(no subject)
This? This is totally what happens when I get the urge to write something and have no real idea what I want to write and haven't actually written anything for a while. (I usually do a lot of dialogue and work from there. It's easier for me that way.) This is how most of my fics start out: a tiny maybe idea, urge to write, and then completely incomprehensible writing that gathers dust for weeks on end until I go back and think 'hey, I could totally do something with this' and then I work on it for a few hours and repeat the whole process until it comes to a horrible, horrible end.
This was supposed to be for the current 'darkside challenge at sga_flashfic, but I lost the thread somewhere along the way. I think parts of this may have been a little too inspired by the fact that my family's discussing house buying and we've been to see a few as well. (This was also one of those writing experiments you hear so much about nowadays.)
I'm still totally going to do something with the challenge if I can find the time. (I totally signed up for two fic challenges and I need to work on a 30_kisses fic before it's too late! *added drama* :O!)
He's been in quarantine for most of a day, half-mad from boredom and the new guy's nervousness isn't helping when Sheppard comes on the radio, false cheer doing a terrible job of covering up worry and anxiety and a distinct lack of sleep. He lets it slide though, because as much fun as it's been watching the new guy work himself into a frenzy, the waiting is killing him.
Hopefully not literally.
"So, hey." Sheppard says, and he can just imagine Sheppard scratching the back of his head with that grimace that either means 'sorry about the shooting at your people, but they attacked us first' or 'yeah, you're pretty much screwed, but I'm trying to be reassuring here'. "Beckett says you guys found something."
And god, but the man gives new meaning to word 'understatement'.
"Yes. Yes we did."
There's a little pause then, halfway between awkward and just pretty much damn unpleasant.
"And?"
He sighs and glances at the new guy, who isn't looking all that good. What with the bugged out eyes and nervous scratch, scratch, scratching.
"A nice little two bedroom, full bath. Great view, although the walls need a little work."
He's pretty sure that was dried blood, but then again...
"Huh."
"Might want to do something with the flooring too. And the doors...god, don't even get me started."
He's pretty sure he actually isn't in a horror movie, but the fingernail-shaped gouges on the floors and bottom edges of the doors leave more than enough room for doubt, and well...there were bodies.
Ten thousand year-old, extremely well preserved bodies.
"So kind of a fixer upper, then?"
He nods, mouth quirking up into a crooked smile. "Something like that, yes."
Sheppard hmmm's and he closes his eyes, because it's been a long day and looks to be even longer when the new guy jumps to his feet and starts...pacing.
Fast and jerky, all nervous energy with a noticeable touch of panic and he can tell the man's that close to losing it. He gives a thought to reassuring him, but he's crap at it and everyone, even the new guy, knows it.
"Junior's getting antsy." He murmurs, careful to keep his voice low.
"Antsy?" Shepard repeats, and he hears Carson and Elizabeth echo the word in the background, sounding worried and incredulous and he almost, almost smiles, because what's a little fun-time with infectious diseases without -
"Antsy how?" Sheppard demands, and he knows, knows, Sheppard's trying to remember everything he knows about the new guy, trying to see if there's actual reason to worry.
The new guy's just a kid fresh off the Daedalus. New to the SGC and the whole 'bravely go where no man has gone before' spiel they feed the new recruits. Nothing more than a shiny faced kid that was all wide eyes and grabby hands and absolutely no sense self-preservation.
Maybe a side-effect has something to do with super hearing because the kid whirls around to stare at him, pale and twitchy and he just knows there are god knows how many ways to kill a man with his bare hands running through the kid's head like the world's sickest movie.
He doesn't move, doesn't make a sound, and just stares back. Like the kid's a startled animal, wild and dangerous and no way in hell of predicting how he'll move until he does.
"McKay?"
"Oatmeal cookies." He says, because he remembers the kid going on about his mother's homemade cookies with oatmeal and bits of dried fruit and god, how he missed them.
The kid twitches, head jerking back at the words, eyes narrowing and he can hear Sheppard and the others yelling at him over the radio, so he reaches up and pulls it off, sets it aside.
"I always preferred chocolate myself." He goes on, waving a hand carelessly, voice dropping to the same tone he used to use on his cat when it was scared as hell and more dangerous to itself than anything else. "Absolutely no nutritional vale, but oh, what a difference it makes."
Partial lie, because he remembers one of his people blathering on about the health benefits and other completely unimportant details when their rations were running low their first time out. He also remembers, vividly, the pain of slide presentations and charts and god, why him, before giving in and holding a lottery for the last bag of fun-size Snickers.
And...yes.
This was supposed to be for the current 'darkside challenge at sga_flashfic, but I lost the thread somewhere along the way. I think parts of this may have been a little too inspired by the fact that my family's discussing house buying and we've been to see a few as well. (This was also one of those writing experiments you hear so much about nowadays.)
I'm still totally going to do something with the challenge if I can find the time. (I totally signed up for two fic challenges and I need to work on a 30_kisses fic before it's too late! *added drama* :O!)
He's been in quarantine for most of a day, half-mad from boredom and the new guy's nervousness isn't helping when Sheppard comes on the radio, false cheer doing a terrible job of covering up worry and anxiety and a distinct lack of sleep. He lets it slide though, because as much fun as it's been watching the new guy work himself into a frenzy, the waiting is killing him.
Hopefully not literally.
"So, hey." Sheppard says, and he can just imagine Sheppard scratching the back of his head with that grimace that either means 'sorry about the shooting at your people, but they attacked us first' or 'yeah, you're pretty much screwed, but I'm trying to be reassuring here'. "Beckett says you guys found something."
And god, but the man gives new meaning to word 'understatement'.
"Yes. Yes we did."
There's a little pause then, halfway between awkward and just pretty much damn unpleasant.
"And?"
He sighs and glances at the new guy, who isn't looking all that good. What with the bugged out eyes and nervous scratch, scratch, scratching.
"A nice little two bedroom, full bath. Great view, although the walls need a little work."
He's pretty sure that was dried blood, but then again...
"Huh."
"Might want to do something with the flooring too. And the doors...god, don't even get me started."
He's pretty sure he actually isn't in a horror movie, but the fingernail-shaped gouges on the floors and bottom edges of the doors leave more than enough room for doubt, and well...there were bodies.
Ten thousand year-old, extremely well preserved bodies.
"So kind of a fixer upper, then?"
He nods, mouth quirking up into a crooked smile. "Something like that, yes."
Sheppard hmmm's and he closes his eyes, because it's been a long day and looks to be even longer when the new guy jumps to his feet and starts...pacing.
Fast and jerky, all nervous energy with a noticeable touch of panic and he can tell the man's that close to losing it. He gives a thought to reassuring him, but he's crap at it and everyone, even the new guy, knows it.
"Junior's getting antsy." He murmurs, careful to keep his voice low.
"Antsy?" Shepard repeats, and he hears Carson and Elizabeth echo the word in the background, sounding worried and incredulous and he almost, almost smiles, because what's a little fun-time with infectious diseases without -
"Antsy how?" Sheppard demands, and he knows, knows, Sheppard's trying to remember everything he knows about the new guy, trying to see if there's actual reason to worry.
The new guy's just a kid fresh off the Daedalus. New to the SGC and the whole 'bravely go where no man has gone before' spiel they feed the new recruits. Nothing more than a shiny faced kid that was all wide eyes and grabby hands and absolutely no sense self-preservation.
Maybe a side-effect has something to do with super hearing because the kid whirls around to stare at him, pale and twitchy and he just knows there are god knows how many ways to kill a man with his bare hands running through the kid's head like the world's sickest movie.
He doesn't move, doesn't make a sound, and just stares back. Like the kid's a startled animal, wild and dangerous and no way in hell of predicting how he'll move until he does.
"McKay?"
"Oatmeal cookies." He says, because he remembers the kid going on about his mother's homemade cookies with oatmeal and bits of dried fruit and god, how he missed them.
The kid twitches, head jerking back at the words, eyes narrowing and he can hear Sheppard and the others yelling at him over the radio, so he reaches up and pulls it off, sets it aside.
"I always preferred chocolate myself." He goes on, waving a hand carelessly, voice dropping to the same tone he used to use on his cat when it was scared as hell and more dangerous to itself than anything else. "Absolutely no nutritional vale, but oh, what a difference it makes."
Partial lie, because he remembers one of his people blathering on about the health benefits and other completely unimportant details when their rations were running low their first time out. He also remembers, vividly, the pain of slide presentations and charts and god, why him, before giving in and holding a lottery for the last bag of fun-size Snickers.
And...yes.