John/Rodney Earth AU, pt 4
Sep. 15th, 2006 03:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wesleysgirlPart 1
Part 2
Part 3
Rodney is wrong about one thing; John doesn't have a lot of friends. Some, of course, because it would be weird not to have any, but most of his closer friends had been people he worked with, and that all changed when Elizabeth got sick. There's still Sam, who started out as Elizabeth's friend and somehow, along the way, became John's, and he's friendly with the parents of some of Kayla's friends, but really, he's pretty isolated. He knows that's not good long-term, but he hasn't figured out yet where the line is between short term and long term. Maybe he's already crossed it. But there are enough other things to worry about -- money, for one -- that whether or not he should have more adult socialization is pretty far down on the list.
He figures Rodney will call the next day, but there's no call. Kayla starts school and John starts looking for a job again. It's not easy; most places expect potential employees to be available more than 25 hours a week, and aren't all that understanding when you need a week off so you can stay home with your kid during school vacation.
Sitting at the kitchen table one morning, he sighs and sets down his pen. The list of possible jobs is smaller than it was three days ago, and he's no closer to actually finding one. Not to mention he feels like shit. He's still in his bathrobe; he'd put on his jacket to walk Kayle to the bus stop, but when he got back to the house he slipped the robe on again.
Frustrated and shivering, John goes to lie down on the couch. It makes him feel like a jerk, lying down in the daytime, but he's obviously coming down with something and he's just going to rest for five minutes. Ten, tops.
He wakes up an hour and a half later to the shrill of the phone ringing. His head hurts and his bones ache and even his hair hurts, which shouldn't be possible. He staggers to the phone and picks it up.
"Hello?" he croaks.
"What the hell happened to you?" Rodney McKay asks.
"I was sleeping," John says. Shit, his throat is sore. Is it possible for kids to bring germs home from school and give their parents colds without actually being sick themselves?
"It's after noon," Rodney says. "Were you... oh God, did I interrupt some mid-day tryst?"
"What?" John says. "No. I think I'm sick."
Rodney becomes all business like a switch has been flipped. "Do you have a fever?"
"I don't know. Maybe." He can't remember where the thermometer is. He shivers. "Yes."
"Headache? Sore throat? Cough?"
"Um... yes, yes, no." John's chest feels tight, though, like coughing could be right around the corner.
"You should go to the doctor," Rodney says.
"I don't have time," John says. His eyes move to the clock, which actually reads closer to one than twelve. "I have to meet Kayla at the bus stop in a couple of hours."
Rodney makes a small sound John can't translate. "You shouldn't be walking around outside in this weather if you're sick. It's raining."
"It is?" It hadn't been a few hours before.
"Have you been living under a rock?" Rodney asks. "Yes; there's a cold front coming in. Look, go lie back down, okay? I'll be there in a little while." He hangs up.
John listens to the dial tone for a few seconds, then puts the phone down. He must have misheard, because there's no way Rodney's coming over. Rodney doesn't even know where he lives.
He's huddled in front of the stove waiting for water to boil when there's a knock at the door. Weirdly, he's not all that surprised to see Rodney McKay standing on his porch. Behind John, the tea kettle starts to whistle.
"You should be lying down," Rodney tells him, coming in. "Go to bed. I'll get that."
John follows him, though, into the kitchen, and watches while Rodney unpacks the plastic shopping bag he's brought along with him, setting a can down on the table. "You brought soup?"
"You're supposed to have soup when you're sick," Rodney says, sounding a little bit defensive.
"Yeah, I know, I just... how did you get here?"
"I flew," Rodney says, rolling his eyes. "Didn't I tell you? I'm actually a wereflamingo."
John is definitely sick, because it takes him a few long seconds to realize that's a joke. "Do flamingos even fly?"
"Of course they fly," Rodney says. "It's penguins that don't."
"Right. Penguins." John shivers.
Concern doesn't seem like a look Rodney wears very often, but John still recognizes it. "You really are sick," he says, and comes over and feels John's forehead -- one hand on the back of John's neck to steady him, the other with the palm pressed to his forehead. Rodney's hands are big and cool, and his touch makes John weak in the knees.
Of course, he is running a fever.
"You're burning up," Rodney says, letting go. "Not literally, of course, but go to bed. Now. I'll bring you some soup in a few minutes. Where's the bedroom, upstairs?"
"Uh huh." John shuffles off upstairs and collapses onto the bed, not even bothering to pull up the covers. The pillowcase feels cool against his cheek, and when he opens his eyes again Rodney is standing over him with a tray that he'd forgotten he even had.
"What are you, four?" Rodney asks. "Sit up."
John does, and Rodney puts the tray down across his lap. "You didn't have to do this, you know. But thanks."
"Yes, well, don't think I don't realize that I'm doing you a serious favor here. I'll expect you to repay me at some point in the future." But Rodney grins a little, like he's not really serious. "Here, take these. You'll feel better if we can get your fever down." He hands over two pills and John takes them without protest.
He can barely keep his eyes open long enough to eat the soup. "I have to meet Kayla when she gets off the bus," he says as Rodney takes the tray away and pulls the covers up over him.
"I'll do it." Rodney says. "Where and when?"
"At the end of the street, where it meets the main road." John forces his eyes open. "I should go."
"No, you should stay here and rest," Rodney says. "It'll be okay. Trust me."
And, strangely enough, John realizes as he drifts back off to sleep, he does.
* * * * *
John wakes up to the sound of voices downstairs. It takes him a minute to realize what the hell is going on, but Kayla's familiar, cheerful voice floats up the stairs reassures him before he can even start to worry.
He feels better. Not great, but he aches less and he's not shivering.
Slowly, he gets up. He's still wearing his bathrobe, so all he has to do is pull it more tightly around himself before padding down the stairs in his stocking feet. Kayla and Rodney are in the kitchen, the microscope he bought her on the table and the prepared slides pushed to one side in favor of a small collection of ones they've obviously put together themselves. The little clear plastic things -- John can't remember what they're called, if he ever knew -- are scattered all over the place, and one of them is caught in the ends of Kayla's hair.
"Daddy," she says, getting up and coming over to hug him. He leans over her and kisses the top of her head. "Do you have a cold?"
"I guess I do," John says.
"Poor daddy." Kayla pats his leg. "Rodney met me at the bus stop. I was surprised."
"I'll bet you were."
She goes and sits back down again. "Rodney said you were sick. He said it's really important to take care of yourself when you're sick, because when your immune system is compromised you're more prone to con... contacting other infections?" Kayla looks at Rodney.
"Contracting," Rodney says. "Speaking of which, you might not want to touch these slides."
"We were seeing if there was any bacteria in our spit," Kayla says solemnly.
"Oh." After years of raising a child, the thought of saliva is pretty low on the list of things that gross John out. He sits down, leaning his forearms on the table. "Those are all spit?"
"No. Just these two." Kayla points.
"Should I be afraid to ask what the other ones are?" John asks, raising an eyebrow at Rodney.
"Probably," Rodney says. "You look better. Less glassy-eyed."
"Yeah? I feel better. Not that I'm planning on running any marathons in the next couple of days."
Rodney shudders dramatically. "I hope not. You do realize that that kind of high-impact exercise erodes your joints, don't you?"
John grins. "I guess I never thought about it."
"Well, you should. You've got to take care of yourself."
"Daddy, Rodney said we can have pizza," Kayla says.
"My treat," Rodney adds. He looks at John thoughtfully. "Although maybe that wouldn't be the best choice, considering..."
"You promised!" Kayla protests.
"Kayla," John says with reproach.
She pouts, crossing her arms. "Okay, okay," she says. "He didn't promise, but he said."
John wonders how long it's going to be before he's tired of hearing 'Rodney said.' "Don't be rude," he warns her.
"I wasn't being rude, I was explaining," Kayla says, but John's expression makes her capitulate. "Sorry."
"Pizza sounds good," John says, more to Rodney than to Kayla. "It's not a stomach thing."
"Thank God." Rodney looks relieved.
"So spitting all over slides is okay as long as you don't have to be near people who might throw up?" John asks.
"This is scientific," Rodney says.
Kayla is tugging on Rodney's sleeve, requesting his attention, and he sighs and gives it to her. "Yes, what do you want?" He sounds impatient, but Kayla just beams.
"Can we do blood?" she asks.
"Not mine," Rodney says. He leans back in the chair as the two of them start to discuss the merits of viewing fresh blood on slides compared to the prepared one that came with the kit. He seems comfortable in John's kitchen, and John decides he likes having him there. Rodney seems solid -- and sure, that might have something to do with his physical build, which is sturdy and padded, but John thinks it has more to do with something that he exudes, confidence and reliability. Something that's been missing from John's life, maybe.
"We could use Daddy's," Kayla suggests.
Rodney yelps in dismay. "No! No, no, no. Not when he's sick. Do you want to get sick, too?"
"She probably will anyway," John says. "We kind of tend to pass stuff back and forth." He remembers Kayla's terror the first time they'd both been sick after Elizabeth had died; she'd been afraid that they had cancer, too, and insisted on sleeping in John's bed for three nights until he'd been able to reassure her that he wasn't going to die, that he was fine, see, everything was okay.
"They do make this stuff nowadays, you know. Maybe you've heard of it? It's called soap." Rodney's completely serious, which makes John smile again even though he's starting to feel kind of crappy again. Rodney notices right away. "Go on back to bed. We're fine here." He glances at Kayla, who nods.
"It's okay, Daddy. We'll bring you pizza later." This is clearly meant to be a bribe of some kind.
"Sure," John says. "Thanks." It feels like an incredible luxury to be able to leave Kayla in someone else's care.
He takes another nap. Later, they all have pizza -- John and Rodney split an order of onion rings, which Kayla declares 'icky' -- and watch The Grimm Adventures of Billy and Mandy. Rodney and John laugh at the same jokes, usually ones that go over Kayla's head, and on three occasions their fingers touch when reaching for another onion ring. They grin at each other, only a little bit awkward, and then Kayla lies down across both their laps, her head on John's thigh and her legs draped over Rodney's.
"Oh, yes, just pretend I'm furniture," Rodney says, but he sounds shy and a little bit pleased.
John falls asleep there, with the tv still on and Rodney and Kayla laughing softly like background music.
TBC
Part 2
Part 3
Rodney is wrong about one thing; John doesn't have a lot of friends. Some, of course, because it would be weird not to have any, but most of his closer friends had been people he worked with, and that all changed when Elizabeth got sick. There's still Sam, who started out as Elizabeth's friend and somehow, along the way, became John's, and he's friendly with the parents of some of Kayla's friends, but really, he's pretty isolated. He knows that's not good long-term, but he hasn't figured out yet where the line is between short term and long term. Maybe he's already crossed it. But there are enough other things to worry about -- money, for one -- that whether or not he should have more adult socialization is pretty far down on the list.
He figures Rodney will call the next day, but there's no call. Kayla starts school and John starts looking for a job again. It's not easy; most places expect potential employees to be available more than 25 hours a week, and aren't all that understanding when you need a week off so you can stay home with your kid during school vacation.
Sitting at the kitchen table one morning, he sighs and sets down his pen. The list of possible jobs is smaller than it was three days ago, and he's no closer to actually finding one. Not to mention he feels like shit. He's still in his bathrobe; he'd put on his jacket to walk Kayle to the bus stop, but when he got back to the house he slipped the robe on again.
Frustrated and shivering, John goes to lie down on the couch. It makes him feel like a jerk, lying down in the daytime, but he's obviously coming down with something and he's just going to rest for five minutes. Ten, tops.
He wakes up an hour and a half later to the shrill of the phone ringing. His head hurts and his bones ache and even his hair hurts, which shouldn't be possible. He staggers to the phone and picks it up.
"Hello?" he croaks.
"What the hell happened to you?" Rodney McKay asks.
"I was sleeping," John says. Shit, his throat is sore. Is it possible for kids to bring germs home from school and give their parents colds without actually being sick themselves?
"It's after noon," Rodney says. "Were you... oh God, did I interrupt some mid-day tryst?"
"What?" John says. "No. I think I'm sick."
Rodney becomes all business like a switch has been flipped. "Do you have a fever?"
"I don't know. Maybe." He can't remember where the thermometer is. He shivers. "Yes."
"Headache? Sore throat? Cough?"
"Um... yes, yes, no." John's chest feels tight, though, like coughing could be right around the corner.
"You should go to the doctor," Rodney says.
"I don't have time," John says. His eyes move to the clock, which actually reads closer to one than twelve. "I have to meet Kayla at the bus stop in a couple of hours."
Rodney makes a small sound John can't translate. "You shouldn't be walking around outside in this weather if you're sick. It's raining."
"It is?" It hadn't been a few hours before.
"Have you been living under a rock?" Rodney asks. "Yes; there's a cold front coming in. Look, go lie back down, okay? I'll be there in a little while." He hangs up.
John listens to the dial tone for a few seconds, then puts the phone down. He must have misheard, because there's no way Rodney's coming over. Rodney doesn't even know where he lives.
He's huddled in front of the stove waiting for water to boil when there's a knock at the door. Weirdly, he's not all that surprised to see Rodney McKay standing on his porch. Behind John, the tea kettle starts to whistle.
"You should be lying down," Rodney tells him, coming in. "Go to bed. I'll get that."
John follows him, though, into the kitchen, and watches while Rodney unpacks the plastic shopping bag he's brought along with him, setting a can down on the table. "You brought soup?"
"You're supposed to have soup when you're sick," Rodney says, sounding a little bit defensive.
"Yeah, I know, I just... how did you get here?"
"I flew," Rodney says, rolling his eyes. "Didn't I tell you? I'm actually a wereflamingo."
John is definitely sick, because it takes him a few long seconds to realize that's a joke. "Do flamingos even fly?"
"Of course they fly," Rodney says. "It's penguins that don't."
"Right. Penguins." John shivers.
Concern doesn't seem like a look Rodney wears very often, but John still recognizes it. "You really are sick," he says, and comes over and feels John's forehead -- one hand on the back of John's neck to steady him, the other with the palm pressed to his forehead. Rodney's hands are big and cool, and his touch makes John weak in the knees.
Of course, he is running a fever.
"You're burning up," Rodney says, letting go. "Not literally, of course, but go to bed. Now. I'll bring you some soup in a few minutes. Where's the bedroom, upstairs?"
"Uh huh." John shuffles off upstairs and collapses onto the bed, not even bothering to pull up the covers. The pillowcase feels cool against his cheek, and when he opens his eyes again Rodney is standing over him with a tray that he'd forgotten he even had.
"What are you, four?" Rodney asks. "Sit up."
John does, and Rodney puts the tray down across his lap. "You didn't have to do this, you know. But thanks."
"Yes, well, don't think I don't realize that I'm doing you a serious favor here. I'll expect you to repay me at some point in the future." But Rodney grins a little, like he's not really serious. "Here, take these. You'll feel better if we can get your fever down." He hands over two pills and John takes them without protest.
He can barely keep his eyes open long enough to eat the soup. "I have to meet Kayla when she gets off the bus," he says as Rodney takes the tray away and pulls the covers up over him.
"I'll do it." Rodney says. "Where and when?"
"At the end of the street, where it meets the main road." John forces his eyes open. "I should go."
"No, you should stay here and rest," Rodney says. "It'll be okay. Trust me."
And, strangely enough, John realizes as he drifts back off to sleep, he does.
John wakes up to the sound of voices downstairs. It takes him a minute to realize what the hell is going on, but Kayla's familiar, cheerful voice floats up the stairs reassures him before he can even start to worry.
He feels better. Not great, but he aches less and he's not shivering.
Slowly, he gets up. He's still wearing his bathrobe, so all he has to do is pull it more tightly around himself before padding down the stairs in his stocking feet. Kayla and Rodney are in the kitchen, the microscope he bought her on the table and the prepared slides pushed to one side in favor of a small collection of ones they've obviously put together themselves. The little clear plastic things -- John can't remember what they're called, if he ever knew -- are scattered all over the place, and one of them is caught in the ends of Kayla's hair.
"Daddy," she says, getting up and coming over to hug him. He leans over her and kisses the top of her head. "Do you have a cold?"
"I guess I do," John says.
"Poor daddy." Kayla pats his leg. "Rodney met me at the bus stop. I was surprised."
"I'll bet you were."
She goes and sits back down again. "Rodney said you were sick. He said it's really important to take care of yourself when you're sick, because when your immune system is compromised you're more prone to con... contacting other infections?" Kayla looks at Rodney.
"Contracting," Rodney says. "Speaking of which, you might not want to touch these slides."
"We were seeing if there was any bacteria in our spit," Kayla says solemnly.
"Oh." After years of raising a child, the thought of saliva is pretty low on the list of things that gross John out. He sits down, leaning his forearms on the table. "Those are all spit?"
"No. Just these two." Kayla points.
"Should I be afraid to ask what the other ones are?" John asks, raising an eyebrow at Rodney.
"Probably," Rodney says. "You look better. Less glassy-eyed."
"Yeah? I feel better. Not that I'm planning on running any marathons in the next couple of days."
Rodney shudders dramatically. "I hope not. You do realize that that kind of high-impact exercise erodes your joints, don't you?"
John grins. "I guess I never thought about it."
"Well, you should. You've got to take care of yourself."
"Daddy, Rodney said we can have pizza," Kayla says.
"My treat," Rodney adds. He looks at John thoughtfully. "Although maybe that wouldn't be the best choice, considering..."
"You promised!" Kayla protests.
"Kayla," John says with reproach.
She pouts, crossing her arms. "Okay, okay," she says. "He didn't promise, but he said."
John wonders how long it's going to be before he's tired of hearing 'Rodney said.' "Don't be rude," he warns her.
"I wasn't being rude, I was explaining," Kayla says, but John's expression makes her capitulate. "Sorry."
"Pizza sounds good," John says, more to Rodney than to Kayla. "It's not a stomach thing."
"Thank God." Rodney looks relieved.
"So spitting all over slides is okay as long as you don't have to be near people who might throw up?" John asks.
"This is scientific," Rodney says.
Kayla is tugging on Rodney's sleeve, requesting his attention, and he sighs and gives it to her. "Yes, what do you want?" He sounds impatient, but Kayla just beams.
"Can we do blood?" she asks.
"Not mine," Rodney says. He leans back in the chair as the two of them start to discuss the merits of viewing fresh blood on slides compared to the prepared one that came with the kit. He seems comfortable in John's kitchen, and John decides he likes having him there. Rodney seems solid -- and sure, that might have something to do with his physical build, which is sturdy and padded, but John thinks it has more to do with something that he exudes, confidence and reliability. Something that's been missing from John's life, maybe.
"We could use Daddy's," Kayla suggests.
Rodney yelps in dismay. "No! No, no, no. Not when he's sick. Do you want to get sick, too?"
"She probably will anyway," John says. "We kind of tend to pass stuff back and forth." He remembers Kayla's terror the first time they'd both been sick after Elizabeth had died; she'd been afraid that they had cancer, too, and insisted on sleeping in John's bed for three nights until he'd been able to reassure her that he wasn't going to die, that he was fine, see, everything was okay.
"They do make this stuff nowadays, you know. Maybe you've heard of it? It's called soap." Rodney's completely serious, which makes John smile again even though he's starting to feel kind of crappy again. Rodney notices right away. "Go on back to bed. We're fine here." He glances at Kayla, who nods.
"It's okay, Daddy. We'll bring you pizza later." This is clearly meant to be a bribe of some kind.
"Sure," John says. "Thanks." It feels like an incredible luxury to be able to leave Kayla in someone else's care.
He takes another nap. Later, they all have pizza -- John and Rodney split an order of onion rings, which Kayla declares 'icky' -- and watch The Grimm Adventures of Billy and Mandy. Rodney and John laugh at the same jokes, usually ones that go over Kayla's head, and on three occasions their fingers touch when reaching for another onion ring. They grin at each other, only a little bit awkward, and then Kayla lies down across both their laps, her head on John's thigh and her legs draped over Rodney's.
"Oh, yes, just pretend I'm furniture," Rodney says, but he sounds shy and a little bit pleased.
John falls asleep there, with the tv still on and Rodney and Kayla laughing softly like background music.
TBC
