Title: Fluff and Fold
Author:![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
kristen999
Rating: PG
Categories: Fun/Humor
Characters: Sheppard, Rodney
Summary: John should use dry cleaning.
Word count: 740
Disclaimer: None of them belong to me. No profit intended.
Written forgreyias. Prompt at the end.
Not betaed.
-----------------
John pulled out a wad of black BDUs annoyed. “I thought you said adding that powder would get rid of most of the wrinkles?”
“I doubt you used the correct temperature...the dryers do have controls you know,” Rodney huffed. “Besides, all our supplies are the results of the lowest bidder. Keep that in mind.”
“I traded you espresso so I'd spend less time ironing.”
“You military guys live to steam things and make stuff perfect. I can bounce coins off your bed.”
“What were you doing near my bed?”
“Is this all you wear, Sheppard? Do you employ child labor on some planet to sew together the same two articles of clothing?”
John stared down at the stack of black tees and military tops, studying the piles around him. “It's procedure to wear a uniform....Plus my pants make three items.”
“It's also very reflective of a person.”
“Like bad 80's T-shirts, wild colors and patterns with kiwi fruit?”
“All happy and bright signs of my personality.”
“Or one that hasn't realized it's two decades later.”
Rodney pushed John out of the way, sticking his hand inside his dryer and wasn't that crossing the line somehow? “McKay,” he growled.
“Yep, thought so. Your entire wardrobe is paid for by the Air Force.”
“My choice in clothes are cooler, hence the reason why you went from wearin' blue to black,” John said, shoving him back.
“Going on missions with you is a dirty business, darker colors hide all the stains.”
“And I also have.....” John dug inside the forty gallon container...“Aha!” He grinned holding out a polo.
“Oh, yes. How could I forget your golf shirt. The one that goes with your one pair of khakis. The pants of style and finesse, filing ranks with the retail army of the world.”
John peered inside the dark drum, biting his bottom lip, but there wasn't really anything else. His boxers were not a topic for discussion.
“Don't you go on dates?” Rodney asked.
“I don't have time—-” He hated it when Rodney cackled. John counted to three before searching for his socks. When the hysterics were over, he glared. “You done?”
“Yes, I forgot. All your women are aliens, the only thing you need is your uniform.”
“Not for very long,” John smiled as he snatched sock number seven, knowing he'd never find eight. “In all seriousness, it really hasn't been that many.”
“Riiiiight.”
“You know the rules, no fraternization---”
“Yeah, yeah. You're too noble to go after those under your command, but then again...was it nurse Heather that put your scrubs on 'backwards' that one day?”
“Ow!” John yelped, banging his head inside the metal dryer in search of his elusive last pair. “Why is it every time I do laundry. I lose a freakin' sock!”
“Avoiding the question.”
“The medical staff isn't under my pervue,” John replied, his eyes going wide at Rodney. “Are you smelling your clothes?”
“No, I wasn't...I was...um...see how soft this is.”
Did he really want to feel up Rodney's undershirts? John looked around and fingered the downy, cotton. “Nice, how did you--”
“Teyla gave me some type of Athosian oil for the wash part.”
John rubbed his T-shirt, Teyla never gave him anything to soften his tops. “Clothes shouldn't be too comfortable,” he grumbled.
“Oh, so we should itch while out exploring new worlds?”
“I'm sure Ronon would say otherwise.”
“Yeah and Ronon wears animal skins and probably does his wash outside in the ocean.”
John paused. “Might be the reason they smell air dried,” he mumbled, checking the air vents.
“I'll let him know you sniff his stuff when he's not looking and....jeesh, Sheppard! What the Hell are you doing now?”
Thunk.
“Damn it!” John swore, banging his skull again. “Every week, I come here with pairs, Rodney. Pairs of socks!”
“That's your problem; always bring an extra.”
“An extra pair?”
“No, an extra sock. That way you leave even.”
John watched Rodney finish rolling his perfectly matched crew socks with a satisfied smirk and tossed them into his basket. “Have fun trying to appease the little gnomes. You should know better about leaving an offering.”
“I hate laundry day,” he mumbled, slamming the lid door closed.
-----------------
greyias wanted something with Sheppard and doing laundry. I'm bad at humor, but I hope this was light-hearted enough.
Author:
kristen999Rating: PG
Categories: Fun/Humor
Characters: Sheppard, Rodney
Summary: John should use dry cleaning.
Word count: 740
Disclaimer: None of them belong to me. No profit intended.
Written for
greyias. Prompt at the end.Not betaed.
-----------------
John pulled out a wad of black BDUs annoyed. “I thought you said adding that powder would get rid of most of the wrinkles?”
“I doubt you used the correct temperature...the dryers do have controls you know,” Rodney huffed. “Besides, all our supplies are the results of the lowest bidder. Keep that in mind.”
“I traded you espresso so I'd spend less time ironing.”
“You military guys live to steam things and make stuff perfect. I can bounce coins off your bed.”
“What were you doing near my bed?”
“Is this all you wear, Sheppard? Do you employ child labor on some planet to sew together the same two articles of clothing?”
John stared down at the stack of black tees and military tops, studying the piles around him. “It's procedure to wear a uniform....Plus my pants make three items.”
“It's also very reflective of a person.”
“Like bad 80's T-shirts, wild colors and patterns with kiwi fruit?”
“All happy and bright signs of my personality.”
“Or one that hasn't realized it's two decades later.”
Rodney pushed John out of the way, sticking his hand inside his dryer and wasn't that crossing the line somehow? “McKay,” he growled.
“Yep, thought so. Your entire wardrobe is paid for by the Air Force.”
“My choice in clothes are cooler, hence the reason why you went from wearin' blue to black,” John said, shoving him back.
“Going on missions with you is a dirty business, darker colors hide all the stains.”
“And I also have.....” John dug inside the forty gallon container...“Aha!” He grinned holding out a polo.
“Oh, yes. How could I forget your golf shirt. The one that goes with your one pair of khakis. The pants of style and finesse, filing ranks with the retail army of the world.”
John peered inside the dark drum, biting his bottom lip, but there wasn't really anything else. His boxers were not a topic for discussion.
“Don't you go on dates?” Rodney asked.
“I don't have time—-” He hated it when Rodney cackled. John counted to three before searching for his socks. When the hysterics were over, he glared. “You done?”
“Yes, I forgot. All your women are aliens, the only thing you need is your uniform.”
“Not for very long,” John smiled as he snatched sock number seven, knowing he'd never find eight. “In all seriousness, it really hasn't been that many.”
“Riiiiight.”
“You know the rules, no fraternization---”
“Yeah, yeah. You're too noble to go after those under your command, but then again...was it nurse Heather that put your scrubs on 'backwards' that one day?”
“Ow!” John yelped, banging his head inside the metal dryer in search of his elusive last pair. “Why is it every time I do laundry. I lose a freakin' sock!”
“Avoiding the question.”
“The medical staff isn't under my pervue,” John replied, his eyes going wide at Rodney. “Are you smelling your clothes?”
“No, I wasn't...I was...um...see how soft this is.”
Did he really want to feel up Rodney's undershirts? John looked around and fingered the downy, cotton. “Nice, how did you--”
“Teyla gave me some type of Athosian oil for the wash part.”
John rubbed his T-shirt, Teyla never gave him anything to soften his tops. “Clothes shouldn't be too comfortable,” he grumbled.
“Oh, so we should itch while out exploring new worlds?”
“I'm sure Ronon would say otherwise.”
“Yeah and Ronon wears animal skins and probably does his wash outside in the ocean.”
John paused. “Might be the reason they smell air dried,” he mumbled, checking the air vents.
“I'll let him know you sniff his stuff when he's not looking and....jeesh, Sheppard! What the Hell are you doing now?”
Thunk.
“Damn it!” John swore, banging his skull again. “Every week, I come here with pairs, Rodney. Pairs of socks!”
“That's your problem; always bring an extra.”
“An extra pair?”
“No, an extra sock. That way you leave even.”
John watched Rodney finish rolling his perfectly matched crew socks with a satisfied smirk and tossed them into his basket. “Have fun trying to appease the little gnomes. You should know better about leaving an offering.”
“I hate laundry day,” he mumbled, slamming the lid door closed.
-----------------
greyias wanted something with Sheppard and doing laundry. I'm bad at humor, but I hope this was light-hearted enough.29 comments | Leave a comment