Death-Defying Acts by sans_pertinence (R)
Apr. 29th, 2010 03:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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stargateficrecShow: SGA
Rec Category: Sheppard/McKay
Characters:: Rodney McKay, John Sheppard, Teyla Emmagan, Ronon Dex
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay
Het/Slash/Gen: Slash
Warnings:
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sans_pertinence
Author's Website:
Link: Death-Defying Acts
Why This Must Be Read:
John's quite content living in the land of denial until an offworld encounter causes Rodney to start thinking and then upset the status quo. Although John can handle everyday quips and snappy comebacks just fine, he's almost hopeless when it comes to talking about 'stuff' like relationships and feelings. Nevertheless, he and Rodney keep on snarking their way toward an understanding in this sharply amusing post-Shrine offering.
Excerpt:
“So is it just me or was that the creepiest pause ever?” John eyes the pink thing on the end of his spork. When it doesn’t do anything but sit there, he sticks it in his mouth.
“It was... unsettling,” says Teyla. “I am not sure creepy is the word I would choose.”
“Works for me,” Ronon says around a mouthful of something that looks like stew.
“Yes, because like the Colonel you have no imagination.” McKay slaps his tray down on the table and drops into the seat next to John. “You want creepy?” he points his spork at Ronon, “I’ll give you creepy. Simpson thinks that aside from ascension, the lab’s primary focus was fertility. Or, more to the point, the lack thereof.”
“So?”
“So, those people’s ancestors were glorified lab rats. The Ancients played hell with their genome in the interests of slowed reproduction. Staggered sterility, or something like that.” McKay smirks and sucks down a bite of maybe-stew. “Keller’s drooling already.”
“That seems in keeping with their offworld colony,” Teyla says. “The population on Vartha is low, even for a culled planet.”
John tilts his chair back onto two legs and McKay says, "Don't do that, it's annoying."
"Way to make me stop, McKay."
"You're five, aren't you?"
"I know you are but what am I?"
"I take it back, you're three at the most," McKay says, disgusted. "Go ahead. Crack your skull open if you want to so badly."
"John," Teyla says, a mix of exasperation and amusement. John lets the chair's front legs down.
"Sorry," he grins at her, unrepentant. McKay sniffs loudly and starts to say something that turns into "Hey!" when Ronon kicks him under the table.
John hunches forward, props his elbows on the table. "So, Vartha. They're okay with the trade agreement, right? The grain's coming from them."
"Seemed okay," Ronon says. "Farmers," and there's a world of meaning in that one word.
Teyla's smile flickers around the corners of her mouth. "Ronon is correct. The Varthan will honor any agreement Renatus makes."
"I'm hearing a very loud but in there," McKay says.
"Your hearing is very good," Teyla says, her smile turning rueful. "I believe the Varthan are uncomfortable that we so easily gained entrance to Renatus. They are a devout people. They revere the Ancestors and Renatus is almost holy to them." Frustration ladders her forehead; John remembers when there were fewer lines. “If we had gated directly to Vartha rather than M26-998, it would have been some time before we learned of Renatus' existence, if ever.”
That's a little too close to the Genii for John's taste, and he says so.
“It is caution, nothing more," Teyla disagrees. "The Varthan are much as my people became after the cullings took so many.”
The pink things turn green when repeatedly poked. Cool. “You guys were pretty forthcoming.”
"Our situation was different." Teyla pushes John’s hand away and scoops the pink/green things onto her tray. “When your expedition arrived in Atlantis, Athosia was no more than a few scattered encampments. Renatus is fully populated and the seat of Varthan government and religion.”
“Mecca,” McKay says. John flicks a bread pellet at him. He scowls and flicks it back. “What, I’m not allowed to draw cultural parallels, either?”
“I’ll add it to the list,” John says dryly. “Is any of this going to come back around and bite us on the ass?" he asks Teyla. "Woolsey wants more than maybe, and I won’t advise wasting finite resources on a long shot.”
Teyla doesn't answer immediately, the lines back on her forehead. “I am not sure,” she eventually says. “Statesman Cadvor introduced me to the head of their church and I spoke with two lay priests on Vartha. I felt no hostility from them, overt or otherwise, but their reluctance to allow us unrestricted access to the city was obvious.”
“Which means what?” McKay abandons his tray and picks up his cup. He’s still frowning, looks as enthused about the pink whatevers as John feels. “Pitchforks and torches at midnight? Tar and feathers and you have trespassed upon the sanctuary, never darken our gate address again?”
“They’ll let us back in,” John says. “Their secretary of state’s crushing hard on you.”
McKay’s coffee damage radius is half their table and a third of the next one. Stackhouse turns around in his seat. Looks like he’s gonna need a uniform change. Whoops.
“Tar and feathers,” Ronon repeats. McKay’s still sputtering. “Sounds a lot like clay mud, honey and linguan moss.”
“Kinky.”
“When the women did it, yeah.”
McKay splits his glare between Ronon and John. "Hello, some of us are still trying to eat, trying being the operative word. Last I checked, Satedan torture wasn't on the menu."
It's mean, yeah, but... “We could always talk about farewell procedures in Renatus."
Ronon snorts and Teyla smiles at the table, and McKay? He’s got fair skin. Maybe all that red is the sunburn he keeps bitching about.
“Fascinating as this has been,” he says, not meeting anyone’s eyes, “I’m three days behind on projects currently being overseen by incompetents and people with inferior minds. Speaking of which, Sheppard, I’m going to need you to—”
“Sorry.” John pushes his chair back and stands. “Dr. Prasad already asked.”
McKay looks like someone just smacked him with a two by four. “What? Since when does geology get you?”
“Since now.”
“Prasad can have you later,” McKay says, a snotty, overgrown kid who never learned to share. “It’s geology, how important can it be?”
“Tell that to California.” Or Taranis. “You’ve got the gene—turn your whatever-it-is on yourself.”
“I already tried.”
Ronon scrapes his chair back. “Try harder. See you, Sheppard." He nods at Teyla, dumps his tray and leaves, the mess crowd parting around him like a bunch of people who know that if they don’t move they will soon be moved, and it will hurt. A lot.
Teyla rises and circles the table. “I will see you both at the briefing tomorrow?”
“Absolutely."
“Yes of course,” McKay says, flappy and distracted. Teyla smiles and shakes her head at them, and then Corporal Hawkins calls her name and she turns to answer him. They leave together, Hawkins enthusiastically miming some kind of stick fighting maneuver; nothing like getting your ass pounded into the ground on a full stomach.
McKay says, “Why can’t you just—”
“Because I already promised Dr. Prasad. Besides,” John reaches past McKay and grabs his tray, “she asked nicely. So if you'll excuse me, my superior gene and I have a date with the tectonic plate squad.”
John strolls out of the mess with Another One Bites the Dust stuck on replay in his head. He wonders idly if McKay was in an all boys choir way back when. The guy has shrill down to a science.
...
Rec Category: Sheppard/McKay
Characters:: Rodney McKay, John Sheppard, Teyla Emmagan, Ronon Dex
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay
Het/Slash/Gen: Slash
Warnings:
Author on LJ:
sans_pertinenceAuthor's Website:
Link: Death-Defying Acts
Why This Must Be Read:
John's quite content living in the land of denial until an offworld encounter causes Rodney to start thinking and then upset the status quo. Although John can handle everyday quips and snappy comebacks just fine, he's almost hopeless when it comes to talking about 'stuff' like relationships and feelings. Nevertheless, he and Rodney keep on snarking their way toward an understanding in this sharply amusing post-Shrine offering.
Excerpt:
“So is it just me or was that the creepiest pause ever?” John eyes the pink thing on the end of his spork. When it doesn’t do anything but sit there, he sticks it in his mouth.
“It was... unsettling,” says Teyla. “I am not sure creepy is the word I would choose.”
“Works for me,” Ronon says around a mouthful of something that looks like stew.
“Yes, because like the Colonel you have no imagination.” McKay slaps his tray down on the table and drops into the seat next to John. “You want creepy?” he points his spork at Ronon, “I’ll give you creepy. Simpson thinks that aside from ascension, the lab’s primary focus was fertility. Or, more to the point, the lack thereof.”
“So?”
“So, those people’s ancestors were glorified lab rats. The Ancients played hell with their genome in the interests of slowed reproduction. Staggered sterility, or something like that.” McKay smirks and sucks down a bite of maybe-stew. “Keller’s drooling already.”
“That seems in keeping with their offworld colony,” Teyla says. “The population on Vartha is low, even for a culled planet.”
John tilts his chair back onto two legs and McKay says, "Don't do that, it's annoying."
"Way to make me stop, McKay."
"You're five, aren't you?"
"I know you are but what am I?"
"I take it back, you're three at the most," McKay says, disgusted. "Go ahead. Crack your skull open if you want to so badly."
"John," Teyla says, a mix of exasperation and amusement. John lets the chair's front legs down.
"Sorry," he grins at her, unrepentant. McKay sniffs loudly and starts to say something that turns into "Hey!" when Ronon kicks him under the table.
John hunches forward, props his elbows on the table. "So, Vartha. They're okay with the trade agreement, right? The grain's coming from them."
"Seemed okay," Ronon says. "Farmers," and there's a world of meaning in that one word.
Teyla's smile flickers around the corners of her mouth. "Ronon is correct. The Varthan will honor any agreement Renatus makes."
"I'm hearing a very loud but in there," McKay says.
"Your hearing is very good," Teyla says, her smile turning rueful. "I believe the Varthan are uncomfortable that we so easily gained entrance to Renatus. They are a devout people. They revere the Ancestors and Renatus is almost holy to them." Frustration ladders her forehead; John remembers when there were fewer lines. “If we had gated directly to Vartha rather than M26-998, it would have been some time before we learned of Renatus' existence, if ever.”
That's a little too close to the Genii for John's taste, and he says so.
“It is caution, nothing more," Teyla disagrees. "The Varthan are much as my people became after the cullings took so many.”
The pink things turn green when repeatedly poked. Cool. “You guys were pretty forthcoming.”
"Our situation was different." Teyla pushes John’s hand away and scoops the pink/green things onto her tray. “When your expedition arrived in Atlantis, Athosia was no more than a few scattered encampments. Renatus is fully populated and the seat of Varthan government and religion.”
“Mecca,” McKay says. John flicks a bread pellet at him. He scowls and flicks it back. “What, I’m not allowed to draw cultural parallels, either?”
“I’ll add it to the list,” John says dryly. “Is any of this going to come back around and bite us on the ass?" he asks Teyla. "Woolsey wants more than maybe, and I won’t advise wasting finite resources on a long shot.”
Teyla doesn't answer immediately, the lines back on her forehead. “I am not sure,” she eventually says. “Statesman Cadvor introduced me to the head of their church and I spoke with two lay priests on Vartha. I felt no hostility from them, overt or otherwise, but their reluctance to allow us unrestricted access to the city was obvious.”
“Which means what?” McKay abandons his tray and picks up his cup. He’s still frowning, looks as enthused about the pink whatevers as John feels. “Pitchforks and torches at midnight? Tar and feathers and you have trespassed upon the sanctuary, never darken our gate address again?”
“They’ll let us back in,” John says. “Their secretary of state’s crushing hard on you.”
McKay’s coffee damage radius is half their table and a third of the next one. Stackhouse turns around in his seat. Looks like he’s gonna need a uniform change. Whoops.
“Tar and feathers,” Ronon repeats. McKay’s still sputtering. “Sounds a lot like clay mud, honey and linguan moss.”
“Kinky.”
“When the women did it, yeah.”
McKay splits his glare between Ronon and John. "Hello, some of us are still trying to eat, trying being the operative word. Last I checked, Satedan torture wasn't on the menu."
It's mean, yeah, but... “We could always talk about farewell procedures in Renatus."
Ronon snorts and Teyla smiles at the table, and McKay? He’s got fair skin. Maybe all that red is the sunburn he keeps bitching about.
“Fascinating as this has been,” he says, not meeting anyone’s eyes, “I’m three days behind on projects currently being overseen by incompetents and people with inferior minds. Speaking of which, Sheppard, I’m going to need you to—”
“Sorry.” John pushes his chair back and stands. “Dr. Prasad already asked.”
McKay looks like someone just smacked him with a two by four. “What? Since when does geology get you?”
“Since now.”
“Prasad can have you later,” McKay says, a snotty, overgrown kid who never learned to share. “It’s geology, how important can it be?”
“Tell that to California.” Or Taranis. “You’ve got the gene—turn your whatever-it-is on yourself.”
“I already tried.”
Ronon scrapes his chair back. “Try harder. See you, Sheppard." He nods at Teyla, dumps his tray and leaves, the mess crowd parting around him like a bunch of people who know that if they don’t move they will soon be moved, and it will hurt. A lot.
Teyla rises and circles the table. “I will see you both at the briefing tomorrow?”
“Absolutely."
“Yes of course,” McKay says, flappy and distracted. Teyla smiles and shakes her head at them, and then Corporal Hawkins calls her name and she turns to answer him. They leave together, Hawkins enthusiastically miming some kind of stick fighting maneuver; nothing like getting your ass pounded into the ground on a full stomach.
McKay says, “Why can’t you just—”
“Because I already promised Dr. Prasad. Besides,” John reaches past McKay and grabs his tray, “she asked nicely. So if you'll excuse me, my superior gene and I have a date with the tectonic plate squad.”
John strolls out of the mess with Another One Bites the Dust stuck on replay in his head. He wonders idly if McKay was in an all boys choir way back when. The guy has shrill down to a science.
...
