Thoughts for a Saturday Morning, with run-on sentences.
So I was thinking. There need to be more reasons for John Sheppard to be dressed in a tuxedo. Why aren't there black tie events on Atlantis? He'd be all sleek and sexy, leaning artfully against the wall or a pillar and looking totally comfortable in this different sort of uniform. His hair, of course, would be as unruly as usual. Maybe they could find an Ancient art gallery and have an opening ten thousand years late, or maybe there's an opera house, and they could sit through a horrible holographic performance... at least 'til John and Rodney sneak out during the interval because it's so bad. Elizabeth, of course, would stay for the whole thing, sitting with perfect posture in her seat and managing not to grimace too much when the soprano doesn't quite hit the high notes.
I like the art gallery idea better, though, because Rodney could come trundling in late adjusting his cummerbund and looking around desperately for the floating trays of hors d'oeuvres, which all gravitate toward John, of course, because Atlantis loves him best. And then he sees John and his mouth goes dry, because OMG pretty. He grabs a flute of champagne from a tray zipping past toward John and downs it before heading over, and then John smiles at him and says, "Hey, you clean up nicely, McKay," and Rodney gulps down another glass and says in a strangled voice, "Yes, well, so do you. Are those mini-quiches?" Then they wander around the gallery making snarky comments about the art with the trays bobbing along behind them - "You'd think for such amazingly advanced and enlightened beings they would've moved beyond dogs playing poker." "Hey, is that a velvet Elvis over there?" - before ending up in front of this animated painting of a sunset over water from up high in the sky. Rodney likes it because it reminds him the view from the balcony off of the control room, and John likes it because it feels like he's flying. Somehow they end up on that balcony away from everyone else, their ties and collars loosened and leaning on the railing as they watch the sun set in reality.
Then there could be the kissing and the taking off of the tuxedos. Yes.
ETA: Oh! Or it could be a show of erotic art, and the SGA people are all like, "It's artistic," and not making eye contact with each other.
Rodney, turning red: Well, uh, the use of light in this painting shows...
John: Wow, those Ancients sure were bendy.
I like the art gallery idea better, though, because Rodney could come trundling in late adjusting his cummerbund and looking around desperately for the floating trays of hors d'oeuvres, which all gravitate toward John, of course, because Atlantis loves him best. And then he sees John and his mouth goes dry, because OMG pretty. He grabs a flute of champagne from a tray zipping past toward John and downs it before heading over, and then John smiles at him and says, "Hey, you clean up nicely, McKay," and Rodney gulps down another glass and says in a strangled voice, "Yes, well, so do you. Are those mini-quiches?" Then they wander around the gallery making snarky comments about the art with the trays bobbing along behind them - "You'd think for such amazingly advanced and enlightened beings they would've moved beyond dogs playing poker." "Hey, is that a velvet Elvis over there?" - before ending up in front of this animated painting of a sunset over water from up high in the sky. Rodney likes it because it reminds him the view from the balcony off of the control room, and John likes it because it feels like he's flying. Somehow they end up on that balcony away from everyone else, their ties and collars loosened and leaning on the railing as they watch the sun set in reality.
Then there could be the kissing and the taking off of the tuxedos. Yes.
ETA: Oh! Or it could be a show of erotic art, and the SGA people are all like, "It's artistic," and not making eye contact with each other.
Rodney, turning red: Well, uh, the use of light in this painting shows...
John: Wow, those Ancients sure were bendy.