SGA ficlet "A Kiss is Just a Kiss
A kiss is just a kiss
by Psychofilly
SGA humor, small SG1 crossover.
McShep friendship
Spoilers for Pegasus Project and Irresistable.
“Have I ever kissed McKay?” John slouched a little further down in his chair and smirked at Lt. Colonel Carter. If she thought she could throw him with a question like that she was sadly mistaken.
“Have I ever kissed McKay?” John slouched a little further down in his chair and smirked at Lt. Colonel Carter. If she thought she could throw him with a question like that she was sadly mistaken.
Rodney leaned in close and whispered just loud enough for her to hear, his tone dropping at the end. “Was it--?”
Besides having a perverse sense of humor, Rodney was developing into a damn tease, but he had to admit the way Sam’s eyebrows disappeared under her bangs was funny. John shook his head, “No that was-- I was thinking the first time."
Rodney snorted.
“Hey it was lips on lips so it counts.” John replied.
Teal’cs eyebrow went up this time, “Indeed. Perhaps if you actually told the story we could be the judge of its validity.”
John shrugged, took a sip of his crappy coffee, let the silence build as he rolled the bitter taste over his tongue. He’d become a competent story teller over the last two years. Under the guise of “cultural exchange” he’d traded tales with more two cart villages than he could count, ranging from outlandish exaggerations of Earth and Atlantean culture to simple gossip. Stuck on the Deadalus for the last week and a half with the vaunted Earth team SG-1 as they helped build their intergalactic highway, the strategic and scientific exchanges had eventually boiled down to boredom and a friendly game of truth or dare.
“There was a virus,” Rodney interjected, just as impatient as everyone else.
John elbowed Rodney in the ribs, hard, because there was lots of natural padding there. “Hey, I’m telling the story here.”
Everyone’s gaze fell on him. He shrugged. “There was a virus…”
*****
It took Carson ten minutes to get the explanation out in between fits of coughing. He’d dropped almost ten pounds in the last week. Beside him Elizabeth struggled to stay upright. Her body swayed drunkenly from side to side. John slouched weakly in his chair, imagining that if he watched her long enough he might get seasick. Her already thin frame had gone gaunt, slashes of purple undercut her eyes. Her hair hung limp and listless, instead of the curly mom-helmet that she normally sported.
Cut off from earth, subjected to an unknown and debilitating pathogen, the situation had long since moved past 'really freaking crappy' into ‘ something good has got to happen or else.'
Everybody was sick. Everybody, that is, but Rodney.
At the farthest corner of the table away from everyone else, Rodney sat wearing a rubber suit, gloves, and mask. It was like some weird sort of reverse quarantine.
“I’ve managed to isolate the *cough* dna strands, which we found in Rodney’s saliva. You’ll have to forgive me if my work isn’t up to its usual standards. I’m not sure why as of yet. It could possibly be linked to his hypoglycemia, his allergies, geneology” Carson shrugged. “I just don’t know, but Rodney is immune to the virus and he can actually pass his immunity orally. *cough*” Carson looked around the table apologetically before he proceeded to nearly cough up a lung.
“It’s okay, Carson,” Elizabeth’s normally steely tone sounded rusted out and dry. “Under the circumstances…” She waved her hand dismissively, already running out of volume.
Rodney ripped off the mask and gloves. “Thank you, thank you. If I ever see another haz-mat…” he trailed off, as if he were finally seeing how tired and sick the rest of them looked compared to him. At least he had a shred of decency, John thought. “Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “So,” he got up and wandered over towards the screen currently showing his biological scans. John levered himself up and shuffled after him to get a closer look at the results, as did Carson. “Once again I’m the key to our survival.”
The virus must have slowed John down more than he thought because suddenly Rodney’s hands had a vice like grip on his face, there was a flash of tongue and Rodney’s wide and shiny lips descended upon his. John’s brain registered a few seconds of Mmm, cool… because in comparison to his own fevered state, Rodney’s lips felt like ice chips, then his brain stuttered to life in shocked indignation Tongue! Ew! and he pushed Rodney away.
“The hell?” There might have been three big steps back, lots of sputtering “Ptuey” noises and wiping of his tongue on his sleeve, but the events were a little hazy in his head.
“Rodney!” Carson admonished. “That wasn’t entirely necessary!”
“What?” Rodney said. “You said the cure was in my saliva, right? Ergo it’s vitally necessary to the survival of Atlantis and me, because doing all your jobs on top of my own is a Herculean task that I’m sure nobody besides myself has actually stopped to consider and I’m really, really tired so let me stress once again that it’s vitally important that I swap spit with as many people as absolutely possible before the well runs dry, because cottonmouth is a real danger here!”
He stopped and took a deep breath, then his own thoughts cut him off mid rant. “How long before we’ll know?” Now both he and Carson were giving John scarily speculative looks. “Who do I have to kiss next?” Rodney asked, already moving towards Carson.
Carson stepped back quicker than John had seen him move in a week and held up his hands. “I still have enough of my wits about me to formulate a serum, Rodney. You don’t actually have to kiss anyone.”
With one final swipe at his tongue John looked up and glared at Rodney. “Thanks a lot, pal.”
“Oh please,” Rodney just rolled his eyes. “Give me a break, Major. If the fact that I’ve been up nearly thirty six hours straight has caused a momentary lapse of judgment, well that just --illustrates my point, actually-- I won’t be good to anybody soon. Besides, it wasn’t that bad”
“Speak for yourself,” John said. He studiously ignored the tired but amused faces around him.
Rodney’s lips quirked up, his expression the very definition of smug. “Feeling any better yet, Major?”
Maybe it was his imagination, but he was. “Goddamit.”
*****
Beside John, Rodney chuckled. “Luckily for me I didn’t have to kiss every frog and ugly duckling on Atlantis. Carson made a serum and within a week, the crew was good as new.”
“A little skinnier but no one died... that time,” John said. He flicked his wrist towards Rodney, “And Mr. I’m the key to your survival didn’t end up being the only person left on Atlantis, though he did sleep for nearly three days straight after trying to keep the city running by himself while were all sick and recovering.”
“I don’t want to relive that week any time soon,” Rodney mumbled, staring morosely into his coffee.
“Amen to that,” agreed John. He glanced across the table at Teal’c. The big man looked cheated somehow, as if his story had been lacking in some way. John slouched a little lower in his chair and put on his best fuck off smile. Teal’c had at least a hundred years on them in the story gathering department. They didn’t all have orgy stories or war exploits that could quite compare with some of the weird shit the Jaffa had apparently seen under the Goa’ulds rule. “So, Teal’c- truth or dare?”
“I believe I will choose dare, John Sheppard.”
Mckay perked up almost instantly. "I've got this one, Colonel." He leaned forward, hands dancing in front of him. "I dare you to go into Colonel Mitchell's quaters and--"
John could have argued that McKay was cheating, but who was he to argue with evil genius?
by Psychofilly
SGA humor, small SG1 crossover.
McShep friendship
Spoilers for Pegasus Project and Irresistable.
“Have I ever kissed McKay?” John slouched a little further down in his chair and smirked at Lt. Colonel Carter. If she thought she could throw him with a question like that she was sadly mistaken.
“Have I ever kissed McKay?” John slouched a little further down in his chair and smirked at Lt. Colonel Carter. If she thought she could throw him with a question like that she was sadly mistaken.
Rodney leaned in close and whispered just loud enough for her to hear, his tone dropping at the end. “Was it--?”
Besides having a perverse sense of humor, Rodney was developing into a damn tease, but he had to admit the way Sam’s eyebrows disappeared under her bangs was funny. John shook his head, “No that was-- I was thinking the first time."
Rodney snorted.
“Hey it was lips on lips so it counts.” John replied.
Teal’cs eyebrow went up this time, “Indeed. Perhaps if you actually told the story we could be the judge of its validity.”
John shrugged, took a sip of his crappy coffee, let the silence build as he rolled the bitter taste over his tongue. He’d become a competent story teller over the last two years. Under the guise of “cultural exchange” he’d traded tales with more two cart villages than he could count, ranging from outlandish exaggerations of Earth and Atlantean culture to simple gossip. Stuck on the Deadalus for the last week and a half with the vaunted Earth team SG-1 as they helped build their intergalactic highway, the strategic and scientific exchanges had eventually boiled down to boredom and a friendly game of truth or dare.
“There was a virus,” Rodney interjected, just as impatient as everyone else.
John elbowed Rodney in the ribs, hard, because there was lots of natural padding there. “Hey, I’m telling the story here.”
Everyone’s gaze fell on him. He shrugged. “There was a virus…”
*****
It took Carson ten minutes to get the explanation out in between fits of coughing. He’d dropped almost ten pounds in the last week. Beside him Elizabeth struggled to stay upright. Her body swayed drunkenly from side to side. John slouched weakly in his chair, imagining that if he watched her long enough he might get seasick. Her already thin frame had gone gaunt, slashes of purple undercut her eyes. Her hair hung limp and listless, instead of the curly mom-helmet that she normally sported.
Cut off from earth, subjected to an unknown and debilitating pathogen, the situation had long since moved past 'really freaking crappy' into ‘ something good has got to happen or else.'
Everybody was sick. Everybody, that is, but Rodney.
At the farthest corner of the table away from everyone else, Rodney sat wearing a rubber suit, gloves, and mask. It was like some weird sort of reverse quarantine.
“I’ve managed to isolate the *cough* dna strands, which we found in Rodney’s saliva. You’ll have to forgive me if my work isn’t up to its usual standards. I’m not sure why as of yet. It could possibly be linked to his hypoglycemia, his allergies, geneology” Carson shrugged. “I just don’t know, but Rodney is immune to the virus and he can actually pass his immunity orally. *cough*” Carson looked around the table apologetically before he proceeded to nearly cough up a lung.
“It’s okay, Carson,” Elizabeth’s normally steely tone sounded rusted out and dry. “Under the circumstances…” She waved her hand dismissively, already running out of volume.
Rodney ripped off the mask and gloves. “Thank you, thank you. If I ever see another haz-mat…” he trailed off, as if he were finally seeing how tired and sick the rest of them looked compared to him. At least he had a shred of decency, John thought. “Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “So,” he got up and wandered over towards the screen currently showing his biological scans. John levered himself up and shuffled after him to get a closer look at the results, as did Carson. “Once again I’m the key to our survival.”
The virus must have slowed John down more than he thought because suddenly Rodney’s hands had a vice like grip on his face, there was a flash of tongue and Rodney’s wide and shiny lips descended upon his. John’s brain registered a few seconds of Mmm, cool… because in comparison to his own fevered state, Rodney’s lips felt like ice chips, then his brain stuttered to life in shocked indignation Tongue! Ew! and he pushed Rodney away.
“The hell?” There might have been three big steps back, lots of sputtering “Ptuey” noises and wiping of his tongue on his sleeve, but the events were a little hazy in his head.
“Rodney!” Carson admonished. “That wasn’t entirely necessary!”
“What?” Rodney said. “You said the cure was in my saliva, right? Ergo it’s vitally necessary to the survival of Atlantis and me, because doing all your jobs on top of my own is a Herculean task that I’m sure nobody besides myself has actually stopped to consider and I’m really, really tired so let me stress once again that it’s vitally important that I swap spit with as many people as absolutely possible before the well runs dry, because cottonmouth is a real danger here!”
He stopped and took a deep breath, then his own thoughts cut him off mid rant. “How long before we’ll know?” Now both he and Carson were giving John scarily speculative looks. “Who do I have to kiss next?” Rodney asked, already moving towards Carson.
Carson stepped back quicker than John had seen him move in a week and held up his hands. “I still have enough of my wits about me to formulate a serum, Rodney. You don’t actually have to kiss anyone.”
With one final swipe at his tongue John looked up and glared at Rodney. “Thanks a lot, pal.”
“Oh please,” Rodney just rolled his eyes. “Give me a break, Major. If the fact that I’ve been up nearly thirty six hours straight has caused a momentary lapse of judgment, well that just --illustrates my point, actually-- I won’t be good to anybody soon. Besides, it wasn’t that bad”
“Speak for yourself,” John said. He studiously ignored the tired but amused faces around him.
Rodney’s lips quirked up, his expression the very definition of smug. “Feeling any better yet, Major?”
Maybe it was his imagination, but he was. “Goddamit.”
*****
Beside John, Rodney chuckled. “Luckily for me I didn’t have to kiss every frog and ugly duckling on Atlantis. Carson made a serum and within a week, the crew was good as new.”
“A little skinnier but no one died... that time,” John said. He flicked his wrist towards Rodney, “And Mr. I’m the key to your survival didn’t end up being the only person left on Atlantis, though he did sleep for nearly three days straight after trying to keep the city running by himself while were all sick and recovering.”
“I don’t want to relive that week any time soon,” Rodney mumbled, staring morosely into his coffee.
“Amen to that,” agreed John. He glanced across the table at Teal’c. The big man looked cheated somehow, as if his story had been lacking in some way. John slouched a little lower in his chair and put on his best fuck off smile. Teal’c had at least a hundred years on them in the story gathering department. They didn’t all have orgy stories or war exploits that could quite compare with some of the weird shit the Jaffa had apparently seen under the Goa’ulds rule. “So, Teal’c- truth or dare?”
“I believe I will choose dare, John Sheppard.”
Mckay perked up almost instantly. "I've got this one, Colonel." He leaned forward, hands dancing in front of him. "I dare you to go into Colonel Mitchell's quaters and--"
John could have argued that McKay was cheating, but who was he to argue with evil genius?