Fic - It's Now or Never (PG)
Feb. 8th, 2014 07:57 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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romancingmcshepTitle: It's Now or Never
Author: :![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mezzo_cammin
Rating: : PG
Word Count: : 1,035
Setting: : Future Fic
Summary: : They’re all set to leave for Atlantis. There’s just one teeny-tiny little hold-up. Item 95.
Rodney looks at his new assistant and gives her a 37.3% chance of lasting the day.
Then she hands him a cup of dark roast African Bliss at the perfect drinking temperature, his SynCorder, and his phone, which is playing "Hound Dog", and now she's got a 44.6 chance. The day, however, is still young.
"Yes, General Caldwell?" He points the remote at the window and adjusts the blinds so the early morning sun filters through in perfectly aligned stripes.
"Rodney! The hell is this item 95 on the AOB rec list?"
Ah. Item 95.
Rodney snorts, feels a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"I'm working on that, sir," he says.
"The hell you mean, you're working on it? Cross it off. It's not –"
"Sir?"
"Rodney?"
"With all due respect, General, item 95 has become something of a – a deal breaker, and, as I said, I'm working on it."
"The hell you mean, a deal breaker? I thought this was settled. You said it was settled, Rodney. We talked about liability issues, remember? You sat in my office last week and said, 'General, this is settled.' So, I expect it to be damn well settled. There will be no deal breakers. The hell are you talk –"
"Dr. McKay!" The assistant says in a very loud and alarmed voice, and Rodney turns to look at her. She's casually inspecting the employee evaluations he'd signed off on yesterday and smiling innocently. Okay, then. 58.9%
"Sorry, sir," Rodney interrupts the general, "There seems to be an emergency. I'll take care of item 95. Don't worry."
Rodney looks at his assistant and narrows his eyes. "So. What was your name again?"
**
"Rodney?" Colonel Lorne's voice precedes him into Rodney's office, where he stands just inside the doorway and says, "A word?" with a hopeful expression on his face.
Rodney turns raised eyebrows to Gertrude and she takes a quick glance at his calendar before nodding.
"Five minutes," she says to Colonel Lorne, and goes back to Rodney's schedule, where she is diligently working on freeing up an extra hour for him that evening. She's been there for 3 hours now, and Rodney thinks she might last another day. Or two.
Rodney stands and meets Evan in the doorway. "Walk with me," he says, and pretends not to see the rolled eyes and exasperated expression on Lorne's face. He loves saying that.
"So, item 95," Lorne says, and Rodney stops in his tracks, holding up one finger as he slips his phone from his pocket and pages through a couple of photos. When he finds the one he wants, he turns it so Lorne can see it, and waits.
"Aw, shit," Lorne says, sagging a little where he stands.
"I know, right?" Rodney says, and then grimaces. He's been hanging around Madison too much lately. Obs.
Just then, the phone starts playing Long, Tall Sally, and Rodney groans. Evan pats him on the shoulder and strides away like Rodney's not going to notice how his shoulders are shaking with restrained laughter. Bastard.
"Yes, Sam?" he says, and heads back to his office. Gertrude takes one look at his face and places a folder on the desk in front of him. Rodney listens to Sam, or tries to, but the photos in the folder are very, very distracting, so he finds himself mumbling a brief, "I'm working on it. Yes, of course. I’ll let you know," and ending the call.
He runs a distracted hand over his beard, still not sure he likes it as much as John does, but, well. John does.
"Sir?" Gertrude says, and hands him another folder. "I was just wondering what the problem is, exactly, with item 95? It seems – eco-friendly, efficient…?"
"It is," Rodney nods in agreement. "It's just…the potential for…" he trails off, thinking of all the things that could go wrong, the possibility of spinal injuries, weighing them against the sheer exhilaration, the fun factor, and shakes his head. There has to be a way to make it work.
"Perhaps I could… make a suggestion?" Gertrude says, and Rodney listens.
***
Precisely three hours later, Gertrude Priscilla Brown, Jr., is added to the official personnel roster (special assistant to CSO Rodney McKay, PhD, PhD, PhD), of Atlantis Expedition XV, known to its many participants affectionately as AOB (Atlantis or Bust).
***
Rodney opens his front door and pauses in the foyer. He drops his briefcase onto the scuffed hardwood floor, places his laptop gingerly on the entry table, unwinds his scarf, and shrugs out of his leather jacket. He catches sight of his wind-reddened nose in the mirror on the hall tree and decides that tomorrow, by God, he's taking the jeep, and John will just have to make do with the motorcycle, morning blowjob or no morning blowjob. But, for now, he takes a deep breath and follows the enticing aroma of onions and garlic into the kitchen, where he leans against the door and lets all the tension of the day drain away. Here, John is stirring a big pot of Bolognese sauce, dipping a finger in for an illicit taste, and there, Marty is buttering a loaf of French bread and sprinkling garlic haphazardly all over it, and Rodney has his phone out, snapping a pic to SynC to Madison before they even realize he's there.
"Dad!" Marty says, and flings himself at Rodney, who catches him up in a fierce hug and deposits him onto the counter. John sidles over, blowing on the wooden spoon laden with sauce before offering it to Rodney. Rodney opens his mouth obediently and hums in approval, mouth quirking in a knowing smile as John's breath catches. Yep. Still got it.
"Dad? Did you do it? Did you talk them into it?" Marty asks, eyes wide and hopeful.
"Yeah, Rodney, how'd that go?" John says, one eyebrow raised, "Is item 95 a go?"
"Well, not exactly," Rodney says, and watches as both of their faces fall, identical looks of disappointment and pouty mouths deployed in his direction.
"However," he says, and pulls out a manila folder, "I think you're going to like the alternative even better…"
Author: :
mezzo_camminRating: : PG
Word Count: : 1,035
Setting: : Future Fic
Summary: : They’re all set to leave for Atlantis. There’s just one teeny-tiny little hold-up. Item 95.
Rodney looks at his new assistant and gives her a 37.3% chance of lasting the day.
Then she hands him a cup of dark roast African Bliss at the perfect drinking temperature, his SynCorder, and his phone, which is playing "Hound Dog", and now she's got a 44.6 chance. The day, however, is still young.
"Yes, General Caldwell?" He points the remote at the window and adjusts the blinds so the early morning sun filters through in perfectly aligned stripes.
"Rodney! The hell is this item 95 on the AOB rec list?"
Ah. Item 95.
Rodney snorts, feels a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"I'm working on that, sir," he says.
"The hell you mean, you're working on it? Cross it off. It's not –"
"Sir?"
"Rodney?"
"With all due respect, General, item 95 has become something of a – a deal breaker, and, as I said, I'm working on it."
"The hell you mean, a deal breaker? I thought this was settled. You said it was settled, Rodney. We talked about liability issues, remember? You sat in my office last week and said, 'General, this is settled.' So, I expect it to be damn well settled. There will be no deal breakers. The hell are you talk –"
"Dr. McKay!" The assistant says in a very loud and alarmed voice, and Rodney turns to look at her. She's casually inspecting the employee evaluations he'd signed off on yesterday and smiling innocently. Okay, then. 58.9%
"Sorry, sir," Rodney interrupts the general, "There seems to be an emergency. I'll take care of item 95. Don't worry."
Rodney looks at his assistant and narrows his eyes. "So. What was your name again?"
**
"Rodney?" Colonel Lorne's voice precedes him into Rodney's office, where he stands just inside the doorway and says, "A word?" with a hopeful expression on his face.
Rodney turns raised eyebrows to Gertrude and she takes a quick glance at his calendar before nodding.
"Five minutes," she says to Colonel Lorne, and goes back to Rodney's schedule, where she is diligently working on freeing up an extra hour for him that evening. She's been there for 3 hours now, and Rodney thinks she might last another day. Or two.
Rodney stands and meets Evan in the doorway. "Walk with me," he says, and pretends not to see the rolled eyes and exasperated expression on Lorne's face. He loves saying that.
"So, item 95," Lorne says, and Rodney stops in his tracks, holding up one finger as he slips his phone from his pocket and pages through a couple of photos. When he finds the one he wants, he turns it so Lorne can see it, and waits.
"Aw, shit," Lorne says, sagging a little where he stands.
"I know, right?" Rodney says, and then grimaces. He's been hanging around Madison too much lately. Obs.
Just then, the phone starts playing Long, Tall Sally, and Rodney groans. Evan pats him on the shoulder and strides away like Rodney's not going to notice how his shoulders are shaking with restrained laughter. Bastard.
"Yes, Sam?" he says, and heads back to his office. Gertrude takes one look at his face and places a folder on the desk in front of him. Rodney listens to Sam, or tries to, but the photos in the folder are very, very distracting, so he finds himself mumbling a brief, "I'm working on it. Yes, of course. I’ll let you know," and ending the call.
He runs a distracted hand over his beard, still not sure he likes it as much as John does, but, well. John does.
"Sir?" Gertrude says, and hands him another folder. "I was just wondering what the problem is, exactly, with item 95? It seems – eco-friendly, efficient…?"
"It is," Rodney nods in agreement. "It's just…the potential for…" he trails off, thinking of all the things that could go wrong, the possibility of spinal injuries, weighing them against the sheer exhilaration, the fun factor, and shakes his head. There has to be a way to make it work.
"Perhaps I could… make a suggestion?" Gertrude says, and Rodney listens.
***
Precisely three hours later, Gertrude Priscilla Brown, Jr., is added to the official personnel roster (special assistant to CSO Rodney McKay, PhD, PhD, PhD), of Atlantis Expedition XV, known to its many participants affectionately as AOB (Atlantis or Bust).
***
Rodney opens his front door and pauses in the foyer. He drops his briefcase onto the scuffed hardwood floor, places his laptop gingerly on the entry table, unwinds his scarf, and shrugs out of his leather jacket. He catches sight of his wind-reddened nose in the mirror on the hall tree and decides that tomorrow, by God, he's taking the jeep, and John will just have to make do with the motorcycle, morning blowjob or no morning blowjob. But, for now, he takes a deep breath and follows the enticing aroma of onions and garlic into the kitchen, where he leans against the door and lets all the tension of the day drain away. Here, John is stirring a big pot of Bolognese sauce, dipping a finger in for an illicit taste, and there, Marty is buttering a loaf of French bread and sprinkling garlic haphazardly all over it, and Rodney has his phone out, snapping a pic to SynC to Madison before they even realize he's there.
"Dad!" Marty says, and flings himself at Rodney, who catches him up in a fierce hug and deposits him onto the counter. John sidles over, blowing on the wooden spoon laden with sauce before offering it to Rodney. Rodney opens his mouth obediently and hums in approval, mouth quirking in a knowing smile as John's breath catches. Yep. Still got it.
"Dad? Did you do it? Did you talk them into it?" Marty asks, eyes wide and hopeful.
"Yeah, Rodney, how'd that go?" John says, one eyebrow raised, "Is item 95 a go?"
"Well, not exactly," Rodney says, and watches as both of their faces fall, identical looks of disappointment and pouty mouths deployed in his direction.
"However," he says, and pulls out a manila folder, "I think you're going to like the alternative even better…"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2014-02-16 05:39 pm (UTC)Lovely story with a great, sweet ending.