Bric-a-Brac Kid Fic: This Is Not A Death Wish
Title: This Is Not A Death Wish
Pairing: John/Rodney
Rating: G
Summary: More Bric-a-Brac Kid 'verse. A companion piece to Bric-a-Brac Childbearing , The Alien Priestess Is Always The First To Know, and Pregnancy-Related Weirdness. Rodney's latest craving has John worried.
Note: This is for shadowserenity who suggested the idea.
This Is Not A Death Wish
by Lenore
The first time it happens, John doesn't think too much about it. They're going through the food line at lunch, and Rodney makes a beeline for pie, only it's lemon meringue, in the special quarantine area for citrus that Rodney himself insisted on, and John reaches out and catches him by the belt loops. "There's chocolate cake here."
If Rodney casts a reluctant glance backward, John figures that's simply a testament to love of pie being right up there with loathing of citrus in The World According to Rodney McKay.
The next time, John assumes that Rodney is just being his usual lab Nazi self. He stops by ostensibly to get Rodney's input on the new energy conversation plan, really just to check on him, and finds Rodney looming beside one of the scientists, Dr. Mallory, fresh from Earth, brought to Atlantis on the latest run of the Daedalus, a freckle-faced young woman, who reminds John a little alarmingly of a female Opie Taylor. Rodney is crowded uncomfortably close to her, eyeing the open bag of lime Jolly Ranchers at her elbow.
"Can I help you with something, Dr. McKay?" she squeaks.
Rodney doesn't answer, just stares more pointedly at the candy, and John rolls his eyes and goes to poor, nerve-wracked Dr. Mallory's rescue. "You got a minute?"
Rodney glares. "What is it? Can't you see I'm busy?"
John steers him over to a private corner. "I know how you enjoy terrorizing the new scientists, but you could just tell her you don't allow eating in the lab."
"Um--" Rodney looks startled for a moment, and then squares his shoulders. "Yes, but where's the fun in that? Now, what did you want?"
It's not until the time after this that John stops to think that maybe, possibly, Rodney has developed something of a death wish, a conclusion he feels is only logical when he finds Rodney secreted away in his quarters with a bottle of lemon-scented cleanser that he's sniffing as enthusiastically as a teenager with a glue addiction.
"What the--" John strides across the room and takes it away from him.
"Hey!" Rodney's cheeks flush bright red. "That's mine."
"You complain if you catch even a ghost of a hint of a whiff of this stuff secondhand! What was the subject line of that memo you wrote about it? 'When cleanliness is next to deadliness'?"
Rodney reaches out with grabby hands. "Yes, well, that was then. This is now."
John puts the bottle as far away from Rodney as possible and sits down next to him. "If there's something wrong-- If you're--" He swallows hard. "Having second thoughts about the baby, we can--"
"Oh for-- I'm not trying to off myself! And if I were, suicide by lemon is, oh, let me think, yes, the last way I'd choose to do it. I just--" He ducks his head and mumbles, "It smells good."
John is still trying to wrap his mind around this when Rodney's head snaps up and his eyes light on John, big and way too bright with excitement, a look John has reasonably learned to fear. "Hey, maybe you could drink some orange juice, and I could--" He leans in, sniffing John's breath.
"No!" John rears back. "Absolutely not. Isn't 'one molecule could kill me' your personal mantra?"
Rodney throws up his hands. "I exaggerate! Everyone knows that. Please. Couldn't you just--"
"No! I'm sorry you're having yet another freakish craving, but I'm not going to endanger my entire family just because--
Rodney sucks in his breath sharply, and John tenses all over, "are you all right, should I call Carson?" already forming on lips, but then Rodney looks at him in wonder. "You think of us as your--- But we don't even know--"
John's shoulders drop, he's so relieved he's practically light-headed. "It's your kid, Rodney. That's good enough for me."
Rodney blinks very hard, his eyes suspiciously bright, and later, John knows, he'll claim it was just a manly stray eyelash, and John will nod and say, "It happens to the best of us." Right now, though, he puts his arm around Rodney and lays a string of kisses to the top of his head, and thinks that, as long as he can keep Rodney out of the Lemon Pledge, he really couldn't ask for more than this.
Pairing: John/Rodney
Rating: G
Summary: More Bric-a-Brac Kid 'verse. A companion piece to Bric-a-Brac Childbearing , The Alien Priestess Is Always The First To Know, and Pregnancy-Related Weirdness. Rodney's latest craving has John worried.
Note: This is for shadowserenity who suggested the idea.
This Is Not A Death Wish
by Lenore
The first time it happens, John doesn't think too much about it. They're going through the food line at lunch, and Rodney makes a beeline for pie, only it's lemon meringue, in the special quarantine area for citrus that Rodney himself insisted on, and John reaches out and catches him by the belt loops. "There's chocolate cake here."
If Rodney casts a reluctant glance backward, John figures that's simply a testament to love of pie being right up there with loathing of citrus in The World According to Rodney McKay.
The next time, John assumes that Rodney is just being his usual lab Nazi self. He stops by ostensibly to get Rodney's input on the new energy conversation plan, really just to check on him, and finds Rodney looming beside one of the scientists, Dr. Mallory, fresh from Earth, brought to Atlantis on the latest run of the Daedalus, a freckle-faced young woman, who reminds John a little alarmingly of a female Opie Taylor. Rodney is crowded uncomfortably close to her, eyeing the open bag of lime Jolly Ranchers at her elbow.
"Can I help you with something, Dr. McKay?" she squeaks.
Rodney doesn't answer, just stares more pointedly at the candy, and John rolls his eyes and goes to poor, nerve-wracked Dr. Mallory's rescue. "You got a minute?"
Rodney glares. "What is it? Can't you see I'm busy?"
John steers him over to a private corner. "I know how you enjoy terrorizing the new scientists, but you could just tell her you don't allow eating in the lab."
"Um--" Rodney looks startled for a moment, and then squares his shoulders. "Yes, but where's the fun in that? Now, what did you want?"
It's not until the time after this that John stops to think that maybe, possibly, Rodney has developed something of a death wish, a conclusion he feels is only logical when he finds Rodney secreted away in his quarters with a bottle of lemon-scented cleanser that he's sniffing as enthusiastically as a teenager with a glue addiction.
"What the--" John strides across the room and takes it away from him.
"Hey!" Rodney's cheeks flush bright red. "That's mine."
"You complain if you catch even a ghost of a hint of a whiff of this stuff secondhand! What was the subject line of that memo you wrote about it? 'When cleanliness is next to deadliness'?"
Rodney reaches out with grabby hands. "Yes, well, that was then. This is now."
John puts the bottle as far away from Rodney as possible and sits down next to him. "If there's something wrong-- If you're--" He swallows hard. "Having second thoughts about the baby, we can--"
"Oh for-- I'm not trying to off myself! And if I were, suicide by lemon is, oh, let me think, yes, the last way I'd choose to do it. I just--" He ducks his head and mumbles, "It smells good."
John is still trying to wrap his mind around this when Rodney's head snaps up and his eyes light on John, big and way too bright with excitement, a look John has reasonably learned to fear. "Hey, maybe you could drink some orange juice, and I could--" He leans in, sniffing John's breath.
"No!" John rears back. "Absolutely not. Isn't 'one molecule could kill me' your personal mantra?"
Rodney throws up his hands. "I exaggerate! Everyone knows that. Please. Couldn't you just--"
"No! I'm sorry you're having yet another freakish craving, but I'm not going to endanger my entire family just because--
Rodney sucks in his breath sharply, and John tenses all over, "are you all right, should I call Carson?" already forming on lips, but then Rodney looks at him in wonder. "You think of us as your--- But we don't even know--"
John's shoulders drop, he's so relieved he's practically light-headed. "It's your kid, Rodney. That's good enough for me."
Rodney blinks very hard, his eyes suspiciously bright, and later, John knows, he'll claim it was just a manly stray eyelash, and John will nod and say, "It happens to the best of us." Right now, though, he puts his arm around Rodney and lays a string of kisses to the top of his head, and thinks that, as long as he can keep Rodney out of the Lemon Pledge, he really couldn't ask for more than this.