Natalie (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
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slashing_lorne2009-12-22 11:09 pm
blueskypenguin.livejournal.com) wrote in slashing_lorne2009-12-22 11:09 pm
Entry tags:
Twelve Days of Lorne | Fic: Season's Headaches | Lorne/Sheppard
Title: Season's Headaches
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
blueskypenguin
Fandom: SGA
Pairing: Lorne/Sheppard
Rating: G
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Yeah, so not mine. Not the characters, settings, hell, even the painting skills.
Christmas on Atlantis (once the dates were settled of course) was always a rather haphazard affair. For a start, you couldn’t really call it ‘Christmas’. Oh, they all accepted that Christmas was a generally secular occasion, and life at the SGC could erode anyone’s belief in gods, but if any preference was shown to one religion or group, all hell broke loose.
Of course, then they complained that they weren’t represented enough. Evan had found that there was no pleasing some people.
Minor holidays weren’t a problem and each religion and nationality saw to themselves, but the major ones.... oh, boy. After four years, Evan was getting used to it and he’d perfected his system for this holiday: the Atlantean Winter Festival. The Athosians and various minor allies provided all the traditional winter foods, from American and English to Polish and Indian, that the supplies run could not provide. Any decoration was at the crewmember’s discretion, and safety regulations and the threat of invasion at various turns usually kept it to a minimum.
Then, John brought a Christmas tree through the gate.
“Do you have any idea of the headache you caused me?” Evan asked John later, on the couch in Evan’s quarters.
John rolled his eyes from where his head rested in Evan’s lap, “Woolsey thought it was great! Who doesn’t want a Christmas tree?”
“Why do you think we’ve never had one before?”
“Because...” John knew there was a right answer to this... “We’ve never been able to find one?”
Evan sighed and tugged at John’s hair lightly. “There are firs growing on the mainland.”
“So, not because we’ve never been able to find one,” John blinked innocently up at Evan. “We don’t have to put it in the gate room.”
“Too right we’re not putting it in the gate room, it’s a safety hazard for a start!”
“I just thought it was a nice idea.”
Evan slipped his hand underneath John’s neck and used it to pull his head up enough to kiss him. “It was a brilliant idea. But not everyone on this expedition needs or wants a tree and it’s going to be me they complain to, because they aren’t going to tell Woolsey.”
John licked his lips. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s not too big, we could take a vote on where to put it or something.”
“I’ve put it in our office,” Evan replied with a smile. “And there’s a present under it with your name on it.”
“Is that safe?”
“It’s only one of your presents,” Evan grinned, catching John in another kiss.
For occasions that required presents, there were three courses of action in Atlantis. Either you made it yourself, you traded for it, or you got it shipped from Earth. Luckily, Evan had a talent, if not often the time to indulge it. His team had managed a good few years together without casualty, and they were close. You couldn’t do what they did and not be. He’d traded for a glass worker to create three thick paperweights, and Evan had etched the Earth and Atlantis gate origin symbols in a style that wouldn’t upset the higher-ups on them. He’d had to wrap Parrish’s ahead of time, as he (like McKay and Keller, who were visiting the Millers) was going back to Earth to visit family. This was his and John’s first Christmas together, officially – as officially as an illegal affair can get, of course.
Under the new tree in their shared office was a wrapped canvas.
After Carson had died, Evan had buried with him the landscape of Atlantis he’d completed that day, and until October hadn’t been compelled to paint another. But John had no photographs or drawings or paintings of Atlantis, and it was more a home to him than anything before. It seemed only right that the next landscape he composed of Atlantis would be for the city’s primary protector.
After an evening jaunt to the mainland, Evan had the jumper hover for just long enough to get some good shots on his camera to work from. The result was a piece Evan had poured his heart and soul into, and while he knew it would adorn the walls of John’s quarters, it was possibly the most proud Evan had been of anything. The artist and lover in him knew that when he unwrapped the canvas, John would love it, the soldier in him knew it would be inconsequential should anyone know of it, and all of Evan would give him every atom of Atlantis alone if he could.
In the meantime, Evan let John unwrap him.
Author:
blueskypenguinFandom: SGA
Pairing: Lorne/Sheppard
Rating: G
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Yeah, so not mine. Not the characters, settings, hell, even the painting skills.
Christmas on Atlantis (once the dates were settled of course) was always a rather haphazard affair. For a start, you couldn’t really call it ‘Christmas’. Oh, they all accepted that Christmas was a generally secular occasion, and life at the SGC could erode anyone’s belief in gods, but if any preference was shown to one religion or group, all hell broke loose.
Of course, then they complained that they weren’t represented enough. Evan had found that there was no pleasing some people.
Minor holidays weren’t a problem and each religion and nationality saw to themselves, but the major ones.... oh, boy. After four years, Evan was getting used to it and he’d perfected his system for this holiday: the Atlantean Winter Festival. The Athosians and various minor allies provided all the traditional winter foods, from American and English to Polish and Indian, that the supplies run could not provide. Any decoration was at the crewmember’s discretion, and safety regulations and the threat of invasion at various turns usually kept it to a minimum.
Then, John brought a Christmas tree through the gate.
“Do you have any idea of the headache you caused me?” Evan asked John later, on the couch in Evan’s quarters.
John rolled his eyes from where his head rested in Evan’s lap, “Woolsey thought it was great! Who doesn’t want a Christmas tree?”
“Why do you think we’ve never had one before?”
“Because...” John knew there was a right answer to this... “We’ve never been able to find one?”
Evan sighed and tugged at John’s hair lightly. “There are firs growing on the mainland.”
“So, not because we’ve never been able to find one,” John blinked innocently up at Evan. “We don’t have to put it in the gate room.”
“Too right we’re not putting it in the gate room, it’s a safety hazard for a start!”
“I just thought it was a nice idea.”
Evan slipped his hand underneath John’s neck and used it to pull his head up enough to kiss him. “It was a brilliant idea. But not everyone on this expedition needs or wants a tree and it’s going to be me they complain to, because they aren’t going to tell Woolsey.”
John licked his lips. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s not too big, we could take a vote on where to put it or something.”
“I’ve put it in our office,” Evan replied with a smile. “And there’s a present under it with your name on it.”
“Is that safe?”
“It’s only one of your presents,” Evan grinned, catching John in another kiss.
For occasions that required presents, there were three courses of action in Atlantis. Either you made it yourself, you traded for it, or you got it shipped from Earth. Luckily, Evan had a talent, if not often the time to indulge it. His team had managed a good few years together without casualty, and they were close. You couldn’t do what they did and not be. He’d traded for a glass worker to create three thick paperweights, and Evan had etched the Earth and Atlantis gate origin symbols in a style that wouldn’t upset the higher-ups on them. He’d had to wrap Parrish’s ahead of time, as he (like McKay and Keller, who were visiting the Millers) was going back to Earth to visit family. This was his and John’s first Christmas together, officially – as officially as an illegal affair can get, of course.
Under the new tree in their shared office was a wrapped canvas.
After Carson had died, Evan had buried with him the landscape of Atlantis he’d completed that day, and until October hadn’t been compelled to paint another. But John had no photographs or drawings or paintings of Atlantis, and it was more a home to him than anything before. It seemed only right that the next landscape he composed of Atlantis would be for the city’s primary protector.
After an evening jaunt to the mainland, Evan had the jumper hover for just long enough to get some good shots on his camera to work from. The result was a piece Evan had poured his heart and soul into, and while he knew it would adorn the walls of John’s quarters, it was possibly the most proud Evan had been of anything. The artist and lover in him knew that when he unwrapped the canvas, John would love it, the soldier in him knew it would be inconsequential should anyone know of it, and all of Evan would give him every atom of Atlantis alone if he could.
In the meantime, Evan let John unwrap him.
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