[Stargate: Fiction] "That Time They Didn't Even Go on the Mission Because They All Had the Flu" [G]
Title: Five Times SG-22 Didn’t Get Thrown into a Naquadah Mine # (Or, That Time They Didn’t Even Go on the Mission Because They All Had the Flu)
Prompt: writerverse challenge #3, prompt #11 ‘five four times #3’
Word Count: 1,210
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: Stargate SG-1 ( SG-22, original characters)
Pairings (if any): none
Warnings: icky but not graphic descriptions of being sick
Summary: The members of SG-22 all catch a perfectly normal Earth-based virus.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_bookclub
That Time They Didn't Even Go on the Mission Because They All Had the Flu
In another reality, SG-22 were captured by enemy Jaffa the moment they stepped through the ‘gate onto P3X-9985, dragged through two more off-world ‘gates and spent a record-breaking four weeks, six days doing forced labor in a naquadah mine.
In this reality, Marine Gunnery Sergeant Jason Vicks woke up very, very early the morning of their planned mission. For a moment, he just lay in bed, listening to the quiet sounds of the Frat House- it wasn’t really a fraternity house, just a five-bedroom house in the suburbs of Colorado Springs that the four members of SG-22 owned together.
It was still dark out, and the house was quiet. He could hear Tobias snoring faintly in the room next door, and the click, click of Mrs. Entwhistle’s sprinklers in the next yard over.
Vicks shivered suddenly and reached for his bedspread- only to realize it was already tucked around him. Was it supposed to have gotten that cold tonight? Usually, he ended up kicking his blankets onto the floor, even on the nights when Gryffydd went looking for her electric blanket, but at the moment he couldn’t seem to get warm.
He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, then immediately regretted it. His head swam and his stomach lurched. “Oh, let’s not do that again,” he muttered. Vicks tried again, more slowly, but his stomach still didn’t approve- he grabbed the trash can beside his bed, but took a few deep breaths and everything settled.
His first instinct was to stay put, to curl up under the blankets and not come out until he felt better again. But it was quickly overridden. He’d been part of a team too long to keep something like this from people who cared the most about him.
Carefully, Vicks got to his feet, padding down the hallway to the open door of his CO’s room. Gryffydd was an indistinct lump of blankets in the dim light, with one pale arm sticking out. He paused for a moment, leaning against the doorway, but he knew he hadn’t made a sound yet when she stirred.
“Jase?” she asked. “You okay?”
“I’m-” he began, but his stomach finally rebelled and he darted for the master bathroom. He’d never liked being sick, and this felt like everything he’d eaten for the past week was coming back up. Vicks leaned heavily on the edge of the toilet, eyes closed, but opened them again when the light clicked on.
“Not okay, I take it,” said Gryffydd. She filled a paper cup with water and handed it to him. “Spit.”
Vicks took a sip, swished and spat it back out. “Thanks, sir.”
She sat on the edge of the tub, rubbing a soothing hand down his spine. “How long have you felt sick?”
“Only a little while,” he said. “I came to find you right away.”
“Good,” said Gryffydd. “Anything else?”
“Cold,” Vicks muttered. “I-” He shivered suddenly, then heaved again. “Ugh.”
“Cold?” she repeated, and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. “You feel warm. Does it hurt anywhere?”
“Um…” he hedged, then admitted, “Sort of aches everywhere.”
Gryffydd nodded. “Sounds like the flu, Jase. Do you think you can-?”
She broke off as he heaved again, this time with nothing to bring back up. Vicks felt a hand under his arm as she pulled him gently to his feet. “Come on, into bed with you.”
He probably should have protested when she steered him toward her bed, not back to his own room, but Vicks really did feel terrible. He let Gryffydd tuck him under the blankets, but frowned when she placed the bathroom trash can beside the bed.
“Just in case,” she said. “I’m going to go check on-”
“Gryff?” asked Levi, appearing suddenly. He leaned against the doorframe, looking distinctly green around the gills. “Gryff, I don’t…”
He trailed off, eyes wide, and raced for the bathroom.
Vicks managed a smile. “Two down.”
Gryffydd rolled her eyes, but headed after Levi. Vicks closed his eyes, half-listening as she got the sociologist cleaned up. The bed dipped, and he opened them again to find Levi climbing in beside him.
“I don’t feel so good,” Levi muttered. “I’m cold.”
“Yeah, me, too,” Vicks agreed.
By the time Gryffydd had returned from the hall closet with extra blankets, she had Tobias right behind her. “Oh, hey, guys,” he said, his voice sounding muffled. “What’s…ah…ah-CHOO!”
Without a word, he grabbed the box of tissues from Gryffydd’s dresser and slid under the covers on Levi’s other side. “Don’t we have that mission to P3X-9985 today?” he asked, sounding very congested.
“Not anymore,” said Gryffydd. “I’ll call the Mountain.”
Vicks closed his eyes again. The bed shook every time Tobias sneezed, and he could feel Levi inching closer to him. He cracked one eye open. “Just get over here and stay still.”
Levi offered a grateful smile and pressed his back against Vicks’s side. “It’s just that you’re really warm,” he mumbled, “and I’m cold.”
“Right,” Vicks replied.
“…yes, sir,” Gryffydd was saying, on the phone. “Yes, all four of us. You’d better send another team, sir. No, no, Dr. Fraiser doesn’t have to- Yes, sir…”
Vicks tuned her out again and wriggled further under the blankets. It was actually kind of nice having Levi next to him, now that he’d quit squirming, warm despite his protests of being cold, the reassuring presence of a friend when he wasn’t feeling his best..
The bedspread slipped and before he could reach for it, Gryffydd pulled it back over him, still talking on the phone, “…yes, Janet. Nothing serious. Vomiting, chills, Jason’s running a slight fever, Toby keeps sneezing… No, I don’t… Fine, Walter’s got the spare key. Yes, Janet…”
He hadn’t had anyone to look after him when he was sick, medical professionals notwithstanding, since he was a kid and his mom was still alive. Not that his team were overtly caring- after a particularly violent sneeze, Tobias had used up all the tissues, so he threw the balled-up dirty ones across the bed at Gryffydd. Still talking to Janet Fraiser, she grabbed a new box from her closet and lobbed it at his head. Levi gave kind of a full-body shiver and curled up tighter against Vicks’s side. Vicks himself felt suddenly warm, and threw half the blankets back over the sociologist.
“Okay,” said Gryffydd. “Thanks, Janet.”
She ended the call and tossed the phone onto her dresser. “So,” she said. “Janet’s gonna stop by later and see if we… if we…”
She went pale- paler than usual- and darted for the bathroom.
“Oh, hell,” muttered Tobias, scrambling out of bed after her.
They came back a few minutes later, Gryffydd wrapped in a too-large USMC sweatshirt- Vicks’s, of course, since his CO was a notorious clothes-stealer. Tobias pushed Gryffydd into bed, squashed in between him and Levi.
It was quiet for a moment, then Gryffydd said, “You know, one of us is going to have to stop puking long enough to make tea and chicken soup later.”
“Or we could just wait for Janet to get here,” suggested Levi.
Vicks smiled. “Good idea,” he said, before falling back to sleep.
THE END
Current Mood:
tired
Prompt: writerverse challenge #3, prompt #11 ‘five four times #3’
Word Count: 1,210
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: Stargate SG-1 ( SG-22, original characters)
Pairings (if any): none
Warnings: icky but not graphic descriptions of being sick
Summary: The members of SG-22 all catch a perfectly normal Earth-based virus.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_bookclub
That Time They Didn't Even Go on the Mission Because They All Had the Flu
In another reality, SG-22 were captured by enemy Jaffa the moment they stepped through the ‘gate onto P3X-9985, dragged through two more off-world ‘gates and spent a record-breaking four weeks, six days doing forced labor in a naquadah mine.
In this reality, Marine Gunnery Sergeant Jason Vicks woke up very, very early the morning of their planned mission. For a moment, he just lay in bed, listening to the quiet sounds of the Frat House- it wasn’t really a fraternity house, just a five-bedroom house in the suburbs of Colorado Springs that the four members of SG-22 owned together.
It was still dark out, and the house was quiet. He could hear Tobias snoring faintly in the room next door, and the click, click of Mrs. Entwhistle’s sprinklers in the next yard over.
Vicks shivered suddenly and reached for his bedspread- only to realize it was already tucked around him. Was it supposed to have gotten that cold tonight? Usually, he ended up kicking his blankets onto the floor, even on the nights when Gryffydd went looking for her electric blanket, but at the moment he couldn’t seem to get warm.
He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, then immediately regretted it. His head swam and his stomach lurched. “Oh, let’s not do that again,” he muttered. Vicks tried again, more slowly, but his stomach still didn’t approve- he grabbed the trash can beside his bed, but took a few deep breaths and everything settled.
His first instinct was to stay put, to curl up under the blankets and not come out until he felt better again. But it was quickly overridden. He’d been part of a team too long to keep something like this from people who cared the most about him.
Carefully, Vicks got to his feet, padding down the hallway to the open door of his CO’s room. Gryffydd was an indistinct lump of blankets in the dim light, with one pale arm sticking out. He paused for a moment, leaning against the doorway, but he knew he hadn’t made a sound yet when she stirred.
“Jase?” she asked. “You okay?”
“I’m-” he began, but his stomach finally rebelled and he darted for the master bathroom. He’d never liked being sick, and this felt like everything he’d eaten for the past week was coming back up. Vicks leaned heavily on the edge of the toilet, eyes closed, but opened them again when the light clicked on.
“Not okay, I take it,” said Gryffydd. She filled a paper cup with water and handed it to him. “Spit.”
Vicks took a sip, swished and spat it back out. “Thanks, sir.”
She sat on the edge of the tub, rubbing a soothing hand down his spine. “How long have you felt sick?”
“Only a little while,” he said. “I came to find you right away.”
“Good,” said Gryffydd. “Anything else?”
“Cold,” Vicks muttered. “I-” He shivered suddenly, then heaved again. “Ugh.”
“Cold?” she repeated, and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. “You feel warm. Does it hurt anywhere?”
“Um…” he hedged, then admitted, “Sort of aches everywhere.”
Gryffydd nodded. “Sounds like the flu, Jase. Do you think you can-?”
She broke off as he heaved again, this time with nothing to bring back up. Vicks felt a hand under his arm as she pulled him gently to his feet. “Come on, into bed with you.”
He probably should have protested when she steered him toward her bed, not back to his own room, but Vicks really did feel terrible. He let Gryffydd tuck him under the blankets, but frowned when she placed the bathroom trash can beside the bed.
“Just in case,” she said. “I’m going to go check on-”
“Gryff?” asked Levi, appearing suddenly. He leaned against the doorframe, looking distinctly green around the gills. “Gryff, I don’t…”
He trailed off, eyes wide, and raced for the bathroom.
Vicks managed a smile. “Two down.”
Gryffydd rolled her eyes, but headed after Levi. Vicks closed his eyes, half-listening as she got the sociologist cleaned up. The bed dipped, and he opened them again to find Levi climbing in beside him.
“I don’t feel so good,” Levi muttered. “I’m cold.”
“Yeah, me, too,” Vicks agreed.
By the time Gryffydd had returned from the hall closet with extra blankets, she had Tobias right behind her. “Oh, hey, guys,” he said, his voice sounding muffled. “What’s…ah…ah-CHOO!”
Without a word, he grabbed the box of tissues from Gryffydd’s dresser and slid under the covers on Levi’s other side. “Don’t we have that mission to P3X-9985 today?” he asked, sounding very congested.
“Not anymore,” said Gryffydd. “I’ll call the Mountain.”
Vicks closed his eyes again. The bed shook every time Tobias sneezed, and he could feel Levi inching closer to him. He cracked one eye open. “Just get over here and stay still.”
Levi offered a grateful smile and pressed his back against Vicks’s side. “It’s just that you’re really warm,” he mumbled, “and I’m cold.”
“Right,” Vicks replied.
“…yes, sir,” Gryffydd was saying, on the phone. “Yes, all four of us. You’d better send another team, sir. No, no, Dr. Fraiser doesn’t have to- Yes, sir…”
Vicks tuned her out again and wriggled further under the blankets. It was actually kind of nice having Levi next to him, now that he’d quit squirming, warm despite his protests of being cold, the reassuring presence of a friend when he wasn’t feeling his best..
The bedspread slipped and before he could reach for it, Gryffydd pulled it back over him, still talking on the phone, “…yes, Janet. Nothing serious. Vomiting, chills, Jason’s running a slight fever, Toby keeps sneezing… No, I don’t… Fine, Walter’s got the spare key. Yes, Janet…”
He hadn’t had anyone to look after him when he was sick, medical professionals notwithstanding, since he was a kid and his mom was still alive. Not that his team were overtly caring- after a particularly violent sneeze, Tobias had used up all the tissues, so he threw the balled-up dirty ones across the bed at Gryffydd. Still talking to Janet Fraiser, she grabbed a new box from her closet and lobbed it at his head. Levi gave kind of a full-body shiver and curled up tighter against Vicks’s side. Vicks himself felt suddenly warm, and threw half the blankets back over the sociologist.
“Okay,” said Gryffydd. “Thanks, Janet.”
She ended the call and tossed the phone onto her dresser. “So,” she said. “Janet’s gonna stop by later and see if we… if we…”
She went pale- paler than usual- and darted for the bathroom.
“Oh, hell,” muttered Tobias, scrambling out of bed after her.
They came back a few minutes later, Gryffydd wrapped in a too-large USMC sweatshirt- Vicks’s, of course, since his CO was a notorious clothes-stealer. Tobias pushed Gryffydd into bed, squashed in between him and Levi.
It was quiet for a moment, then Gryffydd said, “You know, one of us is going to have to stop puking long enough to make tea and chicken soup later.”
“Or we could just wait for Janet to get here,” suggested Levi.
Vicks smiled. “Good idea,” he said, before falling back to sleep.
THE END
Current Mood:
tired