Doctor Who, Rose, Jack and NinepurpleallisonJanuary 19 2007, 18:03:26 UTC
After some time spent just wandering about seperately in London, Rose was chatting with Jack as he changed his shirt. She spotted an interesting bruise on his shoulder
( ... )
John/Rodney, PG, Béseleladycat777January 19 2007, 18:12:50 UTC
“Hey. What’s this?”
Rodney didn’t open his eyes as his arm was lifted, gently turned this way and that while careful fingers probed the edge of the bruise that rose like lace, latticing around his bicep. “Mm. Got caught in the door.”
Slow, palpable silence. “What?”
Rolling your eyes behind closed lids defeated the purpose. Dammit. Didn’t John know that it was sleepy time now? Hero-ing took a lot out of people. “When the alarm went off,” he mumbled, burying his face deeper in the pillow. It stretched his arm awkwardly, but even before he could wince a warm hand caught him on the arch above his armpit, kneading the tense muscles out of spasm. “Got caught in the door. Zel’nka got me out.”
“I thought you said you didn’t need to go see Carson?”
He was far too exhausted to huff a sigh. Expecting that John, who wasn’t self-absorbed so much as entirely oblivious, would figure out the logic to Rodney’s hypochondria was foolish. Even if there was logic to it, complete with levels he’d once detailed out a frantic, Mt. Dew
( ... )
"Hidden" SGA, McKay/Sheppard, NC17yin_againJanuary 19 2007, 21:26:17 UTC
John phased out while Teyla continued to negotiate for wheat or Pepsi or who-cared-what, his fingertip stealing under his wristband to rub at the sore spot he could feel
( ... )
untitled john/rodney (g)dogearedJanuary 19 2007, 23:12:32 UTC
It'd been three days, and John's jaw hurt, and they weren't talking about it. He hadn't wanted to hear any stoic warrior crap or, and this was more likely, really, jokes from Rodney about the way he'd slipped on their last mission and hit the icy path face-first. So he'd glowered and gone off to find an ice pack, and nobody had said a word since. The morning after, John had spent a while in front of the mirror, prodding gingerly at the bluish bruise and three jagged scrapes. He'd gotten a bunch of sympathetic glances during the day, and he'd mostly tried to project the image of a guy who'd taken a punch to the face in the line of duty and not a guy who had, you know, tripped. The second morning, he'd looked a little longingly at his razor before hitting the shower. This morning, his jaw had still hurt, and he couldn't even tell what color the bruise was now because his whole cheek was dark with beard growth. Elizabeth had looked at him a little pointedly in the afternoon staff meeting, and he'd spent the rest of it being irritated by
( ... )
Re: untitled john/rodney (g)moreblissJanuary 19 2007, 23:44:33 UTC
he'd mostly tried to project the image of a guy who'd taken a punch to the face in the line of duty and not a guy who had, you know, tripped. Heeee! Very funny, and then, oh so sweet!
SGA, John/Rodney, 'Oblivious'moreblissJanuary 19 2007, 23:41:50 UTC
Sitting in the debriefing, John’s eyes kept slipping over to McKay. There was a mark high on his cheek that he couldn’t quite make out. It wasn’t dirt, though there was enough of that caked all over their boots. It wasn’t made up of the red dust that coated most of their skin (and the inside of Rodney’s lungs, if his complaints were to be believed). It sat to the left of his eye, and every time McKay blinked those eyelashes of his, it drew more attention to itself. When Rodney smiled it seemed to scrunch up a little, then it relaxed, taking its cue from the rest of Rodney’s features.
“Best head to the infirmary,” commented Elizabeth “get that looked at.”
John nodded in agreement. It was probably just a bruise, and a small one at that, but it payed to be careful. He kept an eye on it as they left the meeting room, not really noticing Teyla assisting Ronan who’d dislocated his shoulder again.
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Rodney didn’t open his eyes as his arm was lifted, gently turned this way and that while careful fingers probed the edge of the bruise that rose like lace, latticing around his bicep. “Mm. Got caught in the door.”
Slow, palpable silence. “What?”
Rolling your eyes behind closed lids defeated the purpose. Dammit. Didn’t John know that it was sleepy time now? Hero-ing took a lot out of people. “When the alarm went off,” he mumbled, burying his face deeper in the pillow. It stretched his arm awkwardly, but even before he could wince a warm hand caught him on the arch above his armpit, kneading the tense muscles out of spasm. “Got caught in the door. Zel’nka got me out.”
“I thought you said you didn’t need to go see Carson?”
He was far too exhausted to huff a sigh. Expecting that John, who wasn’t self-absorbed so much as entirely oblivious, would figure out the logic to Rodney’s hypochondria was foolish. Even if there was logic to it, complete with levels he’d once detailed out a frantic, Mt. Dew ( ... )
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"Oh, John."
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Heeee! Very funny, and then, oh so sweet!
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*snorfles* This is the John we see on the show - love it. :D
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“Best head to the infirmary,” commented Elizabeth “get that looked at.”
John nodded in agreement. It was probably just a bruise, and a small one at that, but it payed to be careful. He kept an eye on it as they left the meeting room, not really noticing Teyla assisting Ronan who’d dislocated his shoulder again.
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