Fic: SGA: The Difficulty of Letting Sleeping Cats Lie, Checkmate 'verse
Title: The Difficulty of Letting Sleeping Cats Lie
Series: Checkmate 'Verse
Author: Beadattitude
Beta: Unbeta'd. Corrections of grevious hurts done to grammar greatly appreciated. Alsp spelink.
Warnings: Animal transformation fic, schmoop, pre-slash, crack!fic
Spoilers: None
Summary: Rodney tries to convince himself that things aren't all that different while John is in cat form. Also, he can't stop himself from poking a napping John. Because it's funny.
ETA: krysalys has offered a picture of her kitty Spike's portrayal of cat!John napping to illustrate the compelling nature of a fuzzy kitty belly. Also, completely adorable paws! Many thanks!
~~~
It wasn’t like it was a compulsion or anything, but Rodney loved to touch John while he was sleeping, just to hear the funny little warning noise he made.
John was curled up on his lab table inside a box slightly too small for him, one leg draped elegantly over the side and paws covering his eyes. Rodney had dimmed the lights earlier when Radek left for the evening, but John was sleeping too soundly, he supposed, to notice.
He found the little hollow behind John’s ear and scratched lightly.
“mmmmr!”
The noise was not so much a meow as a closed-mouth trill, and required enough air for John’s stomach muscles to contract irritably. How he could express irritation with his abdomen was something of a mystery, but every cat Rodney had ever known could do the same thing.
He tinkered with his computer for a bit, really just winding down for the day, then glanced back over at his sleeping companion.
John was a fantastic cat. Rodney hated to even think of him as the best cat he’d ever had, because, hello, best friend in cat form. He tried to keep that firmly in mind when dealing with John - that one day he’d be human again - but it was difficult, especially when he looked like this. He wasn’t sure if John was cat-like or cat John was human-like, because well, there was some blurring there, but John in this form wasn’t all that different.
More playful, surely. Still preferred to spend most of his time with his team, but was friendly yet slightly reserved with everyone else. Far more affectionate to his friends and a little bit more openly neurotic, which pleased Rodney no end. But nothing that wasn’t already present; just much closer to the surface.
Sheppard seemed pretty happy, most of the time, once they all accepted they’d have to wait out the month, and he and Elizabeth had come to some sort of understanding. His, no, human John carried a lot more tension, everyday. He hid it well most of the time, but Rodney knew. He carried many of the same worries.
They didn’t exactly talk about it, but there were moments, when John let him see the pressure he was under, a shared look, a small sigh or a momentary relaxation of that goofball surfer-boy persona. Rodney might be bad at most people stuff, but he noticed, and more importantly, John let him notice. Not many people got that chance.
Once, crouching in a dank corridor, bullets flying all around them, John had pressed his forehead briefly against the back of Rodney’s shoulder, just for a second, inhaled deeply, turned, and broke cover to engage the shooter. It had been humbling to be given that tiny admission of fear and friendship. It was the kind of trust John was showing him every day as a cat.
John shifted, one paw slipping away from his face. Rodney very gently stroked his exposed cheek ruff, his fur as rich as sandwashed silk. He wondered if John’s hair was this soft.
“mmmmmrt!” John’s stomach was slightly more indignant this time. Rodney smiled. He stroked John’s cheek and neck more firmly.
“brrrrrrt!” John’s head popped up, glaring. He was hilariously sleep disfigured, the fur on his head and the back of his neck all ruffled up by the too-small box.
“It's weird,” Rodney blurted by way of apology, smoothing down the ruffled fur. “I miss you, but in some ways...” He blushed. He hadn’t meant to be quite that candid. "It's going to be even weirder when you change back," he admitted.
John blinked slowly and stretched a paw out to him. Rodney brushed the pads with his finger and John deliberately pressed down, making the contact stronger.
“Yeah,” Rodney replied, gently catching the paw with his thumb and shaking it a little. John batted at him lazily. “I do realize how ridiculous that sounds.”
John yawned and stretched. Rodney heroically did not dive for his exposed and entirely pettable belly. He did have some restraint. And John didn’t like being surprised while he was stretching. He still had the scratches to prove it.
Rising gracefully, John padded over and did a full body lean into Rodney’s shoulder. “Mow?”
“Ready to go home?”
John butted him softly and purred before leaping to the floor. He trotted a few feet and turned, looking over his shoulder. “Prrt?”
“Yes, yes, Mr. Impatient. Don’t think I don’t know you’re rushing to my quarters to rifle through our foodstuffs.” He shut his computer off and walked away without a second glance.
“Maaaar!” John complained, standing in the open doorway.
“Coming, I’m coming,” he groused, because that particular Sheppardian whine was always followed by grousing. It was what they did. He savored the weird, mixed up, happy deja-vu of Sheppard impatiently calling for him to catch up.
That was one thing that hadn’t changed; he'd still follow John pretty much anywhere.
Series: Checkmate 'Verse
Author: Beadattitude
Beta: Unbeta'd. Corrections of grevious hurts done to grammar greatly appreciated. Alsp spelink.
Warnings: Animal transformation fic, schmoop, pre-slash, crack!fic
Spoilers: None
Summary: Rodney tries to convince himself that things aren't all that different while John is in cat form. Also, he can't stop himself from poking a napping John. Because it's funny.
ETA: krysalys has offered a picture of her kitty Spike's portrayal of cat!John napping to illustrate the compelling nature of a fuzzy kitty belly. Also, completely adorable paws! Many thanks!
~~~
It wasn’t like it was a compulsion or anything, but Rodney loved to touch John while he was sleeping, just to hear the funny little warning noise he made.
John was curled up on his lab table inside a box slightly too small for him, one leg draped elegantly over the side and paws covering his eyes. Rodney had dimmed the lights earlier when Radek left for the evening, but John was sleeping too soundly, he supposed, to notice.
He found the little hollow behind John’s ear and scratched lightly.
“mmmmr!”
The noise was not so much a meow as a closed-mouth trill, and required enough air for John’s stomach muscles to contract irritably. How he could express irritation with his abdomen was something of a mystery, but every cat Rodney had ever known could do the same thing.
He tinkered with his computer for a bit, really just winding down for the day, then glanced back over at his sleeping companion.
John was a fantastic cat. Rodney hated to even think of him as the best cat he’d ever had, because, hello, best friend in cat form. He tried to keep that firmly in mind when dealing with John - that one day he’d be human again - but it was difficult, especially when he looked like this. He wasn’t sure if John was cat-like or cat John was human-like, because well, there was some blurring there, but John in this form wasn’t all that different.
More playful, surely. Still preferred to spend most of his time with his team, but was friendly yet slightly reserved with everyone else. Far more affectionate to his friends and a little bit more openly neurotic, which pleased Rodney no end. But nothing that wasn’t already present; just much closer to the surface.
Sheppard seemed pretty happy, most of the time, once they all accepted they’d have to wait out the month, and he and Elizabeth had come to some sort of understanding. His, no, human John carried a lot more tension, everyday. He hid it well most of the time, but Rodney knew. He carried many of the same worries.
They didn’t exactly talk about it, but there were moments, when John let him see the pressure he was under, a shared look, a small sigh or a momentary relaxation of that goofball surfer-boy persona. Rodney might be bad at most people stuff, but he noticed, and more importantly, John let him notice. Not many people got that chance.
Once, crouching in a dank corridor, bullets flying all around them, John had pressed his forehead briefly against the back of Rodney’s shoulder, just for a second, inhaled deeply, turned, and broke cover to engage the shooter. It had been humbling to be given that tiny admission of fear and friendship. It was the kind of trust John was showing him every day as a cat.
John shifted, one paw slipping away from his face. Rodney very gently stroked his exposed cheek ruff, his fur as rich as sandwashed silk. He wondered if John’s hair was this soft.
“mmmmmrt!” John’s stomach was slightly more indignant this time. Rodney smiled. He stroked John’s cheek and neck more firmly.
“brrrrrrt!” John’s head popped up, glaring. He was hilariously sleep disfigured, the fur on his head and the back of his neck all ruffled up by the too-small box.
“It's weird,” Rodney blurted by way of apology, smoothing down the ruffled fur. “I miss you, but in some ways...” He blushed. He hadn’t meant to be quite that candid. "It's going to be even weirder when you change back," he admitted.
John blinked slowly and stretched a paw out to him. Rodney brushed the pads with his finger and John deliberately pressed down, making the contact stronger.
“Yeah,” Rodney replied, gently catching the paw with his thumb and shaking it a little. John batted at him lazily. “I do realize how ridiculous that sounds.”
John yawned and stretched. Rodney heroically did not dive for his exposed and entirely pettable belly. He did have some restraint. And John didn’t like being surprised while he was stretching. He still had the scratches to prove it.
Rising gracefully, John padded over and did a full body lean into Rodney’s shoulder. “Mow?”
“Ready to go home?”
John butted him softly and purred before leaping to the floor. He trotted a few feet and turned, looking over his shoulder. “Prrt?”
“Yes, yes, Mr. Impatient. Don’t think I don’t know you’re rushing to my quarters to rifle through our foodstuffs.” He shut his computer off and walked away without a second glance.
“Maaaar!” John complained, standing in the open doorway.
“Coming, I’m coming,” he groused, because that particular Sheppardian whine was always followed by grousing. It was what they did. He savored the weird, mixed up, happy deja-vu of Sheppard impatiently calling for him to catch up.
That was one thing that hadn’t changed; he'd still follow John pretty much anywhere.