sga_flashfic | A Taste of Home by Smitty (Food & Architecture Challenge)

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Title: A Taste of Home
Author: Smitty
Rating: PG for kissing.
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay
Stuff: Thanks goes to

reccea for shoring me up when I was being whiny and being an awesome audience while I wrote this. I only failed at flashfic by 800-some words this time. Teamfic, set prior to "Home" in Season One. This is nothing bit a bit of fluff written in the middle of the night. Oh my God, is it THIS LATE?

A Taste of Home
by Smitty

"Well, ladies -- lady -- and gentlemen," John announced, looking over his team. "This is the last of the popcorn. Whatever we decide to watch should be something good."

"It is your treat," Teyla said. "We should watch something of your choosing."

"Aw, well, I don't want to...." John scratched the back of his neck. "Isn't everybody tired of Top Gun already?"

"I want to see the South Tower," Rodney said, garnering surprised looks from the other three. "What? There's no rule that says we have to watch one of the same six existing examples of make-believe Hollywood science in the galaxy. I've never been in the South Tower at night and I bet none of you have, either."

John raised his eyebrows and looked at Ford and Teyla. "South Tower?" he asked.

"I, too, would like to see the night sky," Teyla agreed, smiling at Rodney. The right side of his mouth turned up shyly.

"Er, is there anything to see?" Ford asked. "I mean, hey, if everyone else wants to go, I'm there. I'm just sayin'."

"Guess we won't know 'til we get there," John said, picking up both bowls of popcorn. McKay? Lead the way."

They went by transporter and climbed the last flight of stairs to the highest point in the city. The lights came on for John and then dimmed when he thought nicely at them. He set the popcorn down on the floor on the balcony and sat cross-legged behind them. Teyla and Ford sat on either side and Rodney leaned on the balcony, the light breeze ruffling the front of his hair.

"Dr. McKay was correct," Teyla said softly. "It is very pretty up here."

"It is," John agreed. "Rodney? Something on your mind?"

That earned him a withering look. "Please, Major. I know constant mental activity is something of an aberration among your kind, but scientists are never without something, as you so quaintly put it, on their minds."

John lifted his chin and frowned good-naturedly. Rodney most certainly had something on his mind. "Ok," he said mildly. "Just didn't want you to miss out on the popcorn." He took two pieces of popcorn for himself, dropping them both in his mouth and rubbing the butter and salt off his fingers with his thumb. It wasn't a particularly effective method but one thing the Pegasus Galaxy tended to lack was napkins. The kernels crunched lightly under his teeth, sweet and salty on his tongue.

"I have enjoyed the popcorn," Teyla said as Rodney came over to sit next to her. "I thank you for sharing it with us."

"Popcorn's for sharing," John said. "Movies and Ferris Wheels and football games. Things you do with your friends."

"Do all Earth foods have such connotations?" Teyla wondered. "On Athosia, we had many ceremonial foods but not all held significance."

John flipped a kernel into the air and caught it on his tongue. "Yes," he said even as Rodney said, "No, of course not."

"Oh, come on, Major," he added. "Tell me what the cultural significance of a Big Mac is."

"McKay uses the term 'food' loosely," John stage-whispered to Teyla. "Ok, so maybe not all food has significance, but a lot of it does. Fries at the beach. Pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving."

"My grandmother used to make the best peach pies," Ford volunteered. "We had this old peach tree in the back yard and she made everything out of those peaches."

"What is a peach?" Teyla asked.

"It's a fruit," John said. "Round, fuzzy. Peach-colored." He watched Teyla very carefully not roll her eyes.

"She used to make gingerbread at Christmas," Ford added. "Homemade gingerbread men, and gingerbread house, and eggnog to wash it down."

"Poutine," Rodney said, somewhat wistfully. "It's been years since I've had really good poutine."

"Gingerbread?" Teyla ventured. "And poutine?"

"Gingerbread's great," Ford told her. "It's like a spicy cookie and you decorate it with icing and raisins and chocolate chips for eyes."

"Ah, it is a sweet." Teyla looked pleased with herself and proud of Ford for conveying knowledge in a coherent manner.

"And poutine is about the most disgusting thing you can imagine," John said, just to make Rodney scowl. "You remember the fries we had in the mess the other day?" When Teyla nodded, he continued. "Well, imagine those, only not orange and kind of greasy, and then they cover them with cheese and gravy."

"They're no worse than your beloved shit-on-a-shingle," Rodney returned.

"Hey," John warned. "If there's one thing that tastes the same in every galaxy, it's a good plate of SOS." He watched Rodney take a few pieces of popcorn and eat them very slowly.

Teyla ran her tongue along her upper lip and John couldn't help but watch. He'd bet the rest of the bowl that Rodney and Ford were sneaking peeks, too.

"This popcorn," she started, and then appeared to switch tactics. "You are thinking that you may never again see Earth."

John's jaw tightened and he relaxed the muscle before anyone noticed. "Oh, we'll see it again," he said with as much nonchalance as he could muster. "Might not be until after they've outlawed poutine, now..."

The corner of Rodney's mouth twitched.

"It's not going to seem like Christmas without gingerbread," Ford said. "No matter where I was, my grandma always managed to send me some."

"I never really got the appeal of Christmas," Rodney said thoughtfully. He reached for the bowl and ate a few pieces of popcorn without looking at them.

"People give you stuff," John said. "How do you not like that?"

Ford laughed and Teyla smiled indulgently. It had taken John two hours to explain Christmas to her and the difference between Jesus and Santa Claus.

"I was never big on family holidays," Rodney said. "So much pressure. So many screaming children. So many screaming adults, actually."

"On Athosia," Teyla said, and then stopped. "I am never going home again, either," she said.

John looked at her, expecting to see sadness or regret. Instead, she was gazing at each of them in turn, head held high.

"Don't you miss it?" Ford asked. "You could probably go back after the Wraith go back to sleep."

That was some terrible reasoning, John thought, but he didn't say anything. Truth was, if Teyla and Halling and the rest of the Athosians had wanted to go back and find arable land on their planet, they would have gone months ago. The Wraith threat wasn't going to go away simply by them eating their fill and going back to sleep. The Keeper knew about Earth and John had woken them all up. If he ever wanted to see popcorn and pumpkin pie and taste one of Ford's grandma's cookies, he was going to have to do better. He was going to have to lead Atlantis against the Wraith and if worst came to worst, use his command code to help Weir destroy their beautiful city and keep Earth from becoming lunch.

"No," Teyla said. "My home is here, now, you all of you. My people are happy on the mainland. Maybe some day they will wish to return, but I will not."

"Not even for a visit?" Ford asked.

She smiled. "Maybe for a visit."

John reached into the bowl, collecting a few remaining kernels from the butter and salt that had shifted to the bottom.

His fingers were greasy and he finally just licked them clean, knowing it was his last taste of popcorn for now, and wiped his hand on the leg of his pants.

"It is late," Teyla said, standing. "I believe I will turn in for the night." She touched John very lightly on the shoulder as she turned to the door.

"Yeah, I'm gonna hit the rack, too," Ford said. "Thanks for the popcorn, Major. Doc, this was a good idea. Great view."

Rodney nodded. "Of course it is."

Ford bounded after Teyla, happy to just bask in her presence.

"Rodney," John drawled, tilting his head. "Penny for your thoughts."

"I'll have you know," Rodney said without heat, "that several of your nation's preeminent universities, not to mention international think tanks, militaries, etc, pay top dollar for my thoughts."

"All I got are pennies," John offered.

Rodney stood and leaned against the railing of the balcony, then turned around. "What if we never get back?" he asked. "Are we going to be happy, stuck here forever? Are we going to get homesick? I mean, more than we are now, thanks for the sleigh ride through Nostalgia Land. That was brilliant. Is it going to get worse? Or will we start to forget and think those weird orange fries and the not-really-SOS is normal?"

"You love the orange fries," John reminded him. "And I saw you take down a whole plate of SOS last week. Not to mention that you like MREs and Power Bars, and we still have plenty of those in stock."

"I know," Rodney said. "And Atlantis is a place of unparalled opportunity. My first Nobel prize will very likely result from the ZPM derived equations I've been working on. Even if offered the opportunity to leave, I don't think I'd choose to take it. It's not like there's all that much waiting for me on Earth. My cat, of course, misses me terribly I'm sure. And Colonel Samantha Carter is undoubtedly frantic for news of my well-being -- "

John rolled his eyes. Rodney didn't notice.

"But it would be nice," he said finally, "if we could visit."

"Rodney." John had nothing, just the name, but he stood and walked over to Rodney, settling his hands on the railing on either side of the other man's body. "I'm out of popcorn," he said finally. "But if you ever need a taste of home -- "

Rodney kissed him, hard and a little bit desperate. John brought his hands up to Rodney's face, sliding fingers into Rodney's hair and tracing Rodney's cheekbones with his thumb.

Rodney tasted like popcorn, sweet and salty, his lips soft with the butter. He also tasted like coffee, but John figured that was probably pretty standard by now.

Rodney started a little and John eased up, letting Rodney draw back. "I, um -- " Rodney ducked his head, completely unable to disguise his beaming grin. "I needed that."

"Yeah," John said, wrapping one hand around the back of Rodney's neck and resting his forehead on Rodney's. "So did I."

"I uh -- I don't suppose you need another one?" Rodney asked, casting his eyes up hopefully. It looked utterly silly with his face to close, and John had to smile.

"I might need more than one," he admitted.

"I can deal with that," Rodney told him. "Also, I have a box of Girl Scout cookies in my room. If you don't tell anyone, I'll let you have a Thin Mint."

John straightened up so fast, he nearly knocked his head on Rodney's. From Rodney, that was practically a diamond ring. "Gee, Rodney," he said, a smile twisting his mouth. "This is all going so fast." He kissed Rodney again, long and sweet, before tugging on his shirt. "C'mon," he said, the words familiar in his mouth. "Let's go home."

Current Mood: chipper
Current Music: "Comedown" -- Bush

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casspeach.livejournal.com

This is lovely, so poignant and nostalgic and hopeful. Love the ending line, and Ford, who wants to know if there's anything cool to see at the South Tower but is going anyway cos everyone else is, but especially Rodney.

This fic made me miss the underlying 'they can never go home' feel of the first series (and want some popcorn, because my stomach is so suggestible) and perfectly captured its mood.

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