Timestamp meme
To make up for insufficient cuddling in the last story -- here are a couple of afterwards -- err, from completely different stories, and now that I look at them, with not all that much cuddling either. Rats. May be more hope for the other requests, which I'm working on in my own glacial way.
SGA: Indulgent afterward to The Red Door.
The Red Door
(One week later)
In Rodney's dream, Pompsukos was holding a fat, ugly gun like the ones the Genii used, and when Rodney held up his hands in surrender, his palms were red with blood.
"Rodney, don't do this," Zelenka was saying from behind him. "You know you will die."
And that was the thing, Rodney decided. He really couldn't believe Pompsokos was that bad a scientist. Electroplating Ancient molecules to his neurons? lt wasn't just reckless and stupid, it was bad, bad science.
"Listen to me," Rodney said, trying to sound calm and logical. "I'm fairly certain there are better ways to test your theorum than by killing me."
"But they would lack the not-inconsiderable advantage of shutting you up," said the man behind the gun, and it wasn't Pompsukos threatening him, but Kolya, and everything suddenly made a lot more sense, just not in a good way. Rain was pouring down, washing the blood from his hands and frothing in sheets across the floor. "Dr. Weir is already dead," Kolya continued, sleek and pleased with himself. "This sacrifice serves no purpose. Except, perhaps, to entertain me."
"God damn you, " Rodney growled, his voice hurting his throat. ''Damn you to hell,"
"Yes, yes," Kolya agreed, amused. The bloody tide splashed against the toes of Kolya's boots, and Rodney would not be mocked by this monster, he would not. With a sudden, violent wrench he was pulling Atlantis whole from the pink tide, flinging her spires skyward, and though it hurt like dying it was worth it to see Kolya turn as pale as the rain
And then Kolya said, "Easy there, tiger," and Rodney's eyes snapped open. No rain, no Genii maniacs. Only John, trying to pull something out of Rodney's hands.
Waking was hard. Rodney held on tight, reluctant to let go.
"You were dreaming," John said. "Sounds like it was a doozy, too."
"Kolya," Rodney said, and something crossed John's face that Rodney couldn't watch. He dropped his gaze to his hands and saw he was clutching Radek's sleepwalking alarm.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded irritably, although he already knew.
Before John could answer, the door to his quarters opened. A sleep-rumpled Radek stood there. "Rodney," he said. "John. It looks like you have everything under control." He came into the room anyway and pulled his alarm from Rodney's nerveless fingers.
"I was sleepwalking again," Rodney said dully. He felt his shoulders sag.
"Apparently you were trying to," Radek agreed calmly. He turned the device over in his hands. "A good thing I wired the alarm to wake you and I up, too," he said to John, "Rodney was most of the way through the casing."
And there was nothing more infuriating than being talked about like he wasn't sitting right here. "I don't believe this!" Rodney snapped. "Am I going to have to go to sleep with hobbles around my ankles for the rest of my life?"
"I don't believe so," Radek answered, perfectly calm, perfectly serious. "It's been more than a week since the last time, hasn't it?"
"I'm sorry, but did I somehow miss that part of your vita where you also had a medical degree?
"Carson thinks you're continuing to improve, too," John put in, and really, that was just the last straw. Rodney threw up his hands.
"Oh, wonderful, thank you. Carson thinks I'll get better on my own at this point, which is a damn good thing considering it will be months before we can even think about using the garden room again."
"Ah -- yes," Radek said carefully "That is wonderful, I agree."
John was smirking at him, and it occurred to Rodney that he had somehow lost track of his anger well before he was ready to stop being mad. "God damn Pompsukos and his idiot wraith-proofing device . I hate him and by the way, I also hate the Wraith, not that I'm letting Pompsukos off the hook here."
"No argument from me," John said, but Rodney wasn't in the mood for agreement. He didn't resist when Radek sat on the bed and pulled Rodney's head down to rest on his thigh, but only because he was busy making his point.
"Actually, I hate this entire fucked up galaxy. And I hate the Ancients who just turned tail and ran when things got complicated, and let's see, that would be because of their own monumental incompetence, wouldn't it? Care to explain to me how running off to the Milky Way, much less ascension, actually solves anything? "
"Not me," John said mildly. He slid off the mattress to sit on the floor, leaning his head warmly against Rodney's hip.
"And I hate this stupid, complicated, dangerous city they left behind most of all, and I wish you both would go back to your quarters because I think I probably hate you right now, too."
"All right," Radek said without moving a muscle.
"Going," John lied agreeably, and turned out the light.
SGA: Really indulgent afterward to Moka,
~~~
Moka Epilogue
(Five Days Later)
John came awake in an instant, eyes wide open in the darkness, groping for his firearm.
"You have a problem with a little light in here?" came Rodney's voice, grumbling and annoyed.
"What are you doing here?" John demanded, but he turned on the light. Rodney was standing a few feet in from John's door, his arms inexplicably filled with coffee-making supplies. "It's the middle of the night."
"A little after one o'clock," Rodney corrected irritably, as though John were somehow in the wrong. "Radek has finally lost his mind, I'm sorry to say. I suppose it was inevitable given his background. Probably never had fresh vegetables as a child. That's got to have deleterious long-term effects." As he spoke, he was bustling over to John's desk, where he closed John's laptop and put it on aside on his dresser, and proceeded to set up the little bunson burner he used with Dr. Zelenka's moka pot. He poured bottled water carefully into the pot itself, and then proceeded to shake ground coffee into the upper receptacle with the care of a coke fiend measuring his stash.
"McKay, what are you doing?"
"I told you. Radek's lost his marbles. Porch light's on but nobody's home. One jablečný závin short of a happy meal. We probably shouldn't let him near the jumpers unsupervised."
"McKay--" A bright blue flame was licking the underside of the moka pot. "Can you explain to me why you woke me up to brew a pot of coffee in my quarters at oh-one hundred hours?"
"Are you even listening to me? Radek has started roasting the beans from the Night People to a full city plus--even a French roast! That lunatic has got to be stopped."
"Please tell me you're joking. This is about coffee?"
"He claims the cup has the velvety body and chocolate roast taste of a Mgongo Bourbon at roasts that dark. Next thing you know he'll be probably be making espresso with the Night People's coffee beans."
John still hadn't figured out what the problem was. "Is he stealing your coffee?" That really didn't sound like Zelenka. "What did you do to him?"
"What are you talking about? Aren't you awake? Come on. Chop chop." Rodney sat down hard on the end of John's bed and bounced energetically a couple of times. "I thought you military types were instantly wide awake.
Deep breaths. Finally John managed to ask in a very calm, very level voice, "Why do you care what Dr. Zelenka does with his own coffee beans?"
"Because he's wrong!" Rodney popped up from John's bed to check the progress of the pot. Apparently satisfied, he turned off the flame and filled the mug he'd brought with him. Back to John's bed, where he sat down beside John this time and held it out.
John took the syrup-strong black brew cautiously. This late at night, a hit of caffeine would probably keep him up till dawn. "McKay--" John started, but Rodney was watching so earnestly, and the bruise under his chin had faded to a pale green shadow, bisected by the angry pink scar he would probably carry for the rest of his life.
John took a cautious sip of coffee. Black, no sugar. It was a little like slamming his sleeping tastebuds into a coffee-flavored wall. He sputtered, but managed not to choke. "Well?" Rodney demanded instantly.
"Give me a minute!" John regarded the mug carefully. Another taste wouldn't kill him.
He slurped the fierce black liquid through his teeth, and the second taste was better. Still so strong it made him shake, but this time was actually aware of the flavor.
"Yes?" McKay pounced. "And?"
"I don't know. It's all right, I guess."
"Huh." Mckay didn't sound angry, just surprised by unexpected data. He took the cup back from John.
Emboldened John added, "Kind of strong though."
"Of course it's strong; I brewed it in a moka pot." he said distractedly, the taste of the coffee clearly more interesting than John's idiocy. He sipped the coffee himself. "Huh," he said again. John watched the bob of his Adam's apple too closely, and Rodney raised his eyes and caught him at it.
John averted his eyes as Rodney lifted the hand reflexively and covered the bruised scar. "You know it's healing," Rodney said. "So you're not going to suddenly get all wierd on me again, are you?"
"No," John said, a little faintly, "No more wierdness."
"Because we've already covered everything that needs to be said." John nodded and Rodney eyed him carefully. "All right, then." he patted John's leg through the blanket and stood up. "You're wrong about Radek's coffee, though." He left with the coffee cup, abandoning all the other supplies in a jumble on John's desk.
As if, John thought, Rodney expected to be back soon. It wasn't an unpleasant thought. Turning out the light, he stretched out again in bed. He could still feel the warmth of McKay's hand through the sheet. The coffee was thrumming through his head like a song.
(five years later)
The morning sun picked out lines in the corners of Rodney's closed eyes. John stopped beside their bed and set down his cup. Rodney's forehead was higher than it had been at their first meeting, but still milky white. The veins were deep and blue. He still carried a faint puckered scar to the side of his larynx . John knelt down and pressed a soft kiss to Rodney's temple, lingering to feel his sleeping warmth and the gentle lub of his pulse.
Rodney's eyes blinked open.
"Morning." John smiled. "I brought you a cup of coffee."
SGA: Indulgent afterward to The Red Door.
The Red Door
(One week later)
In Rodney's dream, Pompsukos was holding a fat, ugly gun like the ones the Genii used, and when Rodney held up his hands in surrender, his palms were red with blood.
"Rodney, don't do this," Zelenka was saying from behind him. "You know you will die."
And that was the thing, Rodney decided. He really couldn't believe Pompsokos was that bad a scientist. Electroplating Ancient molecules to his neurons? lt wasn't just reckless and stupid, it was bad, bad science.
"Listen to me," Rodney said, trying to sound calm and logical. "I'm fairly certain there are better ways to test your theorum than by killing me."
"But they would lack the not-inconsiderable advantage of shutting you up," said the man behind the gun, and it wasn't Pompsukos threatening him, but Kolya, and everything suddenly made a lot more sense, just not in a good way. Rain was pouring down, washing the blood from his hands and frothing in sheets across the floor. "Dr. Weir is already dead," Kolya continued, sleek and pleased with himself. "This sacrifice serves no purpose. Except, perhaps, to entertain me."
"God damn you, " Rodney growled, his voice hurting his throat. ''Damn you to hell,"
"Yes, yes," Kolya agreed, amused. The bloody tide splashed against the toes of Kolya's boots, and Rodney would not be mocked by this monster, he would not. With a sudden, violent wrench he was pulling Atlantis whole from the pink tide, flinging her spires skyward, and though it hurt like dying it was worth it to see Kolya turn as pale as the rain
And then Kolya said, "Easy there, tiger," and Rodney's eyes snapped open. No rain, no Genii maniacs. Only John, trying to pull something out of Rodney's hands.
Waking was hard. Rodney held on tight, reluctant to let go.
"You were dreaming," John said. "Sounds like it was a doozy, too."
"Kolya," Rodney said, and something crossed John's face that Rodney couldn't watch. He dropped his gaze to his hands and saw he was clutching Radek's sleepwalking alarm.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded irritably, although he already knew.
Before John could answer, the door to his quarters opened. A sleep-rumpled Radek stood there. "Rodney," he said. "John. It looks like you have everything under control." He came into the room anyway and pulled his alarm from Rodney's nerveless fingers.
"I was sleepwalking again," Rodney said dully. He felt his shoulders sag.
"Apparently you were trying to," Radek agreed calmly. He turned the device over in his hands. "A good thing I wired the alarm to wake you and I up, too," he said to John, "Rodney was most of the way through the casing."
And there was nothing more infuriating than being talked about like he wasn't sitting right here. "I don't believe this!" Rodney snapped. "Am I going to have to go to sleep with hobbles around my ankles for the rest of my life?"
"I don't believe so," Radek answered, perfectly calm, perfectly serious. "It's been more than a week since the last time, hasn't it?"
"I'm sorry, but did I somehow miss that part of your vita where you also had a medical degree?
"Carson thinks you're continuing to improve, too," John put in, and really, that was just the last straw. Rodney threw up his hands.
"Oh, wonderful, thank you. Carson thinks I'll get better on my own at this point, which is a damn good thing considering it will be months before we can even think about using the garden room again."
"Ah -- yes," Radek said carefully "That is wonderful, I agree."
John was smirking at him, and it occurred to Rodney that he had somehow lost track of his anger well before he was ready to stop being mad. "God damn Pompsukos and his idiot wraith-proofing device . I hate him and by the way, I also hate the Wraith, not that I'm letting Pompsukos off the hook here."
"No argument from me," John said, but Rodney wasn't in the mood for agreement. He didn't resist when Radek sat on the bed and pulled Rodney's head down to rest on his thigh, but only because he was busy making his point.
"Actually, I hate this entire fucked up galaxy. And I hate the Ancients who just turned tail and ran when things got complicated, and let's see, that would be because of their own monumental incompetence, wouldn't it? Care to explain to me how running off to the Milky Way, much less ascension, actually solves anything? "
"Not me," John said mildly. He slid off the mattress to sit on the floor, leaning his head warmly against Rodney's hip.
"And I hate this stupid, complicated, dangerous city they left behind most of all, and I wish you both would go back to your quarters because I think I probably hate you right now, too."
"All right," Radek said without moving a muscle.
"Going," John lied agreeably, and turned out the light.
SGA: Really indulgent afterward to Moka,
~~~
Moka Epilogue
(Five Days Later)
John came awake in an instant, eyes wide open in the darkness, groping for his firearm.
"You have a problem with a little light in here?" came Rodney's voice, grumbling and annoyed.
"What are you doing here?" John demanded, but he turned on the light. Rodney was standing a few feet in from John's door, his arms inexplicably filled with coffee-making supplies. "It's the middle of the night."
"A little after one o'clock," Rodney corrected irritably, as though John were somehow in the wrong. "Radek has finally lost his mind, I'm sorry to say. I suppose it was inevitable given his background. Probably never had fresh vegetables as a child. That's got to have deleterious long-term effects." As he spoke, he was bustling over to John's desk, where he closed John's laptop and put it on aside on his dresser, and proceeded to set up the little bunson burner he used with Dr. Zelenka's moka pot. He poured bottled water carefully into the pot itself, and then proceeded to shake ground coffee into the upper receptacle with the care of a coke fiend measuring his stash.
"McKay, what are you doing?"
"I told you. Radek's lost his marbles. Porch light's on but nobody's home. One jablečný závin short of a happy meal. We probably shouldn't let him near the jumpers unsupervised."
"McKay--" A bright blue flame was licking the underside of the moka pot. "Can you explain to me why you woke me up to brew a pot of coffee in my quarters at oh-one hundred hours?"
"Are you even listening to me? Radek has started roasting the beans from the Night People to a full city plus--even a French roast! That lunatic has got to be stopped."
"Please tell me you're joking. This is about coffee?"
"He claims the cup has the velvety body and chocolate roast taste of a Mgongo Bourbon at roasts that dark. Next thing you know he'll be probably be making espresso with the Night People's coffee beans."
John still hadn't figured out what the problem was. "Is he stealing your coffee?" That really didn't sound like Zelenka. "What did you do to him?"
"What are you talking about? Aren't you awake? Come on. Chop chop." Rodney sat down hard on the end of John's bed and bounced energetically a couple of times. "I thought you military types were instantly wide awake.
Deep breaths. Finally John managed to ask in a very calm, very level voice, "Why do you care what Dr. Zelenka does with his own coffee beans?"
"Because he's wrong!" Rodney popped up from John's bed to check the progress of the pot. Apparently satisfied, he turned off the flame and filled the mug he'd brought with him. Back to John's bed, where he sat down beside John this time and held it out.
John took the syrup-strong black brew cautiously. This late at night, a hit of caffeine would probably keep him up till dawn. "McKay--" John started, but Rodney was watching so earnestly, and the bruise under his chin had faded to a pale green shadow, bisected by the angry pink scar he would probably carry for the rest of his life.
John took a cautious sip of coffee. Black, no sugar. It was a little like slamming his sleeping tastebuds into a coffee-flavored wall. He sputtered, but managed not to choke. "Well?" Rodney demanded instantly.
"Give me a minute!" John regarded the mug carefully. Another taste wouldn't kill him.
He slurped the fierce black liquid through his teeth, and the second taste was better. Still so strong it made him shake, but this time was actually aware of the flavor.
"Yes?" McKay pounced. "And?"
"I don't know. It's all right, I guess."
"Huh." Mckay didn't sound angry, just surprised by unexpected data. He took the cup back from John.
Emboldened John added, "Kind of strong though."
"Of course it's strong; I brewed it in a moka pot." he said distractedly, the taste of the coffee clearly more interesting than John's idiocy. He sipped the coffee himself. "Huh," he said again. John watched the bob of his Adam's apple too closely, and Rodney raised his eyes and caught him at it.
John averted his eyes as Rodney lifted the hand reflexively and covered the bruised scar. "You know it's healing," Rodney said. "So you're not going to suddenly get all wierd on me again, are you?"
"No," John said, a little faintly, "No more wierdness."
"Because we've already covered everything that needs to be said." John nodded and Rodney eyed him carefully. "All right, then." he patted John's leg through the blanket and stood up. "You're wrong about Radek's coffee, though." He left with the coffee cup, abandoning all the other supplies in a jumble on John's desk.
As if, John thought, Rodney expected to be back soon. It wasn't an unpleasant thought. Turning out the light, he stretched out again in bed. He could still feel the warmth of McKay's hand through the sheet. The coffee was thrumming through his head like a song.
(five years later)
The morning sun picked out lines in the corners of Rodney's closed eyes. John stopped beside their bed and set down his cup. Rodney's forehead was higher than it had been at their first meeting, but still milky white. The veins were deep and blue. He still carried a faint puckered scar to the side of his larynx . John knelt down and pressed a soft kiss to Rodney's temple, lingering to feel his sleeping warmth and the gentle lub of his pulse.
Rodney's eyes blinked open.
"Morning." John smiled. "I brought you a cup of coffee."