FIC: Schlubs Standing in the Rain With Cupcakes

[scribblinlenore]

Happy V-day to everybody! I wanted to say thank you, thank you to destina for the candy hearts on my user info page, the box of chocolates from my mystery friend, and all the lovely friends who left comments for me in svmadelyn's Valentine's Game.

I wanted to write some fluff to celebrate the day, but they've actually been making me work at work lately. Oh new ad campaign, why won't you write yourself? Anyway, it's finally done, and, hey, it's still Valentine's Day for a few more hours!

Title: Schlubs Standing in the Rain With Cupcakes
Fandom: SGA
Pairing: John/Rodney
Rating: R
Summary: Recounting sucky Valentines Days past leads to better Valentines Days to come.

Note: This is for the Sunday Brunch Brain Trust, with special wishes for a happy day. :)



Schlubs Standing in the Rain With Cupcakes
By Lenore

"There was the time my girlfriend bought me this sparkly pink g-string and insisted I do a strip tease for her, and laughed her ass off the whole time I was trying to dance, but whenever I stopped, she'd pout and say, 'You don't like your present, do you?' I had glitter on my dick for weeks afterwards."

John concluded this little confession by tossing back his shot of tequila, not his first, not by a long shot.

He poured another for Rodney. "Okay, McKay. Your turn."

The bottle of tequila was almost half gone, and Rodney was perhaps not quite as sharp witted as he'd been twenty minutes ago. "What's the point of this game again?"

"Exorcising our demons." It came out with a few extra sh's in it.

Rodney eyed him. "This is really just an excuse to get drunk, isn't it?"

John leered playfully. "Maybe it's an excuse to get you drunk, McKay, so I can have my wicked way with you."

Rodney snorted and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like I've never had that kind of luck, and launched into his next tale of woe.

"So there was the time in graduate school when I was dating this girl Sophie, and she wanted a pink cupcake for Valentine's Day. Only it had to be from this one particular bakery that was all the way on the other side of town. It was raining, of course, so I couldn't get a cab, and I waited forever for the bus, and it never came, so I had to walk, and I got drenched, and there weren't any more pink cupcakes left by the time I got there, just red ones. So I got a red one, and started back home, and it was raining even harder, and I still couldn't get a cab, and I called Sophie to tell her that I might be a little late, and, oh, by the way, I had to get a red cupcake instead, and she got mad and yelled, 'I ask you for one little thing.' And broke up with me right then, over the phone, just as the long lost bus went speeding past, sending this wall of water splashing up, knocking the bag out of my hand, washing it all the way to the Gulf of Mexico, I'm pretty sure." Rodney sighed. "So I didn't even get to eat the cupcake."

"That really sucked," John said solemnly.

"Yeah." Rodney took hold of his shot glass a little over zealously, making liquid slosh over the rim, and tipped his head back. "Okay. Now you."

John tilted his head, considering. "Okay, so the last year we were married, my wife got me one of those big, stupid cards that goes on for pages. You know, the really huge ones?" He demonstrated with his hands. "And she filled the whole thing, every last bit of space that didn't have something printed on it with all the reasons she hated me. She had this really tiny handwriting, too." He made a wry face. "You can imagine how many complaints she had."

Rodney stared. "You were married?"

John did two shots in rapid succession in reply.

"Most Valentine's Days I spend alone," Rodney said. "That doesn't seem nearly as pathetic now that I'm remembering how bad it always went when I did have a girlfriend."

John nodded. "Nothing's worse than spending the day with someone who hates you."

Rodney was just drunk enough that this seemed rather profound.

"This is good, though." John clapped Rodney on the back, messily, almost losing his balance and toppling off his chair. "Hanging out with a buddy."

"I don't hate you," Rodney observed.

John smiled. "That's cool."

"Yeah." Rodney leaned closer.

John met him halfway. "I don't hate you either."

"That may be the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me on Valentine's Day."

Rodney wasn't actually being facetious, but John smiled nonetheless and darted a stealthy kiss to Rodney's mouth, or tried to at least. His aim wasn't quite what it had been seven shots of tequila ago. He wound up somewhere in the vicinity of Rodney's right nostril.

Rodney grabbed John by the chin. "Stop moving!"

He was talking as much to the room as the colonel--the colonel cooperated at least. Rodney closed his eyes and fell forward, and then they were kissing. This was quickly followed by low moans and groping and clothes tossed in the air. The trip to the bed involved some rather precarious lurching, but once they got there, it was all good, murmurs of I'd never make you wear anything sparkly or pink and I bet you'd look hot all wet from the rain, amidst a flurry of touching.


John woke in the morning with a dull throbbing behind his eyes, Rodney's knee pressed determinedly between his thighs, Rodney himself slumped across his chest, drooling on him. John shifted positions, and muscles he wasn't used to hearing from protested, and that answered that very important question, I wonder what we did last night?

Rodney's eyes fluttered open, and he looked more confused than John had ever seen him. It was kind of endearing, really. Rodney licked at his lips, and his expression turned unhappy. "It tastes like something died in there."

John traced circles over Rodney's shoulder. "A night of tequila will do that to you."

Rodney gave him a hard look. "Are you going to get drunk with someone else on some Valentine's Day of the future and recount the nightmare year you woke up naked and sticky and hungover with the bad-tempered geek you worked with?"

John laughed and kissed him. "Actually, I was thinking we could spend all those Valentines Days to come kind of like this, smug about those schlubs who aren't us, standing out in the rain with their half-drowned cupcakes. What do you think?"

Rodney took a moment and then settled his head back down onto John's chest, smiling. "I can do smug."

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Valentine's Day was made for tequila and drunken, manly confessions, I always say! *g*