Tongues of Men and Angels (by Mad_Maudlin) (Teen and up)
Show: SGA/SG1
Rec Category: Tok'ra
Characters: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard, past John/Nancy, OC/OC
Categories: slash
Warnings: Nil
Author on LJ: Mad_Maudlin
Author's Website: See the AO3
Link: Tongues of Men and Angels on AO3
Why This Must Be Read: This is probabaly quite well-known, but it hasn't been reccd for 5 years and that was in another category, so as I'm doing Tok'ra and Goa'uld recs I really wanted to include it. It's a marvellous long, plotty, satisfying read, and obviously the fact that I'm reccing it in this category, plus the excerpt below, are both slightly spoilery - but wait, there's more! Lots and lots more. Highly recommended for a great read, lots of John and Rodney snark, and a nice long slow-burning relationship between them.
The next morning John awoke to a soft clicking sound, like glass, and the traces of a dream. He found McKay working inside another bulkhead, creating a small pile of shattered crystal fragments from the wreckage inside. "This thing ever going to fly again?" he asked.
McKay started, bumping his head on the edge of the bulkhead. "Ow! And yes! It may not be able to do anything else, but I'm confident I can get this thing flying again. You see, I am kind of a genius."
"Really? I hadn't noticed." John squirmed a little on his pallet, because he was laying in an uncomfortable position but moving out of it would possibly hurt worse than staying put. McKay glared at him. "What do you want me to do over here?" John protested. "I'm bored."
"I'll find you some string to bat around, shall I?" McKay dropped the broken crystals into a box and stood up, massaging the small of his back with a grimace. True to his word, the scratches on his hands were completely gone. "Or I could just give you some more drugs."
"No, thanks." John reached under his blanket and made his routine check of his wounds, and then the familiar scan of the room, though of course from his position on the ground he couldn't see much. "I'd settle for sitting up for a little while, though."
"Sitting up?" McKay blinked at John like he'd started speaking Japanese. "What do you mean, sitting up?"
"You know. Sitting up instead of laying down," John said.
"Did you miss the part where you were recently almost dead?"
John reminded himself about making a rotten situation worse, but he was also about out of patience with McKay's high-handed lecturing. "If I have to keep laying here any longer, I'm gonna get bed sores," he said, dredging up memories of one too many stints in physical therapy. "Not to mention muscle atrophy, increased risk of blood clots, and some of these wounds might scar and permanently impede my range of motion."
"Oh," McKay said, with another blink, like none of this had even occurred to him. Maybe he'd planned to keep John packed in newspaper until he healed? "Well, um, just...just give a minute."
McKay dragged one of the random boxes over to where John lay, and then created a bulky pile of clothes and blankets and one wadded-up canvas bag that he brought over from all corners of the room. He helped John prop himself up against this arrangement and fussed over it until John glared at him. "I'm good," he declared in as threatening a tone of voice as he could manage.
"Oh, please," McKay said. "If you were left to your own devices you'd have ruptured something by now."
"I thought you had better things to do than play doctor with me," John said.
McKay's face suddenly flushed, and he pulled his hands back sharply. "Yes. Yes, as a matter of fact, I do," he said in a high-pitched voice. "So you just...sit there. Not dying. Right."
John realized what he'd said, and rolled his eyes. "Relax, McKay, you're not exactly my type," he said. Too stocky, not enough hair, slight case of alien infestation, he added in his head. McKay grimaced and went back to his pile of crystals.
Rec Category: Tok'ra
Characters: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard, past John/Nancy, OC/OC
Categories: slash
Warnings: Nil
Author on LJ: Mad_Maudlin
Author's Website: See the AO3
Link: Tongues of Men and Angels on AO3
Why This Must Be Read: This is probabaly quite well-known, but it hasn't been reccd for 5 years and that was in another category, so as I'm doing Tok'ra and Goa'uld recs I really wanted to include it. It's a marvellous long, plotty, satisfying read, and obviously the fact that I'm reccing it in this category, plus the excerpt below, are both slightly spoilery - but wait, there's more! Lots and lots more. Highly recommended for a great read, lots of John and Rodney snark, and a nice long slow-burning relationship between them.
The next morning John awoke to a soft clicking sound, like glass, and the traces of a dream. He found McKay working inside another bulkhead, creating a small pile of shattered crystal fragments from the wreckage inside. "This thing ever going to fly again?" he asked.
McKay started, bumping his head on the edge of the bulkhead. "Ow! And yes! It may not be able to do anything else, but I'm confident I can get this thing flying again. You see, I am kind of a genius."
"Really? I hadn't noticed." John squirmed a little on his pallet, because he was laying in an uncomfortable position but moving out of it would possibly hurt worse than staying put. McKay glared at him. "What do you want me to do over here?" John protested. "I'm bored."
"I'll find you some string to bat around, shall I?" McKay dropped the broken crystals into a box and stood up, massaging the small of his back with a grimace. True to his word, the scratches on his hands were completely gone. "Or I could just give you some more drugs."
"No, thanks." John reached under his blanket and made his routine check of his wounds, and then the familiar scan of the room, though of course from his position on the ground he couldn't see much. "I'd settle for sitting up for a little while, though."
"Sitting up?" McKay blinked at John like he'd started speaking Japanese. "What do you mean, sitting up?"
"You know. Sitting up instead of laying down," John said.
"Did you miss the part where you were recently almost dead?"
John reminded himself about making a rotten situation worse, but he was also about out of patience with McKay's high-handed lecturing. "If I have to keep laying here any longer, I'm gonna get bed sores," he said, dredging up memories of one too many stints in physical therapy. "Not to mention muscle atrophy, increased risk of blood clots, and some of these wounds might scar and permanently impede my range of motion."
"Oh," McKay said, with another blink, like none of this had even occurred to him. Maybe he'd planned to keep John packed in newspaper until he healed? "Well, um, just...just give a minute."
McKay dragged one of the random boxes over to where John lay, and then created a bulky pile of clothes and blankets and one wadded-up canvas bag that he brought over from all corners of the room. He helped John prop himself up against this arrangement and fussed over it until John glared at him. "I'm good," he declared in as threatening a tone of voice as he could manage.
"Oh, please," McKay said. "If you were left to your own devices you'd have ruptured something by now."
"I thought you had better things to do than play doctor with me," John said.
McKay's face suddenly flushed, and he pulled his hands back sharply. "Yes. Yes, as a matter of fact, I do," he said in a high-pitched voice. "So you just...sit there. Not dying. Right."
John realized what he'd said, and rolled his eyes. "Relax, McKay, you're not exactly my type," he said. Too stocky, not enough hair, slight case of alien infestation, he added in his head. McKay grimaced and went back to his pile of crystals.