Don't be a dick, be a dude. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sabinetzin) wrote2011-06-13 12:49 am
sabinetzin) wrote2011-06-13 12:49 am
Entry tags:
Fic: An Island in the Setting Sun
Title: An Island in the Setting Sun
Series: The Goddamned Genderswap
Summary: It's a day of permanent changes.
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Word Count: 1277
Rating/Contents: R, tattooing, possessive themes, cis-female!McKay
Pairing: John/Meredith
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: Who better for my![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
kink_bingo possession/marking square than John and Meredith? I mean, come on now. Oh yeah- and this makes bingo!
It's their third day back on Earth, and Meredith and John are lazing about the tiny kitchen in their hotel room in Colorado Springs, just enjoying the comparatively lush surroundings.
"So, I was thinking we could go and see Jeannie," she says, scrawling numbers into her sudoku book, "and while we're in Toronto, we could get married."
John almost does a spit-take with his coffee. "What, really?"
"Yes, really." She rolls her eyes at him. "What, you want me to get down on bended knee for you?"
"Hey, I asked the last time. It's not my turn."
"I was just thinking that your ex-wife was exactly what this conversation needed." Her voice gets high and tight, and John knows she's embarrassed.
"C'mere," he says, wrapping his arms around her. "Of course I want to get married. I just didn't know you wanted to."
"Good," she says. "I was going to kick you in the balls if you'd said no."
"I know," John replies, kissing the top of her head.
"Rings are horrifically impractical in my line of work, of course," Meredith says, holding him a little tighter. "I was thinking I could get a tattoo."
John's mouth drops open.
She snorts. "I knew you'd like that."
--
The wedding is pretty much the opposite of John and Nancy's lavish affair, for which John is enormously grateful. Besides John and Meredith, there's only Ronon, Teyla, Jeannie, Caleb, Madison, and the officiant, all standing in Jeannie's backyard. Nobody's particularly dressed up; the only reason Meredith even has a bouquet is that Madison pulled some flowers out of the garden and wrapped them up with a scrap of white fabric.
It is, of course, perfect.
"Now you're never getting away," John whispers after they kiss, their foreheads pressed together.
"Who would want to?" Meredith returns, kissing him again.
Almost as soon as they've cut their little cake, they head for the tattoo parlor. Meredith has done a fanatical amount of research, but she almost balks when she sees the outside of the place, which looks pretty much like all the other tattoo parlors John has ever seen, dingy and a little sketchy-looking. The inside, thankfully, doesn't match the outside at all; the walls are bright white where they're not absolutely covered in artwork, and everything looks very clean.
"You must be John and Meredith," the woman behind the desk says. "I just need you to fill out some paperwork, then I'll go get Rachel for you."
There's some business with IDs and waivers, and then the receptionist produces Rachel, the artist, a tiny woman with a mess of dark hair. She's all covered in tattoos, of course, and most of it looks really amazing, interspersed with the little pieces that clearly represent where she was used as a guinea pig.
"Ready to rock and roll?" she says cheerfully.
"As we'll ever be," John replies.
"Here's what I want," Meredith says, smoothing her design out against the desk.
"Very cool," Rachel says approvingly. "Have a seat in the back. I'll clean this up a little, then we'll get started."
Meredith takes his hand and pulls him along into the studio, depositing him in a chair and climbing into the hot seat. "Still sure about this?" John says.
Meredith rolls his eyes. "Great. I married an idiot."
John's caught between the amusement of being called an idiot for what must be the third time in their very short marriage and the indescribable feeling of, y'know, being reminded that he's actually married to this woman now.
Before he can think of something sarcastic to say, the tattoo artist comes in, fresh stencil in hand. She and Meredith fuss over it for a little bit, getting the lines and the placement just right, but then comes the point where they can't argue over it anymore- it's go time.
Meredith is so tense when the artist comes towards her with the tattoo gun that John thinks she's just going to curl up. "Here it comes," Rachel says, and Meredith squeezes her eyes shut.
After a few seconds, she opens them again. "Oh," she says, peering down at her arm. "Is that all?"
"Yeah," Rachel says. "That's all. It's not going to kill you."
Meredith relaxes. "Yes, okay, this we can do. John, stop laughing at me."
The tattoo grows slowly, the stark black lines spreading over Meredith's skin. For the first time in his life, John wishes he knew how to work a tattoo gun, so that there could be nothing standing between the two of them, not even the artist. It's almost as good, though, to watch it happen, watch the ink as it goes under her skin, marking her as his forever.
John shifts, realizing suddenly that his cock is starting to get hard. He can't really be blamed for it, as inappropriate as it is; this is the hottest, most meaningful thing anyone has ever done for him, and he's totally entranced by it. Now everyone is always going to know; it's the closest he can get to writing his name all over her, which isn't that bad of an idea as far as he's concerned.
"There we go," Rachel says, rubbing something shiny into Meredith's skin over the finished tattoo. "What do you think?"
"It's gorgeous," Meredith says, looking at it in the mirror.
"Ditto," John says, lost for words, lost in staring at it.
"Then my work here is done," Rachel says happily, bandaging it up. "You'll want to help her up," she tells John, after she's given them the proper care and feeding instructions.
"I'll be-" Meredith starts, as she pushes up from the chair, but she falls back into it again. "Or maybe I won't." She lets John lever her up, laughing as she leans heavily against him.
"Endorphins," Rachel says. "Don't let her wander off. I don't know what she'd do, but I guarantee she'd think it was really funny."
"I'm pretty sure everything is really funny," Meredith says.
"What did I tell you?" Rachel replies.
John manages to herd Meredith back to the reception desk, pay, and guide her out into the parking lot without much incident.
"You need to take me back to the hotel and fuck me right this instant," she says as they approach the rental car, gripping his arm for support.
"Might not make it back to the hotel," he growls, pulling her close.
"We're not doing it in a parking lot," Meredith says primly. "At least, not this one. They know us here."
"Then get in the car," he says, opening her door and shuffling her in.
When they get back to the hotel, after the raucous sex, John reverently peels the bandage away, and there it is, his mark, clear as day. Picking up the special soap the artist gave them, he pours it onto his fingertips, lathering it gently against the surface of the tattoo, washing it softly until it looks pristine.
Meredith catches his hand, kissing it. "Nice work, Colonel McKay," she says, smiling.
"Same to you, Doctor Sheppard," he returns. He kisses her arm, carefully avoiding getting his germs all over the fresh tattoo. "Mine."
She traces her hand through his hair. "All yours, just as long as you're mine."
"Always," he promises, and he's never meant anything more in his life.
Series: The Goddamned Genderswap
Summary: It's a day of permanent changes.
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Word Count: 1277
Rating/Contents: R, tattooing, possessive themes, cis-female!McKay
Pairing: John/Meredith
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: Who better for my
kink_bingo possession/marking square than John and Meredith? I mean, come on now. Oh yeah- and this makes bingo!It's their third day back on Earth, and Meredith and John are lazing about the tiny kitchen in their hotel room in Colorado Springs, just enjoying the comparatively lush surroundings.
"So, I was thinking we could go and see Jeannie," she says, scrawling numbers into her sudoku book, "and while we're in Toronto, we could get married."
John almost does a spit-take with his coffee. "What, really?"
"Yes, really." She rolls her eyes at him. "What, you want me to get down on bended knee for you?"
"Hey, I asked the last time. It's not my turn."
"I was just thinking that your ex-wife was exactly what this conversation needed." Her voice gets high and tight, and John knows she's embarrassed.
"C'mere," he says, wrapping his arms around her. "Of course I want to get married. I just didn't know you wanted to."
"Good," she says. "I was going to kick you in the balls if you'd said no."
"I know," John replies, kissing the top of her head.
"Rings are horrifically impractical in my line of work, of course," Meredith says, holding him a little tighter. "I was thinking I could get a tattoo."
John's mouth drops open.
She snorts. "I knew you'd like that."
--
The wedding is pretty much the opposite of John and Nancy's lavish affair, for which John is enormously grateful. Besides John and Meredith, there's only Ronon, Teyla, Jeannie, Caleb, Madison, and the officiant, all standing in Jeannie's backyard. Nobody's particularly dressed up; the only reason Meredith even has a bouquet is that Madison pulled some flowers out of the garden and wrapped them up with a scrap of white fabric.
It is, of course, perfect.
"Now you're never getting away," John whispers after they kiss, their foreheads pressed together.
"Who would want to?" Meredith returns, kissing him again.
Almost as soon as they've cut their little cake, they head for the tattoo parlor. Meredith has done a fanatical amount of research, but she almost balks when she sees the outside of the place, which looks pretty much like all the other tattoo parlors John has ever seen, dingy and a little sketchy-looking. The inside, thankfully, doesn't match the outside at all; the walls are bright white where they're not absolutely covered in artwork, and everything looks very clean.
"You must be John and Meredith," the woman behind the desk says. "I just need you to fill out some paperwork, then I'll go get Rachel for you."
There's some business with IDs and waivers, and then the receptionist produces Rachel, the artist, a tiny woman with a mess of dark hair. She's all covered in tattoos, of course, and most of it looks really amazing, interspersed with the little pieces that clearly represent where she was used as a guinea pig.
"Ready to rock and roll?" she says cheerfully.
"As we'll ever be," John replies.
"Here's what I want," Meredith says, smoothing her design out against the desk.
"Very cool," Rachel says approvingly. "Have a seat in the back. I'll clean this up a little, then we'll get started."
Meredith takes his hand and pulls him along into the studio, depositing him in a chair and climbing into the hot seat. "Still sure about this?" John says.
Meredith rolls his eyes. "Great. I married an idiot."
John's caught between the amusement of being called an idiot for what must be the third time in their very short marriage and the indescribable feeling of, y'know, being reminded that he's actually married to this woman now.
Before he can think of something sarcastic to say, the tattoo artist comes in, fresh stencil in hand. She and Meredith fuss over it for a little bit, getting the lines and the placement just right, but then comes the point where they can't argue over it anymore- it's go time.
Meredith is so tense when the artist comes towards her with the tattoo gun that John thinks she's just going to curl up. "Here it comes," Rachel says, and Meredith squeezes her eyes shut.
After a few seconds, she opens them again. "Oh," she says, peering down at her arm. "Is that all?"
"Yeah," Rachel says. "That's all. It's not going to kill you."
Meredith relaxes. "Yes, okay, this we can do. John, stop laughing at me."
The tattoo grows slowly, the stark black lines spreading over Meredith's skin. For the first time in his life, John wishes he knew how to work a tattoo gun, so that there could be nothing standing between the two of them, not even the artist. It's almost as good, though, to watch it happen, watch the ink as it goes under her skin, marking her as his forever.
John shifts, realizing suddenly that his cock is starting to get hard. He can't really be blamed for it, as inappropriate as it is; this is the hottest, most meaningful thing anyone has ever done for him, and he's totally entranced by it. Now everyone is always going to know; it's the closest he can get to writing his name all over her, which isn't that bad of an idea as far as he's concerned.
"There we go," Rachel says, rubbing something shiny into Meredith's skin over the finished tattoo. "What do you think?"
"It's gorgeous," Meredith says, looking at it in the mirror.
"Ditto," John says, lost for words, lost in staring at it.
"Then my work here is done," Rachel says happily, bandaging it up. "You'll want to help her up," she tells John, after she's given them the proper care and feeding instructions.
"I'll be-" Meredith starts, as she pushes up from the chair, but she falls back into it again. "Or maybe I won't." She lets John lever her up, laughing as she leans heavily against him.
"Endorphins," Rachel says. "Don't let her wander off. I don't know what she'd do, but I guarantee she'd think it was really funny."
"I'm pretty sure everything is really funny," Meredith says.
"What did I tell you?" Rachel replies.
John manages to herd Meredith back to the reception desk, pay, and guide her out into the parking lot without much incident.
"You need to take me back to the hotel and fuck me right this instant," she says as they approach the rental car, gripping his arm for support.
"Might not make it back to the hotel," he growls, pulling her close.
"We're not doing it in a parking lot," Meredith says primly. "At least, not this one. They know us here."
"Then get in the car," he says, opening her door and shuffling her in.
When they get back to the hotel, after the raucous sex, John reverently peels the bandage away, and there it is, his mark, clear as day. Picking up the special soap the artist gave them, he pours it onto his fingertips, lathering it gently against the surface of the tattoo, washing it softly until it looks pristine.
Meredith catches his hand, kissing it. "Nice work, Colonel McKay," she says, smiling.
"Same to you, Doctor Sheppard," he returns. He kisses her arm, carefully avoiding getting his germs all over the fresh tattoo. "Mine."
She traces her hand through his hair. "All yours, just as long as you're mine."
"Always," he promises, and he's never meant anything more in his life.