DVD commentary meme part 1

[bluflamingo]

From After All:

Ah, a little bit of John freaking out, because it wouldn’t be the Never Going Home verse without a bit of John freaking out…

Rodney’s grumbling trails off as he follows Ronon back to the kitchen, leaving John and Teyla behind. John knows he should follow, wants to, but he just needs a minute to wrap his head around this universe, where Rodney’s the one who remembers that Ronon, now he's used to coffee, drinks it by the bucketful, near enough, and Teyla always feels better, more settled, when she has her tea. John used to know these things, and now he’s forgetting.

Maybe I wrote this bit because I wanted a John+Teyla bit? That seems like something I’d do – I love their friendship, because I have a huge thing for male/female platonic friendships

He wonders if they’re forgetting parts of him as well, how many years it will be before they stop coming to visit, before Atlantis is just a faded memory.

Even with the evidence standing in front of him (or arguing in his kitchen), John still can’t trust that they care for him that much. This John is still damaged from his broken relationship with his family, and still depressed over having to leave Atlantis, and it doesn’t lead to easy confidence in other people.

“John.” Teyla touches his arm, pulling him back to reality.

“I’m fine,” he says, putting on a smile that doesn’t seem to convince Teyla. At least some things don't change. Semi-interesting thing: I pick up phrases other people use really fast – it drove my parents nuts when I was a kid. I’ve picked up this verbal tic – saying I’m fine before anyone can ask – from writing it into too many stories. You’d think it would go the other way, but no.

“Then perhaps you will hold Tagan for me – I prefer not to have boiling water too close to him.”

“Sure,” John says, already reaching for him. Tagan makes a high, happy sound – he’s such a quiet child, always has been – and curls his little hands in John’s shirt. John takes a couple of deep breaths, trying to pull it together, looking down at Tagan’s open, smiling face. “Hey there, little guy. You remember who I am?”

Oh, this one has Tagan, from before season 4 aired. I’d forgotten that. I imagined, in the future, him coming to spend summers with John and Rodney, and, unlike most children, attaching himself firmly to John and not Rodney, because John has cool stories and is happy to make a mess. And Rodney notices that it makes John happy, and goes into a paranoid spiral about whether John wants kids until John makes him stop, because John does want them but knows he can’t have them, and he’s John, so God forbid he ever have to think about it.

“Of course he does,” Teyla says, familiar you’re-an-idiot-but-I-still-like-you tone, and somehow that makes it easier.

Though I do wonder now if actually Teyla would be more willing to go along with John’s worries, because even when she stayed on Atlantis and the Athosians left, they were never so far away that she couldn’t visit easily, and maybe it is all new to her. On the other hand, she has common sense, and more emotional distance than John, so she can probably apply some logic where John can’t.



From After All again:

They end up in the living room, Rodney at one end of the couch, Ronon at the other, Teyla curled in Rodney’s favorite armchair. John sits on the floor by Rodney I don’t know why, but I like John sitting on the floor, close enough to lean sideways and touch, if he wants to. He wants to, ends up leaning his head against Rodney’s knee, Rodney’s hand drifting down to pet his hair as his friends’ voices wash over him And so he doesn’t notice that Ronon and Teyla are giving Rodney worried looks, and Rodney’s shrugging back helplessly, because the only person who maybe can’t see that something’s wrong with John is John. Or he can, but he can’t say it – he wants that explicit comfort and affection from Rodney, which is actually a pretty big step, since they weren’t together when they left, so this is the first time he’s been open about the relationship in front of Ronon and Teyla.. Tagan is fascinated with the twist of black leather John wears in place of his wristband, twisting his fingers into it and turning it, round and round John’s wrist. John can’t stop watching, listening to Tagan’s babble. He’s almost sure he knows the answers, sometimes, even if he can’t tell what questions Tagan’s asking. I think that was meant as a kind of metaphor for John’s head – he sort of knows he’s not okay, but he can’t articulate how.



From The Year That Was:

Sheppard says, “I’m buying,” a couple of times, and, “So, there’s not…” and, finally, “You want to get out of here?”

Shorthand the actual date part :o) Not my favourite thing to write, people making awkward small talk, and I wanted to get on with the story.

Cam’s drunk just enough to say yes.

This universe’s Cam interests me because he doesn’t have the confidence that comes with his place in his own universe, hence the liquid courage.

Sheppard’s apartment isn’t what he expects, another reminder that this isn’t the Sheppard he knew. Not that he could say why he doesn’t expect the high ceilings, the huge windows, the open plan rooms. There’s just something about Sheppard that’s always made Cam think he’d want walls around him, something to keep him safe when he’s on the ground.

It’s such a cliché of Sheppard on Earth fic that he lives high up with big windows to see the sky, yet in the show, he seems to live happily enough in a room without that. And Cam’s perception of him is that he keeps earth and sky separate, hence the walls. I think Cam’s wrong about the reason, but right about the effects – that Sheppard *does* like to have walls, or at least our universe Sheppard. For Cam’s Sheppard, the space is almost an act of defiance to the Air Force – you think you can take this away from me, but you can’t. Which is why he’s mocking himself, because he knows it, on one level.

“Home sweet home,” Sheppard says, mocking himself; shrugs out of his jacket, toes off his shoes, then comes back to where Cam’s still standing just inside the closed door and runs one hand up Cam’s arm until he reaches the short sleeve of his shirt. “This okay?”

Cam wants to say no, because it’s not, none of this is, because he’s pretending and it isn’t fair, and he doesn’t want to be. Except Sheppard’s familiar, and the dull, constant ache of homesickness isn’t quite so bad around him. But just not-familiar enough for Cam to deal with him – a big part of why Cam went to him is that he’s clearly different in this universe. Or maybe it’s worse, Cam can’t tell any more, but he knows he doesn’t want to leave. “Yeah,” he says, and lets Sheppard pull him in to kiss him, warm and slow and tasting of a beer he’s never drunk anywhere but here.

There was going to be this whole thing about them going to a movie that had come out already in Cam’s real universe, or was a sequel to a flop, or was somehow different, but I couldn’t work it in, so they got weird beer instead.

Cam knows all the stereotypes of closeted, military hook-ups, frantic, adrenalin-driven one-night stands, and he’s had his share of those. He knows how to look for people who want something a bit more as well, some kind of connection, however fleeting. It’s part of why he never tried with Sheppard, because Sheppard had all the connection he could handle with Atlantis, and there was none to spare for anyone else.

My Cam doesn’t really do frantic sex in a bathroom stall, or whatever he thinks of the stereotypes as – he wants to be in a relationship, or at least have a relationship with the person he’s having sex with, even if it’s friendship. He’s totally a product of his upbringing, and he wants what his parents have. Sheppard, on the other hand… well, he’s a product of his upbringing too, and it taught him that getting attached to people hurts. Far safer to get attached to a city, or to a group that won’t change.

This Sheppard has plenty to spare, more than Cam feels entirely safe with, but it feels good and he already said yes, hasn’t changed his mind. They kiss for what feels like forever on Sheppard’s carefully made bed, curtains wide open, four floors up and away from anyone who might look in, and when it finally goes further, it’s no less easy and slow, coming like the one time Cam went gliding, a long-drawn out slide on warm air currents.

Oh God, shorthanded the date, shorthanded the sex... I don’t hate writing sex scenes, but I struggle to make them non-generic. Also, I love the idea of them having sex in some kind of natural light, sun or moon. It’s a thing, I dunno.

After, Sheppard drags the comforter up over both of them where they’re lying side by side, looking up at the dim shadow. Cam takes it as permission to stay, and falls asleep almost immediately, the first time he’s managed that since he got here.

And Sheppard lies awake watching him and feeling kind of amazed, because he was so sure that Cam would bolt and never be seen again, and Sheppard doesn’t quite know what to do with this level of relief that he didn’t. They’re both in too deep.



From The Year That Was again:

I can’t remember why I included this bit. Slavish adherence to canon? Desire for a comic interlude before the angst? Desire to write John Sheppard staking his claim? All of the above? I don’t know.

The front door of Ryan’s house opens, and Mrs. Anderson steps onto the porch. “Ryan? Oh, hey, Cam.”

Cam winces. Mrs. Anderson seems like a perfectly nice woman, but he’s pretty sure she thinks he seems like a perfectly nice potential second husband and – yeah. Not so much. “Hey. Ryan was giving me his opinion on my new wheels.”

She wanders over, puts an arm round Ryan’s shoulders. “I like it,” she says contemplatively.

“What about the color, mom?” Ryan asks, grinning at Cam. Cam and kids is like John and kids for me: I love reading it, and I love writing it.

“I –“ she starts, and John chooses that moment to step out. He looks a little shell-shocked, but Cam thinks he’s the only one who’ll notice. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had someone with you.”

Oh yeah, the shell-shock thing. John finally getting confirmation of what he suspects, that there’s something up with the yarn Cam’s spinning him. And so maybe the ‘staking his claim’ is a reaction to that: he wants to make it clear that he’s going to stand by Cam, even if he can’t know if Cam knows what he's thinking.

“Mrs. Anderson, Ryan, this is John.”

John smiles, reaches out to shake her hand, then Ryan’s. “Pleasure to meet you,” he says.

“You too,” Mrs. Anderson says, looking a little unsure. “It’s Heather, though. I keep telling Cam.”

Cam makes a vaguely self-deprecating gesture – poor memory, what can you do?

The curse of being polite and vaguely courtly, people tend to read into it. Unfortunately, she’s not reading into Cam refusing to call her by name.

“Heather,” John repeats, and they all look at each other in silence for a moment before Mrs. Anderson pulls up another polite smile and asks, “Are you a friend of Cam’s from work?”

“Nope,” John says brightly. He shifts slightly, till his side’s pressed against Cam’s, and Mrs. Anderson’s eyebrows go up. That’s one way to solve that problem, Cam supposes. “We’d love to stay and chat, but he’s promised me dinner, so –“

“No, of course.” Mrs. Anderson waves them towards the house. “Don’t let me keep you. It was nice to meet you, John. Nice car, Cam.”

John stays where he is till their front door closes again, then turns slightly, resting his forehead on Cam’s shoulder so Cam can feel him shaking with suppressed laughter. “Fuck, sorry.”

Huh, I think that’s pretty much the last happy moment in the whole story – after that it’s all mistrust and broken hearts and alien invasions. How depressing.

Cam half-hugs him. “No sweat. Feel free to out me to all my neighbors.”

Poor Heather, standing in her doorway watching them and realizing she totally misread Cam, because he’s obviously completely gone on John.



Two linked parts from The Year That Was again:

Cam wakes up at some indeterminate time of the night to a sudden awareness of being watched. Because I love a good middle of the night conversation, even if Cam doesn’t actually say anything in this one He’s had years of practice at waking up without giving it away, and after a moment, John’s hand comes down lightly on his forehead, stroking his hair back It’s a very non-sexual touch; John really does want to just comfort and connect, which is why he waits for Cam to wake up before he does it.. “You don’t have to tell me the truth,” he says, barely above a whisper. Cam can’t tell if John knows he’s awake, suspects he does. He keeps his eyes closed, afraid of what he’ll see if he opens them. Of what John might see.

If he’d looked at John then, he would have told John the whole story, because John’s looking at him with complete trust and faith, and a fair helping of love, and Cam desperately wants both to tell his secret and for John specifically to know him that way.

“It wouldn’t –“ make a difference, which he doesn’t finish because he knows he’s lying John starts. “I’d still…” love you. care for you. Which he doesn’t know if Cam is ready to hear yet. He sighs, goes silent for long enough that Cam thinks that’s it. He’s just drifting away again when John says, very close to his ear, “I’m not going anywhere.” And now he’s hit on a truth that he can say.
_____

There’s a long pause, then John says, “I believe you believe it.” Ouch. It’s not quite as bad as ‘you’re crazy, you’re lying,’ but it’s so damned close, when Cam trusted John to trust him. And forgot a little, maybe, that this John doesn’t have aliens and spaceships.

It feels like being slapped, like the time he got flung into a wall by Khalek, and Cam takes a stumbling step away, reaching for something to balance against that isn’t there.

“Cam,” John says, reaching for him. John wants to believe it, even if ‘I believe you believe it’ is as close as he can come. Partly because he knows that Cam is not okay, and that he has a big secret, and this is a better explanation than some of the possibilities.

Cam shakes his head. He wants to be anywhere else but here. “You said -.” I’m not going anywhere.

You said I could trust you, even if you didn’t say those words. So I did, and now it seems like I can’t. It’s just about the worst thing John could have done to him, but there’s still so much under it that Cam stays with him.