Empress Ena (severusslave) wrote,
Empress Ena

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FIC: "Time to Start the Day", PG13, Ford/Sheppard, SGA Rareathon

Title: Time to Start the Day
Author: severusslave
Rating: PG13
Pairing: Ford/Sheppard
Words: ~1500
Summary: In which it is early morning and our protagonist wakes up, is lazy, cuddles up to his lover...
Spoilers: Season Two
Beta: Many thanks to spike21!
Rareathon assignment: cherryice who requested Ford. Ford gen, Ford het, or Ford slash. I'd prefer something with at least a hopeful ending - S1 or pre-series would work, but I would absolutely adore Ford integrating back into Atlantis, or an AU where the enzyme never happened. I'd also prefer something without graphic sex, if that's all right.
Notes: That's very all right. This assignment was a challenge for me because Aiden Ford had been my wtf-character. The one character I could not relate to and thus could not develope any interest for. This story changed that.

He woke up. In over two decades of life he had learned that the precious seconds of thoughtless void directly after waking up were the best time of the day to come. Then thoughts entered the mind and demanded their rightful place. Mhmm. In an instant a handful of information came forth and Aiden remembered that he did not have to get up till it was 0630 hours, that there would be omelets in the mess hall today because it was a tuesday, that he was supposed to present a detailed file on his crew's new working schedule to Dr. Weir at 1300 hours, that he had this afternoon off but had to go to the doc for some more of that numbing ointment, that he probably would spend the afternoon sparring with Dex and that, thank God, hmm, it wasn't 0630 hours yet. He curled his toes, flexed his shoulder blades and ran his tongue over his teeth trying to ignore the less then pleasant taste and texture.

He adored the twilight. This lazy state of being, lying on a bed cuddled up under a thick plumeau and to the man next to him.The air in the room was crisp and the tip of his nose was uncomfortably cold, so he switched between burrowing it into the pillow and gasping slightly for a deep breath of fresh, cold air.

He adored the twilight. Hmm. The way thoughts jumbled through his head, each no more important then the next and how time seemed to stand still when a sudden sensation made him focus on one small area of skin. A hairy thigh rubbed against his own, tickled him, as it twitched sleepily, caught up in reaction to a dream.

He played with a hangnail. Rubbed his index finger against the side of his thumb, picked at the small patch of skin, was fascinated with the small sparks of pain. He was fascinated with his inability to stop picking at it. Ouchie. Ouchie, ouchie. Mhmm.

He scratched his stomach (that spot directly above his navel) with one hand as he wormed his other hand out of from under the duvet to look at his thumb.

He opened his eye. The hand now in front of his face forgotten for the moment as he looked at the endearing little curl that had formed at the hairline of his bedpartner's neck. Sheppard's hair normally did anything (everything really) but curl. Except for that spot. And only after a bout of lovemaking.

He loved that curl.

Aiden began to raise his hand to mess it up and to ruffle John's hair (because it was his and only his to look at) as he caught sight of the worried skin on his thumb again and aborted the motion to hold his thumb in front of his eye to inspect it.

He had to clip the nails soon, too, he thought in passing. He licked at the dry patch of skin, rubbed the spit into it to soothe it, then rubbed his palm across his chin.

He scratched his head (his hair was more closely shorn then it ever was before) along the line where his eyepatch's string rested during the day.

It had taken him some time to get used to wearing it. To get used to needing it.

The loss of his eyesight on his left eye - that was something he had been able to deal with. The enzyme overdose he had suffered from because of the dead Wraith attached to his chest (like a blue, oversized leech) had caused his left eye's pupil to blow. Extreme light sensitiveness and a severe dryness of the eyeball had been the consequences of that. Additionally, he was blind on that eye.

He got his eyesight back (in a queer way) when he started using the wraith enzyme. It had made it all the more addicitive.

Aiden shuddered under the plumeau. He hugged both his arms closer to his chest and folded his feet into the thick, warm blanket.

Afterwards he... Afterwards the doc had told him... (pain. sick. restained. john.) Afterwards as the doc had told him that without the enzyme his eyeball had somehow just... Somehow just burst. Bled out onto the pillowcase.

So. The eyepatch.

Aiden frowned and repelled all dark thoughts and memories of that time from his head. He sighed (which changed into a long jaw-splitting yawn immediately) and pressed the side of his face against John's shoulder.

Sheppard jerked violently (oh yeah, icicle nose. sorry.), grumbled and dragged the blanket higher up his chest.

He also reached for Aiden. His left hand landed on Aiden's belly and clutched clumsily for hold. Aiden folded their fingers together as if in prayer.

He had prayed a lot those last two years.

John squeezed his hand and suddenly all Aiden could focus on was that irritating hangnail and he itched to do something about it (aargh).

He adored the twilight. Because something irrelevant is as important in the twilight as things of relevance. Things he talked about with his shrink. And with John. Only John.

He opened his eye again and took in the sight of his quarters. It wouldn't be long now till the sun would rise and bathe their city in sunlight. Minutes. About 4 of them, max.

In one corner of his quarters, next to the coloured glass-y door that led to his bathroom, there was a pile of laundry. A high pile of laundry. Aiden calculated quickly how much of that was actually his dirty laundry and how much of that was John's and then how much of his clothes had to be clean and left in his drawers. From the looks of it he'd better head to the Altantean version of a laundromat straight after breakfast.

He looked over at the desk. His slob of a lover had let his trays pile up again. He looked closer. The one on the very bottom had leftovers from last week's berry#37 pancakes on it. They were fuzzy (eurgh).

He'd make John take care of his fuzzy leftovers himself.

Aiden looked at his clock. Looked at it some more in all its red, blinking glory. Then he read the time. 06:12. The little red colon appeared and disappeared blinking cheerfully every two seconds.

John flexed his one hand that was entwined with his. Then he began to pick at Aiden's hangnail. Aiden decided that it was time to get up.

He propped himself onto his elbows and wormed his left leg over John's underneath the plumeau taking the first step of disentangling from John's grasp to get up and hop over to his bathroom and start his day with a hot, hot shower.

He was stopped.

Now resting with all his weight on John he was formally greeted with a "Mornin'." and asked a "Where do you think you're going?"

"Hey you," he greeted in response. "To the bathroom to take a leak, have a shower, shave and brush my teeth."

"Mkay. Kiss!" He planted a kiss onto John's lips and got up.

"Yeah, brush your teeth."

"Told you. It's a quarter past six, you don't have to get up until 9. Go back to sleep."

"Hn." Aiden waited for the rest.

"Wait! What-"

"It's 0615."

"Oh, good. And I have to-"

"Not for another three hours. 0900."

"Oh, okay. ...G'night. Love you."

Aiden shook his head fondly and went to wash up. He whistled some tune under his breath while he showered and thought about where he had snapped that one up. (Was it one of Gran's gospels?) It seemed more recent though. He ought to ask Teyla about it. Ha! No. It was the tune of the lullaby that she'd sung for Jinto's baby girl.

Aiden smiled while he smeared toothpaste onto his toothbrush and sung (sang) the pieces of the lullaby's lyrics that came to him while brushing his teeth. It sounded dreadful.

He grinned at his reflection in the mirror. Pink toothpaste foam on a widely smiling mouth underneath two so very different halves of a face. Back when he'd been dragged back to Atlantis he had hated his disfigured, blind side. Was disgusted by it.

Then John, the lover he had thought lost forever to him, the man who had searched the galaxy for him, had said that actually he liked that new eyebrow better then the old one. Made him look rather rakish. Together with the black suede eyepatch.

Told him that he'd always wanted to marry a pirate and that he had been mocked for it as a child. Then he'd kissed him.

Aiden spat into the sink.

Time to start the day.
Tags: fic, sga

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