SGA ficlet: This is Where All the Silverware Went
I want more McKay and Mrs. Miller fic. Which is another way of saying: spoilers ahead! :D
Title: This is Where All the Silverware Went
Author: Pentapus
Disclaimer: SGA not mine.
Warnings: Spoilers for "McKay and Mrs. Miller".
Summary: His taste is teammates is going to get him lynched. If it doesn't happen offworld, Rodney's sure most of Atlantis will be happy to oblige.
When Elizabeth finally agreed to Rodney’s request for a non-military team, focused on pursuing the discoveries of the heavily armed first contact teams, Rodney had already gone through maybe a hundred possible permutations inside his head. He still wasn’t sure if he’d settled on this one because he’d had all that time to pick out the best or if it was just his luck for Elizabeth to radio him after he’d gotten bored with all the sane choices.
But no, Gemmar had been one of the wealthiest traders on Athos, an obvious choice for a local guide, and Lt. Ford, while young, was skilled and personable. The real sign of insanity had been--and still was--John Sheppard. The only member of the Atlantis expedition without a doctorate or a military rank, who’d stepped through the star gate on the strength of his gene and knew it and lied about it to everyone anyway. Usually with the kind of sharp smile that had guaranteed him a private room even before Sumner had been cajoled into clearing more than a handful of suites and several large banquet halls for living quarters.
Elizabeth had stared at him for a long moment when Rodney put in his personnel requests. She given the go ahead with the kind of blank faced goodwill that said she was going to let him realize his own mistakes. Then they went to M65-K88, the planet of the sorta cool ruins and the very shy people. They hung around with the archaeologists and their military escort for an uneventful few hours before Gemmar and Sheppard wandered off to make contact with the indigenous peoples. In the end, it turned out all the natives had needed to break of out their shell was John Sheppard and his icy, beguiling smile.
They stumbled back through the gate behind the archaeology team and their escorts, a slightly battered lieutenant, a horrified Athosian, and John Sheppard looking honestly startled by the arrow sprouting from his collar bone.
Gemmar resigned. Sheppard was carted off to the infirmary. Major Cadman spent a lot of time yelling at him for not being able to control his team. She wasn’t really happy with Rodney’s excuse that he wasn’t military and who could blame Sheppard for not wanting to pay attention to anthropology anyway? Elizabeth called him up to her office after the debriefing, and then just sat there, waiting with a kind expression on her face. Rodney nearly dropped the Athosian statue he'd been playing with, leading to a few seconds of frantic juggling, when he realized she was waiting for him to put in the request for Sheppard's removal from his team.
It took Rodney the better part of that week to realize that even running for his life towards the stargate with Sheppard stumbling bleariy after him and Gemmar cursing in the kind of Ancient even Radek didn’t know, he’d never once thought that it’d be Sheppard and not Gemmar who got kicked off the team.
“The billionth digit of pi is nine,” Sheppard said. His empty mess tray had been pushed off to the side, and he was building a geodesic dome out of rubber bands and forks.
Rodney finished chewing his last bite of pie--eaten with a spoon--and said, “That’s trivia, you moron. You didn’t calculate that yourself." Then, sort of embarrassed that he’d said that: “Oh god, what have you been telling the linguists?”
Sheppard snapped a rubber band thoughtfully. “Tomorrow is March 14. I think I’ll challenge the science team to a contest of who can calculate the digits of pi fastest, so I can win.”
Somewhere by the buffet line, someone shouted, “Where the fuck are all the forks?”
Sheppard’s eyes crinkled at the edges with his grin. Rodney looked at Simpson over Sheppard’s shoulder, who was casting livid glares around the commissary, and then back to Sheppard’s angelic expression as he admired his pilfered silverware.
“Actually,” Rodney said, lifting his chin, “I’ll win that contest.”
And he did.
Title: This is Where All the Silverware Went
Author: Pentapus
Disclaimer: SGA not mine.
Warnings: Spoilers for "McKay and Mrs. Miller".
Summary: His taste is teammates is going to get him lynched. If it doesn't happen offworld, Rodney's sure most of Atlantis will be happy to oblige.
When Elizabeth finally agreed to Rodney’s request for a non-military team, focused on pursuing the discoveries of the heavily armed first contact teams, Rodney had already gone through maybe a hundred possible permutations inside his head. He still wasn’t sure if he’d settled on this one because he’d had all that time to pick out the best or if it was just his luck for Elizabeth to radio him after he’d gotten bored with all the sane choices.
But no, Gemmar had been one of the wealthiest traders on Athos, an obvious choice for a local guide, and Lt. Ford, while young, was skilled and personable. The real sign of insanity had been--and still was--John Sheppard. The only member of the Atlantis expedition without a doctorate or a military rank, who’d stepped through the star gate on the strength of his gene and knew it and lied about it to everyone anyway. Usually with the kind of sharp smile that had guaranteed him a private room even before Sumner had been cajoled into clearing more than a handful of suites and several large banquet halls for living quarters.
Elizabeth had stared at him for a long moment when Rodney put in his personnel requests. She given the go ahead with the kind of blank faced goodwill that said she was going to let him realize his own mistakes. Then they went to M65-K88, the planet of the sorta cool ruins and the very shy people. They hung around with the archaeologists and their military escort for an uneventful few hours before Gemmar and Sheppard wandered off to make contact with the indigenous peoples. In the end, it turned out all the natives had needed to break of out their shell was John Sheppard and his icy, beguiling smile.
They stumbled back through the gate behind the archaeology team and their escorts, a slightly battered lieutenant, a horrified Athosian, and John Sheppard looking honestly startled by the arrow sprouting from his collar bone.
Gemmar resigned. Sheppard was carted off to the infirmary. Major Cadman spent a lot of time yelling at him for not being able to control his team. She wasn’t really happy with Rodney’s excuse that he wasn’t military and who could blame Sheppard for not wanting to pay attention to anthropology anyway? Elizabeth called him up to her office after the debriefing, and then just sat there, waiting with a kind expression on her face. Rodney nearly dropped the Athosian statue he'd been playing with, leading to a few seconds of frantic juggling, when he realized she was waiting for him to put in the request for Sheppard's removal from his team.
It took Rodney the better part of that week to realize that even running for his life towards the stargate with Sheppard stumbling bleariy after him and Gemmar cursing in the kind of Ancient even Radek didn’t know, he’d never once thought that it’d be Sheppard and not Gemmar who got kicked off the team.
“The billionth digit of pi is nine,” Sheppard said. His empty mess tray had been pushed off to the side, and he was building a geodesic dome out of rubber bands and forks.
Rodney finished chewing his last bite of pie--eaten with a spoon--and said, “That’s trivia, you moron. You didn’t calculate that yourself." Then, sort of embarrassed that he’d said that: “Oh god, what have you been telling the linguists?”
Sheppard snapped a rubber band thoughtfully. “Tomorrow is March 14. I think I’ll challenge the science team to a contest of who can calculate the digits of pi fastest, so I can win.”
Somewhere by the buffet line, someone shouted, “Where the fuck are all the forks?”
Sheppard’s eyes crinkled at the edges with his grin. Rodney looked at Simpson over Sheppard’s shoulder, who was casting livid glares around the commissary, and then back to Sheppard’s angelic expression as he admired his pilfered silverware.
“Actually,” Rodney said, lifting his chin, “I’ll win that contest.”
And he did.