(no subject)
these people are funnier than me
I dedicate this story to Slod, my one true love.
Contrary to some people's unfounded opinions (looking at you, Heightmeyer), John actually knows that his emotional IQ isn't very high. Welling, though, is probably a sociopath.
"Why did you have to shoot him?" Debriefings with Welling are always full of yuks.
Tom just looks at him and smiles. "Chances are he was going to kill someone or blow something up eventually. That's all the Genii do." He shrugs.
"That's true, but we don't endorse ethnic cleansing." John looks over his shoulder at Weir. "Do we?"
"No, we don't. However, Tom's probably right about Kolya."
John shakes his finger at Tom. "Don't go around shooting people all willy-nilly from now on, ok?"
Tom smiles bigger, scaring a squeak out of Rodney. "Sure thing. See you in the mess." He leaves without being dismissed. They really need to work on their discipline around here. John watches his back through the glass walls of Weir's office.
"That man is a walking catastrophe waiting to happen, not unlike yourself, and come to think of it, maybe we should have all the gate teams lead by women from now on, I nominate Teyla, actually, maybe what all the teams need is an Athosian to act as a sort of human dampener…"
"Rodney…" John looks over his shoulder where Rodney's fluttering his hands around his face and looking too introspective for the welfare of John's good humor.
"Dr. McKay has a point…" Weir begins.
"You know, every time you say that, Rodney blows up an entire solar system." John smirks.
"Hey!" Rodney points a finger at John, all the thoughts of sticking his pointy nose into John's off-world teams vanishing in puff of righteous indignation.
Score!
*
Major Chad Murray (AIA, 480th Wing) looks down at the chicken scratch on the scrap of paper Dr. Jared Padalecki hands him and scowls. "What the fuck do you want me to do with this?"
"Dude, translate it!" Jared snaps his homemade gum and gestures at the paper. "It's the recipe for apricot brandy, but I figure I can use those weird star fruit suckers from Ping-Pong."
Chad brushes a hand over his hair and squints. "Um. Ping-pong?"
Jared rolls his eyes. "M6G-something-who-gives-a-rat's-ass. Ping-Pong. It had those natives that played ping-pong with the seeds from the star fruit things."
"Is this their language?" Chad scrutinizes the paper, because it's written in the latin alphabet, but that could be transliteration…
"Fuck no! Zelenka wrote the recipe in code because I call him Shortstuff."
Chad glowers at the paper. "Is it in code and Czech?"
"Who the fuck knows, dude. But I need that recipe."
"This has something to do with Rosenbaum, right?"
"How did you guess? This place is filled to the gills with geniuses. Get crackin'!" Jared slaps Chad on the back so hard Harley and Sadie both leap to their feet, their spines raising on their backs.
"Seriously, one day I'm going to kill you."
Ozzie leaps to his feet and all three animals start bounding around and squawking.
"Hey now, Nutclopse, simmer!" Jared yells when Ozzie leaps up on his leg.
"Stop calling him that." Chad, as he does seventeen thousand times a day, thinks that he was better off in Langley. God, what has his life come to that he really means it? He should have stayed with the Athosians*.
Jared whoops and hitches his hemp pants up.
"Goddamned hippie." Chad takes in the code in a holistic way and sees an immediate grammar relation between the words. Physicists are so fucking predictable.
*
Captain Michael Rosenbaum, USAF, looks down at the pipettes and beakers on the lab bench and back up at David's face. "This is space crank, right?"
Dr. David Boreanaz, Ph.D, biochemist, looks down at the precipitating fluid and smiles bright and wide. "Look, you can call it space crank, but I've already named it Pegicrack."
"Fine!" Mike scratches the side of his face. "You have any random shit turn on in here?"
Dave looks around the lab, located on Tier Four, Pier Two, deep in the no-no zone of Atlantis, and shrugs. "Couple things, hee, who knows what they do?"
Mike cuts his eyes to Dave. Definitely been sampling the goods. "Man, dealers don't use their own merch, get right with god."
Dave rolls his eyes and fires up the Ancient Bunsen burner. "It's not addictive. I tested it on McKay."
"You gave it to him for free?" Mike doesn't like to go all high-octave like that, but HELL.
Dave rolls his eyes again and smirks. "Seriously? I told him it was alien coffee."
*
Right, so, Jensen really has had it up to HERE with Carson today.
"No, I wouldn't call it an Athosian wild yam. But you know what? I'm not a gee-dee botanist, either. I'm a physician, and I was hung over the day in physiology that we discussed the thigh bone being attached to the alien tuber." Jensen takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. He's getting a migraine.
Carson completely ignores everything Jensen just said. "Well, I think that by synthesizing the compound found in this Athosian wild yam, which I think needs to classified in Dioscorea…"
"Carson, why do you know the latin name for fucking yams" Jensen needs a drink. Thank fucking God and Dupont for Dave's stills.
"…we can make a pretty reliable form of contraception." Carson just barrels on.
"Yeah, well, get back to me when you invent the Pegasus Pill, ok? Until then, take your tubers to the chem lab because they're unsanitary." Jensen feels sort of bad for taking things out on Carson so much, but the guy's got Teflon for skin. Hanging out with McKay and Sheppard all the time probably did that to him.
"Yes, you're probably right, Jensen, tracking dirt in here was uncalled for. I'm sorry." Carson looks sheepish.
Jensen feels like a giant asshole.
"You wanna grab something to eat? Ronon'll come and he can beat up the lunch lady and get you some pudding." Jensen's started calling all dessert pudding because of Carson.
Carson brightens immediately. "Why, yes, Jensen, I'd like that a great deal. Let me just…" he sticks the yams in his lab coat pocket.
*
McKay stumbles as he passes by Dr. Mack's work bench. "Oops, sorry, sorry, hope I didn't jostle anything, uh, vital, not that I'm watching when things jostle per se, I mean…"
Allison looks up at him and smiles. Rodney melts a little. "Oh." He says, smiling back without realizing it.
*
"How are things coming along with the animals you found on M6R-185?" Weir catches Jared in the hallway leading to the gym.
Jared smiles down at her, nervous, but what the fuck? They are so not gonna eat his babies.
"Great. The Athosians're crack farmers."
She tilts her head a little, like a creepy bird. "I see, well, excellent, we can use the protein." She pauses. "What?"
His face gave him away again, he realizes. "Nothing, it's just that humans can get enough sustainable protein from legumes." He didn't mean to say that, but, fuck it, what is her problem?
"Yes, but they don't taste like chicken!" She grins at him and he thinks about smacking the smile right off her face.
"Uh huh." The fuck is wrong with people? Can't she see how cute his babies are?
Her smile fades and she lifts an eyebrow. "Ok then. I guess I'll see you at the weekly briefing tomorrow."
Jared can't get outta there fast enough. No way the Athosians are forking over the animals, either, after Jared told him they were sacred in his religion. He giggles to himself, it's beans for Weir, that weirdo.
Who isn't a vegetarian now-a-days anyway? Or at least a poultryatarian, birds are stupid. And creepy. Like Weir.
*
Zelenka thinks the military-industrial complex in the U.S. produces some very unlikely people. He also wonders where McKay came up with this figures. Idiot.
*
*story of Major Murray amongst the nightingales Athosians to be told a later date. It might include any/all of the following: Chad's five Athosian ex-wives, Chad teaching Athosian children in a village hut while smoking homemade cigarillos and drinking amphetamine tea, Teyla and Chad getting into a whole episode about Chad's rantings about English grammar being bent to Latinate grammar constructs (Teyla's main point being that technically Athosians didn't speak English, and Chad's main point being STFU).
*
Today might be the spamiest day of my lj career. Ta DA!
This, obviously, is a spin-off of this. SIGH. God, I need an intervention.
I dedicate this story to Slod, my one true love.
Contrary to some people's unfounded opinions (looking at you, Heightmeyer), John actually knows that his emotional IQ isn't very high. Welling, though, is probably a sociopath.
"Why did you have to shoot him?" Debriefings with Welling are always full of yuks.
Tom just looks at him and smiles. "Chances are he was going to kill someone or blow something up eventually. That's all the Genii do." He shrugs.
"That's true, but we don't endorse ethnic cleansing." John looks over his shoulder at Weir. "Do we?"
"No, we don't. However, Tom's probably right about Kolya."
John shakes his finger at Tom. "Don't go around shooting people all willy-nilly from now on, ok?"
Tom smiles bigger, scaring a squeak out of Rodney. "Sure thing. See you in the mess." He leaves without being dismissed. They really need to work on their discipline around here. John watches his back through the glass walls of Weir's office.
"That man is a walking catastrophe waiting to happen, not unlike yourself, and come to think of it, maybe we should have all the gate teams lead by women from now on, I nominate Teyla, actually, maybe what all the teams need is an Athosian to act as a sort of human dampener…"
"Rodney…" John looks over his shoulder where Rodney's fluttering his hands around his face and looking too introspective for the welfare of John's good humor.
"Dr. McKay has a point…" Weir begins.
"You know, every time you say that, Rodney blows up an entire solar system." John smirks.
"Hey!" Rodney points a finger at John, all the thoughts of sticking his pointy nose into John's off-world teams vanishing in puff of righteous indignation.
Score!
*
Major Chad Murray (AIA, 480th Wing) looks down at the chicken scratch on the scrap of paper Dr. Jared Padalecki hands him and scowls. "What the fuck do you want me to do with this?"
"Dude, translate it!" Jared snaps his homemade gum and gestures at the paper. "It's the recipe for apricot brandy, but I figure I can use those weird star fruit suckers from Ping-Pong."
Chad brushes a hand over his hair and squints. "Um. Ping-pong?"
Jared rolls his eyes. "M6G-something-who-gives-a-rat's-ass. Ping-Pong. It had those natives that played ping-pong with the seeds from the star fruit things."
"Is this their language?" Chad scrutinizes the paper, because it's written in the latin alphabet, but that could be transliteration…
"Fuck no! Zelenka wrote the recipe in code because I call him Shortstuff."
Chad glowers at the paper. "Is it in code and Czech?"
"Who the fuck knows, dude. But I need that recipe."
"This has something to do with Rosenbaum, right?"
"How did you guess? This place is filled to the gills with geniuses. Get crackin'!" Jared slaps Chad on the back so hard Harley and Sadie both leap to their feet, their spines raising on their backs.
"Seriously, one day I'm going to kill you."
Ozzie leaps to his feet and all three animals start bounding around and squawking.
"Hey now, Nutclopse, simmer!" Jared yells when Ozzie leaps up on his leg.
"Stop calling him that." Chad, as he does seventeen thousand times a day, thinks that he was better off in Langley. God, what has his life come to that he really means it? He should have stayed with the Athosians*.
Jared whoops and hitches his hemp pants up.
"Goddamned hippie." Chad takes in the code in a holistic way and sees an immediate grammar relation between the words. Physicists are so fucking predictable.
*
Captain Michael Rosenbaum, USAF, looks down at the pipettes and beakers on the lab bench and back up at David's face. "This is space crank, right?"
Dr. David Boreanaz, Ph.D, biochemist, looks down at the precipitating fluid and smiles bright and wide. "Look, you can call it space crank, but I've already named it Pegicrack."
"Fine!" Mike scratches the side of his face. "You have any random shit turn on in here?"
Dave looks around the lab, located on Tier Four, Pier Two, deep in the no-no zone of Atlantis, and shrugs. "Couple things, hee, who knows what they do?"
Mike cuts his eyes to Dave. Definitely been sampling the goods. "Man, dealers don't use their own merch, get right with god."
Dave rolls his eyes and fires up the Ancient Bunsen burner. "It's not addictive. I tested it on McKay."
"You gave it to him for free?" Mike doesn't like to go all high-octave like that, but HELL.
Dave rolls his eyes again and smirks. "Seriously? I told him it was alien coffee."
*
Right, so, Jensen really has had it up to HERE with Carson today.
"No, I wouldn't call it an Athosian wild yam. But you know what? I'm not a gee-dee botanist, either. I'm a physician, and I was hung over the day in physiology that we discussed the thigh bone being attached to the alien tuber." Jensen takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. He's getting a migraine.
Carson completely ignores everything Jensen just said. "Well, I think that by synthesizing the compound found in this Athosian wild yam, which I think needs to classified in Dioscorea…"
"Carson, why do you know the latin name for fucking yams" Jensen needs a drink. Thank fucking God and Dupont for Dave's stills.
"…we can make a pretty reliable form of contraception." Carson just barrels on.
"Yeah, well, get back to me when you invent the Pegasus Pill, ok? Until then, take your tubers to the chem lab because they're unsanitary." Jensen feels sort of bad for taking things out on Carson so much, but the guy's got Teflon for skin. Hanging out with McKay and Sheppard all the time probably did that to him.
"Yes, you're probably right, Jensen, tracking dirt in here was uncalled for. I'm sorry." Carson looks sheepish.
Jensen feels like a giant asshole.
"You wanna grab something to eat? Ronon'll come and he can beat up the lunch lady and get you some pudding." Jensen's started calling all dessert pudding because of Carson.
Carson brightens immediately. "Why, yes, Jensen, I'd like that a great deal. Let me just…" he sticks the yams in his lab coat pocket.
*
McKay stumbles as he passes by Dr. Mack's work bench. "Oops, sorry, sorry, hope I didn't jostle anything, uh, vital, not that I'm watching when things jostle per se, I mean…"
Allison looks up at him and smiles. Rodney melts a little. "Oh." He says, smiling back without realizing it.
*
"How are things coming along with the animals you found on M6R-185?" Weir catches Jared in the hallway leading to the gym.
Jared smiles down at her, nervous, but what the fuck? They are so not gonna eat his babies.
"Great. The Athosians're crack farmers."
She tilts her head a little, like a creepy bird. "I see, well, excellent, we can use the protein." She pauses. "What?"
His face gave him away again, he realizes. "Nothing, it's just that humans can get enough sustainable protein from legumes." He didn't mean to say that, but, fuck it, what is her problem?
"Yes, but they don't taste like chicken!" She grins at him and he thinks about smacking the smile right off her face.
"Uh huh." The fuck is wrong with people? Can't she see how cute his babies are?
Her smile fades and she lifts an eyebrow. "Ok then. I guess I'll see you at the weekly briefing tomorrow."
Jared can't get outta there fast enough. No way the Athosians are forking over the animals, either, after Jared told him they were sacred in his religion. He giggles to himself, it's beans for Weir, that weirdo.
Who isn't a vegetarian now-a-days anyway? Or at least a poultryatarian, birds are stupid. And creepy. Like Weir.
*
Zelenka thinks the military-industrial complex in the U.S. produces some very unlikely people. He also wonders where McKay came up with this figures. Idiot.
*
*story of Major Murray amongst the nightingales Athosians to be told a later date. It might include any/all of the following: Chad's five Athosian ex-wives, Chad teaching Athosian children in a village hut while smoking homemade cigarillos and drinking amphetamine tea, Teyla and Chad getting into a whole episode about Chad's rantings about English grammar being bent to Latinate grammar constructs (Teyla's main point being that technically Athosians didn't speak English, and Chad's main point being STFU).
*
Today might be the spamiest day of my lj career. Ta DA!
This, obviously, is a spin-off of this. SIGH. God, I need an intervention.