blue flamingos

First Kiss: John/Evan

Fandom: Stargate Atlantis

Category/Rated: Slash, PG

Year/Length: 2009/ ~630 words

Pairing: John/Evan

Disclaimer: No, I don't own them, for which I should think they're profoundly grateful.

Prompt: John/Evan, first kiss; Still Running universe

Author's Notes: Give me any two characters I write and I'll tell you about their first kiss

Feedback: Yes please. Even if it's bad. Especially if it's bad.


They end up on a planet that makes John think of Sateda, or how Sateda must have been before the Wraith came. They're probably safer with hundreds of people milling around, making it easy for the two of them to slip along the edges of the crowd. They haven't got anything to pay for a room with, and even if they had, it wouldn't be safe, but this city's like every city everywhere, plenty of abandoned buildings.

They worm their way through a factory of disused, broken machines until they hit the office. No bed, the desk in pieces, but it's hidden and dark, and they'll hear anyone coming.

Lorne hisses as he sits down, left arm held close, dragging John out of his thoughts.

"Let me see," he says, crouching next to Lorne. They've been on the run for two days, as near as John can tell with the gate-lag, slipping through the gate from the middle of the day to the middle of the night and back, plus however long they were being held before that. They're both of them in serious need of a shower and a shave, though their clothes aren't too bad, stolen on the third – fourth? – planet where their uniforms stood out too much.

"It's fine," Lorne says, clearly lying. "Just a scrape."

John's not going to go over, again, the difference between a bullet wound and a scrape, because they both know Lorne's is a lot closer to the former than the latter. Unfortunately, they also know that there's nothing either of them can do about it, without even a basic first aid kit between them.

He rolls Lorne's sleeve up anyway. "Maybe we can try to get back to the gate tomorrow," he says. "I didn't see any sign of them earlier."

"Me either," Lorne says. "Unless they're waiting by the gate. Probably hoping we'll think they've gone and lead them back to Atlantis."

"More fool them," John says. It's true though. If their captors – pursuers, now – are at the gate, which they probably are, they'll be as trapped here as they were when they were locked up. More, since at least Atlantis knew where to look for them when they were locked up. They've been through so many gates, even John's lost track, and Rodney's good, but he's not a miracle worker, whatever he says.

He looks up, sees the same knowledge reflected on Lorne's face. At least it's Lorne, he thinks. Outside of his team, there's no-one he'd rather be running for his life with.

"Maybe we can get a weapon," he says, looking down again. The bandage is clean, or as clean as it can be under the circumstances, the knot holding so John has to tug a little to get it loose. He thinks that's what makes Lorne hiss, but when he looks up to apologize, Lorne's biting his lip, eyes closed, and it's not pain on his face.


He touches Lorne's cheek gently. Lorne sucks in a sharp breath and says, "Please don't, sir." John would believe it, except that Lorne's leaning in to the touch.

"Evan," John says quietly.

Lorne makes a pained sound, one hand closing around John's wrist. John thinks he's going to be pushed away. Instead, Lorne pulls him closer, close enough to kiss, raspy with stubble, all awkward angles and not at all how John would have chosen to do this, if he could ever had chosen to kiss his XO.

"We'll try the gate again tomorrow," he says quietly when they break apart.

Lorne just kisses him again, doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to, not when John can taste what he's not saying as they kiss in an abandoned office, one ear on the door.

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