Courtship Ritual 1

Courtship Ritual

by Kylie Lee

URL: http://www.area52hkh.net/ask/klee/critual01.php
Summary: Is Halling flirting with Beckett, or is he just really, really nice?

"Oh, they're not so bad," Carson Beckett said loudly to Rodney McKay. They had to shout to be heard over the music.

"I'm trapped in the Pegasus galaxy with a bunch of Americans," McKay groused, warming to his theme as he picked up a kebob. An impromptu party had sprung up in the Gate room. They'd made it to a new and different galaxy, and they hadn't all died when the base had started springing leaks. It seemed cause enough to celebrate. He eyed his food. "What are these?"

"Something the Athosian women cooked up, I believe," Beckett said. "They're not bad. And I'm not American."

"Yeah, I noticed." McKay took a tentative bite. "At least they expect you to talk funny. They're everywhere," he said, mouth full, gesturing with his kebab. "Americans. Absolutely everywhere."

Beckett wisely didn't point out that McKay had worked for the past couple of years for the American government. He still hadn't been able to figure out how McKay had gotten his sterling security clearance: he was a nonnational, and he didn't seem like the kind of man who could keep his mouth shut. Maybe McKay really was, as he claimed, brilliant beyond compare. No doubt the American government had been forced to give him security access.

They stood and nibbled for a minute or two, just watching and listening. Their new friends, the Athosians, took to the unfamiliar music like fish to a bicycle, dancing with a flailing enthusiasm that the doctor in Beckett found alarming. He hoped none of them would end up with back strain. He could pick out some Athosians he'd started to know pretty well: Halling, who seemed like a natural leader, although he eschewed the role; Anika, an elderly woman who knew her herbal lore; and Fray, an adolescent boy just starting to grow up who seemed interested in learning to be a doctor. His eyes followed Halling, who was getting around well on crutches. He'd been injured in battle. Beckett had set his ankle.

"Look at that." Beckett indicated a direction with his head. McKay peered up, still eating. Teyla Emmagan had taken John Sheppard's head in her hands. She leaned up, and they stood there, foreheads touching, in the Athosian gesture of respect and affection. But was it Beckett's imagination, or were they holding it a tad longer than necessary for politeness? He sighed. Sheppard was looking particularly good tonight. "How come I never make friends like that?"

"You need to get out more," McKay opined, clearly thinking he meant Emmagan, not Sheppard. Beckett didn't correct him.

"We're in another galaxy. How much more out can you get?"

McKay looked suspiciously at his kebab. "Is that lemons?" he demanded. Before Beckett could respond, McKay hurried off, no doubt to check the ingredient list with the Athosians.

Although it was getting late, Beckett didn't feel like turning in. He thought about asking someone to dance. He couldn't ask Sheppard, obviously, but there was that pretty Marine. Or maybe he'd ask Emmagan. She didn't understand their music, but she certainly seemed to like it. She was also very friendly. But first, maybe he'd have another kebab. He turned to head to the food table and barely avoided colliding with Halling.

"Excuse me," the tall Athosian said, grabbing Beckett's shoulder with a hand, as if to steady them both, and nearly dropping a crutch. "Carson Beckett!" Halling still called Beckett by both names, for all that Beckett had tried to get Halling to stick with "Carson." "It is good to see you, as always." He sounded pleased to see Beckett. The man had always been friendly and kind to him. "Jinto and I are to come see you tomorrow, at Elizabeth Weir's request." Jinto was his son. Beckett was unclear on what had happened to Jinto's mother, but because she didn't seem to exist, he assumed she had been killed in a Wraith attack.

"Ah, yes, the physicals," Beckett said. "I'm looking forward to meeting everybody."

"What do these physicals entail?" Halling asked. "There have been many questions, because no one is ill."

"Some poking and prodding. Nothing serious. Routine, really."

Halling sounded dubious. "Poking and prodding?"

Beckett thought he'd better be more specific, even though Halling had undergone most of the procedures when Beckett had treated him. The most serious had been the broken ankle, but Halling had also suffered cuts and bruises. "I'll listen to your heart and lungs, take your temperature, look in your ears, take blood and urine samples, and x-ray you."

"X-ray?"

"Take an image of your bones. Like you had done to your ankle before I set it."

Halling frowned. "The technician said it was a radiograph."

"Yes, they're the same thing." Beckett indicated the crutch. "How is the ankle, by the way?"

"Much better, thank you." Halling smiled, but despite the opening for complaint, he didn't go on. Halling had been on his feet for the last hour or so at the party, but he didn't seem fatigued. He favored his bad leg, of course, but he'd also declined anything stronger than aspirin for the pain when he learned that sleepiness was a side effect of stronger pain medication.

Before the silence could turn awkward, Beckett said, "I'd also love to talk to Athosian doctors, of course. I don't imagine I will be taking over your medical care. I'll want to coordinate with your doctors and with Anika, make sure nothing I do will harm you. The physicals are really a chance for me to get baseline records on everybody. Doctor Weir wants them for comparison purposes." Although he didn't mention it, Weir had particularly directed him to take blood samples, so he could run the test for the gene that allowed its carrier to work the Ancients' technology.

Halling nodded understandingly. He'd undone his hair for the party, or it had come undone while he danced. He'd braided a few thin segments, which were tied off with red thread, a style the few other men with long hair wore. He rather looked, Beckett thought, like a character in some epic sword-and-sorcery movie. All he needed was a sword instead of his crutches and a fake British accent to go with his striking height and handsomeness. "It is most kind of Doctor Weir to allow us to come here," Halling said diplomatically.

"I saw you two dancing earlier," Beckett said. They had really been swaying more than actually dancing. He thought, a little enviously, that they made a great couple, although he recalled that Doctor Weir had a boyfriend, or a husband, or something. Then Weir had been nabbed by Zelenka.

"She was kind enough to ask me," Halling said. "But now I ask you." He looked at Beckett expectantly, just as the music slowed.

"Ah," Beckett said, wishing he could say yes. The two glasses of wine he'd had were percolating nicely, and he could think of nothing he'd rather do than sway to the music with someone handsome and available. But it probably wasn't a good idea. Sure, the fact that Halling always made it a point to be very pleased to see him had put ideas into Beckett's head, ideas he'd worked to quash while treating Halling, but on the other hand, Halling had a son, and that meant he'd had a pretty serious relationship with a woman. Beckett was sure that Halling, by inviting him to dance, was being not only friendly but politic. He doubted romance had crossed Halling's mind. Halling was simply too direct. "Um--"

Halling said, "When I asked John Sheppard to dance, he said no. But Elizabeth Weir danced with me."

"It's cultural," Beckett said, wondering whether he should be offended that he came after John Sheppard on anyone's dance card. Halling was probably going down the list in order of perceived rank. "Men dance with women. It's like a...like a courtship ritual. Or it can be," he added hastily.

"I did not know this," Halling said. "So it's inappropriate for us to dance?"

"Well, yes," Beckett said. "I mean, no, but not right now, because the music is slow. We could dance, just the two of us, if it were fast." As he spoke, he realized how stupid it sounded. Because the military had such a large presence on this mission, about three-quarters of the personnel were men. But still, he didn't see Earth men slow-dancing in pairs. Instead, they aggregated in groups and swayed exaggeratedly, playing it for a laugh. Now that he looked, though, he could see two or three pairs of Athosian men dancing. He wasn't surprised to note that most of the young, pretty Athosian women were dancing with soldiers.

"I have much to learn about your people," Halling said, just as Jinto ran up. "There you are!" Halling sounded so happy to see Jinto that Beckett had to smile. Halling leaned down. "I was just asking Doctor Beckett to dance with me." Halling shot a sly sideways glance at Beckett. "Can you join us? Perhaps you can convince him to say yes."

Jinto picked up on this immediately. "Yes, come dance!" He grabbed Beckett's hand and tugged.

Beckett looked back at Halling. He felt bad at declining Halling's offer. It seemed narrow-minded of Beckett to insist on following some cultural protocol that Halling didn't understand, all so Beckett could avoid being heckled by McKay later. But Jinto could be his way out, because Jinto made three. "Dancing with children is always appropriate. Come on--all of us. Here, Jinto, follow your da." Beckett steered them onto the dance floor, Halling first, one hand on Jinto's shoulder, the other, intimately, in the small of Halling's back. He could feel Halling's back flex as he used his crutches.

"The music is too slow," Jinto said, disappointed.

"Maybe it will calm you down," Halling said. "Jinto, can you take my crutches? Are they too tall for you to hold? Here, then. Thank you."

Halling put one arm around Beckett's waist and the other around Jinto's shoulders, and the three of them swayed to a diva's overwrought warbling. He was aware of Halling's height, the flash of his teeth as he smiled, and the movement of Halling's body as they danced. He was also aware when Halling felt his balance was off, because he squeezed Beckett's side until he regained his footing. He did surprisingly well on one leg, and it helped that they didn't move much as they danced. Their hips bumped, and once, Halling trod heavily on Beckett's toe when someone ran into them and Halling lost his balance. Halling gave him a little squeeze of apology--a squeeze, Beckett noticed, very different from the one that meant Halling felt like he was tipping sideways.

Beckett was too self-conscious to really enjoy Halling's proximity, but still, he was sorry when the next song was a fast one--something, he thought, by the Pogues. He assumed that Halling, with his bad leg, couldn't possibly dance to such quick music. But instead, Halling hopped. Jinto caught on right away, and Beckett found himself following suit. They attracted a few other people, then more, and more, until a long line of people snaked along the dance floor, laughing and hopping. When the music ended, Beckett's and Halling's arms stayed around each other while everyone else whooped and clapped. It looked like Beckett was holding Halling up, but Beckett knew better: Halling was perfectly balanced. Halling, smiling, looked down at him. Beckett felt the long, lean line of Halling's body, hot and sweaty next to his. Halling touched the nape of Beckett's neck, then slid it down to below Beckett's waistline, perilously close to his ass, his light touch tracing Beckett's spine. Then a new song started, Halling reached for his crutches, and it was time to grab Jinto's hands and hop around the dance floor some more, just the two of them.

Beckett remembered that long hold when he finally went to bed in the wee hours of the morning. He'd danced with Halling for maybe an hour, in groups, with and without Jinto, and the crutches had ended up by the side of the dance floor. He knew he shouldn't read anything into it, but he'd enjoyed the attention, the pull of attraction, the warmth of desire. He liked Halling as a person, separate from his attraction to him. He couldn't help but relive that look, that swipe of the hand down his back in what certainly had felt to Beckett like an overt caress, even as he felt he was reading into it.

What he needed, Beckett thought as he drifted off to sleep, was a way to communicate his desire for romance with Halling without scaring him off. Normally, Beckett would view the kinds of signals Halling had been sending as expressions of interest, but Halling was from a different culture. If Athosian men slow-danced together just because they felt like it, as indeed they had, maybe they also just happened to touch each other a lot. Beckett found it impossible to think of Halling as capable of flirting, or as having any kind of guile. If it came down to it, he suspected Halling of being too serious and straight-laced to experience feelings of romantic interest, never mind flirting. If only Halling weren't so...friendly. Surely all the touching, the smiling, the asking to dance were all completely innocent expressions of friendship and regard. After all, Halling had asked a lot of people to dance--but once he'd reached Beckett, they'd spent hours in each other's company.

Beckett sighed. He should have signaled his interest, but he'd been afraid of being so overt that someone would notice. Still, it was going to have to be up to Beckett to take the lead.

He fell asleep before he could craft a foolproof seduction plan, only to abruptly wake up what seemed like five minutes later. He tried to look at his clock, but he knocked it over instead. He stared into the blackness, and a few seconds later, he figured out what had woken him up: someone was knocking, and fairly quietly at that. He crawled out of bed, tripped over his shoes, and finally made it to the door.

"I'm awake," he said, opening it. Even the pale light in the hallway blinded him. "Is someone ill?" He blinked, and his eyes focused. "Oh, Halling. I was just--" He cut off abruptly, before he could finish the rest of his sentence: "I was just thinking about you." "Um, asleep. I was just asleep. Sorry. Come in. Is Jinto all right?"

"He's fine," Halling assured him, stepping over the threshold. He was leaning heavily into his crutches. He was probably exhausted from all that dancing on his bad leg. "I had to wait until he was asleep."

"Oh," Beckett said, as if what Halling had just said made sense. "Good. That's--good." He shut the door. "Shall I just--?" he said, reaching for the light. He kept it low.

"I'm sorry I woke you," Halling said after a moment of silence.

"It's all right," Beckett assured him, suddenly aware that his heart was pounding. "Is everything all right? Your leg? Did you need something stronger for the pain?" Even as he said it, he mentally kicked himself. He hadn't expected Halling to show up at his door, and how he was playing doctor. Thinking about how to express interest to Halling and actually doing it were two different things. He needed more time to figure out his approach, his strategy.

"My leg is fine," Halling said. "A little sore, but the cast you put on it keeps it stable." He tugged at his shirt. It dawned on Beckett that Halling was nervous. "I just--I wondered if you would like to dance with me."

Beckett blinked. Halling looked completely serious. "Right now?"

"Perhaps you could show me how your people dance."

It really was too much. Halling couldn't just come to someone's bedroom in the middle of the night and ask him to dance. One would get the wrong idea. One would think all kinds of inappropriate things, things having to do with nudity, or Halling's hair and what it felt like against the skin, or what his neck would feel like to the tongue--things like that.

"Halling--" Beckett started, pulling his mind back. Halling was from another culture. Maybe they were talking at cross-purposes.

Halling leaned his crutches against a chair and took Beckett's hands, and Beckett immediately shut up. "You'll have to forgive me," Halling said. "It's been a long while since my wife died, and I have forgotten much. I thought I had given up dancing forever. But now I find that I hope this is not so."

Beckett looked down at their hands, then up at Halling, as it sunk in. He was being propositioned--incredibly politely, but propositioned nonetheless. And here he'd been convinced that Halling was utterly clueless. Could it really be that with his dance invitation at the party, with that long, slow caress of his back, Halling had been expressing his interest?

"Maybe..." Beckett cleared his throat. His hands rested lightly in Halling's. "Maybe you should show me how Athosians dance."

"It can be very formal," Halling said. "I prefer your style of dancing."

"We do rather make it up as we go along," Beckett said. Beckett felt he had to warn Halling, to make him understand that a sexual relationship between men would be frowned on, even if Beckett wasn't military. "But in my culture, two men dancing in--in private is--is considered--um..."

"Inappropriate?"

Beckett seized on the word, the same one Halling had used when Beckett had declined Halling's dance offer. "Inappropriate. Yes."

"I have found that much impropriety is forgiven if discretion is involved," Halling said. "Here." He put Beckett's hands on his shoulders and stepped close. "This is how your people did it. There is no music," he apologized. "So I will hum."

Beckett let Halling draw him to his chest. His arms slid around Halling's neck just as Halling put his arms around him. He felt Halling's chest expand as he took a breath, and then Halling began humming. They swayed together, their feet barely moving. Beckett found that Halling wasn't really all that much taller than him--he only had to look up a little bit. He relaxed after a few minutes, when Halling's hands stayed decorously on his waist.

"That's pretty," Beckett ventured. "Is it an Athosian song?"

"I suppose so," Halling said. "I just made it up."

Beckett looked up at Halling. He knew what he wanted, but he had to make sure Halling wanted it too. "Halling, tell me what you're offering. I don't want to misunderstand you."

"I offer you what you will take." They'd stopped swaying. "If you want me to go, I will go. Do you want me to go?"

"No." Beckett couldn't look away from Halling's intent eyes.

"If you want only a single dance, then one dance it is. I will take what I can. But I hope that it is a...what did you call it? A courtship ritual. A start of something." Halling took Beckett's head in his hands. "Carson," Halling whispered, and placed his forehead against Beckett's, a gesture he'd made with Beckett before but that now seemed to mean something utterly different.

Beckett buried his hands in Halling's hair, enjoying its heaviness, its coarseness. He felt Halling step even closer. Their noses brushed as Halling tilted his head, and his lips brushed Beckett's, his beard scratching Beckett's face pleasantly. The kiss grew seamlessly out of that touch. It started out tentative but quickly deepened, until Beckett had to hold onto Halling's head, Halling's hair, to keep his feet, because his body wanted to melt into Halling's. Halling's hands wandered, stroking his back and waist. They finally rested in Beckett's ass, and Halling pulled Beckett into him, so the hardness of their groins rubbed together as their mouths played.

"Come to bed," Beckett said, because neither of them wanted to turn back.

He helped Halling to his bed. His fingers fumbled with the tightly knotted leather tie at Halling's waist, and Halling had to help him, but his shirt was easily removed. Halling watched Beckett take his pajamas off and drop them to the floor by Halling's clothes, then shifted to one side so Beckett could lie next to him.

"Here," Halling said, putting Beckett's hand on his penis. It was hot. "Touch me here."

Beckett clasped it and gently stroked, feeling the foreskin slide over the hardness underneath. He felt tight with anticipation and arousal. There was so much to learn about Halling and his body. He'd seen it when he'd examined Halling, but then, he'd been looking and touching as a doctor. Now, he looked and touched as a man. His own excitement grew as he kissed and stroked Halling's body, admiring the coarse body hair that shaded down and culminated in the pubic hair that framed his large, erect cock and his balls. Touching Halling made his own cock throb, just as it made Halling moan and reach out to him.

He had thought that making love with Halling would be like their dance, slow and sensuous and full of warmth, and he was right. They took their time, but eventually, slow segued into fast and gentle turned into desperate, until both were sweating and gasping and needy. Halling pulled Beckett into his side and took both their throbbing cocks into his hand. He put his mouth on Beckett's, and the need turned into molten ecstasy as he stroked them to completion.

"Our people are not so different," Halling said after a while, trailing a finger through the wetness on Beckett's stomach and chest. "Teyla was right."

Beckett smiled. They explored each other's bodies openly now, frankly curious. "I noticed these when I examined you, when I set your ankle." He touched a white scar on Halling's side, then found another.

"The Wraith. I was lucky to escape with my life. It is a very exciting story."

"You'll have to tell me about it sometime." Beckett stroked the ridge of a particularly ugly, puckered scar. "What about this one? It didn't heal properly. It must have gotten infected. Another exciting story?"

"A story I don't often tell," Halling said. "That is a remembrance of my wife's death."

"I'm sorry," Beckett said immediately. Beckett could feel ropy muscle under Halling's skin, implying latent power. It seemed out of character for someone so gentle, but Beckett had the feeling that Halling was full of surprises. After all, he had seen battle more than once. Maybe the biggest surprise was that after seeing battle, after seeing the Wraith kill his family and friends, Halling retained that core of kindness.

"It was long ago." Halling interlaced their fingers. "But only now do I feel like being with another. I thought you were interested, and then I thought you were not, and then I thought you were again. I thought perhaps you thought of me as your patient, that your touch meant only you wanted to help, when it meant so much more to me. I could not tell, so I came to you tonight to ask." He smiled. "And now I have my answer."

"I thought you were simply friendly," Beckett confessed. "I thought I'd shock you with what I wanted. So I'm very glad you came to see me."

"Teyla advised me to be direct."

Beckett blinked. "Teyla?"

"She always has good advice," Halling said. "Besides, I had to tell someone where I was, in case something should happen to Jinto."

"Ah," Beckett said. He hadn't realized that Halling had had a mission, or had made child care plans, or had thought enough of Beckett to ask Emmagan for her help. He hadn't realized that something he'd thought was between the two of them was in fact among the three of them.

"Don't worry," Halling said, misinterpreting Beckett's noncommittal remark. "She approves. She likes you."

"I--um--good," Beckett said. He wasn't usually at such a loss for words. He covered his confusion by kissing Halling's shoulder, which led to his trailing his lips down Halling's chest. He spent some time on Halling's nipple, because it made Halling make pleasant noises, and because he liked to feel Halling's flesh rising under his tongue. "I think we should dance again." He rolled to his knees and knelt between Halling's legs. "I believe it's my turn to hum. But unlike you, I can't make up songs."

"Something from Earth, then?" Halling asked.

"Something from Scotland," Beckett corrected. "A song about a boat on the water, and a king returning to his land to claim the throne."

"Very appropriate." Halling nodded. "Very symbolic."

"Yes, I thought so."

Beckett kissed Halling's flat stomach and tasted Halling mixed with himself. They had all night, and Beckett intended to make good use of the time. He pressed his mouth against Halling's skin and began to hum.

Next: Pulling Back