Title: Virus
Author: Feral Geek
Rating: Pg-13
Disclaimer: Stargate owns me, not the other way 'round, if I did, the Wraith would have less clothes, Sheppard and McKay would be orgasm-ing all over the place, and Dex and Weir would be quite together.
Summary: Poem-fic, the stages of infection, McShep fashion.
ONWARDS!
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Stage One
Incubation.
Gazes lock across a table
time stands still
look away, look away
life goes on.
Undeniable attraction.
Friendly touches linger.
Trailing.
To touch.
Not to touch.
Hover beside the infirmary cot.
Can't leave.
Fear.
Stage Two
Hostile takeover.
Calloused hands run across bared flesh
sweat-slicked skin rubs.
Friction.
Heat.
This is not going in the mission report.
Aliens made them do it.
Do what you must
for the love Atlantis
for the love of a ZedPM.
Nothing happened here.
Just like nothing happened in the storage closet
in the puddlejumper
on the east pier
staggering though halls and loosening clothing.
The list goes on
Touch.
Touch.
Deny.
It is the inevitable.
Stage Three
Treatment.
Chances for recovery are now slim.
Avoidance is recommended
if they care to risk it.
look away, look away.
Misery.
Relapse is a high possibility.
Denial is just a river in Egypt.
Not so.
Stage Four.
Full recovery has never been documented.
Love is a terminal disease.
-Fin-
A/N: So…what did you think? Good? Bad? Written in my geo. course earlier this morning, forgive any mistakes.
Review, review! All is wanted, all is needed.