Kathie (mistokath13) wrote in sheppard_dex,

Fic: Different But The Same (Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard/Ronon Dex)

Title: Different But The Same
Author: Kathie
Fandom: Stargate:Atlantis
Pairing: John Sheppard/Ronon Dex
Rating: FRAO/NC-17
Word Count: 4,937 words
Warnings: teen!John (no underage sex, John is 18), AU/future fic
Disclaimer: Not my characters, I’m just playing with them
Summary: Ronon gave John a promise ten years ago, and he’s keeping it, only to realize that John always gets his way.
Authors Notes: Written for the rounds_of_kink challenge, May 4th, Prompt: Different but the same, Ronon/John, kink: Teen John. A huge thank you to Ginny for all she’d been doing, including the nitpicking.


The age of consent on Sateda had been fourteen for as long as Ronon could remember, simply because that was the age young Satedans had started their military training.

A lot of time had passed since he’d been that young, Ronon thought darkly as he shrugged into the still unfamiliar Lantean clothing. Twenty-two years – a lifetime, and seven of those years, he’d spent as a Runner, and five more as a member of John Sheppard’s team.

A grimace twisted his face.

Colonel John Sheppard.

It had been ten years, exactly to the day, since he’d seen Shep last, ten years that had brought the containment of the Wraith and Replicators, the birth of Teyla’s youngest three children, and the founding of the Athosian-Satedan Union, an alliance that had organized guerilla-style attacks against the Wraith. Supported by the Lanteans and led by Teyla, the Union was one of the many reasons they’d won the last big fight against the Wraith. Equipped with weapons from Earth and under Ronon’s command, members of the Union had managed to sabotage one of the last Hive ships in Pegasus Galaxy.

And now that the Galaxy was, after millions of years, free again, Ronon had come here, to Earth, to fulfill a promise he’d given to a small, sick, eight-year old boy.

His heart clenched at the memory of John, eyes impossibly huge and face unnaturally pale, the small body fragile and broken in the bed.

It had broken his heart, seeing the sick child, but he’d known that it would be the best if they sent him back to Earth. They were in the middle of a war, ready to evacuate Atlantis, if needed, and Keller was almost certain that John would die if he didn’t get the necessary medical treatment, something they couldn’t offer him in the great city of the Ancients.

They all had understood that. He had, too, but he still had blamed himself for everything that had happened. He was convinced that it had been his fault – if he’d reacted just a split second sooner, what had happened wouldn’t have happened and the course of history would have been another.

Of course, he thought while lacing up his boots, Radek and Rodney had felt the same. It had been them who had discovered and powered up the De-Ager and had activated it, leaving them with a seven-year old John Sheppard who, as another result of the faulty machine, was not going to survive for long. His internal organs had been damaged in the process and would sooner or later start to fail, and there was nothing Keller or any of them could do to stop it from happening.

Ronon straightened and ran a hand through his short hair. He’d cut it only recently, and the lack of weight and mass from his hair still surprised him constantly.

General Lorne had promised him to take care of everything, and so far, Ronon had nothing to complain about. Teyla had, over the course of the years, taught him patience, and he also had grown older and wiser.

He’d already met with Radek, who had brought him up to date on what everyone who had dropped out of the Stargate program was doing, and now, he would meet Rodney, who hopefully would take him to the boy.

John had lost every memory of his life before the accident when it had happened, and the Stargate Command had taken that as a reason to keep him on Earth once the Asgard had healed his young body. They’d given him to foster parents and had forbidden the team to try and contact John.

It hadn’t worked out as they’d planned, of course. Especially Rodney had been furious and had on more than one occasion threatened to find John and kidnap him, either to hide him in Canada or on New-Athos, and it had been two years until Rodney had returned to Earth after a serious injury he’d suffered when trying to kill Michael and save Teyla, at which point the SGC had allowed him to visit John.

Ronon checked himself in the small mirror one last time. He’d been to Earth a few times by now, and he still thought it was a crowded, loud and dangerous planet. He’d never been allowed to see John, and so he’d been happy with letting Teyla doing the diplomatic work and the travel to Earth and back.

But – he’d promised John he’d be back, and even if the SGC had repeatedly told them that John didn’t remember them and was growing up a happy and healthy boy, it didn’t matter.

He had promised John. And now, with a new government and people he knew leading the Stargate Project, he finally had the chance to keep this promise. If John really didn’t recognize him, that would be fine too, albeit a bit disappointing.


Rodney had gained weight, Ronon thought with an amused smile when he met up with his old friend, and the hair he still had was streaked with grey. It looked distinguished, and it didn’t stop him from pulling Rodney into a tight hug and lifting him off his feet, even if Rodney was indignantly squeaking about his bad back and that Ronon would cause serious harm to his precious brain if he dropped him. It had been years since he’d seen Rodney, and he’d missed him, big brain, sharp tongue and whining included.

Well, maybe not so much the whining.

Rodney, of course, knew why he was here. He’d been the only one of them who had been allowed to stay in contact with John, as long as he didn’t tell him anything about the Stargate and his former life, and he’d only been able to stay on Earth because of his injuries, and because he’d pressured the higher ups into it.

“How is he?”

Rodney frowned slightly at the question.

“Good,” he then replied. “A teenager. What do you expect? He calls me Uncle Meredith.”

He frowned in disgust at the nickname, and Ronon chuckled slightly. The John Sheppard he had known would have called Rodney that just to get a rise out of him, and it seemed as if the younger version had the same motivation.

He listened as Rodney talked about John, his good grades, how smart he was, of course, and how both he and Jeannie had been worried about how good John and Madison got along, and again, how smart the kid was, really, while Ronon let his thoughts wander to before, when John was still Colonel Sheppard and older than Ronon, to how they had laughed and fooled around, and even if there had been anything more than a handjob, a blowjob and some mutual masturbation, it still was the most Ronon had done with another human being since the Wraith had captured him.

He didn’t know about John. They’d never talked about it, but of course Ronon knew the rumors and stories, especially told from Rodney’s point of view.

He hadn’t exactly cared. On Sateda, there were two kinds of sexual relationship a man could form: a Warrior’s bond, which was purely physical, and the Heart’s bond, which included a tight emotional connection and most likely ended in a marriage. What he and Sheppard had had was a Warrior’s bond and a good friendship, plus, John had been the one who had saved him from the Wraith and had given him a new home, for which Ronon was deeply grateful.

He let Rodney guide him to an old-looking car and listened in silence as Rodney’s bitching turned to his car, his students – he was teaching physics at a local college, as far as Ronon knew – to his cat and finally back to John. Ronon listened, tossed in an occasional comment and let Rodney’s voice wash over him and soothe him while he folded himself into Rodney’s car.

Rodney was nervous, he realized with a start, and it made him feel a bit better about himself.

“Here we are,” Rodney finally announced and stopped the car. “I’m sure you’ll recognize him when you see him.” He swallowed thickly. “He hasn’t changed much….you know, from before. He’s just younger. Fuzzier.”

Ronon nodded and finally asked the question that had haunted him since he’d decided to come here.

“Does he remember anything?”

Rodney shrugged. “He recognized me immediately,” he replied. “But he was nine by the time these morons let me see him and talk to him. He never said if he remembered anything about the SGC or us, but sometimes…” He shrugged. “Sometimes I think he remembers.”

Ronon nodded and exited the car. Rodney’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel, as if he fought the instinct to follow him, to protect the boy from him, but he didn’t move.

He understood that Ronon needed to do this alone.


Whatever he’d expected, he thought to himself, it hadn’t been this.

John – it obviously was him; Rodney had been right in saying he hadn’t changed that much, he was looking so much like the John they knew it was almost painful – was waiting tables in the small restaurant at the small airport Rodney had driven them to. Everything was small here, Ronon thought, and John was no exception. He was smiling with the few customers there, but Ronon immediately realized that something wasn’t quite right. John had an air of expectation around him, as if he was waiting for something to happen.

“Johnny!” an older man called and pointed toward the table where Ronon had sat down. Ronon grimaced slightly. He knew that Shep didn’t like being called Johnny. The old John hadn’t liked it – it seemed, though, as if this version had no such problems.

Ronon had enough time to watch the kid while John made his way to him. His hair was cut short, but not too short to make it stick up wildly. He did, indeed, look a bit fuzzy, Ronon thought in amusement. Dressed in sneakers, jeans and a black t-shirt, he looked like a normal, if somewhat thin, teenager, who still needed to fill out his body with a lot of muscles.

John’s face, on the other hand, was rounder, smoother, without the lines and weariness in it. The shadow of stubble covered his cheeks, not enough to deserve being called a beard, but definitely there.

John frowned slightly as he came to a stop next to Ronon. “You cut your hair.”

Ronon didn’t reply. He just waited calmly until John shifted from one shoe to the other and said, “I thought you’d forgotten.”

Ronon snorted. “I could never forget you,” he answered simply. “I promised, didn’t I?”

John nodded and looked around. Nobody was paying attention to him, and so he slid onto the chair opposite Ronon and looked at him expectantly.

“How much do you…remember?” Ronon asked carefully.

John ran his fingers though his hair, making it stick up even more. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Not much. I remember…some things. Teyla. How’s Teyla?”

Ronon smiled. “She’s good. She sends her love to you.”

John nodded thoughtfully. “Teyla. I remember that she was the first we met, there. I don’t know where it is, but I know that Teyla was there.”

Ronon chuckled. “She’s still there,” he promised. “Leading her people. She named her youngest son after you and Rodney.”

“She did?” John sounded excited. “Cool.”


John’s shoulders dropped slightly. “I have to go back to work,” he explained. “Will you still be in town tonight?”

Ronon nodded. “Staying with Rodney,” he explained. “You know where he lives?”

“Yeah,” John nodded and stood. “I’ll see you there, then?”

Ronon nodded, and John gave him a small smile before going back to work.


“He’s saving up for flying classes,” Rodney explained while piling stuff on the table. He was still working for the SGC, occasionally, because Lorne and Zelenka had begged him to. He did mostly consulting work, and in exchange for that, he’d been allowed to see John twice a month while the kid was growing up, and take him to visit Jeannie on a few occasions.

“Smart kid. I mean, I took care that he got a good education,” Rodney continued, pride evident in his voice as he stuffed his laptop into his bag. “I need to talk to him anyways. If he still wants them, I’m going to give them to him for his birthday. Even if I think he’s suicidal to want to fly those planes.”

He pulled a face. “Will you be okay alone?”

Ronon nodded and helped him to carry his stuff to the car. “I’ll be fine,” he said. “Besides, the kid will stop by later.”

Rodney rolled his eyes at him and glanced at his watch. “You stay away from my chocolate, don’t feed the cat anything, and while you’re at it, look up ‘statutory rape’,” he said sharply before jumping into his car. Lorne had told him that it was an emergency, and he didn’t have much time to lose before he had to be at the SGC.

Ronon shook his head amusedly. He’d offered Rodney to come with him, but Rodney had said it was unnecessary, and so Ronon wandered back into the house. He knew what statutory rape was, and he’d talked to Teyla about this particular topic before they had parted ways.

He didn’t know why Rodney had reacted so weird to the announcement that John would stop by, but then, Ronon thought while picking up Rodney’s spare laptop, the one Rodney had allowed him to use, he didn’t understand Rodney completely – never had and probably never would.

Rodney never had any games on his computer, but to his great surprise, Ronon found a folder labeled ‘John’ on the hard drive. It was filled with pictures of John, growing up and adult, and Ronon realized that Rodney was so nervous because he was afraid that Ronon would try to take the kid from him. It was more than obvious that the two of them had managed to keep their friendship strong despite everything that had happened, and Rodney valued that friendship more than anything else in his life.

He also found a folder labeled ‘Jennifer’, but before he could take a peak at those pictures, the arrival of John interrupted him, and he quickly powered the laptop down before John could see what he had been doing.

They settled on the couch together, to watch a movie and talk, the way they had done so often, and both Rodney’s movie collection and the way the cat had greeted John told Ronon that the kid spent a lot of his free time with Rodney. It confirmed the suspicions he’d had earlier. Rodney was trying to protect John from him, even if there was no need for that. It was as if the past ten years had never happened as they both slipped back into the familiar banter while watching the movie.

There were things in the kid’s behavior that reminded Ronon almost painfully of adult Sheppard: he had the same boneless sprawl and slow smile, and the same sense of humor. It was like watching John Sheppard through a trick mirror – it was him, and at the same time, it wasn’t. Ronon told himself to be careful – by the time the movie was half over, he’d caught himself three times already as he was running the tips of his fingers along John’s neck, the way he’d always done when he and Shep had watched a movie together.

John shifted slightly and leaned against Ronon’s side. Adult Shep, Ronon thought, had always tried to keep his distance from everyone, even his closest friends. This Shep was more open and trusting.

“I remember this,” John said quietly. “You want to know what else I remember, Ronon?”

Ronon gave him an amused look. “What?” he asked.

John gave him a wide smile that was meant to look confident and moved to straddle Ronon’s hips.

“This,” he said and leaned in, his lips capturing Ronon’s in a soft, innocent kiss.

Ronon’s fingers grabbed John’s hips as he slowly pulled away.

“Rodney warned me about this,” he murmured while his fingers traced random patterns on John’s hips. “I don’t think you should be doing this.”

John’s eyes burned as they bore into Ronon’s. “I’m eighteen,” he pointed out. “Sometimes I feel like I’m fifty or something.”

Ronon closed his eyes. “We still shouldn’t do this,” he said, pain filling his voice. “You…the last time you saw me, you were eight years old.”

“My birthday,” John remembered. “I was…sick.”

Ronon nodded. “You were,” he agreed. “You remember that.”

John mirrored his nod. “That’s not al I remember,” he said, his voice pitched low. “I remember you. It’s…like dreams. They’re not…clear, like memories, but too detailed to be just dreams.”

Ronon chuckled. “You never told Rodney about this,” he half-guessed, half-stated.

“No,” John admitted and shifted slightly on his knees, rubbing himself against Ronon in the process. Ronon could feel his arousal and saw the faint blush covering John’s cheeks. “What was I supposed to say? Uncle Rodney, I dreamed again about blowing Ronon.”

Ronon stared at him. “You what?”

John squirmed slightly. “I dreamed that,” he admitted. “You had…long hair. Dreadlocks. I remember being careful because there always were knives hidden in your hair.”

He reached up and carded his fingers through Ronon’s now short hair. “I want to do that again,” he whispered and blushed harder.

“John,” Ronon moaned quietly. “Don’t…”

John brought their hips together once more and rubbed against Ronon’s dick. The friction was a delicious torture through the layers of clothing separating them, but Ronon still had to bite his lip sharply to get his body under control again. Wisdom and age only brought him so much.

“Please,” John whispered. “I want you to.”

He surged forward, into another kiss, wet and sloppy and unpracticed, like someone who knew the theory of kissing but never had done it before. His fingers tugged at Ronon’s hair impatiently, and Ronon groaned and finally started to kiss him back in earnest.

They stayed like that, kissing on the couch and making out like teenagers, which, in John’s case, was less metaphoric than Ronon wanted to think about.

Finally, John pulled away. He was panting slightly, his cheeks were flushed and his lips swollen and spit-slicked.

“I want you to do it,” he said with a small moan. “Me.”

“What do you want me to do to you?” Ronon asked, his thoughts filled with lust and arousal. His hands were under John’s t-shirt, brushing against the soft, sweaty skin at the small of his back teasingly. They’d never done anything more than blow- and handjobs, and somehow, he doubted that John was talking about that.

“I want you to fuck me,” John said, his jaw set defiantly. For a moment, he looked a bit like Rodney, all stubbornness and defiance, and Ronon laughed helplessly and pulled him into another kiss.

“Rodney is going to kill me,” he muttered, his fingers teasing at the waistband of John’s pants.

“No, he isn’t,” John panted and dropped his forehead to rest against Ronon’s. “Unless we mess up his couch.”

Ronon tightened his grip on John and stood. “Let’s go to bed, then,” he murmured. He waited until John had wrapped arms and legs around him before walking toward the guest room he was staying in.

“Stop,” John murmured. “Let’s go to my room. I have…stuff there.”

Somehow, Ronon wasn’t surprised that John had a room in Rodney’s house. He also wasn’t surprised when John guided him toward a room that was filled with miniature models of planes and had a Johnny Cash poster tacked to one wall.

The room felt so much like John that Ronon didn’t offer any more protest when John wriggled out of his grip and started to unbutton his pants, pulling them down when he fell to his knees. Kneeling before Ronon, he looked up at him with wide, trusting eyes, and Ronon had to swallow at the display of innocence.

“Can I?” John breathed and reached for Ronon’s cock, half-hard already. “Please?”

Ronon knew he should say no. A little voice at the back of his skull that sounded suspiciously like a mixture of Rodney and Teyla screamed at him to say no, but he just nodded mutely and arched his back when John took his cock and experimentally ran his hands over it.

“I remember doing this,” John said, his voice filled with wonder and excitement. “I remember…”

He leaned forward and licked over the tip of Ronon’s flesh. Ronon groaned and tangled his fingers in John’s short, soft hair. He ran his fingertips over John’s face, tracing lines that would stay invisible for several more years, feeling and touching.

John’s tongue curled against his cock and teased him into full hardness before releasing him with a wet sound. “Please?” he begged. “Will you do it?”

“Get up,” Ronon gruffly answered after long heartbeats of silence. He helped John to his feet and kissed him again while letting his hands roam freely under the t-shirt and over the smooth and unscarred chest.

John moaned and pressed into the contact. He lifted his arms and let Ronon strip off the shirt, then his pants. When he was naked, Ronon gave him a gentle push until the back of John’s knees was hitting the edge of the bed and he sat down.

He was still blushing under Ronon’s gaze, but he didn’t back down.

“You got lube?” Ronon finally asked, and John nodded mutely and reached into the drawer of his bedside table. He pulled out a miniature helicopter and a book on theoretical physics before finding the small bottle and a condom.

“Here,” he said while handing them over. “How…” He swallowed. “How do you want me?”

Ronon kneeled down on the bed and ran his fingertips over John’s chest again. “The way you’re most comfortable,” he murmured before bending down and sucking lightly against John’s collarbone. “On your stomach, maybe.”

John nodded and quickly rolled around until he was face down, and spread his legs slightly. “Good?” he asked and shot Ronon a grin over his shoulder, a grin that was so unmistakably John Sheppard that Ronon leaned over him with a growl and kissed him possessively while his fingers slipped down John’s spine and to the swell of his ass.

“You ever did this before?” he asked and fumbled with the lube.

John blushed harder. “No,” he mumbled. “But I’ve read about it!”

Ronon snorted and bent down to press a kiss to John’s shoulder. His skin was soft, and again Ronon marveled at the lack of scars. “And what did you read?” he asked while coating his fingers thoroughly with the clear gel.

John shrugged. “This and that,” he replied. “Please, Ronon.”

He pushed upward, until he was balancing on his knees and elbows, and Ronon had to swallow against the sudden tightness in his throat.

“You’re still a kid,” he muttered, but John only spread his legs wider and gave Ronon a look from slightly narrowed eyes.

“I’m not!” he sharply said. “Are we doing this now or do I need to do it myself?”

Ronon chuckled slightly. He admired John’s bravado, even if he was sure that it was just a front.

“I want you, Ronon,” John moaned. “Been wanting you for forever.”

“Pushy,” Ronon muttered and brushed his slick fingers over John’s upturned ass. “You’ve always been like that.”

John smirked again before letting his head hang down, pushing back against Ronon as he rubbed a single finger over and around his hole and finally let it slip in.

“Okay?” Ronon murmured hoarsely and waited until John nodded and pushed back against the intrusion. Only then did he start to move it gently, establishing a gentle rhythm. His free hand reached in between John’s legs, grasping his cock, and giving it a firm stroke.

John moaned and pushed into his hands. He didn’t seem to notice when one finger became two or even three. He was too caught up in the moment and pleasure Ronon’s fingers were causing.

Ronon took a deep breath. Seeing John like this, rubbing himself against Ronon’s fingers with abandon, only resulted in a higher and almost painful level of arousal.

“Why did you stop?” John asked when he pulled his fingers out and away from John’s body. His voice was high-pitched, rough and breathless, almost the way Ronon remembered it being when John was caught in arousal, and he chuckled and moved to press a kiss to John’s spine.

“You want to come on my fingers?” he asked, “or do you want more?”

John moaned and shuddered. “More,” he requested. “Can I have more?”

Ronon smiled and quickly rolled a condom over his erection. He covered it in lube and shifted until he was kneeling in between John’s widely spread legs.

His fingers brushed over John’s hole, and briefly pushed in before he grabbed John’s hips and rubbed his dick over it.

“You ready?” he asked and rested his cock against the opening to John’s body. Instead of replying verbally, John pushed back against him, and the tip of Ronon slipped easily into John’s body.

“That’s it,” Ronon murmured and reached around John again to close his hand around his cock. “You good?”

“Great,” John managed to gasp out before experimentally pushing back, taking more of Ronon into himself. He hissed slightly at the unfamiliar sensations and stopped moving again.

Ronon bent his head down and kissed John’s shoulder. His beard scratched against pale skin, leaving red marks that probably would start to itch soon, but John didn’t look like he cared at the moment. He was concentrating on the feeling of Ronon breaching him, pushing slowly and gently deeper into his body, until he’d taken all of him into himself.

He took a deep breath and stilled for a few heartbeats, trying to get used to the feelings running through him. Ronon was still kissing and licking his shoulder, and one of his hands was gently playing with John’s cock and balls.

“I’m good,” he gasped and did his best to relax.

“Yes, you are,” Ronon murmured against his shoulder blade, his voice like warm honey, before he pulled out and established a gentle rhythm.

John gasped and gripped the blanket under him in both fists. He’d never before felt something like this. His toes curled in arousal, his cock was hot and heavy between his legs, and Ronon’s broad hand left trails of fire on his back and sides.

The speed picked up, and John moaned and experimentally clenched his muscles around Ronon. Ronon moaned brokenly, his rhythm broken as he took John’s hips in his hands to keep him still and position him the way he wanted.

John bit into the pillow under his face to stifle the sounds from escaping and let Ronon move him until he found an angle that made John see sparks with every powerful thrust against his prostate.

Ronon groaned over him, a broken, almost painful sob, and dug his fingers deeper into John’s skin as he froze, his body convulsing as he reached his orgasm.

John’s breath quickened. His dick was throbbing, but with no direct stimulation, he knew he wouldn’t be able to come. He tried to reach down with his own hand, to give him the relief he so desperately craved, but Ronon was faster.

Slipping from John’s body, he grasped his hip again and helped him to roll to his back. Quickly he covered John’s cock with his mouth and sucked while his fingers returned to play with John’s balls and the sensitive skin behind them.

It didn’t take him long to come with that stimulation. He threw an arm over his face and bit down on it as emotions overwhelmed him, leaving him in a sated and languid state.

He watched as Ronon stood and disposed of the condom before wandering off and eventually returning with a wet towel to clean John up carefully.

“You gonna show me New Athos?” John quietly asked when Ronon pulled the blanket from under him and wrapped him into it. “Take me home?”

Ronon leaned over him and kissed his forehead softly. “One day,” he promised. “I’ll take you home.”

“Good,” John muttered, already half-asleep. “Ronon?”


“Please don’t wait ten years before fulfilling this promise.”

Ronon laughed and smoothed his hand over John’s wild hair.

“I won’t,” he said. “Not if I can help it.”

“Cool,” John said. “I miss home.”

With these words, he fell asleep, curled up in his blanket, and Ronon shook his head amusedly while running his fingers slowly over John’s back.

John Sheppard, he thought, was still the same stubborn man Ronon had met all those years ago. He would find a way to go home, and Ronon would do whatever he could to support him and protect him. He was pretty sure Rodney would too, once he was done ripping Ronon apart for letting John seduce him, and he knew that Teyla would love having John around again, regardless if he was fifty or eighteen. They would all do what they could to bring John home, and Ronon would be the one who would guide young John Sheppard there

They both were different men than they had been ten years ago, he thought and stood to go to his own bed, but some things between them would always stay the same, no matter how old they were.

The End.

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