Written waaaay back in October 2009 for LFWS, my first forays into the fandom. The prompt was for H/C, an acitivity of a daily routine to be the cause of whump.


A Little Stitious

Rodney walked into the infirmary clutching his right hand in his white-knuckled left, amidst a muttered mantra of "Ow, ow, ow."

Jennifer rose quickly from her desk and hurried to him, instinct and training causing her to reach for his hand. "Rodney, what happened?"

Rodney was hesitant to release his hold and grimaced when Jennifer finally smacked his uninjured hand away, revealing a thin line of blood across the tip of his index finger.

"Oh, oh, paper cut. Paper cut." Rodney hissed as Jennifer squeezed his finger.

She couldn't help the playful quirk of her lips. "Oh, Rodney. I've seen worse. You've had worse."

"It stings."

"It's a scratch."

"It's a scratch that stings," Rodney huffed. "Stupid paper reports. This is exactly why everything should be done by computer."

Jennifer smiled and let go of his hand. "I'll get you a Band-Aid."

Rodney resumed clutching his fingertip as though he was in immediate danger of bleeding to death, sinking to the edge of an exam table. Jennifer left him to his whimpering to retrieve a bandage from the cabinet. As she turned, she was startled by the sudden appearance of Ronon and Colonel Sheppard on the infirmary threshold, the Colonel with a gym towel pressed to his hairline and Ronon with a guilty, if not smug, expression.

These two take way too much pleasure in beating the crap out of each other. Jennifer's shoulders fell. "Not again."

Colonel Sheppard offered her a small smile, partially obscured by the towel. "Zigged," he said with a shrug.

Jennifer raised her eyebrows at Ronon, who didn't even attempt to disguise his grin. "Shouldn't zagged."

She sighed and pointed to the table upon which Rodney was perched. Rodney looked up, mouth open in protest, and raised his hand. "I'm bleeding here."

Colonel Sheppard rolled his eyes and pulled the towel away from his face with a grimace. The material pulled at the edges of the wound and the sight caused Jennifer to gape at Ronon, and Rodney to recoil in disgust.

"Ugh. Always have to one-up me, don't you?" Rodney stood and Jennifer guided the Colonel to the vacated spot, a feeling of déjà vu washing over her.

"You know," she said, grabbing a pair of latex gloves, "I can't help feeling as though we've done this before." She tried to fix the guys with an admonishing glare but failed horribly.

A baby's wail drew Jennifer's attention away from examining Colonel Sheppard's head – Stitches, AGAIN – and back to the doorway. There Teyla stood, attempting to soothe a near-hysterical Torren.

Ronon was at her side in two steps, placing a large hand on the infant's head and glaring at Rodney, who shrank under the look. "What're you looking at me, for? I've been right here."

Teyla gently shushed the baby. "We were playing in my quarters and he bumped his head."

Jennifer took in the room, eyes moving from Teyla and the crying baby to Colonel Sheppard and his bleeding head to Rodney and his paper cut. "Geez, did somebody break a mirror or something?"

Teyla frowned. "I do not believe so. Why?"

"Well, because…" Jennifer glanced at Rodney and Colonel Sheppard, but it didn't look as though either one was going to be any help. Quite the opposite, in fact; they seemed to be enjoying watching her squirm. "It's just, bad luck," she explained lamely.

Teyla frowned, rocking Torren back and forth. "I do not understand."

For his part, Ronon shrugged. Rodney leaned back against an empty examination table and interlaced his fingers, eyebrows raised. He seemed to think she deserved a little punishment for making light of his paper cut, now forgotten in her impromptu embarrassment.

Colonel Sheppard finally threw her a life preserver. "It's a silly superstition on Earth." He gestured at the still-wailing Torren. "Can we take care of the crying baby now, please?"

"Yes. Let me just get you – " Jennifer was going for some clean gauze to swap out with the Colonel's soiled towel when her foot slipped out from under her. She hit the floor, leaving, from the feel of it, an impressive bruise on her tailbone.

The men valiantly jumped to her assistance as Teyla cocked an eyebrow. "A mirror?"

Jennifer huffed as Ronon hauled her back to her feet. Surprisingly, Torren stopped crying. He hiccupped and giggled, leaning into his mother.

"Well," Jennifer said, brushing off her rear end with a wince, face flushed. "I'm glad somebody's amused."