SGA Fic: Small Miracles
May. 4th, 2008 11:40 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
annundrielMy ability to fit anything into 100 words is broken at the moment. I keep trying to drabble things, end up going over, and then can't bring myself to cut or change things. This one's 110.
Anyway, a couple of days ago![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ginnith asked for rain and a porch and got NCIS fic that didn't quite hit the prompt on the head. Every time I tried something, all the characters would stop me and say, "What porch where?" But then John and Rodney showed up and all was right with the world.
In my recent ventures into other fandoms/shows, I forgot a little how much I love these guys.
Small Miracles
“O’Neill wasn’t kidding when he said his cabin was remote, was he?” Rodney asks, joining John on the steps of the back porch.
“At least there’s wireless,” John says, nudging Rodney’s shoulder with his own as he settles onto the wooden steps.
“Thank god for small miracles.” He sighs, taking a deep breath of the cool evening air. It’s been raining since before they arrived, steady drops cleansing both air and earth alike.
Rodney hasn’t been a big fan of rain since the Storm, but sitting here, John tucked close against his side, watching the ripples and patterns created on the surface of O’Neill’s lake, he wouldn’t be anywhere else.
Anyway, a couple of days ago
ginnith asked for rain and a porch and got NCIS fic that didn't quite hit the prompt on the head. Every time I tried something, all the characters would stop me and say, "What porch where?" But then John and Rodney showed up and all was right with the world.In my recent ventures into other fandoms/shows, I forgot a little how much I love these guys.
Small Miracles
“O’Neill wasn’t kidding when he said his cabin was remote, was he?” Rodney asks, joining John on the steps of the back porch.
“At least there’s wireless,” John says, nudging Rodney’s shoulder with his own as he settles onto the wooden steps.
“Thank god for small miracles.” He sighs, taking a deep breath of the cool evening air. It’s been raining since before they arrived, steady drops cleansing both air and earth alike.
Rodney hasn’t been a big fan of rain since the Storm, but sitting here, John tucked close against his side, watching the ripples and patterns created on the surface of O’Neill’s lake, he wouldn’t be anywhere else.
