sabinelagrande (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sabinelagrande) wrote2009-03-21 12:36 pm
sabinelagrande) wrote2009-03-21 12:36 pm
Entry tags:
- fic,
- john_farr!,
- sga,
- slash
(no subject)
Title: Orange You Glad
Series: John Farr (virgin!John track)
Summary: John falls victim to a scheme.
Word Count: ~1000
Rating/Warnings: R, general dub-con
Pairing: John solo, John/Rodney
A/N: Follows Rhymes with Orange by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
seekergeek.
There were two messages waiting for him when he got back. The first one informed him that training was canceled- John celebrated a little- while the second one directed him to report to the base physician promptly at 0715 the next morning- which was considerably less exciting.
He spent the rest of the night on the couch, drinking beer, watching a Star Trek marathon- until they played that one where Spock Cycled, and John decided the TV was mocking him- and moodily jerking off- adamantly not thinking about Rodney's mouth.
At precisely a quarter past seven the next morning, a nurse called him back, asked him a whole list of embarrassing questions about his dietary habits and his Cycle, shoved a baggie full of condoms and lubricant at him, and showed to an exam room. He was mildly surprised when a doctor he didn't recognize came in a few minutes later.
“Just need a wee bit of your blood, Major, and then you can go about your business,” the doctor- Beckett, according to his name tag- told him.
“Early morning vampirism,” John joked. “My favorite.”
“We do like to start the day off right here,” he replied, pulling on a pair of gloves before he rolled up John's sleeve; John suddenly remembered that, goddammit, he still didn't have any gloves.
As Beckett politely stole a disturbingly large vial of John's blood, there was a knock on the door. “Just a moment,” Beckett called, as he carefully slid the needle out of John's arm, pressing a cotton pad to the small wound. “Hold that right there for me,” he told John, getting up and slipping into the hallway.
“Is it him?” someone outside said- the voice sounded awfully familiar, but John couldn't quite place it.
“How am I supposed to know?” the doctor huffed. “I've never met him before today.”
“I'm sure it was Sheppard,” the man said, sounding confident. “Or Stevens. Or possibly Hartford.”
“Well, there's no Hartford at this base, and I'm not calling in all three of the John Stevenses just because you've lost someone.”
“What does he look like?”
“Black hair, sort of tall, a little bit scrawny,” Beckett said. John sort of wanted to protest; that didn't sound like a good thing for his doctor to be thinking about him.
“Is he really, really, devastatingly hot?” Okay, yeah, that made him feel a little better.
“If you like that sort of thing, I suppose.”
“Just let me come in! Look, I'm already wearing a lab coat. Say I'm consulting.”
“On what's supposed to be a routine blood test?” John really didn't like the sound of that, for some reason. He made a mental note not to trust the soundproofing around here.
“Carson, come on-”
“I got him here and did a test that's probably going to end up being a waste of time. That's as far as I'm willing to go.”
“Just one little peek-”
“Rodney,” Beckett snapped, and John slapped his own forehead. “Go back to your lab and leave me be.”
The door opened and closed again. “Are you alright, laddie?” Beckett said, his voice full of concern.
“Just a headache,” John said, lowering his hand and opening his eyes.
Beckett wouldn't let him leave without watching him take two naproxen sodium; that was okay, though, because his head really was starting to hurt. On the bright side, though, the doctor also took him off duty until the end of his Cycle, so at least he had that going for him.
John went back to his quarters; he had to stop and rub himself off in the parking lot first, though. This was seriously starting to get on his nerves.
The doorbell rang right as he toppled over into his third orgasm of the day; he dragged himself off the couch and rinsed his hands before answering it.
“Hold your horses,” he muttered, as the person on the other side of the door held down the buzzer.
Somehow, he was completely unsurprised when he opened it.
“I realize we may have gotten off on the wrong foot yesterday,” Rodney said, shuffling his feet and looking uncomfortable.
John crossed his arms, leaning against the door frame. “You mean when you acted like a total asshole?”
He had the decency to look a little ashamed. “Yeah, somewhere right around then.” Rodney sighed. “Yes, yes, I'm a pig and a horrible person,” he told John huffily. “And I'm sorry I was a dick, even though guys like you usually cross the street to avoid guys like me when they're Cycling, and so you can sort of see how my possibly fantastic expectations didn't quite match up to my lived reality. And this is as contrite as I get, by the way,” he said, sounding a little miserable.
John grinned a little, despite himself.
“Also,” Rodney said, rubbing at the back of his neck, “I'm moving to Antarctica next week, and I need you to come with me.”
John blinked. “Jesus Christ, Rodney, you don't do anything by halves, do you?”
“Not if I can possibly help it,” he said, smiling a little and handing John a thick envelope. “Congratulations- I got you a new security clearance.”
“You could've just bought me dinner like a normal person,” he muttered, looking in confusion at the seal on it. What the hell did SGC stand for?
“So,” Rodney said, trying and failing to look nonchalant. “If you were still- I mean, we could-”
John gave him a look. “You just missed the show.”
“Ah,” he responded, looking disappointed and a little awkward. “Well. Um. Please keep me in mind for the future.”
“Come on, get in here,” John said, already feeling a little tingly again. “If you hurry, you can still make the matinee.”
Series: John Farr (virgin!John track)
Summary: John falls victim to a scheme.
Word Count: ~1000
Rating/Warnings: R, general dub-con
Pairing: John solo, John/Rodney
A/N: Follows Rhymes with Orange by
seekergeek. There were two messages waiting for him when he got back. The first one informed him that training was canceled- John celebrated a little- while the second one directed him to report to the base physician promptly at 0715 the next morning- which was considerably less exciting.
He spent the rest of the night on the couch, drinking beer, watching a Star Trek marathon- until they played that one where Spock Cycled, and John decided the TV was mocking him- and moodily jerking off- adamantly not thinking about Rodney's mouth.
At precisely a quarter past seven the next morning, a nurse called him back, asked him a whole list of embarrassing questions about his dietary habits and his Cycle, shoved a baggie full of condoms and lubricant at him, and showed to an exam room. He was mildly surprised when a doctor he didn't recognize came in a few minutes later.
“Just need a wee bit of your blood, Major, and then you can go about your business,” the doctor- Beckett, according to his name tag- told him.
“Early morning vampirism,” John joked. “My favorite.”
“We do like to start the day off right here,” he replied, pulling on a pair of gloves before he rolled up John's sleeve; John suddenly remembered that, goddammit, he still didn't have any gloves.
As Beckett politely stole a disturbingly large vial of John's blood, there was a knock on the door. “Just a moment,” Beckett called, as he carefully slid the needle out of John's arm, pressing a cotton pad to the small wound. “Hold that right there for me,” he told John, getting up and slipping into the hallway.
“Is it him?” someone outside said- the voice sounded awfully familiar, but John couldn't quite place it.
“How am I supposed to know?” the doctor huffed. “I've never met him before today.”
“I'm sure it was Sheppard,” the man said, sounding confident. “Or Stevens. Or possibly Hartford.”
“Well, there's no Hartford at this base, and I'm not calling in all three of the John Stevenses just because you've lost someone.”
“What does he look like?”
“Black hair, sort of tall, a little bit scrawny,” Beckett said. John sort of wanted to protest; that didn't sound like a good thing for his doctor to be thinking about him.
“Is he really, really, devastatingly hot?” Okay, yeah, that made him feel a little better.
“If you like that sort of thing, I suppose.”
“Just let me come in! Look, I'm already wearing a lab coat. Say I'm consulting.”
“On what's supposed to be a routine blood test?” John really didn't like the sound of that, for some reason. He made a mental note not to trust the soundproofing around here.
“Carson, come on-”
“I got him here and did a test that's probably going to end up being a waste of time. That's as far as I'm willing to go.”
“Just one little peek-”
“Rodney,” Beckett snapped, and John slapped his own forehead. “Go back to your lab and leave me be.”
The door opened and closed again. “Are you alright, laddie?” Beckett said, his voice full of concern.
“Just a headache,” John said, lowering his hand and opening his eyes.
Beckett wouldn't let him leave without watching him take two naproxen sodium; that was okay, though, because his head really was starting to hurt. On the bright side, though, the doctor also took him off duty until the end of his Cycle, so at least he had that going for him.
John went back to his quarters; he had to stop and rub himself off in the parking lot first, though. This was seriously starting to get on his nerves.
The doorbell rang right as he toppled over into his third orgasm of the day; he dragged himself off the couch and rinsed his hands before answering it.
“Hold your horses,” he muttered, as the person on the other side of the door held down the buzzer.
Somehow, he was completely unsurprised when he opened it.
“I realize we may have gotten off on the wrong foot yesterday,” Rodney said, shuffling his feet and looking uncomfortable.
John crossed his arms, leaning against the door frame. “You mean when you acted like a total asshole?”
He had the decency to look a little ashamed. “Yeah, somewhere right around then.” Rodney sighed. “Yes, yes, I'm a pig and a horrible person,” he told John huffily. “And I'm sorry I was a dick, even though guys like you usually cross the street to avoid guys like me when they're Cycling, and so you can sort of see how my possibly fantastic expectations didn't quite match up to my lived reality. And this is as contrite as I get, by the way,” he said, sounding a little miserable.
John grinned a little, despite himself.
“Also,” Rodney said, rubbing at the back of his neck, “I'm moving to Antarctica next week, and I need you to come with me.”
John blinked. “Jesus Christ, Rodney, you don't do anything by halves, do you?”
“Not if I can possibly help it,” he said, smiling a little and handing John a thick envelope. “Congratulations- I got you a new security clearance.”
“You could've just bought me dinner like a normal person,” he muttered, looking in confusion at the seal on it. What the hell did SGC stand for?
“So,” Rodney said, trying and failing to look nonchalant. “If you were still- I mean, we could-”
John gave him a look. “You just missed the show.”
“Ah,” he responded, looking disappointed and a little awkward. “Well. Um. Please keep me in mind for the future.”
“Come on, get in here,” John said, already feeling a little tingly again. “If you hurry, you can still make the matinee.”