SGA fic: Wildfire (Pegasus Airlines AU)
Title: Wildfire
Author: winkingstar
Rating: PG
Pairing: John/Rodney
Summary: "I'm helping with the fire fight. I get to fly a helicopter."
Wordcount: ~1,360
Disclaimer: SGA and its characters are not mine, nor is the City of Santa Barbara. And I would like you to know that I love the Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf and do not mean any disrespect on account of Rodney's fictional experience there. ;)
Notes: Part of my [ Pegasus Airlines AU]. John is a charter pilot and Rodney is a flight attendant in Santa Barbara, California. Last month there was a huge wildfire in the foothills of Santa Barbara, dubbed the [Jesusita Fire]. It burned over 8,700 acres and destroyed or damaged about 100 homes between May 5 and 14. Mad props to the firefighters for making it much less damaging than it could have been.
Thanks to flyakate for beta suggestions!
*
Rodney was following Laura and James onto the plane to prep for the first flight on Thursday morning when he saw John jogging across the tarmac.
"Hey, buddy," John said. "I'm helping with the fire fight. I get to fly a helicopter."
"Wait, what?" Rodney asked.
"I get to fly a helicopter," John repeated with a grin, as if that clarified things. "I probably won't see you for a couple days. So long, Rodney." He patted Rodney's shoulder and jogged off again.
"The fire fight? No, no, no," Rodney protested faintly, but John was already gone.
"Meredith!" Laura called from the plane door.
"Right," Rodney muttered. He waved at Radek by the terminal door to start letting the passengers out. In the east, the sun peeked over the horizon to wash the sky in the particular gray and orange of a wildfire day.
*
"It's not a good morning, as I'm sure you've all noticed the ominous billows of smoke over the foothills. You are clearly normal, sane people going away from the fire, unlike idiotic wanna-be heroes who think it's a good idea to fly into the fire."
"McKay!"
"Oh, fine. This is Pegasus Airlines Flight 714 to San Francisco. Flying with us today we have Captain Laura Cadman and First Officer James Stackhouse. If you've bought a roundtrip ticket, here's hoping there's a city to come back to later. If not, pick up some marshmallows."
*
Rodney watched the flames from the window as the plane took off for San Francisco and again as they were landing in Santa Barbara again. He tried to make out the helicopters amid the plumes of smoke, but their small size against the enormity of the fire made his stomach queasy. The passengers seemed a bit queasy, too, after his landing speech, and most of them whipped out their cell phones as soon as he gave the okay. Rodney tried calling John once the passengers were off, but there was no answer.
When Rodney got back from the second flight early that afternoon, Radek beckoned him over.
"Rodney," he began, straightening a stack of papers. "Elizabeth thinks that perhaps you should take the rest of the day off. You are perhaps not feeling your best."
"I'm fine," Rodney protested.
"Yes, well, some of the passengers seem to think you are a bit ... over-excited," Radek said carefully.
"Oh, please. I'm not the one who went flying off into the heart of the fire. And wildfires really are the seedy underbelly of the California Dream," Rodney snapped.
Radek stared at him pointedly.
"Oh fine, I'll see if Katie can switch."
*
Teyla found him in the break room after he got off the phone with Katie to arrange the switch.
"How are you doing, Rodney?" Teyla asked.
"I'm fine," Rodney said. "Why does everyone keep asking? I'm not the one in a flimsy helicopter above a raging wildfire."
"It is natural to worry about loved ones," Teyla said. "So if you wanted to express your concern, I am here to listen."
Rodney's shoulders slumped. "You saw the winds last night. What if they pick up again? And those photos of the huge flare-ups. What if he's not high enough or what if the wind-"
"Rodney." Teyla placed her hands firmly on his shoulders and looked into his eyes. "John is a good pilot. I am sure he will be fine." She touched her forehead to his in her weird but oddly reassuring way.
Rodney sighed.
*
He couldn't stand the thought of sitting around their house, watching the news reports and wondering when John would come back or at least call. So he came up with a plan.
Rodney arrived at the helicopter refilling station at Santa Barbara Junior High shortly before 5pm with his own coffee maker and ten pounds of coffee, the latter kindly "donated" by The Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf. (There may have been some shouting and gesticulating involved when the barista offered a paltry 10% discount, as if that was all the idiotic heroics of suicidal pilots were worth, resulting in Rodney being asked to "step outside" for a meeting with the manager and two security officers from the mall. In the end, the manager felt that the "high-flying heroes deserved some high-quality coffee," which Rodney suspected had a little to do with the crowd that had gathered and a lot to do with the casual question of a passing reporter from the Independent. And Rodney may or may not have been banned from that particular location. But it was the principle of the thing.) Rodney set up camp in a corner of the school's gym, where a few cots were set up for the rotating pilots, and within twenty minutes he was the most popular person there, much to the chagrin of a flirty news reporter.
John, however, was nowhere to be seen.
Rodney kept busy by making sure the coffee stayed fresh and doling it out to anyone who staggered over. He also helped distribute the dinner bags when the food truck came by later. When the radio reports said the fire was getting more and more out of control, he told himself over and over that John was in the air, high above the flames, safe. But when the emergency scanner chatter began relaying the firefighters' alarm and the winds outside picked up to howling gusts, Rodney just stared at the door, holding his breath every time someone came in.
John finally staggered through the door shortly after midnight, a pair of night-vision goggles pushed up on his forehead. Rodney hurried over to meet him, dodging around the cots scattered across the floor, and promptly whapped him upside the head.
"Ow," John complained. "Whaaaat?"
"What?" Rodney spluttered-quietly, because other pilots were sleeping. "You are a moron, that's what. Who runs up before dawn and says, 'Hey, I'm flying into a flaming inferno of certain doom, so long'? Look at how insane that fire's gotten! They've extended the evacuation area all the way to Turnpike, and I've been listening to reports all night saying the fire's out of control with all the ground crews running all over, and the winds aren't safe for the air crews. You're not even a firefighter! Are you suicidal?"
"Um," John said, scratching the back of his neck.
"These are things I should know!" Rodney said. "If you're not going to come back one day, I need to- I'd like to be prepared."
"Hey," John whispered, pulling Rodney close and kissing his temple. "I'll come back."
"You say that, but you're going to fly off into the fire again tomorrow, aren't you?"
"Well, yeah," John admitted. He paused. "But I have someone to come back to, okay? So. Um." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I think about that whenever I go up."
"Oh." Rodney blinked. "Um." He wanted to say that he liked it when John came home, liked sharing a house and a bed, but the words got stuck somewhere in the knot in his stomach. So he leaned forward and kissed John, tasting smoke and sweat, fingers tangling in the straps of the night-vision goggles and John's matted hair. He tugged the goggles off when he stepped back again.
"Hey, what're you doing here?" John asked suddenly. "You have to report for check-in in a few hours."
"Er, I switched with Katie, so I'm off until Monday."
"And by 'switched' you mean...?" John prompted.
"There may have been some complaints and Elizabeth may have made a suggestion," Rodney said shiftily.
John smiled and then yawned. "Is there an extra bed around here?"
Rodney led John over to the cot he'd staked out in the far corner of the gym. He sat on the floor beside the cot and ran his fingers through John's hair, which still stuck up at determinedly odd angles despite the grime of sweat and ash.
"Good night," Rodney whispered.
"G'night," John mumbled.
Rodney was just going to wait until John was asleep before getting into his own cot, but his head drooped forward until he was sleeping with his forehead touching John's.
Author: winkingstar
Rating: PG
Pairing: John/Rodney
Summary: "I'm helping with the fire fight. I get to fly a helicopter."
Wordcount: ~1,360
Disclaimer: SGA and its characters are not mine, nor is the City of Santa Barbara. And I would like you to know that I love the Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf and do not mean any disrespect on account of Rodney's fictional experience there. ;)
Notes: Part of my [ Pegasus Airlines AU]. John is a charter pilot and Rodney is a flight attendant in Santa Barbara, California. Last month there was a huge wildfire in the foothills of Santa Barbara, dubbed the [Jesusita Fire]. It burned over 8,700 acres and destroyed or damaged about 100 homes between May 5 and 14. Mad props to the firefighters for making it much less damaging than it could have been.
Thanks to flyakate for beta suggestions!
*
Rodney was following Laura and James onto the plane to prep for the first flight on Thursday morning when he saw John jogging across the tarmac.
"Hey, buddy," John said. "I'm helping with the fire fight. I get to fly a helicopter."
"Wait, what?" Rodney asked.
"I get to fly a helicopter," John repeated with a grin, as if that clarified things. "I probably won't see you for a couple days. So long, Rodney." He patted Rodney's shoulder and jogged off again.
"The fire fight? No, no, no," Rodney protested faintly, but John was already gone.
"Meredith!" Laura called from the plane door.
"Right," Rodney muttered. He waved at Radek by the terminal door to start letting the passengers out. In the east, the sun peeked over the horizon to wash the sky in the particular gray and orange of a wildfire day.
*
"It's not a good morning, as I'm sure you've all noticed the ominous billows of smoke over the foothills. You are clearly normal, sane people going away from the fire, unlike idiotic wanna-be heroes who think it's a good idea to fly into the fire."
"McKay!"
"Oh, fine. This is Pegasus Airlines Flight 714 to San Francisco. Flying with us today we have Captain Laura Cadman and First Officer James Stackhouse. If you've bought a roundtrip ticket, here's hoping there's a city to come back to later. If not, pick up some marshmallows."
*
Rodney watched the flames from the window as the plane took off for San Francisco and again as they were landing in Santa Barbara again. He tried to make out the helicopters amid the plumes of smoke, but their small size against the enormity of the fire made his stomach queasy. The passengers seemed a bit queasy, too, after his landing speech, and most of them whipped out their cell phones as soon as he gave the okay. Rodney tried calling John once the passengers were off, but there was no answer.
When Rodney got back from the second flight early that afternoon, Radek beckoned him over.
"Rodney," he began, straightening a stack of papers. "Elizabeth thinks that perhaps you should take the rest of the day off. You are perhaps not feeling your best."
"I'm fine," Rodney protested.
"Yes, well, some of the passengers seem to think you are a bit ... over-excited," Radek said carefully.
"Oh, please. I'm not the one who went flying off into the heart of the fire. And wildfires really are the seedy underbelly of the California Dream," Rodney snapped.
Radek stared at him pointedly.
"Oh fine, I'll see if Katie can switch."
*
Teyla found him in the break room after he got off the phone with Katie to arrange the switch.
"How are you doing, Rodney?" Teyla asked.
"I'm fine," Rodney said. "Why does everyone keep asking? I'm not the one in a flimsy helicopter above a raging wildfire."
"It is natural to worry about loved ones," Teyla said. "So if you wanted to express your concern, I am here to listen."
Rodney's shoulders slumped. "You saw the winds last night. What if they pick up again? And those photos of the huge flare-ups. What if he's not high enough or what if the wind-"
"Rodney." Teyla placed her hands firmly on his shoulders and looked into his eyes. "John is a good pilot. I am sure he will be fine." She touched her forehead to his in her weird but oddly reassuring way.
Rodney sighed.
*
He couldn't stand the thought of sitting around their house, watching the news reports and wondering when John would come back or at least call. So he came up with a plan.
Rodney arrived at the helicopter refilling station at Santa Barbara Junior High shortly before 5pm with his own coffee maker and ten pounds of coffee, the latter kindly "donated" by The Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf. (There may have been some shouting and gesticulating involved when the barista offered a paltry 10% discount, as if that was all the idiotic heroics of suicidal pilots were worth, resulting in Rodney being asked to "step outside" for a meeting with the manager and two security officers from the mall. In the end, the manager felt that the "high-flying heroes deserved some high-quality coffee," which Rodney suspected had a little to do with the crowd that had gathered and a lot to do with the casual question of a passing reporter from the Independent. And Rodney may or may not have been banned from that particular location. But it was the principle of the thing.) Rodney set up camp in a corner of the school's gym, where a few cots were set up for the rotating pilots, and within twenty minutes he was the most popular person there, much to the chagrin of a flirty news reporter.
John, however, was nowhere to be seen.
Rodney kept busy by making sure the coffee stayed fresh and doling it out to anyone who staggered over. He also helped distribute the dinner bags when the food truck came by later. When the radio reports said the fire was getting more and more out of control, he told himself over and over that John was in the air, high above the flames, safe. But when the emergency scanner chatter began relaying the firefighters' alarm and the winds outside picked up to howling gusts, Rodney just stared at the door, holding his breath every time someone came in.
John finally staggered through the door shortly after midnight, a pair of night-vision goggles pushed up on his forehead. Rodney hurried over to meet him, dodging around the cots scattered across the floor, and promptly whapped him upside the head.
"Ow," John complained. "Whaaaat?"
"What?" Rodney spluttered-quietly, because other pilots were sleeping. "You are a moron, that's what. Who runs up before dawn and says, 'Hey, I'm flying into a flaming inferno of certain doom, so long'? Look at how insane that fire's gotten! They've extended the evacuation area all the way to Turnpike, and I've been listening to reports all night saying the fire's out of control with all the ground crews running all over, and the winds aren't safe for the air crews. You're not even a firefighter! Are you suicidal?"
"Um," John said, scratching the back of his neck.
"These are things I should know!" Rodney said. "If you're not going to come back one day, I need to- I'd like to be prepared."
"Hey," John whispered, pulling Rodney close and kissing his temple. "I'll come back."
"You say that, but you're going to fly off into the fire again tomorrow, aren't you?"
"Well, yeah," John admitted. He paused. "But I have someone to come back to, okay? So. Um." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I think about that whenever I go up."
"Oh." Rodney blinked. "Um." He wanted to say that he liked it when John came home, liked sharing a house and a bed, but the words got stuck somewhere in the knot in his stomach. So he leaned forward and kissed John, tasting smoke and sweat, fingers tangling in the straps of the night-vision goggles and John's matted hair. He tugged the goggles off when he stepped back again.
"Hey, what're you doing here?" John asked suddenly. "You have to report for check-in in a few hours."
"Er, I switched with Katie, so I'm off until Monday."
"And by 'switched' you mean...?" John prompted.
"There may have been some complaints and Elizabeth may have made a suggestion," Rodney said shiftily.
John smiled and then yawned. "Is there an extra bed around here?"
Rodney led John over to the cot he'd staked out in the far corner of the gym. He sat on the floor beside the cot and ran his fingers through John's hair, which still stuck up at determinedly odd angles despite the grime of sweat and ash.
"Good night," Rodney whispered.
"G'night," John mumbled.
Rodney was just going to wait until John was asleep before getting into his own cot, but his head drooped forward until he was sleeping with his forehead touching John's.