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Title: My Daddy Didn't Have Days Like This - Part 2/5
By:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kellifer_fic
Fandom: SPN/SGA
Rating: PG (language/adult themes)
Category: Crossover
Words: 2,555
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, no money!
Spoilers: None
Notes: Thanks to my beta *superfox*
Summary: The offer of a clean slate is great but the commute is a bitch
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five
“And another thing. I really resent you using the term volunteer so much when obviously -”
A cleared throat has Elizabeth turning around and noticing John in her doorway, one eyebrow up in question. Elizabeth sighs and cuts her eyes back to her computer monitor where the signal from Earth had been routed to. “It seems our guests are here,” Elizabeth says through gritted teeth and shuts her laptop lid before Woolsey has a chance to offer her more platitudes and excuses. Elizabeth stands and catches Chuck’s eye, making a slashing motion with her hand and the gate technician nods and disengages the wormhole.
“Bad time?” John hazards, his familiar smirk in place but looking a little forced. Elizabeth is left wondering what has happened between Earth and Atlantis to leave him looking more than a little harried.
“How was your flight?”
“Same old, same old,” John dismisses, waggling a hand. “The in-flight movie sucked and they didn’t have the good peanuts.”
“My heart bleeds for you,” Elizabeth says, letting herself smile for the first time in what feels like weeks. It’s short-lived though because John is still looking a little hunted and she knows he wants to say something but won’t if she doesn’t ask. He’s giving her the option, she realises. She can hear Rodney barking orders from the floor below and remembers that he went to oversee the requisition of equipment from Area 51 and is always at his most colorful when he comes back from Earth, like it rubs him the wrong way.
John is looking back over his shoulder at the gate room and Elizabeth is thankful. It’s always easier to ask him the tougher questions when she can’t see his expression. “Honestly, Dean and Sam Winchester? I want your opinion.”
John turns back slowly and he has had time to carefully school his features. “The younger guy I’m not so sure about. Teyla has had some time with him. The older one though…” John makes a helpless gesture with his hand and Elizabeth knows he is not being vague, is just trying to find a way to be diplomatic. “He’s dangerous.”
Elizabeth blinks. This, she was not expecting. “Really? I don’t think the-”
“You wanted me to be honest, give you my read on the situation,” John interrupts, holding up a hand. “That’s what I get. He’s reckless in a way I haven’t seen since…” John casts about and Elizabeth watches, not wanting to interrupt. “Since we came across Ronon the first time.”
Again, Elizabeth is surprised. “Ronon? But he was halfway feral when you found him, running on empty.”
“The difference,” John continues as if she hasn’t spoken, looking back towards the gate room and the scientists who all are scrambling to duck Rodney’s wrath. “Is that Ronon had nothing to lose. This Dean guy, he’s protecting something and that makes him ten times worse.”
Elizabeth lets her gaze travel down the line of John’s jaw and over his shoulders, reading tension radiating out from his very core. She has some understanding of what a man will do to protect what is his. She bore witness to John taking out an entire Genii strike team in order to do so.
“What are you suggesting?” Elizabeth asks slowly.
“I’m suggesting we be careful,” John says. “Extremely careful.”
000
Dean keeps just in front of Sam, the presence of armed men making him edgy. He knows they are all military and mostly no threat to him and Sam but he can’t help it. He sees men with guns in the proximity of his little brother who aren’t fellow hunters and he tenses right up.
Sam keeps running into him, eyes wide and mouth agape as they are led further into the city. There is glass and metal everywhere, a shiny place that is almost too vast for Dean to fathom. It helps to keep his focus on Sam behind him and the broad back of the man in front of him, who’d introduced himself as Major Lorne. “Don’t worry,” Lorne had said. “After a few weeks you’ll get used to it.” He’d been friendly and Dean had tried not to like his easygoing manner, reminding him of a younger Bobby. All he wants to do is keep his head down and Sam safe.
“Just how big is this place?” Sam asks, trotting like an exuberant puppy. He goes to push past Dean but Dean puts an arm out and shoves him back. Lorne looks over and doesn’t seem to notice, just grins.
“Pretty damn big. I think you could squeeze Manhattan into one section and we aren’t done exploring everything.”
“This is just… awesome,” Sam proclaims and Dean tries not to let Sam’s natural enthusiasm infect him. He needs to keep a level-head until they’re settled and even then. Dean stops when a room’s doors slide open as they pass and Sam runs into him again. “Hey, what’s this?” Sam asks, ducking inside the little room with what looks like a computer monitor with a two dimensional skin on it of the place they’re in.
“Sam!” Dean barks in irritation, moving in behind him just as Sam touches a finger to the screen. There’s the feeling like his stomach drops out and then the doors are open again and they are… somewhere else.
“Christ, what did you do?” Dean snaps, stepping out and looking around. Sam bites his lip and shrugs.
“Oops?”
“Just great Sam,” Dean huffs. “We’re here all of two seconds and you manage to get us lost.” Dean throws his arms out to indicate the darkened corridor he’s standing in. No matter how friendly Major Lorne appeared, Dean knows what he was, an armed escort. He just knows this isn’t going to end well and any trust and freedom in the place they might have had is gone.
“Maybe it was when I did-” Sam has his hands hovering over the screen again and Dean moves back into the small room to slap them away.
“How about we instigate a no touching rule, huh?” he grates and Sam flushes.
“How about you bite my ass?”
Dean mentally files Sam’s jibe away for later when he has more time to kick his younger brother’s ass and leans over to look at the skeletal map. It’s not very helpful because he had no idea where they were let alone where they are and there is no you are here sticker. Dean moves back out into the corridor and looks around again.
They’re definitely below where they first were, he decides. When they walked into the city from the deck there were windows looking out onto the ocean but there are no windows in the corridor they’re in. Dean shudders because the very idea that they are below sea level is just too creepy. There are lights though, becoming brighter as Dean moves further down the corridor and he hopes that means they are not in one of the unexplored sections of the city.
“So should it be weird that we’re in space? I mean, has it just not sunk it yet or something?” Sam asks, blatantly ignoring Dean’s new rule and running his hands over the wall opposite, tracing what looks like strange writing with his fingers. Dean knows Sam’s natural affinity for languages and he’s expecting the kid to be speaking klingon or whatever the hell it is by the time they’re leaving.
“Sam, we hunt ghosts, werewolves and vampires,” Dean chides with a grimace thrown in for the last because after all this time, nothing still pings his cheese-o-meter like vampires. “With the whole alien thing we’re just… well-rounded.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Sam agrees, flashing a quick smile that Dean almost misses. Sam had an enthusiasm about him that was exhausting to a younger Dean and had lost it somewhere along the way. Dean was willing to give this place a go if it would ease the tension in his little brother and give him some of his zest for the new that he used to have.
There hasn’t been a nightmare in weeks and Dean is hoping… just hoping.
Movement caught out of the corner of his eye has Dean spinning and dropping into a fight-ready crouch. He’s silently proud of Sam when he catches the younger Winchester doing the same. Something looms out of the darkness and heads straight for Sam and Dean is glad, only because it gives him a chance to intervene and hook an elbow into the charging form. He hits what feels like a solid wall and darts back a few steps and the shape resolves itself into a man, probably of a height with Sam, with dreads and dark eyes.
Dean watches the man shift focus from Sam to him and can understand. Sam is bigger, at first glance would be measured as the larger threat and not to underestimate Sam, given a blade or a melee weapon of any kind and Dean would happily give up the first dance but when it comes to brawling it’s Dean who should be the focus. He sees the man realise this in the way he turns slightly so he is facing Dean straight on while carefully keeping Sam still in his reach.
A kind of dizzy joy thrums through Dean because it has been too long that he has had a decent knock-down, drag out. Dean would go for a gun first because he is not stupid but if he had a choice, he would use his fists every time. He doesn’t like the distance a weapon puts between he and his enemy.
Dean adjusts, knowing he is going to have to get inside the man’s reach, fight him like he would fight Sam. Pure strength won’t win it for him; he needs to use his smaller size to his advantage. The man swings out and Dean ducks down and sideways, catching a blow that was meant for his jaw to the temple and his vision swims for a moment. Check, Dean thinks, no letting him hit me. Dean keeps Sam in the periphery of his vision, always aware of where he is. Sam is hanging back, ready to move in if it looks like Dean is in trouble but trusting Dean to do his thing.
Just as Dean darts forward and lands a series of quick, rabbit-punches to the guy’s torso, another voice rings out in the darkness. “Ronon!” The man immediately backs away, arms up and a grin on his face. He’s breathing hard and flips his hair out of his eyes, giving Dean a measured look. Dean is confused for a moment, adrenalin still coursing through him and making him punchy and it’s only when someone else steps into his line of sight that he drops his arms.
Sheppard.
The Colonel has a weapon held loosely in his hands, something that looks like a kid’s toy and he has it pointed at Sam. Dean clenches his fists but goes still, watching as the larger man, Ronon, moves to stand by Sheppard’s shoulder. Sheppard nudges Sam towards Dean with the weapon and Sam goes, looking pissed. He reaches fingers up towards Dean’s face and Dean ducks him, knowing he’s probably got a lovely red dent in his forehead that’s going to be a spectacular bruise.
“You know, I’m not sure what you think you were doing but it wasn’t smart,” Sheppard says and Dean bristles automatically. He knows it’s a waste of energy to dislike the military leader of a place he’s going to be stuck in for six months but he can’t help it. Something about Sheppard sets his teeth on edge.
“It was an accident,” Sam offers, crossing arms over his chest and Sheppard’s gaze cuts from Dean to Sam. He grins and although it looks affable, Dean has known too many men like Sheppard to take it as such.
“And I’m going to believe that this one and only time,” Sheppard says, pointing in the direction of the small room that got them into trouble in the first place. “Now, if you please?”
Dean moves behind Sam towards the room but a large hand on his shoulder stops him in his tracks. “Where’d you learn to fight like that?” Ronon asks, something careful in his voice.
“My Dad,” Dean offers and Ronon nods.
“Military?”
“He was,” Dean confirms and gets another nod. Sheppard is looking back at them and Dean can tell from his face that he’s annoyed.
000
“Confined to quarters and never allowed in the city unless with an armed escort,” John says, pacing Elizabeth’s office. Lorne is standing in the corner, looking guilty and as if he would be really pleased if the floor would just do him a favour and swallow him whole. Elizabeth lets her gaze wander out to the two men, oh who is she kidding, boys sitting at the meeting room table. They’re both slouched down and wearing identical sullen expressions.
“I don’t want them to feel like prisoners.”
John stops mid-pace and spins, nailing Elizabeth with narrowed eyes. “Excuse me?”
“John, they were plucked off the street with no idea what they were getting into. Put yourself in their shoes,” Elizabeth says but John is snatching one of the files off her desk and holding it out.
“Have you seen this? Reads like one of those creepy serial killer novels,” John snaps and Elizabeth can see he has Dean Winchester’s file. “Murder, fraud, grave desecration. Hell, if I had any say in it we would be shipping them back right now.”
“Well, you don’t,” Elizabeth snaps, hating to do it but knowing she has to reign John in. “Neither did I but the oversight committee and the SGC have the idea that someone gifted like Sam can be trained, used as a weapon against the Wraith.” Elizabeth shudders because the whole thing sounds desperate. “You know as well as I do that most of the charges on Dean’s record are explainable and the government has had their eye on those boys for a while. I say again, put yourself in their shoes.”
“I can watch them,” Ronon pipes up from the doorway and Elizabeth looks to him and smiles.
“Thankyou, Ronon,” she says, turning to John. “Will that let you unwind a little about this?”
“At least I won’t lose them in the first five minutes,” Ronon can’t help but add and Lorne sends a baleful look his way.
“If someone had told me the older brother had the gene,” Lorne starts and Elizabeth holds up her hands.
“Alright, enough. As I said, I don’t want these two feeling like prisoners, they don’t deserve that. They will have a short leash for now but I will afford them the trust they earn.” Elizabeth watches all three men. Ronon is wryly amused, Lorne still half-embarrassed and John seething. She’s still not sure exactly what happened between him and Dean to get him so riled up but she’s hoping John, reasonable man that he is, will let go of whatever it is. “Now, Carson wants to do a full physical before we debrief them and get them settled in their quarters so Ronon,” Elizabeth turns to the taller man. “Would you please take them?”
“Sure,” Ronon nods.
By:
kellifer_ficFandom: SPN/SGA
Rating: PG (language/adult themes)
Category: Crossover
Words: 2,555
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, no money!
Spoilers: None
Notes: Thanks to my beta *superfox*
Summary: The offer of a clean slate is great but the commute is a bitch
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five
“And another thing. I really resent you using the term volunteer so much when obviously -”
A cleared throat has Elizabeth turning around and noticing John in her doorway, one eyebrow up in question. Elizabeth sighs and cuts her eyes back to her computer monitor where the signal from Earth had been routed to. “It seems our guests are here,” Elizabeth says through gritted teeth and shuts her laptop lid before Woolsey has a chance to offer her more platitudes and excuses. Elizabeth stands and catches Chuck’s eye, making a slashing motion with her hand and the gate technician nods and disengages the wormhole.
“Bad time?” John hazards, his familiar smirk in place but looking a little forced. Elizabeth is left wondering what has happened between Earth and Atlantis to leave him looking more than a little harried.
“How was your flight?”
“Same old, same old,” John dismisses, waggling a hand. “The in-flight movie sucked and they didn’t have the good peanuts.”
“My heart bleeds for you,” Elizabeth says, letting herself smile for the first time in what feels like weeks. It’s short-lived though because John is still looking a little hunted and she knows he wants to say something but won’t if she doesn’t ask. He’s giving her the option, she realises. She can hear Rodney barking orders from the floor below and remembers that he went to oversee the requisition of equipment from Area 51 and is always at his most colorful when he comes back from Earth, like it rubs him the wrong way.
John is looking back over his shoulder at the gate room and Elizabeth is thankful. It’s always easier to ask him the tougher questions when she can’t see his expression. “Honestly, Dean and Sam Winchester? I want your opinion.”
John turns back slowly and he has had time to carefully school his features. “The younger guy I’m not so sure about. Teyla has had some time with him. The older one though…” John makes a helpless gesture with his hand and Elizabeth knows he is not being vague, is just trying to find a way to be diplomatic. “He’s dangerous.”
Elizabeth blinks. This, she was not expecting. “Really? I don’t think the-”
“You wanted me to be honest, give you my read on the situation,” John interrupts, holding up a hand. “That’s what I get. He’s reckless in a way I haven’t seen since…” John casts about and Elizabeth watches, not wanting to interrupt. “Since we came across Ronon the first time.”
Again, Elizabeth is surprised. “Ronon? But he was halfway feral when you found him, running on empty.”
“The difference,” John continues as if she hasn’t spoken, looking back towards the gate room and the scientists who all are scrambling to duck Rodney’s wrath. “Is that Ronon had nothing to lose. This Dean guy, he’s protecting something and that makes him ten times worse.”
Elizabeth lets her gaze travel down the line of John’s jaw and over his shoulders, reading tension radiating out from his very core. She has some understanding of what a man will do to protect what is his. She bore witness to John taking out an entire Genii strike team in order to do so.
“What are you suggesting?” Elizabeth asks slowly.
“I’m suggesting we be careful,” John says. “Extremely careful.”
Dean keeps just in front of Sam, the presence of armed men making him edgy. He knows they are all military and mostly no threat to him and Sam but he can’t help it. He sees men with guns in the proximity of his little brother who aren’t fellow hunters and he tenses right up.
Sam keeps running into him, eyes wide and mouth agape as they are led further into the city. There is glass and metal everywhere, a shiny place that is almost too vast for Dean to fathom. It helps to keep his focus on Sam behind him and the broad back of the man in front of him, who’d introduced himself as Major Lorne. “Don’t worry,” Lorne had said. “After a few weeks you’ll get used to it.” He’d been friendly and Dean had tried not to like his easygoing manner, reminding him of a younger Bobby. All he wants to do is keep his head down and Sam safe.
“Just how big is this place?” Sam asks, trotting like an exuberant puppy. He goes to push past Dean but Dean puts an arm out and shoves him back. Lorne looks over and doesn’t seem to notice, just grins.
“Pretty damn big. I think you could squeeze Manhattan into one section and we aren’t done exploring everything.”
“This is just… awesome,” Sam proclaims and Dean tries not to let Sam’s natural enthusiasm infect him. He needs to keep a level-head until they’re settled and even then. Dean stops when a room’s doors slide open as they pass and Sam runs into him again. “Hey, what’s this?” Sam asks, ducking inside the little room with what looks like a computer monitor with a two dimensional skin on it of the place they’re in.
“Sam!” Dean barks in irritation, moving in behind him just as Sam touches a finger to the screen. There’s the feeling like his stomach drops out and then the doors are open again and they are… somewhere else.
“Christ, what did you do?” Dean snaps, stepping out and looking around. Sam bites his lip and shrugs.
“Oops?”
“Just great Sam,” Dean huffs. “We’re here all of two seconds and you manage to get us lost.” Dean throws his arms out to indicate the darkened corridor he’s standing in. No matter how friendly Major Lorne appeared, Dean knows what he was, an armed escort. He just knows this isn’t going to end well and any trust and freedom in the place they might have had is gone.
“Maybe it was when I did-” Sam has his hands hovering over the screen again and Dean moves back into the small room to slap them away.
“How about we instigate a no touching rule, huh?” he grates and Sam flushes.
“How about you bite my ass?”
Dean mentally files Sam’s jibe away for later when he has more time to kick his younger brother’s ass and leans over to look at the skeletal map. It’s not very helpful because he had no idea where they were let alone where they are and there is no you are here sticker. Dean moves back out into the corridor and looks around again.
They’re definitely below where they first were, he decides. When they walked into the city from the deck there were windows looking out onto the ocean but there are no windows in the corridor they’re in. Dean shudders because the very idea that they are below sea level is just too creepy. There are lights though, becoming brighter as Dean moves further down the corridor and he hopes that means they are not in one of the unexplored sections of the city.
“So should it be weird that we’re in space? I mean, has it just not sunk it yet or something?” Sam asks, blatantly ignoring Dean’s new rule and running his hands over the wall opposite, tracing what looks like strange writing with his fingers. Dean knows Sam’s natural affinity for languages and he’s expecting the kid to be speaking klingon or whatever the hell it is by the time they’re leaving.
“Sam, we hunt ghosts, werewolves and vampires,” Dean chides with a grimace thrown in for the last because after all this time, nothing still pings his cheese-o-meter like vampires. “With the whole alien thing we’re just… well-rounded.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Sam agrees, flashing a quick smile that Dean almost misses. Sam had an enthusiasm about him that was exhausting to a younger Dean and had lost it somewhere along the way. Dean was willing to give this place a go if it would ease the tension in his little brother and give him some of his zest for the new that he used to have.
There hasn’t been a nightmare in weeks and Dean is hoping… just hoping.
Movement caught out of the corner of his eye has Dean spinning and dropping into a fight-ready crouch. He’s silently proud of Sam when he catches the younger Winchester doing the same. Something looms out of the darkness and heads straight for Sam and Dean is glad, only because it gives him a chance to intervene and hook an elbow into the charging form. He hits what feels like a solid wall and darts back a few steps and the shape resolves itself into a man, probably of a height with Sam, with dreads and dark eyes.
Dean watches the man shift focus from Sam to him and can understand. Sam is bigger, at first glance would be measured as the larger threat and not to underestimate Sam, given a blade or a melee weapon of any kind and Dean would happily give up the first dance but when it comes to brawling it’s Dean who should be the focus. He sees the man realise this in the way he turns slightly so he is facing Dean straight on while carefully keeping Sam still in his reach.
A kind of dizzy joy thrums through Dean because it has been too long that he has had a decent knock-down, drag out. Dean would go for a gun first because he is not stupid but if he had a choice, he would use his fists every time. He doesn’t like the distance a weapon puts between he and his enemy.
Dean adjusts, knowing he is going to have to get inside the man’s reach, fight him like he would fight Sam. Pure strength won’t win it for him; he needs to use his smaller size to his advantage. The man swings out and Dean ducks down and sideways, catching a blow that was meant for his jaw to the temple and his vision swims for a moment. Check, Dean thinks, no letting him hit me. Dean keeps Sam in the periphery of his vision, always aware of where he is. Sam is hanging back, ready to move in if it looks like Dean is in trouble but trusting Dean to do his thing.
Just as Dean darts forward and lands a series of quick, rabbit-punches to the guy’s torso, another voice rings out in the darkness. “Ronon!” The man immediately backs away, arms up and a grin on his face. He’s breathing hard and flips his hair out of his eyes, giving Dean a measured look. Dean is confused for a moment, adrenalin still coursing through him and making him punchy and it’s only when someone else steps into his line of sight that he drops his arms.
Sheppard.
The Colonel has a weapon held loosely in his hands, something that looks like a kid’s toy and he has it pointed at Sam. Dean clenches his fists but goes still, watching as the larger man, Ronon, moves to stand by Sheppard’s shoulder. Sheppard nudges Sam towards Dean with the weapon and Sam goes, looking pissed. He reaches fingers up towards Dean’s face and Dean ducks him, knowing he’s probably got a lovely red dent in his forehead that’s going to be a spectacular bruise.
“You know, I’m not sure what you think you were doing but it wasn’t smart,” Sheppard says and Dean bristles automatically. He knows it’s a waste of energy to dislike the military leader of a place he’s going to be stuck in for six months but he can’t help it. Something about Sheppard sets his teeth on edge.
“It was an accident,” Sam offers, crossing arms over his chest and Sheppard’s gaze cuts from Dean to Sam. He grins and although it looks affable, Dean has known too many men like Sheppard to take it as such.
“And I’m going to believe that this one and only time,” Sheppard says, pointing in the direction of the small room that got them into trouble in the first place. “Now, if you please?”
Dean moves behind Sam towards the room but a large hand on his shoulder stops him in his tracks. “Where’d you learn to fight like that?” Ronon asks, something careful in his voice.
“My Dad,” Dean offers and Ronon nods.
“Military?”
“He was,” Dean confirms and gets another nod. Sheppard is looking back at them and Dean can tell from his face that he’s annoyed.
“Confined to quarters and never allowed in the city unless with an armed escort,” John says, pacing Elizabeth’s office. Lorne is standing in the corner, looking guilty and as if he would be really pleased if the floor would just do him a favour and swallow him whole. Elizabeth lets her gaze wander out to the two men, oh who is she kidding, boys sitting at the meeting room table. They’re both slouched down and wearing identical sullen expressions.
“I don’t want them to feel like prisoners.”
John stops mid-pace and spins, nailing Elizabeth with narrowed eyes. “Excuse me?”
“John, they were plucked off the street with no idea what they were getting into. Put yourself in their shoes,” Elizabeth says but John is snatching one of the files off her desk and holding it out.
“Have you seen this? Reads like one of those creepy serial killer novels,” John snaps and Elizabeth can see he has Dean Winchester’s file. “Murder, fraud, grave desecration. Hell, if I had any say in it we would be shipping them back right now.”
“Well, you don’t,” Elizabeth snaps, hating to do it but knowing she has to reign John in. “Neither did I but the oversight committee and the SGC have the idea that someone gifted like Sam can be trained, used as a weapon against the Wraith.” Elizabeth shudders because the whole thing sounds desperate. “You know as well as I do that most of the charges on Dean’s record are explainable and the government has had their eye on those boys for a while. I say again, put yourself in their shoes.”
“I can watch them,” Ronon pipes up from the doorway and Elizabeth looks to him and smiles.
“Thankyou, Ronon,” she says, turning to John. “Will that let you unwind a little about this?”
“At least I won’t lose them in the first five minutes,” Ronon can’t help but add and Lorne sends a baleful look his way.
“If someone had told me the older brother had the gene,” Lorne starts and Elizabeth holds up her hands.
“Alright, enough. As I said, I don’t want these two feeling like prisoners, they don’t deserve that. They will have a short leash for now but I will afford them the trust they earn.” Elizabeth watches all three men. Ronon is wryly amused, Lorne still half-embarrassed and John seething. She’s still not sure exactly what happened between him and Dean to get him so riled up but she’s hoping John, reasonable man that he is, will let go of whatever it is. “Now, Carson wants to do a full physical before we debrief them and get them settled in their quarters so Ronon,” Elizabeth turns to the taller man. “Would you please take them?”
“Sure,” Ronon nods.