This is just a fun story.
Rewritten, hopefully improved. I should learn to follow my own rules and wait one week after finishing a piece before posting it!
His back muscles protested in miniature spasms at being hunched in one position for so long. He straightened slightly but remained seated. Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward again.
'Brace the wrist, steeeady hand, finger loose, squeeeze the trigger, and...' pfffffft. 'Release.'
He leaned back from his handy work with a pleased smile. Finished.
It had been one of those weeks- nothing happening then everything happening at once then a trip to the infirmary then crutches and a knee brace for torn ligaments. Bang- grounded.
Since there was serious nothing happening now, he couldn't resist. He had wanted to do this the first time he laid eyes on her. The side was a big open canvas, calling to him when he ate, slept, went about his duties...
He glanced at his watch. Five forty in the morning. He had been doing this all night. Oh well, not like he'd be going anywhere anyway.
He set the makeshift apparatus on the floor beside him, laying back, arms flung wide. He spaced out staring at the ceiling. His sleep deprived mind pondered the reality that was, just months ago, science fiction. It was more terrifying than anything the military had thrown him into but more thrilling than all of Earth had to offer.
But Earth had double-quarter pounders. French fries. Coke...fizzy, syrupy coke. Vanilla ice cream. Root beer. Root beer floats. Beer. Monday night football.
A sharp crash of equipment hitting the floor echoed through the jumper bay, jerking his eyes open. He looked around, not realizing he had dozed off.
Rodney McKay stood, mouth agape in the entry to the bay, a pile of smashed laptop at his feet. "What the hell did you do?"
John tilted his head to look at McKay but didn't move from his reclining position on the floor. He grinned at the upside down irate Canadian. "Do you like it?"
Unable to take his eyes off the jumper, Rodney shook his head in disbelief. He blinked, looking down at John. "What possessed you do that? How did you do it?" His eyes narrowed at the small pile of equipment at John's side. "Is that from my lab?" He stomped over picking up a piece of the makeshift airbrush.
"What, you don't like my flame job?" John half whined. He was tired and his knee was starting to hurt as Beckett's drugs wore off.
McKay rolled his eyes. Finally bring them to rest on the major. Pity squashed any bitter retort but he held it tight, hid it deep. Reputation to protect and all. He planted his feet and held out a hand to his friend.
Sheppard sighed, clasping McKay's wrist and pulling himself to his...foot. Rodney got an arm around John's waist, a hand on his chest to steady him.
"I can do it," John insisted. He reached for the rent-a-crutches Dr Beckett had given him. He tucked them under his arms, taking his weight from Rodney but his exhausted body was resistant to instructions. He closed his eyes, wishing himself to bed.
Rodney watched John fumble with the crutches then zone out. "Oh, yeah, I'll have some of what he's having," he called to the room.
"I'm not 'having', I'm just tired," he stated resolutely.
Rodney snatched the crutches away, rewrapping his arm around John's waist. He turned them toward the door, heading for the major's quarters. Passing the debris of his computer on the floor, he sighed. "When Weir asks, I'm gonna blame you for that, you know."
John responded quietly, concentrating on staying awake and upright, "What else is new?"
As they turned out of the bay, Rodney glanced back at the marvelous flames that now trailed down the side of Jumper One, with the intricate licks and perfect fade. After the door slid shut, cutting off his critique, a thought occurred. Eyebrows raised, he looked at John, "What did you use for paint?"
A/N: The title comes from my life. My hubby's nickname in school was Odie, like the Garfield dog. Whenever he boughta car (to this day even), he does something special to it to make it his personal vehicle, i.e. bright yellow Dodge pickup with bright blue flames, hot pink LeMans wagon with fluorescent blue flames. Right now my 12 passenger van has the Dukes horn, license plate PDLJMPR and is due for a subtle flame job this spring.