sga_flashfic | It's a Hazardous World we Live In by Kriadydragon (Return Challenge)

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Title: It's a Hazardous World we Live In
Author: Kriadydragon
Rating: PG for some language and clumsiness. Gen. Humor
Characters: John, Rodney, Carson
Spoilers: Probably for the Return.
Word count: around 700
Synopsis: “Here's to surviving the Pegasus just to have our butts handed to us in the Milky Way.” Takes place while the gang is on earth during the Return.

Rodney ran his good fingers over the bandages securing the splint on his busted fingers, paused, checked his watch, took a drink, then resumed. Either Sheppard or Carson would be popping in depending on who decided to be punctual first, or late last. A project had brought McKay back to Colorado, where Sheppard was already in the neighborhood and Carson close enough to drop by. Supposedly, the Scot had been invited to speak at yet another symposium focusing on the voodoo art of genetics. Not that Beckett discussed his work in Pegasus, but that still didn't exempt the fact that John's run-ins with mutations were making the Scot a popular guy.

Rodney stopped caressing the the course, itchy bandages and set both arms on the table a little too hard. Pain throbbed from his finger-joints to his wrist and he winced. He lifted his good hand to pinch the bridge of his nose to stem the ache pulsing there. His fingers were an inch away when he recalled the origin of the ache, so quickly dropped his hand.

Damn doors. Stupid, stupid brainless doors. Atlantis had spoiled them witless. Rodney sighed and took a sip from his water glass. The chosen territory for their rendezvous was a steak house snazzy enough to feel like fine dining but a family joint that kept prices reasonable. He was sitting in a red-padded booth, with a family of five two booths down and no else. It was the lunch hour and most people were on a schedule that didn't allow for any kind of waiting around just to eat. McKay checked his watch again. Another three minutes and he was ordering without them. The smell of grilled steak was pure torment and he wasn't generally a patient guy.

Rodney heard the chime of the restaurant doors, looked up, and blinked.

Sheppard headed toward the booth dressed in a dark blue button shirt, open at the throat, and a pair of khaki pants, all of it loose and baggy on his lanky frame. The attention getter were two black eyes, a splint on his wrist, and that same splinted arm holding his side. He slid into the booth with a grimace and asked the waitress who had seated him for some water.

He smiled awkwardly at Rodney. “Hey McKay.”

Rodney would never deny his inability to be tactful. “What the hell ass-backwards mission beat you up this time?”

It earned him a narrow-eyed glare. “Gee, Rodney, nice to see you too.”

“Trust me when I say this is me showing concern,” Rodney replied. “Seriously, what happened? Rogue Jaffa? Priors?” He focused on the purple and black bruises splotching Sheppard's face. “A door?”

Sheppard pressed his lips into a thin line but didn't reply. Funny how silence said more than words ever could. Rodney made his gaze go heavy-lidded. “It was a door.”

“Three,” John blurted. “The most recent being at Wal-Mart.”

Rodney popped his eyes wide in disbelief. “But those are automatic!”

“But they're slow, and apparently I walk real fast.”

Rodney nodded, still incredulous. “Uh-huh. Arm too?”

“I spun around after rebounding and stepped off a curb I forgot was there.”

“Side?”

“Some guy wasn't paying attention and tripped over me before I had a chance to get up.” John rubbed his ribs gently. “They're just bruised but still hurt. What about you?”

Rodney pointed at his eyes and nose. “Door, door, door,” he held up his splinted fingers, “blast door sliding closed.”

Sheppard winced sympathetically. “Crap, how'd you manage to keep your fingers?”

“Oh, there's a failsafe in case people get stuck between them, kind of like what elevators have. But it's a little slow on the uptake when it comes to fingers.”

John nodded. Just then the waitress returned with his water. Sheppard picked up the glass and raised it in a salute. “Here's to surviving the Pegasus just to have our butts handed to us in the Milky Way.”

Rodney lifted his own glass and tapped it against John's. “Here, here.”

“So when does Carson get here?” John asked after taking a drink.

The doors chimed, followed by a stream of incoherent babbling from two sources. Both men looked up to see Carson moving toward them with an ice-pack over one eye and the greeter stammering apologies.

Carson waved her off. “It's all right, love. I'm the clumsy oaf here.” He finally managed to shew her off, and slid into the seat next to John.

Both men said at the same time, “Door?”

Beckett opened his mouth, jerking his thumb over his shoulder, gearing up for some pathetic excuse. Then he slumped in defeat and sighed, “Aye.”

The End

And they lived happily ever after until the door hit them on the way out. Just kidding. Or am I?

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lady-lirenel.livejournal.com

Oh, that's lovely. I can imagine it would be hard for them to adjust to having to open doors again and such. Great story!

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