Puddings Cups and Laughing Eyes, ALSC'verse, SGA, McKay/Sheppard, Pg
Title: Pudding Cups and Laughing Eyes - Atlantis Lakes Summer Camp 'verse
Author: Katty, aka merry_gentry
Fandom: SGA
Pairing: Semi-slash (could just be gen), Rodney McKay and John Sheppard
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, they do not belong to me. They do conjure up rather pretty images in one's mind, though, don't they? ^_^
Author's Notes: So, I signed up to do a summer camp au for atlantis_9to5. I failed - majorly, for about six months. Then I decided to stop being a procrastinator and actually write something. This isn't going to be one long fic, but several shorter ones on one 'verse. This one is post-summer: Rodney looking back. It's slightly angsty, but has a better ending. Promise. ^_^
Summary: Whenever Rodney manages to swipe a pudding cup from Jeannie’s kitchen, he’s always reminded of the summer he spent - against his will - as a counselor in a summer camp in Pennsylvania.
Whenever Rodney manages to swipe a pudding cup from Jeannie’s kitchen (milk chocolate’s the best - white chocolate can be too runny, but vanilla’s okay), he’s always reminded of the summer he spent - against his will - as a counselor in a summer camp in Pennsylvania. He doesn’t buy the pudding cups himself anymore. But, still. Pudding, camp, memories.
And Rodney has a ritual for eating his pudding cup - he peels the lid off, sets the cup down in front of him and then licks the traces off the inside of the foil lid. When the first taste of chocolate (or vanilla, or whatever) spreads across his tongue, Rodney thinks of hot summer days, nights that weren’t much cooler, laughter and dark, uncontrollable hair.
***
Secretly, Rodney loves babysitting Madison whenever he’s forced to endure Jeannie’s sisterly advice and Kaleb’s atrocious vegan cooking for prolonged periods of time. He realises it’s a call back to that summer, and really? That’s kind of pathetic if he sits and thinks about it too much. Madison is, however, so much like Jeannie was when she was younger - all precocious talent and demanding questions.
Rodney wonders whether she’ll be as adorable and difficult to deal with during the summer of her eleventh year like Jeannie was. He wonders if Madison will run away because someone (dark, spiky hair, laughing eyes) will tell her stories about hitchhiking across the US. It’s actually amazing they found Jeannie before she managed to reach the nearest town.
***
Rodney doesn’t swim in pools - and especially not community ones! Being surrounded by all those chemicals is just a death wish. Not to mention the other people...
He’ll swim in a lake, though, when Jeannie drags him with them, but his memories of swimming pools are dominated by the taste of chlorine and terrified screams and diving into freezing water to pull a small body - she’sstillbreathingjohn!stillhereohthankgod - up and to the side.
***
Sometimes Rodney wakes up at a ridiculous hour and can’t get back to sleep.
Okay, a ridiculous hour is probably more along the lines of half six as opposed to four in the morning, but that doesn’t make it any easier when he fell into bed at gone-two after dragging himself home from the lab.
And on those mornings, Rodney still, after all this time, expects to hear Bates’ bugle playing. It makes him choke out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. Over fifteen years and he never thought he’d ache to hear that god-awful reveille call.
But there’s no cabin of kids to wake up - no one (obnoxious, braying laugh; bright, easy grin and a warm hand on his shoulder) to steal waffles from at breakfast. In fact, he can have all the waffles he cares to cook.
On those mornings, Rodney cocoons himself in his covers and refuses to get up for another three hours. Just because he can.
***
When the doorbell goes one evening, Rodney almost doesn’t get up to answer it. But he does, grumbling all the way to the front door and through the opening of the two locks and the bar. (Hey, he’s an important person, and there’s top-secret work in his house.)
He pulls the door open and freezes, mouth open in his shock. Still the same ridiculous hair, the same laughing eyes and the bright, easy grin, even if the eyes are shadowed by what looks horribly like pain, and the bright, easy grin looks forced. A shiver runs down his spine, and Rodney can feel his heart getting ready to break all over again.
“Hey, Mer,” the man drawls, hitching one shoulder in a shrug. “Gonna let me in?”
My fic masterlist is here.
My please-give-me-a-prompt begging-page is here.
Author: Katty, aka merry_gentry
Fandom: SGA
Pairing: Semi-slash (could just be gen), Rodney McKay and John Sheppard
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, they do not belong to me. They do conjure up rather pretty images in one's mind, though, don't they? ^_^
Author's Notes: So, I signed up to do a summer camp au for atlantis_9to5. I failed - majorly, for about six months. Then I decided to stop being a procrastinator and actually write something. This isn't going to be one long fic, but several shorter ones on one 'verse. This one is post-summer: Rodney looking back. It's slightly angsty, but has a better ending. Promise. ^_^
Summary: Whenever Rodney manages to swipe a pudding cup from Jeannie’s kitchen, he’s always reminded of the summer he spent - against his will - as a counselor in a summer camp in Pennsylvania.
Whenever Rodney manages to swipe a pudding cup from Jeannie’s kitchen (milk chocolate’s the best - white chocolate can be too runny, but vanilla’s okay), he’s always reminded of the summer he spent - against his will - as a counselor in a summer camp in Pennsylvania. He doesn’t buy the pudding cups himself anymore. But, still. Pudding, camp, memories.
And Rodney has a ritual for eating his pudding cup - he peels the lid off, sets the cup down in front of him and then licks the traces off the inside of the foil lid. When the first taste of chocolate (or vanilla, or whatever) spreads across his tongue, Rodney thinks of hot summer days, nights that weren’t much cooler, laughter and dark, uncontrollable hair.
***
Secretly, Rodney loves babysitting Madison whenever he’s forced to endure Jeannie’s sisterly advice and Kaleb’s atrocious vegan cooking for prolonged periods of time. He realises it’s a call back to that summer, and really? That’s kind of pathetic if he sits and thinks about it too much. Madison is, however, so much like Jeannie was when she was younger - all precocious talent and demanding questions.
Rodney wonders whether she’ll be as adorable and difficult to deal with during the summer of her eleventh year like Jeannie was. He wonders if Madison will run away because someone (dark, spiky hair, laughing eyes) will tell her stories about hitchhiking across the US. It’s actually amazing they found Jeannie before she managed to reach the nearest town.
***
Rodney doesn’t swim in pools - and especially not community ones! Being surrounded by all those chemicals is just a death wish. Not to mention the other people...
He’ll swim in a lake, though, when Jeannie drags him with them, but his memories of swimming pools are dominated by the taste of chlorine and terrified screams and diving into freezing water to pull a small body - she’sstillbreathingjohn!stillhereohthankgod - up and to the side.
***
Sometimes Rodney wakes up at a ridiculous hour and can’t get back to sleep.
Okay, a ridiculous hour is probably more along the lines of half six as opposed to four in the morning, but that doesn’t make it any easier when he fell into bed at gone-two after dragging himself home from the lab.
And on those mornings, Rodney still, after all this time, expects to hear Bates’ bugle playing. It makes him choke out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. Over fifteen years and he never thought he’d ache to hear that god-awful reveille call.
But there’s no cabin of kids to wake up - no one (obnoxious, braying laugh; bright, easy grin and a warm hand on his shoulder) to steal waffles from at breakfast. In fact, he can have all the waffles he cares to cook.
On those mornings, Rodney cocoons himself in his covers and refuses to get up for another three hours. Just because he can.
***
When the doorbell goes one evening, Rodney almost doesn’t get up to answer it. But he does, grumbling all the way to the front door and through the opening of the two locks and the bar. (Hey, he’s an important person, and there’s top-secret work in his house.)
He pulls the door open and freezes, mouth open in his shock. Still the same ridiculous hair, the same laughing eyes and the bright, easy grin, even if the eyes are shadowed by what looks horribly like pain, and the bright, easy grin looks forced. A shiver runs down his spine, and Rodney can feel his heart getting ready to break all over again.
“Hey, Mer,” the man drawls, hitching one shoulder in a shrug. “Gonna let me in?”
My fic masterlist is here.
My please-give-me-a-prompt begging-page is here.