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Title: Absurd Drabble
Author name: Icarus
Author email: firstname.lastname@example.org
Sub Category: Humor
Summary: Rodney has a terrific sense of smell, really.
DISCLAIMER: The characters and universe contained in this story are Copyright MGM, Showtime, Gekko, Double Secret. No infringement on their copyright is implied. Copyright © 2006 All rights reserved. This story may not be reproduced in whole or part without the author's explicit permission. Ask, guys. I'm easy to reach and usually quite generous.
Author notes: Unbeta'd and silly.
John stretched back on Rodney's sheets, kicking off first one boot, then the other. The pillow fell to the floor and he stared at it tiredly, wondering if the Ancient gene could levitate it back to the bed.
It lay there unmoving. Ancient technology never came through when you needed it.
He sighed and stared up at the ceiling. Water in the next room pattered energetically against the walls, Rodney's huff and little noises echoing in the shower.
The water shut off with a clunk. Rodney stepped out, scrubbing at his hair with a towel.
"Your turn," he gestured.
John just moaned, feeling every inch of that hike, because Rodney? Rodney just had to tinker with some Ancient ruins with half-dead medical equipment they could cannibalize for parts. But John? Now he had to ferry the natives back and forth from the village to gate. All. Damned. Day.
"Hmm. What's that smell?"
John frowned at him. "Smell?"
"Distinctly like Indian food. Someone needs to tell the commissary that Dahl has lemon," he complained, dropping the towel on the floor. Rodney wasn't quite housebroken.
"I don't think we could smell it from here," John pointed out, deciding he wasn't picking that towel up, no matter how long Rodney ignored it. Though he could practically hear his dad demanding it: A quarter should bounce off that bed.
Rodney rummaged through his closet, rattling hangers. There was a pile of dirty laundry in the bottom, from which he fetched his favorite sweats, pulling them on and bouncing in place.
"I think your sense of smell is broken," John raised his eyebrows and hoped those sweats were only a few days old.
"Nope." Rodney tapped the side of his nose. "I have a finely tuned sense of smell. Like a bloodhound. Comes from sniffing for citrus."
He lifted his head, sniffing the air. "And the scent is… coming from over there." He turned, one finger pointed at John. "It's distinctly… pungent… yes."
He took a deeper sniff and stepped closer to John, chin lifted. "Slightly musky… perhaps with cloves, a masala…."
An odd expression crossed his face as he came closer. "A bit… damp? Like wet leaves? Only…" He came level with the bed, took a long, deep breath, and choked, coughing.
He stared at John's boots next to the bed. "Oh, get those out of here! What did you do?"
John held his feet in the air. "Hey, Rodney. Masala! And I promise there's no lemon."
"It smelled different from a distance! Out, out! You're disgusting." Rodney swatted at him as John ducked away, laughing. "Into the shower or I'm never sleeping with you again."