SGA - Atlantis High
Title: Atlantis High
Genre: Gen, Team, AU
Length: ~ 1,650 words
Rating: PG-13
Synopsis: Lunchtime at the exclusive, and occasionally elusive, Atlantis High School.
Author’s Notes: For the cliche_bingo entry “high school/college AU”. Also, completes my first true bingo out of what’s been posted.
Disclaimer: Not mine, they belong to people with far more money than me. I’m just borrowing them and making no profit from this.
~~~~~~~~~~
“It’s not fair,” McKay complained, dropping both a stack of books and a bag of lunch down on the table. He collapsed into his chair with the grace of a rhino and started lining up his lunch items around the books.
“What’s not fair?” Sheppard asked, moving his cookies out of the way. Last time they got too close and herded in with the rest of McKay’s horde and he lost them all. It was not a mistake to be repeated.
“Woolsey,” he hissed as if that said it all. In a sense, it did. The pencil-necked principal was a pain in everyone’s ass but seemed to have it in for a certain segment more than others. Unfortunately, John knew exactly where he and Rodney fell in the scheme of things and it was not on the side of good.
“What did he do this time?” John asked, hurriedly shoving a cookie in his mouth. Just because they were out of obvious reach did not make them safe.
Rodney looked up from separating his sandwich from an elaborate layer of bright blue cling wrap. Everything was color-coded based on some system only McKay knew and Sheppard did not bother trying to figure out. “Okay, first? Ew,” Rodney said, gesturing to the crumbs now littering the table and freely falling from John’s mouth. “Secondly? It’s more like what he won’t do. He won’t let me fail my entire fifth period. Says it’s bad for morale. I offered to give the less Neolithic ones D’s instead, but he still won’t allow it.”
“Isn’t that your Basic Physics class?” John asked, reaching for the second cookie.
Rodney shoved half his sandwich in his mouth, putting John’s earlier display to shame. “Yes,” he said around a mouthful of corned beef. “And I wouldn’t even be forced to teach that crap if it hadn’t been for Woolsey’s insistence that we needed to ‘get some while they are still young’. Really? Now’s the time to weed them out. If they can’t figure out basic static equations, they have no business in the field.”
John nodded, actually commiserating with him for once. Most of McKay’s fifth period made up his own sixth. He wasn’t sure if it was the beat down from the hour before, or if they really were that listless and moronic even without the help, but if they could not figure out what the little squiggly line with numbers at the top and bottom meant after half a semester, he really wasn’t sure what he was going to do with them.
Anything else he was going to say was interrupted by two more people sliding in beside them at the table. “It is not my fault,” Teyla was protesting, lowering a little plastic box with what appeared to be kittens on it. Why they each had a pair of nun-chucks, John had no idea.
“Didn’t say it was,” Ronon shrugged, setting his own, much larger, metal box down beside hers. He pulled an energy drink out of one of his many pockets and started diving in.
“I do not believe Mr. Woolsey will see it that way,” Teyla sighed, opening a bottle of water and pausing to take a sip. “He would like a full report by the end of the day, complete with insurance forms. I’m not even sure if Michael will be out of the Emergency Room by then.”
John bit his lip and looked over to her, waiting for either elaboration or a full out report. When he got nothing but a matching pink thermos of soup, he broke first and asked, “Do I even want to know?”
She sighed, hesitating as she raised some unidentifiable food to her lips. “Do you remember my problem student? The one who is not actually in any of my classes but insists on hanging around the art room during his free period?” she asked.
He nodded. A lot of students did not report to study hall on their off hour, and Teyla was one of the few teachers who let them get away with her. Her only rule was that they could not disturb any classes in progress. Most students leapt at the opportunity as it meant wandering rights of the multiple art classrooms and a feeling of freedom versus the confinement of the study room.
“Kenmore? Michael Kenmore, right?” Rodney asked with a hint of glee in his eyes. “Does that mean I don’t have to deal with him next hour?”
“That is him,” she confirmed. She stirred her soup but made no move to wards actually eating any yet. “As for him returning, he was conscious when he was taken away, so I see no reason for all the fuss.”
John blinked, running all the scenarios through his mind, but still not seeing how it added up. “What did he do?” he finally asked.
She sighed heavily. “He approached me while I was setting up a loom for Marrin. He was full of his usual comments and innuendo, but this time would not back down.” She set her spoon down, giving up even the pretense of eating at this point. “He grabbed my wrist and I... reacted.”
Sheppard let out a low whistle, echoed by McKay. Teyla may have been the school’s favorite Art teacher, known for her love of designs coinciding with nature and her peace and love attitude, but she was also the only person in the school to ever go toe to toe with the head of the Physical Education department and win. Ronon still hadn’t lived that down. For Teyla, teaching Basket Weaving 101 went hand in hand with being a black belt in Tae Kwan Do. There were lines you did not cross with her, and invading her personal space without permission was definitely one of them.
“How bad?” Ronon winced.
“I had the shuttle full of waft thread in my hand at the time,” she hedged, receiving three identical looks for her efforts. She slumped in her seat. “Possible broken arm and concussion,” she grumbled.
“You broke it?” Rodney asked incredulously.
“I know,” she sighed, again. “And it was the perfect shuttle for that loom. I’ll have to carve a new one.”
“I think he means Kenmore’s arm,” John supplied helpfully.
She blinked. “Oh, that.” She picked up her spoon again and finally dug into what looked to be a decent minestrone. “He would not let go and would not stop his advances. I defended myself. Though, I probably should not have tossed him against the wall - that is where they believe he received the concussion. Josie’s painting was hanging there and it will have to be reframed.”
“Sounds fair to me,” Ronon growled. Somehow he had managed to down half his lunch during the discussion, pausing now to delicately wipe the corner of his mouth with his napkin. “Kid has some serious attitude issues, not to mention aggression. Should get kicked out for disrespecting a teacher that way.”
John didn’t argue that point, but did feel the need to ask, “What about you, are you okay?” He gave her a quick once over, but could not find even a single hair or leather fringe out of place.
She waived off his concern. “I am fine, though I might be late tonight if Mr. Woolsey is not satisfied with my report. Do you think he wants me to visit the hospital? I would prefer not to have to be in such close quarters with Michael or his family anytime soon.”
“Naw, call and see if he’s out; that should be good enough,” Ronon told her. John knew he was speaking from long years of multiple experiences.
They returned to their lunches in near silence for a moment before Rodney’s head shot up suddenly, a look of concern on his face. “Wait! What’s going on tonight and why wasn’t I invited?”
John rolled his eyes. “End of quarter get together - pizza, wine, and bad movies at my place while we try to weed out who’d going to pass and who’s going to get shot down to the remedial classes,” he reminded him.
“You’re invited. I’m picking you up,” Ronon reminded him. In a less than quiet aside, he added, “Told you he’d forget.”
“That’s tonight? What day is it?” Rodney asked, patting down his pockets until he found his Blackberry. He checked his schedule and jumped up out of his seat, shoving the last tidbits of his lunch into his mouth as he stuffed everything back into its bag. “Crap! Sorry. Promised Samantha a copy of a program I’m working on. Should be able to fail twice the students in half the time with this one.”
“Always a fortuitous experience,” Teyla commented, rolling her eyes.
“Whatever,” Rodney shrugged her off. “You grade on aesthetics, I grade on undeniable facts, and the undeniable fact is that most of the kids I get stuck with have no right handling a vending machine, let alone a graphing calculator. But hey, I’m sure some will figure out either how to make pretty pictures on it or download them from someone who actually has a clue, so at least there’s that,” he added before taking off at what constituted top speed for him, students jumping out of his way in the process.
Teyla opened her mouth to protest, but John cut her off with a placating hand. “Don’t worry, ‘Back to the Future’ is already in tonight’s queue.”
“You know that’s just going to piss him off,” Ronon commented. John noticed he did not seem to be complaining.
Teyla grinned, happy once more. There would be bitching, there would be moaning, and there would be more than a single bottle of wine split between the four of them, but somehow they would muddle through yet another quarter at Atlantis High.
~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is always welcomed.
Genre: Gen, Team, AU
Length: ~ 1,650 words
Rating: PG-13
Synopsis: Lunchtime at the exclusive, and occasionally elusive, Atlantis High School.
Author’s Notes: For the cliche_bingo entry “high school/college AU”. Also, completes my first true bingo out of what’s been posted.
Disclaimer: Not mine, they belong to people with far more money than me. I’m just borrowing them and making no profit from this.
~~~~~~~~~~
“It’s not fair,” McKay complained, dropping both a stack of books and a bag of lunch down on the table. He collapsed into his chair with the grace of a rhino and started lining up his lunch items around the books.
“What’s not fair?” Sheppard asked, moving his cookies out of the way. Last time they got too close and herded in with the rest of McKay’s horde and he lost them all. It was not a mistake to be repeated.
“Woolsey,” he hissed as if that said it all. In a sense, it did. The pencil-necked principal was a pain in everyone’s ass but seemed to have it in for a certain segment more than others. Unfortunately, John knew exactly where he and Rodney fell in the scheme of things and it was not on the side of good.
“What did he do this time?” John asked, hurriedly shoving a cookie in his mouth. Just because they were out of obvious reach did not make them safe.
Rodney looked up from separating his sandwich from an elaborate layer of bright blue cling wrap. Everything was color-coded based on some system only McKay knew and Sheppard did not bother trying to figure out. “Okay, first? Ew,” Rodney said, gesturing to the crumbs now littering the table and freely falling from John’s mouth. “Secondly? It’s more like what he won’t do. He won’t let me fail my entire fifth period. Says it’s bad for morale. I offered to give the less Neolithic ones D’s instead, but he still won’t allow it.”
“Isn’t that your Basic Physics class?” John asked, reaching for the second cookie.
Rodney shoved half his sandwich in his mouth, putting John’s earlier display to shame. “Yes,” he said around a mouthful of corned beef. “And I wouldn’t even be forced to teach that crap if it hadn’t been for Woolsey’s insistence that we needed to ‘get some while they are still young’. Really? Now’s the time to weed them out. If they can’t figure out basic static equations, they have no business in the field.”
John nodded, actually commiserating with him for once. Most of McKay’s fifth period made up his own sixth. He wasn’t sure if it was the beat down from the hour before, or if they really were that listless and moronic even without the help, but if they could not figure out what the little squiggly line with numbers at the top and bottom meant after half a semester, he really wasn’t sure what he was going to do with them.
Anything else he was going to say was interrupted by two more people sliding in beside them at the table. “It is not my fault,” Teyla was protesting, lowering a little plastic box with what appeared to be kittens on it. Why they each had a pair of nun-chucks, John had no idea.
“Didn’t say it was,” Ronon shrugged, setting his own, much larger, metal box down beside hers. He pulled an energy drink out of one of his many pockets and started diving in.
“I do not believe Mr. Woolsey will see it that way,” Teyla sighed, opening a bottle of water and pausing to take a sip. “He would like a full report by the end of the day, complete with insurance forms. I’m not even sure if Michael will be out of the Emergency Room by then.”
John bit his lip and looked over to her, waiting for either elaboration or a full out report. When he got nothing but a matching pink thermos of soup, he broke first and asked, “Do I even want to know?”
She sighed, hesitating as she raised some unidentifiable food to her lips. “Do you remember my problem student? The one who is not actually in any of my classes but insists on hanging around the art room during his free period?” she asked.
He nodded. A lot of students did not report to study hall on their off hour, and Teyla was one of the few teachers who let them get away with her. Her only rule was that they could not disturb any classes in progress. Most students leapt at the opportunity as it meant wandering rights of the multiple art classrooms and a feeling of freedom versus the confinement of the study room.
“Kenmore? Michael Kenmore, right?” Rodney asked with a hint of glee in his eyes. “Does that mean I don’t have to deal with him next hour?”
“That is him,” she confirmed. She stirred her soup but made no move to wards actually eating any yet. “As for him returning, he was conscious when he was taken away, so I see no reason for all the fuss.”
John blinked, running all the scenarios through his mind, but still not seeing how it added up. “What did he do?” he finally asked.
She sighed heavily. “He approached me while I was setting up a loom for Marrin. He was full of his usual comments and innuendo, but this time would not back down.” She set her spoon down, giving up even the pretense of eating at this point. “He grabbed my wrist and I... reacted.”
Sheppard let out a low whistle, echoed by McKay. Teyla may have been the school’s favorite Art teacher, known for her love of designs coinciding with nature and her peace and love attitude, but she was also the only person in the school to ever go toe to toe with the head of the Physical Education department and win. Ronon still hadn’t lived that down. For Teyla, teaching Basket Weaving 101 went hand in hand with being a black belt in Tae Kwan Do. There were lines you did not cross with her, and invading her personal space without permission was definitely one of them.
“How bad?” Ronon winced.
“I had the shuttle full of waft thread in my hand at the time,” she hedged, receiving three identical looks for her efforts. She slumped in her seat. “Possible broken arm and concussion,” she grumbled.
“You broke it?” Rodney asked incredulously.
“I know,” she sighed, again. “And it was the perfect shuttle for that loom. I’ll have to carve a new one.”
“I think he means Kenmore’s arm,” John supplied helpfully.
She blinked. “Oh, that.” She picked up her spoon again and finally dug into what looked to be a decent minestrone. “He would not let go and would not stop his advances. I defended myself. Though, I probably should not have tossed him against the wall - that is where they believe he received the concussion. Josie’s painting was hanging there and it will have to be reframed.”
“Sounds fair to me,” Ronon growled. Somehow he had managed to down half his lunch during the discussion, pausing now to delicately wipe the corner of his mouth with his napkin. “Kid has some serious attitude issues, not to mention aggression. Should get kicked out for disrespecting a teacher that way.”
John didn’t argue that point, but did feel the need to ask, “What about you, are you okay?” He gave her a quick once over, but could not find even a single hair or leather fringe out of place.
She waived off his concern. “I am fine, though I might be late tonight if Mr. Woolsey is not satisfied with my report. Do you think he wants me to visit the hospital? I would prefer not to have to be in such close quarters with Michael or his family anytime soon.”
“Naw, call and see if he’s out; that should be good enough,” Ronon told her. John knew he was speaking from long years of multiple experiences.
They returned to their lunches in near silence for a moment before Rodney’s head shot up suddenly, a look of concern on his face. “Wait! What’s going on tonight and why wasn’t I invited?”
John rolled his eyes. “End of quarter get together - pizza, wine, and bad movies at my place while we try to weed out who’d going to pass and who’s going to get shot down to the remedial classes,” he reminded him.
“You’re invited. I’m picking you up,” Ronon reminded him. In a less than quiet aside, he added, “Told you he’d forget.”
“That’s tonight? What day is it?” Rodney asked, patting down his pockets until he found his Blackberry. He checked his schedule and jumped up out of his seat, shoving the last tidbits of his lunch into his mouth as he stuffed everything back into its bag. “Crap! Sorry. Promised Samantha a copy of a program I’m working on. Should be able to fail twice the students in half the time with this one.”
“Always a fortuitous experience,” Teyla commented, rolling her eyes.
“Whatever,” Rodney shrugged her off. “You grade on aesthetics, I grade on undeniable facts, and the undeniable fact is that most of the kids I get stuck with have no right handling a vending machine, let alone a graphing calculator. But hey, I’m sure some will figure out either how to make pretty pictures on it or download them from someone who actually has a clue, so at least there’s that,” he added before taking off at what constituted top speed for him, students jumping out of his way in the process.
Teyla opened her mouth to protest, but John cut her off with a placating hand. “Don’t worry, ‘Back to the Future’ is already in tonight’s queue.”
“You know that’s just going to piss him off,” Ronon commented. John noticed he did not seem to be complaining.
Teyla grinned, happy once more. There would be bitching, there would be moaning, and there would be more than a single bottle of wine split between the four of them, but somehow they would muddle through yet another quarter at Atlantis High.
~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is always welcomed.