[Stargate: Drabble] "Stowaways" [John/Rodney, G]
Title: Stowaways
Prompt: writerverse challenge #37 quick fic amnesty (‘crack of dawn’, ‘emergency’ & ‘tabby cat’)
Word Count: 863
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairings : John Sheppard/Rodney McKay
Summary: There’s an unknown life-sign aboard the Daedalus
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_bookclub
Stowaways
The third day in a row that they were woken before the crack of dawn, Rodney didn’t even bother complaining. John actually looked back across the bed, wondering if he’d just fallen back asleep (which had been known to happen nowadays, when he was exhausted) but Rodney was sitting on the edge, tying his shoes.
“It had better be a real emergency this time,” Rodney muttered. He tried to put on his jacket, realized it was John’s and swapped it for his own. “Or Atlantis is going to have a very, very clean waste disposal system.”
John probably shouldn’t have nodded in agreement, but he was getting too old to pull almost-all-nighters anymore. He tapped his radio. “Sheppard to Control.”
“Control here, general,” said the night watch ‘gate tech, a friendly German sergeant who was the same age as Torren.
“What’s the situation?”
“It’s the Daedalus, sir,” she told him. “The city’s sensors registered a contaminant aboard and activated a quarantine field around the ship. But we can’t get a reading on what the contaminant is, or by-pass the quarantine field.”
“You’re not supposed to by-pass the quarantine field,” snapped Rodney, who’d been listening. “You’re supposed to determine what caused it to activate and correct it.”
“But, Dr. McKay, we can’t-”
“Don’t touch anything until I get there,” Rodney interrupted. “McKay out.”
He turned to John, scowling, as they got into the transporter. “You go climbing up the side of a tower again, and I’ll divorce you.”
John grinned. “Yes, dear.”
Rodney was off again the moment they arrived in the Control Room, barking orders, shoving people out of the way and generally insulting everyone. After a few minutes, he straightened again. “Okay, try it now.”
The ‘gate tech looked wary- a sure sign of a newcomer to Atlantis- so John leaned over to activate the sensors.
“It’s a life-sign,” he said. “In the Daedalus’s engine room. It looks faint, but that might just be the interference from all that Asgard stuff.”
“But it’s not registering a biological hazard?”
John checked again. “Nope.”
Teyla and Ronon joined them on the landing platform, and they boarded the Daedalus. Her crew had secured the ship when the quarantine activated, so the corridors were empty. They entered the engine room and fanned out.
John kept his hand on his P90, prepared for almost anything, until Rodney cried, “John!” and disappeared behind a console.
“Rodney!” John cracked his shin on a chair as he raced over, half-convinced he’d find his husband lying in a pool of blood, but Rodney was kneeling on the floor, pulling open an access panel in the wall.
“What are you just standing there for?” he demanded, as John tried to surreptitiously take a better look at his aching shin. “Help me with this.”
John knelt carefully beside him (while determining that his shin would bruise nicely, but nothing was broken) and helped Rodney get the panel open. He shined the light from his P90 inside and there, in a kind of nest made from fiber-optic cable and what looked like a couple of standard-issue t-shirts, was a gray tabby cat and four tiny kittens.
“She must have just given birth,” said Rodney. “This many small life-signs, plus the interference from the engines- Atlantis probably couldn’t tell at first if they were a really sick person or a really big parasite, but either would have been enough for the quarantine.”
“Well, they can’t stay there,” said John. “Can you get them to come out?”
That got him the ‘are you really asking me that?’ look. Rodney, talking in a low, encouraging murmur, reached into the access panel. A moment later, John heard a sound like chopper blades, which he realized was the mother cat purring.
“Hold out your hands,” Rodney ordered, and John did, only to figure out a moment too late that Rodney was going to set a tiny, tiny kitten in his cupped palms.
“Hey,” John said softly. The kitten’s eyes were still closed, but it turned its little head toward the sound of his voice, and he could feel small sharp claws against his skin.
“Keep her warm, Sheppard,” said Rodney, handing another kitten to Teyla, who cradled it against her chest, and the other two to Ronon, whose big hands made them look even tinier.
Finally, Rodney straightened, the mother cat in his arms. “See, your babies are just fine,” he told her. “We’re going to take really good care of them.”
John tucked the kitten he held against his chest, where it latched tiny claws into his t-shirt. “We’re keeping them, aren’t we,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.
“They need a good home,” said Rodney. “And I’ve already thought of a name for their mom. Right, Frankenstein?”
John grinned. “Okay. But I get to name the little guys.”
“Don’t I get to name one if I’m gonna keep it?” Ronon asked.
The kitten in John’s hand dug her claws a little deeper. “I’ll go let Colonel Dixon know she can stand down from general quarters, and start unloading the cargo,” he said, trying gently to un-latch the kitten’s claws.
Maybe he should name her X-23…
THE END
(Bonus geek points if anyone knows where Mama Cat’s name comes from…)
Current Mood:
mellow
Prompt: writerverse challenge #37 quick fic amnesty (‘crack of dawn’, ‘emergency’ & ‘tabby cat’)
Word Count: 863
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairings : John Sheppard/Rodney McKay
Summary: There’s an unknown life-sign aboard the Daedalus
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_bookclub
Stowaways
The third day in a row that they were woken before the crack of dawn, Rodney didn’t even bother complaining. John actually looked back across the bed, wondering if he’d just fallen back asleep (which had been known to happen nowadays, when he was exhausted) but Rodney was sitting on the edge, tying his shoes.
“It had better be a real emergency this time,” Rodney muttered. He tried to put on his jacket, realized it was John’s and swapped it for his own. “Or Atlantis is going to have a very, very clean waste disposal system.”
John probably shouldn’t have nodded in agreement, but he was getting too old to pull almost-all-nighters anymore. He tapped his radio. “Sheppard to Control.”
“Control here, general,” said the night watch ‘gate tech, a friendly German sergeant who was the same age as Torren.
“What’s the situation?”
“It’s the Daedalus, sir,” she told him. “The city’s sensors registered a contaminant aboard and activated a quarantine field around the ship. But we can’t get a reading on what the contaminant is, or by-pass the quarantine field.”
“You’re not supposed to by-pass the quarantine field,” snapped Rodney, who’d been listening. “You’re supposed to determine what caused it to activate and correct it.”
“But, Dr. McKay, we can’t-”
“Don’t touch anything until I get there,” Rodney interrupted. “McKay out.”
He turned to John, scowling, as they got into the transporter. “You go climbing up the side of a tower again, and I’ll divorce you.”
John grinned. “Yes, dear.”
Rodney was off again the moment they arrived in the Control Room, barking orders, shoving people out of the way and generally insulting everyone. After a few minutes, he straightened again. “Okay, try it now.”
The ‘gate tech looked wary- a sure sign of a newcomer to Atlantis- so John leaned over to activate the sensors.
“It’s a life-sign,” he said. “In the Daedalus’s engine room. It looks faint, but that might just be the interference from all that Asgard stuff.”
“But it’s not registering a biological hazard?”
John checked again. “Nope.”
Teyla and Ronon joined them on the landing platform, and they boarded the Daedalus. Her crew had secured the ship when the quarantine activated, so the corridors were empty. They entered the engine room and fanned out.
John kept his hand on his P90, prepared for almost anything, until Rodney cried, “John!” and disappeared behind a console.
“Rodney!” John cracked his shin on a chair as he raced over, half-convinced he’d find his husband lying in a pool of blood, but Rodney was kneeling on the floor, pulling open an access panel in the wall.
“What are you just standing there for?” he demanded, as John tried to surreptitiously take a better look at his aching shin. “Help me with this.”
John knelt carefully beside him (while determining that his shin would bruise nicely, but nothing was broken) and helped Rodney get the panel open. He shined the light from his P90 inside and there, in a kind of nest made from fiber-optic cable and what looked like a couple of standard-issue t-shirts, was a gray tabby cat and four tiny kittens.
“She must have just given birth,” said Rodney. “This many small life-signs, plus the interference from the engines- Atlantis probably couldn’t tell at first if they were a really sick person or a really big parasite, but either would have been enough for the quarantine.”
“Well, they can’t stay there,” said John. “Can you get them to come out?”
That got him the ‘are you really asking me that?’ look. Rodney, talking in a low, encouraging murmur, reached into the access panel. A moment later, John heard a sound like chopper blades, which he realized was the mother cat purring.
“Hold out your hands,” Rodney ordered, and John did, only to figure out a moment too late that Rodney was going to set a tiny, tiny kitten in his cupped palms.
“Hey,” John said softly. The kitten’s eyes were still closed, but it turned its little head toward the sound of his voice, and he could feel small sharp claws against his skin.
“Keep her warm, Sheppard,” said Rodney, handing another kitten to Teyla, who cradled it against her chest, and the other two to Ronon, whose big hands made them look even tinier.
Finally, Rodney straightened, the mother cat in his arms. “See, your babies are just fine,” he told her. “We’re going to take really good care of them.”
John tucked the kitten he held against his chest, where it latched tiny claws into his t-shirt. “We’re keeping them, aren’t we,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.
“They need a good home,” said Rodney. “And I’ve already thought of a name for their mom. Right, Frankenstein?”
John grinned. “Okay. But I get to name the little guys.”
“Don’t I get to name one if I’m gonna keep it?” Ronon asked.
The kitten in John’s hand dug her claws a little deeper. “I’ll go let Colonel Dixon know she can stand down from general quarters, and start unloading the cargo,” he said, trying gently to un-latch the kitten’s claws.
Maybe he should name her X-23…
THE END
(Bonus geek points if anyone knows where Mama Cat’s name comes from…)
Current Mood:
mellow