Drabble for you?
Today I got the results for my Facharbeit -- an exam paper I literally spent months angsting over. I spent about ninety hours on that damn thing, and countless nights of lying awake in bed and freaking out. Let's just say I'd have been annoyed if all that effort had not at least gotten me a good grade. But fortunately, it did -- top grades, in fact
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Set post-Inferno, although I have not seen Allies, which I think is the real post-Inferno, so I may well have been jossed already.
„You -- you owe me!” Rodney said, somewhat drunkenly, stabbing a finger into John’s chest. John didn’t stop grinning for so much as a second, still slouched down on the single chair in his quarters, where he had dragged Rodney to have a little private celebration.
It had seemed wrong to have a real celebration with the Taranians out there, mourning the loss of their planet, and a hive-ship out to get them yet again, but they had survived, and they had saved everyone against incredible odds -- yet again -- and they had a spaceship now, a huge, beautiful, powerful, if currently somewhat damaged spaceship, so John had been adamant that some sort of celebration was in order.
Rodney hadn’t been able to stop looking at John, who was wearing that big grin he saved for shiny new weaponry and things that could reach escape velocity in under three seconds, and who was wonderfully, miraculously alive. So he’d allowed himself to be dragged off, and because the single chair was already occupied by John, he’d sat on John’s bed, even though it felt weird to sit on the bed of another guy, especially one that had starred in a lot of his more inappropriate fantasies. John had made good on his promise of a few bottles of the good Athosian ale, and by now Rodney was a little drunk and a lot convinced that this had to be said.
“I owe you?” John repeated, slowly blinking down at Rodney’s finger, which was still jabbing into his chest a little. They were both a little drunk at this point.
“Yes, you do!” Rodney said, affronted that this wasn’t obvious. “I got you a spaceship! And also, I saved everyone from a fiery death, and you tried to steal the first woman that’s been interested in me in a long time, and also, for a time there I thought you were dead, and I still repaired that ship, under a completely unfair amount of pressure, I might add, and you know what, screw it, at this point the universe owes me big time. The universe owes me blowjobs. And pretty women. And chocolate. And, and, I thought I’d have to leave you behind on that fucking planet, and I thought you were dead.”
He closed his eyes and buried his head in his hands. Fuck, he was drunk. He was pretty sure that he was going to be horribly embarrassed about this tomorrow.
“So, um,” John said tentatively, and Rodney looked up sharply, because John’s just didn’t do tentative. “I can’t help you with the pretty women, and I’m all out of chocolate, but, you know, if you wanted…” and he’s trailing off, the bastard, just when he was about to get to the really, really interesting part.
“I’m. Are you saying -- are you trying to say what I think you’re trying to say? Because if --“ Rodney was stammering, but it didn’t matter, because John was sinking to his knees in front of him, pushing his legs apart and himself between them, and John’s mouth muffled the rest of what Rodney wanted to say.
“Oh. Oh really?” he said instead, when they came up for air, and John grinned, alive and happy and offensively pretty.
“Well, you did give me a spaceship.”
-end-
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