Did I mention before that I can dance?
Much to my HP readers' dismay, I am currently penning another SGA fic, now with pudding! and I'm not sure where it's going. There definitely isn't much of a plot. And it'll be short, I think, unless I get some sort of burst of creativity, because there's really only so far I can take a story about Snack Packs, right? I mean, pudding is delicious, no doubt. No doubt at all. But it's not much to base a fic on.
raw snippy:
Rodney’s gaze dropped down to John’s mouth, teeth biting into his lower lip. He seemed sort of expectant, and yeah. He was totally begging, eyes gone all soft and puppyish. It was a good look for him, but John wasn’t buying it.
“Here’s the thing, McKay. I’m not giving you my pudding.”
From puppy to irritated monkey in zero point two seconds. John blocked out everything but the flailing and leant back against the nearest lab table, half-smiling as he spooned up another bite.
He really liked his handshake idea, he thought absently, almost hypnotized by Rodney’s agitated fluttering. Although it would have to be fairly simple. For a doctor, Carson was surprisingly uncoordinated. And finger waggling was always a plus, but kind of ostentatious. He was just settling on a clasp, twist and reverse hand-slap when Rodney stepped quite a bit closer to him and.
“I’ll. I’ll… John.” His voice went slightly husky and John cocked his head, hoping Rodney was finally winding down.
And then the tone, coupled with his last few words - really, the past five minutes of his rant now that he rewound them in his head, and how had John missed that? - nearly knocked the breath out of him, and he asked incredulously, “Wait. Wait, are you honestly trying to trade sexual favors for my Snack Pack?”
On another note, Maude is currently under the knife! My poor baby kitten *pets her* It'll be so sad not having her home tonight. The dogs won't know what to do with themselves.
raw snippy:
Rodney’s gaze dropped down to John’s mouth, teeth biting into his lower lip. He seemed sort of expectant, and yeah. He was totally begging, eyes gone all soft and puppyish. It was a good look for him, but John wasn’t buying it.
“Here’s the thing, McKay. I’m not giving you my pudding.”
From puppy to irritated monkey in zero point two seconds. John blocked out everything but the flailing and leant back against the nearest lab table, half-smiling as he spooned up another bite.
He really liked his handshake idea, he thought absently, almost hypnotized by Rodney’s agitated fluttering. Although it would have to be fairly simple. For a doctor, Carson was surprisingly uncoordinated. And finger waggling was always a plus, but kind of ostentatious. He was just settling on a clasp, twist and reverse hand-slap when Rodney stepped quite a bit closer to him and.
“I’ll. I’ll… John.” His voice went slightly husky and John cocked his head, hoping Rodney was finally winding down.
And then the tone, coupled with his last few words - really, the past five minutes of his rant now that he rewound them in his head, and how had John missed that? - nearly knocked the breath out of him, and he asked incredulously, “Wait. Wait, are you honestly trying to trade sexual favors for my Snack Pack?”
On another note, Maude is currently under the knife! My poor baby kitten *pets her* It'll be so sad not having her home tonight. The dogs won't know what to do with themselves.