#lamberts

-

“I brought you food.” One of the village women smiles at him shyly as she hands over some kind of bread and fruit. “Should I bring more for you to give to your chap’tah as well?”

“Thank you.” John waves her off. “But don’t worry about McKay. I’m sure he’ll track down the food himself soon enough.”

The woman draws back in horror. “You do not feed him?”

“What? No?” John boggles. “I mean. He’s allowed to eat. Does so a whole lot, actually. But I don’t typically oversee that personally.”

“In our culture, we honor our chap’tahs by providing them with food. Is it not so where you are from?”

“It’s not.” John thinks about the last time the Daedalus came by to restock Atlantis and the frankly incredible volume of snacks that were distributed among the scientists. “Not officially, anyway.”

“Perhaps you should try it.”

He thinks about the way Rodney’s face lights up when he brings donuts to the lab. “Perhaps I should.”

-

“We have prepared a hut for you and your chap’tah.”

“Great.” John isn’t crazy about staying the night here, but the gate is a long hike away and they clearly aren’t in any immediate danger.

The villager, a young man with broad shoulders, leads him to a hut on the edge of the central meeting place. “We hope you will be comfortable.”

John sticks his head inside. It is exceedingly small, barely enough space for one person. It was going to be cramped as hell with both him and Rodney in there.

But they are guests, and he doesn’t want to be rude. “Lovely. Thank you.”

The young man gives him a knowing wink. “We know that a man likes to keep his chap’tah close.”

And that was… weird. But okay, having a scientist close at hand was pretty useful.

-

Rodney storms up to him and John laughs so hard he nearly chokes. He’s wearing some kind of elaborately tied white tunic and has flowers woven into his hair. His face has turned a furious puce color and he is fuming.

“Fun day?” John asks when he’s regained enough breath to speak.

“They insisted on dressing me like this and it’s all your fault.” He waves a finger in John’s face.

“How’s that?”

“They said I had to be presented handsomely. As if my usual attire is anything but! And the more I argued, the more they insisted I had to because of you. ‘When one is chap’tah, one must be at one’s most agreeable.’” Rodney does a mean impression of one of the village elders. “What the hell did you tell them?”

“Honestly, nothing! Just that you were my team scientist. Maybe they really love celebrating science here?”

“Oh, right, because this is a bastion of forward-looking experimental thinking!” Rodney gestures wildly around the village. “I feel so celebrated.”

John suppresses a smile. “I think you look very nice. White suits you.”

He keeps a straight face for all of two seconds before Rodney tries to throttle him.

-

That night, there’s a celebration in honor of their new trade alliance. The villagers build an enormous bonfire and smoke meats and vegetables over it like the galaxy’s biggest barbecue. After the food, they hand around gourds full of sweet mead which leaves sugar on John’s lips and tingling in his throat. And then the dancing begins.

Dancing has a long tradition in this culture, he learns: dances in the hope of a good harvest, dances to give thanks, dances to celebrate births and to commemorate deaths. Every family seems to own a drum or pipe of some kind, and they bring them out to play relentless, rhythmic music to which they twirl around the fire.

The mead must have been stronger than he thought, because when one of the villagers invites him to dance he takes her up on the offer, letting her show him the steps. He catches sight of Rodney watching him from the other side of the fire with a frown, and he’s compelled to pull him to his feet and to wipe that frown away.

Neither of them have the elegance and agility of the others, but that doesn’t seem to matter. John does his best to show him the footwork, but they mostly end up bumping into each other and laughing. At one point they collide so hard that Rodney nearly goes sprawling, and John catches him around the waist to hold him upright.

The firelight paints them both in hues of orange, and a red flush is spreading across the tops of his cheeks, the way it always does after more than one drink. John longs to trace it with his fingertips.

If I kissed him now, he catches himself thinking, he'd taste of honey and wood smoke.

They make it until dawn before staggering back to their hut. The villagers are still dancing, and they fall asleep to the sound of drumming.

-

John wakes up far too hot, with something fluffy tickling his nose and something soft and appealing pressed up against him.

He blinks, stretches, and realizes the tickling thing is Rodney's hair, which his face is buried in, and the heavy weight is Rodney's ass, which he's grinding up against.

Erm.

“Jesus, Sheppard, you could at least buy me dinner first.”

John stills, embarrassed. Though Rodney sounds bleary but not exactly adverse to the idea.

Interesting.

"How about once we get back?"

"Huh?" Rodney is not at his sharpest first thing in the morning.

"Dinner. You. Me. Atlantis."

"Oh." Rodney snuggles back into him. "Yeah, alright."

Nice. "Okay. Good "

There's a quiet moment, and John enjoys the warmth of his arms around Rodney.

Rodney never could appreciate quiet though. "Why did you stop?" He sounds almost petulant. It's kind of cute. "With the -" he gestures vaguely, "- you know."

"Technically I didn't buy you dinner yet."

"Ehh, I'm pretty easy. I'll put out for a potential dinner."

Really nice.

He smiles into Rodney's hair. "If you insist."

-

It’s several hours later that Teyla arrives. John is sat on a muddy bank playing a game involving balancing piles of sticks with some of the local kids, and Rodney has been hustled off to have more flowers braided into his hair. When the village women tugged him out of the hut, giggling and waving flowers, he’d thrown his hands up and barely even complained, so he must be in a truly good mood.

“John,” Teyla gives him a polite nod as she approaches, flanked by two of the villagers. “Caton and Sar’ai tell me that negotiations went well.”

He stretches lazily. “They did. I think we can get enough food to keep Atlantis stocked for several months.”

“Good. Well done.” She comes and sits by him on the bank. “They also told me that you were here with your husband.”

He blinks at her.

She’s hiding a smile. “Is there something you would like to tell me?”

“Erm.” John thinks back over the last day. The chap’tah. The food. The flowers. The shared hut.

Ahh.

“There seems to have been a misunderstanding about me and McKay. Though, on reflection, I can perhaps see how they might have got the wrong impression.”

Teyla nods sagely. “It would be best if you, how shall we say, play along for the rest of the visit? No need to risk a diplomatic incident.”

Very well. If he must, he must.

When Rodney comes back, this time dressed in a fetching blue sheet with violet flowers tucked behind his ears, John pulls him close and kisses him. Rodney makes a happy humming noise and none of the villagers seem perturbed, so he’s going to count that as a win.

As they collect their gear and begin the walk back to the gate, John takes Rodney’s hand in his own.

Teyla inclines her head knowingly. “I am glad your mission was successful,” she says.