part four
John was having the weirdest dream. Rodney was wearing nothing but whipped cream, but for some reason he wasn't letting anyone lick it off unless they ate the rug in his room. So John, having eaten all kinds of crap in survival training, decided that chewing on an Ancient rug was a small sacrifice. He cut off a piece and started munching on it, but it suddenly had developed a life of its own and jumped on his face and tried to suffocate him. John attempted to push the rug off, but it was clinging to his face. He couldn't breathe, damn it! And for some reason, Rodney was laughing at him hysterically.
"Pfweh!" John spat, and swatted at the rug. The rug scratched him and John's eyes flew open just as Rodney flew across the room with an indignant yowl.
Oh, sure, I see how it is! Rodney seethed from the floor. Toss the cat unceremoniously to the floor! What the hell was that for anyway?
"Were you sleeping on my face?" John said before frantically wiping the back of his hand at his tongue, which seemed to have developed a fur coat overnight.
Rodney jumped back up on the bed but kept away from John, glaring at him accusingly.
I wasn't sleeping there! You were sleeping like a sack of – like a log, and I need my sustenance, thank you very much, so I was just trying to get you up so we can get out of here and have some food.
John glared back at him, but the glare was disrupted by a cough. "Well, there are more polite ways to wake people up than giving them hairballs..."
You are not even allowed to complain about hairballs. You should see what I hacked up last night! Actually, you will see. Be careful where you step when you finally get your ass out of bed.
John looked both disgusted and irritated. "You didn't..."
Hey, so not my fault. Also, did I mention I was hungry? Because, you know, some food would be nice right now, Rodney said as he cleaned a paw.
"Well, it's gonna ha-khah! - have to wait now," John said crossly, getting up from the bed and avoiding the hairball. "I'm gonna shower. And shave. And vacuum! And then we eat."
Oh, sure, starve me to death! It's not like I can fend for myself here, you know, Rodney grumbled as he curled up on the indent in John's pillow.
John ignored him and headed for the bathroom, mumbling something that Rodney couldn't quite hear but which contained the word "neuter". Rodney tried to flip him a bird, but realized that he didn't have a middle finger anymore, so he settled for sticking his tongue out at John's back.
John sneezed as he emerged from the shower and winced at the echo from the bathroom walls. What did the Ancients need such huge bathrooms for? On second thought, he didn't really want to know. He wiped his face with a towel, and sneezed again. Suddenly, John was hit with a dreadful suspicion. A quick glance into the mirror showed bloodshot eyes, a red nose and a puffy face.
"Shit!"
What the hell happened to you? Rodney asked when John rushed out of the bathroom, dripping on the floor. I mean, you're usually kind of a mess in the morning, but this is a whole new level.
John glared at Rodney and sneezed again. "I'm not a mess in the morning!" He located a clean pair of BDU pants under the table and pulled them on. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. Let's go eat."
Not to sound totally unappreciative about the fact that you've finally come to your senses about the food situation or anything, because I really am wasting away to nothing over here, but I know you better then that. Why do you look like you just spent an hour sobbing into your rather comfortable pillow? Rodney kneaded said pillow but didn't budge an inch toward the door.
John grimaced and scratched his still-stubbled cheek. "Well-" he began. "I think... I am not a doctor, but-"
Oh God! Rodney stopped kneading the pillow and stared at John in horror. Something's wrong with me, isn't it? I mean, something other than the obvious. You and Carson, you talked and decided not to tell me because you didn't want to upset me, right? This is permanent, isn't it? I'm not dying, am I? Oh God, I'm totally dying! How could you keep this from me? I realize you just wanted me to live out my last few days in peace but you had no right to...
"Rodney! It's not you!" John snapped, now scratching his cheek with more gusto. "Well, it is you- sort of. Breakfast's gonna have to wait, because I think I'm allergic to – to cats, and I need to go see Carson before I claw my eyes out."
Rodney cocked his head to the side and treated John to a narrow-eyed stare. Allergic? Oh PLEASE! I'm practically having an aneurism over here, thinking of all the things I'm going to need you to do after I'm gone to make sure this place doesn't sink back into the ocean, and you're standing there looking all upset because you're allergic to me! Rodney huffed and jumped off the bed.
"Well, excuse me for thinking you might be upset about my being unable to be around you during all this!" John glared at him.
Like you're getting out of it that easy. There's this wonderful little invention called antihistamines, you know. Rodney padded over to the door and looked at John expectantly. Well, come on, the sooner you let Carson give you the magic pills, the sooner we can eat.
John gave him a dirty look and then glared at the door, which snapped open so fast that Rodney tumbled out into the corridor. This brought a smile to John's face, but it quickly vanished as the tip of his nose began to itch.
"It's not that uncommon, Major. A lot of people have pet allergies," Carson said as he got up to dispose of the lancet.
John sighed and stared at the spot on his forearm where the word "cat" was written in permanent marker. "I don't have pet allergies. I have Rodney allergies."
"I can think of at least ten people in the labs that wish they could use that excuse on a daily basis," Carson mumbled, as he rifled through the drug cabinet, trying to locate the medication John would need if the test came back positive.
John fought the urge to scratch the test site. "Well, now they might have it. You should announce it just in case – Rodney probably wouldn't like if people got sick because of him."
Oh sure, Rodney sounded irked. Give them an excuse to get out of work and then make it sound like I'd be a jerk for denying them the leave. How about I just start saying I'm allergic to stupid? Maybe Elizabeth will let me work from my room from now on.
Carson re-appeared from the cabinet and peered at John's arm.
"You're allergic, all right," he said, and John rolled his eyes. Rodney tried to continue his rant, but they both ignored him and he fell silent.
"Take these pills twice a day." Carson put a pill bottle on the table and reached John some pills along with a glass of water. "There's enough there for a week. And here are some eye drops, too..."
John swallowed the pills gratefully, stashed the offered medications in his pockets and furtively scratched his arm again. "Thanks, Carson. So you'll send out a group e-mail later?" he said, pointedly ignoring Rodney.
"I'm on top of it, no worries."
John hopped down off the exam table and sneezed. "Good. I'd hate for anybody to go through this if it can be avoided." He looked around for Rodney, but the latter was nowhere to be seen. John frowned.
"Hey, did you see where Rodney went?" he asked the doctor.
Carson shrugged. "Well, he was right here a moment..."
A loud squeak from the back corner of the infirmary made both of them turn around. Rodney sat next to one of the cages Carson kept in that corner. The cage door was ajar and something long and thin that looked suspiciously like a mouse tail was sticking out of Rodney's mouth.
"RODNEY!" Carson yelled in horror.
AAAAAAH! Rodney spat the dazed-looking mouse out onto the floor and frantically rubbed at his face with a paw. If I catch anything from this - vermin, it'll be all your fault, Sheppard!"
John just stood there gaping at him for a moment. "My fault? I don't recall telling you to eat one of Carson's lab mice!" John made a face that clearly said he was too disgusted for words.
I told you I was starving! Rodney whined, eyeing the cage full of mice longingly. You see what I had to resort to? If you could have held off on your little allergy freak out for another half hour, none of this would have happened.
"Well, if you hadn't rubbed yourself all over my face I wouldn't be itching in places I didn't know existed before this morning!" John snapped and then realized that Carson was now staring at him strangely. "Oops, that came out wrong..."
"I don't want to know." Carson said after a moment.
"I can exp..." John began.
"No, really, I don't want to know at all. Take Rodney and get out of here," Carson practically begged.
Carson, did any of those mice have...
"OUT!" Carson shouted and pointed at the door.
John scooped up Rodney from the table and headed for the door. I'm going to be in therapy for life now, you know, Rodney complained as they left the office.
"I think Carson will be joining you there," John remarked darkly.
Carson slumped down into his chair as their bickering voices faded into the distance. They really didn't pay him enough for this, he decided. Something scurried across his foot and Carson jumped out of the chair and looked down just in time to see one of his mice run behind the exam table. No, there really wasn't enough liquor in either galaxy to compensate for this.
