Title: Not Quite Like Cash
Author: Settiai
Disclaimer: "Stargate Atlantis" and other related characters belong to their copyright holders. No infringement is intended. This story, such as it is, was written as a sign of respect and love for the characters, the series, and their creator. I claim no ownership of the aforementioned series and characters.
Rating: PG
Summary: He felt that he deserved a break.
Feedback: Comments and helpful criticisms are always appreciated.
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As the door to his quarters slid shut behind him, John Sheppard felt his tiredness from just minutes earlier fade away to be replaced by anticipation. Even though their last mission had been peaceful, not to mention fairly profitable, it had eventually began trying his patience. After three days of haggling with merchants, walking back and forth through what seemed like the biggest flea market in the universe, and trying to keep Rodney McKay from getting himself killed by irate vendors who didn't approve of his "I want this, so hand it over" attitude, John felt that he deserved a break.
With a grin, the major dropped down onto his bed and carefully began unwrapping his one personal purchase. It had caught his eye just a few hours before they had left, and he'd been more than willing to help the poor girl running the booth get everything set up for the day in return for his prize ... plus a small thank you kiss that he probably wouldn't hear the end of anytime soon. He definitely wouldn't mind a return trip to M7R-421, or—as Lieutenant Ford had dubbed it—the Mall Planet of the Pegasus Galaxy.
He really needed to keep the kid from naming things.
All in all, the simple trading mission had been a nice change of peace from the usual. Teyla had promised that the planet's marketplace thrived during set times of the year, and John had to admit that she hadn't been exaggerating. They'd found several new trading partners, and even McKay had been pleased to find a few crystals for sale that he was fairly certain once belonged to the Ancients.
Elizabeth had been delighted at their success, though she'd definitely raised her eyebrow at the distinctively shaped package he'd been carrying. Actually, come to think of it, she hadn't been the only one. There'd been several amused looks when his team had first came through the 'gate, and he was fairly certain that he'd seen a little money changing hands between Grodin and Zelenka ... although, admittedly, that was probably because his team had managed to go through an entire mission without anyone getting shot, stabbed, maimed, or otherwise injured rather than anything to do with what he'd bought.
Of course, none of that really matted at the moment. "Let's see if this baby plays as well as it did back in the marketplace," he said with a grin.
He carefully ran his hands over the instrument now resting in his lap, his smile growing at the familiar weight. It wasn't quite like a guitar from back home: the shape was slightly off, the wood not quite as smooth, the strings made of some material that felt odd under his fingers, the sound a little deeper. It was close enough for him, though.
John plucked at the strings, his eyes lighting up as a mostly familiar sound filled the room. It might not technically be a guitar, but it would do. He didn't play anything specific for several minutes, instead just letting his fingers get used to having an instrument under them again. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't really played in years ... and it showed.
After several minutes, his fingers at least seemed to vaguely remember what to do. He thought for a minute before attempting to play the first chord of "Ring of Fire."
Considering how badly it burned, burned, burned, he decided that it had been an apt song choice.
"Let's try something else," he muttered.
John thought for a second before attempting to make something that at least resembled the opening "Tennessee Flat-Top Box" come from the stringed instrument he was holding. He succeeded ... almost. In fact, he was fairly certain that he'd at least get the first couple of notes right after another try or two. Or possibly ten.
That's when he noticed the light knocking coming from the other side of the door.
With a sigh, John sent a mental command to the door. It slid open, revealing an amused-looking Aiden Ford standing on the other side. "Playing some music, sir?" he asked, an misleading innocent tone in his voice.
"I was just ... practicing," John said quickly.
Aiden grinned. "I could tell, sir."
When the major merely raised an eyebrow, the younger man shook his head before leaning back against the wall. "Apparently the quarters aren't soundproof," he explained.
John's eyebrow rose a little higher. "Since when?" he asked. "McKay's blown stuff up in his, and people standing right outside haven't even noticed. And I know for a fact that some of the marines have been ... entertaining various scientists of the female persuasion without any kind of noise problem."
Aiden just shrugged. "Maybe you can turn the soundproofing thing on and off if you have the gene?" he guessed.
"Great," John muttered. "So I've apparently turned it off. The question is: can I turn it back on?"
"You could ask Doctor McKay," Aiden said, grinning.
John rolled his eyes. "Did you need something, Ford?" he asked.
The younger man grinned. "I just wanted to see how you were enjoying your new toy," he explained, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "And I curious about how your playing would sound."
The major let out an exasperated sigh. "It's been awhile since I've played," he protested. "Plus I've got to get used to an alien guitar. It's not entirely my fault that I sound a little, well..."
"Not quite like Cash," Aiden suggested helpfully.
John nodded. "Not quite like Cash." He paused mid-nod, a startled look on his face. "You recognized music by Johnny Cash?"
"Sorta," the lieutenant said with a sheepish grin. "My grandmother used to love that song. She liked Roseanne Cash's version more, though."
The colonel studied his face for a moment. "You play the guitar," he said suddenly, his eyes lighting up. "I'm right, aren't I?"
After a few seconds, Aiden shrugged. "A little," he admitted. "I haven't played since I was in high school, though. I'm not sure if I even remember what to do."
John just grinned as he handed the instrument over to him. "It's just like riding a bike," he said. "How about you practice a little, let me see what you've got?"
Although there was a reluctant look on his face, Aiden took the instrument from John and plucked at the strings for a second. Then, without warning, he suddenly started playing the exact same song the major had been working on just a few minutes earlier.
It was a lot more recognizable than when John had been playing it.
Aiden apparently realized that fairly quickly, and he stopped playing after just a few seconds. "I really only stopped by for a second," he said quickly. "Maybe I should just go ahead and..."
"Oh no, you're not going anywhere," John protested, cutting the younger man off mid-sentence as he grabbed the pseudo-guitar from Aiden. "You're going to sit right here and show me exactly how you just did that, lieutenant."
He started to protest, but the look that the major was sending him cut off any objections he might have. "Whatever you say, sir."
"Now you're starting to get it," John said, his mouth twisting into a grin. "And it's not like I'm not willing to pay. There's a possibility that I know where McKay's been hiding the last of the coffee."
Aiden's head snapped up. "There's coffee left? From Earth?"
"From Earth," the major said, nodding. "Do we have a deal?"
The younger man just grinned.