[Stargate: Drabble] "Heat Wave" [John/Rodney, G]
Title: Heat Wave
Author: Ami Ven
Rating: G
Word Count: 600
Prompt: mcsheplets challenge #247 “hot”
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing(s): John Sheppard/Rodney McKay
Setting: part of my Alternate Lives ‘verse, tag to Chapter Eight: Home on the Range (John is a sheriff and Rodney is a blacksmith)
Summary: The summer of ’75 was the hottest on record.
Heat Wave
Lantea, Colorado Territory
1875
The summer of ’75 was the hottest on record. There was a real mercury thermometer outside the courthouse, and it hadn’t read less than a hundred degrees during daylight in over a week. Most of Lantea’s residents chose to stay indoors, and John started riding his patrols before the sun rose, to avoid the worst of the heat. Rodney, of course, was complaining nonstop - about the heat, the dry air, the blazing sunshine, the impact of those things on his daily life - so the rest of the town were giving his blacksmith shop a wide berth.
Which was fine with John, because it meant that he was the only soul alive who got to witness a sweaty, shirtless Rodney McKay hammering red-hot bits of metal, face and chest flushed pink from the heat of his forge.
John had his chair tipped back against the wall of Rodney’s workroom, hat pulled low over his eyes so he wouldn’t be caught staring - plausible deniability in case anyone came into the shop. Not that the whole town didn’t know their sheriff was most likely to be found at the blacksmith’s shop, or that he slept in the residence above the shop unless there was someone in jail. Still, they were trying not to be too obvious.
Rodney finished with the piece he was hammering - John didn’t even know what it was, he’d been too distracted by Rodney’s broad shoulders - and dunked it in the water barrel. It steamed immediately, and Rodney pulled a rag from his belt to wipe his face before inspecting his work.
He’d mostly had his back to John, which was bad enough, but now the sheriff could see those intense blue eyes studying the metal - part of a hinge, maybe? John was having trouble focusing - those strong fingers checking for any imperfection, and John drew in a slow, shaky breath.
“Sheppard?” asked Rodney, turning to face him. “Are you alright?”
“I’m-” John began, but his throat was dry. He cleared it and tried again, “I’m fine.”
Rodney glanced down at himself, self-consciously. “Do I have soot on me, or something?” he asked, swiping at his shoulders with the rag and ironically leaving smears where there hadn’t been any. “What?”
“I…” John tried again. “You…” He groaned in frustration and stood, letting the chair clatter back down to all four legs. “Are you done with that?”
“Yes, it’s finished,” said Rodney, frowning. “But there’s still another piece to make.”
“And do you have to do that now?”
“No, but I…” the blacksmith trailed off as John stalked closer. “What?”
“You’re a damn tease, McKay,” said John. “You gonna actually do something?”
“I was doing something,” Rodney protested, then blinked. “Oh! You mean something sexual.”
John chuckled. “Yeah, that’s what I mean. Can you stop now?”
“I… yes. Let me just clean up…”
Rodney set the finished metalwork on a clean section of his table, then quickly replaced his tools, while John rearranged the wood in the forge fire, letting it cool. They finished about the same time, and Rodney caught John by the front of his vest, running a thumb over his sheriff’s badge.
“You really do like that, don’t you?” he said, a hint of wonder in his voice.
“What?” said John, going easily as Rodney began leading them toward the stairs. “Like watching you get all hot and sweaty, all those rippling muscles? Yeah, I like that a lot. I like you.”
Rodney grinned and darted in to kiss him. “I’m so glad I was working late the night you rode into town.”
“Me, too,” said John.
THE END
Who’s Who
John Sheppard, as the town sheriff
Rodney McKay, as the town blacksmith
Current Mood:
busy
Author: Ami Ven
Rating: G
Word Count: 600
Prompt: mcsheplets challenge #247 “hot”
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing(s): John Sheppard/Rodney McKay
Setting: part of my Alternate Lives ‘verse, tag to Chapter Eight: Home on the Range (John is a sheriff and Rodney is a blacksmith)
Summary: The summer of ’75 was the hottest on record.
Heat Wave
Lantea, Colorado Territory
1875
The summer of ’75 was the hottest on record. There was a real mercury thermometer outside the courthouse, and it hadn’t read less than a hundred degrees during daylight in over a week. Most of Lantea’s residents chose to stay indoors, and John started riding his patrols before the sun rose, to avoid the worst of the heat. Rodney, of course, was complaining nonstop - about the heat, the dry air, the blazing sunshine, the impact of those things on his daily life - so the rest of the town were giving his blacksmith shop a wide berth.
Which was fine with John, because it meant that he was the only soul alive who got to witness a sweaty, shirtless Rodney McKay hammering red-hot bits of metal, face and chest flushed pink from the heat of his forge.
John had his chair tipped back against the wall of Rodney’s workroom, hat pulled low over his eyes so he wouldn’t be caught staring - plausible deniability in case anyone came into the shop. Not that the whole town didn’t know their sheriff was most likely to be found at the blacksmith’s shop, or that he slept in the residence above the shop unless there was someone in jail. Still, they were trying not to be too obvious.
Rodney finished with the piece he was hammering - John didn’t even know what it was, he’d been too distracted by Rodney’s broad shoulders - and dunked it in the water barrel. It steamed immediately, and Rodney pulled a rag from his belt to wipe his face before inspecting his work.
He’d mostly had his back to John, which was bad enough, but now the sheriff could see those intense blue eyes studying the metal - part of a hinge, maybe? John was having trouble focusing - those strong fingers checking for any imperfection, and John drew in a slow, shaky breath.
“Sheppard?” asked Rodney, turning to face him. “Are you alright?”
“I’m-” John began, but his throat was dry. He cleared it and tried again, “I’m fine.”
Rodney glanced down at himself, self-consciously. “Do I have soot on me, or something?” he asked, swiping at his shoulders with the rag and ironically leaving smears where there hadn’t been any. “What?”
“I…” John tried again. “You…” He groaned in frustration and stood, letting the chair clatter back down to all four legs. “Are you done with that?”
“Yes, it’s finished,” said Rodney, frowning. “But there’s still another piece to make.”
“And do you have to do that now?”
“No, but I…” the blacksmith trailed off as John stalked closer. “What?”
“You’re a damn tease, McKay,” said John. “You gonna actually do something?”
“I was doing something,” Rodney protested, then blinked. “Oh! You mean something sexual.”
John chuckled. “Yeah, that’s what I mean. Can you stop now?”
“I… yes. Let me just clean up…”
Rodney set the finished metalwork on a clean section of his table, then quickly replaced his tools, while John rearranged the wood in the forge fire, letting it cool. They finished about the same time, and Rodney caught John by the front of his vest, running a thumb over his sheriff’s badge.
“You really do like that, don’t you?” he said, a hint of wonder in his voice.
“What?” said John, going easily as Rodney began leading them toward the stairs. “Like watching you get all hot and sweaty, all those rippling muscles? Yeah, I like that a lot. I like you.”
Rodney grinned and darted in to kiss him. “I’m so glad I was working late the night you rode into town.”
“Me, too,” said John.
THE END
Who’s Who
John Sheppard, as the town sheriff
Rodney McKay, as the town blacksmith
Current Mood:
busy