.fic: The Courtship of Dorkbirds - John/Rodney (PG)
Last night was a night of consolation and redemption for me, both provided by such wonderful things as:
-a pornlet by amireal
- hot hot David Hewlett provided by telesilla (nnnnnnf HOT)
-unamaga's lovely adorable Grant
-these brownie cookies dogeared showed me a while ago. (For those of you who are interested, they are very easy to make, perfect for after you've had other people's stupidity and disorganization inflicted on you.)
-signing up for kink_bingo (hahahahahaha! I will win the award for Most Vanilla Interpretation of a Kink, I knows it!)
-making my new default icon!
-writing this:
.The Courtship of Dorkbirds (John/Rodney [pre?]slash PG) ~1,100
Some time ago, dogeared saw a nature program about the various courtship rituals of birds of paradise (like this one), one of which was that both birds would peck, poke, thwap, and generally harass each other. She observed that there are some Similarities of interest here.
.The Courtship of Dorkbirds
"Honestly, Sheppard, are you five? Shouldn't you, oh, finish tying your combat boots?" McKay manages to fuss with his P90 and eye Sheppard critically at the same time; Ronon knew a division commander like that once. "Or did you fail that part of kindergarten?"
"McKay," Sheppard says with the drawling patience that turns McKay all sorts of red and apoplectic, "for the goddamn last time, I'm breaking them in. Put on your sunscreen and shut up."
The gate whooshes to life, drowning out most of McKay's "Oh, weak. That was weak, Sheppard." As Ronon triple-checks his gun, McKay and Sheppard step through, and the wormhole cuts off whatever comes after Sheppard threatening to tie McKay's shoelaces together when he isn't looking.
Sheppard's just finished saying something as Ronon steps out of the gate. He's grinning the grin Ronon's heard described as "shit eating" (which... no. Ronon's come to accept Earth people are weird, and he's seen a lot in his years as a runner, but there are limits), and McKay is going puffed-up and annoyed again and sniping back.
On the other side of the gate, MPX-190 starts out as a small clearing ringed with gigantic, vine-covered trees. Ronon has his gun out in a second, but the only things in the clearing other than them are two birds up in one of the trees, noisy and brightly-feathered and eyeing each other. They look similar to the agrop, except much larger, and Ronon doesn't see any evidence of the venom-carrying spurs on their feet.
"If we have to run away and you trip over your own laces, I'm not going back to save you," McKay informs Sheppard. "'No man left behind' is all well and good, but there's an opt-out clause in the event of stupidity."
"Aw, c'mon, McKay, you'd have to come back and save me just so you could tell me how I need to repeat preschool," Sheppard says. He adjusts his sunglasses; they mask his eyes completely, but Ronon knows the sort of smirking going on behind them and the half-reluctant smile at the corner of Sheppard's mouth. "Now the settlement's to the west?"
"The north," Teyla says. She nods in the opposite direction of where Sheppard's looking.
"North it is," Sheppard says.
An unearthly shriek erupts from their left--their nine, Ronon thinks--and he wheels, gun at the ready; Teyla's right there with him, McKay and Sheppard just behind. But it's just the birds, who have ended their staring contest in favor of pecking at each other and flapping their wings. Every few exchanges they pause to shriek at each other, then one re-engages with a sharp right hook that manages to be fairly impressive for a bird.
"Birdfight!" Sheppard says and elbows McKay, who rolls his eyes but snickers at something only the two of them understand. One pokes its dangerously long and sharp beak at the other, which evades the thrust and pecks back. A one-two punch with both wings, thwap, thwap, a few more pokes, the other bird flapping to keep its balance as it hops along the tree branch, and more squawking and "Birdfight!" Sheppard says again.
"Actually," Teyla says, peering up into the branches, "those are two dysi birds, which are native to many worlds. What you see is their courtship display." She pauses as one of the birds caws horribly and hits the other bird over the head with a wing; the bird tries to duck, but is too slow. "Such displays can continue for several hours."
"Try to remember you're not an ornithologist, Colonel," McKay says with his crooked, superior smile. Sheppard smacks him on the arm and McKay scowls and smacks him over the head. Sheppard's cowlicks weather the blow.
* * *
They don't have to make a run for the gate, which McKay tells Sheppard is lucky for him. Sheppard reminds him about the time McKay had heard about a possible ZPM find on MX1-P08 and had come running into the gateroom with his pants unzipped, and McKay splutters and waves his hands.
"At least I had an excuse other than rank slothfulness," McKay grumbles. He trips over one of the many surfacing roots that choke the path; Sheppard's hand is quick at his elbow, even though Ronon has the sense that Sheppard's rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses.
"Wait, so am I lazy or stupid for not lacing my boots all the way up?"
"There's no reason you can't be both."
"They've been at this for hours," Ronon tells Teyla, who offers him a narrow-eyed look that tells her even he is testing her patience, possibly because this is the tenth time he's pointed out McKay has been harassing Sheppard about his boot laces since before the stargate.
As they approach the clearing, Ronon realizes that the shrill, bone-shivering screaming of the dysi birds has stopped (earlier, they'd walked for almost a full ten minutes before the birds had fallen out of earshot). Instead, he can see two large orange figures perched close together on a branch; as they draw closer, he sees that they're bending over something small and bloody and pulpy, and one bird picks up a piece of pulp and fur and offers it to the other, who snatches it and gulps it down.
"They have accepted each other's advances," Teyla says, and makes a noise that is suspiciously close to a coo. "Once dysi birds have decided to mate, they will hunt and eat together for the rest of their mating cycle." She sighs. "It is really quite romantic."
"Nature," McKay mutters, and trips again.
"You know the sex lasts for two seconds," Sheppard says, and pulls McKay back up and along, despite McKay's protests of a sprained ankle.
Ronon doesn't say anything.
He also doesn't say anything as they dial the gate, and aside from "It went fine," doesn't say anything else during one of their rare ten-minute debriefings. Colonel Carter looks as them hard, as though expecting one of them to admit to some disaster and her stare can force the confession out of them, but aside from McKay's "Oh my god, Sam, as hard as it is to believe given Colonel Sheppard's bootlaces were begging for disaster to strike, no disaster struck," there isn't anything else to be said.
There is, though, probably a lot to say when they leave and Sheppard smacks McKay on the arm, asks, "Hey, McKay, you want to grab something to eat? I'm starving," and McKay's eyes go bright and happy and wistful and he nods, and they both head off down the corridor together, McKay moving faster than he's moved all day and already gesturing enthusiastically about something while Sheppard laughs.
There is a lot to say, Ronon thinks, but he doesn't say it.
-end-
-a pornlet by amireal
- hot hot David Hewlett provided by telesilla (nnnnnnf HOT)
-unamaga's lovely adorable Grant
-these brownie cookies dogeared showed me a while ago. (For those of you who are interested, they are very easy to make, perfect for after you've had other people's stupidity and disorganization inflicted on you.)
-signing up for kink_bingo (hahahahahaha! I will win the award for Most Vanilla Interpretation of a Kink, I knows it!)
-making my new default icon!
-writing this:
.The Courtship of Dorkbirds (John/Rodney [pre?]slash PG) ~1,100
Some time ago, dogeared saw a nature program about the various courtship rituals of birds of paradise (like this one), one of which was that both birds would peck, poke, thwap, and generally harass each other. She observed that there are some Similarities of interest here.
.The Courtship of Dorkbirds
"Honestly, Sheppard, are you five? Shouldn't you, oh, finish tying your combat boots?" McKay manages to fuss with his P90 and eye Sheppard critically at the same time; Ronon knew a division commander like that once. "Or did you fail that part of kindergarten?"
"McKay," Sheppard says with the drawling patience that turns McKay all sorts of red and apoplectic, "for the goddamn last time, I'm breaking them in. Put on your sunscreen and shut up."
The gate whooshes to life, drowning out most of McKay's "Oh, weak. That was weak, Sheppard." As Ronon triple-checks his gun, McKay and Sheppard step through, and the wormhole cuts off whatever comes after Sheppard threatening to tie McKay's shoelaces together when he isn't looking.
Sheppard's just finished saying something as Ronon steps out of the gate. He's grinning the grin Ronon's heard described as "shit eating" (which... no. Ronon's come to accept Earth people are weird, and he's seen a lot in his years as a runner, but there are limits), and McKay is going puffed-up and annoyed again and sniping back.
On the other side of the gate, MPX-190 starts out as a small clearing ringed with gigantic, vine-covered trees. Ronon has his gun out in a second, but the only things in the clearing other than them are two birds up in one of the trees, noisy and brightly-feathered and eyeing each other. They look similar to the agrop, except much larger, and Ronon doesn't see any evidence of the venom-carrying spurs on their feet.
"If we have to run away and you trip over your own laces, I'm not going back to save you," McKay informs Sheppard. "'No man left behind' is all well and good, but there's an opt-out clause in the event of stupidity."
"Aw, c'mon, McKay, you'd have to come back and save me just so you could tell me how I need to repeat preschool," Sheppard says. He adjusts his sunglasses; they mask his eyes completely, but Ronon knows the sort of smirking going on behind them and the half-reluctant smile at the corner of Sheppard's mouth. "Now the settlement's to the west?"
"The north," Teyla says. She nods in the opposite direction of where Sheppard's looking.
"North it is," Sheppard says.
An unearthly shriek erupts from their left--their nine, Ronon thinks--and he wheels, gun at the ready; Teyla's right there with him, McKay and Sheppard just behind. But it's just the birds, who have ended their staring contest in favor of pecking at each other and flapping their wings. Every few exchanges they pause to shriek at each other, then one re-engages with a sharp right hook that manages to be fairly impressive for a bird.
"Birdfight!" Sheppard says and elbows McKay, who rolls his eyes but snickers at something only the two of them understand. One pokes its dangerously long and sharp beak at the other, which evades the thrust and pecks back. A one-two punch with both wings, thwap, thwap, a few more pokes, the other bird flapping to keep its balance as it hops along the tree branch, and more squawking and "Birdfight!" Sheppard says again.
"Actually," Teyla says, peering up into the branches, "those are two dysi birds, which are native to many worlds. What you see is their courtship display." She pauses as one of the birds caws horribly and hits the other bird over the head with a wing; the bird tries to duck, but is too slow. "Such displays can continue for several hours."
"Try to remember you're not an ornithologist, Colonel," McKay says with his crooked, superior smile. Sheppard smacks him on the arm and McKay scowls and smacks him over the head. Sheppard's cowlicks weather the blow.
* * *
They don't have to make a run for the gate, which McKay tells Sheppard is lucky for him. Sheppard reminds him about the time McKay had heard about a possible ZPM find on MX1-P08 and had come running into the gateroom with his pants unzipped, and McKay splutters and waves his hands.
"At least I had an excuse other than rank slothfulness," McKay grumbles. He trips over one of the many surfacing roots that choke the path; Sheppard's hand is quick at his elbow, even though Ronon has the sense that Sheppard's rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses.
"Wait, so am I lazy or stupid for not lacing my boots all the way up?"
"There's no reason you can't be both."
"They've been at this for hours," Ronon tells Teyla, who offers him a narrow-eyed look that tells her even he is testing her patience, possibly because this is the tenth time he's pointed out McKay has been harassing Sheppard about his boot laces since before the stargate.
As they approach the clearing, Ronon realizes that the shrill, bone-shivering screaming of the dysi birds has stopped (earlier, they'd walked for almost a full ten minutes before the birds had fallen out of earshot). Instead, he can see two large orange figures perched close together on a branch; as they draw closer, he sees that they're bending over something small and bloody and pulpy, and one bird picks up a piece of pulp and fur and offers it to the other, who snatches it and gulps it down.
"They have accepted each other's advances," Teyla says, and makes a noise that is suspiciously close to a coo. "Once dysi birds have decided to mate, they will hunt and eat together for the rest of their mating cycle." She sighs. "It is really quite romantic."
"Nature," McKay mutters, and trips again.
"You know the sex lasts for two seconds," Sheppard says, and pulls McKay back up and along, despite McKay's protests of a sprained ankle.
Ronon doesn't say anything.
He also doesn't say anything as they dial the gate, and aside from "It went fine," doesn't say anything else during one of their rare ten-minute debriefings. Colonel Carter looks as them hard, as though expecting one of them to admit to some disaster and her stare can force the confession out of them, but aside from McKay's "Oh my god, Sam, as hard as it is to believe given Colonel Sheppard's bootlaces were begging for disaster to strike, no disaster struck," there isn't anything else to be said.
There is, though, probably a lot to say when they leave and Sheppard smacks McKay on the arm, asks, "Hey, McKay, you want to grab something to eat? I'm starving," and McKay's eyes go bright and happy and wistful and he nods, and they both head off down the corridor together, McKay moving faster than he's moved all day and already gesturing enthusiastically about something while Sheppard laughs.
There is a lot to say, Ronon thinks, but he doesn't say it.
-end-