SGA fanfic: "Arthur of Atlantis"
May. 8th, 2009 01:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eliyesTitle: Arthur of Atlantis
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Characters: John Sheppard, Rodney McKay
Rating: E for Everyone!
Author's Notes: Missing scene for SGA 5x06 "The Shrine"; spoilers for that episode and also SGA 2x15 "The Tower", SGA 3x08 "McKay & Mrs. Miller, and SGA 3x12 "Echoes".
Even after they collected their empties and went inside, set up a cot for John in Rodney's room, and turned out the lights, it kept running through John's head. 'You're a good friend, Arthur,' Rodney had said. It had been perfect comedic timing.
But as John lay waiting for sleep to come again, if it would, his mind carding through memories of his time with the irascible scientist as his friend, he remembered another time when Rodney had called him 'Arthur'.
For some reason, they had been talking about that whole fiasco with the buried Ancient city a couple of years before: the world where those with the gene were nobility, and those without were serfs. (John was still thankful that Rodney hadn't been around to be scooped up by the gene-detecting guards, and it had nothing to do with Mara.) Anyway, with the people of the Tower having treated John like a prospective king, the inevitable jokes had occurred.
"We should call you Namor," Rodney had declared over dinner. "Your hair's the right colour; we'll just get you a square-top cut, more in line with military regs --" Here, he had reached out to muss John's hair, but John had deflected with his arm, laughing. "-- and with those pointy ears and that pointy nose --"
"I have a pointy nose?!" John had protested. "Anyway, you're way more like Namor in personality."
"Am not."
"Are, too. Besides, he's a prince. They were thinking king."
"Well, Elizabeth is in charge. But since Prince Namor's mother was collaborating with the Nazis, I suppose she wouldn't appreciate the comparison. You're not blond enough to be Arthur Curry."
"I also don't have a mustache."
"True, although it's a near thing if you have a day without access to a razor," Rodney sniggered.
"On the other hand, I don't have wings on my ankles," John pointed out.
"Unless you do, and that's why you wear your boots so loose!"
"Right," John said, and tugged off a boot and sock, yanking up his pant leg to show a hairy ankle, devoid of wings.
"You're really tall for a hobbit," Rodney observed.
"Don't start, Merry," John warned, adding, "though it would be cool to fly..."
"Psh. Like wings on your ankles would actually work."
"Worked for Hermes. Hey, can't Aquaman fly, anyway?"
"Um. Possibly?" Rodney seemed dubious.
"So, no wings at all." John pointed his dinner roll at Rodney. "And in Pegasus, fish are telepathic with me."
Rodney had spluttered his coffee, and eventually said, "Fine, Arthur," and threw a grape at John's head.
At the time, John hadn't realized they were 'having a moment'. And yet, looking back, that sort of thing happened all the time. Rodney was one of those people who John just clicked with, instantly -- like Teyla, like Ford, or Elizabeth, like Ronon.
He rolled over on the tiny cot and gazed fondly at the man sleeping a few feet away. Rodney was drooling a little, as usual, and even that was familiar. Even that could be added to the list of things that John didn't want to lose.
He would not say good-bye. He couldn't, not ever, because that meant giving up hope, and if there was anything his time in Atlantis -- and more specifically his friendship with Rodney -- had taught him, it was that impossible odds didn't have to be. So he wouldn't give up.
And he would do his damnedest to be Rodney's 'good friend' until the end, whenever that might be.
FIN
FYI, Aquaman can't actually fly.
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Characters: John Sheppard, Rodney McKay
Rating: E for Everyone!
Author's Notes: Missing scene for SGA 5x06 "The Shrine"; spoilers for that episode and also SGA 2x15 "The Tower", SGA 3x08 "McKay & Mrs. Miller, and SGA 3x12 "Echoes".
Even after they collected their empties and went inside, set up a cot for John in Rodney's room, and turned out the lights, it kept running through John's head. 'You're a good friend, Arthur,' Rodney had said. It had been perfect comedic timing.
But as John lay waiting for sleep to come again, if it would, his mind carding through memories of his time with the irascible scientist as his friend, he remembered another time when Rodney had called him 'Arthur'.
For some reason, they had been talking about that whole fiasco with the buried Ancient city a couple of years before: the world where those with the gene were nobility, and those without were serfs. (John was still thankful that Rodney hadn't been around to be scooped up by the gene-detecting guards, and it had nothing to do with Mara.) Anyway, with the people of the Tower having treated John like a prospective king, the inevitable jokes had occurred.
"We should call you Namor," Rodney had declared over dinner. "Your hair's the right colour; we'll just get you a square-top cut, more in line with military regs --" Here, he had reached out to muss John's hair, but John had deflected with his arm, laughing. "-- and with those pointy ears and that pointy nose --"
"I have a pointy nose?!" John had protested. "Anyway, you're way more like Namor in personality."
"Am not."
"Are, too. Besides, he's a prince. They were thinking king."
"Well, Elizabeth is in charge. But since Prince Namor's mother was collaborating with the Nazis, I suppose she wouldn't appreciate the comparison. You're not blond enough to be Arthur Curry."
"I also don't have a mustache."
"True, although it's a near thing if you have a day without access to a razor," Rodney sniggered.
"On the other hand, I don't have wings on my ankles," John pointed out.
"Unless you do, and that's why you wear your boots so loose!"
"Right," John said, and tugged off a boot and sock, yanking up his pant leg to show a hairy ankle, devoid of wings.
"You're really tall for a hobbit," Rodney observed.
"Don't start, Merry," John warned, adding, "though it would be cool to fly..."
"Psh. Like wings on your ankles would actually work."
"Worked for Hermes. Hey, can't Aquaman fly, anyway?"
"Um. Possibly?" Rodney seemed dubious.
"So, no wings at all." John pointed his dinner roll at Rodney. "And in Pegasus, fish are telepathic with me."
Rodney had spluttered his coffee, and eventually said, "Fine, Arthur," and threw a grape at John's head.
At the time, John hadn't realized they were 'having a moment'. And yet, looking back, that sort of thing happened all the time. Rodney was one of those people who John just clicked with, instantly -- like Teyla, like Ford, or Elizabeth, like Ronon.
He rolled over on the tiny cot and gazed fondly at the man sleeping a few feet away. Rodney was drooling a little, as usual, and even that was familiar. Even that could be added to the list of things that John didn't want to lose.
He would not say good-bye. He couldn't, not ever, because that meant giving up hope, and if there was anything his time in Atlantis -- and more specifically his friendship with Rodney -- had taught him, it was that impossible odds didn't have to be. So he wouldn't give up.
And he would do his damnedest to be Rodney's 'good friend' until the end, whenever that might be.
FYI, Aquaman can't actually fly.