Five Things (Sam/Rodney) PG
For greenpear. (I changed the wording a bit in your request, but it's close to the same thing.)
Five Ways Sam Decides That She and Rodney Should Have Babies:
1. She’s always gone for the wounded heroes before now. The men with dangerous eyes and a steady gaze. Janet teases her that 6 million years of evolution haven’t siphoned the desire for the alpha-male out of her genius mind yet. After Jonas, Sam sort of gives up. She has her career and it’s more fulfilling than anything else she has ever known.
And then she meets Rodney McKay, and she hates him. He’s mean and condescending and has more arrogance than the rest of the human race put together. He’s also brilliant and awkward and irritating. He flusters her, and she hates that.
But he makes her want to fight again, and when he tilts his head just so he looks a little… noble.
She wonders what their kids would look like.
+
2. Sam decides it’s time to start a family during an Athosian summer festival. Teyla’s people have pulled out all the stops and the food is wonderful. The summer wine is flowing and the breeze is warm and light. She’s sitting with Elizabeth and Radek, laughing as one of the younger children attaches himself to Rodney. Rodney sputters and reddens and walks in a circle dragging his leg, the child clinging to his knee with both arms.
“This isn’t funny!” he protests. “How do I shake him off?”
“He’s a kid, Rodney, not a flea!” John is crowing from across the table.
“I’m not good with kids!” Rodney insists.
Sam smiles at him as he finally leans down and tries to pry the kid’s hands off of his leg. “They like you, Rodney. I think you’d make a great father… with a little incentive.”
His head jerks up and he stares at her. “Really?” There’s an edge of hope to his voice.
She smiles. He smiles back and pulls the kid onto his back for a ride.
+
3. On their first date, somehow, citrus makes its way unknowingly into Rodney’s food.
On the way to the hospital she holds his hand while he wheezes and rants about suing the restaurant and putting every employee there in prison.
“You’re going to be fine, Rodney,” she tells him, lifting her gaze to the medic’s to be sure. The medic nods and smiles.
“No, I’m not! I can’t breathe! I’m dying!”
“Sir, if you’d just stop talking so much, you might be able to breathe easier.” The medic tries his foolish logic on McKay.
That inspires a whole new spurt of ranting, and Sam just holds his hand and rolls her eyes.
In the Emergency room, the doctors give him Epinephrine and then leave them alone. Sam can already tell it’s working and the reaction wasn’t very severe to begin with. Even so, Rodney lies as if on his deathbed. His eyelids droop and he weakly squeezes her hand, his voice raspy. Sam has to fight to keep the long-suffering sigh from escaping.
“I love your eyes,” he rasps as if they were his last words on Earth. “When you get married and have children, I hope they get your eyes.”
She stares at him and then brings his hand to her lips. His eyelids flutter and then open wide. She grins. “And I hope they have your--” she hesitates, thinking furiously. “--Confidence,” she finally finishes.
They’re in her car and going home an hour later.
+
4. She’s in the middle of a complicated math equation when it hits her. He’s sitting across the table from her working the same equation, so they can compare their results and be sure of the solution. The room is quiet-- a blessedly rare event when Rodney is around-- but the math consumes his mind and he’s silent. His eyes follow his pencil, and she can hear the soft skritch of the graphite across the paper. His lips move wordlessly from time to time, and she recognizes each integer as he draws it out. It’s a language they share.
His fingers are lean and sure and quick, and his nails are short and neat. The light glints from the dark hairs on the back of his hand. They don’t often do math with pencil and paper anymore, but in Atlantis you sometimes have to fall back on the old way of life.
She loves him like this: simple, focused, silent and brilliant. She loves his hands and the delicate work they can do.
“Rodney,” she says quietly.
“Mmmm?” He doesn’t look up but the corners of his mouth quirk upward.
“I think we should have a baby.”
The pencil scrawls a startled, jagged line across the paper.
Sam glances up from his hands and finds him staring wide-eyed at her. “Rodney?”
He blinks at her. “Okay.”
+
5. He smiles at her over the breakfast table, his eyes happy and bright. It’s one of his rare smiles, the genuine deal with no arrogance or smirking. It’s a special event, and it makes her heart take a little jump as he focuses on her. She didn’t expect to meet him for dinner on a Friday and then keep him around until breakfast on Sunday.
He smiles and it’s unguarded. He has no defenses up and she could kill him with a word. He’s falling gladly.
She smiles back and hooks her foot around his ankle under the table. He never does leave.
Five Ways Sam Decides That She and Rodney Should Have Babies:
1. She’s always gone for the wounded heroes before now. The men with dangerous eyes and a steady gaze. Janet teases her that 6 million years of evolution haven’t siphoned the desire for the alpha-male out of her genius mind yet. After Jonas, Sam sort of gives up. She has her career and it’s more fulfilling than anything else she has ever known.
And then she meets Rodney McKay, and she hates him. He’s mean and condescending and has more arrogance than the rest of the human race put together. He’s also brilliant and awkward and irritating. He flusters her, and she hates that.
But he makes her want to fight again, and when he tilts his head just so he looks a little… noble.
She wonders what their kids would look like.
+
2. Sam decides it’s time to start a family during an Athosian summer festival. Teyla’s people have pulled out all the stops and the food is wonderful. The summer wine is flowing and the breeze is warm and light. She’s sitting with Elizabeth and Radek, laughing as one of the younger children attaches himself to Rodney. Rodney sputters and reddens and walks in a circle dragging his leg, the child clinging to his knee with both arms.
“This isn’t funny!” he protests. “How do I shake him off?”
“He’s a kid, Rodney, not a flea!” John is crowing from across the table.
“I’m not good with kids!” Rodney insists.
Sam smiles at him as he finally leans down and tries to pry the kid’s hands off of his leg. “They like you, Rodney. I think you’d make a great father… with a little incentive.”
His head jerks up and he stares at her. “Really?” There’s an edge of hope to his voice.
She smiles. He smiles back and pulls the kid onto his back for a ride.
+
3. On their first date, somehow, citrus makes its way unknowingly into Rodney’s food.
On the way to the hospital she holds his hand while he wheezes and rants about suing the restaurant and putting every employee there in prison.
“You’re going to be fine, Rodney,” she tells him, lifting her gaze to the medic’s to be sure. The medic nods and smiles.
“No, I’m not! I can’t breathe! I’m dying!”
“Sir, if you’d just stop talking so much, you might be able to breathe easier.” The medic tries his foolish logic on McKay.
That inspires a whole new spurt of ranting, and Sam just holds his hand and rolls her eyes.
In the Emergency room, the doctors give him Epinephrine and then leave them alone. Sam can already tell it’s working and the reaction wasn’t very severe to begin with. Even so, Rodney lies as if on his deathbed. His eyelids droop and he weakly squeezes her hand, his voice raspy. Sam has to fight to keep the long-suffering sigh from escaping.
“I love your eyes,” he rasps as if they were his last words on Earth. “When you get married and have children, I hope they get your eyes.”
She stares at him and then brings his hand to her lips. His eyelids flutter and then open wide. She grins. “And I hope they have your--” she hesitates, thinking furiously. “--Confidence,” she finally finishes.
They’re in her car and going home an hour later.
+
4. She’s in the middle of a complicated math equation when it hits her. He’s sitting across the table from her working the same equation, so they can compare their results and be sure of the solution. The room is quiet-- a blessedly rare event when Rodney is around-- but the math consumes his mind and he’s silent. His eyes follow his pencil, and she can hear the soft skritch of the graphite across the paper. His lips move wordlessly from time to time, and she recognizes each integer as he draws it out. It’s a language they share.
His fingers are lean and sure and quick, and his nails are short and neat. The light glints from the dark hairs on the back of his hand. They don’t often do math with pencil and paper anymore, but in Atlantis you sometimes have to fall back on the old way of life.
She loves him like this: simple, focused, silent and brilliant. She loves his hands and the delicate work they can do.
“Rodney,” she says quietly.
“Mmmm?” He doesn’t look up but the corners of his mouth quirk upward.
“I think we should have a baby.”
The pencil scrawls a startled, jagged line across the paper.
Sam glances up from his hands and finds him staring wide-eyed at her. “Rodney?”
He blinks at her. “Okay.”
+
5. He smiles at her over the breakfast table, his eyes happy and bright. It’s one of his rare smiles, the genuine deal with no arrogance or smirking. It’s a special event, and it makes her heart take a little jump as he focuses on her. She didn’t expect to meet him for dinner on a Friday and then keep him around until breakfast on Sunday.
He smiles and it’s unguarded. He has no defenses up and she could kill him with a word. He’s falling gladly.
She smiles back and hooks her foot around his ankle under the table. He never does leave.