Fic: Profusely may have been an overstatement

            Two marines rushed their superior officer through the ‘gate, stumbling while carrying him between them.  Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard was bleeding profusely from both his left leg and forehead.

            “Get him – yes, here, get him down,” Sam called for a team of medics as all of the soldiers guarding the ‘gate frowned in worry, most easing forward to see John for themselves.  One of the ones from the offworld team checked his pulse as the other put pressure on his leg, aided by two men from the ‘gate room, regardless of how many hands may or may not fit on the wound.

            “His head,” Stackhouse whispered, kneeling next to John’s head.  John only groaned.  The man across from Stackhouse glanced up to him.

            “Pulse’s good.” Both men looked to the rest of the ‘gate room, which was eerily quiet, “he’ll be alright.”

 

            “I hear a big bad colonel had to be carried back to the ‘gate because of a few little scratches and bump on the head,” a Scottish voice gently teased.

            “Mmmphh,” John mumbled, his head stuffed in a pillow, his lovers blankets cushioned around him. “was a c’conshun . . .”

            “A concussion?” Carson eased down on top of John, who promptly nuzzled into his neck. “A meager one, thankfully.

            “You’re warm,” the whisper came out almost too breathy to understand.

            “Yes, love, I suppose I am,” Carson smiled lovingly into John’s ear, “but don’t think that means I’m not going to make you change you’re bandages every few hours. I might even have to wake you up.”

            “Wouldn’t mind that,” John tried to smile seductively, but being buried under 200 pounds of blankets and warm Scotsmen tended to hamper such things.

            Carson chuckled and worked his arms around his love, “Oh, I’m sure you’ll complain every time.”