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sga_flashficTitle: One Down
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elementalv
Pairing: Gen — McKay and Sheppard friendship
Rating: PG
Notes: Written foraries_taurus’ prompt, which can be found here, and was a request for a drunk, sick John with McKay being a friend.
~*~*~
McKay found him just as he started puking, and didn’t that beat all for timing? John would have bitched about it, but a) still puking; and b) what was that again? There was some muttering behind him, but John really didn’t give enough of a rat’s ass to try and track what McKay was saying. Besides which, still puking.
Or maybe not. He took in a deep breath, and Jesus, that was a mistake, because nothing brought up more puke like the smell of —
“Fuck.”
“Unsurprisingly succinct,” McKay said. John might have swatted him, but McKay was proving to be the best friend EVER, just by virtue of the cool cloth he was using to clean John’s face and — ugh — mouth. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, and John had to admit that a faint after-taste of detergent was a hell of a lot better than a faint after-taste of —
“Isn’t your stomach empty yet?” John didn’t bother answering — he figured the dry heaves would do a good enough job of that — but he did manage to pat McKay somewhere by way of thanking him for flushing the damn toilet.
“Mind reader?” That’s what he meant to say, but what actually made it out of his mouth must have been something else.
“I have no idea what you just said, and I’m pretty sure I don’t care. Are you able to stand up?”
“Maybe.” That sounded a bit clearer, and thank god for small favors and Rodney’s upper body strength, because without too much fanfare, John was propped against his sink.
“I’d suggest brushing your teeth, but I’m pretty sure you don’t have the capacity for that.” McKay touched a panel to the right of the mirror and pulled out a bottle. “Here. Rinse your mouth with this. You’ll feel better, and I won’t gag at the smell of your breath.”
“Love you too, McKay,” he muttered. After a moment, McKay pulled the bottle out of John’s hands and unscrewed the top for him.
“I never thought I’d see the day I was more coordinated than you,” he said, pouring mouthwash into the cap and then handing the cap over.
John gave him a dirty look but did what he needed to, and when he spit the rinse into the sink, he said, “Fuck you.”
“Thank you, but no. I prefer my partners to be sober and — oh yes — not wracked with inappropriate guilt.”
John would have responded, but McKay was busy manhandling him back toward his bed. He tried to stay upright, but the amount of booze he’d had in the last few hours pretty much prevented that. Thankfully, he only had a few steps to get to his bed, and once he was there, he’d be able to go straight into unconsciousness.
Or not.
“Damn it! Let me lie down.”
“I don’t think so.” McKay sat right next to John and forced him to stay sitting up. He reached down to the floor and picked up a water bottle, which he shoved at John. “Drink this and the other two bottles I brought, and then I’ll let you pass out.”
“Rodney,” he whimpered. The thought of having to drink that much water was almost enough to make him want to cry. Seriously. He hadn’t been this close to tears since — since — he couldn’t remember when, but he was pretty sure it had been a long damn time.
“Drink, Colonel.” Christ, but McKay was a stubborn son of a bitch. John would have ignored his orders, but McKay was pushing the water bottle up to his lips, and John had to swallow or choke. The water was at room temperature, which was apparently acceptable to his stomach. Aside from a minor twinge after the first three swallows, he was able to keep it down.
“I won’t discuss the sheer idiocy of drinking yourself into a stupor and possibly risking alcohol poisoning. Nor will I point out that what happened today wasn’t your fault. I prefer a lucid audience, and you aren’t in any shape to appreciate my ranting.”
As harsh as McKay’s words were, his tone and volume were soft, but not nearly as soft as his fingers in John’s hair. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had scratched his scalp like that, and it felt so good. John leaned against Rodney a little more and kept drinking.
“Okay, maybe I will point out today wasn’t your fault,” Rodney said. “Maybe if I say it enough times now, it will sink into your head that you aren’t responsible for everyone else’s decisions.”
“Hm,” John said, not really paying too much attention to what Rodney said. He drained the water bottle and asked, “More?”
Rodney pulled the empty out of John’s hand and gave him another full one. Happily, he didn’t take his fingers out of John’s hair, because seriously, they were almost as good as flying a ‘jumper, and John didn’t think anything could be as good as that. He blinked at the thought and determined that a) he got maudlin when he got drunk; b) this was why, after the disaster in Afghanistan, he’d vowed never to get that drunk again; and c) maybe this time he should have these reasons tattooed somewhere so he wouldn’t forget them again.
“I’m sorry you lost Captain Radner, John, I really am. But he made the exact same decision you would have, so you don’t get to diminish it by blaming yourself.” After a pause, he added, “Well. Maybe you do. Role model and — No. You know what? Never mind. You don’t get to blame yourself for this. And you don’t get to act like this either.”
Rodney lost whatever points he’d gained when he slapped John on the back of his head.
“Ow!”
“Grow up, Colonel. Your Marines are big boys and girls, and they get to make the same kinds of decisions you make without even thinking about it,” McKay said, twisting John’s ear.
“Damn it!” It was a measure of just how much John had had to drink that he wasn’t able to make McKay let go of his ear.
“Radner saved over thirty people from getting culled. It sucks that he died in the process and you weren’t able to prevent it, but you don’t get to play the guilt game. Not on this. Do you understand me?”
McKay forced John’s head around, and it was the look in Rodney’s eyes — a mixture of sorrow and irritation — that sobered him up enough to say, “Yeah. Yeah. I — Yeah.”
Maybe John could have left it at that and finished his water, and maybe Rodney would have gone out of the room none the wiser, but something small inside him broke when he recognized the understanding in Rodney’s eyes, and — and —
John’s face was buried in the crook of Rodney’s neck, and he wasn’t crying, not really. There had to be tears for that. But the harsh, hitched breathing was all his, and so was Rodney’s soft voice saying, “Shh, John. Shh.”
Author:
elementalvPairing: Gen — McKay and Sheppard friendship
Rating: PG
Notes: Written for
aries_taurus’ prompt, which can be found here, and was a request for a drunk, sick John with McKay being a friend.McKay found him just as he started puking, and didn’t that beat all for timing? John would have bitched about it, but a) still puking; and b) what was that again? There was some muttering behind him, but John really didn’t give enough of a rat’s ass to try and track what McKay was saying. Besides which, still puking.
Or maybe not. He took in a deep breath, and Jesus, that was a mistake, because nothing brought up more puke like the smell of —
“Fuck.”
“Unsurprisingly succinct,” McKay said. John might have swatted him, but McKay was proving to be the best friend EVER, just by virtue of the cool cloth he was using to clean John’s face and — ugh — mouth. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, and John had to admit that a faint after-taste of detergent was a hell of a lot better than a faint after-taste of —
“Isn’t your stomach empty yet?” John didn’t bother answering — he figured the dry heaves would do a good enough job of that — but he did manage to pat McKay somewhere by way of thanking him for flushing the damn toilet.
“Mind reader?” That’s what he meant to say, but what actually made it out of his mouth must have been something else.
“I have no idea what you just said, and I’m pretty sure I don’t care. Are you able to stand up?”
“Maybe.” That sounded a bit clearer, and thank god for small favors and Rodney’s upper body strength, because without too much fanfare, John was propped against his sink.
“I’d suggest brushing your teeth, but I’m pretty sure you don’t have the capacity for that.” McKay touched a panel to the right of the mirror and pulled out a bottle. “Here. Rinse your mouth with this. You’ll feel better, and I won’t gag at the smell of your breath.”
“Love you too, McKay,” he muttered. After a moment, McKay pulled the bottle out of John’s hands and unscrewed the top for him.
“I never thought I’d see the day I was more coordinated than you,” he said, pouring mouthwash into the cap and then handing the cap over.
John gave him a dirty look but did what he needed to, and when he spit the rinse into the sink, he said, “Fuck you.”
“Thank you, but no. I prefer my partners to be sober and — oh yes — not wracked with inappropriate guilt.”
John would have responded, but McKay was busy manhandling him back toward his bed. He tried to stay upright, but the amount of booze he’d had in the last few hours pretty much prevented that. Thankfully, he only had a few steps to get to his bed, and once he was there, he’d be able to go straight into unconsciousness.
Or not.
“Damn it! Let me lie down.”
“I don’t think so.” McKay sat right next to John and forced him to stay sitting up. He reached down to the floor and picked up a water bottle, which he shoved at John. “Drink this and the other two bottles I brought, and then I’ll let you pass out.”
“Rodney,” he whimpered. The thought of having to drink that much water was almost enough to make him want to cry. Seriously. He hadn’t been this close to tears since — since — he couldn’t remember when, but he was pretty sure it had been a long damn time.
“Drink, Colonel.” Christ, but McKay was a stubborn son of a bitch. John would have ignored his orders, but McKay was pushing the water bottle up to his lips, and John had to swallow or choke. The water was at room temperature, which was apparently acceptable to his stomach. Aside from a minor twinge after the first three swallows, he was able to keep it down.
“I won’t discuss the sheer idiocy of drinking yourself into a stupor and possibly risking alcohol poisoning. Nor will I point out that what happened today wasn’t your fault. I prefer a lucid audience, and you aren’t in any shape to appreciate my ranting.”
As harsh as McKay’s words were, his tone and volume were soft, but not nearly as soft as his fingers in John’s hair. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had scratched his scalp like that, and it felt so good. John leaned against Rodney a little more and kept drinking.
“Okay, maybe I will point out today wasn’t your fault,” Rodney said. “Maybe if I say it enough times now, it will sink into your head that you aren’t responsible for everyone else’s decisions.”
“Hm,” John said, not really paying too much attention to what Rodney said. He drained the water bottle and asked, “More?”
Rodney pulled the empty out of John’s hand and gave him another full one. Happily, he didn’t take his fingers out of John’s hair, because seriously, they were almost as good as flying a ‘jumper, and John didn’t think anything could be as good as that. He blinked at the thought and determined that a) he got maudlin when he got drunk; b) this was why, after the disaster in Afghanistan, he’d vowed never to get that drunk again; and c) maybe this time he should have these reasons tattooed somewhere so he wouldn’t forget them again.
“I’m sorry you lost Captain Radner, John, I really am. But he made the exact same decision you would have, so you don’t get to diminish it by blaming yourself.” After a pause, he added, “Well. Maybe you do. Role model and — No. You know what? Never mind. You don’t get to blame yourself for this. And you don’t get to act like this either.”
Rodney lost whatever points he’d gained when he slapped John on the back of his head.
“Ow!”
“Grow up, Colonel. Your Marines are big boys and girls, and they get to make the same kinds of decisions you make without even thinking about it,” McKay said, twisting John’s ear.
“Damn it!” It was a measure of just how much John had had to drink that he wasn’t able to make McKay let go of his ear.
“Radner saved over thirty people from getting culled. It sucks that he died in the process and you weren’t able to prevent it, but you don’t get to play the guilt game. Not on this. Do you understand me?”
McKay forced John’s head around, and it was the look in Rodney’s eyes — a mixture of sorrow and irritation — that sobered him up enough to say, “Yeah. Yeah. I — Yeah.”
Maybe John could have left it at that and finished his water, and maybe Rodney would have gone out of the room none the wiser, but something small inside him broke when he recognized the understanding in Rodney’s eyes, and — and —
John’s face was buried in the crook of Rodney’s neck, and he wasn’t crying, not really. There had to be tears for that. But the harsh, hitched breathing was all his, and so was Rodney’s soft voice saying, “Shh, John. Shh.”
(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-09 09:54 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-11 01:30 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-09 09:58 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-11 01:30 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-09 10:09 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-11 01:31 pm (UTC)Although he will deny to his dying breath that he was crying.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-09 10:21 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-11 01:32 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-09 10:38 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-11 01:33 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-09 10:40 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-11 01:33 pm (UTC)Thank you, ma'am.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-09 10:51 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-11 01:34 pm (UTC)Ahem.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-11 03:55 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-15 12:12 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2014-03-19 06:23 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-09 11:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-11 01:34 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-10 12:40 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-11 01:34 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-10 01:24 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-11 01:35 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-10 03:39 am (UTC)Well written.
Loved it.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-11 01:35 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-11 12:58 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-11 01:35 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-11 05:55 am (UTC)There is nothing quite so miserable as having to clean up after yourself when you are sick drunk (she says, from the safe distance of thirty years) and the best kind of friend is the one who doesn't let you get away with shit just because you're drunk and miserable.
Julia, entirely excellent, this
(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-11 01:36 pm (UTC)[hugs Rodney]
(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-14 09:30 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-15 12:12 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2014-03-19 06:27 pm (UTC)