Ficlet: Cat on a Hot Tin Jumper (SGA, G)
Jul. 28th, 2006 12:09 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stillaneHere lies the first of the prompt responses. docmichelle asked for John, Rodney, and kitten sneezes. I bow happily to such devious devices.
Fandom: SGA
Pairing: John/Rodney
Rating: G
docmichelle asked for John, Rodney, and kitten sneezes. I bow happily to such devious devices.Fandom: SGA
Pairing: John/Rodney
Rating: G
Cat on a Hot Tin Jumper
It wouldn’t be funny on anyone else.
Okay, it would, but not nearly as funny.
It was just that they were such very quiet sounds for such a very not-quiet guy. The fact that Rodney’d recently had a haircut didn’t help. Every sneeze brought his shoulders up around his ears and scrunched his face around his nose. He looked like a hedgehog.
For obvious reasons, John’s team wasn’t keeping their planned mission schedule. Lorne’s group would be stepping in for their trip to M3X-294, hopefully to trade for a mineral that pretended to be naquadria in most tests, and yet weighed considerably less.
John had been watching Rodney try unsuccessfully to direct his replacement for the past half hour. (The walkways around the gateroom were convenient that way.) John could have been a nice guy and translated, given that long-term exposure had taught him Rodneyspeak.
Nice guys didn’t have nearly this much fun.
It had taken most of a day to figure it out. On M3X-957, Rodney had stubbed his toe while taking readings and grumbled about it accordingly. John had told him it was his own damn fault and to try looking up now and then. They’d just gotten to the entertaining stage of play-insults when the local welcoming committee had dusted them both with the “Powder of Peace”. John had immediately flashed to thoughts of scary hallucinogenics and scarier drug-induced comas. When a minute passed and all they got was sneezing, it seemed like a lucky enough break.
It was when they didn’t stop sneezing that John started worrying again.
Four hours, nine diagnostics, two showers, and one very important conversation with a smiling village elder later, John was back to seeing the humor in it. Apparently, the powder was used to make peace between warring nations and feuding spouses. It keyed in to the recipient’s blood pressure, and induced the sneezing whenever the levels got too high.
Alien anger management training. Carson thought it would wear off in under a week, as soon as the drug worked its way through the bloodstream. John had lain off the morning runs and put the team on standby, and hadn’t sneezed once since the diagnosis. Rodney glared at him. Often.
The angrier Rodney got, the more he sneezed.
He was sneezing a lot, just now.
John snickered as a snarl dissolved into the sound of a kitten with the sniffles. An answering chuckle came from his right. A look showed him Ronon leaning over the balcony a few feet away. That John hadn’t heard him approach was par for the course.
“It’s kinda cute.”
John nodded and grinned maniacally. “I know.”
“Are you gonna tell him it’s cute?”
“Nope.”
“Can I tell him it’s cute?”
“You weren’t here when he built the nuclear bomb.”
Ronon did that rolling shrug which said, eloquently, Huh.
A general shuffling below caught his attention. Rodney had apparently decided they were as educated as they were going to get.
“Gotta go.”
Ronon nodded and gave a half-wave.
John walked at a very careful pace back to his quarters, and beat Rodney there with just enough time to be leaning calmly against his headboard, book in hand. A calculatedly dry look from under a raised eyebrow showed him Rodney stripping his jacket off with sharp, jerking motions. The jacket hit a chair and slid off. Rodney sneezed.
“I hate you. Really. Really a lot.”
John pouted in mock thought. “Hey, not my fault. I’m just more Zen. Teyla’s been teaching me to meditate. You should try it.”
The sound of the Greek alphabet backwards made John hide his head back in the book.
“Besides, it’s almost like a paid vacation.”
This time it was a string of what John was guessing was Russian.
The sudden quiet that fell afterward was mildly unnerving. He didn’t dare look up and blow his cover, though.
The feel of fingers on his boots gave him visions of tripping over knotted shoelaces and finally made him risk it. All he saw was Rodney diligently working at removing John’s shoes. His socks followed, feet cradled gently in competent hands. It felt worryingly good.
“What are you doing?”
Rodney didn’t look up. “I should think that would be patently obvious. As you’ve pointed out, we’ve got several days of unoccupied time to occupy. I can’t think of a better way to do it.”
John couldn’t argue with that. Sometimes, sleeping with a genius came in handy.
Rodney’s hands slipped under John’s pants leg, fingers kneading at his calf with just the right mix of strength and persuasion. John watched as Rodney leaned the rest of the way forward and nipped lightly at the ankle. John's head went back against the pillow as a clever tongue began to trace up his shin.
He got it three seconds too late.
Between sneezes, he could hear Rodney laughing.
It wouldn’t be funny on anyone else.
Okay, it would, but not nearly as funny.
It was just that they were such very quiet sounds for such a very not-quiet guy. The fact that Rodney’d recently had a haircut didn’t help. Every sneeze brought his shoulders up around his ears and scrunched his face around his nose. He looked like a hedgehog.
For obvious reasons, John’s team wasn’t keeping their planned mission schedule. Lorne’s group would be stepping in for their trip to M3X-294, hopefully to trade for a mineral that pretended to be naquadria in most tests, and yet weighed considerably less.
John had been watching Rodney try unsuccessfully to direct his replacement for the past half hour. (The walkways around the gateroom were convenient that way.) John could have been a nice guy and translated, given that long-term exposure had taught him Rodneyspeak.
Nice guys didn’t have nearly this much fun.
It had taken most of a day to figure it out. On M3X-957, Rodney had stubbed his toe while taking readings and grumbled about it accordingly. John had told him it was his own damn fault and to try looking up now and then. They’d just gotten to the entertaining stage of play-insults when the local welcoming committee had dusted them both with the “Powder of Peace”. John had immediately flashed to thoughts of scary hallucinogenics and scarier drug-induced comas. When a minute passed and all they got was sneezing, it seemed like a lucky enough break.
It was when they didn’t stop sneezing that John started worrying again.
Four hours, nine diagnostics, two showers, and one very important conversation with a smiling village elder later, John was back to seeing the humor in it. Apparently, the powder was used to make peace between warring nations and feuding spouses. It keyed in to the recipient’s blood pressure, and induced the sneezing whenever the levels got too high.
Alien anger management training. Carson thought it would wear off in under a week, as soon as the drug worked its way through the bloodstream. John had lain off the morning runs and put the team on standby, and hadn’t sneezed once since the diagnosis. Rodney glared at him. Often.
The angrier Rodney got, the more he sneezed.
He was sneezing a lot, just now.
John snickered as a snarl dissolved into the sound of a kitten with the sniffles. An answering chuckle came from his right. A look showed him Ronon leaning over the balcony a few feet away. That John hadn’t heard him approach was par for the course.
“It’s kinda cute.”
John nodded and grinned maniacally. “I know.”
“Are you gonna tell him it’s cute?”
“Nope.”
“Can I tell him it’s cute?”
“You weren’t here when he built the nuclear bomb.”
Ronon did that rolling shrug which said, eloquently, Huh.
A general shuffling below caught his attention. Rodney had apparently decided they were as educated as they were going to get.
“Gotta go.”
Ronon nodded and gave a half-wave.
John walked at a very careful pace back to his quarters, and beat Rodney there with just enough time to be leaning calmly against his headboard, book in hand. A calculatedly dry look from under a raised eyebrow showed him Rodney stripping his jacket off with sharp, jerking motions. The jacket hit a chair and slid off. Rodney sneezed.
“I hate you. Really. Really a lot.”
John pouted in mock thought. “Hey, not my fault. I’m just more Zen. Teyla’s been teaching me to meditate. You should try it.”
The sound of the Greek alphabet backwards made John hide his head back in the book.
“Besides, it’s almost like a paid vacation.”
This time it was a string of what John was guessing was Russian.
The sudden quiet that fell afterward was mildly unnerving. He didn’t dare look up and blow his cover, though.
The feel of fingers on his boots gave him visions of tripping over knotted shoelaces and finally made him risk it. All he saw was Rodney diligently working at removing John’s shoes. His socks followed, feet cradled gently in competent hands. It felt worryingly good.
“What are you doing?”
Rodney didn’t look up. “I should think that would be patently obvious. As you’ve pointed out, we’ve got several days of unoccupied time to occupy. I can’t think of a better way to do it.”
John couldn’t argue with that. Sometimes, sleeping with a genius came in handy.
Rodney’s hands slipped under John’s pants leg, fingers kneading at his calf with just the right mix of strength and persuasion. John watched as Rodney leaned the rest of the way forward and nipped lightly at the ankle. John's head went back against the pillow as a clever tongue began to trace up his shin.
He got it three seconds too late.
Between sneezes, he could hear Rodney laughing.
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no subject
Date: 2006-07-28 04:35 am (UTC)Oh, that's fabulous. I love what you did with it (so cute!), and the punchline is perfect.
Put a big smile on my face. Thank you so much for that. :)
no subject
Date: 2006-07-29 08:02 pm (UTC)You like? *dance of glee*
Glad I could bring a grin. I've been playing with the NCIS prompt, too, in the meantime. That one's not going to be nearly as fluffy, but maybe still warm in its own way. How do you feel about Kate (or is it Cait)?
no subject
Date: 2006-07-28 05:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-29 08:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-28 06:26 am (UTC)Rodney!! and he...and then!!!....aahahahah!!
Sorry it's late. Suffice to say, Imagechild amused. You? comic genius.
<3
no subject
Date: 2006-07-29 08:05 pm (UTC)I've never gotten 'comic' before. Evil, yes, but not comic. *g*
no subject
Date: 2006-07-28 08:46 am (UTC)John nodded and grinned maniacally. “I know.”
“Are you gonna tell him it’s cute?”
“Nope.”
“Can I tell him it’s cute?”
“You weren’t here when he built the nuclear bomb.”
Hee! How fun! :)
no subject
Date: 2006-07-29 08:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-28 09:30 am (UTC)Fabulous. And that's what John gets for enjoying Rodney's discomfort just a little too much!
/lurk
no subject
Date: 2006-07-29 08:08 pm (UTC)Thanks for getting a kick out of it.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-28 10:14 am (UTC)The sound of the Greek alphabet backwards made John hide his head back in the book.
Oh, stuff it. I am declaring my love for you.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-29 08:13 pm (UTC)Oh, god. Now I need to get the image of Rodney dressed like Gandalf out of my head. Seriously. So. Wrong.
You know I love you back. I mean, come on... friars. There's a level of cool there that cannot be argued. *g*
no subject
Date: 2006-07-30 02:32 am (UTC)Argh! You see I am already plagued by a Rodney dressed as catwoman (and which one!), what with the tail and stilettos, but now he has a long, white beard to go. Or Gandalf dressed as catwoman. Excuse me I need to scrub my brain out.
*pets Humbert of Romans sitting at her knee* How much do I love that I can molest men of the cloth on a whim? I cannot even think the word tonsure without squeeing.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-28 01:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-29 08:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-28 10:56 pm (UTC)*g*
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Date: 2006-07-29 08:26 pm (UTC)Thanks for enjoying it. :>
no subject
Date: 2006-07-28 11:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-29 08:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-29 01:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-29 08:36 pm (UTC)Actually, as an example of just how warped my brain is: I got the hedgehog image, which got me to thinking about hedgehog representations in general, which made me think of Beatrix Potter... Suffice it to say, by the end I had a picture of Rodney as Jemima Puddleduck running rampant through my head. *sigh* I need help.
About hedgehogs, though: I used to have a pet one, inherited from a family acquaintance. He was adorable, in his own prickly little way. You haven't lived until you've seen a hedgehog eat spaghetti. They slurp it up, complete with sound effects. It's unbearably cute.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-30 02:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-30 06:23 am (UTC)But can't you just see it? With the little bonnet, and the apron? Maybe a basket under his little ducky appendage?
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Date: 2006-07-30 06:25 am (UTC)*chokes* You see, I can just see that ... with the waddling and all .. and it is a decidedly disturbing yet oddly compelling image. If Jemima was an astrophysict, we'd have to call her Rodney.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-29 03:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-29 08:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-30 01:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-30 06:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-30 09:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-02 07:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-02 07:22 pm (UTC)Thanks for enjoying the ficlet!
no subject
Date: 2006-08-02 10:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-03 09:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-22 08:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-01 03:52 am (UTC)Hee. Poor housemate. I've done that to my family often enough that they've learned to ignore me.
("What the hell is that? It's like... a hyena. On acid. And in pain."
"No. It's just your daughter. Go back to sleep.")
Glad this one hit your funnybone, and please apologize to your housemate for me. *g*
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Date: 2008-01-04 10:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-30 05:54 am (UTC)I almost kind of want to ask if it might be possible to write something in this 'verse? Because um. ADORABLE CITY. If not, that's completely, utterly okay. <3
no subject
Date: 2008-07-30 12:26 pm (UTC)As for the ficcing... no! No no nonono. They are mine, aaaaaall mine! I will clutch the sneezing boys with evil, graspy fingers. Mwahahaha!
Yeah. Heh. Can't even pretend well. In other words: yep, fire away! It's pretty much open season around here in fic verses. *g*