped the news over lunch, asking David to come by after work. Seven hours later, safe in his quarters, John still looks terrible: tense and jittery, face drawn, hands clenched.
It reminds David of John's reaction when DADT was recalled. He had expected John to be happier. But... "I've been lying to everyone's faces for the past twenty years," John said. "So, great, I can be queer now, but if I come out, I'm queer and a liar." David had tried to say something, and John had talked right over him, ticking points off on his fingers. "Every time someone asked me if I had a date, if I was seeing anyone, what I did on leave, did I want kids, would I mind working holidays because it's not like I have family or plans or – " John had cut himself off, tossed his hands up, and changed the subject pointedly.
David thinks about that now, as he listens to John sounding absolutely dead while he explains his orders, even though he should be proud. David's proud of him. He wishes that was enough.
John's being promoted – about time, in David's completely biased opinion. He's also being reassigned. It's temporary, John says; just three years, maybe four. The US military is finally letting the SGC open a school. John's been banging on doors since returning to Pegasus to have something like this started up, where selected students can learn how to deal with aliens and alien cultures, how to work with advanced technology, how to fly spaceships. Rodney's pet name for the project is No More Redshirts; John has amassed chilling statistics on all the deaths incurred since the inception of the Stargate program that might have been prevented with more knowledge and better training. The Icarus investigation brought even more problems to light, and John had thrown himself into networking for funding, ruthlessly exploiting connections David hadn't know he had.
John won't be running the school, but they want him as head teacher. David thinks it sounds perfect for him.
Except that the people in charge don't know that John's gay and pretty much married – six years at the next anniversary of whatever they'd finally decided on. John made the decision years ago to pull David into the closet with him, and now....
David has no clue, except that John's really unhappy when he should be celebrating.
"It's going to be on Nifhel Base," John says, crossing his arms and leaning back against his desk. "It's... a rock, in space, with a stargate. Atmosphere and gravity are the site's only selling points. The buildings are prefab. It looks like a trailer park. On a rock. In space."
David sits on the bed and crosses his legs, waiting for John to get to a point, some point, any point.
"The gate's not supposed to be used for nonmilitary operations," John says. "Nifhel Base doesn't even have lichen. I asked," he adds, and David's nearly amused by the non sequitur. "When I took the tour, and we went through Hydroponics."
"Are you asking me to come with you?" David watches John's head drop, making him somehow look even more miserable.
"I was going to, until I found out the lichen thing," John says, after a long moment spent carefully putting his words together. "If I take the job I could probably swing something spousal. There's precedent. You could come. But it would suck for you. So I could not take the job, and they wouldn't kick me out of the Stargate program, but I still wouldn't be on Atlantis."
David has no doubt that the SGC would not thoughtfully pick John's next placement based on the diversity of the local biosphere, and they still wouldn't make sure David had a place where John went. Because they still didn't know.
"I love Jay Brannan as much as the next boy," David says, as straight-faced as he can. "That doesn't mean I want to be your housewife."
John doesn't laugh, but he does look up enough to give David a wry quirk of his mouth.
"Get me the name of the person in charge, and we'll see if they can use me in Hydroponics. I've been dying to do more work with extreme environments. I'll put together some proposals. I'm sure I can get a grant. Government funding. You know." He returns John's raised eyebrows with one of his own, a look he gives to researchers who should know better. "Honestly, John."
"Okay," John says, and lets out his breath sharply, relief and hope stark on his face. "Good to know that's on the table."
David taps his fingers on the air and grins, the camp mad scientist impersonation that departmental meetings occasionally drive him to. "I'd rather have you on the bed. I could use the distraction while I'm plotting."
"The what, now?" John says, muffled a bit by the shirt he's pulling over his head.
After David's had one of the slow wet blowjobs that John is so perfect at, John's non-vocal with desperation. David just barely gets John's pants out of the way and wraps his hand around John's dick before John's coming hard, shaking head to toe with the effort to keep quiet.
John stays the night, and the next morning he wakes David up early with strong coffee and athletic sex. John keeps an eye on the clock and is dressed for the day, hair combed and teeth brushed, by what David always thinks of as sneak-out time. But John doesn't leave; instead, he leans against David's desk, failing to look casual as he watches David make the bed.
"I'm going to tell the SGC," John says. "Do the paperwork. Might as well. Can't hurt." He gives David a crooked smile. "Nifhel Base will be a quarter the size of Atlantis."
"No secrets," David says, half declaration and half question.
"I'm starving," John says, and jerks his head towards the door. "Hurry up."
"Love you, too," David tosses over his shoulder with a sardonic air kiss, but he can't help feeling an edge of nerves. He's waited years to be open about their relationship, and now. . . he tells himself he's being ridiculous to get butterflies in his stomach at the idea of walking into the mess hall with John. "You had better treat me right, John Sheppard."
"You get what you deserve," John says with a smirk that reminds David very strongly of where John's mouth was thirty minutes earlier. David catches the front of John's jacket as he walks to the door, kissing John to distraction and then shoving him out into the hallway.
When David sees John at dinner that night, John's expression is nearly perfectly blank, probably from the effort of not snapping at all the people who, David is sure, mean well with their congratulations and their curiosity. God knows David's ready for his fifteen minutes of fame to be long over; he's amazed by how many casual acquaintances have asked inappropriate questions today. John's never graceful when under scrutiny or when he's not in control of his life. David feels sorry for him.
But then Teyla puts her hand on John's arm and murmurs something, and John turns his attention from whatever Rodney's ranting about to look up, eyes scanning the crowd. When he sees David he grins, all the discomfort pushed aside, and right there is the reason, David thinks, that they've survived as a couple. They make each other happy, and they don't take their happiness for granted. David waves from the dinner line, and John points at the empty chair across from Teyla. David thinks he's pretty damn lucky in love.
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no subject
Date: 2014-03-23 01:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-23 02:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-23 01:52 am (UTC)but how much do I love that smile John gives David when he sees him in the mess. <3 <3 <3
(added tag per request!)
no subject
Date: 2014-03-23 02:27 am (UTC)ETA: Thank you for the tag!
Wow!
Date: 2014-03-23 04:13 am (UTC)And this: "First time you said, very touchingly, You know I, I and started hyperventilating?"
OMG, I just about spewed, I was laughing so hard!!! ::snark::
Re: Wow!
Date: 2014-03-23 12:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-27 08:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-28 12:59 am (UTC)The official SGC position on cultural sensitivity seems to be a blank uncomprehending stare, so *appoints you full professor*
no subject
Date: 2014-03-31 07:41 am (UTC)Score! Just so you know, there is probably going to be a LOT of knuckle smacking in my course. Whenever anyone says something: racist/homophobic/sexist/ethnocentric/colonialist etc, the ruler is coming out. The beatings will continue until you can step through a Gate and *not* offend an entire planet. ;)
no subject
Date: 2014-03-31 08:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-31 08:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-31 10:30 pm (UTC)(seriously, how hard is it to look up on the internet what a diplomat -- for example -- actually does? And then write a character who doesn't either trample over local people's religious rituals or okay breaking the Geneva Conventions.)
no subject
Date: 2014-04-02 05:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-04-02 06:12 am (UTC)(I was just reading this interview with David Hewlett and he had some interesting things to say about Momoa and type-casting, so that's on my breain!)
no subject
Date: 2014-04-02 07:28 pm (UTC)Ohhh, I'll go and read David's interview. I'm very interested in what he has to say about that.
Unrelated but I love your Attack on Titan icon! And the Hairspray one before that!
no subject
Date: 2014-04-02 11:20 pm (UTC)Like, from one of Torri's con interviews,
Obviously I wasn't there, but all signs point to JoeF being angry on Torri's behalf and at her treatment by the "boy's club" of TPTB. I think if she'd wanted to come back on the show, he'd have fought for her. But I think she did not want that, and JoeF respected her wishes. (The thing about actors is that all their future jobs depend on them putting up a front of being a team player and never badmouthing their former bosses and so on... JoeF does this a lot, and I notice he also doesn't get a lot of work: coincidence? But reading between the lines Torri was way more upset than she'll allow herself to say to thousands of fans. Of course she was upset with the decision! And the assholes who kept dicking her around! So upset that in S5 when they wanted her to come in and do an episode she refused! She hates them all! <-- speculation)
(I deleted off all my LJ icons at one point, and now don't have enough! But I'm too lazy to upload more...)
no subject
Date: 2014-04-04 07:33 am (UTC)And I think you are very right about her being like eff you to TPTB. Her refusing to even do a cameo was very clear in terms of messaging. I'm really happy to hear that Joe was pissed off on her behalf. I'm now wondering about what you said about Joe being outspoken and the correlation between that and how often he gets work. He certainly doesn't need the money, so I assumed he was just enjoying his life and not worrying too much about it.
no subject
Date: 2014-04-04 07:57 am (UTC)Jennifer replaced Carson, though, which I liked, because it gave SGA another main female character. Sam replaced Elizabeth (because Amanda had a year left on her contract). I think it would have been cool if Atlantis had been working to establish itself as a political player in Pegasus (instead of just going someplace, and then coming home): there would have been a lot of conflict for Elizabeth, making alliances and treaties which might not have been seen as necessary by Earth. Or allowing in a certain number of Pegasus locals to be trained in Ancient technology the way Teyla was (or in Wraith tech, the better to steal darts...), and having to deal with the unpleasant role of being a reviled gatekeeper keeping people away from their Ancestral heritage. Inter-cultural conflict is interesting! I think TPTB hampered themselves by not planning to have half the regular cast be Pegasus locals, which is why we never see most of the Athosians, Sora, etc. again.
no subject
Date: 2014-04-08 02:28 am (UTC)Um. I know I feel differently than apparently a lot of people in the fandom who wanted independent Atlantis, or at least major power player Atlantis, but I wanted them kept tied to earth. The show already felt way too much like White Savior Saves The Day for me. Making them an actual colonial colony would have been too much IMO. It would have definitely provided good drama and character development but it would have needed much, much better writers than those if it wanted to avoid being even more horribly sexist and racist. I thought the show was a little bit self-aware when they had that episode where the team is captured and put on trial for all the crap that happened when they came...but the way that episode played out convinced me that they were definitely NOT self-aware. And, like you said, this may have been more feasible if half the cast were Pegasus natives and there were more than two PoC. I only trust fandom to do Independent Colony!Atlantis. lol
no subject
Date: 2014-04-08 11:33 am (UTC)I don't like the trope of independent Atlantis in the sense of it becoming a big colonial power: I wouldn't want to see it as the Monrovia of Pegasus. But if Atlantis had been kept isolated, and had to turn to the Genii to manufacture weapons, and trade for local clothes, and deal with intermarriage, and get schooled by, say, Ronon for making stupid assumptions like "it's an old wives' tale about the shrine that cures this disease" -- in a show where the Egyptian and Norse gods are, hello, aliens, and Arthurian legends are real??? The basis for the entire SG series is "legends and folklore are about advanced technology". /tangent For most of SG1 the stories are about "going places and then going home to Earth" (with the exception of Daniel Jackson, who lived on Abydos); they're tourists, not permanent residents, and it doesn't matter if they never learn the language or the customs. Atlantis could have been a story where people went with the (underlying, probably) expectations of being The Civilized Saviors, and instead found themselves The Backwards Immigrants With Bad Manners. (I myself am an immigrant and still have problems with language and culture after 20 years... on the same planet, even!)
On the one hand, I liked the episode where they were on trial because Woolsey was such an underhanded conniving bastard gaming the system: that felt really honest to me: that wasn't Woolsey pretending that they had altruistic motives or were innocent. But I hated (fiery rage!) that the judge who had it in for Atlantis was this hysterical, emotional, irrational woman (on a panel with "the noble man of logic" and "the practical warrior man").