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sga_flashficChallenge: The Swimming Challenge
Title: Drown Fear in Goblets
Category: slash (but mildly so)
Rating: PG-13
Author: Brighid
Summary: Well. Drowning a hero had to beat anaphylaxis.
Spoilers: Before I Sleep
Drown Fear in Goblets
Rodney is sitting in the bathtub of a two-bedroom east tower apartment getting very drunk on Athosian cider. It's taking a while to do it because he knows how to pace himself, having toyed briefly with becoming a professional drunk when he'd hit nineteen; almost twenty years later he still had all the right moves, and really, it was mostly about timing.
He'd drowned.
Well, some other him drowned, but still. Elizabeth, at best, had created a branching time stream, so the Rodney she had known was still dead and gone. Probably pasty and bloated and falling to bits, actually.
In the grand scheme of things, he figured it could be worse. He's read all the quantum mirror studies, even got to play with it for a while. He knows there are countless universes where he's dead. At least in the one he knows about for sure he died a hero. He has a sneaking suspicion that in all too many he died of anaphylaxis, and that seems somehow just *embarrassing*.
And at least once, he's pretty sure he must have choked on his own vomit, before he got really good at getting just drunk enough.
He hears the door whoosh, and John's voice. "Rodney. Still checking out the real estate?"
"Always. I need an office. I do important scientific things at all hours. Having an office minimizes the chance I have to spend all hours with Kavanaugh." He waves the bottle in greeting as John wanders in. "Wanna drink?"
John raises an eyebrow at him, and yeah, he's Kirk, but he's also got that lean, rangy Spock thing going on. It's a bit of turn-on, really. "Yeah, if only to spare your liver. How drunk are you, anyway?" he asks conversationally as he sits on the wide ledge of the sunken bath.
Rodney gives the question all the consideration it deserves, gnawing slightly on his lip as John takes a swig from the bottle. "I'd say, toasted. I've definitely passed tipsy, and I can see schnockered from here, but not hammered or even, dare I say, blotto."
John nods, takes another swig. "Good to know. So. Think you'll be investing in the east tower, then?"
"I hear the Wraith might be moving in," Rodney says, and he's smiling at John, who's smiling back at him. "I'm going to wait and see if it drives the prices down, first."
"They'd make lousy neighbours. Probably listening to Manson at all hours," John said warningly, and Rodney smiles at him again.
"I'd just play Nine Inch Nails back at them. You know what's weird?" He points around the bathroom, and out into the rooms beyond. "Ancient family quarters."
"Well, you see, a Mama Ancient and a Daddy Ancient ... ooooof!" John exhales suddenly when Rodney manages to connect his hand to the other man's stomach. "Okay, odd. What's odd?"
"Just never pictured them as having kids. I mean, they all went glowy," and he waves his hands again in something that's supposed to convey glowiness. "Did the kids, too? Are they like, I don't know, little baby squids of light?"
"You're a very weird drunk," John says. And then, "Room in there for two?"
Rodney nods and scoots over and John's beside him, his arm around Rodney. "So. You died."
"Saving your ass," Rodney says, but the defensiveness has gone out of it.
"Yeah," says John. "I know."
"You died, too," Rodney says at last. "Which pisses me off, considering the effort I made to get you out of there alive." He thinks hard and a single, powerful jet of water goes off, squirting John. "Score one for gene therapy," he says, shielding himself as John shakes his head dry.
"You *asshole*!" but he's laughing. And then John's arm tightens around Rodney and he kisses his temple. "I want to fuck you, you know. Right now. Are you sober enough for that?"
Rodney turns his head to the side and smiles at John. "Yeah. But not in the tub. I hear a lot of people get killed in the bathroom. Since I've already set the bar high for myself in terms of noble deaths, I'd like to avoid that."
"We can do that. One of the bedrooms has a very large mattress. And a headboard." John kisses him wetly, lewdly.
"Traction and friction." Rodney says. "You know how to talk dirty to a physicist, don't you?"
"I try," John replies, getting carefully out of the tub. He helps Rodney out, too, and they stand in the bathroom and neck like teenagers for a little while and Rodney is surrounded by water and he can't breathe but it's okay, because he's not there alone.
Brighid 2005
Title: Drown Fear in Goblets
Category: slash (but mildly so)
Rating: PG-13
Author: Brighid
Summary: Well. Drowning a hero had to beat anaphylaxis.
Spoilers: Before I Sleep
Drown Fear in Goblets
Rodney is sitting in the bathtub of a two-bedroom east tower apartment getting very drunk on Athosian cider. It's taking a while to do it because he knows how to pace himself, having toyed briefly with becoming a professional drunk when he'd hit nineteen; almost twenty years later he still had all the right moves, and really, it was mostly about timing.
He'd drowned.
Well, some other him drowned, but still. Elizabeth, at best, had created a branching time stream, so the Rodney she had known was still dead and gone. Probably pasty and bloated and falling to bits, actually.
In the grand scheme of things, he figured it could be worse. He's read all the quantum mirror studies, even got to play with it for a while. He knows there are countless universes where he's dead. At least in the one he knows about for sure he died a hero. He has a sneaking suspicion that in all too many he died of anaphylaxis, and that seems somehow just *embarrassing*.
And at least once, he's pretty sure he must have choked on his own vomit, before he got really good at getting just drunk enough.
He hears the door whoosh, and John's voice. "Rodney. Still checking out the real estate?"
"Always. I need an office. I do important scientific things at all hours. Having an office minimizes the chance I have to spend all hours with Kavanaugh." He waves the bottle in greeting as John wanders in. "Wanna drink?"
John raises an eyebrow at him, and yeah, he's Kirk, but he's also got that lean, rangy Spock thing going on. It's a bit of turn-on, really. "Yeah, if only to spare your liver. How drunk are you, anyway?" he asks conversationally as he sits on the wide ledge of the sunken bath.
Rodney gives the question all the consideration it deserves, gnawing slightly on his lip as John takes a swig from the bottle. "I'd say, toasted. I've definitely passed tipsy, and I can see schnockered from here, but not hammered or even, dare I say, blotto."
John nods, takes another swig. "Good to know. So. Think you'll be investing in the east tower, then?"
"I hear the Wraith might be moving in," Rodney says, and he's smiling at John, who's smiling back at him. "I'm going to wait and see if it drives the prices down, first."
"They'd make lousy neighbours. Probably listening to Manson at all hours," John said warningly, and Rodney smiles at him again.
"I'd just play Nine Inch Nails back at them. You know what's weird?" He points around the bathroom, and out into the rooms beyond. "Ancient family quarters."
"Well, you see, a Mama Ancient and a Daddy Ancient ... ooooof!" John exhales suddenly when Rodney manages to connect his hand to the other man's stomach. "Okay, odd. What's odd?"
"Just never pictured them as having kids. I mean, they all went glowy," and he waves his hands again in something that's supposed to convey glowiness. "Did the kids, too? Are they like, I don't know, little baby squids of light?"
"You're a very weird drunk," John says. And then, "Room in there for two?"
Rodney nods and scoots over and John's beside him, his arm around Rodney. "So. You died."
"Saving your ass," Rodney says, but the defensiveness has gone out of it.
"Yeah," says John. "I know."
"You died, too," Rodney says at last. "Which pisses me off, considering the effort I made to get you out of there alive." He thinks hard and a single, powerful jet of water goes off, squirting John. "Score one for gene therapy," he says, shielding himself as John shakes his head dry.
"You *asshole*!" but he's laughing. And then John's arm tightens around Rodney and he kisses his temple. "I want to fuck you, you know. Right now. Are you sober enough for that?"
Rodney turns his head to the side and smiles at John. "Yeah. But not in the tub. I hear a lot of people get killed in the bathroom. Since I've already set the bar high for myself in terms of noble deaths, I'd like to avoid that."
"We can do that. One of the bedrooms has a very large mattress. And a headboard." John kisses him wetly, lewdly.
"Traction and friction." Rodney says. "You know how to talk dirty to a physicist, don't you?"
"I try," John replies, getting carefully out of the tub. He helps Rodney out, too, and they stand in the bathroom and neck like teenagers for a little while and Rodney is surrounded by water and he can't breathe but it's okay, because he's not there alone.
Brighid 2005
(no subject)
Date: 2005-04-26 09:48 am (UTC)*snerk*! Yes, short but I loved this one. Wanted it to be longer. Pity porn shorts can't be three hours long. :)