crack_van #5: The Roads Never Lead Where They're Supposed To Go by eleveninches (NC-17)
Fandom: SGA
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard, Weir/Zelenka
Author on LJ: eleveninches
Author Website: That Boy Ain't Right (Fanfiction by eleveninches)
Why this must be read:
This story combines a homage to the humor and adventure plots of B-movies with the Atlantis characters, making a few slight twists along the way, such as Zelenka as the lead scientist. John is a botanist, skateboarder, and ex-environmental extremist who ends up partnering Rodney as they explore Atlantis, only to discover that someone is turning people into dinosaurs. The story's fast pacing, absurd situations and buddy-oriented rapid-fire dialog shine, making it a delight to read.
If Rodney was the kind of guy who looked backed critically, he might've said the step through the stargate was the moment his life changed forever. Without Atlantis, he might've spent his whole life as that arrogant, selfish loner who thought he was so smart, he nearly killed one of the few people he'd ever respected. He would never've known what it was like to love a city, or fly through space (which was something he never grew fond of; in space, no one can hear you scream), or take that first step onto an alien world. Worse, he might never've met the man he discovered standing in the centre of his lab, thumbing through Rodney's notepad. Every now and then, Rodney had strange dreams where he was an old man grading papers, or walking through a Moscow park on a bleak autumn day. They were painfully depressing.
"Just what do you think you're doing?" Rodney demanded.
The guy didn't look guilty, like Rodney expected. Instead, he casually set the notepad back down on the bench, raising an eyebrow at Rodney's agitated state. Even when standing straight, he still slouched a little. "You shouldn't leave your stuff out if you don't want someone to look."
"That's why there are Marines with AK-47s guarding the door," Rodney fumed, gesturing behind him.
The man had gravity-defying hair, a hoop earring in each pointed ear, and a smirk on his face. His uniform looked like something he put together himself, a blatant disregard for regulations: tight blue t-shirt, baggy khakis, black wristband. He was disgustingly hot. Rodney felt something inside him stir, and he sneered, "Let me guess, you're one of the nurses."
"Botanist, actually," the guy said, raising both eyebrows this time. "Dr John Sheppard."
Rodney stared. "Ah, so the fabled Sheppard does exist." His gaze travelled from the tips of Sheppard's Nikes to the top of his spiky head. "You seriously have a doctorate?"
Sheppard looked amused. "My thesis was on tumbleweeds."
The lab doors swooshed open, and Zelenka entered, pushing up his glasses with the hand that wasn't clutching his datapad. "Ah, Rodney, Dr Sheppard, I see you've met. Good."
"Zelenka," Rodney demanded, "why are there botanists in my lab?"
"Dr Sheppard was the one to discover the transporters, completely by accident," Zelenka said, like that was supposed to mean something. He clasped Sheppard's shoulder, and Sheppard smirked at Rodney again.
Rodney waited for more of an explanation. When it didn't come, he asked, "So? Is that supposed to impress me? What the hell are transporters?" Both Zelenka and Sheppard looked at him in surprise. "What? I'm not allowed to leave this floor, except to eat and occasionally sleep. Personally, I think Sumner feels threatened by me. You blow up one star, and suddenly everyone thinks you're a loose cannon."
Sheppard seemed a little concerned. "Uh, transporters are those things in the halls that we thought were closets. Turns out they're a quicker way to get from floor to floor."
"So I've been walking up and down five flights of stairs every day for nothing?" Rodney asked, scowling at Zelenka.
"You have been looking more fit lately," Zelenka said pleasantly.
"God, I hate you," Rodney said.
"I'm sure I will cry myself to sleep tonight. For now, Rodney, what I need you to do is take Dr Sheppard to the lower fifth level. There are a series of doors no one can get open. John is..." Zelenka made a vague gesture. "I do not know how to say it."
Rodney looked at Sheppard, who grinned. "Strongest gene in Atlantis," he boasted, doing jazz hands.
"Yes, I'm sure it impresses all the ladies."
The Roads Never Lead Where They're Supposed To Go
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard, Weir/Zelenka
Author on LJ: eleveninches
Author Website: That Boy Ain't Right (Fanfiction by eleveninches)
Why this must be read:
This story combines a homage to the humor and adventure plots of B-movies with the Atlantis characters, making a few slight twists along the way, such as Zelenka as the lead scientist. John is a botanist, skateboarder, and ex-environmental extremist who ends up partnering Rodney as they explore Atlantis, only to discover that someone is turning people into dinosaurs. The story's fast pacing, absurd situations and buddy-oriented rapid-fire dialog shine, making it a delight to read.
If Rodney was the kind of guy who looked backed critically, he might've said the step through the stargate was the moment his life changed forever. Without Atlantis, he might've spent his whole life as that arrogant, selfish loner who thought he was so smart, he nearly killed one of the few people he'd ever respected. He would never've known what it was like to love a city, or fly through space (which was something he never grew fond of; in space, no one can hear you scream), or take that first step onto an alien world. Worse, he might never've met the man he discovered standing in the centre of his lab, thumbing through Rodney's notepad. Every now and then, Rodney had strange dreams where he was an old man grading papers, or walking through a Moscow park on a bleak autumn day. They were painfully depressing.
"Just what do you think you're doing?" Rodney demanded.
The guy didn't look guilty, like Rodney expected. Instead, he casually set the notepad back down on the bench, raising an eyebrow at Rodney's agitated state. Even when standing straight, he still slouched a little. "You shouldn't leave your stuff out if you don't want someone to look."
"That's why there are Marines with AK-47s guarding the door," Rodney fumed, gesturing behind him.
The man had gravity-defying hair, a hoop earring in each pointed ear, and a smirk on his face. His uniform looked like something he put together himself, a blatant disregard for regulations: tight blue t-shirt, baggy khakis, black wristband. He was disgustingly hot. Rodney felt something inside him stir, and he sneered, "Let me guess, you're one of the nurses."
"Botanist, actually," the guy said, raising both eyebrows this time. "Dr John Sheppard."
Rodney stared. "Ah, so the fabled Sheppard does exist." His gaze travelled from the tips of Sheppard's Nikes to the top of his spiky head. "You seriously have a doctorate?"
Sheppard looked amused. "My thesis was on tumbleweeds."
The lab doors swooshed open, and Zelenka entered, pushing up his glasses with the hand that wasn't clutching his datapad. "Ah, Rodney, Dr Sheppard, I see you've met. Good."
"Zelenka," Rodney demanded, "why are there botanists in my lab?"
"Dr Sheppard was the one to discover the transporters, completely by accident," Zelenka said, like that was supposed to mean something. He clasped Sheppard's shoulder, and Sheppard smirked at Rodney again.
Rodney waited for more of an explanation. When it didn't come, he asked, "So? Is that supposed to impress me? What the hell are transporters?" Both Zelenka and Sheppard looked at him in surprise. "What? I'm not allowed to leave this floor, except to eat and occasionally sleep. Personally, I think Sumner feels threatened by me. You blow up one star, and suddenly everyone thinks you're a loose cannon."
Sheppard seemed a little concerned. "Uh, transporters are those things in the halls that we thought were closets. Turns out they're a quicker way to get from floor to floor."
"So I've been walking up and down five flights of stairs every day for nothing?" Rodney asked, scowling at Zelenka.
"You have been looking more fit lately," Zelenka said pleasantly.
"God, I hate you," Rodney said.
"I'm sure I will cry myself to sleep tonight. For now, Rodney, what I need you to do is take Dr Sheppard to the lower fifth level. There are a series of doors no one can get open. John is..." Zelenka made a vague gesture. "I do not know how to say it."
Rodney looked at Sheppard, who grinned. "Strongest gene in Atlantis," he boasted, doing jazz hands.
"Yes, I'm sure it impresses all the ladies."
The Roads Never Lead Where They're Supposed To Go