blue flamingos

Promotion Day

Fandom: Stargate Atlantis/Stargate SG1

Category/Rated: Slash, PG

Year/Length: 2008/ ~990 words

Pairing: Lorne/Mitchell, Cadman

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

Author's Notes: my prompt: forgetfulness, sunshine, apples and hiccups, red high heels, rain

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

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"Okay, stop." Laura grabs Evan's arm, pulling him to a halt in the middle of the sidewalk. She rests her left foot on the wall and fiddles with her shoe, managing to make it look graceful despite the slit in her dress falling open as she does it. "Next time, we're getting a cab."

"You said you didn't mind walking," Evan points out, leaning against the wall next to her, so that any passersby (not that there are many at this time of night) won't be tempted to check out her bare leg.

"That was before I realized that I'm wearing instruments of pure torture, rather than shoes," Laura says, glaring at him.

Evan shrugs back innocently. "You chose them."

"Actually, I let Katie talk me into them a year and a half ago and never wore them," Laura corrects. "Do I seem like the kind of person who needs red, strappy, high heeled sandles?"

Since this is the first time Evan's ever seen her in anything but jeans or her uniform, either SGC, or, less frequently, police bomb disposal squad, he has to concede the point.

"Days like this, I really wish it was normal to wear a police dress uniform to smart functions," she adds, finally putting her foot down again. "At least you get to wear normal shoes."

And a dress uniform that feels like it's choking him, but Evan's still grateful to Laura for flying across the country to come to his promotion ceremony, so it's maybe not politic to point that out. "I can get us a cab back to the hotel if you like," he offers.

"High heels will not defeat me," Laura declares and hooks her hand back through his arm, turning them both in the direction of their hotel. "You know," she says, "you were a lot happier about this yesterday."

"Yeah."

"So?" Laura prompts. She tilts her head to look at him. "It's either because you're worried they're going to yank you off Atlantis, which is stupid, or you're upset because you're here with me."

"I'm not worried about being reassigned," Evan says, which is obviously the wrong thing to say. In ten years of knowing Laura, he's never learned.

"I'm hurt," she says, giving him a wide-eyed look that doesn't fool him for a second. "I get all dressed up in evil shoes, I fly across the country next to a kid who hiccups the whole way, and you're wishing I wasn't here."

Evan groans, even knowing he's being wound up. "I'm not wishing you weren't here."

Laura squeezes his arm and gives him a sympathetic smile. "He's flying in tomorrow," she says quietly. Evan nods and doesn't say, since she already knows, that it's not the same, that this is important and he wanted Cam here for it.

Laura gives him a minute, then says, "Plus, you know, I bet he wouldn't have worn high heels," which may be exactly what he needs to hear.

They're within two blocks of their hotel when the wind abruptly picks up, making Laura shiver through her shawl. "Here," Evan says, starting to unfasten his jacket, but he's only on the second button when the rain starts, drenching them immediately. Laura squeaks in shock, and they both break into a run, not that it will do them any good, the rain thundering down.

"Hold on," Laura gasps. She bends down for a moment, then straightens and pitches her shoes down a nearby alley. "Much better," she says, grinning, shoving her hair back from her face, and they jog the rest of the way to the hotel, bursting through the door in a soggy, laughing heap, to the surprise of the concierge, who jumps back to avoid them.

Laura's hair is loose, falling over her face, her shawl gone the way of her shoes and her dress sticking to her in ways that aren't appropriate in public. Evan's feet are squelching in his shoes and his uniform is drenched and splattered with mud. It's the most relaxed he's felt all evening.

"You know," Laura says speculatively. "Maybe I don't miss Pegasus all that much after all."

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At least we didn't make you run around in the rain while wearing high heels," Evan points out, getting a nod and a grin in return.

"So," says a voice behind him, "is this a private wet formalwear contest, or can anyone join in?"

Laura's grin widens in delight, and Evan can feel himself grinning just as much, because he'd know that voice anywhere. "Thought you were stuck at the SGC for another day," he says, turning round.

Cam's obviously just got in – he's still carrying a duffel bag and wearing jeans and a worn looking shirt – but he's managed to avoid the rain, which Evan thinks is a shame. He shrugs. "Landry decided he didn't need me after all. Caught a last minute flight. Was just going to come find you guys, but clearly I don't need to bother." He reaches out, pulls Evan into a rough hug, which is as much as they can get away with in the entrance to a Washington hotel (the curse of being one of the first post-declassification promotions), when Evan's in his uniform, and Evan makes sure to get Cam as damp as possible from the contact. "Sorry I missed the ceremony," Cam mutters.

Evan shrugs. "Better late than never," he says; it's easy to be magnanimous now that Cam's here. "Besides," he adds, just to make Laura laugh, "You'd never have been able to pull off the shoes."

Next: Say Goodnight


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