Fic: SGA: The Houseguest, Checkmate 'verse
Title: The Houseguest
Series: Checkmate
Author: Beadtific
Beta: Unbeta'd
Warnings: Animal transformation fic, schmoop, pre-slash, crack!fic
Spoilers: None
Summary: John and Rodney adjust to their new living arrangements and altered (however temporarily) relationship. Rodney still proves a wizard at speaking/interpreting Cat, and John proves to be a gentlemanly houseguest.
Chronologically, the fourth part of the Checkmate 'Verse.
Teaser:
“Ready for some breakfast?”
John snuffled at his ear and purred.
“Are you sure you’re ready for the hordes of the uncouth?”
John’s purring abruptly stopped. Rodney walked into the bathroom and looked at him in the mirror. John's expression was the look he got when some chieftain shoved his daughter at him; utter, unforseen horror.
~~~~~~~
Rodney figured that John might want to hide out in his quarters for a little while, getting used to being a cat. But he got up when Rodney did and leapt to the floor. Both of them ignored the fact that John had slept stretched along Rodney's side, his head resting on Rodney shoulder and Rodney's arm wrapped around him.
“Mmmring,” Rodney mumbled, scrubbing at his face. It had been a weird night last night - not unpleasant - but he was feeling extra bleary.
“Prrt,” Sheppard replied, disgustingly awake and cheerful. He padded over to the bathroom and stood in the doorway. “Mrrow?”
“Hmm? Yeah, go ahead.”
Sheppard strolled inside and Rodney paused to boggle a bit at him figuring out how to use the toilet in his current form, but he wasn’t about to ask. He heard the shower turn on and the sink, and stumbled to the doorway.
“You taking a shower?”
John, drinking from the faucet, his paws and tail well away from the stream, looked up at him flatly.
“'M just asking!” Rodney huffed. “Um, thanks.” Despite their most energetic attempts, the first few moments of a shower on Atlantis were ice cold. John had turned it on to warm it up for Rodney. He was a thoughtful guest, what a surprise. Clean, unobtrusive, helpful, a perfect gentleman but a bit of a bed-hog, an unconscious bit of imperfection that pleased Rodney no end. And of course, a neat-freak, which Rodney supposed was only marginally due to his current species.
They’d brushed the remaining mud out of John’s fur last night with Rodney’s fingers and Rodney’s own comb. John had taken one look at the running shower and backed away, forgetting he could turn it off. He’d allowed Rodney to wipe him down and wash between his toes with a damp washcloth so he wouldn’t eat mud, and did the rest of his grooming himself, not seeming bothered at all by licking his own shoulders.
John, turning off the sink, hopped off the bathroom counter and trotted away, thankfully preventing Rodney from having to ask for some privacy. Later, when Rodney stumped out of the shower in his towel, marginally more awake, Sheppard was nowhere in sight.
“Colonel?” He glanced around nervously. “Did you go to breakfast without me? I thought we decided…”
His balcony door was open. “Sheppard?”
John was sitting in a patch of sunlight, straight and tall, gazing out at the sea.
“Sheppard?” Still no response.
“John?” he asked softly.
“Mrowr?” John glanced over one shoulder at him.
“Why didn’t you answer me? I called you four times!”
John stared at him steadily. Rodney stared back, considering.
“You pick now to choose which name to answer to?”
“Mow.” John looked a little embarrassed, but stubborn. Typical.
“Could you bear to wait until I have some pants on? And oh, I don’t know, breakfast?”
John turned away and collapsed gently on the balcony, sprawling in the sunlight. Rodney huffed and stomped off to find some clothes, realizing belatedly that John had gone to the farthest point away from the bathroom to give him privacy.
Grumbling to himself, he marched back and stood in the doorway. “Um, thanks. You didn’t have to come all the way out here.”
“Maar.” John said kindly, his eyes half shut.
Rodney, feeling oddly shy, fussed with tucking in his shirt.
“About the name thing. I, um. I think it’s important that I not seem too familiar with you. Yes, you’re staying here, and yes, you’re a cat and I’m the only person who seems to have a clue about that, but you’re still, technically, military commander. I think that while you’re in this form we should, I should, address you with the same formality to preserve…”
John cut him off by standing abruptly and head butting him in the shin, purring loudly.
“You’re welcome?”
Brushing past him, John trotted over to the bed and jumped up on it. “Maa,” he demanded.
“You’re really bossy in the morning, you know that?”
“Maa?”
“Okay, okay.” Rodney walked over to him. “What?”
John sat on his haunches and reached up with his front paws. The trust in his posture and expression made Rodney’s breath catch. He bent down, wrapping his hands around John’s ribs and hindquarters, let John hook his claws into his shirt and hoist himself up. He stood, wincing a little, John cradled in the crook of his left arm and half-sprawled on his shoulder.
“Could we maybe do that when my jacket is on? Your claws are a bit sharp.”
Sheppard touched his jaw apologetically with a soft paw.
“It’s okay, just…if we can’t get you turned back right away, it’ll become an issue.”
“Mow.” John shifted, obviously wanting to finish the climb to lie across Rodney’s shoulders. He spotted him with a hand on his rump.
“Ready for some breakfast?”
John snuffled at his ear and purred.
“Are you sure you’re ready for the hordes of the uncouth?”
John’s purring abruptly stopped. Rodney walked into the bathroom and looked at him in the mirror. John's expression was the look he got when some chieftain shoved his daughter at him; utter, unforseen horror.
“Seriously, John. I can bring back some food.”
He reached up to scratch John’s ears and John thrust his head joyfully into his hand, his purr rumbling back full force.
“Well, when we’re here I figured…” Rodney said faintly, avoiding looking at himself blushing. “I mean,” he cleared his throat, "It's just us, and uh, roommate, temporarily.”
John head butted his ear enthusiastically.
“Ow,” he sniped, tugging on John’s neck fur. “Need to hear with that.”
Sticking his nose in Rodney’s ear, John purred and snuffled loudly. Rodney moved his head and John followed it, gently taking the shell in his teeth.
“John,” Rodney said warningly, stomping down on a smile.
Releasing his ear, John looked him right in the eye, licked one paw quickly, then rubbed his cheek firmly against Rodney’s ear, leaving a slightly moist trace behind.
“Oh, really?” Rodney grinned at him, touched. John scent marked him again, then looking a little shamefaced, marked his t-shirt. (Or his shoulder, Rodney wasn’t sure which.)
“Anything else?” he asked sarcastically.
John leapt off his shoulders onto the bathroom counter. He marked the faucet, the counter, and Rodney’s mug. Hopping down, he went into a virtual orgy of scent marking, claiming the doorjamb, the bed, Rodney’s favorite pillow and the picture of his cat.
Rodney figured that was either identification or jealousy. He couldn’t decide which was freakier.
Hopping off the bed, John claimed another leg of it, Rodney’s third favorite laptop, the sofa, the door to the balcony and his desk.
“Not the chair?”
John looked at it a moment, his tail twitching faintly. He sat down and stared at it some more. “Maa,” he answered.
“Okay, suit yourself. Happy now?”
John leapt on top of the desk and scent marked his lamp. “Prrow? Brrrr, brrrrt,” he trilled. He looked relieved.
“That was…you went directly to all those objects; no hesitation, like you’d already chosen them. The instinct is that strong?”
”Mow.”
“Huh.” He made a grand, flourishing gesture. “Well, then. Mi casa es su casa.” He clapped his hands together. “Breakfast? I hope you realize how lucky you are that I haven’t fallen into a caffeine-deprived coma.”
John twitched his ears. Rodney shook his finger at him. “I’m serious.”
“Mrrrt?” John jumped to the chair and pawed at Rodney’s jacket.
“Right.” He shrugged into it and looked at John for permission to pick him up. John waved a paw at him.
“What?”
“Mrowr.” He held out his paw as high as he could reach, then lowered it to shoulder height, then just above the seat of the chair. ”Prrowr, mmmr, mmmrtgt.” He made the motion again, then deliberately extended his claws toward Rodney’s arm. “Mmmrt.”
“Oh! Oh, okay.”
John hopped back to the desk and Rodney knelt in front of him, letting him clamber onto his shoulders.
“Much less painful.”
John scent-marked his ear again.
“Is it just the one ear you are particularly enamored with?”
John just purred.
“You know, we should see if you can weasel some extra bacon - real bacon - from the mess staff.”
“Mrowr,” John replied, and Rodney could hear the amused drawl of John’s “real” voice.
“Just a thought, just a thought.”
John opened the door for them, still the perfect gentleman. Rodney bit down on yet another smile and headed for the mess, an unconsciously happy bounce in his step.
Series: Checkmate
Author: Beadtific
Beta: Unbeta'd
Warnings: Animal transformation fic, schmoop, pre-slash, crack!fic
Spoilers: None
Summary: John and Rodney adjust to their new living arrangements and altered (however temporarily) relationship. Rodney still proves a wizard at speaking/interpreting Cat, and John proves to be a gentlemanly houseguest.
Chronologically, the fourth part of the Checkmate 'Verse.
Teaser:
“Ready for some breakfast?”
John snuffled at his ear and purred.
“Are you sure you’re ready for the hordes of the uncouth?”
John’s purring abruptly stopped. Rodney walked into the bathroom and looked at him in the mirror. John's expression was the look he got when some chieftain shoved his daughter at him; utter, unforseen horror.
~~~~~~~
Rodney figured that John might want to hide out in his quarters for a little while, getting used to being a cat. But he got up when Rodney did and leapt to the floor. Both of them ignored the fact that John had slept stretched along Rodney's side, his head resting on Rodney shoulder and Rodney's arm wrapped around him.
“Mmmring,” Rodney mumbled, scrubbing at his face. It had been a weird night last night - not unpleasant - but he was feeling extra bleary.
“Prrt,” Sheppard replied, disgustingly awake and cheerful. He padded over to the bathroom and stood in the doorway. “Mrrow?”
“Hmm? Yeah, go ahead.”
Sheppard strolled inside and Rodney paused to boggle a bit at him figuring out how to use the toilet in his current form, but he wasn’t about to ask. He heard the shower turn on and the sink, and stumbled to the doorway.
“You taking a shower?”
John, drinking from the faucet, his paws and tail well away from the stream, looked up at him flatly.
“'M just asking!” Rodney huffed. “Um, thanks.” Despite their most energetic attempts, the first few moments of a shower on Atlantis were ice cold. John had turned it on to warm it up for Rodney. He was a thoughtful guest, what a surprise. Clean, unobtrusive, helpful, a perfect gentleman but a bit of a bed-hog, an unconscious bit of imperfection that pleased Rodney no end. And of course, a neat-freak, which Rodney supposed was only marginally due to his current species.
They’d brushed the remaining mud out of John’s fur last night with Rodney’s fingers and Rodney’s own comb. John had taken one look at the running shower and backed away, forgetting he could turn it off. He’d allowed Rodney to wipe him down and wash between his toes with a damp washcloth so he wouldn’t eat mud, and did the rest of his grooming himself, not seeming bothered at all by licking his own shoulders.
John, turning off the sink, hopped off the bathroom counter and trotted away, thankfully preventing Rodney from having to ask for some privacy. Later, when Rodney stumped out of the shower in his towel, marginally more awake, Sheppard was nowhere in sight.
“Colonel?” He glanced around nervously. “Did you go to breakfast without me? I thought we decided…”
His balcony door was open. “Sheppard?”
John was sitting in a patch of sunlight, straight and tall, gazing out at the sea.
“Sheppard?” Still no response.
“John?” he asked softly.
“Mrowr?” John glanced over one shoulder at him.
“Why didn’t you answer me? I called you four times!”
John stared at him steadily. Rodney stared back, considering.
“You pick now to choose which name to answer to?”
“Mow.” John looked a little embarrassed, but stubborn. Typical.
“Could you bear to wait until I have some pants on? And oh, I don’t know, breakfast?”
John turned away and collapsed gently on the balcony, sprawling in the sunlight. Rodney huffed and stomped off to find some clothes, realizing belatedly that John had gone to the farthest point away from the bathroom to give him privacy.
Grumbling to himself, he marched back and stood in the doorway. “Um, thanks. You didn’t have to come all the way out here.”
“Maar.” John said kindly, his eyes half shut.
Rodney, feeling oddly shy, fussed with tucking in his shirt.
“About the name thing. I, um. I think it’s important that I not seem too familiar with you. Yes, you’re staying here, and yes, you’re a cat and I’m the only person who seems to have a clue about that, but you’re still, technically, military commander. I think that while you’re in this form we should, I should, address you with the same formality to preserve…”
John cut him off by standing abruptly and head butting him in the shin, purring loudly.
“You’re welcome?”
Brushing past him, John trotted over to the bed and jumped up on it. “Maa,” he demanded.
“You’re really bossy in the morning, you know that?”
“Maa?”
“Okay, okay.” Rodney walked over to him. “What?”
John sat on his haunches and reached up with his front paws. The trust in his posture and expression made Rodney’s breath catch. He bent down, wrapping his hands around John’s ribs and hindquarters, let John hook his claws into his shirt and hoist himself up. He stood, wincing a little, John cradled in the crook of his left arm and half-sprawled on his shoulder.
“Could we maybe do that when my jacket is on? Your claws are a bit sharp.”
Sheppard touched his jaw apologetically with a soft paw.
“It’s okay, just…if we can’t get you turned back right away, it’ll become an issue.”
“Mow.” John shifted, obviously wanting to finish the climb to lie across Rodney’s shoulders. He spotted him with a hand on his rump.
“Ready for some breakfast?”
John snuffled at his ear and purred.
“Are you sure you’re ready for the hordes of the uncouth?”
John’s purring abruptly stopped. Rodney walked into the bathroom and looked at him in the mirror. John's expression was the look he got when some chieftain shoved his daughter at him; utter, unforseen horror.
“Seriously, John. I can bring back some food.”
He reached up to scratch John’s ears and John thrust his head joyfully into his hand, his purr rumbling back full force.
“Well, when we’re here I figured…” Rodney said faintly, avoiding looking at himself blushing. “I mean,” he cleared his throat, "It's just us, and uh, roommate, temporarily.”
John head butted his ear enthusiastically.
“Ow,” he sniped, tugging on John’s neck fur. “Need to hear with that.”
Sticking his nose in Rodney’s ear, John purred and snuffled loudly. Rodney moved his head and John followed it, gently taking the shell in his teeth.
“John,” Rodney said warningly, stomping down on a smile.
Releasing his ear, John looked him right in the eye, licked one paw quickly, then rubbed his cheek firmly against Rodney’s ear, leaving a slightly moist trace behind.
“Oh, really?” Rodney grinned at him, touched. John scent marked him again, then looking a little shamefaced, marked his t-shirt. (Or his shoulder, Rodney wasn’t sure which.)
“Anything else?” he asked sarcastically.
John leapt off his shoulders onto the bathroom counter. He marked the faucet, the counter, and Rodney’s mug. Hopping down, he went into a virtual orgy of scent marking, claiming the doorjamb, the bed, Rodney’s favorite pillow and the picture of his cat.
Rodney figured that was either identification or jealousy. He couldn’t decide which was freakier.
Hopping off the bed, John claimed another leg of it, Rodney’s third favorite laptop, the sofa, the door to the balcony and his desk.
“Not the chair?”
John looked at it a moment, his tail twitching faintly. He sat down and stared at it some more. “Maa,” he answered.
“Okay, suit yourself. Happy now?”
John leapt on top of the desk and scent marked his lamp. “Prrow? Brrrr, brrrrt,” he trilled. He looked relieved.
“That was…you went directly to all those objects; no hesitation, like you’d already chosen them. The instinct is that strong?”
”Mow.”
“Huh.” He made a grand, flourishing gesture. “Well, then. Mi casa es su casa.” He clapped his hands together. “Breakfast? I hope you realize how lucky you are that I haven’t fallen into a caffeine-deprived coma.”
John twitched his ears. Rodney shook his finger at him. “I’m serious.”
“Mrrrt?” John jumped to the chair and pawed at Rodney’s jacket.
“Right.” He shrugged into it and looked at John for permission to pick him up. John waved a paw at him.
“What?”
“Mrowr.” He held out his paw as high as he could reach, then lowered it to shoulder height, then just above the seat of the chair. ”Prrowr, mmmr, mmmrtgt.” He made the motion again, then deliberately extended his claws toward Rodney’s arm. “Mmmrt.”
“Oh! Oh, okay.”
John hopped back to the desk and Rodney knelt in front of him, letting him clamber onto his shoulders.
“Much less painful.”
John scent-marked his ear again.
“Is it just the one ear you are particularly enamored with?”
John just purred.
“You know, we should see if you can weasel some extra bacon - real bacon - from the mess staff.”
“Mrowr,” John replied, and Rodney could hear the amused drawl of John’s “real” voice.
“Just a thought, just a thought.”
John opened the door for them, still the perfect gentleman. Rodney bit down on yet another smile and headed for the mess, an unconsciously happy bounce in his step.