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slashing_lorneThis is for skidmo for the ICAW ficathon!
Their request:
Pairing: any
What I want to see in my story: skinny dipping, someone brings Carson homemade shortbread
What I do not want to see in my story: violence of any sort, angst, hurt/comfort
Warnings: Fluff!
Pairing: Surprise!!!
Title:
'Skinny' Being the Operative Word
The man hurried down the hall, sticking close to the walls, eyes looking for any signs of danger. The important package was clutched in his left hand, his right ready to fight off the ravenous wolves that would want its contents. He finally reached his destination and let out a sigh of relief. They wouldn’t hurt him to get the package in here–they took an oath.
“Major, what can I do for ye?” The heavily accented voice threw him for a loop and he jumped before turning, embarrassed, to face the voice’s owner.
“Hey, Doc. How are you?”
Carson narrowed his eyes at the question but said, “I’m just fine. How are you feeling?”
“Perfect!” Before the Scot could ask what he was doing in the infirmary then, Lorne mumbled, “Can we talk in your office?”
Carson hurriedly agreed, obviously concerned for the military man. The Scot shut the door behind the American, motioning for him to take a seat, “Now, what can I do for ye, Major? Something on your mind?”
“Just you. And it’s Nick.” Lorne blurted before he could stop himself.
Beckett looked up from his desk in surprise, eyes wide.
Lorne cleared his throat, “Um. So, you seem busy.” He cringed.
Carson narrowed his eyes in confusion but nodded, “Yes. This is the infirmary, Maj- Nick. It does tend to be a wee bit busy. So what can I do for you?”
“Well, actually, Dr. Weir,” and there he paused. Damn. He was blaming this on someone else already when he knew for a fact that it was completely and utterly his fault. “Uh, Dr. Weir and I were just noticing that you seem very busy lately, and you hardly have any vacation. Well, NO vacation actually.”
He paused again and glanced at the doctor, trying to gauge his reaction but all he got was a raised eyebrow and a very confused look. “You see, we just thought that you could use a few days to relax and, you know... un..wind...” He trailed off as he watched Beckett’s face begin to light in the brightest smile he’d ever seen the Scot give–one that the others told him they’d not seen on the doctor’s face since Perna. He cleared his throat again and smiled, “I, uh, brought you something. My grandmother made them.” ‘Just for you,’ he finished in his head as he handed Carson the tin cannister, but he would be damned if he explained how he’d confessed everything to Nana Lorne and she’d immediately deemed the good doctor the ‘perfect man’.
“What is it?” Carson asked unnecessarily as he practically ripped the tin cover off.
“They’re shortbread cookies. My grandmother is an amazing cook.”
Beckett grinned as he almost inhaled a cookie.
“Careful there, doc, you don’t want to choke. Are you ready to go?”
Carson swallowed the mouthful of shortbread and frowned, “Where are we going? Shouldn’t I pack?”
Lorne grinned, “Nah, we conned McKay to throw some of your stuff in a pack. Everything’s ready!” He neglected to mention that his stash of chocolate was now down by a quarter, but, really, what did it matter if his super-duper-evil-genius-plan worked out anyway?
Well, evil? Nah, probably not so much. The genius was also debatable.
The good doctor followed him out of the infirmary, pausing only a half dozen times to put up protest against leaving his patients. His nurses only gently pushed him away, snagging a cookie from the still open cannister Beckett was munching from. Finally, through pushing and pulling (and Lorne tried not to think about how much he desperately wanted to do the dirty things that phrase conjured up), the major and the doctor ended up in ‘jumper 4 headed to the mainland.
Every once in a while Lorne glanced at the doctor, who was still randomly grabbing cookies while looking out the window. When the long (to Lorne) journey was nearing its end, Nick cleared his throat and mumbled something low in his throat.
Beckett twisted to face him, mouth still full of shortbread cookie, “Wha-?”
Lorne almost giggled like a school girl but stifled it at the last moment. Carson was just too adorable. “I said we’re here. I hope you like it.”
Beckett smiled broadly, the cookie already devoured and safely tucked away in his digestive tract. “I’m sure I’ll enjoy whatever you have in store for me.” And the way he said it, the sly way with a hint of underlying meaning, made Nick’s heart melt and his jaw go slack. Did Beckett feel the same way?
The major let out a squeaky ‘Heh’ that made him want to yell at himself that he HAD hit puberty. He was an adult. He was an Air Force major. He was...
He glanced again at the doctor who was now giving him a dimpled grin with just a twinge of evil planning sparking in his brilliant blue eyes.
He was truly and utterly screwed.
Lorne hurriedly landed the jumper with a blush gracing his face and practically raced out into the sunshine, leaving an amused doctor to follow, finally closing the tin cannister, tucking it under his arm for later enjoyment. The two grabbed the packs and began walking.
Nick led Carson through the small patch of woods that outlined the clearing he’d landed in and to a small, private beach front. Actually, the water was merely a medium sized swimming hole, but the land around it was nice and sandy. “Ready to go swimming, Doc? It’s very relaxing,” he said with a tempting lilt to his voice.
Carson laughed, “Of course. Let me just change.” He knelt to dig around in the pack Rodney had made for him.
Nick changed into his own swim trunks and sat at the edge of the water, dipping his feet into the cool water, enjoying the feel of the liquid against his tired skin. He leaned back against his hands, bracing himself. “Come on, Doc, how long does it take to change?” Lorne called out after a good five minutes.
“Um, I don’t think,” he cut off and more rummaging could be heard, “I don’t believe the good Doctor McKay thought to throw my trunks in here.”
“Oh. Well,” Lorne was inwardly pleased but knew that this was probably not the most comfortable way to get things started romantically.
“I suppose I could just dip my feet in,” Carson sounded disappointed.
“Well, hey, what about just skinny dipping?” He tipped his head back to view Carson’s disbelieving look.
“I believe ‘skinny’ is the operative word, there.”
“Nah, you’re perfect,” Lorne blushed again. “I mean, it’s alright, we’ll go together,” and suddenly his mind supplied dirty pictures of ‘going’, with Carson fitting perfectly in his arms and both of them panting.
Oh, why wouldn’t his head stop thinking? Perhaps if he beat it into submission–no. No, that would be bad.
He shook his head to clear the thoughts and watched Carson tentatively shed his clothes. He pushed himself up and in one swoop pulled his trunks down, standing in all his naked glory. Beckett raised an eyebrow, but nonetheless continued to strip. “Come on, Doc.”
“Carson,” Beckett corrected, removing the last piece of clothing, “If I call you Nick, you call me Carson.”
Lorne smiled widely and gestured to the water, “Come on, Carson, let’s swim.”
And they entered the water together, watching the sun set on the lake while nibbling on cookies, and, after a while, each other. They knew that the end of this day was only the beginning of shared shortbread and kisses.
Feedback is appreciated... *drools for feedback*
Their request:
Pairing: any
What I want to see in my story: skinny dipping, someone brings Carson homemade shortbread
What I do not want to see in my story: violence of any sort, angst, hurt/comfort
Warnings: Fluff!
Pairing: Surprise!!!
Title:
'Skinny' Being the Operative Word
The man hurried down the hall, sticking close to the walls, eyes looking for any signs of danger. The important package was clutched in his left hand, his right ready to fight off the ravenous wolves that would want its contents. He finally reached his destination and let out a sigh of relief. They wouldn’t hurt him to get the package in here–they took an oath.
“Major, what can I do for ye?” The heavily accented voice threw him for a loop and he jumped before turning, embarrassed, to face the voice’s owner.
“Hey, Doc. How are you?”
Carson narrowed his eyes at the question but said, “I’m just fine. How are you feeling?”
“Perfect!” Before the Scot could ask what he was doing in the infirmary then, Lorne mumbled, “Can we talk in your office?”
Carson hurriedly agreed, obviously concerned for the military man. The Scot shut the door behind the American, motioning for him to take a seat, “Now, what can I do for ye, Major? Something on your mind?”
“Just you. And it’s Nick.” Lorne blurted before he could stop himself.
Beckett looked up from his desk in surprise, eyes wide.
Lorne cleared his throat, “Um. So, you seem busy.” He cringed.
Carson narrowed his eyes in confusion but nodded, “Yes. This is the infirmary, Maj- Nick. It does tend to be a wee bit busy. So what can I do for you?”
“Well, actually, Dr. Weir,” and there he paused. Damn. He was blaming this on someone else already when he knew for a fact that it was completely and utterly his fault. “Uh, Dr. Weir and I were just noticing that you seem very busy lately, and you hardly have any vacation. Well, NO vacation actually.”
He paused again and glanced at the doctor, trying to gauge his reaction but all he got was a raised eyebrow and a very confused look. “You see, we just thought that you could use a few days to relax and, you know... un..wind...” He trailed off as he watched Beckett’s face begin to light in the brightest smile he’d ever seen the Scot give–one that the others told him they’d not seen on the doctor’s face since Perna. He cleared his throat again and smiled, “I, uh, brought you something. My grandmother made them.” ‘Just for you,’ he finished in his head as he handed Carson the tin cannister, but he would be damned if he explained how he’d confessed everything to Nana Lorne and she’d immediately deemed the good doctor the ‘perfect man’.
“What is it?” Carson asked unnecessarily as he practically ripped the tin cover off.
“They’re shortbread cookies. My grandmother is an amazing cook.”
Beckett grinned as he almost inhaled a cookie.
“Careful there, doc, you don’t want to choke. Are you ready to go?”
Carson swallowed the mouthful of shortbread and frowned, “Where are we going? Shouldn’t I pack?”
Lorne grinned, “Nah, we conned McKay to throw some of your stuff in a pack. Everything’s ready!” He neglected to mention that his stash of chocolate was now down by a quarter, but, really, what did it matter if his super-duper-evil-genius-plan worked out anyway?
Well, evil? Nah, probably not so much. The genius was also debatable.
The good doctor followed him out of the infirmary, pausing only a half dozen times to put up protest against leaving his patients. His nurses only gently pushed him away, snagging a cookie from the still open cannister Beckett was munching from. Finally, through pushing and pulling (and Lorne tried not to think about how much he desperately wanted to do the dirty things that phrase conjured up), the major and the doctor ended up in ‘jumper 4 headed to the mainland.
Every once in a while Lorne glanced at the doctor, who was still randomly grabbing cookies while looking out the window. When the long (to Lorne) journey was nearing its end, Nick cleared his throat and mumbled something low in his throat.
Beckett twisted to face him, mouth still full of shortbread cookie, “Wha-?”
Lorne almost giggled like a school girl but stifled it at the last moment. Carson was just too adorable. “I said we’re here. I hope you like it.”
Beckett smiled broadly, the cookie already devoured and safely tucked away in his digestive tract. “I’m sure I’ll enjoy whatever you have in store for me.” And the way he said it, the sly way with a hint of underlying meaning, made Nick’s heart melt and his jaw go slack. Did Beckett feel the same way?
The major let out a squeaky ‘Heh’ that made him want to yell at himself that he HAD hit puberty. He was an adult. He was an Air Force major. He was...
He glanced again at the doctor who was now giving him a dimpled grin with just a twinge of evil planning sparking in his brilliant blue eyes.
He was truly and utterly screwed.
Lorne hurriedly landed the jumper with a blush gracing his face and practically raced out into the sunshine, leaving an amused doctor to follow, finally closing the tin cannister, tucking it under his arm for later enjoyment. The two grabbed the packs and began walking.
Nick led Carson through the small patch of woods that outlined the clearing he’d landed in and to a small, private beach front. Actually, the water was merely a medium sized swimming hole, but the land around it was nice and sandy. “Ready to go swimming, Doc? It’s very relaxing,” he said with a tempting lilt to his voice.
Carson laughed, “Of course. Let me just change.” He knelt to dig around in the pack Rodney had made for him.
Nick changed into his own swim trunks and sat at the edge of the water, dipping his feet into the cool water, enjoying the feel of the liquid against his tired skin. He leaned back against his hands, bracing himself. “Come on, Doc, how long does it take to change?” Lorne called out after a good five minutes.
“Um, I don’t think,” he cut off and more rummaging could be heard, “I don’t believe the good Doctor McKay thought to throw my trunks in here.”
“Oh. Well,” Lorne was inwardly pleased but knew that this was probably not the most comfortable way to get things started romantically.
“I suppose I could just dip my feet in,” Carson sounded disappointed.
“Well, hey, what about just skinny dipping?” He tipped his head back to view Carson’s disbelieving look.
“I believe ‘skinny’ is the operative word, there.”
“Nah, you’re perfect,” Lorne blushed again. “I mean, it’s alright, we’ll go together,” and suddenly his mind supplied dirty pictures of ‘going’, with Carson fitting perfectly in his arms and both of them panting.
Oh, why wouldn’t his head stop thinking? Perhaps if he beat it into submission–no. No, that would be bad.
He shook his head to clear the thoughts and watched Carson tentatively shed his clothes. He pushed himself up and in one swoop pulled his trunks down, standing in all his naked glory. Beckett raised an eyebrow, but nonetheless continued to strip. “Come on, Doc.”
“Carson,” Beckett corrected, removing the last piece of clothing, “If I call you Nick, you call me Carson.”
Lorne smiled widely and gestured to the water, “Come on, Carson, let’s swim.”
And they entered the water together, watching the sun set on the lake while nibbling on cookies, and, after a while, each other. They knew that the end of this day was only the beginning of shared shortbread and kisses.
Feedback is appreciated... *drools for feedback*
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no subject
Date: 2006-09-30 01:45 pm (UTC)THose two guys are adorable!!!!!!!!
And swimming....wet skin...shortbread cookies...sorry, the brain melted right there!!
no subject
Date: 2006-09-30 07:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-30 08:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-30 07:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-30 07:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-30 07:54 pm (UTC)Will there be more Nick/Carson? Please? *Offers cookies.*
no subject
Date: 2006-09-30 08:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-30 08:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-30 08:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-30 08:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-30 08:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-01 05:21 pm (UTC)1. Col. Sheppard volunteering Carson's servies again with Lorne's team to act as escort.
2. Misunderstandings, big or small, doesn't matter.
3. Hot Chocolate.
4.Preferably from Carson's perspective, but not required.
There. Not the most original, but the best I could come up with on short notice and little sleep. Do with it what you will. :)
no subject
Date: 2006-10-01 03:17 am (UTC)[and i prefer "nick" too :-)]