By Popular Demand: Male Enhancement 8 B
I say, what dead WIP?
In which John is not an android, but Rodney panics nevertheless.
( Previous parts)
~~~
Rodney pushed the door open, trying not to drop the grocery bags as he pocketed the keys. There had been a letter from Jeannie in the mail; probably yet another drawing from Madison. He didn't think Jeannie was still feeling guilty about insinuating he could only score a guy as hot as John if he paid for it, but over the last four years, she'd been trying hard to stay in touch, like a family should.
Rodney hadn't been sure what to make of that, even as the drawings she kept enclosing progressed from crayons to watercolour, but John had told him not to overthink everything and just go with it, so Rodney had.
John's smile had been worth it.
"John?" Rodney called, setting the bags down on the kitchen counter. It was well within the realm of possibility that he'd permanently sprained his back by hauling everything John had put on the shopping list, but tomorrow most of it would be turned into Rodney's birthday dinner and a moist, spongy birthday cake, so Rodney wasn't going to complain. Much. Otherwise there might be a re-enactment of the Great Cooking Embargo of September 2010, which, just, no. Rodney had gotten used to John spoiling him with good food, and he was a genius. Learning from experience was what he did.
"John," he called again, leaving the bags on the counter to go look for his errant housemate. Being greeted with a kiss by the door - a habit that more often than not turned into something that lasted at least half an hour and left stains on the carpet - was something else Rodney had gotten used to. He might even give up the good coffee if it ever came to a decision between that and kissing John; not that John needed to know that particular detail. He probably did, anyway… John was sneaky like that.
The kitchen was empty, as was the living room, and Rodney was about to check out the bathroom when he noticed that the answering machine was blinking. Shrugging, he pressed the button.
"Dr. McKay," the message began, "this is Barbara Arnold from St. Francis Medical Center," and Rodney swallowed against his suddenly dry throat. He took a deep breath to undo the ridiculous clench of nervousness in his gut. There was a perfectly reasonable explanation for a hospital to call him. He'd donated to charities before; they probably just wanted their slice of the tempting, delicious cake that was Rodney McKay's bank account. There was no reason to…
"You're listed as the emergency contact for John Sheppard," the message went on, professional and merciless, but Rodney didn't hear the rest. His knees gave out without warning and he sat down hard on the floor, missing the sofa by several feet.
"Oh no," he breathed, shaking his head in automatic denial because this couldn't be happening; it was his birthday tomorrow, for God's sake, "no, no, no, John."
Rodney swallowed, heart pounding in his throat at a pace so fast it sickened him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down. Then he stood up, walked back into the kitchen, grabbed his keys from the counter, and made his way to the door, leaving the grocery bags behind. John got pissed when the frozen vegetables thawed partially and then clumped together in the freezer, and that was one argument Rodney counted on having again.
Because John would be fine. Everything was going to be just fine.
~~~
"I'm sorry, sir," the nurse said again, in a voice that made it very clear she wasn't sorry at all. "That information is confidential."
Rodney gritted his teeth. "I'm not asking you to show me his x-rays. I just want to know how he is."
He'd made it to the hospital on autopilot, barely paying any attention to traffic as he tried not to panic. Finding the emergency room had been easy enough, and he'd gripped the edge of the information desk hard enough to make his fingers hurt as he asked for John.
That was when the fun had started.
"You'll have to take that up with the doctor," the nurse said, and popped a strip of chewing gum into her mouth.
"Fine." Rodney thought he was doing a remarkable job of staying calm. "Who is his doctor?"
The nurse smiled sweetly. "That information is confidential."
Rodney threw up his hands. "Oh, come on, you've got to be kidding me!"
"Sir, if you're not a family member, I'm afraid I really can't help you."
For a moment, Rodney just stared at her. Then he said, very slowly, "John Sheppard has been my partner for the last four years. Someone from your hospital left a message on my answering machine that he was here, so I'm going to assume you found the card that lists me as his emergency contact." He took a deep breath. "If you bothered to check his address, you could see that he lives with me. He has a mole below his right nipple and a hickey on his collarbone that I put there this morning, so don't you dare tell me I'm not his family!"
Everyone around them fell silent as he yelled the last few words at the blinking nurse.
"You tell her, bro!" a teenager shouted from where he was sitting on a chair, pressing a towel to his bleeding forehead. Rodney scowled at him in irritation.
"I really can't -" the nurse began, but Rodney had had enough.
"No, you know what?" he interrupted her. "I've had enough of you and your bigoted little mind. Carson Beckett works in this dump; page him."
"I -"
"Page him, or I will sue this facility for discrimination and make sure you'll never find a job in this state again." Rodney had no idea if he could actually do that, but he didn't care. He still had his ties to the SGC; someone there would have enough clout to make a stupid nurse regret the day she'd decided to mess with Rodney McKay.
Without a word, the nurse picked up the phone.
Rodney waited.
~~~
"The bad news," Carson said, "is that John's managed to fracture his leg in two separate places. It might complicate the healing progress, but Dr. Frasier is optimistic and so am I."
Rodney kept his arms crossed. "What's the good news?"
"That this is the only bad news I've got," Carson said with a smile. "He's got a few scrapes and bruises and a mighty bump from the fall, but they're minor. You'll be able to take him home in half an hour, once the cast is dry."
Rodney blinked, arms sinking down to his sides. "I… take him home?"
"Aye." Carson clapped him on the shoulder, and for once, Rodney didn't complain. "The two of you can celebrate your birthday just as planned."
"Not entirely," Rodney said absently. He could take John home. John was coming home. The mere idea made him light-headed with relief. "The peas will have thawed by now, and I don't think John's going to be spending any time in the kitchen with a broken leg." He swallowed, blinking fast. "Plus, there's also the question of reduced mobility to consider, which frankly doesn't really work with the way I'd been planning to start my -"
"Yes, thank you," Carson interrupted, "that is quite enough information."
Rodney grinned helplessly. "It is, isn't it?"
They shared a short laugh and exchanged a manly slap on the back, and Rodney felt happy enough with the world that he wasn't even going to have the nurse fired after all.
Well. Probably.
~~~
Forty-five minutes later, John hobbled into the waiting area, a pair of blindingly pink crutches holding him up. He was wearing one of Rodney's thinkgeek t-shirts - Schrödinger's cat is dead!, the front proclaimed - and a pair of blue jeans - his own - the left leg of which had been cut open at the seams to make room for the cast. The ends of the jeans leg were flopping with each hopping step, and John's toes poked out of the cast, pale and hairy. His left cheek looked like Madison had spilled black and blue watercolour all over it.
He looked ridiculous.
"You look ridiculous," Rodney told him.
"Yeah, I know." John closed the distance between them and gave Rodney a wary smile. "Hey, buddy. Sorry for freaking you out."
His voice was soft and gentle and just a little bit guilty, and for one irrational moment Rodney wanted to slug him. He drew in a harsh breath, and another one, and then he gave up his composure as a lost cause and carefully pulled John in. The kiss was clumsy, too much emotion and too little finesse, and Rodney found himself shaking even as he pulled John closer, even as John wobbled against him, leaning into him without letting go of the crutches. He needed this. This, John; he needed it so much it hurt and he didn't know what to do without it, didn't know how to… and god, if John ever scared him like that again, ever, Rodney would… he would…
"Sorry," John whispered between kisses, "I'm sorry, Rodney, I'm an idiot," and Rodney held on and on and on.
He had to let go eventually when the nurse on duty - thankfully another one - cleared his throat. Rodney stepped back reluctantly, smiling a little when John used one crutch to bump his foot.
"What say we go home," John said, his eyes holding the promise of more kisses and properly returned embraces and sitting still while Rodney yelled at him and forbid him from ever buying a bike again.
"Yes," Rodney said, and swallowed around the lump in his throat. "What say we."
~~~
Many thanks to everyone who offered hospital information, and especially to ladycat777 for looking this over!
On to 9A
In which John is not an android, but Rodney panics nevertheless.
( Previous parts)
~~~
Rodney pushed the door open, trying not to drop the grocery bags as he pocketed the keys. There had been a letter from Jeannie in the mail; probably yet another drawing from Madison. He didn't think Jeannie was still feeling guilty about insinuating he could only score a guy as hot as John if he paid for it, but over the last four years, she'd been trying hard to stay in touch, like a family should.
Rodney hadn't been sure what to make of that, even as the drawings she kept enclosing progressed from crayons to watercolour, but John had told him not to overthink everything and just go with it, so Rodney had.
John's smile had been worth it.
"John?" Rodney called, setting the bags down on the kitchen counter. It was well within the realm of possibility that he'd permanently sprained his back by hauling everything John had put on the shopping list, but tomorrow most of it would be turned into Rodney's birthday dinner and a moist, spongy birthday cake, so Rodney wasn't going to complain. Much. Otherwise there might be a re-enactment of the Great Cooking Embargo of September 2010, which, just, no. Rodney had gotten used to John spoiling him with good food, and he was a genius. Learning from experience was what he did.
"John," he called again, leaving the bags on the counter to go look for his errant housemate. Being greeted with a kiss by the door - a habit that more often than not turned into something that lasted at least half an hour and left stains on the carpet - was something else Rodney had gotten used to. He might even give up the good coffee if it ever came to a decision between that and kissing John; not that John needed to know that particular detail. He probably did, anyway… John was sneaky like that.
The kitchen was empty, as was the living room, and Rodney was about to check out the bathroom when he noticed that the answering machine was blinking. Shrugging, he pressed the button.
"Dr. McKay," the message began, "this is Barbara Arnold from St. Francis Medical Center," and Rodney swallowed against his suddenly dry throat. He took a deep breath to undo the ridiculous clench of nervousness in his gut. There was a perfectly reasonable explanation for a hospital to call him. He'd donated to charities before; they probably just wanted their slice of the tempting, delicious cake that was Rodney McKay's bank account. There was no reason to…
"You're listed as the emergency contact for John Sheppard," the message went on, professional and merciless, but Rodney didn't hear the rest. His knees gave out without warning and he sat down hard on the floor, missing the sofa by several feet.
"Oh no," he breathed, shaking his head in automatic denial because this couldn't be happening; it was his birthday tomorrow, for God's sake, "no, no, no, John."
Rodney swallowed, heart pounding in his throat at a pace so fast it sickened him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down. Then he stood up, walked back into the kitchen, grabbed his keys from the counter, and made his way to the door, leaving the grocery bags behind. John got pissed when the frozen vegetables thawed partially and then clumped together in the freezer, and that was one argument Rodney counted on having again.
Because John would be fine. Everything was going to be just fine.
~~~
"I'm sorry, sir," the nurse said again, in a voice that made it very clear she wasn't sorry at all. "That information is confidential."
Rodney gritted his teeth. "I'm not asking you to show me his x-rays. I just want to know how he is."
He'd made it to the hospital on autopilot, barely paying any attention to traffic as he tried not to panic. Finding the emergency room had been easy enough, and he'd gripped the edge of the information desk hard enough to make his fingers hurt as he asked for John.
That was when the fun had started.
"You'll have to take that up with the doctor," the nurse said, and popped a strip of chewing gum into her mouth.
"Fine." Rodney thought he was doing a remarkable job of staying calm. "Who is his doctor?"
The nurse smiled sweetly. "That information is confidential."
Rodney threw up his hands. "Oh, come on, you've got to be kidding me!"
"Sir, if you're not a family member, I'm afraid I really can't help you."
For a moment, Rodney just stared at her. Then he said, very slowly, "John Sheppard has been my partner for the last four years. Someone from your hospital left a message on my answering machine that he was here, so I'm going to assume you found the card that lists me as his emergency contact." He took a deep breath. "If you bothered to check his address, you could see that he lives with me. He has a mole below his right nipple and a hickey on his collarbone that I put there this morning, so don't you dare tell me I'm not his family!"
Everyone around them fell silent as he yelled the last few words at the blinking nurse.
"You tell her, bro!" a teenager shouted from where he was sitting on a chair, pressing a towel to his bleeding forehead. Rodney scowled at him in irritation.
"I really can't -" the nurse began, but Rodney had had enough.
"No, you know what?" he interrupted her. "I've had enough of you and your bigoted little mind. Carson Beckett works in this dump; page him."
"I -"
"Page him, or I will sue this facility for discrimination and make sure you'll never find a job in this state again." Rodney had no idea if he could actually do that, but he didn't care. He still had his ties to the SGC; someone there would have enough clout to make a stupid nurse regret the day she'd decided to mess with Rodney McKay.
Without a word, the nurse picked up the phone.
Rodney waited.
~~~
"The bad news," Carson said, "is that John's managed to fracture his leg in two separate places. It might complicate the healing progress, but Dr. Frasier is optimistic and so am I."
Rodney kept his arms crossed. "What's the good news?"
"That this is the only bad news I've got," Carson said with a smile. "He's got a few scrapes and bruises and a mighty bump from the fall, but they're minor. You'll be able to take him home in half an hour, once the cast is dry."
Rodney blinked, arms sinking down to his sides. "I… take him home?"
"Aye." Carson clapped him on the shoulder, and for once, Rodney didn't complain. "The two of you can celebrate your birthday just as planned."
"Not entirely," Rodney said absently. He could take John home. John was coming home. The mere idea made him light-headed with relief. "The peas will have thawed by now, and I don't think John's going to be spending any time in the kitchen with a broken leg." He swallowed, blinking fast. "Plus, there's also the question of reduced mobility to consider, which frankly doesn't really work with the way I'd been planning to start my -"
"Yes, thank you," Carson interrupted, "that is quite enough information."
Rodney grinned helplessly. "It is, isn't it?"
They shared a short laugh and exchanged a manly slap on the back, and Rodney felt happy enough with the world that he wasn't even going to have the nurse fired after all.
Well. Probably.
~~~
Forty-five minutes later, John hobbled into the waiting area, a pair of blindingly pink crutches holding him up. He was wearing one of Rodney's thinkgeek t-shirts - Schrödinger's cat is dead!, the front proclaimed - and a pair of blue jeans - his own - the left leg of which had been cut open at the seams to make room for the cast. The ends of the jeans leg were flopping with each hopping step, and John's toes poked out of the cast, pale and hairy. His left cheek looked like Madison had spilled black and blue watercolour all over it.
He looked ridiculous.
"You look ridiculous," Rodney told him.
"Yeah, I know." John closed the distance between them and gave Rodney a wary smile. "Hey, buddy. Sorry for freaking you out."
His voice was soft and gentle and just a little bit guilty, and for one irrational moment Rodney wanted to slug him. He drew in a harsh breath, and another one, and then he gave up his composure as a lost cause and carefully pulled John in. The kiss was clumsy, too much emotion and too little finesse, and Rodney found himself shaking even as he pulled John closer, even as John wobbled against him, leaning into him without letting go of the crutches. He needed this. This, John; he needed it so much it hurt and he didn't know what to do without it, didn't know how to… and god, if John ever scared him like that again, ever, Rodney would… he would…
"Sorry," John whispered between kisses, "I'm sorry, Rodney, I'm an idiot," and Rodney held on and on and on.
He had to let go eventually when the nurse on duty - thankfully another one - cleared his throat. Rodney stepped back reluctantly, smiling a little when John used one crutch to bump his foot.
"What say we go home," John said, his eyes holding the promise of more kisses and properly returned embraces and sitting still while Rodney yelled at him and forbid him from ever buying a bike again.
"Yes," Rodney said, and swallowed around the lump in his throat. "What say we."
~~~
Many thanks to everyone who offered hospital information, and especially to ladycat777 for looking this over!
On to 9A