SGA FIC: Five Presents Rodney Thought About Giving John for Christmas, and One He Actually Did
Christmas fic!
Title: Five Presents Rodney Thought About Giving John for Christmas, and One He Actually Did
Rating: PG-13
Word count: ~1,600
Spoilers: nothing serious, but I do mention The Brotherhood and The Return I.
Summary: Pretty much exactly what the title says.
Disclaimer: If you had yourself a quantum mirror, perhaps you’d find a reality where SG:A belonged to me...alas, this one isn’t it. *pouts*
Author’s Notes: Several weeks ago, I read a newspaper article about gifts for the office. Now, I’ll admit to reading/watching things with an SGA slant, but for this, I didn’t even have to try…all of the “thought about” gifts appeared in the article.
1. USB Missile Launcher
Contrary to popular opinion amongst the civilian staff, Colonel Sheppard did, in fact, have an office. He even spent a rather decent amount of his time there. He didn’t enjoy it, of course, because being in the office meant paperwork and disciplinary actions and requisition forms, which were their own special hell.
When they had been exiled to Earth - those interminably long six weeks - Rodney had noticed that Sheppard kept his SGC office cluttered with distractions. The dartboard, the model planes...
Clearly, the man was bored.
Rodney understood completely - it’s amazing how much time frees up when you don’t have to save the city/planet/galaxy every other day.
On Atlantis, boredom wasn’t exactly a problem. Procrastination, however, was still an art form. And while Rodney could easily see this gift being turned against him, he would pay to see the first time an unsuspecting Lorne walked in with performance reviews only to be hit with foam missiles.
2. IQ Puzzle Erasers
Atlantis was as close to a paperless office as you could get, more from necessity than conscious effort. Rodney wasn’t worried that that would diminish the appeal of his gift.
Ever since the disastrous mission to Dagan, when Sheppard had solved the Brotherhood’s puzzle, Rodney had looked for ways to play with the other man’s mental skills. And yes, Rodney knew it was kind of pathetic, but he wasn’t going to apologize for the fact that intelligence was attractive - and that watching Sheppard do math was just plain hot.
They had worked their way through brain teasers and Sudoku puzzles, found themselves evenly matched at chess, and then one day Rodney - desperate to get Sheppard to stop pestering him in the middle of a very important simulation - tossed Dr. Simpson’s Rubik’s Cube at him.
Rodney had turned back to his laptop, typing rapidly, and only just finished saying, “That should keep you busy for a while” when Sheppard placed it on the table. Solved.
He had set it up again and handed it back to Sheppard, this time watching as the Colonel’s hands flew, spinning and twisting, skillfully manipulating the cube. A minute later he was finished.
Rodney didn’t expect the puzzle cubes to be a serious challenge, but they’d still be fun. And picturing Sheppard’s look of concentration as he fitted it together, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth, deft fingers twisting each piece…well. He couldn’t deny he was looking forward to that.
3. Paper Airplane Page-a-Day Calendar
Sheppard tended to bond with any children they came across in their travels. They were inexplicably attracted to Rodney, too, but he was usually able to shake them off with a minimum of tears (and, unfortunately, bribes of chocolate). The colonel just seemed to get them, the obvious joke being that, deep down, Sheppard was an 8 year-old, too.
Rodney himself had certainly mocked the man on more than one occasion.
He had a memory, though, of an otherwise forgettable mission with nice natives and not much technology. It was after negotiations but before the evening meal, and the team had been invited to explore the village and relax, which meant that Sheppard had been immediately appropriated by the small group of children whom he had enchanted earlier in the day with his skills at their game of not-quite kickball.
When he next saw Sheppard, some two hours later, the cluster of children around him was spellbound, listening to him describe flight as the colonel folded and refolded a sheet of paper, making a basic paper airplane and watching the children copy his movements with their own paper.
Rodney watched Sheppard’s boyish enthusiasm, his simple joy and laughing eyes, as the paper squadron took flight. He couldn’t help but join in, and soon he and Sheppard were trying to recall ever more complex airplane designs - condors, darts, raptors, the interceptor, the stealth wing, others whose names they couldn’t remember or that they made up as they went.
By the time they were interrupted for dinner, the children were breathless with laughter and there were airplanes whizzing everywhere. Rodney caught Sheppard’s eye and for a moment forgot how to breathe. He wanted to say so many things, wanted to say nothing at all, wanted to lean over and press his lips to John’s, to hold on and never let go…
Then that singular, perfect moment passed and the colonel was swept along the path to the pavilion, Rodney following in the children’s wake.
To anyone else, the calendar would be seen as a cool gift - something appropriate to both the pilot and the little boy. But John would know. He would remember.
4. Sarcastic Magic 8 Ball
Everyone knows that Rodney thrives on equal parts caffeine and sarcasm. Or at least, that’s what his minions say. Then again, the newbies also say that he has a contentious relationship with the colonel, which is just absurd.
He and Sheppard argue, certainly, but they don’t fight. Personally, he’s always viewed their banter as some sort of foreplay. Incredibly long, drawn out foreplay, to be sure, but definitely something that fed the undercurrent of tension between them in a good way.
And ever since their friendship gave way to something deeper, something more, the verbal sparring has only gotten better. Needling Sheppard has become a delight, teasing and mockery a sign of affection that the other man is only too happy to shoot right back in Rodney’s direction. Their conversations are littered with subtle barbs and friendly one-upmanship, with digs on each other’s intelligence and skills that somehow still manage to express their confidence and faith in the one they mock, with the near-indecipherable references that comprise their verbal shorthand.
Unfortunately, Rodney can’t always be there when Sheppard needs to be put in his place. To that end, the magic 8 ball will serve to remind the colonel just who, exactly, is the genius around here.
5. Solar Motion Ferris Wheel
Rodney hadn’t been on that first mission to Athos, too busy desperately searching for ways to produce or conserve power. Eventually, though, he’d heard all of the details of that fateful day - including the lighter moments.
It was always surprising to remember that before that day, then-Major Sheppard had never even been through the Stargate, let alone made first contact with the inhabitants of another planet. He’d never even met anyone not from Earth.
Of course his list of hobbies meant nothing to Teyla, at the time, but Sheppard had been right in assuming that the way in which it was said, rather than the content, was more important in establishing a relationship with Teyla and the Athosians.
College football, Ferris wheels, and anything that goes over 200 mph.
The speed thing was rather obvious, and the football made sense, in a macho, American jock kind of way, but the Ferris wheel bit had intrigued Rodney.
He hasn’t ever asked John directly, and John hasn’t ever said. The answer seems to be tied up in John’s childhood, John’s family, and even though the man himself has said - hesitantly, but honestly - that he can ask about “that stuff”, Rodney’s never wanted to ask more than what John gives freely.
Instead, Rodney pictures it for himself - the Ferris wheel isn’t a fast ride and not a particularly exciting one, either, but he imagines the slow swing of the car as it sweeps upward, metal joints squeaking; the smell of popcorn and fried food rising in the heavy summer air; the swoop of his stomach as he crests. But most of all he sees the view: wide open sky, stretching to the limits of the horizon.
For a child already in love with flight, it must be everything he ever wanted, short of sprouting his own wings.
So he can see why John likes Ferris wheels, objectively speaking, and if he ever wants to tell the actual story, the personal story, Rodney will listen. Until then, he can indulge them both with this solar-powered replica.
1. Himself
It took them two weeks to find John. Two weeks of constant searches, little sleep, less progress, useless plans, worthless information, and increasing desperation.
They had tried tracking, technology, negotiating, bribery, a show of force, a show of restraint, and, in perhaps the clearest evidence that Col. Carter is not the trained diplomat that Dr. Weir was, shouting.
Nothing worked.
Sheppard was rescued, in the end, because Rodney refused to let it go down any other way. He did everything he could think of and then some, exhausting all possibilities and then starting again.
He ate when Ronon shoved food at him, slept only when he couldn’t see straight from exhaustion, badgered and intimidated his science team into feats of brilliance none of them would remember clearly afterwards, snapped at anyone who suggested he take a step back.
They found him, but just barely. Too weak even to call out, he could do little more than shift his limbs.
His captors had thrown him into a goddamn oubliette, tossed him broken and bleeding to be forgotten down a dark, damp hole in the ground. No food. No light. No way out.
Ronon had rappelled down and fitted him into a makeshift sling to bring him back up. Rodney was there to greet him as he was hauled onto the floor, relief at Sheppard being alive warring with horror at his condition.
When Sheppard moaned, squirming restlessly under the ministrations of the Marine medic, struggling towards consciousness, Rodney stroked his arm, soothing.
“Rodney?”
“I’m here now, John. You’re safe. I’m here.”
Title: Five Presents Rodney Thought About Giving John for Christmas, and One He Actually Did
Rating: PG-13
Word count: ~1,600
Spoilers: nothing serious, but I do mention The Brotherhood and The Return I.
Summary: Pretty much exactly what the title says.
Disclaimer: If you had yourself a quantum mirror, perhaps you’d find a reality where SG:A belonged to me...alas, this one isn’t it. *pouts*
Author’s Notes: Several weeks ago, I read a newspaper article about gifts for the office. Now, I’ll admit to reading/watching things with an SGA slant, but for this, I didn’t even have to try…all of the “thought about” gifts appeared in the article.
1. USB Missile Launcher
Contrary to popular opinion amongst the civilian staff, Colonel Sheppard did, in fact, have an office. He even spent a rather decent amount of his time there. He didn’t enjoy it, of course, because being in the office meant paperwork and disciplinary actions and requisition forms, which were their own special hell.
When they had been exiled to Earth - those interminably long six weeks - Rodney had noticed that Sheppard kept his SGC office cluttered with distractions. The dartboard, the model planes...
Clearly, the man was bored.
Rodney understood completely - it’s amazing how much time frees up when you don’t have to save the city/planet/galaxy every other day.
On Atlantis, boredom wasn’t exactly a problem. Procrastination, however, was still an art form. And while Rodney could easily see this gift being turned against him, he would pay to see the first time an unsuspecting Lorne walked in with performance reviews only to be hit with foam missiles.
2. IQ Puzzle Erasers
Atlantis was as close to a paperless office as you could get, more from necessity than conscious effort. Rodney wasn’t worried that that would diminish the appeal of his gift.
Ever since the disastrous mission to Dagan, when Sheppard had solved the Brotherhood’s puzzle, Rodney had looked for ways to play with the other man’s mental skills. And yes, Rodney knew it was kind of pathetic, but he wasn’t going to apologize for the fact that intelligence was attractive - and that watching Sheppard do math was just plain hot.
They had worked their way through brain teasers and Sudoku puzzles, found themselves evenly matched at chess, and then one day Rodney - desperate to get Sheppard to stop pestering him in the middle of a very important simulation - tossed Dr. Simpson’s Rubik’s Cube at him.
Rodney had turned back to his laptop, typing rapidly, and only just finished saying, “That should keep you busy for a while” when Sheppard placed it on the table. Solved.
He had set it up again and handed it back to Sheppard, this time watching as the Colonel’s hands flew, spinning and twisting, skillfully manipulating the cube. A minute later he was finished.
Rodney didn’t expect the puzzle cubes to be a serious challenge, but they’d still be fun. And picturing Sheppard’s look of concentration as he fitted it together, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth, deft fingers twisting each piece…well. He couldn’t deny he was looking forward to that.
3. Paper Airplane Page-a-Day Calendar
Sheppard tended to bond with any children they came across in their travels. They were inexplicably attracted to Rodney, too, but he was usually able to shake them off with a minimum of tears (and, unfortunately, bribes of chocolate). The colonel just seemed to get them, the obvious joke being that, deep down, Sheppard was an 8 year-old, too.
Rodney himself had certainly mocked the man on more than one occasion.
He had a memory, though, of an otherwise forgettable mission with nice natives and not much technology. It was after negotiations but before the evening meal, and the team had been invited to explore the village and relax, which meant that Sheppard had been immediately appropriated by the small group of children whom he had enchanted earlier in the day with his skills at their game of not-quite kickball.
When he next saw Sheppard, some two hours later, the cluster of children around him was spellbound, listening to him describe flight as the colonel folded and refolded a sheet of paper, making a basic paper airplane and watching the children copy his movements with their own paper.
Rodney watched Sheppard’s boyish enthusiasm, his simple joy and laughing eyes, as the paper squadron took flight. He couldn’t help but join in, and soon he and Sheppard were trying to recall ever more complex airplane designs - condors, darts, raptors, the interceptor, the stealth wing, others whose names they couldn’t remember or that they made up as they went.
By the time they were interrupted for dinner, the children were breathless with laughter and there were airplanes whizzing everywhere. Rodney caught Sheppard’s eye and for a moment forgot how to breathe. He wanted to say so many things, wanted to say nothing at all, wanted to lean over and press his lips to John’s, to hold on and never let go…
Then that singular, perfect moment passed and the colonel was swept along the path to the pavilion, Rodney following in the children’s wake.
To anyone else, the calendar would be seen as a cool gift - something appropriate to both the pilot and the little boy. But John would know. He would remember.
4. Sarcastic Magic 8 Ball
Everyone knows that Rodney thrives on equal parts caffeine and sarcasm. Or at least, that’s what his minions say. Then again, the newbies also say that he has a contentious relationship with the colonel, which is just absurd.
He and Sheppard argue, certainly, but they don’t fight. Personally, he’s always viewed their banter as some sort of foreplay. Incredibly long, drawn out foreplay, to be sure, but definitely something that fed the undercurrent of tension between them in a good way.
And ever since their friendship gave way to something deeper, something more, the verbal sparring has only gotten better. Needling Sheppard has become a delight, teasing and mockery a sign of affection that the other man is only too happy to shoot right back in Rodney’s direction. Their conversations are littered with subtle barbs and friendly one-upmanship, with digs on each other’s intelligence and skills that somehow still manage to express their confidence and faith in the one they mock, with the near-indecipherable references that comprise their verbal shorthand.
Unfortunately, Rodney can’t always be there when Sheppard needs to be put in his place. To that end, the magic 8 ball will serve to remind the colonel just who, exactly, is the genius around here.
5. Solar Motion Ferris Wheel
Rodney hadn’t been on that first mission to Athos, too busy desperately searching for ways to produce or conserve power. Eventually, though, he’d heard all of the details of that fateful day - including the lighter moments.
It was always surprising to remember that before that day, then-Major Sheppard had never even been through the Stargate, let alone made first contact with the inhabitants of another planet. He’d never even met anyone not from Earth.
Of course his list of hobbies meant nothing to Teyla, at the time, but Sheppard had been right in assuming that the way in which it was said, rather than the content, was more important in establishing a relationship with Teyla and the Athosians.
College football, Ferris wheels, and anything that goes over 200 mph.
The speed thing was rather obvious, and the football made sense, in a macho, American jock kind of way, but the Ferris wheel bit had intrigued Rodney.
He hasn’t ever asked John directly, and John hasn’t ever said. The answer seems to be tied up in John’s childhood, John’s family, and even though the man himself has said - hesitantly, but honestly - that he can ask about “that stuff”, Rodney’s never wanted to ask more than what John gives freely.
Instead, Rodney pictures it for himself - the Ferris wheel isn’t a fast ride and not a particularly exciting one, either, but he imagines the slow swing of the car as it sweeps upward, metal joints squeaking; the smell of popcorn and fried food rising in the heavy summer air; the swoop of his stomach as he crests. But most of all he sees the view: wide open sky, stretching to the limits of the horizon.
For a child already in love with flight, it must be everything he ever wanted, short of sprouting his own wings.
So he can see why John likes Ferris wheels, objectively speaking, and if he ever wants to tell the actual story, the personal story, Rodney will listen. Until then, he can indulge them both with this solar-powered replica.
1. Himself
It took them two weeks to find John. Two weeks of constant searches, little sleep, less progress, useless plans, worthless information, and increasing desperation.
They had tried tracking, technology, negotiating, bribery, a show of force, a show of restraint, and, in perhaps the clearest evidence that Col. Carter is not the trained diplomat that Dr. Weir was, shouting.
Nothing worked.
Sheppard was rescued, in the end, because Rodney refused to let it go down any other way. He did everything he could think of and then some, exhausting all possibilities and then starting again.
He ate when Ronon shoved food at him, slept only when he couldn’t see straight from exhaustion, badgered and intimidated his science team into feats of brilliance none of them would remember clearly afterwards, snapped at anyone who suggested he take a step back.
They found him, but just barely. Too weak even to call out, he could do little more than shift his limbs.
His captors had thrown him into a goddamn oubliette, tossed him broken and bleeding to be forgotten down a dark, damp hole in the ground. No food. No light. No way out.
Ronon had rappelled down and fitted him into a makeshift sling to bring him back up. Rodney was there to greet him as he was hauled onto the floor, relief at Sheppard being alive warring with horror at his condition.
When Sheppard moaned, squirming restlessly under the ministrations of the Marine medic, struggling towards consciousness, Rodney stroked his arm, soothing.
“Rodney?”
“I’m here now, John. You’re safe. I’m here.”