Summary: "It's a dragon," Rodney said stupidly, but instead of slapping him across the head for pointing out the obvious, all John could do was nod.
AN: For tipsywitch, who wanted Rodney, John, and a dragon.
Here There Be
The earth had been shaking all week on M39-379.
The indigenous Trych were getting a little nervous, and after it had been established that living near the edge of a tectonic plate could, in fact, be a bit disadvantageous when it bumped into another tectonic plate, everybody agreed it might be best to move their settlement elsewhere.
The only problem was the Holy Egg, said to be the legacy of the Legendary Beast, a creature with fire in its breath and scaly skin so thick no weapon could ever penetrate its colossal body. Leaving it behind would be an offence against every deity the Trych had ever heard of, a truly unthinkable act. Of course, the Holy Egg was hidden safely inside the Holy Cave, and no Trych was allowed to set foot inside this cavern.
Which was why Rodney was currently stumbling through the darkness looking for a dragon egg, cursing stupid, superstitious, small-brained natives with no sense of setting priorities, and why oh why had he even come along?
John rolled his eyes, wondering the exact same thing. Okay, so that whole relocation thing had kind of shot their plans for the weekend, and Rodney probably wanted to make sure that John didn't procrastinate – as if! – and they actually had some time left for hot, sticky sex before falling back into routine on Monday, but still. It wasn't like John had volunteered for this job; Elizabeth had done that for him. And yeah, he'd make sure to forget her next birthday in return.
Their flashlights just gave enough light for them not to miss the narrow alcove with the altar. It was surprisingly sparsely decorated, little more than a slab of stone with a smaller stone roughly the size of a hatbox resting on top of it. The egg, John assumed.
"Pack it up and let's go," he told Rodney, and that was the moment the earth shook again and the roof of the cave came down. John had enough time to see Rodney go down with a sharp cry as a large piece of rock smashed his knee, to see another lump of rock crack the shell of the egg, before something impacted with the side of his face, and the world tilted away.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed when he finally woke up. The right side of his face was wet with what he suspected was his own blood, his lungs burning from the dust that was still hanging thick in the air. The cave was silent, but the faint glow of a dying flashlight on the ground a few feet away illuminated the tunnel a little. Rodney's flashlight, since John had been relying on the small beam from his P-90.
"Rodney?" John sat up slowly, relieved when the movement brought no noticeable dizziness. No concussion, then. "Rodney," he repeated, but again there was no answer.
Damn.
After two minutes of stumbling around in the darkness, he found Rodney knocked out and half-buried under a pile of thankfully small stones. It took only five more minutes to dig him out, then John began to feel for injuries, eliciting a small groan from the unconscious man as he reached his left knee. It felt hot and swollen under his hand, but not broken. His prodding seemed to be painful enough to bring Rodney around, though.
"John?" A little bit of coughing and cursing and taking a few sips from their canteens, and they were good to go, or in Rodney's case, hobble. The tunnel behind them seemed pretty much closed up by rubble, but according to the natives, there were several other ways out. They just had to find one.
A small mewling sound coming out of the darkness had them spinning around, Rodney cursing as the movement jarred his knee. A shuffling, scratching noise followed, and moments later, the light from John's P-90 was reflected by greenish-golden scales as a small shape bounced towards them. John stared, open-mouthed.
"It's a dragon," Rodney said stupidly, but instead of slapping him across the head for pointing out the obvious, all John could do was nod. The creature that was heading for them was roughly the size of a cat, had four sturdy legs, and, well. It was a dragon.
Rodney inched closer to John when it became clear the dragon was making a beeline towards him, all the time mewling piteously.
"It looks hungry," he said, looking nervous.
"Well, then feed it," John gave back.
"Are you insane? I'm not feeding a dragon!"
"Look at the teeth, McKay," and indeed, they looked tiny but sharp, and Rodney fumbled for a powerbar, peeling it out of the tinfoil and throwing it at the dragon. The small creature caught it in a quick movement, hungrily swallowing it down, and mewling for more. Rodney heaved a put-upon sigh, but obeyed, feeding it another powerbar. The dragon barfed happily and let out a small, smoky puff of air. John was starting to feel slightly uneasy.
"Uh, Rodney… is it just me, or did it just grow a few inches?"
"What? Don't be ridiculous, that's not pos-" But another sooty barf interrupted Rodney, and the dragon was now the size of a Doberman. A calf. A small horse.
And still, it looked hungry.
Crap.
"I think it's time for a strategic retreat," John said slowly, cautiously taking a few steps backwards, pulling Rodney with him. The dragon blinked curiously, and tilted its head.
And pounced.
"Damn!" A short burst of John's P-90 sent the dragon slamming into a wall, an angry hiccup turning it into the size of a damn big horse. It tried to get onto its feet, and John fired another round, turning around and dragging Rodney with him as he ran. The scientist shambled along as fast as he could, his face tight with pain whenever he had to put his weight onto his damaged knee.
"Remind me… not to… listen to you… ever again," he panted, and John grimaced, pulling him around corners, trying to give him some resemblance of balance on the uneven, rock-strewn ground, and otherwise just running. A large formation of boulders loomed up before them where the tunnel had almost completely collapsed during the earthquake. There was enough space between rocks and ceiling for them, but the dragon would never fit through.
"Take the gun, I'll pull you up," John shouted over the noise of the approaching dragon, already slamming his P-90 against Rodney's chest, jumping onto the closest boulder.
"What? But-"
"Not now, McKay," and he was climbing, quickly making his way to the top of the boulders. Rodney shut up, awkwardly pulling himself up the lowest rocks to shorten the distance between them. John reached down as far as he could and grabbed Rodney's outstretched hand. It felt sweat-slippery in his, and right behind him, there was a deafening roar, a burst of flames against the far wall. The dragon was coming.
There was no way they were going to make this. Rodney couldn't climb properly, and John wasn't strong enough to support Rodney's weight and pull him up. John felt a strange calm settle down on him as he realised they were going to die here, then Rodney's hand began to twist in his grip, trying to pull away, and he looked down in offended surprise.
"What the-" The words died on his lips as Rodney stared up at him, eyes wide and afraid.
"Go," he said, in a voice that was fast and panicked and cracking on every other syllable, "just, just leave me here, no sense in us both dying, go," and something inside John broke. Rodney wasn't supposed to be noble and self-sacrificing, wasn't supposed to be the one who was left behind, and John would be damned if he let that happen.
Later, he couldn't have said where he took the strength to haul Rodney upwards, going against all laws of gravity and mass inertia and acceleration of unmoving objects – he just pulled. Rodney's feet scrambled against the rock as John dragged him up, up, away from the dragon that skidded the corner in a gigantic mass of iridescent scales and damn sharp teeth.
Hot, John thought stupidly as he and Rodney tumbled down the other side of the boulders, white-hot fire blasting its way through the gap above them, singeing the fine hairs on his arms. Then they hit the floor, hard, John going head first and only saved from serious injury by Rodney's belly.
"Ow!"
"Sorry." John staggered to his feet and held his hand out to Rodney, who graciously let himself be pulled up. "You okay?"
"No." Rodney almost looked offended. "But if you're asking if I'm worse than before, then I'll have to answer in the negative."
Another burst of flames sizzled its way through the air above them.
"You, uh, you think it can smash the rocks? Come after us?"
John briefly contemplated the pile of boulders, and the raging dragon behind it.
"Let's not stay to find out."
They discovered a way out of the damn cave and explained the lack of Holy Eggs to the Trych, who promptly declared them blasphemers. Fortunately, most of them were agnostics these days.
The rest of the relocation went smooth, even though Rodney had returned to Atlantis to have Beckett look at his knee. When John came home two days later – Sunday evening, go figure – it was to a long rant about torn tendons and light duty and voodoo practitioners who didn't know their meniscus from their cruciate ligament.
"Want me to kiss it and make it better?" John offered.
He ended up kissing a lot more than just Rodney's knee. He didn't really mind, though.
~~~
End.