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Language:
English
Series:
Part 4 of Whumptober 2025 (mcshep's version)
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Whumptober 2025
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Published:
2025-10-04
Words:
482
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
17
Kudos:
42
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2
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205

Discordance

Summary:

Whistling air. A fleshy thwack. A low grunt. The soundtrack of the last hour had been unchanging.

John tries to comfort Rodney as they endure a beating.

Notes:

Whumptober 2025, Day 4: Iron Rod

Bad Things Happen Bingo: Broken Nose

Work Text:

Whistling air. A fleshy thwack. A low grunt. The soundtrack of the last hour had been unchanging.

John’s face was throbbing in time to the beat of his heart, his shattered nose the prize for his smart mouth. He kept his voice low, now, so that only Rodney could hear. They were both tied to and hugging the same thick post, arms overlapping, faces close, though not so close that they would bump together when the impact of the iron rod struck them, jostled them.

The air whistled again, and Rodney’s grunt was more like a whimper this time. John’s anger simmered.

“It’s okay, Rodney. It’s gonna be okay. Ronon and Teyla are coming for us. You can do this. Don’t give up. I’m sorry, Rodney. I’m so sorry. It’s gonna be over soon. Just stay with me. Please, stay with me. Deep breaths. You can do this.” The words were absolute nonsense in his ears, and probably in Rodney’s, too, but Rodney’s fingers dug into John’s arm and he found that he couldn’t stop trying to console Rodney even if he wanted to, which he didn’t of course. “I love you. I’m sorry. It’s gonna be okay.”

The air whistled again, and John longed to feel the sting of the impact on his back, but Rodney whimpered again, and John felt sicker and sicker. He didn’t dare try to goad their assailants though. The bastards had realized quickly that John was just trying to distract them.

“Will you fix the machine?” a cruel voice asked, and both men stayed silent, and the air whistled again, and Rodney huffed out a gasp.

“I can’t, John,” Rodney murmured, so softly, and John could see the silent tears that had begun to trace through the dirt on his cheeks.

“You can. We can. Please, Rodney, please.” John stretched, pressed his throbbing head to Rodney’s for just a moment before he braced himself again. “Hang on. Please hang on.”

The air whistled again, but then the sound of Ronon’s gun broke through and the blow never fell. John felt Rodney collapse awkwardly against his side, still tied up, and he shifted to try to support Rodney’s weight. As soon as they were untied, John gathered a limp and gasping Rodney to him, careful of his back, the sides of their heads pressed together to avoid John’s aching nose. John yearned for whole, hale, healthy bodies so he could properly smother Rodney with love and comfort.

“You did it, buddy. We did it. We can go home now.”

Rodney nodded against John’s head, turned to capture John’s lips for a quick, needy moment. John hissed, but didn’t pull away.

“Sorry,” Rodney murmured against his lips.

“S’okay,” John mumbled, “just my stupid broken nose. Not important.” He pressed a few more kisses against Rodney’s mouth, across his face as a whole. “Let’s go home, yeah?”

“Yeah, home.”

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