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Untitled: McShep H/C [G]
Untitled: John gets hurt in an explosion. Rodney just wants to make sure he's okay. Written for the![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif?v=91.6)
mcshep_love back!fill. ~800 words.
The first thing John's aware of when he rejoins the land of the living is the fact that he's face down on a bed that's not his own. He feels floaty and okay, his back kind of hurts and his mouth feels like it's stuffed with cotton, but he has a distinct feeling of safe so he closes his eyes and slips back into the darkness.
--
The next thing John's aware of when he wakes up is ow, the excruciating throbbing in his back. He's still sprawled out on his stomach and now that all the good drugs are out of his system, he recognizes the telltale beeping of machines and oh, okay, he's in the infirmary.
He's got the where and the who, now he just needs the when and how and okay, all this thinking is making his brain hurt.
He hears the sound of a chair scraping against the floor on the other side of his bed, out of his line of sight and he wants to lift his head to see who's there, but when he feels the tentative hand against his shoulder, he already knows.
"Rodney?" He asks. Well, at least that's what he meant to say. It comes out more like Ohgnee but it's not his fault his tongue is too big for his mouth.
"Shhh," Rodney says and John wants to laugh because he's not used to such soothing tones coming from him.
A (manly) whimper escapes him when Rodney removes his hand and a second later, he moves into John's sight.
"How much do you remember?" Rodney asks, but John is drawing a blank so he just stares. "There was an explosion. In the tower. We knew it was coming and we managed to evacuate almost everyone, but... You saved my life, John. Again."
Rodney reaches out and grabs John's hand. It feels nice, John decides, especially when another pair of footsteps joins them and Rodney doesn't pull away.
"Alright Colonel." It's Keller. "Time for your next round of pain killers." He can't see her, but he doesn't need to because almost immediately, he feels the cool relief of whatever miracle drug she's given him and his eyelids are growing heavier by the second.
"Go ahead," Rodney says quietly, squeezing his fingers. "I'll uh... be here when you wake up."
John thinks it's the best thing he's ever heard as he drifts back to sleep.
--
Recovery is a bitch.
John doesn't remember much about those first few days when Keller kept him drugged to the gills. From what he's gathered from Rodney's scarily detailed account, there was a lot of glass embedded in John's back at the explosion. Keller had pulled over forty medium to small sized shards out of his skin. Not to mention the larger piece that had caught him dangerously close to the spine.
Ten centimeters to the left, Rodney told him, and he'd most likely have never walked again.
It's been almost a week since the explosion and thankfully, Keller took pity on him and sent him back to his room.
"Okay," Rodney announces as he wheels him closer to the bed. "Up you go and--"
"I'm tired of laying in a bed, Rodney," John says and it's dangerously close to a whine. He doesn't care. He thinks it's allowed.
"Keller said you need to be on your stomach as much as possible. You don't want to irritate the lacerations on your back and..."
John grumbles and eases himself out of the chair. It's less than four steps to the bed but by the time he collapses down onto it, his back is on fire and he wonders how much longer until he can take the painkillers Keller sent along.
He buries his face in his pillows and breathes in the scent. It's familiar and nice smells vaguely like burnt plastic and fresh coffee and... oh.
"Have you been sleeping in here?" He asks.
"Maybe," Rodney says a little defiantly. "It was... you know..."
"Yeah," John says, breathing deeply again. "Yeah, I know."
He feels the bed dip slightly as Rodney joins him and a second later, he feels the strangest sensation on his back.
"Rodney?"
Rodney says nothing for the longest time. John can hear the quiet, hitched breath as the feather light touches keep coming, and he tries to count.
Forty three... forty four... forty five...
Rodney stills for a minute and a second later, John feels his shirt being pulled up gently. There's a quiet gasp and a second later, John feels that same gentle touch as Rodney's lips press against his skin, ten centimeters to the right of his spine.
Oh.
"John," Rodney says and his voice cracks just slightly.
"Yeah," John says, reaching over to grab Rodney's fingers with his. He squeezes gently, reassuringly. "Me too, buddy."
mcshep_love back!fill. ~800 words.The first thing John's aware of when he rejoins the land of the living is the fact that he's face down on a bed that's not his own. He feels floaty and okay, his back kind of hurts and his mouth feels like it's stuffed with cotton, but he has a distinct feeling of safe so he closes his eyes and slips back into the darkness.
--
The next thing John's aware of when he wakes up is ow, the excruciating throbbing in his back. He's still sprawled out on his stomach and now that all the good drugs are out of his system, he recognizes the telltale beeping of machines and oh, okay, he's in the infirmary.
He's got the where and the who, now he just needs the when and how and okay, all this thinking is making his brain hurt.
He hears the sound of a chair scraping against the floor on the other side of his bed, out of his line of sight and he wants to lift his head to see who's there, but when he feels the tentative hand against his shoulder, he already knows.
"Rodney?" He asks. Well, at least that's what he meant to say. It comes out more like Ohgnee but it's not his fault his tongue is too big for his mouth.
"Shhh," Rodney says and John wants to laugh because he's not used to such soothing tones coming from him.
A (manly) whimper escapes him when Rodney removes his hand and a second later, he moves into John's sight.
"How much do you remember?" Rodney asks, but John is drawing a blank so he just stares. "There was an explosion. In the tower. We knew it was coming and we managed to evacuate almost everyone, but... You saved my life, John. Again."
Rodney reaches out and grabs John's hand. It feels nice, John decides, especially when another pair of footsteps joins them and Rodney doesn't pull away.
"Alright Colonel." It's Keller. "Time for your next round of pain killers." He can't see her, but he doesn't need to because almost immediately, he feels the cool relief of whatever miracle drug she's given him and his eyelids are growing heavier by the second.
"Go ahead," Rodney says quietly, squeezing his fingers. "I'll uh... be here when you wake up."
John thinks it's the best thing he's ever heard as he drifts back to sleep.
--
Recovery is a bitch.
John doesn't remember much about those first few days when Keller kept him drugged to the gills. From what he's gathered from Rodney's scarily detailed account, there was a lot of glass embedded in John's back at the explosion. Keller had pulled over forty medium to small sized shards out of his skin. Not to mention the larger piece that had caught him dangerously close to the spine.
Ten centimeters to the left, Rodney told him, and he'd most likely have never walked again.
It's been almost a week since the explosion and thankfully, Keller took pity on him and sent him back to his room.
"Okay," Rodney announces as he wheels him closer to the bed. "Up you go and--"
"I'm tired of laying in a bed, Rodney," John says and it's dangerously close to a whine. He doesn't care. He thinks it's allowed.
"Keller said you need to be on your stomach as much as possible. You don't want to irritate the lacerations on your back and..."
John grumbles and eases himself out of the chair. It's less than four steps to the bed but by the time he collapses down onto it, his back is on fire and he wonders how much longer until he can take the painkillers Keller sent along.
He buries his face in his pillows and breathes in the scent. It's familiar and nice smells vaguely like burnt plastic and fresh coffee and... oh.
"Have you been sleeping in here?" He asks.
"Maybe," Rodney says a little defiantly. "It was... you know..."
"Yeah," John says, breathing deeply again. "Yeah, I know."
He feels the bed dip slightly as Rodney joins him and a second later, he feels the strangest sensation on his back.
"Rodney?"
Rodney says nothing for the longest time. John can hear the quiet, hitched breath as the feather light touches keep coming, and he tries to count.
Forty three... forty four... forty five...
Rodney stills for a minute and a second later, John feels his shirt being pulled up gently. There's a quiet gasp and a second later, John feels that same gentle touch as Rodney's lips press against his skin, ten centimeters to the right of his spine.
Oh.
"John," Rodney says and his voice cracks just slightly.
"Yeah," John says, reaching over to grab Rodney's fingers with his. He squeezes gently, reassuringly. "Me too, buddy."
That being said, I appreciate you taking the time to comment! I did try to keep this one slow and steady, which wasn't easy given the shortness of the piece, but truthfully, it's probably one of my favorites! So yes :D Thank you!