| Bluespirit |
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light in dark places' |
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From
where I stand in the middle of this heartache
~ a snippet
in the Austin 'Verse
by
Bluespirit
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay
Rating: G
Summary: Rodney's been gone for over six months now.
Genre: AU, angst
Spoilers: None
Word count: ~ 300
Disclaimer: The following story is a work of fiction. The characters and universe are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Gekko Productions and the Sci-Fi Channel. This fic is meant solely for entertainment purposes and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes:
1. This little scene takes place during the time that Rodney has left
John. Just a bit of John!angst that needed to find a voice.
2. Sorry, this won't make much sense if you haven't read 'Atlantis'
first.
John reached over and tugged
open the glove box, looking for someplace to scribble down the
measurements. He fished through a wad of old receipts, the usual junk
littering up the truck, and grabbed one at random.
He stopped.
It was a scorecard, creased and battered around the edges, but he
recognised it straight away; it was from the first time he'd taken Rodney
bowling, their third date. He didn't even need to close his eyes to
remember; he could see Rodney's face as plain as day. His barely concealed
confusion as they'd pulled up outside the alley, 'This is where
you're taking me? Um, why?' His priceless double-take when they'd
gone inside. 'Hello? 1955's calling - they want their stuff back.' And
then the gradual, wide-eyed, honest to god enjoyment as Rodney had
realised that he was actually having a good time. 'It's all just physics!
Hah! This is so my game!' Completed by absolute delight as he’d
jumped up, grin lop-sided and infectious, fist pumping the air when he
made his first strike. 'Yes!!! I so rock! I am a bowling god!'
John swallowed, his throat tight and barren, and slowly unclenched his
fingers, smoothing out the wrinkled paper.
"I said, ‘the first's fourteen by twenty-seven’," Ronon
rumbled, walking over and leaning against the hood. "You get that,
Shep?"
John swallowed again and blinked dry eyes. He tucked the card carefully
into his shirt pocket and nodded, a smile slipping to his mouth if nowhere
else. "Sure, fourteen by twenty-seven. Be right with ya. Le' me just
find something to write on…."
End
Title taken from ‘All Over Me’ by Blake Shelton
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