stillane | McShep Snippet

I should be doing actual work. Am I? Yeah, riiight. Instead, I'm failing to fic. I've got a plot that wants to be, but I want to cover the background first. So, in the meantime, I've got an entirely unrelated McShep bit that won't go away. It's just slightly bigger than a double drabble, nothing grand or profound. I'm just trying to overcome my shy-writer syndrome. Also, I have no beta. As always, all feedback is welcome.

Title: Small Things

Fandom: SGA

Pairing: Sheppard/Mckay

Rating: PG-13? Very mild

The way he put underlings in their place. John always knew they loved him, because people that smart didn’t take that kind of abuse from just anyone. It didn’t mean either side had to be all warm and fuzzy about it. He was a bastard, and a tyrant, but he was their bastard. Funny how most relationships involving him were like that.

The way he was anything but suave. The man drooled, for God’s sake. He couldn’t flirt worth a damn, had to be told when it was necessary at all. Political correctness somehow eluded him in any given situation. Most things deriving from the same root as “polite” did.

The way most mules would have felt outclassed by his brand of stubborn. No one was safe from it, either. Friend, foe, and authority figure alike were all subject to that unique style of grit. Quiet determination it wasn’t. Hell, quiet he wasn't. John sometimes thought he used his staff as training for the verbal barrage he’d launch at inconvenient obstacles. He wondered if they knew they were cannon fodder, and thought they probably did.

The way he gasped John’s name, every time. The way his eyes went grey in moonlight. The way his smile got more crooked when he was tired. The way his bravest moments were always the silent ones. The way his hair had exactly one style. The way his hands had many.

They say you miss the small things. John knows they’re wrong. He misses everything.