SGA ficlet: 'Trouble'
Trouble, SGA, Sheppard/McKay, PG-13, 584 words. For yavannauk, prompt word - trouble. Fluff.
Rodney gets the call at 04.00 hours. He was asleep, dreaming actually, and even though he doesn't recall the details of the dream, he knows it was a good one because he's got that blissful relaxed feeling that comes with a good dream, and now he's gone from happy to pissed in 3.4 seconds, thanks to Sheppard.
Sheppard sounds disturbed over the earpiece, as though he's freaking out but trying not to sound as though he's freaking out, so even though Rodney is thoroughly pissed, he pulls on pants and a teeshirt and runs to Sheppard's room.
The door opens as he approaches, and Rodney dashes straight in, belatedly realizing that maybe he should have exercised a bit of caution. If Sheppard's freaked out, something has to be freaking him out, and Rodney is starting to freak out himself over what that might be.
The lights are all off, but there's enough (very) early morning light coming through the flimsy curtains for Rodney to quickly check that there aren't any Wraith present, or Eratus bugs, or any other obvious problem. Sheppard's sitting slumped on his bed, a white plastic bucket at his feet, but other than the weary set of his shoulders and the bucket, everything looks normal. Rodney's state is rapidly heading back from worried to pissed again, when Sheppard turns around.
He's-
No.
No, that's impossible.
It doesn't matter what galaxy they're in, that's impossible.
Rodney really, really needs an explanation beyond the glaringly obvious.
Sheppard puts his hands on his belly, his distended belly, his distended-like-a-basketball-belly and smiles apologetically at Rodney.
"Sorry to call you, Rodney, but-" He shrugs and looks down at himself, then back up at Rodney.
"What happened?" Rodney manages manfully.
"What happened?" Sheppard repeats, and all pretence at calm is gone from his voice. "You, me and ancient technology, that's what happened."
"But-We couldn't- Not even the Ancients, surely-" Rodney throws his hands up in despair. "I always wear a condom," he shouts, then remembers rooms nearby and things better kept secret and lowers his voice a notch. "This just can't be happening."
"Condoms aren't foolproof," Sheppard counters, head drooping back down, and now Rodney feels like an utter heel, because clearly Sheppard's turned to him, needed his help, and however crazy this situation, Rodney's up to the job. Rodney has to be up to the job, somehow.
He sits down on the bed beside Sheppard, not too close, but close enough, and leans into him a little, shoulder to shoulder.
"We'll get through this," he says in his best reassuring voice, which might possibly be a little bit rusty. "We just need to call Carson, get him to take a look at you. He's not totally incompetent-"
John's shaking against him, and for a horrible moment Rodney thinks he's crying, and that is really way beyond him. That's Teyla's domain, or Elizabeth's or anyone with the right set of chromosomes, not his. If Sheppard's hormonal and crying, Rodney can't be expected to deal. But he looks at Sheppard anyway, trying to dredge up the right words, and Sheppard's not crying, he's laughing. And it's not hysterical, I'm about to become a father laughter, it's juvenile prankish maddening gotcha laughter.
"April fool," Sheppard manages to shout through his howls of laughter, and then through the pillow that Rodney picks up to smother the cocky bastard, because really, how was Rodney supposed to remember what day it was at this time in the morning?
trouble n 6: an unwanted pregnancy.
Rodney gets the call at 04.00 hours. He was asleep, dreaming actually, and even though he doesn't recall the details of the dream, he knows it was a good one because he's got that blissful relaxed feeling that comes with a good dream, and now he's gone from happy to pissed in 3.4 seconds, thanks to Sheppard.
Sheppard sounds disturbed over the earpiece, as though he's freaking out but trying not to sound as though he's freaking out, so even though Rodney is thoroughly pissed, he pulls on pants and a teeshirt and runs to Sheppard's room.
The door opens as he approaches, and Rodney dashes straight in, belatedly realizing that maybe he should have exercised a bit of caution. If Sheppard's freaked out, something has to be freaking him out, and Rodney is starting to freak out himself over what that might be.
The lights are all off, but there's enough (very) early morning light coming through the flimsy curtains for Rodney to quickly check that there aren't any Wraith present, or Eratus bugs, or any other obvious problem. Sheppard's sitting slumped on his bed, a white plastic bucket at his feet, but other than the weary set of his shoulders and the bucket, everything looks normal. Rodney's state is rapidly heading back from worried to pissed again, when Sheppard turns around.
He's-
No.
No, that's impossible.
It doesn't matter what galaxy they're in, that's impossible.
Rodney really, really needs an explanation beyond the glaringly obvious.
Sheppard puts his hands on his belly, his distended belly, his distended-like-a-basketball-belly and smiles apologetically at Rodney.
"Sorry to call you, Rodney, but-" He shrugs and looks down at himself, then back up at Rodney.
"What happened?" Rodney manages manfully.
"What happened?" Sheppard repeats, and all pretence at calm is gone from his voice. "You, me and ancient technology, that's what happened."
"But-We couldn't- Not even the Ancients, surely-" Rodney throws his hands up in despair. "I always wear a condom," he shouts, then remembers rooms nearby and things better kept secret and lowers his voice a notch. "This just can't be happening."
"Condoms aren't foolproof," Sheppard counters, head drooping back down, and now Rodney feels like an utter heel, because clearly Sheppard's turned to him, needed his help, and however crazy this situation, Rodney's up to the job. Rodney has to be up to the job, somehow.
He sits down on the bed beside Sheppard, not too close, but close enough, and leans into him a little, shoulder to shoulder.
"We'll get through this," he says in his best reassuring voice, which might possibly be a little bit rusty. "We just need to call Carson, get him to take a look at you. He's not totally incompetent-"
John's shaking against him, and for a horrible moment Rodney thinks he's crying, and that is really way beyond him. That's Teyla's domain, or Elizabeth's or anyone with the right set of chromosomes, not his. If Sheppard's hormonal and crying, Rodney can't be expected to deal. But he looks at Sheppard anyway, trying to dredge up the right words, and Sheppard's not crying, he's laughing. And it's not hysterical, I'm about to become a father laughter, it's juvenile prankish maddening gotcha laughter.
"April fool," Sheppard manages to shout through his howls of laughter, and then through the pillow that Rodney picks up to smother the cocky bastard, because really, how was Rodney supposed to remember what day it was at this time in the morning?
trouble n 6: an unwanted pregnancy.