Fic: Lost and Found
Title: Lost and Found
Author: Macky
Genre: friendship, pre-slash, kid!fic
Rating: G
Word Count: 879
Summary: Really, if anyone had asked John what a seven-year-old Rodney McKay would be like, John would have probably choked on his food and thanked the Pegasus deities that they'd never have to know.
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything at all, much less anything related to the boys.
Author’s Notes: This was not at all the plot bunny that's been in my head for weeks. But I read telesilla's Unfolding Right Before My Eyes, after which she mentions that it's apparently International Blanket Fort Day. And then I just had to write a Blanket Fort Fic. I hope telesilla doesn't mind the pimpage, but everyone really does need a day devoted to Blanket Forts. This little fic will probably become a series at some point, now that I've started it.
“No!”
John sighed, again. He'd sighed more in one day than the past several years of his life.
“Rodney, come out. Carson needs to take your temperature and check your pulse and...all that other...stuff, that doctors do.”
“No! He wants to poke me, I know he does, and I don't like him, and I'm not coming out. Ever.”
Really, if anyone had asked John what a seven-year-old Rodney McKay would be like, John would have probably choked on his food and thanked the Pegasus deities that they'd never have to know. Damn peasants on M45-78G. If the Sacred Artifact of Rebirth and New Life starts glowing blue when the visitors show up, that does not mean it's a sign from the gods. And it really doesn't mean that it would be a good idea to throw said artifact at the first visitor to walk through the door, which happened to be McKay. He'd looked up from his handheld just in time to catch the oddly-shaped piece of equipment, and John had started to congratulate him on a quick response, but suddenly Rodney had been several feet shorter and several decades younger, and it had all gone to hell.
“He promises not to give you a shot, Rodney,” John tried to use his most comforting voice, before remembering that he didn't really have one. Elizabeth did, though. Maybe he should let her try.
“Colonel, you know I can't make any such promises before I've had a chance...” Carson started. John glared at him as the sounds from inside the blanket fort turned to whimpers. John wasn't sure where Rodney (especially Rodney at age seven) had managed to find all those blankets and pillows, but he wasn't surprised by the intricately balanced structure that lay before him. Of course Rodney had always been an engineer, even as a kid.
“He promises,” John said loudly. “He just wants to make sure you're okay, and then we'll go get pudding. Sound good?”
“Pudding sounds good,” Rodney's little voice (and wasn't that a trip?) drifted out from between the blankets. “Can't we just get pudding now, and not do any of that other stuff?”
John smiled. Rodney's voice might have been an octave higher, but the wheedling tone was unmistakable. And infinitely harder to say no to, which, considering how difficult it already was for John to refuse Rodney anything, was probably not a good sign.
“Come on, lad, let's get you out and done and then you can find your dessert,” Carson said kindly. John wished he could take notes on that tone. He had a feeling he'd need one like it, if Rodney stayed like this for very long.
There was a childish, put-upon sigh, and then one side of the fort parted, and a tiny face peeked out. Rodney's cheeks were bright pink, which John found ridiculously adorable, and his hair hung curly and blonde over his big, blue eyes. When he smiled-which had only been once since this whole ordeal happened-little dimples appeared beside his mouth. The entire science staff had decided he was the cutest thing ever, which is what had led to the blanket fort in the first place. Rodney was almost himself, with a lot of his own memories, but the concentration and emotional stability of a child. Too much attention, combined with his typical frustration with his staff, had led to a violent temper tantrum and Rodney running away. It had taken John several (terrifying) hours to find him, during which Rodney had made his way (towing about fifteen military issue blankets and ten or so case-free pillows) to the upper level of one of the minor towers. They'd all been relieved to find Rodney safe and mostly well, but Carson still insisted on doing a full physical. The villagers hadn't been clear about the possible side effects of the device, and John was pretty sure it had only worked once before. He didn't like what he'd heard from the town leader about how nice it had been to have a second childhood. Rodney might be a big fan of immortality, but John wasn't quite ready to wait another thirty years to have his best friend back.
“Out with you,” Carson smiled as Rodney shuffled forward, crawling on his hands and knees.
“Hey, buddy,” John said, trying to sound reassuring. Rodney stood, coming up to just above John's waist, and immediately grabbed John's hand. His other hand went straight to his face, thumb in mouth. John didn't want to think about the kind of trouble a seven-year-old thumbsucker would have had at school. He'd been the type of kid to pick on the outcasts, at least until he became one himself. He tightened his grip on Rodney's hand, smiling down at him. Rodney squeezed back and grinned up at John, dimples puckering his cheeks.
“Hi,” he said shyly.
“Ready to go get checked out?” Carson started to lead the way back towards the main part of the city. Rodney just nodded in response.
“And then pudding,” he said firmly, looking at John for affirmation.
“And then pudding,” John echoed, feeling a little tingle in his stomach, which was probably not related to hunger. He held on to Rodney's hand as they made their way to the infirmary.
Author: Macky
Genre: friendship, pre-slash, kid!fic
Rating: G
Word Count: 879
Summary: Really, if anyone had asked John what a seven-year-old Rodney McKay would be like, John would have probably choked on his food and thanked the Pegasus deities that they'd never have to know.
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything at all, much less anything related to the boys.
Author’s Notes: This was not at all the plot bunny that's been in my head for weeks. But I read telesilla's Unfolding Right Before My Eyes, after which she mentions that it's apparently International Blanket Fort Day. And then I just had to write a Blanket Fort Fic. I hope telesilla doesn't mind the pimpage, but everyone really does need a day devoted to Blanket Forts. This little fic will probably become a series at some point, now that I've started it.
“No!”
John sighed, again. He'd sighed more in one day than the past several years of his life.
“Rodney, come out. Carson needs to take your temperature and check your pulse and...all that other...stuff, that doctors do.”
“No! He wants to poke me, I know he does, and I don't like him, and I'm not coming out. Ever.”
Really, if anyone had asked John what a seven-year-old Rodney McKay would be like, John would have probably choked on his food and thanked the Pegasus deities that they'd never have to know. Damn peasants on M45-78G. If the Sacred Artifact of Rebirth and New Life starts glowing blue when the visitors show up, that does not mean it's a sign from the gods. And it really doesn't mean that it would be a good idea to throw said artifact at the first visitor to walk through the door, which happened to be McKay. He'd looked up from his handheld just in time to catch the oddly-shaped piece of equipment, and John had started to congratulate him on a quick response, but suddenly Rodney had been several feet shorter and several decades younger, and it had all gone to hell.
“He promises not to give you a shot, Rodney,” John tried to use his most comforting voice, before remembering that he didn't really have one. Elizabeth did, though. Maybe he should let her try.
“Colonel, you know I can't make any such promises before I've had a chance...” Carson started. John glared at him as the sounds from inside the blanket fort turned to whimpers. John wasn't sure where Rodney (especially Rodney at age seven) had managed to find all those blankets and pillows, but he wasn't surprised by the intricately balanced structure that lay before him. Of course Rodney had always been an engineer, even as a kid.
“He promises,” John said loudly. “He just wants to make sure you're okay, and then we'll go get pudding. Sound good?”
“Pudding sounds good,” Rodney's little voice (and wasn't that a trip?) drifted out from between the blankets. “Can't we just get pudding now, and not do any of that other stuff?”
John smiled. Rodney's voice might have been an octave higher, but the wheedling tone was unmistakable. And infinitely harder to say no to, which, considering how difficult it already was for John to refuse Rodney anything, was probably not a good sign.
“Come on, lad, let's get you out and done and then you can find your dessert,” Carson said kindly. John wished he could take notes on that tone. He had a feeling he'd need one like it, if Rodney stayed like this for very long.
There was a childish, put-upon sigh, and then one side of the fort parted, and a tiny face peeked out. Rodney's cheeks were bright pink, which John found ridiculously adorable, and his hair hung curly and blonde over his big, blue eyes. When he smiled-which had only been once since this whole ordeal happened-little dimples appeared beside his mouth. The entire science staff had decided he was the cutest thing ever, which is what had led to the blanket fort in the first place. Rodney was almost himself, with a lot of his own memories, but the concentration and emotional stability of a child. Too much attention, combined with his typical frustration with his staff, had led to a violent temper tantrum and Rodney running away. It had taken John several (terrifying) hours to find him, during which Rodney had made his way (towing about fifteen military issue blankets and ten or so case-free pillows) to the upper level of one of the minor towers. They'd all been relieved to find Rodney safe and mostly well, but Carson still insisted on doing a full physical. The villagers hadn't been clear about the possible side effects of the device, and John was pretty sure it had only worked once before. He didn't like what he'd heard from the town leader about how nice it had been to have a second childhood. Rodney might be a big fan of immortality, but John wasn't quite ready to wait another thirty years to have his best friend back.
“Out with you,” Carson smiled as Rodney shuffled forward, crawling on his hands and knees.
“Hey, buddy,” John said, trying to sound reassuring. Rodney stood, coming up to just above John's waist, and immediately grabbed John's hand. His other hand went straight to his face, thumb in mouth. John didn't want to think about the kind of trouble a seven-year-old thumbsucker would have had at school. He'd been the type of kid to pick on the outcasts, at least until he became one himself. He tightened his grip on Rodney's hand, smiling down at him. Rodney squeezed back and grinned up at John, dimples puckering his cheeks.
“Hi,” he said shyly.
“Ready to go get checked out?” Carson started to lead the way back towards the main part of the city. Rodney just nodded in response.
“And then pudding,” he said firmly, looking at John for affirmation.
“And then pudding,” John echoed, feeling a little tingle in his stomach, which was probably not related to hunger. He held on to Rodney's hand as they made their way to the infirmary.