blue flamingos

End Of December: John/Ronon

Fandom: Stargate:Atlantis

Category/Rated: Slash/PG

Year/Length: 2011/667 words

Pairing: John/Ronon

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

Author's Notes: For spillingvelvet, who wanted Ronon decorating a christmas tree in John's quarters with Torren

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

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John got used, back before they brought Atlantis to Earth and took it back with three times as many troops and so many new scientists he still hasn't learned their names after nearly a year, to sleeping on a narrow cot in a small room. When he got back to Atlantis after two weeks of leave with Ronon and Teyla, he found he'd been moved into a suite of rooms, almost an apartment, and since it wasn't exactly easy to conduct a relationship in a single bed, he didn't argue.

None of which explained why he woke up one morning and could hear voices somewhere in his apartment.

Years of experience of waking up in strange places that turned out to be Wraith cells had apparently conditioned him to lie still and listen, which he did, face pressed into the pillow the way he'd fallen asleep. He recognised Ronon's voice first, low and rumbling, and that made it easier to place the voices in the sunken area between bedroom, bathroom and kitchen that he'd marked as the living room. The second voice took him a little longer – higher-pitched, rising and falling in volume, the words indistinguishable.

Torren, John guessed, looking at his alarm clock. 0530, too early for Ronon to be waking him up to run, even if he wasn't inexplicably accompanied by Torren. John was tempted, for a moment, to lie there and wait to see what they were doing in his apartment; except that Ronon had an unnatural ability to know when John was awake, which meant his punishment for not getting up would probably be terrible.

John hadn't gotten around to guessing what Torren and Ronon might be doing in his living room. That didn't make the surprise of finding out any less.

"That's a tree," he said stupidly from the doorway.

Torren, resting one hand on Ronon's knee while he used the other to hang a shining silver ball that John definitely didn't own on a low branch, said, "Duh, Uncle John. S'a Christmas tree, for Christmas."

"I see," John said, not really seeing at all. Christmas was two weeks away and okay, it was a fir tree, or at least a damn good imitation of one, but they'd never celebrated Christmas in the city, and he didn't intend to start now, in his apartment.

"It's a great tree, isn't it?" Ronon asked, prompting.

"Sure, buddy." John went a little closer. It was a nice tree, bushy but not too bushy to get decorations on, a string of silver lights already winding round it, a collection of mismatched decorations on the lowest and highest branches. It would, he admitted, look good when it was finished, if the box of decorations by Ronon's feet was anything to go by. "Did you do all this?"

Torren shook his head firmly. "These is mine branches, and those is Ronon's branches and Ronon picks me up to do the top branch because it's a star up there Uncle John, see?" Punctuated by a red felt star thrust into John's face.

"That's a great star." John looked up to Ronon, who was studiously hanging a wooden duck from a high branch, and grinning the grin that said he was going to be no help whatsoever. "Why did you decide to put a tree in my apartment?"

"It's Christmas!" Torren frowned at John. "Mama says is for people from Earth and trees and presents and a man and a chimley and chocolate for everyone, 'cept Uncle Rodney says chocolate and Mama says no and Christmas and trees."

Well, that cleared that one up. At least John knew who to get a comprehensible explanation out of later. "Can I help decorate it?"

Torren solemnly handed over a wooden rabbit, painted green. "Not the star though."

"I won't touch the star," John promised just as solemnly.

He brushed Ronon's hand as he hung the rabbit, neatly between Torren's and Ronon's sections, and Ronon glanced over. "Okay?"

"Great," John said truthfully.


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