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alfirin_kirinki
Beta:shiny_starlight
Pairing: Stackhouse/Markham
Rating: about a PG-13, but with a few four-letter words.
Notes: A while ago, I toldiocane I was writing a consequences fic from Thirty-Eight Minutes. This fic is not it – but it does follow a fairly similar premise. The other fic, Twist will probably turn up sooner or later. For the time being, this is part one of a fic that should have been a oneshot... and was then a two-parter... and somehow, seems to have decided it's a short chaptered. Sorry.
Part one can be found here.
(Let's pretend we don't know The Brotherhood happens, eh?)
Night Lights (2/?)
And I'll be two steps on the water...
Prompt: Water.
Getting up the next morning was awkward to say the least. Adam untangled his arms and tried to remove himself without waking Markham; it didn't work. The other marine sat up and looked around the room, absently rubbing at his stomach.
"Where's my shirt?" he asked.
"You said something about being hot a few hours ago... took it off..."
"I did?"
"Hey – I told you not to."
"Sorry..."
"Damn right."
"I'm... not gay or anything..." he mumbled stupidly; he'd later assure himself he was still half asleep.
"You're not?" Stack replied, with mock-horror, "Man! My heart's broken... I'm just gonna go drown myself in the shower... Homo."
---
Markham lay back where he was for a few moments after Adam headed to the bathroom, gazing at the ceiling and trying to decide why he wasn't that bothered that he'd managed to strip in the night while in bed with his team leader.
Even more curiously, he was more worried that it didn't seem to bother Stackhouse much at all. Being treated like a minor inconvenience when he woke up in bed with someone was something of a new experience.
He sat up abruptly and reached over to pick up the nearest t-shirt from the floor. He gave it a sniff – it wasn't his; it smelled like Stackhouse – but he shrugged and pulled it on anyway.
---
Adam walked out of the bathroom and started to address Markham before stopping in his tracks and abruptly turning in a half-pirouette to where Jamie was now laying – on Adam's own bed.
He raised a single, unamused eyebrow; "You're on my bed. Why are you on my bed? That's your bed – " he pointed significantly at Markham's bunk, "- and that is my shirt. Why in fuck are you wearing my shirt, man? You look like you're trying to bust out Hulk-style or something..."
Markham looked back at him with a placid and oddly content smile and said simply, "Wanna."
"I 'wanna' get my room back and sleep in my own bed, but I guess I'll just have to keep 'wanning'. Shift."
"I think we should do something," Markham announced, as if he hadn't heard him.
"What? You wanna dress up and role play...? Because last time I did that I was eight and it was Batman."
---
Jamie rolled his eyes and grinned at Adam's impatience.
"I think we need to get out more," he said, "we never do anything any more..."
Stackhouse groaned. "Now you're talking like we're married! For Christ's sake – you've got to stop doing that... The talking thing is never gonna end if you keep talking like that. We're not 'sleeping together', we don't 'live together' and 'we' do not 'need to get out more'."
"Except for that whole sleeping together, living together and needing to get out more thing, yeah."
---
It was a small start, but standing out on the West Pier hurling a football at each other (not necessarily with any intention of allowing the other to catch it) was the first time they'd really been outside since 'it' happened. It made a change from avoiding the world in their little cocoon of 'He's not my boyfriend!' – instead, they were avoiding the world on a little-used section of the city, surrounded by the lapping sea.
Baby steps...
Adam carefully aimed the ball at Markham's head as he bent over to scratch his ankle, and chuckled delightedly when he looked up just in time for it to collide with his forehead – knocking him flat on his ass. Adam laughed so hard he had to sit down, clutching his ribs. Markham called him a dick and lobbed it back, hitting his shoulder and ricocheting it cleanly into the dark waters surrounding them.
---
"Oops."
"Oops? That's my fucking ball, you asshole!" Stackhouse complained, scowling at him in annoyance.
Jamie sighed and pulled his sneakers off; "Whatever." He peeled off the t-shirt which also happened to be Stackhouse's, and tossed it at him. "Hold that while I go get it."
"You're going to go in there?"
"Well, unless the gene can levitate it back to me, I guess I gotta." He put his fingers to his temples and scrunched his eyes shut, pretending to concentrate. "Nope. Looks like I need to take a swim."
He handed Stack his sunglasses and took an ungainly belly-flop into the water.
---
There was, of course, a certain irony in being a marine who hated deep water, but Adam didn't care. He stood on the edge of the pier, twisting the t-shirt in his hands, and watching as Markham swam out to where the ball was drifting idly away.
He wondered, for a moment, what alien sharks looked like – and then hurriedly tried to put it out of his mind. It might not be him physically in the water, but some of his particles were; drifting further and further away.
"What's the water like?" he called, trying to sound casual.
"Wet."
"That's real funny, smartass."
Markham swam out the last few feet to where the ball was bobbing contentedly, and turned back, grinning. "It's warm. Like someone peed in a pool."
"Oh, that's disgusting! Get back here..."
"Come in and get it!"
"No."
"Pussy."
"Shut up and bring the fucking ball back, okay? Christ knows what could be in that water!"
---
Jamie didn't think for a minute as he adopted a panicked expression, splashed around a little, and ducked under the water.
---
"Markham! That is not funny!"
Adam watched as the bubbles on the water settled and disappeared.
"...Markham!"
He almost didn't notice the fact he was shaking, until the expanse of water before him rippled and appeared to explode in a gush of white spray and pink skin, and Markham was suddenly laughing and gasping for air – neither drowning nor apparently chewed on by alien sea beasts.
---
Jamie swam back to the pier at a leisurely pace, stopping a few feet from the edge to toss the ball back. He tilted his head, looking up at Stack, still standing on the edge and gazing out at the water from behind Jamie's own shades.
"Scare ya?"
"Scared me? Fucking scared me? If you get eaten - !" Stackhouse threw down the knotted t-shirt in annoyance and grimaced at the thought. "Son of a bitch..."
"Ah – you were so scared," Markham grinned gleefully. "Y'coming in?"
"Hell no!"
"You look like the guy from CSI: Miami, standing up there, like that..."
"At least I don't look like the Little Mermaid!"
Jamie grinned and swiped his arm through the water, soaking him. "The Little Mermaid was hot, at least."
Stackhouse gazed down at his newly see-through pale-grey t-shirt and glowered. "You are so sleeping on your own tonight."
---
Laying down on the edge, reaching for Markham's hands to help pull him out of the water, Adam looked at the dark, wet hair – now plastered to the other man's forehead - and the still-dripping rivulets of water down the side of his face and from the tips of his eyelashes, and almost dropped him.
As soon as he was able to hold on to the upper ledge, Adam let him go and knelt back.
"Sure are pissy today," Markham told him, picking up the t-shirt he had been wearing and shaking his head to get the excess water off. "Did I really scare you so bad, back there?"
Adam glared and tugged his sopping shirt away from his stomach uncomfortably. "You went out too far."
"Well, it isn't any deeper thirty feet away than three feet..."
"That's not the point!"
Markham sat and rubbed at a dark purpling mark under the frayed edge of his shorts; cut down from an old, pre-marpat set, and frowned; "You're still mad about the thing from this morning, aren't you?"
"No!" Adam replied quickly.
"Well, y'know..." he began, shrugging and offering him the scrunched up t-shirt, "We could just push the bunks closer together... If it bothers you, I mean."
Awkwardly, Adam shrugged back at him. "It's not... Look, I don't care."
"Huh. Well. Seems kinda a lot of effort if you don't care. And I don't care..."
"And it might not work anyway," he pointed out helpfully.
Markham almost seemed to smile a little. "Nope."
"No."
"Right. Well, I guess that's figured, then. You wanna get brunch?"
---
The puzzled expression on Sheppard's face as he wandered into the mess hall, eyes fixed on the long trail of drips coursing through the hall, up the steps, past the serving area and finally across to their table, almost made Jamie laugh out loud – especially when he reached them and seemed to double-take in surprise.
"Markham. You're looking kinda... damp."
"He is damp, sir. In fact, I'd go so far as to say he's completely wet," Stack informed him sagely. Jamie kicked him, still barefoot, beneath the table.
Sheppard pulled the familiar expression that appeared to mean, "You're weirding me out and I don't know what to do about it..."
"I've been in the water, sir. Stack almost lost a ball..."
"It was a minor incident, sir."
"Well, I'll take our word for it..."
Jamie tried not to laugh. "Thank you, sir."
"So, are you guys bored, hanging around here all the time?"
"Um..."
"See, 'cause some of the science guys want to take a hike out to one of those piles of rock with zig-zags all over, and they could do with a few guys not afraid of breaking their little computer pad-things. You wanna go?"
"Well, sure, sir – "
"Wait," Stackhouse cut in, giving him a warning look over his orange juice, "I think Doc Beckett wanted us to stay out of trouble, sir."
Sheppard grinned and spread his palms, "It's pack-horse mission. Been there before – you'll be fine! Between you and me: the Doc worries too much."
---
It was some time after they'd landed and separated into two small groups that Adam began to feel strange. He'd been keeping in radio contact with Markham purely for something to do (and because it was slightly reassuring to know that the land beasts hadn't made up for the sea beasts' failings), but the world had begun to tip and tilt ominously. It wasn't that he was hungry, because they'd only eaten a couple of hours before, it was more like... more like...
The last thing he thought as the world keeled over and went black, was that 'famous last words' had always seemed to be a strong point of Sheppard's.
alfirin_kirinkiBeta:
shiny_starlightPairing: Stackhouse/Markham
Rating: about a PG-13, but with a few four-letter words.
Notes: A while ago, I told
iocane I was writing a consequences fic from Thirty-Eight Minutes. This fic is not it – but it does follow a fairly similar premise. The other fic, Twist will probably turn up sooner or later. For the time being, this is part one of a fic that should have been a oneshot... and was then a two-parter... and somehow, seems to have decided it's a short chaptered. Sorry.Part one can be found here.
(Let's pretend we don't know The Brotherhood happens, eh?)
Night Lights (2/?)
And I'll be two steps on the water...
Prompt: Water.
Getting up the next morning was awkward to say the least. Adam untangled his arms and tried to remove himself without waking Markham; it didn't work. The other marine sat up and looked around the room, absently rubbing at his stomach.
"Where's my shirt?" he asked.
"You said something about being hot a few hours ago... took it off..."
"I did?"
"Hey – I told you not to."
"Sorry..."
"Damn right."
"I'm... not gay or anything..." he mumbled stupidly; he'd later assure himself he was still half asleep.
"You're not?" Stack replied, with mock-horror, "Man! My heart's broken... I'm just gonna go drown myself in the shower... Homo."
---
Markham lay back where he was for a few moments after Adam headed to the bathroom, gazing at the ceiling and trying to decide why he wasn't that bothered that he'd managed to strip in the night while in bed with his team leader.
Even more curiously, he was more worried that it didn't seem to bother Stackhouse much at all. Being treated like a minor inconvenience when he woke up in bed with someone was something of a new experience.
He sat up abruptly and reached over to pick up the nearest t-shirt from the floor. He gave it a sniff – it wasn't his; it smelled like Stackhouse – but he shrugged and pulled it on anyway.
---
Adam walked out of the bathroom and started to address Markham before stopping in his tracks and abruptly turning in a half-pirouette to where Jamie was now laying – on Adam's own bed.
He raised a single, unamused eyebrow; "You're on my bed. Why are you on my bed? That's your bed – " he pointed significantly at Markham's bunk, "- and that is my shirt. Why in fuck are you wearing my shirt, man? You look like you're trying to bust out Hulk-style or something..."
Markham looked back at him with a placid and oddly content smile and said simply, "Wanna."
"I 'wanna' get my room back and sleep in my own bed, but I guess I'll just have to keep 'wanning'. Shift."
"I think we should do something," Markham announced, as if he hadn't heard him.
"What? You wanna dress up and role play...? Because last time I did that I was eight and it was Batman."
---
Jamie rolled his eyes and grinned at Adam's impatience.
"I think we need to get out more," he said, "we never do anything any more..."
Stackhouse groaned. "Now you're talking like we're married! For Christ's sake – you've got to stop doing that... The talking thing is never gonna end if you keep talking like that. We're not 'sleeping together', we don't 'live together' and 'we' do not 'need to get out more'."
"Except for that whole sleeping together, living together and needing to get out more thing, yeah."
---
It was a small start, but standing out on the West Pier hurling a football at each other (not necessarily with any intention of allowing the other to catch it) was the first time they'd really been outside since 'it' happened. It made a change from avoiding the world in their little cocoon of 'He's not my boyfriend!' – instead, they were avoiding the world on a little-used section of the city, surrounded by the lapping sea.
Baby steps...
Adam carefully aimed the ball at Markham's head as he bent over to scratch his ankle, and chuckled delightedly when he looked up just in time for it to collide with his forehead – knocking him flat on his ass. Adam laughed so hard he had to sit down, clutching his ribs. Markham called him a dick and lobbed it back, hitting his shoulder and ricocheting it cleanly into the dark waters surrounding them.
---
"Oops."
"Oops? That's my fucking ball, you asshole!" Stackhouse complained, scowling at him in annoyance.
Jamie sighed and pulled his sneakers off; "Whatever." He peeled off the t-shirt which also happened to be Stackhouse's, and tossed it at him. "Hold that while I go get it."
"You're going to go in there?"
"Well, unless the gene can levitate it back to me, I guess I gotta." He put his fingers to his temples and scrunched his eyes shut, pretending to concentrate. "Nope. Looks like I need to take a swim."
He handed Stack his sunglasses and took an ungainly belly-flop into the water.
---
There was, of course, a certain irony in being a marine who hated deep water, but Adam didn't care. He stood on the edge of the pier, twisting the t-shirt in his hands, and watching as Markham swam out to where the ball was drifting idly away.
He wondered, for a moment, what alien sharks looked like – and then hurriedly tried to put it out of his mind. It might not be him physically in the water, but some of his particles were; drifting further and further away.
"What's the water like?" he called, trying to sound casual.
"Wet."
"That's real funny, smartass."
Markham swam out the last few feet to where the ball was bobbing contentedly, and turned back, grinning. "It's warm. Like someone peed in a pool."
"Oh, that's disgusting! Get back here..."
"Come in and get it!"
"No."
"Pussy."
"Shut up and bring the fucking ball back, okay? Christ knows what could be in that water!"
---
Jamie didn't think for a minute as he adopted a panicked expression, splashed around a little, and ducked under the water.
---
"Markham! That is not funny!"
Adam watched as the bubbles on the water settled and disappeared.
"...Markham!"
He almost didn't notice the fact he was shaking, until the expanse of water before him rippled and appeared to explode in a gush of white spray and pink skin, and Markham was suddenly laughing and gasping for air – neither drowning nor apparently chewed on by alien sea beasts.
---
Jamie swam back to the pier at a leisurely pace, stopping a few feet from the edge to toss the ball back. He tilted his head, looking up at Stack, still standing on the edge and gazing out at the water from behind Jamie's own shades.
"Scare ya?"
"Scared me? Fucking scared me? If you get eaten - !" Stackhouse threw down the knotted t-shirt in annoyance and grimaced at the thought. "Son of a bitch..."
"Ah – you were so scared," Markham grinned gleefully. "Y'coming in?"
"Hell no!"
"You look like the guy from CSI: Miami, standing up there, like that..."
"At least I don't look like the Little Mermaid!"
Jamie grinned and swiped his arm through the water, soaking him. "The Little Mermaid was hot, at least."
Stackhouse gazed down at his newly see-through pale-grey t-shirt and glowered. "You are so sleeping on your own tonight."
---
Laying down on the edge, reaching for Markham's hands to help pull him out of the water, Adam looked at the dark, wet hair – now plastered to the other man's forehead - and the still-dripping rivulets of water down the side of his face and from the tips of his eyelashes, and almost dropped him.
As soon as he was able to hold on to the upper ledge, Adam let him go and knelt back.
"Sure are pissy today," Markham told him, picking up the t-shirt he had been wearing and shaking his head to get the excess water off. "Did I really scare you so bad, back there?"
Adam glared and tugged his sopping shirt away from his stomach uncomfortably. "You went out too far."
"Well, it isn't any deeper thirty feet away than three feet..."
"That's not the point!"
Markham sat and rubbed at a dark purpling mark under the frayed edge of his shorts; cut down from an old, pre-marpat set, and frowned; "You're still mad about the thing from this morning, aren't you?"
"No!" Adam replied quickly.
"Well, y'know..." he began, shrugging and offering him the scrunched up t-shirt, "We could just push the bunks closer together... If it bothers you, I mean."
Awkwardly, Adam shrugged back at him. "It's not... Look, I don't care."
"Huh. Well. Seems kinda a lot of effort if you don't care. And I don't care..."
"And it might not work anyway," he pointed out helpfully.
Markham almost seemed to smile a little. "Nope."
"No."
"Right. Well, I guess that's figured, then. You wanna get brunch?"
---
The puzzled expression on Sheppard's face as he wandered into the mess hall, eyes fixed on the long trail of drips coursing through the hall, up the steps, past the serving area and finally across to their table, almost made Jamie laugh out loud – especially when he reached them and seemed to double-take in surprise.
"Markham. You're looking kinda... damp."
"He is damp, sir. In fact, I'd go so far as to say he's completely wet," Stack informed him sagely. Jamie kicked him, still barefoot, beneath the table.
Sheppard pulled the familiar expression that appeared to mean, "You're weirding me out and I don't know what to do about it..."
"I've been in the water, sir. Stack almost lost a ball..."
"It was a minor incident, sir."
"Well, I'll take our word for it..."
Jamie tried not to laugh. "Thank you, sir."
"So, are you guys bored, hanging around here all the time?"
"Um..."
"See, 'cause some of the science guys want to take a hike out to one of those piles of rock with zig-zags all over, and they could do with a few guys not afraid of breaking their little computer pad-things. You wanna go?"
"Well, sure, sir – "
"Wait," Stackhouse cut in, giving him a warning look over his orange juice, "I think Doc Beckett wanted us to stay out of trouble, sir."
Sheppard grinned and spread his palms, "It's pack-horse mission. Been there before – you'll be fine! Between you and me: the Doc worries too much."
---
It was some time after they'd landed and separated into two small groups that Adam began to feel strange. He'd been keeping in radio contact with Markham purely for something to do (and because it was slightly reassuring to know that the land beasts hadn't made up for the sea beasts' failings), but the world had begun to tip and tilt ominously. It wasn't that he was hungry, because they'd only eaten a couple of hours before, it was more like... more like...
The last thing he thought as the world keeled over and went black, was that 'famous last words' had always seemed to be a strong point of Sheppard's.