Annoying Man by danceswithgary (Wish Fulfillment Challenge)
Title: Annoying Man
Author: danceswithgary
Pairing: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Word Count: 1000
Archive: Fine, just let me know
Summary: The things one man has to put up with sometimes.
"I swear that you do this on purpose. Do you think I like typing with one hand? Of course, I specifically configured this laptop so that I can, but that doesn't mean I like having to use it all the damn time. What am I saying? If there's a way to annoy me, you'll find it and use it."
"No, difficult as it may be to believe, I don't want anything to eat right now. Maybe later."
"At least your hand is warm, not like your damn feet. If you'd wear socks like a normal person, instead of walking around the room barefoot all night, then I wouldn't complain so much when you stick them under my thigh when I'm trying to read on the couch. My journals look stupid with all those half-finished notes in the margins. And, do you have any idea how many red pens I found under the cushions the last time I looked?
Of course, if it's not one end, it's the other. Normal people sit next to each other when they're watching DVDs, but not you. No, I have to put up with a rude lapful of hair that always manages to find that one place where my shirt isn't pulled down all the way and I have to spend hours brushing it away from my very sensitive skin. That is, if I even manage to finish watching one of my movies because you can't lay still and you wiggle around until you're breathing on me and I can't sit comfortably anymore and have to give up and go to bed."
"No, I don't need a blanket, but maybe you should warm this one up. He gets cold."
"Don't think I haven't caught on to you using my weak spots to take advantage. Ever since you found out how sensitive my shoulders are, you use it against me all the time. I'm right in the middle of a calculation, and suddenly there are hands squeezing and thumbs pushing into those little dips at the top of my spine and then there's rubbing. If that doesn't force me to shut down before I add two and two and get an imaginary number that will cause alarms to go off everywhere because the system overloads, then there are lips nibbling along the top of my back and the whole breathing thing again and how do you expect me to get anything done then?
Although, that little trick backfires on you if I end up too sensitized, doesn't it? All it takes is one of those breaths hitting the side of my neck in that one stupid spot and every hair on my body tries to migrate to another galaxy, and then I have to get away from you before I start shouting. You think it's so damn hilarious when that happens, you son of a bitch, and you know I can't let you get near me and I twitch for hours unless you push down hard wherever you touch me. Falling out of bed in the middle of the night because you brushed up against me is not nearly as much fun as you think it is, you idiot."
"Coffee? Black, two sugars."
"You'd think they'd know how I take it after all this time. At least the mug will arrive full, not a quarter empty because someone always has to drink some of it before he brings it to my lab. Don't even think that ridiculous excuse of not wanting it to spill ever worked. Even the morons sitting at their workstations pretending not to watch you leaning against my table know perfectly well that you do it so that every time I take a sip it's at the same place you did. To make things worse, you always look at me and lick those lips of yours, and then you deliberately fondle something to make it light up or do tricks, thereby making it impossible for me to stand up in my own damn lab for at least ten minutes after you take your stupid grin and slinky hips out of there.
Sometimes I wonder if you keep a tally of how many times you can embarrass me in one day. Do you give yourself a prize if it hits a certain number or is it weighted based on whether I glare at you, turn red, or almost choke to death because you always time one of your asinine jokes when I'm swallowing? I swear the entire mess spends half their time watching our table and shaking their heads, thinking you're some saint that puts up with me. Of course, they don't catch you stealing my last cookie so you can take it apart and lick the frosting while I'm watching and then put it back together and ask me if I still want it. No, all they see is me grabbing it from you and they think I'm too greedy to share when I open it to lick it myself and then you laugh like a jackass because I fall for it every time."
"All right, fine. Just a few more minutes. Wait!"
"All right, settle down. You know the drill. We've certainly been through this all too many times before, haven't we? You do have this ridiculously foolish habit of running toward the danger, instead of away from it like a sensible person. When are you going to learn that Ancient gene of yours only turns things on and that it doesn't make you invulnerable? So now you're going to be even more dim-witted than usual and attempt to talk when you know you've been on a ventilator and your throat feels as if someone tried to shove a garden hose down it because, hey, that's exactly what they did. At least take one of these ice chips first so that you won't sound like someone sandpapered your vocal cords."
"Me, too. Even when you're being a royal pain in my ass."
***
Notes: Written for iambickilometer's wish in the sga_flashfic Wish Fulfillment Challenge. "Since we're going for guilty pleasures... domestic scenes. Especially if they're bookended by heavy violence/action/other cause for panic. I don't care if it's gen or ship or whatever. BRING ON THE DOMESTICS. 8D" I'm afraid the panic may be implied at best, but I gave it a shot at 'domestic' scenes, and fulfilled a wish of my own for grumpy, caring Rodney.
Standard Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters herein. The characters of Rodney McKay and John Sheppard as well as any supporting characters are the property of their creators and MGM Television/Sony Pictures Television/Associated Production Companies. Any deviation (or deviant behavior) from the originals, however, is mine.
Feedback is both welcome and appreciated.
Author: danceswithgary
Pairing: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Word Count: 1000
Archive: Fine, just let me know
Summary: The things one man has to put up with sometimes.
"I swear that you do this on purpose. Do you think I like typing with one hand? Of course, I specifically configured this laptop so that I can, but that doesn't mean I like having to use it all the damn time. What am I saying? If there's a way to annoy me, you'll find it and use it."
"No, difficult as it may be to believe, I don't want anything to eat right now. Maybe later."
"At least your hand is warm, not like your damn feet. If you'd wear socks like a normal person, instead of walking around the room barefoot all night, then I wouldn't complain so much when you stick them under my thigh when I'm trying to read on the couch. My journals look stupid with all those half-finished notes in the margins. And, do you have any idea how many red pens I found under the cushions the last time I looked?
Of course, if it's not one end, it's the other. Normal people sit next to each other when they're watching DVDs, but not you. No, I have to put up with a rude lapful of hair that always manages to find that one place where my shirt isn't pulled down all the way and I have to spend hours brushing it away from my very sensitive skin. That is, if I even manage to finish watching one of my movies because you can't lay still and you wiggle around until you're breathing on me and I can't sit comfortably anymore and have to give up and go to bed."
"No, I don't need a blanket, but maybe you should warm this one up. He gets cold."
"Don't think I haven't caught on to you using my weak spots to take advantage. Ever since you found out how sensitive my shoulders are, you use it against me all the time. I'm right in the middle of a calculation, and suddenly there are hands squeezing and thumbs pushing into those little dips at the top of my spine and then there's rubbing. If that doesn't force me to shut down before I add two and two and get an imaginary number that will cause alarms to go off everywhere because the system overloads, then there are lips nibbling along the top of my back and the whole breathing thing again and how do you expect me to get anything done then?
Although, that little trick backfires on you if I end up too sensitized, doesn't it? All it takes is one of those breaths hitting the side of my neck in that one stupid spot and every hair on my body tries to migrate to another galaxy, and then I have to get away from you before I start shouting. You think it's so damn hilarious when that happens, you son of a bitch, and you know I can't let you get near me and I twitch for hours unless you push down hard wherever you touch me. Falling out of bed in the middle of the night because you brushed up against me is not nearly as much fun as you think it is, you idiot."
"Coffee? Black, two sugars."
"You'd think they'd know how I take it after all this time. At least the mug will arrive full, not a quarter empty because someone always has to drink some of it before he brings it to my lab. Don't even think that ridiculous excuse of not wanting it to spill ever worked. Even the morons sitting at their workstations pretending not to watch you leaning against my table know perfectly well that you do it so that every time I take a sip it's at the same place you did. To make things worse, you always look at me and lick those lips of yours, and then you deliberately fondle something to make it light up or do tricks, thereby making it impossible for me to stand up in my own damn lab for at least ten minutes after you take your stupid grin and slinky hips out of there.
Sometimes I wonder if you keep a tally of how many times you can embarrass me in one day. Do you give yourself a prize if it hits a certain number or is it weighted based on whether I glare at you, turn red, or almost choke to death because you always time one of your asinine jokes when I'm swallowing? I swear the entire mess spends half their time watching our table and shaking their heads, thinking you're some saint that puts up with me. Of course, they don't catch you stealing my last cookie so you can take it apart and lick the frosting while I'm watching and then put it back together and ask me if I still want it. No, all they see is me grabbing it from you and they think I'm too greedy to share when I open it to lick it myself and then you laugh like a jackass because I fall for it every time."
"All right, fine. Just a few more minutes. Wait!"
"All right, settle down. You know the drill. We've certainly been through this all too many times before, haven't we? You do have this ridiculously foolish habit of running toward the danger, instead of away from it like a sensible person. When are you going to learn that Ancient gene of yours only turns things on and that it doesn't make you invulnerable? So now you're going to be even more dim-witted than usual and attempt to talk when you know you've been on a ventilator and your throat feels as if someone tried to shove a garden hose down it because, hey, that's exactly what they did. At least take one of these ice chips first so that you won't sound like someone sandpapered your vocal cords."
"Me, too. Even when you're being a royal pain in my ass."
***
Notes: Written for iambickilometer's wish in the sga_flashfic Wish Fulfillment Challenge. "Since we're going for guilty pleasures... domestic scenes. Especially if they're bookended by heavy violence/action/other cause for panic. I don't care if it's gen or ship or whatever. BRING ON THE DOMESTICS. 8D" I'm afraid the panic may be implied at best, but I gave it a shot at 'domestic' scenes, and fulfilled a wish of my own for grumpy, caring Rodney.
Standard Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters herein. The characters of Rodney McKay and John Sheppard as well as any supporting characters are the property of their creators and MGM Television/Sony Pictures Television/Associated Production Companies. Any deviation (or deviant behavior) from the originals, however, is mine.
Feedback is both welcome and appreciated.