Hospitality by villainny (PG-13)
Jun. 8th, 2009 03:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
danceswithgary posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
stargateficrecRec Category: Sheppard/McKay
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay
Category: Humor, Romance
Warning: Slash
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
villainny
Author's Website: http://unseen-writings.livejournal.com/profile?mode=full
Link: Hospitality
Why This Must Be Read:
A sweet and funny variation on the 'Aliens Made Them Do It' trope, in this story the aliens make Rodney...take a vacation. How John copes with his friend's absence, along with the horror of Rodney discovering that time spent away from Atlantis isn't such a bad thing after all, makes for an amusing and heartwarming tale.
Excerpt:
The urge had started pretty much as soon as they set foot through the gate.
P7Y-685 wasn’t anything special, as far as John could see, but the meadow that the Stargate stood in was hip-deep in tall grass and wildflowers. Kind of pretty, actually, but Rodney reared back fast enough to nearly head butt him in the face and Ronon had to grab hold of Teyla’s arm as she avoided John’s clumsy sidestep.
“What the hell, McKay?”
“Do you have any idea how -” Rodney shrugged his arm out of his pack, quickly swinging it to the ground and rummaging through it – “how potentially allergic I could – have you ever seen a severe allergic reaction, Colonel?” He let out a triumphant noise, holding something over his head with one hand while still pawing through the pack with the other. “Take this, would you? I’m not sure you’re the most reliable but you’re certainly the only one with adequate pockets.”
Rodney flicked a glance sideways – not wanting to have Ronon menace him over insulting Satedan pockets, or something – but Ronon’s hand was still wrapped around Teyla’s arm, even though she’d clearly caught her balance, in a way that made her look even tinier than she already was; it really didn’t look like the big guy was paying attention.
John took the Epi-pen and looked at it, one eyebrow raised.
“I don’t have to give you the lecture again, do I?” Rodney’s blue eyes were fixed on his face, the pack of antihistamines that he’d apparently been searching for clutched in one square hand, and there was something ever so slightly brittle about his expression until John shook his head.
“I know how to use it.”
“Good,” Rodney said, turning back to his pack and cinching it closed again, “good. Put it somewhere you can reach it easily or I’ll rethink the whole Ascension thing just so I can come back and make your life hell.”
“I think I’m flattered.”
Rodney scowled at him, but kept his mouth shut as John made a point of dropping the pen into the front pocket of his vest. It clacked softly, resting up against the one that had been there ever since their second mission together.
“Good,” Rodney said again softly, absently, and then clapped his hands together. “Right. Ready to go forth and meet the natives?” And you’d think, from the tone of his voice, that they’d been the ones to hold him up. John pulled his aviators out of the pocket of his vest, folding them open as slowly as he could and sliding them onto his face.
He figured it was probably best to keep his hands occupied.
The walk to the village was pretty uneventful after that. Ronon and Teyla were out in front, his head bent close to hers, and Rodney was a persistent buzz in John’s left ear. Life signs readings, allergens, blisters, musings on various of the science projects back home on Atlantis; John pretty much tuned in and out, contributing on the rare occasions where it seemed to be expected and almost making Rodney trip over once when he corrected mistaken math. For someone who talked so much, the guy always seemed a little surprised when people turned out to be listening, but the truth was that there was something kind of relaxing about it. It was silences that you had to look out for with Rodney; all the many fucked-up fates that silently underlined what he didn’t say.
There was no place for silences here, though. When they eventually reached the village, solid looking stone-built houses with scorch-marks every now and again to prove that the smiles on the faces of the folks who lived there were hard-won, the villagers lived up to the way Teyla had painted them. If anything they were more welcoming, ushering the team into one of the largest houses to meet and greet and be invited to dine with some kind of mayor type and his family.
‘As much of a dinner as can be managed on such short notice,’ they were promised, with apologetic looks and much bowing, but the feast that met them even shut Rodney up for a minute or two.
“This is all for us?” he asked John, awed, and “back off, Chewie, I saw it first.” He elbowed Ronon in the side and took his seat at the table first, mouth full and chewing happily before everyone else had even taken their seats.
“Rodney,” John drawled, warningly, and he was backed up by Teyla.
“Do not forget you must be careful, Rodney,” but all she got in reply was the wave of a pseudo-fork.
“Yes, yes. I have you to keep an eye on me, don’t I?” Which he did. That was what they were for, and John quirked a fond, lopsided smile as he filled his own plate and made what passed for polite conversation at these things.
Eventually, after discussion of the crops and the weather and the weather when they harvested the crops, even Ronon was defeated by the mountains of food that heaped the scratched wooden table, the flickering fire and candlelight contributing to a kind of amiable lethargy. Rodney, unburdened by the sort of regard for first impressions that kept John vaguely presentable, subtly undid the button on his BDUs and smirked, letting out a satisfied sigh.
“That was the best meal I’ve had in a long time. I should stay here longer,” and John’s head jerked up, and Teyla’s chair clattered to the floor as she jumped to her feet, but Rodney continued before they could stop him. “I’m going to have to stay here a month at least to diges-”
That was when Teyla’s small hand slapped over his mouth, but it was already too late. The mayor guy, Mantel, was rising out of his chair, bowing jerkily to Rodney with a pinched expression on his face.
“Very well,” he said. “My wife will ready the first guest chamber for you, Dr. Rodney McKay.”
“What?” Rodney yelped, caught in the middle of yanking Teyla’s hand away from his mouth. He looked from the mayor to John, eyes wide and confused. “Wait, what?”
“I warned you to be careful,” Teyla said sharply, and John had to sit on his hands.
...
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay
Category: Humor, Romance
Warning: Slash
Author on LJ:
villainnyAuthor's Website: http://unseen-writings.livejournal.com/profile?mode=full
Link: Hospitality
Why This Must Be Read:
A sweet and funny variation on the 'Aliens Made Them Do It' trope, in this story the aliens make Rodney...take a vacation. How John copes with his friend's absence, along with the horror of Rodney discovering that time spent away from Atlantis isn't such a bad thing after all, makes for an amusing and heartwarming tale.
Excerpt:
The urge had started pretty much as soon as they set foot through the gate.
P7Y-685 wasn’t anything special, as far as John could see, but the meadow that the Stargate stood in was hip-deep in tall grass and wildflowers. Kind of pretty, actually, but Rodney reared back fast enough to nearly head butt him in the face and Ronon had to grab hold of Teyla’s arm as she avoided John’s clumsy sidestep.
“What the hell, McKay?”
“Do you have any idea how -” Rodney shrugged his arm out of his pack, quickly swinging it to the ground and rummaging through it – “how potentially allergic I could – have you ever seen a severe allergic reaction, Colonel?” He let out a triumphant noise, holding something over his head with one hand while still pawing through the pack with the other. “Take this, would you? I’m not sure you’re the most reliable but you’re certainly the only one with adequate pockets.”
Rodney flicked a glance sideways – not wanting to have Ronon menace him over insulting Satedan pockets, or something – but Ronon’s hand was still wrapped around Teyla’s arm, even though she’d clearly caught her balance, in a way that made her look even tinier than she already was; it really didn’t look like the big guy was paying attention.
John took the Epi-pen and looked at it, one eyebrow raised.
“I don’t have to give you the lecture again, do I?” Rodney’s blue eyes were fixed on his face, the pack of antihistamines that he’d apparently been searching for clutched in one square hand, and there was something ever so slightly brittle about his expression until John shook his head.
“I know how to use it.”
“Good,” Rodney said, turning back to his pack and cinching it closed again, “good. Put it somewhere you can reach it easily or I’ll rethink the whole Ascension thing just so I can come back and make your life hell.”
“I think I’m flattered.”
Rodney scowled at him, but kept his mouth shut as John made a point of dropping the pen into the front pocket of his vest. It clacked softly, resting up against the one that had been there ever since their second mission together.
“Good,” Rodney said again softly, absently, and then clapped his hands together. “Right. Ready to go forth and meet the natives?” And you’d think, from the tone of his voice, that they’d been the ones to hold him up. John pulled his aviators out of the pocket of his vest, folding them open as slowly as he could and sliding them onto his face.
He figured it was probably best to keep his hands occupied.
The walk to the village was pretty uneventful after that. Ronon and Teyla were out in front, his head bent close to hers, and Rodney was a persistent buzz in John’s left ear. Life signs readings, allergens, blisters, musings on various of the science projects back home on Atlantis; John pretty much tuned in and out, contributing on the rare occasions where it seemed to be expected and almost making Rodney trip over once when he corrected mistaken math. For someone who talked so much, the guy always seemed a little surprised when people turned out to be listening, but the truth was that there was something kind of relaxing about it. It was silences that you had to look out for with Rodney; all the many fucked-up fates that silently underlined what he didn’t say.
There was no place for silences here, though. When they eventually reached the village, solid looking stone-built houses with scorch-marks every now and again to prove that the smiles on the faces of the folks who lived there were hard-won, the villagers lived up to the way Teyla had painted them. If anything they were more welcoming, ushering the team into one of the largest houses to meet and greet and be invited to dine with some kind of mayor type and his family.
‘As much of a dinner as can be managed on such short notice,’ they were promised, with apologetic looks and much bowing, but the feast that met them even shut Rodney up for a minute or two.
“This is all for us?” he asked John, awed, and “back off, Chewie, I saw it first.” He elbowed Ronon in the side and took his seat at the table first, mouth full and chewing happily before everyone else had even taken their seats.
“Rodney,” John drawled, warningly, and he was backed up by Teyla.
“Do not forget you must be careful, Rodney,” but all she got in reply was the wave of a pseudo-fork.
“Yes, yes. I have you to keep an eye on me, don’t I?” Which he did. That was what they were for, and John quirked a fond, lopsided smile as he filled his own plate and made what passed for polite conversation at these things.
Eventually, after discussion of the crops and the weather and the weather when they harvested the crops, even Ronon was defeated by the mountains of food that heaped the scratched wooden table, the flickering fire and candlelight contributing to a kind of amiable lethargy. Rodney, unburdened by the sort of regard for first impressions that kept John vaguely presentable, subtly undid the button on his BDUs and smirked, letting out a satisfied sigh.
“That was the best meal I’ve had in a long time. I should stay here longer,” and John’s head jerked up, and Teyla’s chair clattered to the floor as she jumped to her feet, but Rodney continued before they could stop him. “I’m going to have to stay here a month at least to diges-”
That was when Teyla’s small hand slapped over his mouth, but it was already too late. The mayor guy, Mantel, was rising out of his chair, bowing jerkily to Rodney with a pinched expression on his face.
“Very well,” he said. “My wife will ready the first guest chamber for you, Dr. Rodney McKay.”
“What?” Rodney yelped, caught in the middle of yanking Teyla’s hand away from his mouth. He looked from the mayor to John, eyes wide and confused. “Wait, what?”
“I warned you to be careful,” Teyla said sharply, and John had to sit on his hands.
...
