Night of the Buffalo-Things (and: Of Plotbunnies and Ulterior Motives) by Martha (and cat)
TITLE: Night of the Buffalo-Things (and: Of Plotbunnies and Ulterior Motives)
LENGTH: 582 and 237
SUMMARY: When in doubt, blame the aliens.
PAIRINGS: There isn’t one, really, it’s all smut-that-didn’t-actually-happen-even-though-
it-sounds-like-it-did-when-you-put-it-that-way, but I suppose it counts as Rodney/Ronon.
MOOD/RATING: Humor/G
WARNINGS/SPOILERS: None
NOTES: This is a two-part answer to the challenge. The first is the actual response to the Mission Report... the second is a MuseFic about the reaction of the Writer to the Fictive who got her into this mess.
Night of the Buffalo-Things
John, Rodney and Ronon lounged around the table in the rec room, working on the mission statement from their last foray through the gate. John was scribbling something that might have been notes, but looked chicken-based hieroglyphics. "So, we'd been there what, a four hours before the buffalo-things showed up?" Ronon nodded absently and John added to the scribbles. "Okay, Teyla was over at the head guy’s hut and we were enjoying the harvest festival when--"
"I was possessed!" Rodney interjected, arms crossed, glaring at the scribbles. "Put that in there. Definitely possessed."
"You were not." This was the first John had heard anything about possession and he was pretty sure he would have noticed if Rodney had been attacked. Although he was a little fuzzy about some of it, he didn’t remember anything particularly threatening about the evening. Other than the buffalo-things of course.
"Was too. You weren't even there, you were off playing tonsil hockey with miss I'm-too-pretty-to-be-an-alien, while I was being possessed by some insane--"
"You weren't possessed" Ronon didn't look up from sharpening his knife, continuing to blatantly ignore the more boring aspects of gatework. "Drunk maybe, but not possessed."
"Yes I was," Rodney shifted his glare from the paper to his teammate.
"Well I wasn't." Ronon rubbed his thumb along the edge of the knife, "drunk or possessed."
"I'm not putting anything in the report about possession, alcohol, or anything else you may or may not have been doing in your spare time." John snapped, trying to focus on just getting the damned thing down on paper so he could get back to not worrying about disasters his teammates had been causing when he wasn’t paying attention.
"Why not?" Ronon looked up curiously.
"I'd end up writing a book every time we stepped through the gate." Plus he'd have to put in the parts about the blonde, and John was pretty sure Elizabeth wouldn't appreciate that bit of information. Discretion and the better parts of valor came to mind, as well as 'living to fight another day' considering the way she'd looked at him when she read that last mission report.
"Oh."
"So can we get on with this?" John tapped the pad with his pen. "We were at the festival and--"
"I was possessed!" John was beginning to feel very very sorry for whatever female had lacked the common sense to try seducing McKay.
"That's one way to put it," Ronon grinned at the flustered scientist.
"Here's an idea." Rodney glared back. "Let's just not call it anything. Let’s pretend it didn't happen--"
"Why?"
"Because I am not remembering kiss-- Will you stop leering at me!"
"I'm not leering." And Ronon wasn't, quite. Which made no sense. John began to think he'd missed something important, in between the blonde and the buffalos.
"Yes you are, look you've gone all possessive again and--"
"Things I do not need to know-- Wait," John blinked, "did you just say Ronon--"
"I'M NOT HAVING THIS CONVERSATION."
"You started it," Ronon smirked.
"Did not!"
"Did too."
"Forget it." Rodney stormed out of the room, looking more flustered than John had remembered seeing him in... well, ever. He raised an eyebrow at Ronon.
"What?" Ronon was the master of innocent looks that had nothing to do with actual innocence.
"Do I want to kn--"
"Probably not."
"Right." He filed that thought under Things Man Was Not Meant to Know and turned back to the legal pad. "So after about four hours those buffalo-things showed up and..."
Of Plotbunnies and Ulterior Motives
"So." The Writer regarded her new Ronon fictive thoughtfully.
"Yes?"
"You want to explain that last plotbunny?"
The fictive shrugged and skritched the small purple Plot Dragon behind the ears. The lizard had moved from its normal den under the Writer's chair and was now curled up in the warrior’s lap, rumbling happily.
The Writer crossed her arms and attempted to look intimidating.
The fictive finally gave in, but it appeared to be more out of amusement at the Writer's lack of success than anything else. "Look, he was drunk."
"And?"
"And he was hitting on the wrong person." He skritched the plot dragon behind one ivory horn and the rumbling got louder. "John can get away with flirting with the head household families; Rodney not so much."
"And hitting on you was any better?"
"Well, since I'm not planning on killing him... yeah."
There was a pause as the Writer attempted to process the new concept. "...So you kissed him to keep him from getting killed?"
"Nope."
"But you just said--"
"I said if I hadn't stopped him he would have gotten himself killed." He waved a hello to a passing Muse who stopped to pick up one of the plots the dragon had abandoned under the chair. "Kissing him was a bonus."
"Wait." The Writer blinked. "So wait, so you--"
"Nope," he grinned. "I just like messing with his head."
...
"Mostly."
*headdesk*
LENGTH: 582 and 237
SUMMARY: When in doubt, blame the aliens.
PAIRINGS: There isn’t one, really, it’s all smut-that-didn’t-actually-happen-even-though-
it-sounds-like-it-did-when-you-put-it-that-way, but I suppose it counts as Rodney/Ronon.
MOOD/RATING: Humor/G
WARNINGS/SPOILERS: None
NOTES: This is a two-part answer to the challenge. The first is the actual response to the Mission Report... the second is a MuseFic about the reaction of the Writer to the Fictive who got her into this mess.
Night of the Buffalo-Things
John, Rodney and Ronon lounged around the table in the rec room, working on the mission statement from their last foray through the gate. John was scribbling something that might have been notes, but looked chicken-based hieroglyphics. "So, we'd been there what, a four hours before the buffalo-things showed up?" Ronon nodded absently and John added to the scribbles. "Okay, Teyla was over at the head guy’s hut and we were enjoying the harvest festival when--"
"I was possessed!" Rodney interjected, arms crossed, glaring at the scribbles. "Put that in there. Definitely possessed."
"You were not." This was the first John had heard anything about possession and he was pretty sure he would have noticed if Rodney had been attacked. Although he was a little fuzzy about some of it, he didn’t remember anything particularly threatening about the evening. Other than the buffalo-things of course.
"Was too. You weren't even there, you were off playing tonsil hockey with miss I'm-too-pretty-to-be-an-alien, while I was being possessed by some insane--"
"You weren't possessed" Ronon didn't look up from sharpening his knife, continuing to blatantly ignore the more boring aspects of gatework. "Drunk maybe, but not possessed."
"Yes I was," Rodney shifted his glare from the paper to his teammate.
"Well I wasn't." Ronon rubbed his thumb along the edge of the knife, "drunk or possessed."
"I'm not putting anything in the report about possession, alcohol, or anything else you may or may not have been doing in your spare time." John snapped, trying to focus on just getting the damned thing down on paper so he could get back to not worrying about disasters his teammates had been causing when he wasn’t paying attention.
"Why not?" Ronon looked up curiously.
"I'd end up writing a book every time we stepped through the gate." Plus he'd have to put in the parts about the blonde, and John was pretty sure Elizabeth wouldn't appreciate that bit of information. Discretion and the better parts of valor came to mind, as well as 'living to fight another day' considering the way she'd looked at him when she read that last mission report.
"Oh."
"So can we get on with this?" John tapped the pad with his pen. "We were at the festival and--"
"I was possessed!" John was beginning to feel very very sorry for whatever female had lacked the common sense to try seducing McKay.
"That's one way to put it," Ronon grinned at the flustered scientist.
"Here's an idea." Rodney glared back. "Let's just not call it anything. Let’s pretend it didn't happen--"
"Why?"
"Because I am not remembering kiss-- Will you stop leering at me!"
"I'm not leering." And Ronon wasn't, quite. Which made no sense. John began to think he'd missed something important, in between the blonde and the buffalos.
"Yes you are, look you've gone all possessive again and--"
"Things I do not need to know-- Wait," John blinked, "did you just say Ronon--"
"I'M NOT HAVING THIS CONVERSATION."
"You started it," Ronon smirked.
"Did not!"
"Did too."
"Forget it." Rodney stormed out of the room, looking more flustered than John had remembered seeing him in... well, ever. He raised an eyebrow at Ronon.
"What?" Ronon was the master of innocent looks that had nothing to do with actual innocence.
"Do I want to kn--"
"Probably not."
"Right." He filed that thought under Things Man Was Not Meant to Know and turned back to the legal pad. "So after about four hours those buffalo-things showed up and..."
Of Plotbunnies and Ulterior Motives
"So." The Writer regarded her new Ronon fictive thoughtfully.
"Yes?"
"You want to explain that last plotbunny?"
The fictive shrugged and skritched the small purple Plot Dragon behind the ears. The lizard had moved from its normal den under the Writer's chair and was now curled up in the warrior’s lap, rumbling happily.
The Writer crossed her arms and attempted to look intimidating.
The fictive finally gave in, but it appeared to be more out of amusement at the Writer's lack of success than anything else. "Look, he was drunk."
"And?"
"And he was hitting on the wrong person." He skritched the plot dragon behind one ivory horn and the rumbling got louder. "John can get away with flirting with the head household families; Rodney not so much."
"And hitting on you was any better?"
"Well, since I'm not planning on killing him... yeah."
There was a pause as the Writer attempted to process the new concept. "...So you kissed him to keep him from getting killed?"
"Nope."
"But you just said--"
"I said if I hadn't stopped him he would have gotten himself killed." He waved a hello to a passing Muse who stopped to pick up one of the plots the dragon had abandoned under the chair. "Kissing him was a bonus."
"Wait." The Writer blinked. "So wait, so you--"
"Nope," he grinned. "I just like messing with his head."
...
"Mostly."
*headdesk*