Chapter Text
Love consists in this, that two solitudes protect and touch and greet each other.
- Rainer Maria Rilke
Debriefing. Science briefings. More debriefings. Military briefings. Even more debriefings. Political briefings. Just one last debriefing, Dr. Beckett…
Carson was just about briefed out. He and his colleagues from Atlantis had been trapped under Cheyenne Mountain for two weeks now, giving what appeared to be everyone and his brother the run-down on the past year in the Pegasus galaxy.
In his spare moments, he'd been surfing the net, ordering things to take back with them to the city of the Ancients. Medical equipment mostly - though he'd taken a few moments to find a web site based in the Czech Republic that shipped becherovka anywhere in the world and ordered a few bottles as a surprise for Radek, who'd been left to hold the fort in Atlantis. His special instructions included labeling the package as "rubbing alcohol," which would take care of the damned snoopy Air Force comptrollers.
The more mundane things on his shopping list he left until he could get to a real brick-and-mortar store, because really, who wanted to order their underwear on the Internet? Then he went back to his personnel applications and choosing the new members of his medical team.
When they were finally let out of the mountain, the Atlantis team spread out across Colorado Springs, shopping lists from left-behind team members in hand. Most of his fellow Atlanteans headed for the Cheyenne Mountain Center, but Carson stopped at Target. A store named Target so close to one of the most important military installations in North America tickled his funny bone. Of course, there was no sense wasting money on designer skivvies when he could get perfectly serviceable ones here.
He stood at the front of the store, credit cards in one hand and shopping list in the other. The noise level was incredible, especially after a year living with only 200 people in a city meant to hold tens of thousands. Bickering couples of all shapes, sizes, and colors, milled back and forth, and towed screaming children behind them. The PA system announced special prices and played unrecognizable muzak. It was just his luck that the only day he had available to shop for Radek was a Saturday. He closed his eyes and summoned the concentration of a surgeon. Get in, get what you came for, and get out. Yes. He could do this.
First on the list - underwear, boxer briefs, size medium, twelve pair. Carson spotted the sign that said "Men's Wear" and plunged into the seething mass of humanity. Reaching his first goal, he skimmed over the color choices available. Almost none of the items on the shelf were white, the color Radek usually wore. Carson shrugged and grinned a bit. If he'd wanted plain white, he should have said plain white. Grabbing brightly colored packages and inspecting them for size, he tossed a half-dozen of them in the cart. The green and red stripes would look very fetching indeed, and the penguins would likely make Radek blush. Choosing a batch of boxer shorts for himself took no time at all.
On the next aisle were athletic socks and t-shirts. Two dozen pairs of socks and an equal number of undershirts, half in his size and half in Radek's, flew into the cart. Thinking for a moment, Carson threw in another six pairs of socks each. Military issue footwear was hard on socks.
Next - Radek wanted jeans, and Carson wanted him to have them. Waist 28, inseam 28, three pair, pre-washed. Moving in that direction, Carson spotted the ones he wanted immediately - low-riders, boot cut, that would show off the small but firm ass to advantage. Yes, indeed. Three pair of the dream-inducing denims hit the cart. Hesitating, Carson grabbed a fourth pair, on the principle that there was no such thing as too much of a good thing. The Daedalus had an entire empty cargo hold reserved for the Atlantis expedition personnel, and who knew when any of them would see a department store again?
The shopping list took a sudden turn into Electronics, with a request for several boxed DVD sets (who knew Radek was a "Wormhole Extreme" fan?), a new iPod (Radek's had been damaged when the then-Major Sheppard set Jumper Two down directly on top of it), and a copy of Halo 2. Recalling the condition of the one PlayStation on Atlantis, Carson wedged a new one into the cart. He snagged an empty cart abandoned in the aisle and deposited another Playstation in it. What the hell - it wasn't like they had anywhere to spend all of the danger pay they were getting. And in Atlantis' "grey market", the extra game box would be worth its weight in naquadah. With that firmly in mind, he picked out a handful of other games he'd heard people talk favorably about. If the Air Force objected, he'd pack them in refrigerated medical cases and label them "vaccines - do not open at room temperature." Straight-laced old biddies. Tell him what he could do in his off hours, would they? Not bloody likely.
After a quick trip into the Sundries section for toothpaste, new toothbrushes, mouthwash, deodorant, two battery-operated razors, and Dove soap (Lord, how he'd missed it!), Carson looked at the bottom of the list. Last but not least, a down comforter. This one was as much for him as for Radek. Atlantis could get downright cold at night. The climate controls were fairly reliable in the occupied areas of the city, but the city did float on the ocean and one open window was enough to make a Scottish lad feel right at home in the cold damp. The military issue wool blankets that they'd all been sleeping under kept you warm enough, but there was nothing like sleeping under a down comforter to convince a body that it was really warm. He found a king-sized one in dark green and stuffed it into the cart.
Pushing one cart and trailing the other, Carson headed for the cash register. The woman smiled happily at him as she started scanning items and bagging them up, laughing a bit and babbling something about Christmas being early. He handed over his credit card and blanched at the announced total. Not that it put much of a dent in his bank account, but the last time he'd spent that much money in one place he'd redecorated his entire apartment in Glasgow. Pasting a sickly grin on his face, he asked the cashier where the nearest grocer's was, and if there was a bookstore in the neighborhood.
Armed with directions to Albertsons and Barnes & Noble, he transferred his purchases into the trunk of the Air Force motor pool sedan. Many of the things he'd bought were small vices in their own way. The military would supply him with toothpaste, and soap, and even underwear. But the government issue soap made his skin itch, the underwear was always too large, and the toothpaste tasted like the back of a refrigerator. When the only luxuries you had were the ones you brought along, they became absolute necessities.
He persuaded an amazed grocer's clerk to part with an entire case of Oreo cookies for Radek, who didn't eat Oreos so much as make love to them. Carson then indulged himself for a while by soaking up the atmosphere in Barnes and Noble. He might be living in the most fantastic place ever discovered by man, but as near as they could tell the Ancients didn't have books. Databases and holograms, yes - these appeared to be quite efficient at transmitting information and entertainment. But Carson loved books, and missed the feel and smell of one in his hand.
He wondered what the company's board of directors would say if he asked them to open a store in the Pegasus galaxy - with the accompanying Starbucks, of course. Laughing silently at himself, he grabbed the last copy in the store of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, then browsed through the fiction section until he had a dozen more books ranging from Eric Flint to Elmore Leonard. This time he didn't so much as bat an eyelash when the clerk announced the total. Books were worth it.
Delightedly laden down with his purchases, Carson walked down the sidewalk, past the other shops in the strip mall, heading back to where he'd parked the car. He dodged a customer exiting from one shop and caught an amazing smell - well-cured leather. Stopping, he saw a leather jacket on a mannequin framed in the window. Immediately, he imagined it on Radek, and his mouth went dry and his cock stirred with interest. Oh yes - Radek in that jacket, with the jeans that he'd just bought and Oh My Yes.
Dyed Air Force blue with sky-blue stripes running down the front and sleeves, the jacket screamed decadence, style, and sex even from the other side of the glass. Entering the shop, the call wailed louder as he inspected the tailoring (solid), size (perfect for his lover), and the price tag (astronomical). But for once, Carson didn't care about the cost. This jacket was heading for the Pegasus Galaxy. Between the jeans and the jacket, Radek in civvies would be a walking invitation to debauchery. Fortunately for his peace of mind, Radek seemed to be a monogamist.
Heading for the car with his books under one arm and a box containing the jacket under the other, he contemplated the next few weeks. He had three days in Glasgow with his mum, and then straight back to Colorado Springs. After that, a frenzy of packing and orientating new personnel would soon give way to the nervous boredom that was travel on the Daedalus. Eighteen days later he would be back in Atlantis - back with Radek, back to the bed he'd become used to sleeping in, back… home?
Was Atlantis home?
His first instinct was no, it's not home. Home was Glasgow - his apartment, his lab, his friends, and his mum. No one trying to kill him. No one hounding him day and night to "just turn this on for us Dr. Beckett." No patching up friends and acquaintances with knife wounds, stunner blasts, bullet holes, or strange diseases. No Wraith.
No one to share the joy of discovery. No one to share the fear of disaster. No one to share that big down comforter with on a chilly night. No one to rub his feet, or his back, or anything else. No one to fill his heart and spirit the way Radek did.
Someday, if they managed to live through it all, perhaps they would come back to Earth and make a home together somewhere - Glasgow, Prague, or wherever they could find work. Maybe fate would take a hand and they would find some small idyllic world that had never heard of the Wraith, or the Goa'uld, or the Tau'ri, and disappear where the SGC and the rest of the military-industrial complex would never find them. He could do country doctoring and Radek could make startling inventions and cunning toys. Neither future seemed more likely than the other, given the fantastic nature of his present.
No, Atlantis might not be home, but it was the closest thing they had together. And together was all that mattered.