FIC: Match Game
Apr. 15th, 2008 01:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ebonlockTitle: MATCH GAME
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Authors:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ebonlock and moonlightnrain
Rating: R
Spoilers: Through "Outcast"
Word Count: 16,672
Genre: Humor, First Time
Summary: John discovers that trying to fill in Rodney's blanks can be a risky proposition.
Notes: Once againmoonlightnrain and I prove ourselves incapable of writing anything shorter than a novella together. She's written ficlets in this genre before but this is my first time, so please be gentle. Feedback adored...
Rodney McKay was a brilliant man; some (including himself) would even say a genius. His prodigious mind zipped along at a pace few could hope to achieve sans an Ancient artifact-induced mental upgrade and an I.V. drip of straight caffeine. In fact, sometimes his brain so out-paced his verbal capacities, which were, likewise, prodigious, that his voice would grind to an abrupt halt. At those moments his brows would furrow, his shoulders hunch and his hands would begin to do a little fluttery dance around his head as if he were physically casting about for the words he needed.
This tended to happen more frequently when he was under periods of intense, panic-induced stress, rather than just his usual level of heightened anxiety. So it was only natural that away missions would trigger the verbal lapses with some regularity. McKay barely seemed aware of them until John Sheppard rather helpfully tried to suggest the word his teammate was fumbling for.
At first he'd actually tried to be helpful, piping in with something that seemed likely given the general context of their circumstances. He'd tried "wave amplifier", "DNA re-sequencer", and "unknown anti-Wraith technology" at various times all in a sincere effort to jump-start McKay's latest diatribe. More often than not he was met with a, "What? No!" or occasionally, "I...do you...that doesn't even make sense!" But more often than not McKay simply glared silently for several seconds, rolled his eyes heavenward as if seeking pity from a higher power in which he adamantly did not believe, and stormed off in a huff.
It was the latter response that, as far as Sheppard was concerned, changed the rules entirely.
After that point Sheppard decided to turn the whole thing into an ongoing game of Mad Libs. His "helpful" suggestions became increasingly absurd. He figured that if he couldn't accurately predict whatever it was that McKay was trying to get across, at least he could amuse himself and the rest of his team. That it had the added benefit of often sending Rodney into a round of stammering hysterics was just the cherry on top.
When Ronon began to play as well it was all Teyla could do to keep the ever-agitated scientist from quitting the team. She would give the other two men a stern look and intone, "I do not think thatis what Rodney is trying to say at all." That was generally a good indicator that they were reaching the McKay Red Zone and they should draw that particular day's festivities to a close.
Of course any game required both rules and a scoring system and this one was no different. The first and most important rule was that the word or phrase had to be delivered with a completely straight face. The second was that you couldn't repeat a word you'd already used nor one that your competitor had. Each suggestion had to be as unique as a snowflake.
After that the rules became somewhat more esoteric and subject to change. Indeed often Ronon and Sheppard would meet just after a briefing to lay out which set would be in play on any given mission. Sometimes they left the field wide open, and other times they set strict parameters like, "only things that are blue" or "only people or things that have tried to kill Rodney".
Scoring, however, was simple; points were awarded for every interesting shade from red to purple his face became during any given round. Ten points went to the one who inspired the most insulting verbal abuse in return, and twenty to the man capable of either reducing McKay to complete incoherence or sending him off to the rear of the Puddle Jumper to pout.
***
“I do know what you speak of.” Teyla chose her words carefully, but if Rodney noticed her reticence, it didn’t register on his face. “Sometimes affection is expressed in unusual ways.”
Rodney blinked for several long seconds before he could find words. “Let me get this straight: you think John is pulling my pigtails?”
Rodney sounded offended at the suggestion, that much she could tell, but Teyla didn’t understand what the tails of swine had to do with some harmless teasing.
“I am not sure I understand you,” she admitted wearily, and fought the urge to roll her eyes. Someday she would no longer have to utter this sentence. That day was nearer than it had been when she first met Rodney McKay, but it still felt a long way off.
“It means… cruelty as a means of flirting.” Rodney mumbled the words hurriedly and coughed to cover his blush.
“I believe Colonel Sheppard and Ronon intend neither cruelty nor flirtation.”
Rodney growled. The conversation was taking a turn for the worse, she just knew it. She also knew the best way to diffuse the ticking bomb of Rodney’s fragile ego was, surprisingly enough, with touch. For all the man’s lack of physical sagacity, a warm hard on the middle of his back, or a soft grip on his forearm had all the calming effect of a cup of fresh Athosian mint tea. This time she gripped his shoulder, firmly but gently, and turned him to face her.
“Rodney, they are like family to you, are they not?”
“No. I mean, yes.”
“And I would guess that at some point in your childhood you teased your sister to the point of tears without meaning to.”
“Are you kidding? I did that last week, but that’s different.”
Teyla quirked an eyebrow and her lips slid into a half smile, but her voice remained sympathetic. “Different how?”
“I wasn’t trying to make my sister cry. But Sheppard and Ronon are clearly, clearly, trying to annoy me. They even seem to get some sort of sick, perverse, twisted joy out of it.”
Teyla released her grip on Rodney’s arm, and turned to stare at the Atlantian wall behind him. Emotional conversations with the man were often like intricate mazes, and today she found herself at yet another dead end.
As she attempted to regroup her thoughts and find another tack, Ronon passed by in the hall with Lorne, bragging loudly.
“So then Sheppard suggested ‘Satedan Yak milk’ but that’s not technically red until you add in the berries which prevent it from being poisonous to humans. Since he was disqualified, I got the 20 points that day.”
Before Teyla could think of a new way to ease Rodney’s pain, he trotted off after Ronon and Lorne saying, “Wait, what? Satedan Yak milk… that was… this is some sort of game???With scoring???”
Teyla sighed and headed for the training room. She knew of only one way to work off the frustration that any heartfelt talk with Rodney inevitably led to. Well, two ways, really, but none of the men of Atlantis were suitable for the second method and the one woman who might be seemed disinterested in such an arrangement at this time.
***
Rodney slammed his lunch tray down with sufficient force to slosh the remains of his coffee in several different directions. It missed landing in Sheppard's lap by inches. With a quirked eyebrow he drawled, "Ok your grown up table privileges are hereby officially revoked."
McKay's bright blue eyes narrowed and his chin jutted out petulantly. "Oh that's rich! You're actually claiming the maturity high ground here? Huh? You might want to rethink that seeing as I know all about your little game."
The triumphant expression on the astrophysicist’s face prompted Sheppard to turn his attention to Ronon. The warrior merely shrugged and muttered, "He had cookies."
"That is so weak."
"They're double chocolate chunk."
"Really?" Even Sheppard found it difficult to argue with Ronon's logic on that one. "So bribery, last resort of the desperate super genius, huh?"
"First resort, actually," McKay admitted with a nervous twitch of his shoulders. "Oh, c'mon it's not as if threats or physical intimidation were going to work."
"You got that right," Ronon agreed amiably while grabbing another French fry from his plate.
"And I long ago gave up on appeals to reason or fair play." Rodney folded his arms across his broad chest and glowered. "Wait a minute, why am I getting all defensive? You're the one who's been acting like the world's oldest grade-schooler."
"Right, like you're the very epitome of maturity."
"You do realize that you've just eloquently proven my point with an argument that boils down to 'I know you are, but what am I?’, don't you?" Rodney planted both fists on the table and leaned over and glaring at Sheppard in a manner known to have made fully grown biochemists lose all bladder control. "I don't like to think of myself as a petty, vindictive man..."
Ronon snickered, but otherwise refrained from comment.
"…But I am sorely tempted to take this straight to Colonel Carter. I think she'd be absolutely fascinated at how her senior staff members choose to treat their scientific liaisons during critical missions."
Sheppard slouched in his chair and used one of his own French fries to doodle lazy circles with his ketchup. "Tattletale."
Rodney straightened abruptly, his hands balled into white knuckled fists. "I am not a...” He paused, then began again in a lower octave and volume, "I am not a tattletale! I'm a highly respected expert in my field, the leader of the scientific program on this city, and the man who, pretty much single-handedly I might add, keeps us all from sinking to the bottom of the ocean! And this is the treatment I get in return? It's stupid, it's infantile and it's stopping...now. If you need entertainment so badly go pull the wings off flies or kick Athosian puppies instead."
"Jeez, Rodney, way to blow something out of proportion." It was, John thought to himself, McKay's most over-utilized skill. Truth be told the man had missed his calling as an operatic diva.
"I'm not a joke and I won't be turned into one for your amusement, you got that? I deserve better...I demand better. I demand respect, a-and common courtesy, and...."
Sheppard could see the telltale signs of another verbal short out; his mouth was working long before his brain even realized what was happening. "...A kiss?"
Rodney's eyes widened dangerously and his face took on that blank look it got whenever a dozen or so emotions were vying for simultaneous release. "You are...you...” With that the scientist turned on his heel and stalked out of the mess hall without another word.
Sheppard just sat and watched him go with a puzzled look on his face. Where in the hell had that come from? Sure it had become second nature to just blurt out words but never those kinds of words. It was unsettling in itself, but beyond that he was pretty sure he'd just laid down the verbal equivalent of a final straw.
Ronon finally looked up from his own food and gazed at his friend with a single raised eyebrow. "That," he intoned somberly, "was weird."
"Tell me about it." John returned with a sigh.
***
Rodney had never understood playfulness. His only friend in kindergarten gave him a wet willy when they were taking a break from the monkey bars at recess and in retaliation Rodney had bitten the boy's arm. They both went to the school nurse -- Lyle because he needed stitches and Rodney because he was certain he was having an allergic reaction to the blood he'd drawn.
As a result he asked himself three times if his revenge on Ronon and Sheppard was appropriate. The entomology department wasn't likely to miss one small box of specimens from M3X-279, he told himself. And this wasn't the sort of thing that would end in stitches. Calamine lotion, perhaps, but not stitches.
Thus placated, he crept into Sheppard's quarters while he was off training with Ronon, placed half the contents of the box in the man's underwear drawer -- careful not to let any of the bugs come in contact with his skin -- and shut the drawer with an evil, lopsided grin.
"That'll teach you to end my.... Fill in my...."
Blanks, thought Rodney, with a sigh, asentences. For a genius, sometimes he managed to sound like an idiot.
He was outside Ronon's quarters, trying to place the now empty specimen box into his jacket as inconspicuously as possible when Ronon shouldered past him with a grunted, "McKay." Rodney jumped, nearly sending the Plexiglas case tumbling to the floor.
"Hey! Ronon! What's up, big guy? Any new bruises?"
"Not on me" Ronon grinned and shut his door in Rodney's face.
Rodney adopted an air of smug confidence as he made his way back to the entomology department. He was home free.
A few hours later, he'd completely forgotten the prank. He was tucking in to his third helping of Beef Stroganoff, idly wondering if there was any chocolate puddings left, and staring at the nanite neutronium utilization coding on his laptop's monitor.
"Whatcha working on?" Sheppard asked good-naturedly. He took a seat across from McKay and dug into his chocolate pudding with gusto.
"Is that the last one?" Rodney asked, barely glancing up from his monitor.
"The last what?" Sheppard asked, flipping the spoon over and sticking it back in his mouth to extract every last drop of pudding from its surface with expert precision.
"The last...." Rodney gestured, and then realizing he was pausing long enough to indicate he couldn't think of the word, shouted, "PUDDING!" before Sheppard could offer some ridiculous suggestion.
"Easy there, Bucko.” The colonel glanced around the mess to see if anyone had noticed Rodney’s little outburst. “In fact, it is not. I can go get you... ow."
"You can go get me 'ow'?" Rodney asked.
"No, I mean... Ow. Ow as in... DAMMIT! That, that really... hurts!" Sheppard was standing now and sort of slapping at his crotch. But he appeared to be trying to do it in such a way that didn't immediately suggest that he was slapping at his crotch.
And then he fell over, grunting in pain, and sweating.
Ronon approached with a tray piled high with Ballkan meat cakes and extra bowls of barbeque sauce. "What's his problem?" he said, pointing his chin at his leader, writhing on the floor.
"Oh, good, Ronon. You're feeling okay?" McKay asked in a high, pleading voice.
"Would you two... girls," Sheppard gasped, "stop chatting… and help get me to the... infirmary?" He grunted and then began to keen quietly.
"Oh god," McKay groaned, "I knew it."
He and Ronon helped John to his feet and began to ease him down the hall toward Keller's office.
"Ronon, is there any chance you aren't wearing underwear today?" McKay squeaked.
"Yeah. And there's an even better chance I'm going to kill you if you ever ask me about my undergarments again."
***
Sam Carter glanced up as Teyla entered her office. The other woman appeared a bit apprehensive, clearly not altogether certain why she'd been summoned. Sam felt a twinge of regret that she'd not had the time to actually get to know the Athosian in the past few weeks since her posting to Atlantis. In a way Teyla reminded her a little of Daniel, calm, thoughtful and diplomatic to a fault. Though she couldn't quite imagine Teyla lecturing her on 2,000-year-old fertility cults with the same enthusiasm as her former colleague. "Hi Teyla, thank you for coming. I'd, um, well I'd like to get your take on something."
"My 'take'?"
Sam smiled and decided that Teyla had a little in common with Teal'c as well. "I mean your feedback. It's about team dynamics." The darker skinned woman's eyebrows rose sharply. "Your team's dynamics to be precise. When I first arrived here I would've said you were all very cohesive, working together as smoothly as...well, SG-1 used to when I was a member."
"We have learned to appreciate one another’s' abilities and accommodate for those things which each of us lack, is this what you mean?"
"Yes, that's definitely what I used to see, and frankly nobody was more surprised than me to note Rodney fitting in so well."
Teyla seemed genuinely torn between commiserating and defending the scientist. Finally she settled on an enigmatic smile. "Dr. McKay has proven his worth repeatedly over my time on Atlantis. He is really not so very difficult to understand if one makes an effort to do so. However, he can sometimes be quite... trying."
Carter covered a grin by glancing down at her data pad quickly. "The thing is, during mission de-briefs these days I'm sensing a lot of tension between Rodney and John."
"Ah," that one sound told Sam just about everything she needed to know. Teyla must have recognized as much, her placid facade shifted just enough to allow Carter to see that the woman had been well aware of the problem and uncertain how to address it.
"There's also the incident with a certain species of stinging insects which somehow found their way from the entomology department and into Colonel Sheppard's underwear drawer."
Teyla suddenly seemed to find her lap absolutely fascinating.
"Let me be clear about this, Teyla, I've worked on a mostly male team since I joined the SGC. I know what me-, no, what boys can be like after extended periods in close proximity and high stress. I have absolutely no problem with low level pranks and jokes so long as they don't interfere with the mission or start to dissolve unit cohesion." Sam paused and wondered exactly when she'd turned into General Hammond rather than her own mother. "But I'm beginning to think something else is going on right now and I want to know if I should be concerned."
"I think.... May, may I be quite frank with you?" At Sam's enthusiastic nod, Teyla continued, "I think that it began as simple teasing which both Ronon and John engage in with me periodically. I do not find it troubling; indeed it seems to be an indication of their friendship towards me. I think I would only be concerned if they ceased to tease me. But I am not Rodney, and sometimes they push him too far because it amuses them to do so and because they honestly do not see how much it hurts him." She paused then shrugged gently. "I do my best to keep them in line, but..."
"But you can only do so much, and you never signed up as team mom. Believe me, I understand all too well."
"Perhaps if I were to speak to John and Rodney separately...and then we were to be assigned a simple mission, something that would take only a few hours and would give us all time to become...cohesive again..." Teyla spread her hands letting Sam fill in the rest for herself.
"A milk run, huh? That's actually not a bad idea. But the last I heard Sheppard and McKay weren't even speaking to each other."
The Athosian smiled in a manner that might have been mistaken for sweet unless one looked at her eyes. "I believe I can handle them."
"I'm sure you can, Teyla. All right, I'll see what I can come up with in the meantime. And, Teyla, thanks for discussing this with me. I know I'm still something of a newbie here and I appreciate your trust and your honesty."
"You have shown yourself to be quite deserving of both, Colonel." Teyla stood in one graceful motion and added, "Now I believe the phrase is, 'wish me luck'."
"Good luck," Sam returned with a smile.
***
M5E-379 had started out promisingly enough. The team walked through the gate to Rodney's sarcastic chirp, "Oh look, Canada again. Yay."
"Hey," Sheppard returned, gazing carefully around the open space near the gate and then turning his attention to the forest of evergreens before them, "at least you never have to worry about getting homesick."
"I left the Great White North for a reason, you know. Once, just once it would be nice to see something a little...different. Would it be too much to ask that one Stargate drop us off in the middle of a beautiful, high-tech, completely pollen and bug-free city?"
The banter seemed a little off, but it was so close to the normal give and take between the two that everyone pretended nothing was wrong.
"Why not ask for it to be entirely inhabited by buxom Amazons with a geek fetish while you're at it?" That earned a thoughtful look from McKay and rolled eyes from Teyla. Ronon, on the other hand, just grinned wolfishly. "So you wanna tell us which direction we're heading in?"
"What? Oh, right," McKay pulled out his scanner and tapped it before groaning, "you'll never guess." He pointed with obvious dismay at the forest. "I'm probably going to end up covered in this miserable planet's version of poison ivy. Or bitten by giant, blood thirsty insects..."
"Or both," Ronon added helpfully.
"Oh thank you so much. You're a constant source of comfort to me, have I mentioned that lately? By the way lots of life signs ahead of us and not all of them are humanoid." He glanced up at Sheppard and muttered, "Some of them are very...large."
"Probably this world's equivalent of cows, McKay. Trust me, it'll be fine. Just a nice leisurely walk in the woods."
Ronon and Rodney made such similarly disbelieving snorts that they exchanged a startled look. Then the scientist clutched his scanner like a shield and his eyes darted from one team member to the other. "You're all clear on the fact that if I get eaten the progress of scientific advancement in the Pegasus Galaxy is going to come to a screeching halt, right? And I'd just like to re-affirm that the idea of a posthumous Nobel holds about zero interest for me. Right. Ok. I'll just um..." He moved into the center of the group and consulted his scanner once more. "It's that way." His hand waved in the general direction of the trees in front of them.
Sheppard, cradling his P90 in an effort to appear completely casual and unconcerned, took the lead. He seemed to be gazing around at the scenery as if the team were doing nothing more dangerous than taking a pleasant nature hike back on Earth. In reality his eyes were busily scanning the surroundings for any hint of danger, and the grip on his gun kept his hands from straying down to scratch his crotch. Not exactly the sort of thing destined to make a good impression on the natives.
Ronon and Teyla flanked McKay who'd begun a litany of complaints as soon as they'd walked under the tree cover. "I honestly don't know what Sam was thinking sending us out on such a pointless waste of time. If there was anything of value in that temple the last team would've found it and it's not like we need to worry about trading partners any more so why are we even here?"
"Perhaps there is some hidden value to the planet that the survey team did not discover?"
Rodney threw his arms wide as if addressing the entire planet as a whole, "Sure, maybe if we suddenly decide to build an 18th century style Navy we'd find the lumber very valuable. This is the sort of thing that Bellings and his little soft sciences anthropology posse just eat right up with a spoon; they should be here, not me. I could be in my lab right now coming up with the next brilliant defense against the Replicators but instead I'm dodging pinecones. If ever I needed definitive proof that a loving deity doesn't exist, this is it."
"I like the fresh air," Ronon said, picking up a pine needle and chewing it thoughtfully.
"You would, and what the hell are you doing? You don't know where that needle's been or what's stepped on it. It could be carrying any number of unknown, potentially life-threatening...."
"Rodney," Sheppard cut in, turning to face the flushed scientist, "enough."
McKay's mouth pressed into a firm, unhappy line. "Fine. Fine, see if I care if the big lug ends up hospitalized. I can't promise to refrain from saying ‘I told you so’ when I come to visit, though."
"Fair enough," Ronon agreed with a lazy grin.
"I believe we are not far from the village." Teyla added with a slightly strained smile of her own.
"Well then," Sheppard said, taking the lead once more, "let's go see what the wheel of fortune has in store for us this time around."
***
Three hours, a short but pleasant lunch, and several delightful conversations later; Sheppard noticed Rodney stalking out of the wood and thatch "temple" with an expression of bored disdain on his features. A bored Rodney was a sulky Rodney, and John was incredibly grateful they'd been able to take the Stargate. A long ride home in a jumper with McKay in a snit just didn't bear thinking about.
"Total bust, these people are stupid as sticks and twice as dull."
"Rodney!"
"What?" The scientist gave Sheppard a careless shrug. "Holding a conversation with one of them is about as intellectually stimulating as trying to nail Jell-o to the wall. Ooh,
Jell-o, I'm starving. Do you suppose they'll have the blue kind? All they had was yellow yesterday and as I've said many times yellow is the color of the Devil."
John rolled his eyes and sighed, "So we're done here?"
"I certainly am and, again, hungry so let's get back to the gate."
Sheppard barely bit back a groan; bored, sulky and hungry, the perfect McKay trifecta. It was going to be a long walk back.
“Where are Ronon and Teyla?”
John smiled and settled the sunglasses that had been perched on his head back over his eyes. “Last I saw ‘em Teyla was chatting up the head man. She thinks we might actually be able to score some Chika beans in exchange for a few doses of penicillin and some basic medical supplies.”
“And this is a good thing because…?”
“No idea, but Teyla seemed happy about it.”
“Well I guess if Teyla’s happy…” Rodney had managed to put the oddest mix of sarcasm and sincerity into that simple statement causing John to raise a puzzled eyebrow. Just when he thought he’d read the entire Rodney McKay user’s manual the guy would do or say something that had him reaching for the latest edition.
“I think Ronon’s off playing cowboy,” John blurted out, feeling like he should finish his answer.
“They actually have cows here?” There’s an obvious undertone of ‘steak, steak, steak!’ in Rodney’s voice.
“Um, kinda’. They’re actually sort of like hairy brontosauruses…brontosauri…whatever. They’re called Helle-something or other, but I thought I’d just go with ‘Banthas’.”
“Yes,” Rodney sneered, shoving his scanner into a vest pocket, “you would.”
An uncomfortable silence descended between them, punctuated only by the sounds of the village and the braying of Sheppard’s Banthas. John shuffled and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Things had gone surprisingly weird with a suddenness that made him a little sad.
“Shouldn’t we, ah…” Rodney began tentatively.
“Head back, yeah.” The sharp, angry glance he received made Sheppard tense. “Sorry, habit.” With a sigh he tapped his earpiece and muttered, “Ronon, we’re heading back to the gate.”
“Busy now,” Dex growled in return.
John straightened abruptly. “Good busy or bad busy?”
At first all he got in response was a muffled grunt, then finally Ronon replied, “Good. Real good.”
“O-kay.” John was trying desperately to parse that response in a way that didn’t lead his brain down a decidedly disturbing path. “Um, see you at the gate then.” He spared a quick glance at Rodney, who was beginning to pace in a small, tight circle. Not good, not good at all. Tapping his radio again, John muttered, “Teyla, we’re really ready to head back now.”
“I will be with you shortly.”
The tone was just a little off. It was a bit too light and breezy, neither quality he’d come to expect from her. The gravity of her voice and bearing was sometimes the only thing that could keep him grounded. And he’d begun to wonder if maybe there was something more to this world than they thought. Something capable of the sort of weird mind-fuckery he’d once thought restricted to the realm of science fiction…or SG-1 field reports.
“Perhaps we should simply meet at the gate?” She sounded a lot more normal in that query, back to being the bedrock of pragmatism he’d come to rely on.
So why did he have the weirdest feeling that she was stalling?
“Sure, sure we’ll, ah, meet you there then.” Something was totally going on, and if it involved some kind of spores, or god forbid, bugs he was going to indulge in the mother of all hissy fits. A true grand mal freak-out that would put Rodney’s typical hysterics to shame. It was only fair; he’d earned it.
“What the hell?” McKay grumbled, throwing his arms wide. “Is it just me or is this turning into a bad Star Trek episode?”
“It’s not just you. I’m hoping it’s one of the funny episodes, personally.”
“And what are the chances of that? I’ll tell you, not very good. You know what? Screw this, whatever weirdness is going on here really doesn’t interest me. What does interest me is a hot meal, followed by a hot shower, and then maybe, just maybe, accomplishing something meaningful with what remains of today.” He began stomping off into the woods, pausing just long enough to throw over his shoulder, “Well, are you coming or not?”
Sheppard felt his shoulders droop, he’d been hoping for a little insulation between himself and the increasingly annoyed scientist. Just the two of them alone seemed like a disaster waiting to happen, one of those messy disasters that would inevitably lead to somebody like Dr. Parrish ending up on his team in the not too distant future. John really, really didn’t want a botanist on his team. He’d never hear the end of it from Lorne.
"Well," Rodney sighed as they tromped through the undergrowth together, "this is awkward."
John really hadn't wanted to be the one to say it; fortunately that was rarely a problem around McKay. "At least the mission's gone ok." He let the final "so far" hang silently in the air between them.
"And what mission was that, exactly? The walk from the gate through the woods mission? The stand around scanning an empty temple mission? Or perhaps the all-important negotiating for beans mission? I...there just are no words to describe how frustrating these pointless milk ru-...Wait a minute. That's what this is, isn't it? Sam and Teyla probably cooked it up in lieu of a team drumming circle or something."
He was right, of course, and Sheppard mentally kicked himself for not seeing it sooner. "Could've been worse, I guess."
"Oh really, how?"
"They could've locked us in a conference room and made us talk about our feelings for a couple of hours."
"You mean they could've tried to do that, but Sam knows full well it'd take me roughly five minutes to break out. I'd be on the lam long before she even got the internal sensors back online. She's brilliant, don't get me wrong, but I wrote most of those systems and she's still nosing her way through four years worth of my particular brand of genius." McKay halted abruptly and folded his arms over his chest. "She's so getting a piece of my mind for this whole fiasco when we get back! And with just the right application of guilt and apoplexy I may just get that Aeron chair I requisitioned ten months ago."
"I guess the old McKay charm kinda failed you on that one, huh?"
"Please, I leave charm to overly coiffed flyboys with suicidal streaks." He gave Sheppard a significant look before continuing; "The blunt force of my intellect has served me perfectly well over the years. And where that's failed yelling and whining generally succeed."
Sheppard couldn't really argue with that, he'd seen McKay browbeat entire military branches into doing his evil bidding through that disturbingly effective combination. Rodney was as understated as a tactical nuke, and as far as he was concerned a little collateral damage to those who stood between him and one of his desires was par for the course. It was just eggs and omelets to his mind, and god help you if you ended up in the former part of that equation.
With that thought John realized he was getting hungry too and dug out a Powerbar.
"So what are you going to ask for?"
Sheppard blinked and asked, "Huh?"
"When we get back," Rodney had slipped effortlessly into the 'god why are you so dumb?' tone. "It's the perfect opportunity to hit Sam up for anything you and your grunts have been pining for from the back of the latest edition of Guns and Ammo. I'm sure there's some sexy little RPG you've had your eyes on for a while now."
"Actually I was kind of hoping to get my hands on a few more Zats. They're nice and compact, but they pack a helluva’ punch. I'm wondering how effective they'd be on a Wraith."
"Hmm..." The scientist raised a finger to his lips, lost in thought. "You know I've been
thinking we should run some more standardized tests on our weapons' effectiveness on the Wraith rather than just shooting at them whenever they pop up and hoping like hell they die or at least fall over for a while. I could go through Carson's notes on Michael's physiology, maybe create a few simulations running through all the known parameters for drones and queens. We start inputting all the standard issue weapons then I could cross-reference with the databases at Area 51 for the more exotic stuff. God I'm going to need to pull Miko off a couple of projects but she's not working on anything vital at the moment. And by 'vital' I mean short-term survival-wise, of course. Because there's not a single project my team's working on that isn't vital in the long-term. But when it comes to priorities, the most effective method of killing Wraith before they can kill us is pretty near the top of the list. Right after not blowing ourselves up or sinking the city to the bottom of the ocean."
When McKay paused for breath John just grinned at him until the scientist barked, "What?"
"Nothing."
"No, seriously, what?"
"I was just thinking with your lung capacity you must be a helluva swimmer."
"You know I'm really beginning to think that decades of over exposure to high cost hair products has begun to have a detrimental effect on your higher cognitive functions. It's almost tragic, really, but on the plus side, in your line of work, it'll hardly even be noticeable. I'd recommend cutting back on the gel a little; it might slow the degeneration incrementally."
"I'll keep that in mind," John returned, still grinning in a decidedly goofy manner. McKay was awfully cute when he was jealous of... His brain paused, rewound that particular thought and ran it again. McKay was awfully cute... Ok that was unexpected. He had no idea when the words 'McKay' and 'cute' became related in his mind. Unless he'd meant it sarcastically, in which case it was totally fine and normal and nothing at all to be worried about.
Unfortunately his momentary panic had made him lose complete track of the conversation, and sadly Rodney had managed to pick up on that fact. "...because my god it's not like I ever have anything important to say. You're probably dreaming about the last alien princess who waved her heaving bosoms at you. Or golf which is, I'd like to point out, slightly less of an actual sport than, say, ice dancing. And are you even listening to a word I say?"
Sheppard squinted back, then drawled, "Is that a trick question?"
"That's just...you are...I can't believe I..." Rodney'd begun pacing and wrung his hands together as if squeezing the life out of an invisible fairy, slowly. "You know what? I don't need this. I actually have real contributions I could be making. Important scientific contributions! I have papers to write and simulations to run and, and scientists to...to..."
"Spank?" No one could've been more shocked by what had come out of Sheppard's mouth than he was. Maybe it was the hair gel after all, seeping into his skull and melting his brain. It was the only viable explanation for why he'd said that...and why he'd even briefly thought McKay was cute.
Rodney had turned a fascinating shade of vermillion, his eyes so wide they almost seemed to be popping out of his head like an old Warner Brothers cartoon character. He shook one finger dangerously close to John's nose for several seconds before making an inarticulate, choking squeak, turned on his heel, and stalked off into the woods.
"Rodney, wait I…. Come on, Rodney it was an accident. Maybe the natives slipped me something in my lunch. Would you just please slow down?"
From somewhere ahead in the dense growth he thought he heard another squeak, though this one was much less 'aneurism-inducing rage' and a little closer to 'losing all bladder control terror'. When Sheppard caught up to him it became immediately apparent why, somehow the man had managed to walk directly into one of the furry brontosaurus creatures.
"So on a scale from one to oh my god, just how screwed am I right now?" McKay's voice did that little throaty warble that always made Sheppard feel the insane need to wrap the scientist in a nice warm blanket and hand him a teddy bear.
"Um..." John's hazel eyes tore themselves away from the petrified man to gaze far up into the treetops.
"Oh god, oh god I'm a dead man aren't I? And I'm going to die hungry in the woods...on a milk run...for beans!"
"I think it would be really good if you stayed calm and possibly quiet." John began to angle his body and brought his firearm to bear on the creature.
"Yeah," Rodney moaned, "'cause that's really likely to happen."
"Just this once," Sheppard gritted in return, racking his brain for every bit of information he should've been paying attention to about the Banthas when the nice natives fed him lunch, "make an effort."
"What do you...." McKay began again in a much softer voice, "What do you think I'm doing? This is as calm and quiet as I get when I've inadvertently walked into a giant cow monster. And I presume that's what I'm leaning against, right? A cow monster. A nice, big, dumb, gentle cow monster."
"Well that's definitely a Bantha but even big, dumb, gentle monsters can hurt you so let's just take things nice and slow, ok? Why don't you take a little step closer to me?"
"Um, are you sure that's a good idea?"
"It's that or stand under the cow monster all day, your call."
"I just," Rodney paused and then took the smallest step possible towards Sheppard. When nothing immediately fatal happened he continued, "I just wanted to be sure you were sure. About the walking I mean. Because right now I'd be all in favor of running, personally."
"And you may just get your chance. Thing is we don't want to spook it."
"Oh by all means let's not scare the giant monster. Have you even been around livestock before? Or are you basing this on all the westerns you saw as a kid?"
Sheppard watched the other man take two more small, careful steps. "Actually my family owned horses, been around them most of my life. So yes, I know a little bit about large, easily spooked animals."
"Really? Horses? Like on a ranch?"
"Not exactly." John grimaced, wondering idly if Canadians were generally convinced that all Americans lived on ranches.
"Elaborate please." McKay's eyes were boring into his own. "Seriously, one it's keeping me calm, and two you never talk about your family and there might be one or two inter-departmental bets riding on the outcome of this conversation."
"Fine, just... just keep walking slowly, ok?" After a quick, nervous nod, John sighed and said, "My family owned a bunch of estates and on two of them we had pastures big enough to keep a few pleasure horses."
"Estates? You grew up on estates? Should I be referring to you as 'your lordship'?"
"Only if you want me to punch you in the face."
"Right. Ok. That's... hmm, well I'll admit there were one or two bets that you were an international playboy as well as an intergalactic one. Guess they're taking the pot. Fair enough. I should've stuck with my original Bruce Wayne theory; I think that would've been close enough to count. Your parents weren't murdered in a tragic manner just after you saw the movie Top Gun by any chance, were they?"
"No Rodney, and I'd like to point out that this is a great example of why I don't talk about my past a lot."
"I thought you were just going for an air of mystery to sort of round out your cooler-than-thou persona," McKay returned testily. "And you do realize if we survive this I'm totally off the team, right?"
"Can we maybe discuss this somewhere far away from the cow monster?"
The other man's chin jumped up, and from its relative angle Sheppard could tell that Rodney was about to dig his heels in about this. "There's nothing to discuss. This isn't working and as I've said there are far more productive ways I could be spending my time. I'll get you someone better suited to the 'team dynamic'. Maybe Parrish. I know how much you've wanted a botanist of your very own."
John groaned aloud, Rodney could be such a vindictive bastard sometimes. Before he could respond with a rather viciously worded recommendation that he assign Katie Brown instead, both men heard a weird rumbling roar heading in their direction from the village. Unfortunately the Bantha heard it too and reacted with completely predictable alarm. John immediately realized the futility of even attempting to take the thing down with a P90, and made a grab for Rodney's arm. He caught it, but not before the furry behemoth lurched into motion and clipped the scientist hard enough to send him flying. Sheppard held on, getting dragged several feet, but managing to keep the other man from impacting with a tree. Or, at least, a big tree.
He bit his lip and stared down at the moaning scientist just as Ronon jogged up to the pair holding what looked like a giant horn. The Satedan grinned proudly and proclaimed, "Did you hear that? I summoned the herd!"
"Oh we heard it all right," Sheppard muttered and briefly considered smacking the taller man on the back of the head. Between the dreds, the concealed weaponry there and the very real possibility of getting hit in return, hard, he thought better of it.
"Did you break McKay?" Ronon looked annoyingly disappointed in him.
On to Part Two
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Authors:
ebonlock and moonlightnrainRating: R
Spoilers: Through "Outcast"
Word Count: 16,672
Genre: Humor, First Time
Summary: John discovers that trying to fill in Rodney's blanks can be a risky proposition.
Notes: Once again
moonlightnrain and I prove ourselves incapable of writing anything shorter than a novella together. She's written ficlets in this genre before but this is my first time, so please be gentle. Feedback adored...Rodney McKay was a brilliant man; some (including himself) would even say a genius. His prodigious mind zipped along at a pace few could hope to achieve sans an Ancient artifact-induced mental upgrade and an I.V. drip of straight caffeine. In fact, sometimes his brain so out-paced his verbal capacities, which were, likewise, prodigious, that his voice would grind to an abrupt halt. At those moments his brows would furrow, his shoulders hunch and his hands would begin to do a little fluttery dance around his head as if he were physically casting about for the words he needed.
This tended to happen more frequently when he was under periods of intense, panic-induced stress, rather than just his usual level of heightened anxiety. So it was only natural that away missions would trigger the verbal lapses with some regularity. McKay barely seemed aware of them until John Sheppard rather helpfully tried to suggest the word his teammate was fumbling for.
At first he'd actually tried to be helpful, piping in with something that seemed likely given the general context of their circumstances. He'd tried "wave amplifier", "DNA re-sequencer", and "unknown anti-Wraith technology" at various times all in a sincere effort to jump-start McKay's latest diatribe. More often than not he was met with a, "What? No!" or occasionally, "I...do you...that doesn't even make sense!" But more often than not McKay simply glared silently for several seconds, rolled his eyes heavenward as if seeking pity from a higher power in which he adamantly did not believe, and stormed off in a huff.
It was the latter response that, as far as Sheppard was concerned, changed the rules entirely.
After that point Sheppard decided to turn the whole thing into an ongoing game of Mad Libs. His "helpful" suggestions became increasingly absurd. He figured that if he couldn't accurately predict whatever it was that McKay was trying to get across, at least he could amuse himself and the rest of his team. That it had the added benefit of often sending Rodney into a round of stammering hysterics was just the cherry on top.
When Ronon began to play as well it was all Teyla could do to keep the ever-agitated scientist from quitting the team. She would give the other two men a stern look and intone, "I do not think thatis what Rodney is trying to say at all." That was generally a good indicator that they were reaching the McKay Red Zone and they should draw that particular day's festivities to a close.
Of course any game required both rules and a scoring system and this one was no different. The first and most important rule was that the word or phrase had to be delivered with a completely straight face. The second was that you couldn't repeat a word you'd already used nor one that your competitor had. Each suggestion had to be as unique as a snowflake.
After that the rules became somewhat more esoteric and subject to change. Indeed often Ronon and Sheppard would meet just after a briefing to lay out which set would be in play on any given mission. Sometimes they left the field wide open, and other times they set strict parameters like, "only things that are blue" or "only people or things that have tried to kill Rodney".
Scoring, however, was simple; points were awarded for every interesting shade from red to purple his face became during any given round. Ten points went to the one who inspired the most insulting verbal abuse in return, and twenty to the man capable of either reducing McKay to complete incoherence or sending him off to the rear of the Puddle Jumper to pout.
***
“I do know what you speak of.” Teyla chose her words carefully, but if Rodney noticed her reticence, it didn’t register on his face. “Sometimes affection is expressed in unusual ways.”
Rodney blinked for several long seconds before he could find words. “Let me get this straight: you think John is pulling my pigtails?”
Rodney sounded offended at the suggestion, that much she could tell, but Teyla didn’t understand what the tails of swine had to do with some harmless teasing.
“I am not sure I understand you,” she admitted wearily, and fought the urge to roll her eyes. Someday she would no longer have to utter this sentence. That day was nearer than it had been when she first met Rodney McKay, but it still felt a long way off.
“It means… cruelty as a means of flirting.” Rodney mumbled the words hurriedly and coughed to cover his blush.
“I believe Colonel Sheppard and Ronon intend neither cruelty nor flirtation.”
Rodney growled. The conversation was taking a turn for the worse, she just knew it. She also knew the best way to diffuse the ticking bomb of Rodney’s fragile ego was, surprisingly enough, with touch. For all the man’s lack of physical sagacity, a warm hard on the middle of his back, or a soft grip on his forearm had all the calming effect of a cup of fresh Athosian mint tea. This time she gripped his shoulder, firmly but gently, and turned him to face her.
“Rodney, they are like family to you, are they not?”
“No. I mean, yes.”
“And I would guess that at some point in your childhood you teased your sister to the point of tears without meaning to.”
“Are you kidding? I did that last week, but that’s different.”
Teyla quirked an eyebrow and her lips slid into a half smile, but her voice remained sympathetic. “Different how?”
“I wasn’t trying to make my sister cry. But Sheppard and Ronon are clearly, clearly, trying to annoy me. They even seem to get some sort of sick, perverse, twisted joy out of it.”
Teyla released her grip on Rodney’s arm, and turned to stare at the Atlantian wall behind him. Emotional conversations with the man were often like intricate mazes, and today she found herself at yet another dead end.
As she attempted to regroup her thoughts and find another tack, Ronon passed by in the hall with Lorne, bragging loudly.
“So then Sheppard suggested ‘Satedan Yak milk’ but that’s not technically red until you add in the berries which prevent it from being poisonous to humans. Since he was disqualified, I got the 20 points that day.”
Before Teyla could think of a new way to ease Rodney’s pain, he trotted off after Ronon and Lorne saying, “Wait, what? Satedan Yak milk… that was… this is some sort of game???With scoring???”
Teyla sighed and headed for the training room. She knew of only one way to work off the frustration that any heartfelt talk with Rodney inevitably led to. Well, two ways, really, but none of the men of Atlantis were suitable for the second method and the one woman who might be seemed disinterested in such an arrangement at this time.
***
Rodney slammed his lunch tray down with sufficient force to slosh the remains of his coffee in several different directions. It missed landing in Sheppard's lap by inches. With a quirked eyebrow he drawled, "Ok your grown up table privileges are hereby officially revoked."
McKay's bright blue eyes narrowed and his chin jutted out petulantly. "Oh that's rich! You're actually claiming the maturity high ground here? Huh? You might want to rethink that seeing as I know all about your little game."
The triumphant expression on the astrophysicist’s face prompted Sheppard to turn his attention to Ronon. The warrior merely shrugged and muttered, "He had cookies."
"That is so weak."
"They're double chocolate chunk."
"Really?" Even Sheppard found it difficult to argue with Ronon's logic on that one. "So bribery, last resort of the desperate super genius, huh?"
"First resort, actually," McKay admitted with a nervous twitch of his shoulders. "Oh, c'mon it's not as if threats or physical intimidation were going to work."
"You got that right," Ronon agreed amiably while grabbing another French fry from his plate.
"And I long ago gave up on appeals to reason or fair play." Rodney folded his arms across his broad chest and glowered. "Wait a minute, why am I getting all defensive? You're the one who's been acting like the world's oldest grade-schooler."
"Right, like you're the very epitome of maturity."
"You do realize that you've just eloquently proven my point with an argument that boils down to 'I know you are, but what am I?’, don't you?" Rodney planted both fists on the table and leaned over and glaring at Sheppard in a manner known to have made fully grown biochemists lose all bladder control. "I don't like to think of myself as a petty, vindictive man..."
Ronon snickered, but otherwise refrained from comment.
"…But I am sorely tempted to take this straight to Colonel Carter. I think she'd be absolutely fascinated at how her senior staff members choose to treat their scientific liaisons during critical missions."
Sheppard slouched in his chair and used one of his own French fries to doodle lazy circles with his ketchup. "Tattletale."
Rodney straightened abruptly, his hands balled into white knuckled fists. "I am not a...” He paused, then began again in a lower octave and volume, "I am not a tattletale! I'm a highly respected expert in my field, the leader of the scientific program on this city, and the man who, pretty much single-handedly I might add, keeps us all from sinking to the bottom of the ocean! And this is the treatment I get in return? It's stupid, it's infantile and it's stopping...now. If you need entertainment so badly go pull the wings off flies or kick Athosian puppies instead."
"Jeez, Rodney, way to blow something out of proportion." It was, John thought to himself, McKay's most over-utilized skill. Truth be told the man had missed his calling as an operatic diva.
"I'm not a joke and I won't be turned into one for your amusement, you got that? I deserve better...I demand better. I demand respect, a-and common courtesy, and...."
Sheppard could see the telltale signs of another verbal short out; his mouth was working long before his brain even realized what was happening. "...A kiss?"
Rodney's eyes widened dangerously and his face took on that blank look it got whenever a dozen or so emotions were vying for simultaneous release. "You are...you...” With that the scientist turned on his heel and stalked out of the mess hall without another word.
Sheppard just sat and watched him go with a puzzled look on his face. Where in the hell had that come from? Sure it had become second nature to just blurt out words but never those kinds of words. It was unsettling in itself, but beyond that he was pretty sure he'd just laid down the verbal equivalent of a final straw.
Ronon finally looked up from his own food and gazed at his friend with a single raised eyebrow. "That," he intoned somberly, "was weird."
"Tell me about it." John returned with a sigh.
***
Rodney had never understood playfulness. His only friend in kindergarten gave him a wet willy when they were taking a break from the monkey bars at recess and in retaliation Rodney had bitten the boy's arm. They both went to the school nurse -- Lyle because he needed stitches and Rodney because he was certain he was having an allergic reaction to the blood he'd drawn.
As a result he asked himself three times if his revenge on Ronon and Sheppard was appropriate. The entomology department wasn't likely to miss one small box of specimens from M3X-279, he told himself. And this wasn't the sort of thing that would end in stitches. Calamine lotion, perhaps, but not stitches.
Thus placated, he crept into Sheppard's quarters while he was off training with Ronon, placed half the contents of the box in the man's underwear drawer -- careful not to let any of the bugs come in contact with his skin -- and shut the drawer with an evil, lopsided grin.
"That'll teach you to end my.... Fill in my...."
Blanks, thought Rodney, with a sigh, asentences. For a genius, sometimes he managed to sound like an idiot.
He was outside Ronon's quarters, trying to place the now empty specimen box into his jacket as inconspicuously as possible when Ronon shouldered past him with a grunted, "McKay." Rodney jumped, nearly sending the Plexiglas case tumbling to the floor.
"Hey! Ronon! What's up, big guy? Any new bruises?"
"Not on me" Ronon grinned and shut his door in Rodney's face.
Rodney adopted an air of smug confidence as he made his way back to the entomology department. He was home free.
A few hours later, he'd completely forgotten the prank. He was tucking in to his third helping of Beef Stroganoff, idly wondering if there was any chocolate puddings left, and staring at the nanite neutronium utilization coding on his laptop's monitor.
"Whatcha working on?" Sheppard asked good-naturedly. He took a seat across from McKay and dug into his chocolate pudding with gusto.
"Is that the last one?" Rodney asked, barely glancing up from his monitor.
"The last what?" Sheppard asked, flipping the spoon over and sticking it back in his mouth to extract every last drop of pudding from its surface with expert precision.
"The last...." Rodney gestured, and then realizing he was pausing long enough to indicate he couldn't think of the word, shouted, "PUDDING!" before Sheppard could offer some ridiculous suggestion.
"Easy there, Bucko.” The colonel glanced around the mess to see if anyone had noticed Rodney’s little outburst. “In fact, it is not. I can go get you... ow."
"You can go get me 'ow'?" Rodney asked.
"No, I mean... Ow. Ow as in... DAMMIT! That, that really... hurts!" Sheppard was standing now and sort of slapping at his crotch. But he appeared to be trying to do it in such a way that didn't immediately suggest that he was slapping at his crotch.
And then he fell over, grunting in pain, and sweating.
Ronon approached with a tray piled high with Ballkan meat cakes and extra bowls of barbeque sauce. "What's his problem?" he said, pointing his chin at his leader, writhing on the floor.
"Oh, good, Ronon. You're feeling okay?" McKay asked in a high, pleading voice.
"Would you two... girls," Sheppard gasped, "stop chatting… and help get me to the... infirmary?" He grunted and then began to keen quietly.
"Oh god," McKay groaned, "I knew it."
He and Ronon helped John to his feet and began to ease him down the hall toward Keller's office.
"Ronon, is there any chance you aren't wearing underwear today?" McKay squeaked.
"Yeah. And there's an even better chance I'm going to kill you if you ever ask me about my undergarments again."
***
Sam Carter glanced up as Teyla entered her office. The other woman appeared a bit apprehensive, clearly not altogether certain why she'd been summoned. Sam felt a twinge of regret that she'd not had the time to actually get to know the Athosian in the past few weeks since her posting to Atlantis. In a way Teyla reminded her a little of Daniel, calm, thoughtful and diplomatic to a fault. Though she couldn't quite imagine Teyla lecturing her on 2,000-year-old fertility cults with the same enthusiasm as her former colleague. "Hi Teyla, thank you for coming. I'd, um, well I'd like to get your take on something."
"My 'take'?"
Sam smiled and decided that Teyla had a little in common with Teal'c as well. "I mean your feedback. It's about team dynamics." The darker skinned woman's eyebrows rose sharply. "Your team's dynamics to be precise. When I first arrived here I would've said you were all very cohesive, working together as smoothly as...well, SG-1 used to when I was a member."
"We have learned to appreciate one another’s' abilities and accommodate for those things which each of us lack, is this what you mean?"
"Yes, that's definitely what I used to see, and frankly nobody was more surprised than me to note Rodney fitting in so well."
Teyla seemed genuinely torn between commiserating and defending the scientist. Finally she settled on an enigmatic smile. "Dr. McKay has proven his worth repeatedly over my time on Atlantis. He is really not so very difficult to understand if one makes an effort to do so. However, he can sometimes be quite... trying."
Carter covered a grin by glancing down at her data pad quickly. "The thing is, during mission de-briefs these days I'm sensing a lot of tension between Rodney and John."
"Ah," that one sound told Sam just about everything she needed to know. Teyla must have recognized as much, her placid facade shifted just enough to allow Carter to see that the woman had been well aware of the problem and uncertain how to address it.
"There's also the incident with a certain species of stinging insects which somehow found their way from the entomology department and into Colonel Sheppard's underwear drawer."
Teyla suddenly seemed to find her lap absolutely fascinating.
"Let me be clear about this, Teyla, I've worked on a mostly male team since I joined the SGC. I know what me-, no, what boys can be like after extended periods in close proximity and high stress. I have absolutely no problem with low level pranks and jokes so long as they don't interfere with the mission or start to dissolve unit cohesion." Sam paused and wondered exactly when she'd turned into General Hammond rather than her own mother. "But I'm beginning to think something else is going on right now and I want to know if I should be concerned."
"I think.... May, may I be quite frank with you?" At Sam's enthusiastic nod, Teyla continued, "I think that it began as simple teasing which both Ronon and John engage in with me periodically. I do not find it troubling; indeed it seems to be an indication of their friendship towards me. I think I would only be concerned if they ceased to tease me. But I am not Rodney, and sometimes they push him too far because it amuses them to do so and because they honestly do not see how much it hurts him." She paused then shrugged gently. "I do my best to keep them in line, but..."
"But you can only do so much, and you never signed up as team mom. Believe me, I understand all too well."
"Perhaps if I were to speak to John and Rodney separately...and then we were to be assigned a simple mission, something that would take only a few hours and would give us all time to become...cohesive again..." Teyla spread her hands letting Sam fill in the rest for herself.
"A milk run, huh? That's actually not a bad idea. But the last I heard Sheppard and McKay weren't even speaking to each other."
The Athosian smiled in a manner that might have been mistaken for sweet unless one looked at her eyes. "I believe I can handle them."
"I'm sure you can, Teyla. All right, I'll see what I can come up with in the meantime. And, Teyla, thanks for discussing this with me. I know I'm still something of a newbie here and I appreciate your trust and your honesty."
"You have shown yourself to be quite deserving of both, Colonel." Teyla stood in one graceful motion and added, "Now I believe the phrase is, 'wish me luck'."
"Good luck," Sam returned with a smile.
***
M5E-379 had started out promisingly enough. The team walked through the gate to Rodney's sarcastic chirp, "Oh look, Canada again. Yay."
"Hey," Sheppard returned, gazing carefully around the open space near the gate and then turning his attention to the forest of evergreens before them, "at least you never have to worry about getting homesick."
"I left the Great White North for a reason, you know. Once, just once it would be nice to see something a little...different. Would it be too much to ask that one Stargate drop us off in the middle of a beautiful, high-tech, completely pollen and bug-free city?"
The banter seemed a little off, but it was so close to the normal give and take between the two that everyone pretended nothing was wrong.
"Why not ask for it to be entirely inhabited by buxom Amazons with a geek fetish while you're at it?" That earned a thoughtful look from McKay and rolled eyes from Teyla. Ronon, on the other hand, just grinned wolfishly. "So you wanna tell us which direction we're heading in?"
"What? Oh, right," McKay pulled out his scanner and tapped it before groaning, "you'll never guess." He pointed with obvious dismay at the forest. "I'm probably going to end up covered in this miserable planet's version of poison ivy. Or bitten by giant, blood thirsty insects..."
"Or both," Ronon added helpfully.
"Oh thank you so much. You're a constant source of comfort to me, have I mentioned that lately? By the way lots of life signs ahead of us and not all of them are humanoid." He glanced up at Sheppard and muttered, "Some of them are very...large."
"Probably this world's equivalent of cows, McKay. Trust me, it'll be fine. Just a nice leisurely walk in the woods."
Ronon and Rodney made such similarly disbelieving snorts that they exchanged a startled look. Then the scientist clutched his scanner like a shield and his eyes darted from one team member to the other. "You're all clear on the fact that if I get eaten the progress of scientific advancement in the Pegasus Galaxy is going to come to a screeching halt, right? And I'd just like to re-affirm that the idea of a posthumous Nobel holds about zero interest for me. Right. Ok. I'll just um..." He moved into the center of the group and consulted his scanner once more. "It's that way." His hand waved in the general direction of the trees in front of them.
Sheppard, cradling his P90 in an effort to appear completely casual and unconcerned, took the lead. He seemed to be gazing around at the scenery as if the team were doing nothing more dangerous than taking a pleasant nature hike back on Earth. In reality his eyes were busily scanning the surroundings for any hint of danger, and the grip on his gun kept his hands from straying down to scratch his crotch. Not exactly the sort of thing destined to make a good impression on the natives.
Ronon and Teyla flanked McKay who'd begun a litany of complaints as soon as they'd walked under the tree cover. "I honestly don't know what Sam was thinking sending us out on such a pointless waste of time. If there was anything of value in that temple the last team would've found it and it's not like we need to worry about trading partners any more so why are we even here?"
"Perhaps there is some hidden value to the planet that the survey team did not discover?"
Rodney threw his arms wide as if addressing the entire planet as a whole, "Sure, maybe if we suddenly decide to build an 18th century style Navy we'd find the lumber very valuable. This is the sort of thing that Bellings and his little soft sciences anthropology posse just eat right up with a spoon; they should be here, not me. I could be in my lab right now coming up with the next brilliant defense against the Replicators but instead I'm dodging pinecones. If ever I needed definitive proof that a loving deity doesn't exist, this is it."
"I like the fresh air," Ronon said, picking up a pine needle and chewing it thoughtfully.
"You would, and what the hell are you doing? You don't know where that needle's been or what's stepped on it. It could be carrying any number of unknown, potentially life-threatening...."
"Rodney," Sheppard cut in, turning to face the flushed scientist, "enough."
McKay's mouth pressed into a firm, unhappy line. "Fine. Fine, see if I care if the big lug ends up hospitalized. I can't promise to refrain from saying ‘I told you so’ when I come to visit, though."
"Fair enough," Ronon agreed with a lazy grin.
"I believe we are not far from the village." Teyla added with a slightly strained smile of her own.
"Well then," Sheppard said, taking the lead once more, "let's go see what the wheel of fortune has in store for us this time around."
***
Three hours, a short but pleasant lunch, and several delightful conversations later; Sheppard noticed Rodney stalking out of the wood and thatch "temple" with an expression of bored disdain on his features. A bored Rodney was a sulky Rodney, and John was incredibly grateful they'd been able to take the Stargate. A long ride home in a jumper with McKay in a snit just didn't bear thinking about.
"Total bust, these people are stupid as sticks and twice as dull."
"Rodney!"
"What?" The scientist gave Sheppard a careless shrug. "Holding a conversation with one of them is about as intellectually stimulating as trying to nail Jell-o to the wall. Ooh,
Jell-o, I'm starving. Do you suppose they'll have the blue kind? All they had was yellow yesterday and as I've said many times yellow is the color of the Devil."
John rolled his eyes and sighed, "So we're done here?"
"I certainly am and, again, hungry so let's get back to the gate."
Sheppard barely bit back a groan; bored, sulky and hungry, the perfect McKay trifecta. It was going to be a long walk back.
“Where are Ronon and Teyla?”
John smiled and settled the sunglasses that had been perched on his head back over his eyes. “Last I saw ‘em Teyla was chatting up the head man. She thinks we might actually be able to score some Chika beans in exchange for a few doses of penicillin and some basic medical supplies.”
“And this is a good thing because…?”
“No idea, but Teyla seemed happy about it.”
“Well I guess if Teyla’s happy…” Rodney had managed to put the oddest mix of sarcasm and sincerity into that simple statement causing John to raise a puzzled eyebrow. Just when he thought he’d read the entire Rodney McKay user’s manual the guy would do or say something that had him reaching for the latest edition.
“I think Ronon’s off playing cowboy,” John blurted out, feeling like he should finish his answer.
“They actually have cows here?” There’s an obvious undertone of ‘steak, steak, steak!’ in Rodney’s voice.
“Um, kinda’. They’re actually sort of like hairy brontosauruses…brontosauri…whatever. They’re called Helle-something or other, but I thought I’d just go with ‘Banthas’.”
“Yes,” Rodney sneered, shoving his scanner into a vest pocket, “you would.”
An uncomfortable silence descended between them, punctuated only by the sounds of the village and the braying of Sheppard’s Banthas. John shuffled and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Things had gone surprisingly weird with a suddenness that made him a little sad.
“Shouldn’t we, ah…” Rodney began tentatively.
“Head back, yeah.” The sharp, angry glance he received made Sheppard tense. “Sorry, habit.” With a sigh he tapped his earpiece and muttered, “Ronon, we’re heading back to the gate.”
“Busy now,” Dex growled in return.
John straightened abruptly. “Good busy or bad busy?”
At first all he got in response was a muffled grunt, then finally Ronon replied, “Good. Real good.”
“O-kay.” John was trying desperately to parse that response in a way that didn’t lead his brain down a decidedly disturbing path. “Um, see you at the gate then.” He spared a quick glance at Rodney, who was beginning to pace in a small, tight circle. Not good, not good at all. Tapping his radio again, John muttered, “Teyla, we’re really ready to head back now.”
“I will be with you shortly.”
The tone was just a little off. It was a bit too light and breezy, neither quality he’d come to expect from her. The gravity of her voice and bearing was sometimes the only thing that could keep him grounded. And he’d begun to wonder if maybe there was something more to this world than they thought. Something capable of the sort of weird mind-fuckery he’d once thought restricted to the realm of science fiction…or SG-1 field reports.
“Perhaps we should simply meet at the gate?” She sounded a lot more normal in that query, back to being the bedrock of pragmatism he’d come to rely on.
So why did he have the weirdest feeling that she was stalling?
“Sure, sure we’ll, ah, meet you there then.” Something was totally going on, and if it involved some kind of spores, or god forbid, bugs he was going to indulge in the mother of all hissy fits. A true grand mal freak-out that would put Rodney’s typical hysterics to shame. It was only fair; he’d earned it.
“What the hell?” McKay grumbled, throwing his arms wide. “Is it just me or is this turning into a bad Star Trek episode?”
“It’s not just you. I’m hoping it’s one of the funny episodes, personally.”
“And what are the chances of that? I’ll tell you, not very good. You know what? Screw this, whatever weirdness is going on here really doesn’t interest me. What does interest me is a hot meal, followed by a hot shower, and then maybe, just maybe, accomplishing something meaningful with what remains of today.” He began stomping off into the woods, pausing just long enough to throw over his shoulder, “Well, are you coming or not?”
Sheppard felt his shoulders droop, he’d been hoping for a little insulation between himself and the increasingly annoyed scientist. Just the two of them alone seemed like a disaster waiting to happen, one of those messy disasters that would inevitably lead to somebody like Dr. Parrish ending up on his team in the not too distant future. John really, really didn’t want a botanist on his team. He’d never hear the end of it from Lorne.
"Well," Rodney sighed as they tromped through the undergrowth together, "this is awkward."
John really hadn't wanted to be the one to say it; fortunately that was rarely a problem around McKay. "At least the mission's gone ok." He let the final "so far" hang silently in the air between them.
"And what mission was that, exactly? The walk from the gate through the woods mission? The stand around scanning an empty temple mission? Or perhaps the all-important negotiating for beans mission? I...there just are no words to describe how frustrating these pointless milk ru-...Wait a minute. That's what this is, isn't it? Sam and Teyla probably cooked it up in lieu of a team drumming circle or something."
He was right, of course, and Sheppard mentally kicked himself for not seeing it sooner. "Could've been worse, I guess."
"Oh really, how?"
"They could've locked us in a conference room and made us talk about our feelings for a couple of hours."
"You mean they could've tried to do that, but Sam knows full well it'd take me roughly five minutes to break out. I'd be on the lam long before she even got the internal sensors back online. She's brilliant, don't get me wrong, but I wrote most of those systems and she's still nosing her way through four years worth of my particular brand of genius." McKay halted abruptly and folded his arms over his chest. "She's so getting a piece of my mind for this whole fiasco when we get back! And with just the right application of guilt and apoplexy I may just get that Aeron chair I requisitioned ten months ago."
"I guess the old McKay charm kinda failed you on that one, huh?"
"Please, I leave charm to overly coiffed flyboys with suicidal streaks." He gave Sheppard a significant look before continuing; "The blunt force of my intellect has served me perfectly well over the years. And where that's failed yelling and whining generally succeed."
Sheppard couldn't really argue with that, he'd seen McKay browbeat entire military branches into doing his evil bidding through that disturbingly effective combination. Rodney was as understated as a tactical nuke, and as far as he was concerned a little collateral damage to those who stood between him and one of his desires was par for the course. It was just eggs and omelets to his mind, and god help you if you ended up in the former part of that equation.
With that thought John realized he was getting hungry too and dug out a Powerbar.
"So what are you going to ask for?"
Sheppard blinked and asked, "Huh?"
"When we get back," Rodney had slipped effortlessly into the 'god why are you so dumb?' tone. "It's the perfect opportunity to hit Sam up for anything you and your grunts have been pining for from the back of the latest edition of Guns and Ammo. I'm sure there's some sexy little RPG you've had your eyes on for a while now."
"Actually I was kind of hoping to get my hands on a few more Zats. They're nice and compact, but they pack a helluva’ punch. I'm wondering how effective they'd be on a Wraith."
"Hmm..." The scientist raised a finger to his lips, lost in thought. "You know I've been
thinking we should run some more standardized tests on our weapons' effectiveness on the Wraith rather than just shooting at them whenever they pop up and hoping like hell they die or at least fall over for a while. I could go through Carson's notes on Michael's physiology, maybe create a few simulations running through all the known parameters for drones and queens. We start inputting all the standard issue weapons then I could cross-reference with the databases at Area 51 for the more exotic stuff. God I'm going to need to pull Miko off a couple of projects but she's not working on anything vital at the moment. And by 'vital' I mean short-term survival-wise, of course. Because there's not a single project my team's working on that isn't vital in the long-term. But when it comes to priorities, the most effective method of killing Wraith before they can kill us is pretty near the top of the list. Right after not blowing ourselves up or sinking the city to the bottom of the ocean."
When McKay paused for breath John just grinned at him until the scientist barked, "What?"
"Nothing."
"No, seriously, what?"
"I was just thinking with your lung capacity you must be a helluva swimmer."
"You know I'm really beginning to think that decades of over exposure to high cost hair products has begun to have a detrimental effect on your higher cognitive functions. It's almost tragic, really, but on the plus side, in your line of work, it'll hardly even be noticeable. I'd recommend cutting back on the gel a little; it might slow the degeneration incrementally."
"I'll keep that in mind," John returned, still grinning in a decidedly goofy manner. McKay was awfully cute when he was jealous of... His brain paused, rewound that particular thought and ran it again. McKay was awfully cute... Ok that was unexpected. He had no idea when the words 'McKay' and 'cute' became related in his mind. Unless he'd meant it sarcastically, in which case it was totally fine and normal and nothing at all to be worried about.
Unfortunately his momentary panic had made him lose complete track of the conversation, and sadly Rodney had managed to pick up on that fact. "...because my god it's not like I ever have anything important to say. You're probably dreaming about the last alien princess who waved her heaving bosoms at you. Or golf which is, I'd like to point out, slightly less of an actual sport than, say, ice dancing. And are you even listening to a word I say?"
Sheppard squinted back, then drawled, "Is that a trick question?"
"That's just...you are...I can't believe I..." Rodney'd begun pacing and wrung his hands together as if squeezing the life out of an invisible fairy, slowly. "You know what? I don't need this. I actually have real contributions I could be making. Important scientific contributions! I have papers to write and simulations to run and, and scientists to...to..."
"Spank?" No one could've been more shocked by what had come out of Sheppard's mouth than he was. Maybe it was the hair gel after all, seeping into his skull and melting his brain. It was the only viable explanation for why he'd said that...and why he'd even briefly thought McKay was cute.
Rodney had turned a fascinating shade of vermillion, his eyes so wide they almost seemed to be popping out of his head like an old Warner Brothers cartoon character. He shook one finger dangerously close to John's nose for several seconds before making an inarticulate, choking squeak, turned on his heel, and stalked off into the woods.
"Rodney, wait I…. Come on, Rodney it was an accident. Maybe the natives slipped me something in my lunch. Would you just please slow down?"
From somewhere ahead in the dense growth he thought he heard another squeak, though this one was much less 'aneurism-inducing rage' and a little closer to 'losing all bladder control terror'. When Sheppard caught up to him it became immediately apparent why, somehow the man had managed to walk directly into one of the furry brontosaurus creatures.
"So on a scale from one to oh my god, just how screwed am I right now?" McKay's voice did that little throaty warble that always made Sheppard feel the insane need to wrap the scientist in a nice warm blanket and hand him a teddy bear.
"Um..." John's hazel eyes tore themselves away from the petrified man to gaze far up into the treetops.
"Oh god, oh god I'm a dead man aren't I? And I'm going to die hungry in the woods...on a milk run...for beans!"
"I think it would be really good if you stayed calm and possibly quiet." John began to angle his body and brought his firearm to bear on the creature.
"Yeah," Rodney moaned, "'cause that's really likely to happen."
"Just this once," Sheppard gritted in return, racking his brain for every bit of information he should've been paying attention to about the Banthas when the nice natives fed him lunch, "make an effort."
"What do you...." McKay began again in a much softer voice, "What do you think I'm doing? This is as calm and quiet as I get when I've inadvertently walked into a giant cow monster. And I presume that's what I'm leaning against, right? A cow monster. A nice, big, dumb, gentle cow monster."
"Well that's definitely a Bantha but even big, dumb, gentle monsters can hurt you so let's just take things nice and slow, ok? Why don't you take a little step closer to me?"
"Um, are you sure that's a good idea?"
"It's that or stand under the cow monster all day, your call."
"I just," Rodney paused and then took the smallest step possible towards Sheppard. When nothing immediately fatal happened he continued, "I just wanted to be sure you were sure. About the walking I mean. Because right now I'd be all in favor of running, personally."
"And you may just get your chance. Thing is we don't want to spook it."
"Oh by all means let's not scare the giant monster. Have you even been around livestock before? Or are you basing this on all the westerns you saw as a kid?"
Sheppard watched the other man take two more small, careful steps. "Actually my family owned horses, been around them most of my life. So yes, I know a little bit about large, easily spooked animals."
"Really? Horses? Like on a ranch?"
"Not exactly." John grimaced, wondering idly if Canadians were generally convinced that all Americans lived on ranches.
"Elaborate please." McKay's eyes were boring into his own. "Seriously, one it's keeping me calm, and two you never talk about your family and there might be one or two inter-departmental bets riding on the outcome of this conversation."
"Fine, just... just keep walking slowly, ok?" After a quick, nervous nod, John sighed and said, "My family owned a bunch of estates and on two of them we had pastures big enough to keep a few pleasure horses."
"Estates? You grew up on estates? Should I be referring to you as 'your lordship'?"
"Only if you want me to punch you in the face."
"Right. Ok. That's... hmm, well I'll admit there were one or two bets that you were an international playboy as well as an intergalactic one. Guess they're taking the pot. Fair enough. I should've stuck with my original Bruce Wayne theory; I think that would've been close enough to count. Your parents weren't murdered in a tragic manner just after you saw the movie Top Gun by any chance, were they?"
"No Rodney, and I'd like to point out that this is a great example of why I don't talk about my past a lot."
"I thought you were just going for an air of mystery to sort of round out your cooler-than-thou persona," McKay returned testily. "And you do realize if we survive this I'm totally off the team, right?"
"Can we maybe discuss this somewhere far away from the cow monster?"
The other man's chin jumped up, and from its relative angle Sheppard could tell that Rodney was about to dig his heels in about this. "There's nothing to discuss. This isn't working and as I've said there are far more productive ways I could be spending my time. I'll get you someone better suited to the 'team dynamic'. Maybe Parrish. I know how much you've wanted a botanist of your very own."
John groaned aloud, Rodney could be such a vindictive bastard sometimes. Before he could respond with a rather viciously worded recommendation that he assign Katie Brown instead, both men heard a weird rumbling roar heading in their direction from the village. Unfortunately the Bantha heard it too and reacted with completely predictable alarm. John immediately realized the futility of even attempting to take the thing down with a P90, and made a grab for Rodney's arm. He caught it, but not before the furry behemoth lurched into motion and clipped the scientist hard enough to send him flying. Sheppard held on, getting dragged several feet, but managing to keep the other man from impacting with a tree. Or, at least, a big tree.
He bit his lip and stared down at the moaning scientist just as Ronon jogged up to the pair holding what looked like a giant horn. The Satedan grinned proudly and proclaimed, "Did you hear that? I summoned the herd!"
"Oh we heard it all right," Sheppard muttered and briefly considered smacking the taller man on the back of the head. Between the dreds, the concealed weaponry there and the very real possibility of getting hit in return, hard, he thought better of it.
"Did you break McKay?" Ronon looked annoyingly disappointed in him.
On to Part Two
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Date: 2008-04-15 08:08 pm (UTC)We should reward ourselves by finishing that mixed CD. :)
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Date: 2008-04-16 06:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-22 11:17 am (UTC)Much love!