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trinityofoneOMG BROADBAND. I LOVE YOU. I MISSED YOU.
In, er, celebration? Here are three ficlets that resulted from conversations![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
siriaeve and I had this weekend. She takes FULL AND COMPLETE RESPONSIBILITY. Especially for the first one.
Rodney’s Retarded Cat - 743 words
From the way Rodney’s described him, John half expects Rodney’s cat, Tesla, to walk on its hind legs, to perform complex calculations at a miniature board with a piece of chalk gripped between its paws. So basically, he realizes, somewhat disturbed, he’s expecting Rodney’s cat to be kind of like Puss in Boots from the second Shrek movie, only perhaps with a little pair of wire-rimmed spectacles perched on its nose, and not voiced by Antonio Banderas.
“Just wait till you see him, Tesla is the most incredible cat in the world,” Rodney says, for something like the 728th time as they walk up the stairs to his apartment. John rolls his eyes; at this point, a cat who speaks English isn’t going to be enough to impress him—it’s gonna have to converse solely in Shakespearean verse, and be fluent in French and Latin, to boot.
“Tesla!” Rodney coos, the second they’re in the door, and then a streak of stripy fur is bounding toward them, making a beeline for Rodney’s extended arms.
And yet somehow, although the line is almost ruler-straight, the cat instead runs head-first into the wall.
There is a loud thunk.
“Oh,” Rodney says, seemingly unperturbed. He scoops the cat into his arms, who blinks at him with stunned, stupid eyes. Rodney skritches the cat’s forehead. “Guess we’ll have to work on that one some more, huh, pal?”
“Um,” John says, searching for the polite thing. “Is he blind?”
Rodney gives him the look that seems to suggest that John permanently scrambled his brain with too much early-career stunt flying. “No,” Rodney says, making his way toward the couch, gesturing abstractedly with his head, indicating that John should follow. He sits down, settling Tesla into his lap. “Did you miss me?” Rodney is asking—the cat, apparently. “Here, meet John.”
John finds himself getting passed a bundle of warm fur. “Hi, Tesla,” he tries. He’s always felt a little awkward around animals. His first and only dog, Tom, was hit by a car, and even though he remembers taking care to close the gate, he still half-believes his father’s accusation that he left it open. “Um, Rodney?” he says, a moment later, when he sees that the cat is attempting to eat his zipper. “Is he supposed to...?”
“Tesla, no,” Rodney says, gently. “Are you hungry? Here, I’ll get you some treats.”
Rodney gets up and moves toward the kitchen, and John looks after him, somewhat desperately. He knows how much this cat means to Rodney, and he feels oddly nervous being left alone with it, responsible.
At that moment, Tesla apparently decides that it would be a great idea to make a brave and heroic leap from John’s arms onto the carpet. “Tesla!” John hisses, but the cat wiggles free and executes a dainty dive. At the last second, however, something goes wrong: John finds himself staring down at a cat who’s on his back, blinking up at John from where he’s sprawled. Tesla shakes it off in less than a second, however, pulling himself to four rubbery legs and weaving toward the kitchen with a twitch of his tail.
Rodney intercepts him halfway there and scoops him up again, feeding him Whiskas from his palm. “You did miss me,” he says happily, then settles down next to John again.
John stares at the cat, who’s ignoring a perfectly good kitty treat in an attempt to consume Rodney’s thumb. “I don’t think he likes me,” he says.
Rodney dismisses the concern with a handwave. “He’s just overexcited,” Rodney says. “Here, I know what will calm him down.” He flicks on the TV, scrolls through the menu on his TiVo. “There.”
Tesla’s ears perk up. He crawls off Rodney’s lap and onto one of the plumper couch cushions, where he settles, eyes wide, ears raised, tail twitching. Staring, fascinated. “He loves this show,” Rodney explains, indulgently.
John spends several seconds wondering if perhaps he’s having another alien mist-sponsored hallucination. Then he says (just to confirm), “The Simple Life?”
Rodney nods, stroking along Tesla’s back.
“Wow,” John says, unable to help himself. “Your cat’s really stupid.”
“Special,” Rodney corrects, oddly undefensive. He smiles down at the cat, then back up at John, eyes just as wide as Tesla’s, awed. “Isn’t he something?”
Rodney’s willing to endure Paris Hilton for this cat, John thinks, and he feels himself nodding, yes.
He’s something, all right.
Rodney Slept - 219 words
Rodney slept. Curled on his side with his face smushed into the pillow, mouth slightly open and eyelashes dark against his cheeks. John watched him, both relieved and oddly sad: so temporary. This rest, this respite. And John couldn’t even join him in it.
John knew that Rodney didn’t get enough sleep. He worked shockingly long hours, with an eager readiness that John didn’t really understand, but respected. Not, however, as much as he envied Rodney’s ability to fall into slumber the second his head hit the pillow. It was something they had tried to drill into John at the Academy; another in the long list of things that didn’t take.
John slept uneasily, and he dreamed.
But Rodney, Rodney entered the land of Nod with complete abandon, with a bravery John lacked. Asleep, he sighed happily to himself; his snores were almost a hum, a purr. He drooled.
It was a pity that he couldn’t visit there more often.
It was a pity: that John couldn’t crawl into bed beside him, couldn’t drape his body over Rodney’s back, his arms around his chest. Couldn’t sleep easily with his head snug against Rodney’s shoulder, safe and secure and warm.
But he couldn’t do that.
He watched Rodney’s chest: deep slow breaths, in and out. Restful.
He could stand sentry.
What John Misses - 220 words
“This worries me,” Rodney said.
As phrases went, this was not an uncommon one to emerge from Rodney’s lips. It was, however, slightly disturbing to John to hear it follow on his own pronouncement of, “God, Rodney, your nipples are so hot.”
“What?” said John, reluctantly pulling his mouth away from the target they had almost—almost!—reached. “Why?”
Rodney frowned down at him, and John wasn’t entirely sure whether the expression was due to the question, or to the fact that John had stopped. “Because of all my myriad appealing attributes, you pick, well.”
“Well?” said John. Rodney’s nipples were still perky and defined, mere millimetres away from John’s fingers. He couldn’t help himself: he drew his thumb over the left, slow teasing scrape, his eyes never leaving Rodney’s.
The breath Rodney released was almost ragged. As was his accusatory, “You miss breasts, don’t you?”
“Oh, yeah,” John said, teasing the left-hand nipple between forefinger and thumb, then finally, finally lowering his mouth to its goal: licking over Rodney’s right nipple, then pulling it into his mouth, sucking. “Terribly,” he mumbled.
“I knew it,” Rodney said, arching his chest into John’s mouth, his touch. His fingers tangled in John’s hair.
In a few minutes, John decided, he’d show Rodney how much he missed pussy by sucking Rodney’s cock.
In, er, celebration? Here are three ficlets that resulted from conversations
siriaeve and I had this weekend. She takes FULL AND COMPLETE RESPONSIBILITY. Especially for the first one.Rodney’s Retarded Cat - 743 words
From the way Rodney’s described him, John half expects Rodney’s cat, Tesla, to walk on its hind legs, to perform complex calculations at a miniature board with a piece of chalk gripped between its paws. So basically, he realizes, somewhat disturbed, he’s expecting Rodney’s cat to be kind of like Puss in Boots from the second Shrek movie, only perhaps with a little pair of wire-rimmed spectacles perched on its nose, and not voiced by Antonio Banderas.
“Just wait till you see him, Tesla is the most incredible cat in the world,” Rodney says, for something like the 728th time as they walk up the stairs to his apartment. John rolls his eyes; at this point, a cat who speaks English isn’t going to be enough to impress him—it’s gonna have to converse solely in Shakespearean verse, and be fluent in French and Latin, to boot.
“Tesla!” Rodney coos, the second they’re in the door, and then a streak of stripy fur is bounding toward them, making a beeline for Rodney’s extended arms.
And yet somehow, although the line is almost ruler-straight, the cat instead runs head-first into the wall.
There is a loud thunk.
“Oh,” Rodney says, seemingly unperturbed. He scoops the cat into his arms, who blinks at him with stunned, stupid eyes. Rodney skritches the cat’s forehead. “Guess we’ll have to work on that one some more, huh, pal?”
“Um,” John says, searching for the polite thing. “Is he blind?”
Rodney gives him the look that seems to suggest that John permanently scrambled his brain with too much early-career stunt flying. “No,” Rodney says, making his way toward the couch, gesturing abstractedly with his head, indicating that John should follow. He sits down, settling Tesla into his lap. “Did you miss me?” Rodney is asking—the cat, apparently. “Here, meet John.”
John finds himself getting passed a bundle of warm fur. “Hi, Tesla,” he tries. He’s always felt a little awkward around animals. His first and only dog, Tom, was hit by a car, and even though he remembers taking care to close the gate, he still half-believes his father’s accusation that he left it open. “Um, Rodney?” he says, a moment later, when he sees that the cat is attempting to eat his zipper. “Is he supposed to...?”
“Tesla, no,” Rodney says, gently. “Are you hungry? Here, I’ll get you some treats.”
Rodney gets up and moves toward the kitchen, and John looks after him, somewhat desperately. He knows how much this cat means to Rodney, and he feels oddly nervous being left alone with it, responsible.
At that moment, Tesla apparently decides that it would be a great idea to make a brave and heroic leap from John’s arms onto the carpet. “Tesla!” John hisses, but the cat wiggles free and executes a dainty dive. At the last second, however, something goes wrong: John finds himself staring down at a cat who’s on his back, blinking up at John from where he’s sprawled. Tesla shakes it off in less than a second, however, pulling himself to four rubbery legs and weaving toward the kitchen with a twitch of his tail.
Rodney intercepts him halfway there and scoops him up again, feeding him Whiskas from his palm. “You did miss me,” he says happily, then settles down next to John again.
John stares at the cat, who’s ignoring a perfectly good kitty treat in an attempt to consume Rodney’s thumb. “I don’t think he likes me,” he says.
Rodney dismisses the concern with a handwave. “He’s just overexcited,” Rodney says. “Here, I know what will calm him down.” He flicks on the TV, scrolls through the menu on his TiVo. “There.”
Tesla’s ears perk up. He crawls off Rodney’s lap and onto one of the plumper couch cushions, where he settles, eyes wide, ears raised, tail twitching. Staring, fascinated. “He loves this show,” Rodney explains, indulgently.
John spends several seconds wondering if perhaps he’s having another alien mist-sponsored hallucination. Then he says (just to confirm), “The Simple Life?”
Rodney nods, stroking along Tesla’s back.
“Wow,” John says, unable to help himself. “Your cat’s really stupid.”
“Special,” Rodney corrects, oddly undefensive. He smiles down at the cat, then back up at John, eyes just as wide as Tesla’s, awed. “Isn’t he something?”
Rodney’s willing to endure Paris Hilton for this cat, John thinks, and he feels himself nodding, yes.
He’s something, all right.
Rodney Slept - 219 words
Rodney slept. Curled on his side with his face smushed into the pillow, mouth slightly open and eyelashes dark against his cheeks. John watched him, both relieved and oddly sad: so temporary. This rest, this respite. And John couldn’t even join him in it.
John knew that Rodney didn’t get enough sleep. He worked shockingly long hours, with an eager readiness that John didn’t really understand, but respected. Not, however, as much as he envied Rodney’s ability to fall into slumber the second his head hit the pillow. It was something they had tried to drill into John at the Academy; another in the long list of things that didn’t take.
John slept uneasily, and he dreamed.
But Rodney, Rodney entered the land of Nod with complete abandon, with a bravery John lacked. Asleep, he sighed happily to himself; his snores were almost a hum, a purr. He drooled.
It was a pity that he couldn’t visit there more often.
It was a pity: that John couldn’t crawl into bed beside him, couldn’t drape his body over Rodney’s back, his arms around his chest. Couldn’t sleep easily with his head snug against Rodney’s shoulder, safe and secure and warm.
But he couldn’t do that.
He watched Rodney’s chest: deep slow breaths, in and out. Restful.
He could stand sentry.
What John Misses - 220 words
“This worries me,” Rodney said.
As phrases went, this was not an uncommon one to emerge from Rodney’s lips. It was, however, slightly disturbing to John to hear it follow on his own pronouncement of, “God, Rodney, your nipples are so hot.”
“What?” said John, reluctantly pulling his mouth away from the target they had almost—almost!—reached. “Why?”
Rodney frowned down at him, and John wasn’t entirely sure whether the expression was due to the question, or to the fact that John had stopped. “Because of all my myriad appealing attributes, you pick, well.”
“Well?” said John. Rodney’s nipples were still perky and defined, mere millimetres away from John’s fingers. He couldn’t help himself: he drew his thumb over the left, slow teasing scrape, his eyes never leaving Rodney’s.
The breath Rodney released was almost ragged. As was his accusatory, “You miss breasts, don’t you?”
“Oh, yeah,” John said, teasing the left-hand nipple between forefinger and thumb, then finally, finally lowering his mouth to its goal: licking over Rodney’s right nipple, then pulling it into his mouth, sucking. “Terribly,” he mumbled.
“I knew it,” Rodney said, arching his chest into John’s mouth, his touch. His fingers tangled in John’s hair.
In a few minutes, John decided, he’d show Rodney how much he missed pussy by sucking Rodney’s cock.
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Date: 2006-04-17 08:36 pm (UTC)love.