fic: Crayons [team fic, PG-13]
I've been a busy girl this week, all because of the Prompt Battle going on at
teylafen all this week. If you haven't gone to check it out, why not? There's still plenty of prompts left to pick from and lots of inspiration to be had. I've written three so far and have one more in the works.
I think I need to write for these things more often.
Title: Crayons
Rating: PG-13
Characters: team
Sometimes John hates the Ancients so goddamn much.
How could the race that built stargates just up and leave machines that turned people into children on alien planets without any warning signs whatsoever? Didn’t they see the inherent danger and irresponsibility in that? Were the Ancients really that stupid?
John can only wonder and hate them for it because they’re not around now for him to take his rage out on.
Because of their damn machine, the other members of his team now have six year old bodies and minds, and have no way of returning to normal because the one person who could figure out what that machine did to them is a wispy haired little boy who actually likes being called Meredith, locks himself in his room all day, and only talks to Laura Cadman because she reminds him of his mother.
At least Meredith is easy to handle. Ronon is a dangerous bundle of energy - running and climbing and jumping everywhere. Elizabeth’s the only adult he’ll really listen to, but she just thinks he’s the “cutest thing” with his dark springy curls and no weapons to speak of, and lets him get away with everything. Just this morning, Lorne caught him hanging by his ankles off the edge of one of the piers, trying to pet the man-eating sharks circling in the water below. John felt his first gray hair spout when he found out and praised God for Ronon’s original parents.
Teyla, however, is a fine balance between the two - energetic yet quiet most of the time. She’s the type of child John would want to have. Out of the team, she’s the most like her adult self, except she’s much happier and has a tendency to blab about everyone and everything. John’s positive he’s heard the same story about how she shoved the first boy that kissed her on the cheek in a lake five times since he started visiting her in the afternoons.
During their visits, he likes to color with her. He found her the biggest box of crayons he could find when she mentioned that she liked drawing and she’s been doodling constantly since then. Her small room in the infirmary is littered with coloring book pages, scraps of paper, and many drawings nearly everyone in Atlantis has contributed to. A stick-figure picture of her and John hangs above the door with Teyla’s proud signature written in Athosian lettering and bright pink crayon.
John likes watching her color. From the way she picks out crayons, biting her lip and showing off the cute gap where her front teeth are missing, to the way she treats them so reverently, pressing carefully on the blank paper, hissing when one breaks accidentally, and carefully peeling back the wrapping once the crayon becomes too dull. Everything tells just a little bit about her personality and he slowly comes to understand Teyla through the box of crayons.
She’s always been an enigma to him and it is with a blank sheet of paper and sixty-some colors that he finally gets an accurate picture of her history and the emotions she hides so well.
He learns about her spirit and sense of adventure as she tells him about her father, the great hunter who’s caught more ni’kag than any other Athosian hunter and how she wants to be just like him, and scribbles outside the lines. He sees her great compassion when she draws Rodney a picture of his family and urges him to join in their coloring days. Her vulnerability shines through when she hands him a picture of a crying girl and then throws herself into his arms, bawling about Ronon being a mean, mean boy.
And he discovers her humor when he finds a crayon drawing of three tiny stick figures clinging to tall, messy haired stick figure shoved under his door the morning after they’re changed back to normal.
Maybe, John thinks, the Ancients weren’t completely stupid after all.
teylafen all this week. If you haven't gone to check it out, why not? There's still plenty of prompts left to pick from and lots of inspiration to be had. I've written three so far and have one more in the works.
I think I need to write for these things more often.
Title: Crayons
Rating: PG-13
Characters: team
Sometimes John hates the Ancients so goddamn much.
How could the race that built stargates just up and leave machines that turned people into children on alien planets without any warning signs whatsoever? Didn’t they see the inherent danger and irresponsibility in that? Were the Ancients really that stupid?
John can only wonder and hate them for it because they’re not around now for him to take his rage out on.
Because of their damn machine, the other members of his team now have six year old bodies and minds, and have no way of returning to normal because the one person who could figure out what that machine did to them is a wispy haired little boy who actually likes being called Meredith, locks himself in his room all day, and only talks to Laura Cadman because she reminds him of his mother.
At least Meredith is easy to handle. Ronon is a dangerous bundle of energy - running and climbing and jumping everywhere. Elizabeth’s the only adult he’ll really listen to, but she just thinks he’s the “cutest thing” with his dark springy curls and no weapons to speak of, and lets him get away with everything. Just this morning, Lorne caught him hanging by his ankles off the edge of one of the piers, trying to pet the man-eating sharks circling in the water below. John felt his first gray hair spout when he found out and praised God for Ronon’s original parents.
Teyla, however, is a fine balance between the two - energetic yet quiet most of the time. She’s the type of child John would want to have. Out of the team, she’s the most like her adult self, except she’s much happier and has a tendency to blab about everyone and everything. John’s positive he’s heard the same story about how she shoved the first boy that kissed her on the cheek in a lake five times since he started visiting her in the afternoons.
During their visits, he likes to color with her. He found her the biggest box of crayons he could find when she mentioned that she liked drawing and she’s been doodling constantly since then. Her small room in the infirmary is littered with coloring book pages, scraps of paper, and many drawings nearly everyone in Atlantis has contributed to. A stick-figure picture of her and John hangs above the door with Teyla’s proud signature written in Athosian lettering and bright pink crayon.
John likes watching her color. From the way she picks out crayons, biting her lip and showing off the cute gap where her front teeth are missing, to the way she treats them so reverently, pressing carefully on the blank paper, hissing when one breaks accidentally, and carefully peeling back the wrapping once the crayon becomes too dull. Everything tells just a little bit about her personality and he slowly comes to understand Teyla through the box of crayons.
She’s always been an enigma to him and it is with a blank sheet of paper and sixty-some colors that he finally gets an accurate picture of her history and the emotions she hides so well.
He learns about her spirit and sense of adventure as she tells him about her father, the great hunter who’s caught more ni’kag than any other Athosian hunter and how she wants to be just like him, and scribbles outside the lines. He sees her great compassion when she draws Rodney a picture of his family and urges him to join in their coloring days. Her vulnerability shines through when she hands him a picture of a crying girl and then throws herself into his arms, bawling about Ronon being a mean, mean boy.
And he discovers her humor when he finds a crayon drawing of three tiny stick figures clinging to tall, messy haired stick figure shoved under his door the morning after they’re changed back to normal.
Maybe, John thinks, the Ancients weren’t completely stupid after all.