"Barbershop" (1/1)
Feb. 1st, 2008 01:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kristen999Title: “Barbershop”
Author: Kristen999
Rating: PG
Categories: Gen
Characters: Sheppard, OC
Summary: He wanted to say a little off the top, but that was so cheesy.
Word count: 670
Disclaimer: None of them belong to me. No profit intended.
Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rednz. Prompt at the end.
The last from my requested drabbles!
------------------------------------
John never liked stepping into a room where the tools of the trade were all sharp objects, but the Rolling Stones were blaring from a near by radio and he always liked “Paint It Black.”
Malcolm nudged the swivel chair with his foot. “Colonel, good to see ya."
John slid in, half expecting it to recline from his touch and frowned in disappointment when it didn't. It felt even odder as it rose higher, the barber pumping the metal pedal with his foot.
“You know, we could get you one with automatic hydraulics,” he told him.
“Don't need something fancy,” Malcolm snorted, quirking a bushy eyebrow. “I don't tell ya how to improve those jumpers.”
“No, Rodney does that enough.” John flinched when the apron was draped around his neck. Malcolm saw it in the reflection, but didn't comment, tying the sting loosely.
“Speaking of Dr. McKay, he was in here earlier.”
“Oh yeah.”
“Yep, brought his own shampoo even though I carry special brands just for him.”
“What, No More Tears?”
The corners of Malcolm's mouth curved as he pulled the bottle of baby conditioner out of the drawer. “How'd you guess?”
John laughed. “Did he complain about taking too much off again?”
“Not to my face. He knows better.”
“Still thinks you'll poison his food?”
The man chuckled before mischievously stroking his graying beard. “What can I say? Don't have enough people to run the shop full time, and food's my other passion. I get to feed the stomachs of Atlantis and keep 'em looking sharp.”
Most everyone just required a quick five minutes with the clippers to keep them in regulation and lord knew that some of the scientists hadn't seen a cut since college. It was a morale thing, half the little room had been converted into a salon to be used on Mondays and Fridays for the ladies.
Malcolm grabbed a thick brush, swirling it around a dish of foam. “Since you're here, I can take care of that five o'clock shadow.”
“It's 1200 hours and I guarantee it'll grow back before it actually is 1700,” John drawled. He didn't mention getting a blade that close to his face wasn't a good idea with his reflexes.
“Saw Ronon poke his head in earlier. I'd love to chop all those locks off. He reminds me of one of those surfers I'd see in Cali."
“I think he'd blend in with all the hippies, though I'm sure they keep hidden different types of contraband.” John grinned. “Still haven't checked out the waves here, the riptide looks pretty wicked.” He eyed the scissors that appeared out of nowhere. “What do you think you're going to do with those?”
“Oh come on, I'd never mess with this trademark.” Malcolm waved his hands over John's unruly locks. “I could never recreate this style if I tried, though people do ask.”
John squirmed, eyes flicking to his watch. “Just need the sides done.”
“Of course, but let me just trim right around...here,” the scissors snipping in between. “Don't want you walking on that stage looking like you stuck your finger in a light socket.”
“I don't look like that now.” John ignored the incredulous expression he got. “Today's not a big deal,” he sighed, trying not to slouch. “And there's no stage.”
“You kidding me? Most of your men were in here earlier. I felt like I was back in boot camp. I could've opened up a taxidermy store with what covered the floor.”
John didn't say a word, the clipper buzzing below his ear while he averted his eyes from the long mirror in front of him. As if telepathic, Malcolm swiveled the chair around, spinning him away from his reflection.
“You give modesty a bad name, Colonel. I'd stare at myself after I got out of the shower every day if I looked like you.”
John felt his cheeks burn and the barber shook his head. “If I were ten years younger and thirty pounds lighter, man,” he whistled. “My bed wouldn't be so cold at night.”
“Um...” John, floundered.
“Please. I'm here for language skills and my cooking. Not my looks, sir.”
“Hey, you're breaking the rules,” John reminded him. There were no salutes or ranks here.
The apron slipped away and Malcolm brushed away tiny hairs around the collar. “Habits are hard to break.”
The chair was lowered and John felt odd, still not used to the fact it wasn't like the one in the control room. He smoothed out his shirt as he stood. “Thanks.”
“I bet you can't wait to get in those dress blues,” Malcolm said sarcastically.
He rolled his eyes. “Not really.”
“Hey, Colonel. They're giving you a medal, not a walk on the plank. Even if you don't like the song and dance. Your men and your Team are proud of ya. We all are. Let them get together and bask with you about something good for a change.”
Nice company and good advice. There was a reason why he didn't use those cheap clippers in his room. “Thanks,” John said.
“Enjoy your day,” Malcolm told him, clapping him on the back.
----------
rednz Wanted : Ever wonder how a conversation would go between Sheppard and a barber (on Atlantis)?
-------------------
Author: Kristen999
Rating: PG
Categories: Gen
Characters: Sheppard, OC
Summary: He wanted to say a little off the top, but that was so cheesy.
Word count: 670
Disclaimer: None of them belong to me. No profit intended.
Written for
rednz. Prompt at the end.The last from my requested drabbles!
------------------------------------
John never liked stepping into a room where the tools of the trade were all sharp objects, but the Rolling Stones were blaring from a near by radio and he always liked “Paint It Black.”
Malcolm nudged the swivel chair with his foot. “Colonel, good to see ya."
John slid in, half expecting it to recline from his touch and frowned in disappointment when it didn't. It felt even odder as it rose higher, the barber pumping the metal pedal with his foot.
“You know, we could get you one with automatic hydraulics,” he told him.
“Don't need something fancy,” Malcolm snorted, quirking a bushy eyebrow. “I don't tell ya how to improve those jumpers.”
“No, Rodney does that enough.” John flinched when the apron was draped around his neck. Malcolm saw it in the reflection, but didn't comment, tying the sting loosely.
“Speaking of Dr. McKay, he was in here earlier.”
“Oh yeah.”
“Yep, brought his own shampoo even though I carry special brands just for him.”
“What, No More Tears?”
The corners of Malcolm's mouth curved as he pulled the bottle of baby conditioner out of the drawer. “How'd you guess?”
John laughed. “Did he complain about taking too much off again?”
“Not to my face. He knows better.”
“Still thinks you'll poison his food?”
The man chuckled before mischievously stroking his graying beard. “What can I say? Don't have enough people to run the shop full time, and food's my other passion. I get to feed the stomachs of Atlantis and keep 'em looking sharp.”
Most everyone just required a quick five minutes with the clippers to keep them in regulation and lord knew that some of the scientists hadn't seen a cut since college. It was a morale thing, half the little room had been converted into a salon to be used on Mondays and Fridays for the ladies.
Malcolm grabbed a thick brush, swirling it around a dish of foam. “Since you're here, I can take care of that five o'clock shadow.”
“It's 1200 hours and I guarantee it'll grow back before it actually is 1700,” John drawled. He didn't mention getting a blade that close to his face wasn't a good idea with his reflexes.
“Saw Ronon poke his head in earlier. I'd love to chop all those locks off. He reminds me of one of those surfers I'd see in Cali."
“I think he'd blend in with all the hippies, though I'm sure they keep hidden different types of contraband.” John grinned. “Still haven't checked out the waves here, the riptide looks pretty wicked.” He eyed the scissors that appeared out of nowhere. “What do you think you're going to do with those?”
“Oh come on, I'd never mess with this trademark.” Malcolm waved his hands over John's unruly locks. “I could never recreate this style if I tried, though people do ask.”
John squirmed, eyes flicking to his watch. “Just need the sides done.”
“Of course, but let me just trim right around...here,” the scissors snipping in between. “Don't want you walking on that stage looking like you stuck your finger in a light socket.”
“I don't look like that now.” John ignored the incredulous expression he got. “Today's not a big deal,” he sighed, trying not to slouch. “And there's no stage.”
“You kidding me? Most of your men were in here earlier. I felt like I was back in boot camp. I could've opened up a taxidermy store with what covered the floor.”
John didn't say a word, the clipper buzzing below his ear while he averted his eyes from the long mirror in front of him. As if telepathic, Malcolm swiveled the chair around, spinning him away from his reflection.
“You give modesty a bad name, Colonel. I'd stare at myself after I got out of the shower every day if I looked like you.”
John felt his cheeks burn and the barber shook his head. “If I were ten years younger and thirty pounds lighter, man,” he whistled. “My bed wouldn't be so cold at night.”
“Um...” John, floundered.
“Please. I'm here for language skills and my cooking. Not my looks, sir.”
“Hey, you're breaking the rules,” John reminded him. There were no salutes or ranks here.
The apron slipped away and Malcolm brushed away tiny hairs around the collar. “Habits are hard to break.”
The chair was lowered and John felt odd, still not used to the fact it wasn't like the one in the control room. He smoothed out his shirt as he stood. “Thanks.”
“I bet you can't wait to get in those dress blues,” Malcolm said sarcastically.
He rolled his eyes. “Not really.”
“Hey, Colonel. They're giving you a medal, not a walk on the plank. Even if you don't like the song and dance. Your men and your Team are proud of ya. We all are. Let them get together and bask with you about something good for a change.”
Nice company and good advice. There was a reason why he didn't use those cheap clippers in his room. “Thanks,” John said.
“Enjoy your day,” Malcolm told him, clapping him on the back.
----------
rednz Wanted : Ever wonder how a conversation would go between Sheppard and a barber (on Atlantis)?-------------------
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-02-01 07:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-01 12:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-02 02:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-02 02:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-01 08:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-02 02:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-01 09:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-02 02:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-01 01:15 pm (UTC)(And no, Ronan doesn't want a trim; he'd lose all the places he hides knives.)
no subject
Date: 2008-02-02 02:15 am (UTC)Thank you
no subject
Date: 2008-02-01 01:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-02 02:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-01 03:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-02 02:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-01 05:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-02 02:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-02 04:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-02 05:52 am (UTC)I know you're a big ronon and shep fan as I am. Normally I don't self pimp, but you might like
"Sudden Jolt" which is a short Ronon and Shep piece.
http://kristen999.livejournal.com/75177.html#cutid1
Or "Ties That Bind" which is a Ronon and Shep adv set right after Reunion. Lots of action h/c and all Ronon pov.
http://kristen999.livejournal.com/94731.html#cutid1
no subject
Date: 2008-09-05 06:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-05 05:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-06 04:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-06 05:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-22 11:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-27 05:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-28 01:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-23 04:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-27 05:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-23 01:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-27 05:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-18 06:33 pm (UTC)I love the little things you've "hid" in this fic... The 5 o'clock shade at midday (*g*), the nod to "Baywatch" with the surfers and Ronon, the odd feeling of sitting in a chair that doesn't recline and light up (I interpret it with a little nod to John/Atlantis), the flinch when the aparon came around and the reaction of Malcolm...
That was a good read and I love the little insight we get into the daily life on Atlantis! :)
Thank you for this story!
no subject
Date: 2010-04-18 06:45 pm (UTC)I did a few drabbles all around the same time. They're all listed at the side of my LJ, thank you for commenting!