Fic: Are You Naked Under That Thing? (Gen, PG)
Title: Are You Naked Under That Thing?
Author: roaringmice
Recipient: rysler
Pairings/Characters: Gen, although references to an old, in-canon relationship / McKay, Sheppard
Rating: PG
Summary: "I'm here because I received a phone call at midnight from Jennifer, who, by the way, works at the damn hospital where they'd taken you, telling me that you'd been seriously hurt, so I get halfway to the hospital when she calls and tells me you'd checked yourself out. And here you are, at home, in your..." He frowned. "Are you naked under that thing?"
Author's Notes: Recipient wanted post series, Earth-based, angst, hurt/comfort, humor, and other things. I hope I've given her at least some of that.
x-x
"Why are you here?" John asked, clearly annoyed. He stood in the doorway of his apartment, body filling its space in what Rodney took to be a deliberate attempt to block him from entry.
"Here?" Rodney answered, exasperated and slightly out-of-breath from his mad dash up the building's staircase. "I'm here because I received a phone call at midnight from Jennifer, who, by the way, works at the damn hospital where they'd taken you, telling me that you'd been seriously hurt, so I get halfway to the hospital when she calls and tells me you'd checked yourself out." He did a quick once-over visually, throwing a hand in John's general direction when he found no obvious injuries. "And here you are, at home, in your..." He frowned. "Are you naked under that thing?"
"I was sleeping, McKay," John said, flatly, hands self-consciously pulling his short robe closed across his chest.
"Since when do you sleep naked?" Rodney shot back.
"Since I retired from the military, and no longer have to worry about being woken in the middle of the night by a Wraith attack or whatever the next 'evil alien wants to eat our heads' or... whatever crap that..." John hissed, voice trailing off.
"You were worried about aliens seeing you naked?" Rodney said with a sarcastic rise of the eyebrow, adrenaline and annoyance turning his tendency toward snark up to level ten.
John closed his eyes for a moment, as if gathering strength. Then he glanced up and down the corridor, obviously checking their risk of being overheard. "Listen, I'm fine," he said firmly. "It was nothing. Jennifer overreacted."
"Really?" Rodney asked, not believing that one for a minute. Jennifer's time as Atlantis' head doctor had long ago knocked any tendency toward overreaction out of her. If she said John had been in a serious accident, then he'd been in a serious accident. And Rodney could tell - he'd known John long enough to understand what that particular strain around his eyes meant. The man was in pain.
Rodney heard a door click open somewhere down the hallway. John obviously heard it as well, because with a roll of his eyes and a muttered swear, he moved aside and waved Rodney in.
Rodney's eyes roved the room as he entered. All was almost exactly as it had been when last he'd been there a couple weeks ago - same green sofa with the tear in the arm, white batting puffing through the rip. Same dusty flat-screen tv across the room, DVDs and their cases scattered around it. Same ugly plaid blanket crumpled on the floor beside the sofa. Same - oh, God, that was probably the same pizza box from the pizza they'd ordered. Rodney was no model of neatness, but he had John beat by a mile. The only measurable change to the place was one tiny, sad looking fake Christmas tree stood leaning against the wall next to the tv, white lights blinking forlornly, a few crumpled boxes, gift wrap torn, tossed beside it. Thing wasn't even in a tree stand.
He turned to offer John his commentary on the state of the place, when he noticed John's shuffling gait and wince of pain as he moved toward the sofa. Rodney was at his side in a moment, wordlessly helping his friend to a seat. Sitting beside him carefully, so as not to jar the cushions, Rodney asked, "What happened?" all anger and sarcasm gone.
John shifted uncomfortably. Finally settled, he looked at Rodney. "Bar fight."
"Bar fight," Rodney said, blinking rapidly.
John nodded.
"You don't go to bars," Rodney said. When John didn't respond, he frowned. "You don't even drink any more," he added, voice rising, hands sculpting his frustration as he spoke. "How in the hell did you - ?"
John spoke across him. "It wasn't my bar fight." He said no more.
After a long moment of silence, Rodney repeated, "It wasn't your..." He threw up his hands. "Can you not, just for once, just come out and tell me what the hell happened without me having to pull the information out of you? I mean, we've known each other for what, ten years? You'd think by now that -"
The look on John's face stopped him in his tracks.
"You're doing this bit on purpose, aren't you?" Rodney asked, suddenly realizing that John was being intentionally elusive.
"You did wake me up, McKay."
Rodney sighed, and sank back on the couch. "So, what the hell happened?"
"It actually was a bar fight," John said, using both hands to adjust the position of his left leg. "I was Christmas shopping, so I was on the street, and the fight spilled out of this bar I was passing. I ended up in the middle of this thing, and some guy had a knife."
"A knife," Rodney said, heart leaping into his throat despite John's presence, solid and reassuring, right beside him.
"He got me here, and here," John said, hand moving from his thigh to his side. "The presents took the brunt of it." John gave a short laugh. "Teyla would have been proud of my ability to improvise defensive weapons out of boxes and ribbons."
Rodney gave him a disbelieving grimace.
John tried a different tack. "The wounds weren't very deep, and it's Christmas eve, and..." He hesitated.
"And?" Rodney said expectantly.
John actually blushed under Rodney's glare, and finally admitted, "And I told them that my best friend's girlfriend was a doctor, and you'd pick me up."
"Ex-girlfriend," Rodney said automatically.
"I didn't tell them that. I figured 'girlfriend' sounded more..." John made a vague circle with his hand.
Rodney waved him off, knowing what he meant. "So you lied to the doctors, and checked yourself out.
"Yeah."
"Then you came home to your apartment, alone."
"Yeah."
"Without calling me."
"Yeah," John repeated again, at least this time looking a bit chagrined.
"You know Jennifer's going to kill you, right?"
"Yeah," John said, seeming to shrink into the couch. "Not to mention that it was her present that got..." He winced.
As Rodney reached into his pocket for his phone, John said, "You sure you have to tell her?"
Rodney raised one disbelieving brow. "Yeah," he echoed sharply, deliberately using the same word that John had. At the look on John's face, he relented. "I'll tell her you were addled by the drugs the docs gave you, didn't know what you were doing."
"Thanks, man." John yawned. "She makes a mean cheesecake. I'd hate to get on her bad side so close to Christmas, miss out on that..." He yawned again, rubbing a hand across his face.
Rodney grabbed the blanket from beside the couch and, standing, placed it gently over John's legs. "Get some sleep."
John gave him one of his half-smiles, eyes already closed.
Rodney sat back down on the couch, hand reaching for the tv remote. He flicked the box on, lowered the volume, and glanced over at his friend. John's breathing had already gone heavy.
He'd text Jennifer in a few minutes, once John was fully asleep. She could come over and check on him once her shift was over; maybe he'd have her bring the cheesecake she'd made for tomorrow. He looked at the tiny tree where it leaned against the wall. Maybe he'd have her bring over a tree stand, and some ornaments. His eyes continued around the room. And a vacuum.
He reached for his phone.
"Ask her to bring the cheesecake," John murmured, voice heavy with sleep.
"You are such an ass," Rodney replied.
"Merry Christmas to you, too, Rodney," John said.
"Yeah, whatever," Rodney replied, but that wasn't what he meant at all.
x-x
Author: roaringmice
Recipient: rysler
Pairings/Characters: Gen, although references to an old, in-canon relationship / McKay, Sheppard
Rating: PG
Summary: "I'm here because I received a phone call at midnight from Jennifer, who, by the way, works at the damn hospital where they'd taken you, telling me that you'd been seriously hurt, so I get halfway to the hospital when she calls and tells me you'd checked yourself out. And here you are, at home, in your..." He frowned. "Are you naked under that thing?"
Author's Notes: Recipient wanted post series, Earth-based, angst, hurt/comfort, humor, and other things. I hope I've given her at least some of that.
x-x
"Why are you here?" John asked, clearly annoyed. He stood in the doorway of his apartment, body filling its space in what Rodney took to be a deliberate attempt to block him from entry.
"Here?" Rodney answered, exasperated and slightly out-of-breath from his mad dash up the building's staircase. "I'm here because I received a phone call at midnight from Jennifer, who, by the way, works at the damn hospital where they'd taken you, telling me that you'd been seriously hurt, so I get halfway to the hospital when she calls and tells me you'd checked yourself out." He did a quick once-over visually, throwing a hand in John's general direction when he found no obvious injuries. "And here you are, at home, in your..." He frowned. "Are you naked under that thing?"
"I was sleeping, McKay," John said, flatly, hands self-consciously pulling his short robe closed across his chest.
"Since when do you sleep naked?" Rodney shot back.
"Since I retired from the military, and no longer have to worry about being woken in the middle of the night by a Wraith attack or whatever the next 'evil alien wants to eat our heads' or... whatever crap that..." John hissed, voice trailing off.
"You were worried about aliens seeing you naked?" Rodney said with a sarcastic rise of the eyebrow, adrenaline and annoyance turning his tendency toward snark up to level ten.
John closed his eyes for a moment, as if gathering strength. Then he glanced up and down the corridor, obviously checking their risk of being overheard. "Listen, I'm fine," he said firmly. "It was nothing. Jennifer overreacted."
"Really?" Rodney asked, not believing that one for a minute. Jennifer's time as Atlantis' head doctor had long ago knocked any tendency toward overreaction out of her. If she said John had been in a serious accident, then he'd been in a serious accident. And Rodney could tell - he'd known John long enough to understand what that particular strain around his eyes meant. The man was in pain.
Rodney heard a door click open somewhere down the hallway. John obviously heard it as well, because with a roll of his eyes and a muttered swear, he moved aside and waved Rodney in.
Rodney's eyes roved the room as he entered. All was almost exactly as it had been when last he'd been there a couple weeks ago - same green sofa with the tear in the arm, white batting puffing through the rip. Same dusty flat-screen tv across the room, DVDs and their cases scattered around it. Same ugly plaid blanket crumpled on the floor beside the sofa. Same - oh, God, that was probably the same pizza box from the pizza they'd ordered. Rodney was no model of neatness, but he had John beat by a mile. The only measurable change to the place was one tiny, sad looking fake Christmas tree stood leaning against the wall next to the tv, white lights blinking forlornly, a few crumpled boxes, gift wrap torn, tossed beside it. Thing wasn't even in a tree stand.
He turned to offer John his commentary on the state of the place, when he noticed John's shuffling gait and wince of pain as he moved toward the sofa. Rodney was at his side in a moment, wordlessly helping his friend to a seat. Sitting beside him carefully, so as not to jar the cushions, Rodney asked, "What happened?" all anger and sarcasm gone.
John shifted uncomfortably. Finally settled, he looked at Rodney. "Bar fight."
"Bar fight," Rodney said, blinking rapidly.
John nodded.
"You don't go to bars," Rodney said. When John didn't respond, he frowned. "You don't even drink any more," he added, voice rising, hands sculpting his frustration as he spoke. "How in the hell did you - ?"
John spoke across him. "It wasn't my bar fight." He said no more.
After a long moment of silence, Rodney repeated, "It wasn't your..." He threw up his hands. "Can you not, just for once, just come out and tell me what the hell happened without me having to pull the information out of you? I mean, we've known each other for what, ten years? You'd think by now that -"
The look on John's face stopped him in his tracks.
"You're doing this bit on purpose, aren't you?" Rodney asked, suddenly realizing that John was being intentionally elusive.
"You did wake me up, McKay."
Rodney sighed, and sank back on the couch. "So, what the hell happened?"
"It actually was a bar fight," John said, using both hands to adjust the position of his left leg. "I was Christmas shopping, so I was on the street, and the fight spilled out of this bar I was passing. I ended up in the middle of this thing, and some guy had a knife."
"A knife," Rodney said, heart leaping into his throat despite John's presence, solid and reassuring, right beside him.
"He got me here, and here," John said, hand moving from his thigh to his side. "The presents took the brunt of it." John gave a short laugh. "Teyla would have been proud of my ability to improvise defensive weapons out of boxes and ribbons."
Rodney gave him a disbelieving grimace.
John tried a different tack. "The wounds weren't very deep, and it's Christmas eve, and..." He hesitated.
"And?" Rodney said expectantly.
John actually blushed under Rodney's glare, and finally admitted, "And I told them that my best friend's girlfriend was a doctor, and you'd pick me up."
"Ex-girlfriend," Rodney said automatically.
"I didn't tell them that. I figured 'girlfriend' sounded more..." John made a vague circle with his hand.
Rodney waved him off, knowing what he meant. "So you lied to the doctors, and checked yourself out.
"Yeah."
"Then you came home to your apartment, alone."
"Yeah."
"Without calling me."
"Yeah," John repeated again, at least this time looking a bit chagrined.
"You know Jennifer's going to kill you, right?"
"Yeah," John said, seeming to shrink into the couch. "Not to mention that it was her present that got..." He winced.
As Rodney reached into his pocket for his phone, John said, "You sure you have to tell her?"
Rodney raised one disbelieving brow. "Yeah," he echoed sharply, deliberately using the same word that John had. At the look on John's face, he relented. "I'll tell her you were addled by the drugs the docs gave you, didn't know what you were doing."
"Thanks, man." John yawned. "She makes a mean cheesecake. I'd hate to get on her bad side so close to Christmas, miss out on that..." He yawned again, rubbing a hand across his face.
Rodney grabbed the blanket from beside the couch and, standing, placed it gently over John's legs. "Get some sleep."
John gave him one of his half-smiles, eyes already closed.
Rodney sat back down on the couch, hand reaching for the tv remote. He flicked the box on, lowered the volume, and glanced over at his friend. John's breathing had already gone heavy.
He'd text Jennifer in a few minutes, once John was fully asleep. She could come over and check on him once her shift was over; maybe he'd have her bring the cheesecake she'd made for tomorrow. He looked at the tiny tree where it leaned against the wall. Maybe he'd have her bring over a tree stand, and some ornaments. His eyes continued around the room. And a vacuum.
He reached for his phone.
"Ask her to bring the cheesecake," John murmured, voice heavy with sleep.
"You are such an ass," Rodney replied.
"Merry Christmas to you, too, Rodney," John said.
"Yeah, whatever," Rodney replied, but that wasn't what he meant at all.
x-x