![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deelaundryposted to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
housefic, gate_house, and sick_wilson
Title: Five Times James Wilson Was Sick Freshman Year (And a Couple of Times He Wasn’t), Part 3 of 6
Author: Dee Laundry
Pairing: Wilson/OFC (other parts), Wilson/Other Male Character (later parts)
Rating: R
Words: 1672
Notes: Includes crossover character from Stargate Atlantis. Set in late 1980s (as was my US college experience). Many, many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mer_duff and topaz_eyes for providing Canadian expertise, and daisylily for beta. Warning for teen drinking, if that kind of thing disturbs you. Written as a Secret Santa present for samaurai_pyoko.
Part One -Part Two
iii. Influenza
The sheets in Mike Roy’s aunt’s guest room were musty, and the pillow was way too thin, but at least it was quiet. Far quieter than the residence hall, and that helped James’ head. The pills – and especially the reminders from “Aunty Barbara” to take them regularly – kept his coughing, fever and aches at bay, too, and Student Health Services had taken pity on him and made one of those pills an anti-nausea drug.
His mother had over-nighted him a care package with warm socks, a puzzle book, ginger ale, and his favorite snacks, and called him once a day for five minutes only. Different friends were stopping by a few times a day; not so much that he lost out on key sleeping time, but enough to let him know he was missed and keep him from getting bored.
The flu was no walk in the park, but he was getting better now – he’d be going back to campus tomorrow – and he really couldn’t complain.
Except for Fred. He definitely could complain about Fred, and he would complain about Fred, just as soon as someone showed up to rescue him from the droning bore.
It’d been ten minutes by the clock on the nightstand since Fred had arrived, but James was pretty sure that clock was broken because it felt like an hour and a half. Fred had been talking the whole time, about absolutely nothing, and he would not stop.
Would. Not. Stop.
James had a sudden but hazy flash of memory: some other time when all he wanted was for Fred to stop talking. Tile cool to the touch and a gross acidic smell and – he couldn’t remember anything else. Some hung-over morning, no doubt, with Fred in his most pious lecture mode. God, so annoying, and the worst part, the absolute worst, was Fred’s unshakable conviction that it was all in James’ best interest.
Ugh.
He started blinking for longer and longer periods, preparing to pretend that he was asleep, when the words he’d never thought he’d hear slipped out of Fred’s mouth.
“I thought I’d let you know that I’m moving out,” Fred said.
“Really?” James replied, and then tried to force the glee out of his voice. “Are you sure?”
Fred sat up straighter in the wooden chair and turned his head away, but not before James caught an expression on his face that was – sheepish? Apologetic? Fred never looked either of those ways; something was up.
“My mother insisted,” Fred said. “She was very nervous for my health last month when you brought in the room those… bug-things. I had to buy entirely new sheets!”
Gritting his teeth, James closed his eyes. “I told you that you didn’t have to. I only had them for a little while, I never went near your sheets, and there’s no way the lice would have crawled all the way over to your bed.”
“And now,” Fred continued as if James hadn’t said anything, “you have this kissing disease –”
“It’s flu, not mono,” James retorted in exasperation. “And I got it because David Garneau thought it would be hilarious to spit in my lunch and let me eat it, the dumb bastard.”
“The foul mouth doesn’t help, either.” James wanted to punch him, so hard, right in his stupid perfectly white, perfectly straightened teeth. “But really it’s the contagious diseases. I’m sensitive to contagion of all kinds, and I simply can’t share a room with you any more. They’ve found me another place with a more suitable roommate.”
“When are you going?”
“Actually,” Fred said, clearing his throat, “I moved today.”
He’d always found Fred dull and annoying, never liked having him as a roommate. They weren’t friends, and James couldn’t see any circumstances under which they would be friends or even voluntarily spend time together. Fred wasn’t evil, but he was not someone James would ever like.
It still stung.
“Well, see you around,” James said in dismissal, turning his head away and closing his eyes. He hoped he looked like he was falling asleep instead of sulking.
Whatever way it looked, Fred did haul himself up, the chair legs scratching along the floor, and left.
As soon as Fred was gone, James took another Tylenol to help with the pain around his lungs, and closed his eyes again. Eventually he fell asleep.
The next day he went back to campus after breakfast for his appointment at Health Services. He was still kind of tired, still a little achy, but well enough to go home. Not home. To his room. All by himself. Mike had practice tonight, and David was still on his hit list, but maybe he could talk Rob or Sam into coming over to watch Magnum and then St. Elsewhere tonight.
He was still thinking about it – if not Rob and Sam, then maybe Anne and her roommate Marie would come – when he walked into his not-as-empty-as-expected room.
“What are you doing in here?” he asked grumpily of the kid in the ugly fleece hunched over his – James’ – desk, one arm curled around a thick textbook and the other stretched in the direction of the largest coffee mug James had ever seen.
“Studying, shhh,” was the muffled reply.
James dropped onto his bed, energy depleted from the long walk in the cold air, and replied, “That’s my desk, not a library carrel, so please get out. I’m tired, and I’m going to take a nap.”
The guy’s head popped up abruptly – prairie dog, James thought – and he swiveled around. “You’ve been lying on your back dozing on-and-off for God-knows-how-many days; how can you say you’re – Wait a minute.” He turned back toward the desk and patted the surface all around his textbook. “This is your desk? I’d heard you were reasonably intelligent, a good lab partner – the whole ‘aiming for a medical degree’ thing is totally the wrong path (voodoo if I’ve ever heard of it) but there’s still time to turn you around from that – so one has to take it as given that you study at some point, but this piece of furniture was absolutely pristine when I walked in and how in the world, I thought, could you work with nothing around you, so you can see my confusion and how eminently reasonable it was to assume that this desk was open for the taking.”
James blinked. “I put my things away in the drawers when I’m done with them.”
The guy blinked, and then yanked two of the drawers open. “Oh,” he said, “I see. Here are your pens, and some index cards, and oh my God, you actually have typed file folders – what kind of dork are you? And here’s a drawing compass; that brings back memories from when I was, let’s see, eight; why would you need a compass in univer– OW!” Snatching his hand from the drawer, he shook it out and then pressed his other thumb to the palm, glaring at James. “That’s sharp; that’s a deadly weapon, that is. You’re going to have to get it out of our desk immediately.”
James glared back. “It’s my desk, in my room, and you’re the one who needs to get out immediately.”
The guy crossed his arms, palm apparently forgotten, and set his chin at a mulish angle. “Well, I’m not taking that little tiny desk in that dark corner over there; my work is far too important for that. I need adequate reading light and adequate space and a comfortable chair, so if you’re not going to share this desk, you at least have to move your bed so I can move that godawful desk under the window. You can sleep in a gloomy, shadowed nook but I can’t adequately nourish my brain there.”
“This is my room!” James protested. “Who the hell are you?”
The kid’s chin rose an inch, and his nose seemed to rise even more. “I’m Rodney McKay, Alven Scholar and Ph.D.-track for astrophysics. I’ll probably pick up a second doctorate in there somewhere, but I haven’t decided yet what area would really stretch me the most.”
Sinking back into his pillow, James sighed and closed his eyes. Maybe he’d never left Aunty Barbara’s and this was a fever dream. It had that unreal quality to it.
“Oh!” the kid – Rodney – said. “And I’m your new roommate. Try not to breathe near my stuff; getting sick would really put a cramp in my work style, and there’s just so much to be done.”
“I’m not contagious any more,” James replied, and curled up on his side.
“That’s what Health Services told you, no doubt, but better to be safe than sorry. Here.”
James flinched as a bag of something heavy hit him in the ribs. “Ow,” he protested.
“Yeah, sorry,” Rodney said distractedly. “Orange juice, supposedly great for your immune system, although I wouldn’t know; I’m deathly allergic. You should drink up, though, and finish it off. For your own health, and because I can’t have it in the fridge. Too much of a danger of me accidentally grabbing it in the morning before I’ve had my coffee, and if I drink it, well, I shudder to think of the consequences. Not just for me, but for the whole field of astrophysics. I’m the Alven Scholar – I told you that, right? – and I’d hate for them to lose one of their brightest lights for the future.”
Propped up on an elbow, sipping the orange juice, James looked over his new roommate. The fleece was still ugly, but there was a type of zest in the guy’s eyes that James hadn’t seen in forever. Kind of reminded him of – nope, not going there, James thought. “Are you for real, Alven McKay?”
“It’s Rodney,” Rodney said, turning back to his textbook, “and I’m as real as anything can be said to be real under our current understanding of the laws of the universe.”
“Just checking,” James replied, and laid back down for a nap.
Part Four
housefic, gate_house, and sick_wilsonTitle: Five Times James Wilson Was Sick Freshman Year (And a Couple of Times He Wasn’t), Part 3 of 6
Author: Dee Laundry
Pairing: Wilson/OFC (other parts), Wilson/Other Male Character (later parts)
Rating: R
Words: 1672
Notes: Includes crossover character from Stargate Atlantis. Set in late 1980s (as was my US college experience). Many, many thanks to
mer_duff and topaz_eyes for providing Canadian expertise, and daisylily for beta. Warning for teen drinking, if that kind of thing disturbs you. Written as a Secret Santa present for samaurai_pyoko.Part One -Part Two
iii. Influenza
The sheets in Mike Roy’s aunt’s guest room were musty, and the pillow was way too thin, but at least it was quiet. Far quieter than the residence hall, and that helped James’ head. The pills – and especially the reminders from “Aunty Barbara” to take them regularly – kept his coughing, fever and aches at bay, too, and Student Health Services had taken pity on him and made one of those pills an anti-nausea drug.
His mother had over-nighted him a care package with warm socks, a puzzle book, ginger ale, and his favorite snacks, and called him once a day for five minutes only. Different friends were stopping by a few times a day; not so much that he lost out on key sleeping time, but enough to let him know he was missed and keep him from getting bored.
The flu was no walk in the park, but he was getting better now – he’d be going back to campus tomorrow – and he really couldn’t complain.
Except for Fred. He definitely could complain about Fred, and he would complain about Fred, just as soon as someone showed up to rescue him from the droning bore.
It’d been ten minutes by the clock on the nightstand since Fred had arrived, but James was pretty sure that clock was broken because it felt like an hour and a half. Fred had been talking the whole time, about absolutely nothing, and he would not stop.
Would. Not. Stop.
James had a sudden but hazy flash of memory: some other time when all he wanted was for Fred to stop talking. Tile cool to the touch and a gross acidic smell and – he couldn’t remember anything else. Some hung-over morning, no doubt, with Fred in his most pious lecture mode. God, so annoying, and the worst part, the absolute worst, was Fred’s unshakable conviction that it was all in James’ best interest.
Ugh.
He started blinking for longer and longer periods, preparing to pretend that he was asleep, when the words he’d never thought he’d hear slipped out of Fred’s mouth.
“I thought I’d let you know that I’m moving out,” Fred said.
“Really?” James replied, and then tried to force the glee out of his voice. “Are you sure?”
Fred sat up straighter in the wooden chair and turned his head away, but not before James caught an expression on his face that was – sheepish? Apologetic? Fred never looked either of those ways; something was up.
“My mother insisted,” Fred said. “She was very nervous for my health last month when you brought in the room those… bug-things. I had to buy entirely new sheets!”
Gritting his teeth, James closed his eyes. “I told you that you didn’t have to. I only had them for a little while, I never went near your sheets, and there’s no way the lice would have crawled all the way over to your bed.”
“And now,” Fred continued as if James hadn’t said anything, “you have this kissing disease –”
“It’s flu, not mono,” James retorted in exasperation. “And I got it because David Garneau thought it would be hilarious to spit in my lunch and let me eat it, the dumb bastard.”
“The foul mouth doesn’t help, either.” James wanted to punch him, so hard, right in his stupid perfectly white, perfectly straightened teeth. “But really it’s the contagious diseases. I’m sensitive to contagion of all kinds, and I simply can’t share a room with you any more. They’ve found me another place with a more suitable roommate.”
“When are you going?”
“Actually,” Fred said, clearing his throat, “I moved today.”
He’d always found Fred dull and annoying, never liked having him as a roommate. They weren’t friends, and James couldn’t see any circumstances under which they would be friends or even voluntarily spend time together. Fred wasn’t evil, but he was not someone James would ever like.
It still stung.
“Well, see you around,” James said in dismissal, turning his head away and closing his eyes. He hoped he looked like he was falling asleep instead of sulking.
Whatever way it looked, Fred did haul himself up, the chair legs scratching along the floor, and left.
As soon as Fred was gone, James took another Tylenol to help with the pain around his lungs, and closed his eyes again. Eventually he fell asleep.
The next day he went back to campus after breakfast for his appointment at Health Services. He was still kind of tired, still a little achy, but well enough to go home. Not home. To his room. All by himself. Mike had practice tonight, and David was still on his hit list, but maybe he could talk Rob or Sam into coming over to watch Magnum and then St. Elsewhere tonight.
He was still thinking about it – if not Rob and Sam, then maybe Anne and her roommate Marie would come – when he walked into his not-as-empty-as-expected room.
“What are you doing in here?” he asked grumpily of the kid in the ugly fleece hunched over his – James’ – desk, one arm curled around a thick textbook and the other stretched in the direction of the largest coffee mug James had ever seen.
“Studying, shhh,” was the muffled reply.
James dropped onto his bed, energy depleted from the long walk in the cold air, and replied, “That’s my desk, not a library carrel, so please get out. I’m tired, and I’m going to take a nap.”
The guy’s head popped up abruptly – prairie dog, James thought – and he swiveled around. “You’ve been lying on your back dozing on-and-off for God-knows-how-many days; how can you say you’re – Wait a minute.” He turned back toward the desk and patted the surface all around his textbook. “This is your desk? I’d heard you were reasonably intelligent, a good lab partner – the whole ‘aiming for a medical degree’ thing is totally the wrong path (voodoo if I’ve ever heard of it) but there’s still time to turn you around from that – so one has to take it as given that you study at some point, but this piece of furniture was absolutely pristine when I walked in and how in the world, I thought, could you work with nothing around you, so you can see my confusion and how eminently reasonable it was to assume that this desk was open for the taking.”
James blinked. “I put my things away in the drawers when I’m done with them.”
The guy blinked, and then yanked two of the drawers open. “Oh,” he said, “I see. Here are your pens, and some index cards, and oh my God, you actually have typed file folders – what kind of dork are you? And here’s a drawing compass; that brings back memories from when I was, let’s see, eight; why would you need a compass in univer– OW!” Snatching his hand from the drawer, he shook it out and then pressed his other thumb to the palm, glaring at James. “That’s sharp; that’s a deadly weapon, that is. You’re going to have to get it out of our desk immediately.”
James glared back. “It’s my desk, in my room, and you’re the one who needs to get out immediately.”
The guy crossed his arms, palm apparently forgotten, and set his chin at a mulish angle. “Well, I’m not taking that little tiny desk in that dark corner over there; my work is far too important for that. I need adequate reading light and adequate space and a comfortable chair, so if you’re not going to share this desk, you at least have to move your bed so I can move that godawful desk under the window. You can sleep in a gloomy, shadowed nook but I can’t adequately nourish my brain there.”
“This is my room!” James protested. “Who the hell are you?”
The kid’s chin rose an inch, and his nose seemed to rise even more. “I’m Rodney McKay, Alven Scholar and Ph.D.-track for astrophysics. I’ll probably pick up a second doctorate in there somewhere, but I haven’t decided yet what area would really stretch me the most.”
Sinking back into his pillow, James sighed and closed his eyes. Maybe he’d never left Aunty Barbara’s and this was a fever dream. It had that unreal quality to it.
“Oh!” the kid – Rodney – said. “And I’m your new roommate. Try not to breathe near my stuff; getting sick would really put a cramp in my work style, and there’s just so much to be done.”
“I’m not contagious any more,” James replied, and curled up on his side.
“That’s what Health Services told you, no doubt, but better to be safe than sorry. Here.”
James flinched as a bag of something heavy hit him in the ribs. “Ow,” he protested.
“Yeah, sorry,” Rodney said distractedly. “Orange juice, supposedly great for your immune system, although I wouldn’t know; I’m deathly allergic. You should drink up, though, and finish it off. For your own health, and because I can’t have it in the fridge. Too much of a danger of me accidentally grabbing it in the morning before I’ve had my coffee, and if I drink it, well, I shudder to think of the consequences. Not just for me, but for the whole field of astrophysics. I’m the Alven Scholar – I told you that, right? – and I’d hate for them to lose one of their brightest lights for the future.”
Propped up on an elbow, sipping the orange juice, James looked over his new roommate. The fleece was still ugly, but there was a type of zest in the guy’s eyes that James hadn’t seen in forever. Kind of reminded him of – nope, not going there, James thought. “Are you for real, Alven McKay?”
“It’s Rodney,” Rodney said, turning back to his textbook, “and I’m as real as anything can be said to be real under our current understanding of the laws of the universe.”
“Just checking,” James replied, and laid back down for a nap.
Part Four
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-16 09:35 pm (UTC)Poor Wilson! I love Stargate Atlantis and that guy annoys me *sooo much* so I can only imagine how he'll irritate Wilson!
This made me so happy! haha
Can't wait for more!
:)
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-17 02:21 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-16 10:18 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-17 02:22 am (UTC)Thanks!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-16 11:29 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-17 02:22 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-17 01:25 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-17 02:24 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-18 05:33 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-18 04:14 pm (UTC)A woman at work said she's going to the Pats game this weekend. *is gelus* She was complaining about how cold it's going to be. Foolish woman!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-18 05:55 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-22 04:59 pm (UTC)Wilson's new roommate is a bit full of himself, isn't he? But at least he got ridden of Fred.
:)