Ficlet: All Better (1/1)
Jun. 28th, 2009 11:07 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
salixbabylonTitle: All Better
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
salixbabylon
Pairing: John/Rodney
Rating: PG
Word Count: 867
Disclaimer: Not mine. I just like to play with the pretties.
Summary: Rodney has an ingrown toenail.
Notes: Fordissonant_dream, in honor of another year. Thanks to tularia for the creative prompt. And of course to sarka for her help.
All Better
"But my toe hurts!"
"Shut the hell up and keep walking," John growled, scanning the forest around them for any signs of, well, anything other than plant life. Such as the trail they lost when Rodney needed to find an appropriately discreet plant to take a piss behind.
"Do you know what could happen if it gets infected? Blood poisoning! Gangrene! Carson said I should soak it in Epsom salts at least once a day and it's already been twenty-nine hours. Oh and my feet are wet. These stupid military-issue boots don't breathe. Doesn't the American government know how dangerous foot diseases can become?"
"Yes, Rodney, and they don't care. Now keep walking and keep looking for the path. We need to get back to the gate before Teyla and Ronon."
"Which was such a good idea, sending them off to deal with the natives while you and I snuck around the back entrance to the Ancient lab like a pair of thieves. We have every right to be here, first off, and then you had to get us lost, second. And I am so sick of the stupid Ancients leaving nearly-empty labs all over the galaxy. Making me think they might have something useful, but no, just some crackpot's experiments with flying primates. Also, what the hell was that about anyway; did every single scientist set up a secret laboratory to work on their private projects on isolated worlds? Were there really that many rules restricting their research? I don't think very much of Atlantis's scientific policies, if so."
"I don't know, Rodney. I'll be sure to ask the next Ancient we run into." John was pretty sure his friend missed the sarcastic tone in his voice, which wasn't exactly subtle, but then again neither was Rodney.
He rambled on and on, the sound of his bitching drowning out any birds or other creatures which might have been rustling in the trees and bushes. He grumbled until they found the path again, ranted as they walked all the way back around the village, and fumed the whole way to the gate, keeping up a steady monologue regarding how stupid the Ancients could be despite their technological advances, how maddening it was to keep getting his hopes up that he was about to discover a Zed-PM and only finding petrified 10,000 year old monkey poop, and, of course, his ingrown toenail, which was probably so infected that it would have to be amputated, if Carson managed to do so before Rodney died of septic shock.
Once back in Atlantis, Rodney insisted on heading straight for the infirmary, his limp growing more pronounced as he passed co-workers, and then miraculously disappearing once they were out of sight. Carson outright refused to look at the foot, delegating Rodney to a nurse who assured him again and again that it was fine, after rolling her eyes and treating it with antiseptic.
"Holistic imbeciles and their pseudoscience. 'Let the body fight off the infection by itself' indeed. That's what medicines are for! They all want me to die. They can't stand constantly being shown up by a genius who never had to bother studying their quackery to know what they're doing wrong."
For reasons he couldn't figure out, John was still with Rodney. He'd followed him to the infirmary, given the nurse a conciliatory smile as she dealt with the whining scientist, and was now following Rodney back to his quarters. It made no sense, especially given that the thing John wanted most in the world – no; galaxy – no; universe - was for Rodney to Shut The Hell Up.
Rodney swiped his hand to open his room and John put a firm palm on the middle of his friend's back, shoving him forward. "Sit," he ordered as he pushed Rodney down onto the bed and knelt beside it. Working quickly, he got Rodney's boots and socks off before Rodney had enough time to do more than sputter in confusion.
John made an obvious production of inspecting the toe in question, which was slightly pink and smelled of medical-grade alcohol. He glanced up at Rodney, who seemed gobsmacked and speechless, for once, and then kissed it.
"All better," he said, and slid Rodney's sock back on.
"You- You just- You kissed it."
"Yeah."
"With your- God, do you even know how many germs the human mouth has?" he accused.
John glared at him for a second before his expression changed into a predatory smirk. "How many?" he asked, moving his hands to Rodney's thighs and invading his space.
"Um. What are you- A lot. Like, trillions."
"Trillions, huh? That is a lot. Sounds disgusting," John murmured, pulling Rodney's head close enough so he could reach his lips. The kiss was gentle but open-mouthed, and lasted long enough to certainly guarantee a transference of germs, given that Rodney's tongue had darted out to touch John's in a tentative swipe just before he pulled away.
Rodney cleared his throat. "Well. Maybe not disgusting."
"No?"
"Well. Not entirely," he said, pulling John back for more, and kissing the laughter away. Many minutes later, or maybe it was hours, he added, "But my toe still hurts."
~end~
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Author:
salixbabylonPairing: John/Rodney
Rating: PG
Word Count: 867
Disclaimer: Not mine. I just like to play with the pretties.
Summary: Rodney has an ingrown toenail.
Notes: For
dissonant_dream, in honor of another year. Thanks to tularia for the creative prompt. And of course to sarka for her help.All Better
"But my toe hurts!"
"Shut the hell up and keep walking," John growled, scanning the forest around them for any signs of, well, anything other than plant life. Such as the trail they lost when Rodney needed to find an appropriately discreet plant to take a piss behind.
"Do you know what could happen if it gets infected? Blood poisoning! Gangrene! Carson said I should soak it in Epsom salts at least once a day and it's already been twenty-nine hours. Oh and my feet are wet. These stupid military-issue boots don't breathe. Doesn't the American government know how dangerous foot diseases can become?"
"Yes, Rodney, and they don't care. Now keep walking and keep looking for the path. We need to get back to the gate before Teyla and Ronon."
"Which was such a good idea, sending them off to deal with the natives while you and I snuck around the back entrance to the Ancient lab like a pair of thieves. We have every right to be here, first off, and then you had to get us lost, second. And I am so sick of the stupid Ancients leaving nearly-empty labs all over the galaxy. Making me think they might have something useful, but no, just some crackpot's experiments with flying primates. Also, what the hell was that about anyway; did every single scientist set up a secret laboratory to work on their private projects on isolated worlds? Were there really that many rules restricting their research? I don't think very much of Atlantis's scientific policies, if so."
"I don't know, Rodney. I'll be sure to ask the next Ancient we run into." John was pretty sure his friend missed the sarcastic tone in his voice, which wasn't exactly subtle, but then again neither was Rodney.
He rambled on and on, the sound of his bitching drowning out any birds or other creatures which might have been rustling in the trees and bushes. He grumbled until they found the path again, ranted as they walked all the way back around the village, and fumed the whole way to the gate, keeping up a steady monologue regarding how stupid the Ancients could be despite their technological advances, how maddening it was to keep getting his hopes up that he was about to discover a Zed-PM and only finding petrified 10,000 year old monkey poop, and, of course, his ingrown toenail, which was probably so infected that it would have to be amputated, if Carson managed to do so before Rodney died of septic shock.
Once back in Atlantis, Rodney insisted on heading straight for the infirmary, his limp growing more pronounced as he passed co-workers, and then miraculously disappearing once they were out of sight. Carson outright refused to look at the foot, delegating Rodney to a nurse who assured him again and again that it was fine, after rolling her eyes and treating it with antiseptic.
"Holistic imbeciles and their pseudoscience. 'Let the body fight off the infection by itself' indeed. That's what medicines are for! They all want me to die. They can't stand constantly being shown up by a genius who never had to bother studying their quackery to know what they're doing wrong."
For reasons he couldn't figure out, John was still with Rodney. He'd followed him to the infirmary, given the nurse a conciliatory smile as she dealt with the whining scientist, and was now following Rodney back to his quarters. It made no sense, especially given that the thing John wanted most in the world – no; galaxy – no; universe - was for Rodney to Shut The Hell Up.
Rodney swiped his hand to open his room and John put a firm palm on the middle of his friend's back, shoving him forward. "Sit," he ordered as he pushed Rodney down onto the bed and knelt beside it. Working quickly, he got Rodney's boots and socks off before Rodney had enough time to do more than sputter in confusion.
John made an obvious production of inspecting the toe in question, which was slightly pink and smelled of medical-grade alcohol. He glanced up at Rodney, who seemed gobsmacked and speechless, for once, and then kissed it.
"All better," he said, and slid Rodney's sock back on.
"You- You just- You kissed it."
"Yeah."
"With your- God, do you even know how many germs the human mouth has?" he accused.
John glared at him for a second before his expression changed into a predatory smirk. "How many?" he asked, moving his hands to Rodney's thighs and invading his space.
"Um. What are you- A lot. Like, trillions."
"Trillions, huh? That is a lot. Sounds disgusting," John murmured, pulling Rodney's head close enough so he could reach his lips. The kiss was gentle but open-mouthed, and lasted long enough to certainly guarantee a transference of germs, given that Rodney's tongue had darted out to touch John's in a tentative swipe just before he pulled away.
Rodney cleared his throat. "Well. Maybe not disgusting."
"No?"
"Well. Not entirely," he said, pulling John back for more, and kissing the laughter away. Many minutes later, or maybe it was hours, he added, "But my toe still hurts."
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![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-06-28 07:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-28 09:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-29 07:36 am (UTC)Oh, John. I love love love him following a bitching Rodney around even though he desperately wants him to shut up. And what success! I kind of love that John manages to be both sweetly nurturing and kind of an asshole with his kisses. Bless.
I would like to take a minute to sympathize with Rodney though. Ingrown toenails hurt like a son of a bitch!
no subject
Date: 2009-07-01 01:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-29 07:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-01 01:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-01 11:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-02 06:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-04 09:48 pm (UTC)ANyway, happy birthday! :)