Fic: Blossoms and Breeze, by yarnaddict (McShep, PG/FRT)
Title: Blossoms and Breeze
Author: yarnaddict
Word Count: 713
Rating: FRT (teens) for a little bit of language
Summary: John's Laundry meets Rodney's Allergies. John's Hair meets Rodney's Coffee.
Genre: McShep, crack, humour, established relationship
Archive: WraithBait, Area52, Crossroads. Anyone else, please ask. Thanks. =)
Disclaimer: The characters and concepts of Stargate: Atlantis are the property of MGM, and are used here without prejudice and without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. Febreze is the property of Proctor and Gamble.
AN: This is complete, utter, absolute crack. It's all slytherindyke's fault, too. =) And there's a teeny, tiny little bit of homage to lavvyan's Greenhouse AU. A teeny tiny bit.
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Clad in his only clean pair of boxers, John plucked a black t-shirt from the pile on the floor and sniffed at it, making a face. Then he shrugged and reached for the can of air freshener that had been included with the last distribution of toiletries, and sprayed the shirt liberally.
Rodney McKay, Ph.D., genius and hypochondriac, stepped out of the bathroom, drew a breath to rant about early morning staff meetings, and stopped, one finger held up, his nose twitching. As John glanced up with a wince, Rodney's eyes narrowed in a half-glare, half-pleading look. Then his hand waved ineffectively in front of his face as he bent forward and sneezed, twice, three times, four, and finally straightened to pin John with a patented Rodney McKay Death Glare™.
"What the hell are you doing? What is that? It smells like a greenhah... ah..." Rodney trailed off, muffled another trio of sneezes against his sleeve, and just glared.
John had the grace to look sheepish as he held up the can. "It's air freshener. I'm out of clean shirts."
Rodney's eyes widened over the sleeve of his jacket. "So you're spraying them with... what is that?" He marched forward, arm still held in front of his face, and snatched the can out of John's hand. "Blossoms and Breeze Air Effects? Are you serious? Instead of just doing your damn laundry, you found a can of... of... dammit... hah-tchoo! Gah! Get this stuff out of here! Tell your pet City to cycle the air in this room, or something!" He thrust the can back into John's hand and took two steps back.
John stared at him, brows squinched together in amused - or bemused - confusion. "Uh... okaaaay..." He did ask the City to cycle the air in the room, and the HVAC system kicked up a few notches. "There, that should, uh... seriously, the air spray makes you sneeze? I mean, it just smells like flowers. It's not like it's probably got any real pollen in it or anything."
Rodney was still glaring at him, his eyes narrowing even further, and John held up both hands - one still clutching the can of air freshener - and backed up. "Okay, okay, sorry I asked. Look, I haven't had time to get my laundry done..." He trailed off when Rodney actually gave a little growl. "Okay, I haven't made time to do my laundry, and now I'm out of clean shirts. It's either this or go to the staff meeting smelling like... well, like I'm wearing a dirty shirt."
"So instead you decided to go to the staff meeting smelling like a greenhouse?" Rodney snapped at him, finally lowering his arm. "Are you insane? Jesus, wear one of my black shirts and... there, those jeans were only worn for a few hours the other night. Wear them."
"Rodney, I can't wear jeans to a staff meeting. They're not part of the uniform."
"Right now, Colonel, I don't give a damn. You're not wearing anything that's been sprayed with that stuff." Rodney gestured at the can of Febreze like it was related to the Wraith. "You know where my clean shirts are. Come on, come on, I don't want to be late to the meeting."
Twenty minutes later, John and Rodney walked into the senior staff meeting just two minutes late. Rodney's nose was red and he was carrying a box of tissue. John's hair was wet and sticky, and he was shooting Rodney his own version of the Death Glare™. They sat down as far away from each other as possible.
Ronon, seated next to the chair John took, sniffed at the air and frowned before leaning over and sniffing at John. His frown deepened. "Sheppard, why does your hair smell like flowers?"
At the same moment, Elizabeth walked in and moved to her seat. She, too, sniffed at the air. "Has someone been spraying Febreze Blossoms and Breeze in here?"
The two comments, one right after the other, made Rodney choke on his coffee and he jerked forward, hastily setting down the mug and swiping at the spill dampening the front of his shirt.
No one understood why Rodney stood up and dumped the rest of his coffee over John’s head when Sheppard cheerfully asked, "Hey, when you wash that out, will you wash my shirts, too?"
Author: yarnaddict
Word Count: 713
Rating: FRT (teens) for a little bit of language
Summary: John's Laundry meets Rodney's Allergies. John's Hair meets Rodney's Coffee.
Genre: McShep, crack, humour, established relationship
Archive: WraithBait, Area52, Crossroads. Anyone else, please ask. Thanks. =)
Disclaimer: The characters and concepts of Stargate: Atlantis are the property of MGM, and are used here without prejudice and without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. Febreze is the property of Proctor and Gamble.
AN: This is complete, utter, absolute crack. It's all slytherindyke's fault, too. =) And there's a teeny, tiny little bit of homage to lavvyan's Greenhouse AU. A teeny tiny bit.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Clad in his only clean pair of boxers, John plucked a black t-shirt from the pile on the floor and sniffed at it, making a face. Then he shrugged and reached for the can of air freshener that had been included with the last distribution of toiletries, and sprayed the shirt liberally.
Rodney McKay, Ph.D., genius and hypochondriac, stepped out of the bathroom, drew a breath to rant about early morning staff meetings, and stopped, one finger held up, his nose twitching. As John glanced up with a wince, Rodney's eyes narrowed in a half-glare, half-pleading look. Then his hand waved ineffectively in front of his face as he bent forward and sneezed, twice, three times, four, and finally straightened to pin John with a patented Rodney McKay Death Glare™.
"What the hell are you doing? What is that? It smells like a greenhah... ah..." Rodney trailed off, muffled another trio of sneezes against his sleeve, and just glared.
John had the grace to look sheepish as he held up the can. "It's air freshener. I'm out of clean shirts."
Rodney's eyes widened over the sleeve of his jacket. "So you're spraying them with... what is that?" He marched forward, arm still held in front of his face, and snatched the can out of John's hand. "Blossoms and Breeze Air Effects? Are you serious? Instead of just doing your damn laundry, you found a can of... of... dammit... hah-tchoo! Gah! Get this stuff out of here! Tell your pet City to cycle the air in this room, or something!" He thrust the can back into John's hand and took two steps back.
John stared at him, brows squinched together in amused - or bemused - confusion. "Uh... okaaaay..." He did ask the City to cycle the air in the room, and the HVAC system kicked up a few notches. "There, that should, uh... seriously, the air spray makes you sneeze? I mean, it just smells like flowers. It's not like it's probably got any real pollen in it or anything."
Rodney was still glaring at him, his eyes narrowing even further, and John held up both hands - one still clutching the can of air freshener - and backed up. "Okay, okay, sorry I asked. Look, I haven't had time to get my laundry done..." He trailed off when Rodney actually gave a little growl. "Okay, I haven't made time to do my laundry, and now I'm out of clean shirts. It's either this or go to the staff meeting smelling like... well, like I'm wearing a dirty shirt."
"So instead you decided to go to the staff meeting smelling like a greenhouse?" Rodney snapped at him, finally lowering his arm. "Are you insane? Jesus, wear one of my black shirts and... there, those jeans were only worn for a few hours the other night. Wear them."
"Rodney, I can't wear jeans to a staff meeting. They're not part of the uniform."
"Right now, Colonel, I don't give a damn. You're not wearing anything that's been sprayed with that stuff." Rodney gestured at the can of Febreze like it was related to the Wraith. "You know where my clean shirts are. Come on, come on, I don't want to be late to the meeting."
Twenty minutes later, John and Rodney walked into the senior staff meeting just two minutes late. Rodney's nose was red and he was carrying a box of tissue. John's hair was wet and sticky, and he was shooting Rodney his own version of the Death Glare™. They sat down as far away from each other as possible.
Ronon, seated next to the chair John took, sniffed at the air and frowned before leaning over and sniffing at John. His frown deepened. "Sheppard, why does your hair smell like flowers?"
At the same moment, Elizabeth walked in and moved to her seat. She, too, sniffed at the air. "Has someone been spraying Febreze Blossoms and Breeze in here?"
The two comments, one right after the other, made Rodney choke on his coffee and he jerked forward, hastily setting down the mug and swiping at the spill dampening the front of his shirt.
No one understood why Rodney stood up and dumped the rest of his coffee over John’s head when Sheppard cheerfully asked, "Hey, when you wash that out, will you wash my shirts, too?"