Fic: Conflicted, Checkmate 'Verse Near-the-end snippet, M/S
According to my recent poll, an even dozen people requested to please, please, post this now. That's good enough for me at 2 am.
This is part of a larger story arc set the week before John's return to human form. You may consider it spoilery or heavy foreshadowing. Proceed at own risk.
Title: Conflicted
Series: Checkmate 'Verse
Author: Beadattitude
Pairing: McShep, currently pre-slash
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Animal transformation, angst
Disclaimer: I am playing, happily, with these characters for the love of it, which I do for free.
“I think you should go back to your room,” Rodney blurts.
John looks at him with his ears flattened in the “what the hell was that?” position. Doing this while he’s in the bunny bed with the bunny’s ears in the same position is all kinds of wrong. Especially when Rodney can tell his feelings are hurt.
“Sorry, sorry.” Rodney rubs his hands over his face. “It’s just that…you’re going to change back soon. Like in a few days soon. We don’t know exactly when it will happen, I mean, I probably could work out the time from the rotation of Gata, the orbit of its' moon and the time of when you were changed. Did you happen to notice the time? And okay, the shaman even said it was around a full turn of their moon, the inaccuracy of which could be related to the strength of the user’s ATA gene. But we might be able to figure out a general time frame so you don’t transform, say, in the middle of dinner or…”
“Mrrow,” John says, putting a paw on his wrist.
“Babbling, sorry.”
John stands and stretches, though Rodney can tell it’s kind of perfunctory and stiff. He pads over to sit practically on the keyboard, between Rodney's arms. He looks steadily into Rodney’s eyes, then bumps him in the chest with his head, really leaning into it. Leaping off the desk, he heads for the door, determined but tail drooping.
“You’re just going to go, just like that?” Rodney’s voice cracks with incredulity.
John stops and looks over his shoulder. “Mow?” He answers sadly.
“Oh my god you idiot,” Rodney says, rubbing his face again. “I’m not evicting you. Jesus.”
John sits on the floor, looking mulish, so Rodney goes over and sits in front of him.
“You don’t have to just go. We’ll take your stuff over, whatever you want. And you don’t have to go right now. But I thought you might like to be…alone? When you change? Get your people legs back.”
“Mow,” John says consideringly.
“Be-because you know, I don’t think you’ll be in your uniform,” Rodney says in a rush, blushing furiously.
John just sits there stiffly, looking astonished.
“You cannot tell me, the guy who thinks about the fact that Hermiod wears no pants didn’t think about that.”
John plunks down, sitting on his paws. The small black cloud of grouchiness is practically visible and audible above his head.
Rodney gently stokes his ears in apology. John accepts it with frosty grace.
“I can’t believe you thought I was just going to kick you out like that.”
Without looking at him, John crawls into his lap and resumes his hunched, depressed position.
“Big martyred action hero,” Rodney whispers fondly, stroking his back in long, smooth strokes.
John rests his head on Rodney’s leg and sighs.
“Okay, you big baby, I’ve gotta get up, my back…”
John looks up at him.
“I’m taking you with me when I get up, geez!” He gathers John to his chest and flails himself to his knees and then to a standing position. John hangs on and Rodney very firmly says nothing about his claws.
Rodney walks over to the bed and John jumps down, looking up at him expectantly. Rodney toes off his shoes and lies down beside him. John settles next to his chest, once more in the paws-tucked-under position. He continues to look worried.
“Boy, I’ve really handled this badly, huh?”
John shifts his weight so he’s tucked close to Rodney’s side. Lying his head down on the bed, he relaxes into him, just a little.
Rodney rubs his forehead with this thumb, which he knows is calming. John lifts his chin, and it trembles ever so slightly in bliss.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
“Aat.” John gives a tiny, rusty meow, so small it’s almost a squeak. He keeps his eyes shut.
Rodney moves on to concentrate his caresses behind one ear, stroking the fine, almost feathery fur there. John rolls his head into it, stuttering into a purr and presses against Rodney just a little bit more, rolling slightly on his side.
“You know I’m going to miss you, right? Miss this.” Rodney stops talking as his voice thickens.
John rolls back to his stomach and stands, walking the step or two until their faces are close together. His head is bent and he looks up at Rodney from under his brow, humbly, asking a question that Rodney can’t quite parse.
Rodney leans back a little to look into his face, which is soft and somehow achingly young. It makes his chest hurt.
John leans over and rolls his forehead against Rodney’s. “Aow,” he cries softly, “Aow.”
“Yeah, buddy,” Rodney whispers. “I know.”
John collapses beside him and tucks his face in the space between Rodney’s neck and arm.
Rodney wiggles around enough to be comfortable, and dims the lights, his arm tucked around the small, warm cat. He waits until he’s sure John is sleeping soundly, then slips out to his balcony. His sits in his chair and looks up at the stars, and no matter how stupid it is, he grieves for what he is about to lose.
Read John's POV of this evening, Comfort, set a few hours after this fic.
This is part of a larger story arc set the week before John's return to human form. You may consider it spoilery or heavy foreshadowing. Proceed at own risk.
Title: Conflicted
Series: Checkmate 'Verse
Author: Beadattitude
Pairing: McShep, currently pre-slash
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Animal transformation, angst
Disclaimer: I am playing, happily, with these characters for the love of it, which I do for free.
“I think you should go back to your room,” Rodney blurts.
John looks at him with his ears flattened in the “what the hell was that?” position. Doing this while he’s in the bunny bed with the bunny’s ears in the same position is all kinds of wrong. Especially when Rodney can tell his feelings are hurt.
“Sorry, sorry.” Rodney rubs his hands over his face. “It’s just that…you’re going to change back soon. Like in a few days soon. We don’t know exactly when it will happen, I mean, I probably could work out the time from the rotation of Gata, the orbit of its' moon and the time of when you were changed. Did you happen to notice the time? And okay, the shaman even said it was around a full turn of their moon, the inaccuracy of which could be related to the strength of the user’s ATA gene. But we might be able to figure out a general time frame so you don’t transform, say, in the middle of dinner or…”
“Mrrow,” John says, putting a paw on his wrist.
“Babbling, sorry.”
John stands and stretches, though Rodney can tell it’s kind of perfunctory and stiff. He pads over to sit practically on the keyboard, between Rodney's arms. He looks steadily into Rodney’s eyes, then bumps him in the chest with his head, really leaning into it. Leaping off the desk, he heads for the door, determined but tail drooping.
“You’re just going to go, just like that?” Rodney’s voice cracks with incredulity.
John stops and looks over his shoulder. “Mow?” He answers sadly.
“Oh my god you idiot,” Rodney says, rubbing his face again. “I’m not evicting you. Jesus.”
John sits on the floor, looking mulish, so Rodney goes over and sits in front of him.
“You don’t have to just go. We’ll take your stuff over, whatever you want. And you don’t have to go right now. But I thought you might like to be…alone? When you change? Get your people legs back.”
“Mow,” John says consideringly.
“Be-because you know, I don’t think you’ll be in your uniform,” Rodney says in a rush, blushing furiously.
John just sits there stiffly, looking astonished.
“You cannot tell me, the guy who thinks about the fact that Hermiod wears no pants didn’t think about that.”
John plunks down, sitting on his paws. The small black cloud of grouchiness is practically visible and audible above his head.
Rodney gently stokes his ears in apology. John accepts it with frosty grace.
“I can’t believe you thought I was just going to kick you out like that.”
Without looking at him, John crawls into his lap and resumes his hunched, depressed position.
“Big martyred action hero,” Rodney whispers fondly, stroking his back in long, smooth strokes.
John rests his head on Rodney’s leg and sighs.
“Okay, you big baby, I’ve gotta get up, my back…”
John looks up at him.
“I’m taking you with me when I get up, geez!” He gathers John to his chest and flails himself to his knees and then to a standing position. John hangs on and Rodney very firmly says nothing about his claws.
Rodney walks over to the bed and John jumps down, looking up at him expectantly. Rodney toes off his shoes and lies down beside him. John settles next to his chest, once more in the paws-tucked-under position. He continues to look worried.
“Boy, I’ve really handled this badly, huh?”
John shifts his weight so he’s tucked close to Rodney’s side. Lying his head down on the bed, he relaxes into him, just a little.
Rodney rubs his forehead with this thumb, which he knows is calming. John lifts his chin, and it trembles ever so slightly in bliss.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
“Aat.” John gives a tiny, rusty meow, so small it’s almost a squeak. He keeps his eyes shut.
Rodney moves on to concentrate his caresses behind one ear, stroking the fine, almost feathery fur there. John rolls his head into it, stuttering into a purr and presses against Rodney just a little bit more, rolling slightly on his side.
“You know I’m going to miss you, right? Miss this.” Rodney stops talking as his voice thickens.
John rolls back to his stomach and stands, walking the step or two until their faces are close together. His head is bent and he looks up at Rodney from under his brow, humbly, asking a question that Rodney can’t quite parse.
Rodney leans back a little to look into his face, which is soft and somehow achingly young. It makes his chest hurt.
John leans over and rolls his forehead against Rodney’s. “Aow,” he cries softly, “Aow.”
“Yeah, buddy,” Rodney whispers. “I know.”
John collapses beside him and tucks his face in the space between Rodney’s neck and arm.
Rodney wiggles around enough to be comfortable, and dims the lights, his arm tucked around the small, warm cat. He waits until he’s sure John is sleeping soundly, then slips out to his balcony. His sits in his chair and looks up at the stars, and no matter how stupid it is, he grieves for what he is about to lose.
Read John's POV of this evening, Comfort, set a few hours after this fic.