Word Count: 1,037
Notes: For ginger2209, who bought me in the helpbrazil2011 auction and wanted John/Evan. Here's hoping you like it! :)
Evan tried not to frown at the selection in the mess hall. The food selection in Atlantis would never win any prizes, but if a person arrived outside of proper meal times because, say, their morning had been filled with meeting upon meeting about endless science experiments (“And then it moved!”) or mission proposals (“M0X-433. Why? I have two words for you: glowing lemurs.”> or equipment requisitions (“No, Major, I really do need three hundred bottles of mustard. Why? Well… it’s really probably better if you don’t know.”) or God knows what else, the selection upon arriving in the mess hall was bound to be even worse. Evan sighed at his choices (thin soup with might-be-mushrooms, some sort of noodle dish, that weird yellow fruit from M4L-228 that tasted like lima beans, or some sort of mostly-unidentifiable bread-casserole-thing) and grabbed one of each. With any luck, he’d be able to force enough of each dish down to make it to dinner without his stomach grumbling.
There were six other people in the mess hall; four of them were clearly scientists having a meeting about something, which Evan had had quite enough of today, and the other two were seated together at the far end of the mess hall. From the excessive amount of hand-waving of the one and the sardonic slouching posture of the other, Evan could immediately tell who they were.
“Good afternoon, sir,” Evan greeted as he dropped his tray on the table. “McKay.”
McKay shot him a slightly annoyed look, but John grinned and waved. “Hey, Major. Looks like you caught the tail end of lunch, huh?”
Evan groaned and poked at his bread thing with his fork. “I spent the morning with the science contingents of AR-7 and AR-9.”
John winced. AR-7 accompanied a geologist and a bioengineer; AR-9 had a zoologist and a botanist. Meeting with them monthly was part of Evan’s job description, but it didn’t mean he had to like it.
“That’s – who is that, Williams? And Robertson,” McKay said thoughtfully. “And AR-9, Sauerle and Myers?”
“Yeah,” Evan replied, shoving a little of the bread-thing into his mouth. He took a long sip of water and chewed thoughtfully. He’d had worse.
McKay was looking over at him with an air of sympathy on his face. “And then you get here and that’s all that’s left for lunch,” he summarized, studying Evan’s plate with distaste. “That is wrong on so many levels.”
Evan shrugged. “It is what it is, McKay. I’ll live.”
“Well,” McKay said, standing, “don’t say I never did anything nice for you.” He thunked down a bowl of Jell-o before moving quickly to empty his tray and leave the mess hall.
Evan stared at the bowl for a minute before John’s voice broke into his thoughts. “I have never seen him share Jell-o before. Never. Not once. Not even when he broke Teyla’s arm.”
“Jealous?” Evan grinned, tapping John’s foot with his boot beneath the table. He grabbed the cup and his spoon, taking a small bit of the treat and sucking it into his mouth. He grinned as John tracked the movement with his eyes. “God, I love the red one.”
“Yeah,” John said in a slightly strangled voice. “Cherry. Or strawberry. Either way, it’s great.”
Evan took another bite, then another, watching John watch him. It was kind of amusing, how John’s eyes would track the spoon down into the bowl, up towards Evan’s face, into his mouth, down again. After a couple of minutes of it, Evan set the spoon down on the tray, smirking when John snapped his eyes up.
“What I can’t figure out,” Evan said, lowering his voice as he glanced around them, “is whether you’re fascinated with the way I’m eating or if you just really, really want my Jell-o.”
“Bit of both,” John admitted freely with a crooked smile. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thinking about tasting that Jell-o right off of your lips.”
“Now there’s an idea,” Evan murmured, smirking as John’s eyes widened fractionally. He lifted the spoon slowly, scooping a little bit of the Jell-o up and making a show of slipping the spoon into his mouth. He dragged his teeth along the spoon as he pulled it out of his mouth, and watched John visibly swallow.
Evan hid a smile. It was almost too easy.
John stood smoothly, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “Major, when you’re done with your lunch, we need to talk about some of the staff rotations for the next few weeks,” he said, loudly enough to carry to the other table without yelling. Evan nodded seriously and took another bite of Jell-o with the same slow, deliberate movements.
“I’ll just come with you now,” he said innocently after swallowing. He grabbed the rest of the Jell-o and the spoon as he stood, picking up the tray with his other hand. “I wanted to talk to you about AR-4’s offworld roster – ever since Dr. Virtesh transferred back Earthside, they’ve been kind of struggling to find someone to fill their fourth spot.”
“Right,” John replied, and Evan had to give him credit; if he didn’t know better, even Evan would be fooled into thinking that John was just carrying on a normal conversation with his second-in-command. “Who are they looking at?”
“They have a few candidates,” Evan said as they walked to the transporter. “Dr. Seimon from linguistics is interested, and I know Lieutenant Vogel would love to have Dr. Paparella-”
As soon as the doors slid shut, John jabbed at the East Pier landing and grabbed Evan. One hand wrapped around the hand holding the Jell-o, and the other snaked its way around Evan’s waist. Evan laughed as the transporter flashed and deposited them at the doorway to the East Pier.
John dragged him out of the transporter, walked him three steps sideways until his back was against the nearest wall, and leaned in to kiss him long and slow. John’s tongue swept across Evan’s lips lightly a few times before delving into his mouth. He pulled back after a long minute, resting his head against Evan’s.
“Cherry,” John said with satisfaction, smiling when Evan laughed.