FIC: First Aid (SGA) Sheppard/McKay
Happy birthday, just_like_rogue!
Title: First Aid
Summary: "You could get blood poisoning!" Silly first time fic.
Author: Devil Doll
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay
Rating: PG-13
Website: Fan Fiction I Wrote Yay!
Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis and its characters do not belong to me. Neither does Spider-Man.
Notes: Written for just_like_rogue for her Birthday Challenge, in which she gave a lyric prompt for a 1000 word fic: He promised I would find a little solace and some peace of mind from "weak & powerless" by A Perfect Circle.
Completed: February 3rd, 2006
Posted: February 10th, 2006.
Words: 1,000 and change
The first time John kisses Rodney, Rodney stabs him with his pencil.
Since it's not intentional, John decides to let it slide.
It's one in the morning, and John isn't sure why all of a sudden it's time, but it is. He's been thinking about it for weeks--months--trying to imagine the best place and the best time and the best words, and now all of sudden he's glad he was never able to come up with any of that, because the best plan seems to be no plan. Just a gut feeling, like there's no more waiting left in him, so it's now.
He gets out of bed and gets dressed, and goes to Rodney's room.
Rodney isn't there, which is really, really inconvenient.
He's in a small auxiliary lab three levels down, and he doesn't seem inclined to pack it in for the night, no matter how much John tries to persuade him, with hints that would be the equivalent of dropping an atomic bomb on anyone else. John's trying to be as obvious as he can without being totally obvious, which is probably stupid, because there's no one else here. It's just that ...well, when he got out of bed he was picturing this happening in Rodney's room. So maybe he had a little plan after all.
And maybe another part of the little plan-that's-not-a-plan was that when he was standing here not-so-subtly suggesting to Rodney that the two of them should go be alone somewhere, so they could be alone together so they were together all alone at one in the morning, Rodney would at least, you know, act interested.
He shifts back and forth on his feet and starts to wonder if he misjudged the whole thing. But Rodney said that to him, and Rodney looked at him that way, and then there was the time Rodney touched him in that place. There's just no way he's wrong about this.
Rodney is writing equations out on a pad of paper with his right hand and typing on the laptop with his left, eyes darting from screen to page, and it's an interesting thing to watch, actually. John's mind starts to wander toward the advantages of an ambidextrous, multi-tasking boyfriend, but he can't explore the options until he gets the two of them someplace private.
It's the tip of Rodney's tongue, barely visible between parted lips, that does him in. And, well, screw it, he didn't really know what he was going to say anyway. He grabs Rodney by the shirt and says, "I was going to wait until we got to my room, but ..." and kisses him.
Rodney says, "Ack!" and then he says, "Yes!" and then he tries to grab at John's shoulders, and that's how the pencil ends up in John's arm.
"Ow!" John says, and accidentally bites Rodney's lip in the process. Rodney steps on John's foot, and John almost knees Rodney in the groin, and they break apart, wincing.
This is what happens when you don't plan, John thinks, but he's only mildly surprised their first kiss went haywire. Everything involving Rodney turns into drama sooner or later.
He must look annoyed, because Rodney's face crumples with disappointment. "What the hell was that?" John asks, rubbing his arm.
Rodney stares at him, wide-eyed and freaked, and holds up the pencil, shaking in his fist. "The tip broke off."
And sure enough, the pencil tip is still in John's bicep. A dark little lump just beneath the skin, but at least it's keeping the blood in.
A tiny little wound, not really worth stopping for.
He grabs Rodney's shirt again. "Let's go," he says, dragging him toward the door.
Rodney says, "Yes, yes, good idea. Carson should look at it as soon as possible."
"We're not going to see Carson." John taps the transporter screen.
"You could get blood poisoning!" Rodney says as the door slides open on the hallway that leads to John's quarters.
"If we hurry, I bet we could have sex seven or eight times before I slip into a coma."
That shuts Rodney up.
The first time sex goes better than the first kiss. There's a little bit of drama, but it's the good kind. The "Oh, God, yes, there, oh, God," kind.
John gets poked again, but it sure as hell isn't with a pencil.
He wakes up later to the cold sting of rubbing alcohol on his skin. Rodney's crouched over him in the dark, dabbing a soaked piece of gauze on the pencil wound. He's wearing latex gloves, which John thinks is pretty hilarious, given the variety of bodily fluids they exchanged before falling asleep.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"Saving you from deadly infection."
"It was a pencil."
"It broke the skin. You never know."
John huffs, but submits quietly, until Rodney brings out a tube of antibiotic ointment. "Forget it," he snarls, pulling the covers up.
He's mildly surprised when Rodney actually gives up, and also mildly curious as to where Rodney got the first aid kit. Maybe he carries it with him at all times, but John doesn't know where. Sure as hell wasn't in his pants.
"Fine. See if I care if your arm falls off," Rodney says, pulling off the gloves with a judgmental SNAP! Then he says, "As long as we're awake ..." and then, "That wasn't my plan, I promise!" when John gives him a suspicious look.
He lets Rodney sulk for a few minutes, and then he says, "My arm still stings. I think you should kiss it better."
The ambidextrous thing?
Totally rules.
The next morning, John realizes he underestimated just how sneaky and determined Rodney can be. He should have hidden the ointment.
His arm smells like third grade, which was the year he was smaller than all the other boys, and he spent a lot of time in the nurse's office because he didn't let that stop him.
At least the band-aid has Spider-Man on it. Spider-Man's cool.
The End
And yes, I do consider a Spider-Man band-aid a promise. :p
Title: First Aid
Summary: "You could get blood poisoning!" Silly first time fic.
Author: Devil Doll
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay
Rating: PG-13
Website: Fan Fiction I Wrote Yay!
Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis and its characters do not belong to me. Neither does Spider-Man.
Notes: Written for just_like_rogue for her Birthday Challenge, in which she gave a lyric prompt for a 1000 word fic: He promised I would find a little solace and some peace of mind from "weak & powerless" by A Perfect Circle.
Completed: February 3rd, 2006
Posted: February 10th, 2006.
Words: 1,000 and change
The first time John kisses Rodney, Rodney stabs him with his pencil.
Since it's not intentional, John decides to let it slide.
It's one in the morning, and John isn't sure why all of a sudden it's time, but it is. He's been thinking about it for weeks--months--trying to imagine the best place and the best time and the best words, and now all of sudden he's glad he was never able to come up with any of that, because the best plan seems to be no plan. Just a gut feeling, like there's no more waiting left in him, so it's now.
He gets out of bed and gets dressed, and goes to Rodney's room.
Rodney isn't there, which is really, really inconvenient.
He's in a small auxiliary lab three levels down, and he doesn't seem inclined to pack it in for the night, no matter how much John tries to persuade him, with hints that would be the equivalent of dropping an atomic bomb on anyone else. John's trying to be as obvious as he can without being totally obvious, which is probably stupid, because there's no one else here. It's just that ...well, when he got out of bed he was picturing this happening in Rodney's room. So maybe he had a little plan after all.
And maybe another part of the little plan-that's-not-a-plan was that when he was standing here not-so-subtly suggesting to Rodney that the two of them should go be alone somewhere, so they could be alone together so they were together all alone at one in the morning, Rodney would at least, you know, act interested.
He shifts back and forth on his feet and starts to wonder if he misjudged the whole thing. But Rodney said that to him, and Rodney looked at him that way, and then there was the time Rodney touched him in that place. There's just no way he's wrong about this.
Rodney is writing equations out on a pad of paper with his right hand and typing on the laptop with his left, eyes darting from screen to page, and it's an interesting thing to watch, actually. John's mind starts to wander toward the advantages of an ambidextrous, multi-tasking boyfriend, but he can't explore the options until he gets the two of them someplace private.
It's the tip of Rodney's tongue, barely visible between parted lips, that does him in. And, well, screw it, he didn't really know what he was going to say anyway. He grabs Rodney by the shirt and says, "I was going to wait until we got to my room, but ..." and kisses him.
Rodney says, "Ack!" and then he says, "Yes!" and then he tries to grab at John's shoulders, and that's how the pencil ends up in John's arm.
"Ow!" John says, and accidentally bites Rodney's lip in the process. Rodney steps on John's foot, and John almost knees Rodney in the groin, and they break apart, wincing.
This is what happens when you don't plan, John thinks, but he's only mildly surprised their first kiss went haywire. Everything involving Rodney turns into drama sooner or later.
He must look annoyed, because Rodney's face crumples with disappointment. "What the hell was that?" John asks, rubbing his arm.
Rodney stares at him, wide-eyed and freaked, and holds up the pencil, shaking in his fist. "The tip broke off."
And sure enough, the pencil tip is still in John's bicep. A dark little lump just beneath the skin, but at least it's keeping the blood in.
A tiny little wound, not really worth stopping for.
He grabs Rodney's shirt again. "Let's go," he says, dragging him toward the door.
Rodney says, "Yes, yes, good idea. Carson should look at it as soon as possible."
"We're not going to see Carson." John taps the transporter screen.
"You could get blood poisoning!" Rodney says as the door slides open on the hallway that leads to John's quarters.
"If we hurry, I bet we could have sex seven or eight times before I slip into a coma."
That shuts Rodney up.
The first time sex goes better than the first kiss. There's a little bit of drama, but it's the good kind. The "Oh, God, yes, there, oh, God," kind.
John gets poked again, but it sure as hell isn't with a pencil.
He wakes up later to the cold sting of rubbing alcohol on his skin. Rodney's crouched over him in the dark, dabbing a soaked piece of gauze on the pencil wound. He's wearing latex gloves, which John thinks is pretty hilarious, given the variety of bodily fluids they exchanged before falling asleep.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"Saving you from deadly infection."
"It was a pencil."
"It broke the skin. You never know."
John huffs, but submits quietly, until Rodney brings out a tube of antibiotic ointment. "Forget it," he snarls, pulling the covers up.
He's mildly surprised when Rodney actually gives up, and also mildly curious as to where Rodney got the first aid kit. Maybe he carries it with him at all times, but John doesn't know where. Sure as hell wasn't in his pants.
"Fine. See if I care if your arm falls off," Rodney says, pulling off the gloves with a judgmental SNAP! Then he says, "As long as we're awake ..." and then, "That wasn't my plan, I promise!" when John gives him a suspicious look.
He lets Rodney sulk for a few minutes, and then he says, "My arm still stings. I think you should kiss it better."
The ambidextrous thing?
Totally rules.
The next morning, John realizes he underestimated just how sneaky and determined Rodney can be. He should have hidden the ointment.
His arm smells like third grade, which was the year he was smaller than all the other boys, and he spent a lot of time in the nurse's office because he didn't let that stop him.
At least the band-aid has Spider-Man on it. Spider-Man's cool.
The End
And yes, I do consider a Spider-Man band-aid a promise. :p