Unbeknownst to Rodney, there were really a lot of days that could have featured John and Rodney's first kiss.
The first day they met was actually almost the first time they kissed. John sat down in the chair, and it was- it was like nothing else. It was like it knew him, the way it brushed across the back of his senses, the way he could almost hear welcome home in the hard blue light if he concentrated hard enough.
John doesn't open Folsom Prison on Mondays and Tuesdays, a side-effect of a youth spent marching to his father's nine-to-five six days a week drum. Most of his business comes in on Friday and Saturday, anyway, and Sundays after teenagers and middle-aged men like John escape from church to come look at vintage Gibson acoustics and Strats. Walking past it on the way from his apartment to Atlantis makes him smile and shudder a little in relief; he loves his store, but sometimes needs freedom from it.
"And at their annual festival, the Inupiaq release the bladders of their prey through a hole in the ice into the ocean. Then the animals' souls can return to the wild and be reborn,รข Fraser explained.
"Bladders." Ray grinned at him in the flickering firelight. "You got me. I can't top that."
"Oh surely, Ray," Fraser said in that serious way that meant he was teasing. "Growing up in a thriving metropolis such as Chicago, you must know a wealth of interesting customs and traditions."
Tony hovers in the dark, a hundred feet off the ground, watching a girl stand in the wreckage of the arc reactor. She doesn't move; after a while, tired of the view of the back of her head, he twitches his left palm and drifts slowly to a position that gives him a look at her face.
The man in the sombrero reminds Fraser of his English teacher in Inuvik, Miss Hartford. Possibly it's his haughty bearing, so at odds with his short stature, or perhaps it's his gold tooth. Fraser really can't say, but he is fairly certain that Miss Hartford never attempted to hold her own associates hostage. Though, to be fair, Miss Hartford's associates were usually Shakespeare and Wordsworth and Eliot, all deceased.
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