energyfieldgood | IC Inbox for Apocalypse Now

Mmm?

[Yes. Yes, it is the goal here.

Rodney tugs at his wrists and John lets one go, but holds the other.]

Aw, just a few more minutes.

[He takes a deep breath, sighing.]

Your fear is amazing.

Yeah, you know, we're gonna have words about that later?

[Or not. Or they could never, ever, ever talk about John's face nuzzling his neck again. If Rodney doesn't end up with a severed carotid artery.

He slowly reaches up, placing his hand on Sheppard's head and trying to push him back.]

I'm sure we will.

[He's not entirely looking forward to that. But then Rodney tries to push him back and--

--oh.

Because that is an awful lot like a pet.

John pushes his head against his hand, rubbing against it, still purring.]

[It's like it can't get worse and then it does. Because now he has Sheppard rubbing against his hand and Rodney's brain is rapidly running out of computing power. Which is saying something, honestly, but it's really hard to deal with this sudden increase of-- of-- touching.

But at least John moves away from his neck, aka the more vulnerable parts of his body, following his hand like - right. Again, just like a cat. That's great.

Rodney stares at him, then gives his head an awkward pat.]

Who's a good... Entity-influenced mutating Colonel? You are. I guess you are.

[He pets him again, trying to get his second hand free and coaxing him over to the adjacent rooms. Maybe he can lock him in until he calms down...]

[And those are pats.

And he is purring, somehow, impossibly, even louder.

That feels amazing? That's almost as good as the fear. Maybe better. He can't quite decide which is better.

It's enough for him to let go of his other wrist, as he puts his hand against his chest, not realizing where Rodney was coaxing him to.

This is the best!]

[It's working? It's working, strange and unsettling and maybe-slightly-adorable-which-he-will-ignore as it is. Now his other hand is free which facilitates the steering and Rodney keeps petting, thinking of his own cat, moving his hand slightly to scratch behind John's ear (for self-preservation only) as he wrangles the purring man over to his bedroom.

He steps inside, just beyond the door frame so he can reach back and grab the key.

It's fine.]

You really are a cat, huh? Maybe we can get you to hunt mice instead of humans instead, at least until we find a solution...

[R o d n e y.

It only serves to work him up a bit more, he paws at his chest (thankfully retracting the claws just in time) and leans against his touch, against the scritches.

He has no idea where he even is at this point, not even realizing that Rodney has herded him over to his room.

It's fine.]

Mmm?

[Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, just keep the pets and fear coming.]

[Rodney winces when John goes for his chest, then exhales when he realizes the claws retracted in time. There's a lot of fear coming from him now because he has to muster up the strength to act. What if this goes wrong?

Okay. Here goes nothing.

He pets John one more time, gives one more scritch, then pushes him and jumps back, slamming the door shut and quickly turning the key.]

This is for your own good! And mine! Mostly mine!? But yours as well!

[This is nice. The scritches are nice, and--

--and suddenly Rodney pushes him back and he nearly falls backwards, catching himself just in time by hopping back, confused--

--just to see the door slam in his face.

And the sound of a key turning.

Wh...

...what?

You did not just do this to him!? John stares, confused, still utterly entranced by his instincts, and right now his instincts are pissed.]

Rodney!?

[It's almost a yell. Almost a yowl, really. He slams his fists against the door which...rattles quite a bit, unsettingly. He's stronger than he was before. There's the sound of scratching and what would probably be a hasty repair job later or perhaps a poster put up to disguise the fact that he just clawed gouges in his door.

He can't believe he did this! He can't believe he fell for this!]

Rodney, what the hell!?

[Oh, this is not good.

He kind of expected Sheppard to be pissed, really, but that really doesn't sound good.]

You're not in your right mind!

[That... is a lot of impact and the unmistakable sound of something sharp on wood. Rodney pales when the door shakes in its hinges and looks around, hurriedly pushing one of the armchairs up against the door. Maybe he should get the couch too, just in case...]

Look, just calm down and wait it out until... whatever is going on with you has settled!

[The door rattles, as he slams himself against it. More scratches, more gouging.

Luckily the armchair is holding.

Just barely.]

I'm fine!

There's nothing going on with me!

[He can still feel Rodney's fear spiking, but it's not the same without the petting. In fact, he almost doesn't want to feed off of it without the petting. Some of his yells sound an awful lot like yowls.]

Let me out!

[Just barely.

Rodney grabs a small shelf next, pushing it up next to the armchair and then sits on the armchair, trying to push it up against the door.]

Oh, come on! You were dragging claws all over my body! Along with your face!

[He winces at the next impact.]

You were purring against my neck!

[He tries again and again, the door slamming and rattling, but it's not budging.

Dammit.]

So what!?

[...there's a long pause, and the slams stop coming.

A very.

Long pause.

You know, when you put it like that--]

...that wasn't purring, that was just my stomach.

Oh yes, the famous human stomach right to the palatal, don't we all know it!

[Look, you're not getting out of this one, mister!]

I'm not letting you out until you calm down!

Yeah! Exactly! You're right!

[Please let him have this one.]

I am calm!

[And because that did not sound, at all, calm, he takes a deep breath and pauses.]

I mean...I'm calm, now.

Oh yeah?

[He's not moving away from the barricade. Staying right there on that chair, propped up against the door, crossing his arms.]

Prove it.

Prove it?!

[He sounds utterly insulted.

But, after a few moments, at least there’s no more door slams or anything that sounds like scratches.]

See? I’m calm! Happy now?

No.

[Crossing his arms tighter. He knows John can't see it but somehow it's there in his words. Along with his scowl.]

Are you still snacking off my fear?

[Somehow he can hear his literal body language. Huh.]

...no!

[Yes, a little. He probably should stop.]

...okay, I stopped.

Did you really?

[He looks down at himself as if there was a way for him to detect it. Maybe patting himself down somewhat.]

Because if I open this door and I catch you gobbling up my trauma...

Yes, I promise.

[He...sounds sincere, at least.]

...how would you even know?

IC Inbox for Apocalypse Now

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject