Round #1 Challenge #8 - Voting
This is it, folks -- the final vote! And so of course, the rules are a little different. Please read carefully.
Read each entry, and comment with the number & title of the fics IN THE ORDER YOU LIKED THEM BEST. That means the story you liked the very best would be in the #1 slot, the story you liked second best would be in the #2 slot, etc.
You are not required to include your reasoning, but it would be nice. Authors will be provided with any comments their fic receives upon request, and though it will be completely anonymous, please bear that in mind when commenting.
Please include the number AND the title, to eliminate confusion. An example of how to vote:
Favorite
1. 00) Title - Reason
2. 00) Title - Reason
3. 00) Title - Reason
4. 00) Title - Reason
Voting is screened, and will remain open through WEDNESDAY evening. Voting is open to anyone, so please feel free to link to this post - but remember authors, DO NOT reveal which story is yours until the voting is finished. Once the winner & eliminations have been announced, you may post your story anywhere you like.
The winner of this vote will be the winner of Round 1!
01. Shaking Hands With the Devil - gen, teen, no spoilers
He looked down at his hands where they played with the crisp white sheets. Lifting one hand up, he watched it shake for a moment, before clenching it into a fist and letting it drop back to the bed.
Carson had always had steady hands. The room around him could be in absolute chaos, his heart pounding with adrenaline formed from fear or desperation, but his hands were always steady. It was a trait that many people remarked upon and that he tried not to think about, because if he did, he remembered the few times his hands had not been so steady.
The first time his hands shook, he’d been twelve. It had been a normal day - his mother humming to herself as she cooked the Sunday roast and Carson sitting quietly, playing with a bug catcher his uncle had bought him for his birthday.
It had been a normal day until there was a loud crash from the bedroom. He’d dashed curiously toward the source of the sound, running faster than his ma, to find his dad lying on the floor. His dad’s hand had clutched at his chest, his breathing labored.
That day, his small fists clenched tight against the shaking of his hands, Carson had watched his father die slowly in his mother’s arms while the ambulance took too long to arrive. From that day, he swore to never feel so helpless again.
His hands shook all the time now.
"Carson, you have visitors." The nurse smiled at him as she poked her head into the doorway. The nurses all liked Carson; he wasn’t like so many of the other patients. Still so young at heart, he’d heard one of them remark just the other day.
He nodded, smiling, as she ushered in the two men. John sauntered into the room, casually making himself comfortable by leaning up against the window. His smile was all white teeth and his presence instantly relaxing. "Hey, Doc."
Carson had been surprised by that ease and charm the first day he’d met John Sheppard. That day, he’d casually strolled in and sat down in the Ancient control chair… against orders too. He was unchanging, and yet he was so different - the complete opposite of most military men Carson dealt with. Carson now realized there was a resolve tougher than steel beneath that careful mask.
Rodney followed John into the room, waving at Carson and looking tentative, almost sheepish. On first impression of Rodney, he’d been struck by the walking contradiction: a self-proclaimed genius who didn’t seem to care about anyone but himself. In truth, he cared about everyone too much.
"Hi Carson. You doing okay? I mean, I don’t mean that, I mean of course you’re not okay. You’re stuck in here, and do you know there’s a man in the corridor talking in Klingon? He even insulted me, told me my mother’s forehead was smooth. If I was a Klingon, I’d have had to kill him right there…" Rodney was waving his arms, wound tight as only he could be. Sheppard put a hand on his shoulder and he stilled. Carson took that as his cue to speak.
"I’m fine, Rodney. This place is close to my mother, has nice nursing staff and I can get outside. Not much more I could want for, really." He chuckled. "You speak Klingon, Rodney?"
Explosions, yelling and chaos.
Elizabeth’s hand went limp in his own as they neared the Stargate. Her blood was warm against his skin.
He knelt to shield her as the next wave of explosions hit the city. No shields left.
The boots appeared beside him in a flash of light. A grey-green hand reached toward his chest.
Carson awoke with a scream, warm hands surrounding him, steadying him as he caught his breath.
"Hey, buddy. You okay? You dozed off on us." Sheppard’s voice wasn’t so calm now, reminding Carson that John had once shared his nightmares, but Sheppard had resisted the nurse who tried to usher them out.
Rodney had picked up Carson’s hand in his own and was gently playing with it, as if trying to warm it. He concentrated on that touch and started to calm.
"Have they found anything new?" Carson asked every time. He needed to know.
Rodney reached into his bag and pulled out the latest research from Carson’s team. "They tried the new treatment on Colonel Everett." His expressive eyes told Carson the results without him reading them.
"You can’t give up, Carson."
Later, after some friendly reminiscing, a pat on the shoulder from John, and a choking hug from Rodney, they were gone.
Carson looked down at his hands.
They shook all the time now.
02. Speaking in Tongues - R for sexual content
"Lakh tirikh."
The first time, it's barely a whisper, more sensed than heard; fleeting brush of dry lips on Rodney's shoulder.
He lies beneath the crumpled blankets and bunched up sheet, feigning sleep as John slips out of the room between pre-dawn patrols, lifesigns detector in his hand.
Between one slow breath and the next, Rodney is asleep. The tiny soundbite slides seamlessly into his subconscious, repeated on a loop inside his dreamscape - whispered, screamed, chanted in the background of a thousand final acts until it loses all cohesion, all pondered meaning.
When he wakes, he no longer remembers.
***
"Tora dust midaram."
This time, Rodney is awake. He hears the words, breathed into the base of his spine, just moments before John's tongue wipes out the memory with one wet, sweeping stroke along the crease of his ass.
All higher mental functions are derailed as John pries his cheeks apart and nuzzles in to give a long, slow lick, and then another.
Rodney loses count after that - his world is reduced to tongue and ass and cock and balls and, god, yes, fingers there, pulling, cupping, cradling, then sliding in.
Afterwards, he knows there's something he should remember.
***
"Aloha wau ia 'oe."
Rodney doesn't have a hope of figuring out what John has just said, and he's really not willing to pull that sinfully mobile mouth off his cock on the off chance he can convince John to repeat his mumbled words.
Instead, his fingers sink even deeper into John's unruly hair, gently scratching at his scalp and sliding down to cradle skull and nape and press his thumbs in behind John's open jaw.
John responds by taking a deep breath in though his nose, pressing forward and swallowing, hard.
Reality shrinks down to a single vibrant point.
***
"Wo ai ni, Rodney. Wo ai ni."
Tiny tremors of post-orgasmic bliss are still rippling through John's lax muscles as Rodney slides up and off his cock.
With a muted grunt of pleasure-pain, Rodney rolls to one side and grabs the waiting washcloth from the nightstand. A few moments later, they're both as clean as they're going to get and Rodney's curled, spoon-like, at John's back.
"Wo ai ni."
The words are whispered, this time into Rodney's pillow, and Rodney knows that once again he's not supposed to hear. And once again, it leaves him curious.
This time he remembers.
***
01001001 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 00100000 0111101 01101111 01110101
Rodney focuses on staying awake, on hearing what alien words John shares in his post-coital daze, or breathes into his neck before he leaves. He's not prepared to feel a tickling at the base of his spine, a single finger tracing - circle line circle circle line circle circle line - random patterns on his skin.
The not-so-random pattern's been repeated three times before Rodney figures out the meaning. With his usual grace and tact, he rolls onto his back and drags John across his chest.
"I love you too."
***
Translations of 'I love you' (taken from various websites/lists):
Lakh tirikh - Berber
Tora dust midaram - Persian (Farsi)
Aloha wau ia 'oe - Hawaiian
Wo ai ni - Chinese
01001001 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 00100000 0111101 01101111 01110101 - Binary English
03. Failure to Communicate - G, no spoilers
"Two weeks?" Rodney asked. At least, he meant to ask it. It came out as more of a long croak.
"Two weeks," Carson said firmly. "No talking. No exceptions."
"But how am I supposed to do my job?"
"Whispering is talking, too, Rodney. And I guess you'll have to take two weeks off from verbally bludgeoning your subordinates."
Rodney glared. "But--"
"Listen," Carson said, hands on his hips. "If those nodes don't go away on their own, do you know what the next treatment is? Surgery."
Rodney's eyes popped wide open.
"Two weeks."
"Quack," Rodney mouthed.
***
"Why can't you talk?" John asked. "I thought it was just a bad cold."
NODES ON VOCAL CORDS, Rodney scribbled on a small whiteboard he'd confiscated from the infirmary. IF THEY DON'T HEAL THIS WAY, SURGERY.
"So I guess you're benched from missions until then."
Rodney rolled his eyes. He started to write OBVIOUSLY, COLONEL OBVIOUS, but he'd run out of room on the whiteboard, and by the time he erased it John had wandered off.
***
Rodney was going crazy. He'd learned the first time he tried to "talk" with his staff that writing anything longer than YES or NO was out, because he'd lose the attention of his audience, and there was only so much finger snapping and foot stomping he could do in one conversation. And even when they would sit still and listen, he had to be succinct to get it all in before they stopped looking and started arguing with him.
Rodney hated succinct.
He browsed through the language files on the linguists' corner of the server and spent a day (okay, two) mastering the basics of sign language. Then he sent the link to all his senior scientists with orders to learn it.
This would have been a good plan, except for two things:
1) Advanced scientific concepts (like, say, astrophysics) weren't covered in the linguists' files for some reason, and took longer to fingerspell than they did to write out, with the same results.
2) His staff didn't seem to be nearly as motivated to learn sign language as he had been.
They can't be bothered, he typed into an email to Elizabeth one night. Except Zelenka, who I swear is getting me wrong on purpose. There has to be a way to communicate that's fast, easy, and that no one can pretend they don't understand. Something like--
He stopped short and stared at the monitor. "Of course!" he rasped out, then slapped a hand over his mouth. He deleted the email and set off for the labs.
***
Everyone arrived at the senior staff meeting the next morning to be confronted by Rodney's smug grin and a small square piece of electronics at their seat.
"Rodney?" Elizabeth asked.
Rodney gestured her towards the screen on her device.
Welcome to the McKay Personal Communication System (MPCS), it read. I can type my message in and be read by whichever one or ones of you I choose.
The "I'm a genius!" wasn't written on the screen, but it was clear in Rodney's expression.
John looked at the screen, up at Rodney, and back again. "Congratulations, Dr. McKay," he said dryly. "You've just invented the Blackberry."
Rodney typed furiously. Do you see any Blackberries sitting in the supply closet, Colonel? So I REinvented the Blackberry. And I improved it!
Text continued to scroll across John's screen at an alarming rate. He exchanged a raised eyebrow with Elizabeth.
***
The M-Berries, as they came to be called (It's the McKay Personal Communication System! "Give it up, Rodney.") was, in fact, the perfect solution. They allowed Rodney to express himself fully to his scientists:
Hello, have any of you even HEARD of the scientific method? Take this back and redo it. Try and use logic this time.
They allowed a spirited exchange of ideas between colleagues:
Three control crystals!
"Four!"
Three!
"Four at the least!"
Three!
"Do prdele! It's on your head when the puddlejumper falls out of the sky, McKay."
The linguists have Czech in their files, too. I'm looking that up when I get back to the lab.
"Vypadni."
They even saved the day:
Reduce the water pressure. No, no, too far, the sensors are going crazy. Back the controls up! Perfect, perfect!
"Hey, that worked great," John said, toweling his hair dry in the middle of Rodney's lab. "With the pipes and the leaks and everything echoing down there, I couldn't hear a thing on the headset."
You're welcome. Hey! Stop dripping on my floor.
John read his screen and laughed. "So, two weeks up tomorrow?"
Rodney nodded, already deep in a message to Radek about the aftermath of the evening's events.
"It'll be good to hear you again," John said. He smiled at Rodney's startled look, bouncing his M-Berry lightly in his hand, and walked away.
04. Bananas and Raspberry Creme - PG
Blinking in the bright light of the SGC, Rodney felt the muscles in his jaw tighten as he gazed at the grey, windowless walls. He already missed Atlantis.
"General," Elizabeth said, inclining her head slightly at Landry, who was stepping up to the gate to greet them.
"Good to have you back." Landry extended his hand to her, clapping the other on Rodney's shoulder, and gruffly greeted the whole group. "Dr. McKay. Dr. Beckett. Major Sheppard."
Out of the corner of his eye, Rodney caught John's salute, which was creepy in and of itself. Add that to Elizabeth's false smile, and Carson's high-pitched babbling, and Rodney couldn't wait to finish up the weeks of debriefing and go home.
***
Their first night back, Dr. Lam summoned them to the infirmary, surprise, surprise.
"It's standard procedure, Doctor." The nurse patted the infirmary bed. "We just need to run a few blood tests."
"I know that," Carson huffed. "This may be the first time I've had a post-mission exam, but I've done more than my fair share. And no one has been off planet in the last two weeks, so I don't see why--."
"Atlantis is off-planet to them," Rodney muttered, hopping up on the bed across from him. "As far as they're concerned, we've spent the last year off-planet. No wonder they want to turn us into pincushions."
"Relax, Doc." John brushed by Rodney, and leaned against the bed next to him, his arm pressed against Rodney's thigh. "It only hurts a tiny bit, and they might even give us some candy when they're done."
He winked at the nurse, and Rodney glanced away, his stomach tightening. He told himself it was because he hated needles.
***
The second night Mitchell, Carter, Jackson, and Teal'c stopped by Elizabeth's room to welcome the prodigals home, and somehow Rodney, John, and Carson ended up there as well. They spent the night talking about 'stupid things that happened off-planet,' which mutated into a whacked-out version of charades based on mission reports.
"Oh! Oh!" John yelled as Jackson mimed combing long hair. "Ancient priestess!" Jackson stretched his hands out and John continued on: "Ancient priestess captures team leader for DNA experimentation, and when rescued, he's missing his pants."
Rodney rolled his eyes. Of course, John would get that one.
They crashed at Elizabeth's, and Rodney woke up sweaty, with an aching back and a stiff neck from spending the night on the floor. Staring up at the ceiling, he could hear John breathing softly next to him, the warmth of it making his cheek tingle. For an instant, Rodney wondered what the hell planet they were on, and rolled closer to John before the alarm went off.
***
The third night, Rodney watched as John picked up a spoonful of macaroni and cheese, letting the sauce dribble out onto his plate, before scooping up another bite and doing the whole thing again. Another couple of attempts and Rodney was close to grabbing the spoon when John let it fall onto his tray. "Let's play hooky," he said, rubbing his hand through his hair and staring intently at Rodney.
"Play hooky? Are you insane? Just because Elizabeth had us all over for a slumber party last night--" In the harsh light of the SCG, so different from the pale light of Atlantis, Rodney was able to see details more clearly. He noticed the way the lines were pulled tight around John's eyes and mouth, the way his hand clenched on the tray, and clamped his own lips shut. "Fine," he muttered. "Hooky it is." Rodney snapped his fingers. "We'll go to my apartment."
"You kept your apartment?"
"When I left, I figured it would only be a month or so till we got back, so I just left everything set up on automatic withdrawal." Rodney tilted his head to one side, wishing they still had transporters. Things just moved faster in Atlantis. "I think I kept paying the cleaning service too." Damnit, he should have known the mist planet was a fantasy, because no way would his housekeepers leave a bag of cheese-- He slapped John on the arm. "I think we need a snack run first."
***
Rodney had forgotten what grocery stores were like. They made it two feet inside the Whole Foods, and ground to a complete halt at the aisles of produce stretched out before them. "Oh my God." Rodney pressed his hand to his chest as stared at the aisle, then glanced back at John. "There must be fifty kinds of coffee here."
"Don't buy more than you can drink in a week."
Rodney snorted. "Do you know how much coffee I can drink in a week?"
"Good point." He smacked Rodney's shoulder nodded down the aisle. "I've got to pick up some stuff myself. I'll meet you at checkout."
A bag of cheese puffs, a bag of cheese snaps, a bag of Oreos, a six pack of beer, three bags of coffee later, they finally made it to Rodney's apartment. It turned out that John's 'incidentals' were more than just toothpaste.
***
This time, Rodney remembered what planet he was on as the morning sunlight drifted into the bedroom. He wrapped his arm around John, enjoying the feel of John's cheesy morning breath on his neck, and wondered if the weird orange powder would ever wear off. "We've got to get back," he said, stroking John's arm.
"Let's play hooky." John burrowed his head into Rodney's armpit.
"We already did that, remember?"
"It's all a blur of bananas and raspberry creme."
Rodney stared at John, blinked twice, and rolled out of bed. "I need coffee," he grumbled.
And for just that instant, it felt like home.
VOTING CLOSED - RESULTS TO BE ANNOUNCED SHORTLY.
Read each entry, and comment with the number & title of the fics IN THE ORDER YOU LIKED THEM BEST. That means the story you liked the very best would be in the #1 slot, the story you liked second best would be in the #2 slot, etc.
You are not required to include your reasoning, but it would be nice. Authors will be provided with any comments their fic receives upon request, and though it will be completely anonymous, please bear that in mind when commenting.
Please include the number AND the title, to eliminate confusion. An example of how to vote:
Favorite
1. 00) Title - Reason
2. 00) Title - Reason
3. 00) Title - Reason
4. 00) Title - Reason
Voting is screened, and will remain open through WEDNESDAY evening. Voting is open to anyone, so please feel free to link to this post - but remember authors, DO NOT reveal which story is yours until the voting is finished. Once the winner & eliminations have been announced, you may post your story anywhere you like.
The winner of this vote will be the winner of Round 1!
01. Shaking Hands With the Devil - gen, teen, no spoilers
He looked down at his hands where they played with the crisp white sheets. Lifting one hand up, he watched it shake for a moment, before clenching it into a fist and letting it drop back to the bed.
Carson had always had steady hands. The room around him could be in absolute chaos, his heart pounding with adrenaline formed from fear or desperation, but his hands were always steady. It was a trait that many people remarked upon and that he tried not to think about, because if he did, he remembered the few times his hands had not been so steady.
The first time his hands shook, he’d been twelve. It had been a normal day - his mother humming to herself as she cooked the Sunday roast and Carson sitting quietly, playing with a bug catcher his uncle had bought him for his birthday.
It had been a normal day until there was a loud crash from the bedroom. He’d dashed curiously toward the source of the sound, running faster than his ma, to find his dad lying on the floor. His dad’s hand had clutched at his chest, his breathing labored.
That day, his small fists clenched tight against the shaking of his hands, Carson had watched his father die slowly in his mother’s arms while the ambulance took too long to arrive. From that day, he swore to never feel so helpless again.
His hands shook all the time now.
"Carson, you have visitors." The nurse smiled at him as she poked her head into the doorway. The nurses all liked Carson; he wasn’t like so many of the other patients. Still so young at heart, he’d heard one of them remark just the other day.
He nodded, smiling, as she ushered in the two men. John sauntered into the room, casually making himself comfortable by leaning up against the window. His smile was all white teeth and his presence instantly relaxing. "Hey, Doc."
Carson had been surprised by that ease and charm the first day he’d met John Sheppard. That day, he’d casually strolled in and sat down in the Ancient control chair… against orders too. He was unchanging, and yet he was so different - the complete opposite of most military men Carson dealt with. Carson now realized there was a resolve tougher than steel beneath that careful mask.
Rodney followed John into the room, waving at Carson and looking tentative, almost sheepish. On first impression of Rodney, he’d been struck by the walking contradiction: a self-proclaimed genius who didn’t seem to care about anyone but himself. In truth, he cared about everyone too much.
"Hi Carson. You doing okay? I mean, I don’t mean that, I mean of course you’re not okay. You’re stuck in here, and do you know there’s a man in the corridor talking in Klingon? He even insulted me, told me my mother’s forehead was smooth. If I was a Klingon, I’d have had to kill him right there…" Rodney was waving his arms, wound tight as only he could be. Sheppard put a hand on his shoulder and he stilled. Carson took that as his cue to speak.
"I’m fine, Rodney. This place is close to my mother, has nice nursing staff and I can get outside. Not much more I could want for, really." He chuckled. "You speak Klingon, Rodney?"
Explosions, yelling and chaos.
Elizabeth’s hand went limp in his own as they neared the Stargate. Her blood was warm against his skin.
He knelt to shield her as the next wave of explosions hit the city. No shields left.
The boots appeared beside him in a flash of light. A grey-green hand reached toward his chest.
Carson awoke with a scream, warm hands surrounding him, steadying him as he caught his breath.
"Hey, buddy. You okay? You dozed off on us." Sheppard’s voice wasn’t so calm now, reminding Carson that John had once shared his nightmares, but Sheppard had resisted the nurse who tried to usher them out.
Rodney had picked up Carson’s hand in his own and was gently playing with it, as if trying to warm it. He concentrated on that touch and started to calm.
"Have they found anything new?" Carson asked every time. He needed to know.
Rodney reached into his bag and pulled out the latest research from Carson’s team. "They tried the new treatment on Colonel Everett." His expressive eyes told Carson the results without him reading them.
"You can’t give up, Carson."
Later, after some friendly reminiscing, a pat on the shoulder from John, and a choking hug from Rodney, they were gone.
Carson looked down at his hands.
They shook all the time now.
02. Speaking in Tongues - R for sexual content
"Lakh tirikh."
The first time, it's barely a whisper, more sensed than heard; fleeting brush of dry lips on Rodney's shoulder.
He lies beneath the crumpled blankets and bunched up sheet, feigning sleep as John slips out of the room between pre-dawn patrols, lifesigns detector in his hand.
Between one slow breath and the next, Rodney is asleep. The tiny soundbite slides seamlessly into his subconscious, repeated on a loop inside his dreamscape - whispered, screamed, chanted in the background of a thousand final acts until it loses all cohesion, all pondered meaning.
When he wakes, he no longer remembers.
***
"Tora dust midaram."
This time, Rodney is awake. He hears the words, breathed into the base of his spine, just moments before John's tongue wipes out the memory with one wet, sweeping stroke along the crease of his ass.
All higher mental functions are derailed as John pries his cheeks apart and nuzzles in to give a long, slow lick, and then another.
Rodney loses count after that - his world is reduced to tongue and ass and cock and balls and, god, yes, fingers there, pulling, cupping, cradling, then sliding in.
Afterwards, he knows there's something he should remember.
***
"Aloha wau ia 'oe."
Rodney doesn't have a hope of figuring out what John has just said, and he's really not willing to pull that sinfully mobile mouth off his cock on the off chance he can convince John to repeat his mumbled words.
Instead, his fingers sink even deeper into John's unruly hair, gently scratching at his scalp and sliding down to cradle skull and nape and press his thumbs in behind John's open jaw.
John responds by taking a deep breath in though his nose, pressing forward and swallowing, hard.
Reality shrinks down to a single vibrant point.
***
"Wo ai ni, Rodney. Wo ai ni."
Tiny tremors of post-orgasmic bliss are still rippling through John's lax muscles as Rodney slides up and off his cock.
With a muted grunt of pleasure-pain, Rodney rolls to one side and grabs the waiting washcloth from the nightstand. A few moments later, they're both as clean as they're going to get and Rodney's curled, spoon-like, at John's back.
"Wo ai ni."
The words are whispered, this time into Rodney's pillow, and Rodney knows that once again he's not supposed to hear. And once again, it leaves him curious.
This time he remembers.
***
01001001 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 00100000 0111101 01101111 01110101
Rodney focuses on staying awake, on hearing what alien words John shares in his post-coital daze, or breathes into his neck before he leaves. He's not prepared to feel a tickling at the base of his spine, a single finger tracing - circle line circle circle line circle circle line - random patterns on his skin.
The not-so-random pattern's been repeated three times before Rodney figures out the meaning. With his usual grace and tact, he rolls onto his back and drags John across his chest.
"I love you too."
***
Translations of 'I love you' (taken from various websites/lists):
Lakh tirikh - Berber
Tora dust midaram - Persian (Farsi)
Aloha wau ia 'oe - Hawaiian
Wo ai ni - Chinese
01001001 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 00100000 0111101 01101111 01110101 - Binary English
03. Failure to Communicate - G, no spoilers
"Two weeks?" Rodney asked. At least, he meant to ask it. It came out as more of a long croak.
"Two weeks," Carson said firmly. "No talking. No exceptions."
"But how am I supposed to do my job?"
"Whispering is talking, too, Rodney. And I guess you'll have to take two weeks off from verbally bludgeoning your subordinates."
Rodney glared. "But--"
"Listen," Carson said, hands on his hips. "If those nodes don't go away on their own, do you know what the next treatment is? Surgery."
Rodney's eyes popped wide open.
"Two weeks."
"Quack," Rodney mouthed.
***
"Why can't you talk?" John asked. "I thought it was just a bad cold."
NODES ON VOCAL CORDS, Rodney scribbled on a small whiteboard he'd confiscated from the infirmary. IF THEY DON'T HEAL THIS WAY, SURGERY.
"So I guess you're benched from missions until then."
Rodney rolled his eyes. He started to write OBVIOUSLY, COLONEL OBVIOUS, but he'd run out of room on the whiteboard, and by the time he erased it John had wandered off.
***
Rodney was going crazy. He'd learned the first time he tried to "talk" with his staff that writing anything longer than YES or NO was out, because he'd lose the attention of his audience, and there was only so much finger snapping and foot stomping he could do in one conversation. And even when they would sit still and listen, he had to be succinct to get it all in before they stopped looking and started arguing with him.
Rodney hated succinct.
He browsed through the language files on the linguists' corner of the server and spent a day (okay, two) mastering the basics of sign language. Then he sent the link to all his senior scientists with orders to learn it.
This would have been a good plan, except for two things:
1) Advanced scientific concepts (like, say, astrophysics) weren't covered in the linguists' files for some reason, and took longer to fingerspell than they did to write out, with the same results.
2) His staff didn't seem to be nearly as motivated to learn sign language as he had been.
They can't be bothered, he typed into an email to Elizabeth one night. Except Zelenka, who I swear is getting me wrong on purpose. There has to be a way to communicate that's fast, easy, and that no one can pretend they don't understand. Something like--
He stopped short and stared at the monitor. "Of course!" he rasped out, then slapped a hand over his mouth. He deleted the email and set off for the labs.
***
Everyone arrived at the senior staff meeting the next morning to be confronted by Rodney's smug grin and a small square piece of electronics at their seat.
"Rodney?" Elizabeth asked.
Rodney gestured her towards the screen on her device.
Welcome to the McKay Personal Communication System (MPCS), it read. I can type my message in and be read by whichever one or ones of you I choose.
The "I'm a genius!" wasn't written on the screen, but it was clear in Rodney's expression.
John looked at the screen, up at Rodney, and back again. "Congratulations, Dr. McKay," he said dryly. "You've just invented the Blackberry."
Rodney typed furiously. Do you see any Blackberries sitting in the supply closet, Colonel? So I REinvented the Blackberry. And I improved it!
Text continued to scroll across John's screen at an alarming rate. He exchanged a raised eyebrow with Elizabeth.
***
The M-Berries, as they came to be called (It's the McKay Personal Communication System! "Give it up, Rodney.") was, in fact, the perfect solution. They allowed Rodney to express himself fully to his scientists:
Hello, have any of you even HEARD of the scientific method? Take this back and redo it. Try and use logic this time.
They allowed a spirited exchange of ideas between colleagues:
Three control crystals!
"Four!"
Three!
"Four at the least!"
Three!
"Do prdele! It's on your head when the puddlejumper falls out of the sky, McKay."
The linguists have Czech in their files, too. I'm looking that up when I get back to the lab.
"Vypadni."
They even saved the day:
Reduce the water pressure. No, no, too far, the sensors are going crazy. Back the controls up! Perfect, perfect!
"Hey, that worked great," John said, toweling his hair dry in the middle of Rodney's lab. "With the pipes and the leaks and everything echoing down there, I couldn't hear a thing on the headset."
You're welcome. Hey! Stop dripping on my floor.
John read his screen and laughed. "So, two weeks up tomorrow?"
Rodney nodded, already deep in a message to Radek about the aftermath of the evening's events.
"It'll be good to hear you again," John said. He smiled at Rodney's startled look, bouncing his M-Berry lightly in his hand, and walked away.
04. Bananas and Raspberry Creme - PG
Blinking in the bright light of the SGC, Rodney felt the muscles in his jaw tighten as he gazed at the grey, windowless walls. He already missed Atlantis.
"General," Elizabeth said, inclining her head slightly at Landry, who was stepping up to the gate to greet them.
"Good to have you back." Landry extended his hand to her, clapping the other on Rodney's shoulder, and gruffly greeted the whole group. "Dr. McKay. Dr. Beckett. Major Sheppard."
Out of the corner of his eye, Rodney caught John's salute, which was creepy in and of itself. Add that to Elizabeth's false smile, and Carson's high-pitched babbling, and Rodney couldn't wait to finish up the weeks of debriefing and go home.
***
Their first night back, Dr. Lam summoned them to the infirmary, surprise, surprise.
"It's standard procedure, Doctor." The nurse patted the infirmary bed. "We just need to run a few blood tests."
"I know that," Carson huffed. "This may be the first time I've had a post-mission exam, but I've done more than my fair share. And no one has been off planet in the last two weeks, so I don't see why--."
"Atlantis is off-planet to them," Rodney muttered, hopping up on the bed across from him. "As far as they're concerned, we've spent the last year off-planet. No wonder they want to turn us into pincushions."
"Relax, Doc." John brushed by Rodney, and leaned against the bed next to him, his arm pressed against Rodney's thigh. "It only hurts a tiny bit, and they might even give us some candy when they're done."
He winked at the nurse, and Rodney glanced away, his stomach tightening. He told himself it was because he hated needles.
***
The second night Mitchell, Carter, Jackson, and Teal'c stopped by Elizabeth's room to welcome the prodigals home, and somehow Rodney, John, and Carson ended up there as well. They spent the night talking about 'stupid things that happened off-planet,' which mutated into a whacked-out version of charades based on mission reports.
"Oh! Oh!" John yelled as Jackson mimed combing long hair. "Ancient priestess!" Jackson stretched his hands out and John continued on: "Ancient priestess captures team leader for DNA experimentation, and when rescued, he's missing his pants."
Rodney rolled his eyes. Of course, John would get that one.
They crashed at Elizabeth's, and Rodney woke up sweaty, with an aching back and a stiff neck from spending the night on the floor. Staring up at the ceiling, he could hear John breathing softly next to him, the warmth of it making his cheek tingle. For an instant, Rodney wondered what the hell planet they were on, and rolled closer to John before the alarm went off.
***
The third night, Rodney watched as John picked up a spoonful of macaroni and cheese, letting the sauce dribble out onto his plate, before scooping up another bite and doing the whole thing again. Another couple of attempts and Rodney was close to grabbing the spoon when John let it fall onto his tray. "Let's play hooky," he said, rubbing his hand through his hair and staring intently at Rodney.
"Play hooky? Are you insane? Just because Elizabeth had us all over for a slumber party last night--" In the harsh light of the SCG, so different from the pale light of Atlantis, Rodney was able to see details more clearly. He noticed the way the lines were pulled tight around John's eyes and mouth, the way his hand clenched on the tray, and clamped his own lips shut. "Fine," he muttered. "Hooky it is." Rodney snapped his fingers. "We'll go to my apartment."
"You kept your apartment?"
"When I left, I figured it would only be a month or so till we got back, so I just left everything set up on automatic withdrawal." Rodney tilted his head to one side, wishing they still had transporters. Things just moved faster in Atlantis. "I think I kept paying the cleaning service too." Damnit, he should have known the mist planet was a fantasy, because no way would his housekeepers leave a bag of cheese-- He slapped John on the arm. "I think we need a snack run first."
***
Rodney had forgotten what grocery stores were like. They made it two feet inside the Whole Foods, and ground to a complete halt at the aisles of produce stretched out before them. "Oh my God." Rodney pressed his hand to his chest as stared at the aisle, then glanced back at John. "There must be fifty kinds of coffee here."
"Don't buy more than you can drink in a week."
Rodney snorted. "Do you know how much coffee I can drink in a week?"
"Good point." He smacked Rodney's shoulder nodded down the aisle. "I've got to pick up some stuff myself. I'll meet you at checkout."
A bag of cheese puffs, a bag of cheese snaps, a bag of Oreos, a six pack of beer, three bags of coffee later, they finally made it to Rodney's apartment. It turned out that John's 'incidentals' were more than just toothpaste.
***
This time, Rodney remembered what planet he was on as the morning sunlight drifted into the bedroom. He wrapped his arm around John, enjoying the feel of John's cheesy morning breath on his neck, and wondered if the weird orange powder would ever wear off. "We've got to get back," he said, stroking John's arm.
"Let's play hooky." John burrowed his head into Rodney's armpit.
"We already did that, remember?"
"It's all a blur of bananas and raspberry creme."
Rodney stared at John, blinked twice, and rolled out of bed. "I need coffee," he grumbled.
And for just that instant, it felt like home.
VOTING CLOSED - RESULTS TO BE ANNOUNCED SHORTLY.