WIP: And a Bag of Chips (Sheppard/McKay AU)
Okay, so I've never posted a WIP before, but it's been somewhat dead in the fandom and in my writing life, and I'm hoping this'll help motivate me provide you with entertainment. SGA Newsletter, please don't link to this while it's still a WIP.
So here we go! The first part of my high school AU - started a year ago, put away for eleven months, and picked back up and started working on again. If you've seen 'She's All That' and you hated it, this is the story for you! Let me know what you think!
Title: And a Bag of Chips: part one
Pairing: at the very least, John/Rodney
Rating: non-porny for now, eventually very porny
Length: 3,500 words
Summary: John suffers with his popularity. Rodney suffers not a whit.
Notes: In case it wasn't obvious above, this is a WIP! I make no promises, except that I love this premise and this story, which means, expect to see lots more.
“Well, if it isn’t Mr. Popular.”
“You know it,” John said lazily, reaching over to grab a handful of fries off of Teyla’s plate. The best thing about Teyla was that she took double portions of everything whenever he ate with her.
Bates and Ford sat down across from him. Ford waved a piece of paper in front of John’s nose.
“It’s official,” he said eagerly. “You’re the coolest guy in the school.”
“Huh?” John abandoned the rest of his burger and scanned the page. Oh crap, Senior Superlatives had been announced.
“You’re also most likely to make the cover of Sports Illustrated, hottest guy in the school, best smile, best eyes, and you tied with James for biggest flirt,” Elizabeth told him as she sat down. John automatically scooted over to give her more room.
Teyla took a cookie from John’s tray, dodging John’s half-hearted attempt to stop her. “I’m surprised they didn’t invent a category for dorkiest faces.” He frowned at her and she laughed. “Like that one.”
“I think he’s made enough lists already,” Bates said snidely. John suppressed a grimace. Bates was already jealous enough; he’d wanted to captain the track team, he’d been in the running for Homecoming King, he tried for everything and always came in second to John.
It was time to take some of the attention off himself. “What about you?” he asked Elizabeth. “Most likely to succeed?”
Elizabeth smiled brightly. “I also got best diplomat.”
“Not as cool as our boy Shep here,” Ford said proudly, and John wanted to throttle him. Sometimes the hero worship was a bit over the top.
Bates rolled his eyes and bit into his sandwich with enough force that a piece of turkey slid out the bottom. “Yeah, he’s the coolest of the cool.”
There were only two ways John could handle this, and he decided to go with the second. Challenging Bates wasn’t worth the time and energy. “That I am,” John told him, emphasizing the mild drawl he’d picked up during his two years in Texas. “In fact, just by being around me, you’re all even cooler than usual.”
Everybody laughed except for Bates, who attacked his sandwich a second time. “You’re so full of shit, Shep.”
“Hey, don’t blame me for my excessive powers of cool.” John smirked at his own turkey sandwich. “I try to use them only for good.”
“You never know what could happen if that cool was taken over to the dark side of the force,” Teyla said, and John bumped her shoulder. She always got the joke. It was what’d made them work for as long as they had.
“You know what?” Bates said suddenly. “Put your money where your mouth is.”
This was going to be bad; John could feel it already. “How so?”
“If you’re really as cool as you think you are, then I dare you to take somebody and make them just as popular as you.”
Over the hoots and catcalls from Ford and Elizabeth, John asked, “How could that even be measured.”
“Easy.” Bates smiled a nasty smile and John realized that this probably wasn’t a spur of the moment thought. “I pick the guy. You have two weeks to make him so popular Chaya Sar will say yes when he asks her to the Winter Formal.
The table went silent while they all turned and looked at Chaya Sar talking on her cell and ignoring anybody who tried to sit with her.
“Chaya Sar,” Elizabeth said slowly. “That might be too much even for you, John.”
Chaya had transferred in at the beginning of the year and instantly captured everybody’s attention. Guys and even a few girls had been splatting up against her like bugs against a windshield. She’d made it clear from the beginning that she considered almost everybody at McMillan to be beneath her notice - except guys like John. She’d sidled up to John at a party back in October and they’d made out few times but he’d seen the way she treated Teyla and Elizabeth, not to mention almost everybody else he knew and liked. John had no interest in dating poisonous bitches who only wanted him for his popularity. After he’d made that clear, the free sex had dried up - which John had regretted; she was hot as fuck after all - and they’d stayed far away from each other. It was easy because in her four months there, she’d barely spoken more than five words to anybody besides John.
“I can’t see why anybody would want to ask her,” John said. “She’d spend the whole prom quizzing him to find out his father’s stock portfolio. Besides, she’s probably already bringing some Harvard Law student.”
Bates shrugged. “That’s his problem. Yours is getting her to say yes in the first place.”
“What’s in it for me if I do?” John wasn’t seriously considering it - he’d lost the need to prove himself through dares after middle school - but he was interested in seeing how far Bates would take things.
“I’ll drop out of the running for Prom King.”
Now that might be worth his time. “And you won’t cry like the whiney bitch you are when I win?”
Bates ignored the laughter. “It’s not gonna happen. Cause when Chaya says no, you’re the one who’s going to drop out of the running.”
John didn’t give two shits about whether he was Prom King or not - especially when Chaya was sure to be the Queen. Giving Bates what was coming to him though…that would be reward enough. “Two weeks, huh?”
“And I pick the guy.”
Of course he did. “Fine with me. Give it your best.”
Bates looked around the quad and his eyes lit with triumph. “Rodney McKay.”
*
Rodney McKay. John had never talked to him, but he sure knew who Rodney was. Everybody did.
In a school where everybody wore jeans, Rodney wore shapeless khakis. In a school where solid-colors were all the rage, Rodney McKay had an endless supply of button-down plaid shirts. Because that alone wasn’t bad enough, he tended to wear them *underneath* an assortment of some of the dorkiest t-shirts John had ever seen. Rodney’s hair had no style and he always walked like he had to be somewhere so fast he was going to fall over his feet.
Most school troublemakers got thrown out of football games. Rodney’s expulsion from Odyssey of the Mind had made the school newspaper. After the science fair their freshman year, black, unmarked cars had stayed parked outside the school for months. “CIA,” everybody had said, but that was just stupid.
Rodney McKay was loud, rude, and obnoxious. He was famous for telling his sophomore year chemistry teacher he had no patience for anybody whose IQ was less than half of his. Social ostracism didn’t scare him. Blatant hatred didn’t faze him. Shortly into their freshman year of school, Tony DeMassa, the captain of the basketball team, had made the mistake of giving Rodney a wedgie in the hallway. Less than one week later, he’d been expelled from school under circumstances that nobody ever talked about. Anybody with a brain - or at least some sense of self-preservation - stayed far, far away from Rodney McKay.
He was the perfect choice.
*
After practice, John showered and walked over to the geek hall. Four years at McMillan and he’d never been through the front door.
Elizabeth - who knew everything about everybody in the school - had told him that Rodney was usually there until dark, messing with some thing or another. John poked his head into three abandoned labs before he found what he was looking for: Rodney and another guy sitting in the back corner huddled over what looked like a remote-control with no casing.
“Rodney, hi.” Rodney looked up and John smiled winningly.
“Sheppard,” Rodney said dismissively. “You lost? The Young Republicans usually meet three floors up.”
John suppressed a wince; at least Rodney knew his name. “I was looking for you.”
“How nice of you, but I’ve already bought my quota of Girl Scout cookies for the year.”
“That’s not why I’m here.”
Rodney sighed and glared at John. “Of course it’s not. There’s only one reason mouth-breathers come looking for me and let me tell you, I’ve had it up to here with jocks like you assuming I have nothing better to do that spend my precious free time trying to pummel your brain into emitting some tiny signs of intelligence. You can’t get blood from a stone, you know. Not to mention -“
“Rodney,” the guy next to him said in a softly accented voice. “I do not think he is here to ask for tutoring.”
Rodney actually stopped for a few seconds. John was tempted to check his watch; it was the longest he’d ever heard of Rodney shutting up. “He’s not? You’re not?” he asked, turning to address John directly.
John gave him his best version of his ‘how can you resist this face?’ smile, but Rodney didn’t even blink. “No, I’m not.”
“Why? Have you accepted your rank at the lower end of the feeding pool?”
“Actually,” John said, because the twist of Rodney’s sneer made him itch to throw him off-balance, “I’m in the top 3% of our class.”
That got him an entire thirty seconds of silence. “You are?”
John reapplied the smile. “You know what they say about assumptions, Rodney.”
“Yes, they say that only somebody who’s an ass himself would use such a stupid quote.” Rodney turned back to the dissected remote and plunged his hands into the mass of wiring. “Now if you’re all done, I’m quite busy at the moment.”
This was going to be even harder than he’d anticipated. “I’m not done,” he said as pleasantly as possible, because he had a feeling that Rodney wasn’t used to people responding so politely. Hopefully it would drive Rodney nuts.
Rodney didn’t even spare him a look. “Then get on with it and stop wasting my time.”
“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I just wanted to talk to you?”
Rodney snorted. “No.”
That was vaguely insulting. “Well, here I am, talking to you.”
“Yes, here you are bothering me with your inane chatter and a smile that’s probably been working for you since you were a baby and wanted the last cookie.”
“Rodney,” the guy with the accent said. “Maybe he is not joking.”
“I don’t care if he’s joking or not. You may be interested in talking to me, but unless you can illustrate the finer points of building a remote for a Cessna, I’m not interested in talking to you.”
John took a closer look at the table. “You mean a Cessna 182 ARF?”
That worked. Rodney’s head snapped up and he narrowed his eyes at John. “You know the model?”
John shrugged. “I’ve been playing with remote-control planes since I was a kid. It’s a beginner’s model.”
“Fine then, I’m interested in talking to you. Get over here and tell me why it isn’t connecting.” John didn’t move and Rodney snapped his fingers. “Burning daylight here!”
With a roll of his eyes, John complied.
*
It took them almost an hour to rewire the remote, and by the time they’d finished, it was full dark.
John stretched and yawned. Watching Rodney work had been surprisingly restful. Aside from snapping out orders, he hadn’t talked to John at all; his entire focus had been on the remote. He’d occasionally talked to his friend, Zelenka, but mostly he’d muttered to himself, and hummed whenever things were going well.
“Rodney, I must hurry if I am to catch the last bus,” Zelenka said, and then turned to give John a quiet smile. “Thank you for your assistance.”
“Yes,” Rodney said grudgingly, “I guess you’re not a total waste of space after all.”
John couldn’t help grinning. It was pretty entertaining listening to Rodney’s endless barrage of insults and sarcasm. “You guys need a ride?”
“I am good,” Zelenka said smiling slyly, “but Rodney lives far away and has only a bicycle.”
“There’s nothing wrong with a bike!” Rodney said loudly. “I’ll be just fine.”
“C’mon, Rodney, let me give you a ride. There’s enough space in the back of my car for your bike and you’ll be home in half the time.” John didn’t wait for Rodney’s inevitable protests, just grabbed the remote and held it hostage.
“You really are a Neanderthal.” Rodney hurriedly finished packing up his bag, and followed John out the door, nodding to Zelenka as he passed.
“It’s my curse in life,” John said gravely and suppressed his triumph at Rodney’s reluctant smile.
“If there’s even a hint of a scratch on it, I’ll dismantle your shocks,” Rodney told him after the twenty minutes it’d taken to make sure the bike was arranged in his car to Rodney’s satisfaction.
“That wasn’t what I was expecting you to say.”
“What were you expecting me to say?
John schooled his face into a sad expression. “Well usually people say something along the lines of ‘I had a real nice time.’”
Rodney gave him an odd look. “What?”
“That’s what you’re supposed to say to your dates at the end of the night.”
“What?” Rodney sounded vaguely panicked.
“You mean this isn’t a date?”
Rodney started to stutter and then looked over at John’s innocently widened eyes. “You’re a real asshole, you know that?”
John laughed and changed the radio station to NPR so that Rodney could have something new to bitch about.
*
“Oh yeah, I can see his aura of cool already,” Bates said as Rodney came out the door of the cafeteria. “You ready to admit defeat yet, Shep?”
John ignored him and waved over at Rodney. “Hey, McKay,” he called, “I saved you a space.”
He could see Rodney’s scathing look all the way across the quad. “I come to school to raise my IQ, not lower it,” Rodney yelled back. Beside him, Teyla choked out a laugh.
“You’re not helping,” John muttered to her.
Teyla smiled. “I was not aware I was supposed to.”
*
“Hey, McKay.”
“Oh, you again.” Rodney didn’t even look up this time. “Don’t you have anything better to do than bother me?”
“Nope,” John said cheerfully, and sat down on the nearest stool. It spun and he grinned. “Cool.”
“Yes, because nothing is more fun than nausea. Stop it.”
John sighed, gave the stool one last spin and complied. “Anything for you. So, what’cha doing today?”
“Nothing that you’d understand.” Rodney waved a hand dismissively. “If you’re not going to leave, at least make yourself useful and hand me that wrench.”
John gave him the wrench and then regretfully got off the stool, giving it a pat. He wandered over to the stereo in the corner of the room, and searched through the tapes until he found something acceptable.
Rodney snorted when the music started playing. “Of course you’d choose this. Touch that laptop and die.”
John pulled his hand back and tried his hardest to suppress a flush. He didn’t usually play Johnny Cash around others - it wasn’t the kind of music everybody else listened to. “I just grabbed the first tape I saw; didn’t know what it was.”
That was enough to make Rodney remove his head from whatever it was he was doing. He gave John a comprehensive look, sweeping all the way up and down. This time John couldn’t stop the flush, because Rodney focusing all of that attention on him was…it was just weird was all.
“What?” he said, wincing inside at how defensive he sounded.
“Grabbed the first tape? It’d be a lot more believable if you weren’t a walking fashion tribute.”
John looked down at his outfit - black shirt, black pants, black sneakers, black jacket - totally cool. Then he looked at Rodney’s outfit - yellow and green striped button-down shirt over some sort of gray flannel thing, pants so baggy he was surprised even a belt could hold them up ,and were those *hiking boots*? - and couldn’t keep from laughing. “Figures you wouldn’t get it.”
Rodney rolled his eyes. “Because I care so much. Some of us have better things to do than bond with our Tigi Bedhead every morning.”
Oh, that was so unfair. With hair that curly, there was no way Rodney didn’t use anything. Plus, how the hell did he even know what Tigi was? John got ready to ask, but apparently Rodney was turning into a mind reader as well, because he just waved a hand again and said, “sister in middle school.” Yeah, that would do it.
“I’m just saying,” John said.
“Yes, well don’t say.” Rodney closed his laptop and gave John his full attention. Again. John was starting to feel special. “Why are you doing this anyway?”
“Doing what?”
“Following me around like a lost puppy.”
John shrugged. “Why not?”
“Give, Sheppard.” Rodney snapped his fingers - again. He’d done it so often in the past twenty-four hours that John was starting to feel his own knuckles aching in sympathy. Some of us have work to do. Tell me why or get out of my way.”
John considered lying for approximately one tenth of a second, before dismissing the idea. Things like that always rebounded on people. There was no reason not to tell Rodney the truth, except for the part where he was actually going to say all of it out loud.
“Okay, so -“ There was really no way to do this gracefully. “I made a bet with Bates that I could get you to ask Chaya Sar to the Winter Formal in two weeks or less.”
Rodney stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “Have you lost your mind?”
John nodded miserably, because, yes, when he thought about it that way, clearly he *had* lost his mind.
“What on god’s green earth would make you think I’d go along with something like that? Do I look like I’m harboring deep, secret dreams of popularity? Waiting for girls like Chaya to sweep me off my feet and take me away from all of this?” Rodney’s eyes narrowed. “This is why you were saying those things about my clothes, isn’t it?”
There really wasn’t any point in trying to defend himself. Besides, from the look of things, Rodney was on a roll.
“This is why I don’t waste my time with people like you, Sheppard. And since I don’t have any more time to waste, let me explain my position very clearly. I’ll even use small words so you’ll understand. I do not want to ask Chaya Sar to the Winter Formal. I will never want to ask Chaya Sar to the Winter Formal. There is nothing you can say or do that will make me ask Chaya Sar to the Winter Formal.”
Rodney paused for breath, and John saw his chance. “Rodney, look, it was a stupid idea, I know. I figured that out five minutes after we started talking.”
“Then why did you keep sticking around?” There was a brief flicker of hurt in Rodney’s eyes, so quick that John would’ve missed it if he wasn’t watching Rodney’s face so closely. “I thought you had a tiny shred of potential. I thought…Radek always told me I’d be wrong about something one day.
This was worse than the time he’d made his mother cry after he’d licked a battery and knocked himself out. At least then he’d been young and stupid. This time, there was no excuse.
“Rodney -“
“Don’t bother,” Rodney said dismissively and picked up his laptop, opening it and tying furiously. “Now I know why you’ve been hanging around, and you know why you didn’t win ‘Most Likely to Succeed.’ Stop the charade and just leave.”
John left.
*
So it was over.
John stared at the ceiling, waiting for the relief to come. He’d never really cared about winning and nobody in their right mind wanted to spend time around Rodney McKay.
No more wasting his time in rooms with no windows and the smell of burnt plastic in the air; no more insults about his awesome fashion sense; no more fucking snapping fingers.
No more sarcastic eyes that looked at John like they could see right into him and find him lacking. John got enough of that already.
He had better things to do with his time, anyway. Even if it had been fun to make Rodney laugh. And blush - that was especially fun and now he wasn’t going to get to do it anymore, because Rodney was never going to speak to him again. Not that John cared.
He sighed and hit ‘repeat’ on the remote. Johnny had it so right - life *wasn’t* easy for a boy named Sue.
ETA: Also, it's free cone day at Ben and Jerry's! Find your local scoop shop, get there before eight, and get a free cone! They tend to have about ten flavors to choose from - I got Cinnamon Buns, which I've been dying to try, and it was so very, very worth it.
So here we go! The first part of my high school AU - started a year ago, put away for eleven months, and picked back up and started working on again. If you've seen 'She's All That' and you hated it, this is the story for you! Let me know what you think!
Title: And a Bag of Chips: part one
Pairing: at the very least, John/Rodney
Rating: non-porny for now, eventually very porny
Length: 3,500 words
Summary: John suffers with his popularity. Rodney suffers not a whit.
Notes: In case it wasn't obvious above, this is a WIP! I make no promises, except that I love this premise and this story, which means, expect to see lots more.
“Well, if it isn’t Mr. Popular.”
“You know it,” John said lazily, reaching over to grab a handful of fries off of Teyla’s plate. The best thing about Teyla was that she took double portions of everything whenever he ate with her.
Bates and Ford sat down across from him. Ford waved a piece of paper in front of John’s nose.
“It’s official,” he said eagerly. “You’re the coolest guy in the school.”
“Huh?” John abandoned the rest of his burger and scanned the page. Oh crap, Senior Superlatives had been announced.
“You’re also most likely to make the cover of Sports Illustrated, hottest guy in the school, best smile, best eyes, and you tied with James for biggest flirt,” Elizabeth told him as she sat down. John automatically scooted over to give her more room.
Teyla took a cookie from John’s tray, dodging John’s half-hearted attempt to stop her. “I’m surprised they didn’t invent a category for dorkiest faces.” He frowned at her and she laughed. “Like that one.”
“I think he’s made enough lists already,” Bates said snidely. John suppressed a grimace. Bates was already jealous enough; he’d wanted to captain the track team, he’d been in the running for Homecoming King, he tried for everything and always came in second to John.
It was time to take some of the attention off himself. “What about you?” he asked Elizabeth. “Most likely to succeed?”
Elizabeth smiled brightly. “I also got best diplomat.”
“Not as cool as our boy Shep here,” Ford said proudly, and John wanted to throttle him. Sometimes the hero worship was a bit over the top.
Bates rolled his eyes and bit into his sandwich with enough force that a piece of turkey slid out the bottom. “Yeah, he’s the coolest of the cool.”
There were only two ways John could handle this, and he decided to go with the second. Challenging Bates wasn’t worth the time and energy. “That I am,” John told him, emphasizing the mild drawl he’d picked up during his two years in Texas. “In fact, just by being around me, you’re all even cooler than usual.”
Everybody laughed except for Bates, who attacked his sandwich a second time. “You’re so full of shit, Shep.”
“Hey, don’t blame me for my excessive powers of cool.” John smirked at his own turkey sandwich. “I try to use them only for good.”
“You never know what could happen if that cool was taken over to the dark side of the force,” Teyla said, and John bumped her shoulder. She always got the joke. It was what’d made them work for as long as they had.
“You know what?” Bates said suddenly. “Put your money where your mouth is.”
This was going to be bad; John could feel it already. “How so?”
“If you’re really as cool as you think you are, then I dare you to take somebody and make them just as popular as you.”
Over the hoots and catcalls from Ford and Elizabeth, John asked, “How could that even be measured.”
“Easy.” Bates smiled a nasty smile and John realized that this probably wasn’t a spur of the moment thought. “I pick the guy. You have two weeks to make him so popular Chaya Sar will say yes when he asks her to the Winter Formal.
The table went silent while they all turned and looked at Chaya Sar talking on her cell and ignoring anybody who tried to sit with her.
“Chaya Sar,” Elizabeth said slowly. “That might be too much even for you, John.”
Chaya had transferred in at the beginning of the year and instantly captured everybody’s attention. Guys and even a few girls had been splatting up against her like bugs against a windshield. She’d made it clear from the beginning that she considered almost everybody at McMillan to be beneath her notice - except guys like John. She’d sidled up to John at a party back in October and they’d made out few times but he’d seen the way she treated Teyla and Elizabeth, not to mention almost everybody else he knew and liked. John had no interest in dating poisonous bitches who only wanted him for his popularity. After he’d made that clear, the free sex had dried up - which John had regretted; she was hot as fuck after all - and they’d stayed far away from each other. It was easy because in her four months there, she’d barely spoken more than five words to anybody besides John.
“I can’t see why anybody would want to ask her,” John said. “She’d spend the whole prom quizzing him to find out his father’s stock portfolio. Besides, she’s probably already bringing some Harvard Law student.”
Bates shrugged. “That’s his problem. Yours is getting her to say yes in the first place.”
“What’s in it for me if I do?” John wasn’t seriously considering it - he’d lost the need to prove himself through dares after middle school - but he was interested in seeing how far Bates would take things.
“I’ll drop out of the running for Prom King.”
Now that might be worth his time. “And you won’t cry like the whiney bitch you are when I win?”
Bates ignored the laughter. “It’s not gonna happen. Cause when Chaya says no, you’re the one who’s going to drop out of the running.”
John didn’t give two shits about whether he was Prom King or not - especially when Chaya was sure to be the Queen. Giving Bates what was coming to him though…that would be reward enough. “Two weeks, huh?”
“And I pick the guy.”
Of course he did. “Fine with me. Give it your best.”
Bates looked around the quad and his eyes lit with triumph. “Rodney McKay.”
*
Rodney McKay. John had never talked to him, but he sure knew who Rodney was. Everybody did.
In a school where everybody wore jeans, Rodney wore shapeless khakis. In a school where solid-colors were all the rage, Rodney McKay had an endless supply of button-down plaid shirts. Because that alone wasn’t bad enough, he tended to wear them *underneath* an assortment of some of the dorkiest t-shirts John had ever seen. Rodney’s hair had no style and he always walked like he had to be somewhere so fast he was going to fall over his feet.
Most school troublemakers got thrown out of football games. Rodney’s expulsion from Odyssey of the Mind had made the school newspaper. After the science fair their freshman year, black, unmarked cars had stayed parked outside the school for months. “CIA,” everybody had said, but that was just stupid.
Rodney McKay was loud, rude, and obnoxious. He was famous for telling his sophomore year chemistry teacher he had no patience for anybody whose IQ was less than half of his. Social ostracism didn’t scare him. Blatant hatred didn’t faze him. Shortly into their freshman year of school, Tony DeMassa, the captain of the basketball team, had made the mistake of giving Rodney a wedgie in the hallway. Less than one week later, he’d been expelled from school under circumstances that nobody ever talked about. Anybody with a brain - or at least some sense of self-preservation - stayed far, far away from Rodney McKay.
He was the perfect choice.
*
After practice, John showered and walked over to the geek hall. Four years at McMillan and he’d never been through the front door.
Elizabeth - who knew everything about everybody in the school - had told him that Rodney was usually there until dark, messing with some thing or another. John poked his head into three abandoned labs before he found what he was looking for: Rodney and another guy sitting in the back corner huddled over what looked like a remote-control with no casing.
“Rodney, hi.” Rodney looked up and John smiled winningly.
“Sheppard,” Rodney said dismissively. “You lost? The Young Republicans usually meet three floors up.”
John suppressed a wince; at least Rodney knew his name. “I was looking for you.”
“How nice of you, but I’ve already bought my quota of Girl Scout cookies for the year.”
“That’s not why I’m here.”
Rodney sighed and glared at John. “Of course it’s not. There’s only one reason mouth-breathers come looking for me and let me tell you, I’ve had it up to here with jocks like you assuming I have nothing better to do that spend my precious free time trying to pummel your brain into emitting some tiny signs of intelligence. You can’t get blood from a stone, you know. Not to mention -“
“Rodney,” the guy next to him said in a softly accented voice. “I do not think he is here to ask for tutoring.”
Rodney actually stopped for a few seconds. John was tempted to check his watch; it was the longest he’d ever heard of Rodney shutting up. “He’s not? You’re not?” he asked, turning to address John directly.
John gave him his best version of his ‘how can you resist this face?’ smile, but Rodney didn’t even blink. “No, I’m not.”
“Why? Have you accepted your rank at the lower end of the feeding pool?”
“Actually,” John said, because the twist of Rodney’s sneer made him itch to throw him off-balance, “I’m in the top 3% of our class.”
That got him an entire thirty seconds of silence. “You are?”
John reapplied the smile. “You know what they say about assumptions, Rodney.”
“Yes, they say that only somebody who’s an ass himself would use such a stupid quote.” Rodney turned back to the dissected remote and plunged his hands into the mass of wiring. “Now if you’re all done, I’m quite busy at the moment.”
This was going to be even harder than he’d anticipated. “I’m not done,” he said as pleasantly as possible, because he had a feeling that Rodney wasn’t used to people responding so politely. Hopefully it would drive Rodney nuts.
Rodney didn’t even spare him a look. “Then get on with it and stop wasting my time.”
“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I just wanted to talk to you?”
Rodney snorted. “No.”
That was vaguely insulting. “Well, here I am, talking to you.”
“Yes, here you are bothering me with your inane chatter and a smile that’s probably been working for you since you were a baby and wanted the last cookie.”
“Rodney,” the guy with the accent said. “Maybe he is not joking.”
“I don’t care if he’s joking or not. You may be interested in talking to me, but unless you can illustrate the finer points of building a remote for a Cessna, I’m not interested in talking to you.”
John took a closer look at the table. “You mean a Cessna 182 ARF?”
That worked. Rodney’s head snapped up and he narrowed his eyes at John. “You know the model?”
John shrugged. “I’ve been playing with remote-control planes since I was a kid. It’s a beginner’s model.”
“Fine then, I’m interested in talking to you. Get over here and tell me why it isn’t connecting.” John didn’t move and Rodney snapped his fingers. “Burning daylight here!”
With a roll of his eyes, John complied.
*
It took them almost an hour to rewire the remote, and by the time they’d finished, it was full dark.
John stretched and yawned. Watching Rodney work had been surprisingly restful. Aside from snapping out orders, he hadn’t talked to John at all; his entire focus had been on the remote. He’d occasionally talked to his friend, Zelenka, but mostly he’d muttered to himself, and hummed whenever things were going well.
“Rodney, I must hurry if I am to catch the last bus,” Zelenka said, and then turned to give John a quiet smile. “Thank you for your assistance.”
“Yes,” Rodney said grudgingly, “I guess you’re not a total waste of space after all.”
John couldn’t help grinning. It was pretty entertaining listening to Rodney’s endless barrage of insults and sarcasm. “You guys need a ride?”
“I am good,” Zelenka said smiling slyly, “but Rodney lives far away and has only a bicycle.”
“There’s nothing wrong with a bike!” Rodney said loudly. “I’ll be just fine.”
“C’mon, Rodney, let me give you a ride. There’s enough space in the back of my car for your bike and you’ll be home in half the time.” John didn’t wait for Rodney’s inevitable protests, just grabbed the remote and held it hostage.
“You really are a Neanderthal.” Rodney hurriedly finished packing up his bag, and followed John out the door, nodding to Zelenka as he passed.
“It’s my curse in life,” John said gravely and suppressed his triumph at Rodney’s reluctant smile.
“If there’s even a hint of a scratch on it, I’ll dismantle your shocks,” Rodney told him after the twenty minutes it’d taken to make sure the bike was arranged in his car to Rodney’s satisfaction.
“That wasn’t what I was expecting you to say.”
“What were you expecting me to say?
John schooled his face into a sad expression. “Well usually people say something along the lines of ‘I had a real nice time.’”
Rodney gave him an odd look. “What?”
“That’s what you’re supposed to say to your dates at the end of the night.”
“What?” Rodney sounded vaguely panicked.
“You mean this isn’t a date?”
Rodney started to stutter and then looked over at John’s innocently widened eyes. “You’re a real asshole, you know that?”
John laughed and changed the radio station to NPR so that Rodney could have something new to bitch about.
*
“Oh yeah, I can see his aura of cool already,” Bates said as Rodney came out the door of the cafeteria. “You ready to admit defeat yet, Shep?”
John ignored him and waved over at Rodney. “Hey, McKay,” he called, “I saved you a space.”
He could see Rodney’s scathing look all the way across the quad. “I come to school to raise my IQ, not lower it,” Rodney yelled back. Beside him, Teyla choked out a laugh.
“You’re not helping,” John muttered to her.
Teyla smiled. “I was not aware I was supposed to.”
*
“Hey, McKay.”
“Oh, you again.” Rodney didn’t even look up this time. “Don’t you have anything better to do than bother me?”
“Nope,” John said cheerfully, and sat down on the nearest stool. It spun and he grinned. “Cool.”
“Yes, because nothing is more fun than nausea. Stop it.”
John sighed, gave the stool one last spin and complied. “Anything for you. So, what’cha doing today?”
“Nothing that you’d understand.” Rodney waved a hand dismissively. “If you’re not going to leave, at least make yourself useful and hand me that wrench.”
John gave him the wrench and then regretfully got off the stool, giving it a pat. He wandered over to the stereo in the corner of the room, and searched through the tapes until he found something acceptable.
Rodney snorted when the music started playing. “Of course you’d choose this. Touch that laptop and die.”
John pulled his hand back and tried his hardest to suppress a flush. He didn’t usually play Johnny Cash around others - it wasn’t the kind of music everybody else listened to. “I just grabbed the first tape I saw; didn’t know what it was.”
That was enough to make Rodney remove his head from whatever it was he was doing. He gave John a comprehensive look, sweeping all the way up and down. This time John couldn’t stop the flush, because Rodney focusing all of that attention on him was…it was just weird was all.
“What?” he said, wincing inside at how defensive he sounded.
“Grabbed the first tape? It’d be a lot more believable if you weren’t a walking fashion tribute.”
John looked down at his outfit - black shirt, black pants, black sneakers, black jacket - totally cool. Then he looked at Rodney’s outfit - yellow and green striped button-down shirt over some sort of gray flannel thing, pants so baggy he was surprised even a belt could hold them up ,and were those *hiking boots*? - and couldn’t keep from laughing. “Figures you wouldn’t get it.”
Rodney rolled his eyes. “Because I care so much. Some of us have better things to do than bond with our Tigi Bedhead every morning.”
Oh, that was so unfair. With hair that curly, there was no way Rodney didn’t use anything. Plus, how the hell did he even know what Tigi was? John got ready to ask, but apparently Rodney was turning into a mind reader as well, because he just waved a hand again and said, “sister in middle school.” Yeah, that would do it.
“I’m just saying,” John said.
“Yes, well don’t say.” Rodney closed his laptop and gave John his full attention. Again. John was starting to feel special. “Why are you doing this anyway?”
“Doing what?”
“Following me around like a lost puppy.”
John shrugged. “Why not?”
“Give, Sheppard.” Rodney snapped his fingers - again. He’d done it so often in the past twenty-four hours that John was starting to feel his own knuckles aching in sympathy. Some of us have work to do. Tell me why or get out of my way.”
John considered lying for approximately one tenth of a second, before dismissing the idea. Things like that always rebounded on people. There was no reason not to tell Rodney the truth, except for the part where he was actually going to say all of it out loud.
“Okay, so -“ There was really no way to do this gracefully. “I made a bet with Bates that I could get you to ask Chaya Sar to the Winter Formal in two weeks or less.”
Rodney stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “Have you lost your mind?”
John nodded miserably, because, yes, when he thought about it that way, clearly he *had* lost his mind.
“What on god’s green earth would make you think I’d go along with something like that? Do I look like I’m harboring deep, secret dreams of popularity? Waiting for girls like Chaya to sweep me off my feet and take me away from all of this?” Rodney’s eyes narrowed. “This is why you were saying those things about my clothes, isn’t it?”
There really wasn’t any point in trying to defend himself. Besides, from the look of things, Rodney was on a roll.
“This is why I don’t waste my time with people like you, Sheppard. And since I don’t have any more time to waste, let me explain my position very clearly. I’ll even use small words so you’ll understand. I do not want to ask Chaya Sar to the Winter Formal. I will never want to ask Chaya Sar to the Winter Formal. There is nothing you can say or do that will make me ask Chaya Sar to the Winter Formal.”
Rodney paused for breath, and John saw his chance. “Rodney, look, it was a stupid idea, I know. I figured that out five minutes after we started talking.”
“Then why did you keep sticking around?” There was a brief flicker of hurt in Rodney’s eyes, so quick that John would’ve missed it if he wasn’t watching Rodney’s face so closely. “I thought you had a tiny shred of potential. I thought…Radek always told me I’d be wrong about something one day.
This was worse than the time he’d made his mother cry after he’d licked a battery and knocked himself out. At least then he’d been young and stupid. This time, there was no excuse.
“Rodney -“
“Don’t bother,” Rodney said dismissively and picked up his laptop, opening it and tying furiously. “Now I know why you’ve been hanging around, and you know why you didn’t win ‘Most Likely to Succeed.’ Stop the charade and just leave.”
John left.
*
So it was over.
John stared at the ceiling, waiting for the relief to come. He’d never really cared about winning and nobody in their right mind wanted to spend time around Rodney McKay.
No more wasting his time in rooms with no windows and the smell of burnt plastic in the air; no more insults about his awesome fashion sense; no more fucking snapping fingers.
No more sarcastic eyes that looked at John like they could see right into him and find him lacking. John got enough of that already.
He had better things to do with his time, anyway. Even if it had been fun to make Rodney laugh. And blush - that was especially fun and now he wasn’t going to get to do it anymore, because Rodney was never going to speak to him again. Not that John cared.
He sighed and hit ‘repeat’ on the remote. Johnny had it so right - life *wasn’t* easy for a boy named Sue.
ETA: Also, it's free cone day at Ben and Jerry's! Find your local scoop shop, get there before eight, and get a free cone! They tend to have about ten flavors to choose from - I got Cinnamon Buns, which I've been dying to try, and it was so very, very worth it.