In Which McKay Befriends the Local Fauna // Waiting for Rescue [LFWS #4 WARM UP ROUND]
Title: In Which McKay Befriends the Local Fauna
Author: ga_unicorn
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Genre(s): Gen
Character(s): Team
Disclaimer: Stargate belongs to Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc., no infringements of any rights is intended.
Prompt for the Round: A man is known by the company he keeps
In Which McKay Befriends the Local Fauna by ga_unicorn
"Help me! Help!"
McKay was moving so fast that there was almost a doppler effect to his shrieks as he ran past.
Ronon started laughing again and Sheppard just shook his head as he worked to get the tent set up. They were going to be here the entire day and, while it was still early morning, the temperature under the glaring white sun was already in the triple digits and there was little in the way of shade in the area.
"Hel-pffft! pffft! blech! Help me, damn you, Sheppard!"
Doubled over with laughter, Ronon was being no help with the tent. Teyla, on her knees sorting through the equipment, looked at him disapprovingly. Sheppard stared back defiantly, or at least he tried. It was hard to do when she looked at him like he was a misbehaving toddler.
"John."
Damn it, now she was using The Voice.
"I warned him not to use that stuff," he offered weakly.
"You must help him, John; you know you do."
Damn it. He tossed the tent pole he'd been wrestling with to Ronon as he passed. McKay was running in a narrow ellipse and would be passing this point again in a few moments.
"Help! He-ooph!
Sheppard grabbed a flailing arm as McKay approached, pulling the man to an abrupt halt. Several dust colored furballs tumbled off of the scientist, but quickly scrambled back up his body, chirruping furiously.
The only indigenous fauna the original gate team had discovered was a small marsupial that lived in the Ancient ruins. Curious and friendly, they had left quite an impression. Their bodies were no larger than Teyla's fist, but their slender appendages - including tails - were twice as long and very deft. They were covered in a soft fur that came in all the shades of dust, the only color being their bright green eyes and long, pink tongues.
They were using those tongues now. At least two dozen of the little puffballs were clinging to the sputtering McKay, the slim tongues lapping at any exposed skin.
"Get 'em off, get 'em pfft!pfft! off, get 'em off," McKay's voice was muffled behind the critters clinging to his head. His arms waved in the air, trying to shake off the ones licking his fingers and palms. A few would lose their grip and go flying, but they were instantly replaced by excitedly peeping compatriots.
Sheppard ignored the squirming mass, pushing aside any who got in his way as he yanked open flaps on McKay's tac vest. When he found what he was looking for, he pulled it out and popped off the lid. Waving the tin box in the air close to McKay's body, he waited until the small green eyes were following his hand before he turned and threw it toward the far wall of the ruins. The peeping rose to a crescendo and a wave of fluff flowed down McKay's body and chased after the container.
A few stubborn poofs still clung to the disheveled scientist, licking frantically at fingertips; one determined fellow had his toes twisted in McKay's thinning hair while his tongue explored the curve of an ear. McKay didn't move, not even trying to brush away the fur glued to his skin by alien puffball saliva. His glare spoke volumes though.
Sheppard watched in silence, making no attempt to help chase of the last few critters. He struggled not to smile, but lost the battle to laughter when the one in McKay's hair snuggled up to the ear it had been assaulting and appeared to fall asleep. McKay flicked off the ones clinging to his hands (who immediately raced after the others) but seemed not to notice he now had a living earmuff.
"Sometimes I hate you," McKay muttered, before turning and stomping back to the tent.
Sheppard continued to smile. "Love you, too!" he called after McKay. "And maybe next time the mission brief says the local fauna is extremely attracted to anything sweet you'll leave the SPF100 at home?"
Title: Waiting for Rescue… Again
Author: To be revealed
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Genre(s): Gen
Character(s): McKay, Sheppard
Disclaimer: Stargate belongs to Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc., no infringements of any rights is intended.
Prompt for the Round: A man is known by the company he keeps
Waiting for Rescue… Again by TO BE REVEALED
There was a muffled thud, more felt than heard. A slight shudder, and then a rain of dirt or mortar dust from the crumbling ceiling.
McKay muttered under his breath as he hunched over Sheppard, trying to deflect the worst of the detritus. He shifted his grip, pulling the other man a little closer and winced when he heard Sheppard gasp in pain.
"Sorry," he said. He ran his hands briskly up and down Sheppard's arms, trying to generate a little more warmth. Personally, his goosebumps had goosebumps and his toes were like ice cubes; Sheppard, weak from blood loss and pain and now running a fever, was shivering constantly.
Capture had been almost inevitable after a crossbow bolt drilled through Sheppard's calf, the barbed head snapping bone before exiting. The locals swarmed over them. The last McKay had seen of Teyla and Ronon they'd been surrounded, but still fighting. Something had struck his head and when he woke up he'd been in this cell with Sheppard. He hoped that the only reason Ronon and Teyla were not in the same cell was because their captors didn't want to overcrowd the room and had placed them in another cell. Better yet would be if they had managed to escape and were bringing help.
Their captors had stripped them down to their pants and t-shirts. He'd sacrificed his shirt to bind Sheppard's wound as best he could, but there was no way to clean it or splint the break. Sheppard was spiking a temperature now and he was beginning to worry that recue was not going to happen.
They'd been here at least one day, although it was difficult to tell with no window in their tiny cell; the only light came through a narrow slit in the rusty door. As prisons went, McKay rather thought this was the bottom of the barrel: damp, slimy walls; cold, stone floors; no furniture. They hadn't seen their captors since awakening. There'd been no food or water. Yelling through the slit in the door produced no results. At least no one had come to take them off for a bit of torture; it was the one semi-bright spot in this mess.
It should have been a basic "gate to a new world, walk around, find nothing, gate home again" mission; but it had been months since they'd been ambushed by the Wraith or the Genii or kidnapped by other indigenous inhabitants and needed to be rescued by Sheppard's Marines, so he supposed they were due.
He just wished the Marines would hurry up about it.
Another thud. More dirt and small rocks raining down on their heads. This one sounded like it was directly overhead. And it woke Sheppard.
"What...?" He tried to sit up, pushing distractedly at McKay's arms. "What was that?"
They could now hear muffled shouting and then the distinctive percussion of P-90 fire.
"From the sound of it, I'd say those misfits you call marines are finally here," McKay tried to keep his tone biting, but the relief crept in. "Blowing up everything that gets in their way, as usual. No subtlety in military thinking. Stop moving so much, you're not going anywhere yet."
Sheppard seemed to be trying to get to his feet, grunting in pain with each shift of his weight. McKay easily pressed him back to the floor, but stood up himself.
"Here. I'll go see if anything's visible."
"Thanks. And you're wrong. The military mind is capable of a great deal of subtlety," Sheppard said, sounding more amused than offended.
"Uh-huh," McKay muttered, rising on tip-toe to be able to see out of the slit on the door. The sounds of battle were definitely closer. "Well, they have found some pretty esoteric places to hide their porn in the Ancient database, but nothing detracts from the fact that it's porn - the most unsubtle of genres. I've come to the conclusion that Eleanor Roosevelt was right when said that Marines have 'the cleanest bodies, the filthiest minds, the highest morale, and the lowest morals.' I'm not sure about the first and third bits, but filthy minds and low morals sure fits." He turned from the door. "There's noth - "
The explosion rattled every surface in the cell and both men hunched over protectively. After their ears stopped ringing they could hear slamming doors and the practiced tones of Marines clearing rooms.
"Colonel Sheppard!" "Dr. McKay!"
"Here! We're here!" Sheppard yelled, then looked over at McKay. "You forgot the rest of that quote."
McKay, shaking with relief that rescue was at hand, had already forgotten what they had been talking about. He stopped nervously brushing at the embedded dirt on his pants and stared at Sheppard, wondering if the fever was making him incoherent. "What?"
Sheppard's smile broadened. "Eleanor also said 'Thank God for the United States Marine Corps!'”
(The entire quote by Eleanor Roosevelt is: “The Marines I have seen around the world have the cleanest bodies, the filthiest minds, the highest morale, and the lowest morals of any group of animals I have ever seen. Thank God for the United States Marine Corps!”)
Author: ga_unicorn
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Genre(s): Gen
Character(s): Team
Disclaimer: Stargate belongs to Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc., no infringements of any rights is intended.
Prompt for the Round: A man is known by the company he keeps
In Which McKay Befriends the Local Fauna by ga_unicorn
"Help me! Help!"
McKay was moving so fast that there was almost a doppler effect to his shrieks as he ran past.
Ronon started laughing again and Sheppard just shook his head as he worked to get the tent set up. They were going to be here the entire day and, while it was still early morning, the temperature under the glaring white sun was already in the triple digits and there was little in the way of shade in the area.
"Hel-pffft! pffft! blech! Help me, damn you, Sheppard!"
Doubled over with laughter, Ronon was being no help with the tent. Teyla, on her knees sorting through the equipment, looked at him disapprovingly. Sheppard stared back defiantly, or at least he tried. It was hard to do when she looked at him like he was a misbehaving toddler.
"John."
Damn it, now she was using The Voice.
"I warned him not to use that stuff," he offered weakly.
"You must help him, John; you know you do."
Damn it. He tossed the tent pole he'd been wrestling with to Ronon as he passed. McKay was running in a narrow ellipse and would be passing this point again in a few moments.
"Help! He-ooph!
Sheppard grabbed a flailing arm as McKay approached, pulling the man to an abrupt halt. Several dust colored furballs tumbled off of the scientist, but quickly scrambled back up his body, chirruping furiously.
The only indigenous fauna the original gate team had discovered was a small marsupial that lived in the Ancient ruins. Curious and friendly, they had left quite an impression. Their bodies were no larger than Teyla's fist, but their slender appendages - including tails - were twice as long and very deft. They were covered in a soft fur that came in all the shades of dust, the only color being their bright green eyes and long, pink tongues.
They were using those tongues now. At least two dozen of the little puffballs were clinging to the sputtering McKay, the slim tongues lapping at any exposed skin.
"Get 'em off, get 'em pfft!pfft! off, get 'em off," McKay's voice was muffled behind the critters clinging to his head. His arms waved in the air, trying to shake off the ones licking his fingers and palms. A few would lose their grip and go flying, but they were instantly replaced by excitedly peeping compatriots.
Sheppard ignored the squirming mass, pushing aside any who got in his way as he yanked open flaps on McKay's tac vest. When he found what he was looking for, he pulled it out and popped off the lid. Waving the tin box in the air close to McKay's body, he waited until the small green eyes were following his hand before he turned and threw it toward the far wall of the ruins. The peeping rose to a crescendo and a wave of fluff flowed down McKay's body and chased after the container.
A few stubborn poofs still clung to the disheveled scientist, licking frantically at fingertips; one determined fellow had his toes twisted in McKay's thinning hair while his tongue explored the curve of an ear. McKay didn't move, not even trying to brush away the fur glued to his skin by alien puffball saliva. His glare spoke volumes though.
Sheppard watched in silence, making no attempt to help chase of the last few critters. He struggled not to smile, but lost the battle to laughter when the one in McKay's hair snuggled up to the ear it had been assaulting and appeared to fall asleep. McKay flicked off the ones clinging to his hands (who immediately raced after the others) but seemed not to notice he now had a living earmuff.
"Sometimes I hate you," McKay muttered, before turning and stomping back to the tent.
Sheppard continued to smile. "Love you, too!" he called after McKay. "And maybe next time the mission brief says the local fauna is extremely attracted to anything sweet you'll leave the SPF100 at home?"
Title: Waiting for Rescue… Again
Author: To be revealed
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Genre(s): Gen
Character(s): McKay, Sheppard
Disclaimer: Stargate belongs to Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc., no infringements of any rights is intended.
Prompt for the Round: A man is known by the company he keeps
Waiting for Rescue… Again by TO BE REVEALED
There was a muffled thud, more felt than heard. A slight shudder, and then a rain of dirt or mortar dust from the crumbling ceiling.
McKay muttered under his breath as he hunched over Sheppard, trying to deflect the worst of the detritus. He shifted his grip, pulling the other man a little closer and winced when he heard Sheppard gasp in pain.
"Sorry," he said. He ran his hands briskly up and down Sheppard's arms, trying to generate a little more warmth. Personally, his goosebumps had goosebumps and his toes were like ice cubes; Sheppard, weak from blood loss and pain and now running a fever, was shivering constantly.
Capture had been almost inevitable after a crossbow bolt drilled through Sheppard's calf, the barbed head snapping bone before exiting. The locals swarmed over them. The last McKay had seen of Teyla and Ronon they'd been surrounded, but still fighting. Something had struck his head and when he woke up he'd been in this cell with Sheppard. He hoped that the only reason Ronon and Teyla were not in the same cell was because their captors didn't want to overcrowd the room and had placed them in another cell. Better yet would be if they had managed to escape and were bringing help.
Their captors had stripped them down to their pants and t-shirts. He'd sacrificed his shirt to bind Sheppard's wound as best he could, but there was no way to clean it or splint the break. Sheppard was spiking a temperature now and he was beginning to worry that recue was not going to happen.
They'd been here at least one day, although it was difficult to tell with no window in their tiny cell; the only light came through a narrow slit in the rusty door. As prisons went, McKay rather thought this was the bottom of the barrel: damp, slimy walls; cold, stone floors; no furniture. They hadn't seen their captors since awakening. There'd been no food or water. Yelling through the slit in the door produced no results. At least no one had come to take them off for a bit of torture; it was the one semi-bright spot in this mess.
It should have been a basic "gate to a new world, walk around, find nothing, gate home again" mission; but it had been months since they'd been ambushed by the Wraith or the Genii or kidnapped by other indigenous inhabitants and needed to be rescued by Sheppard's Marines, so he supposed they were due.
He just wished the Marines would hurry up about it.
Another thud. More dirt and small rocks raining down on their heads. This one sounded like it was directly overhead. And it woke Sheppard.
"What...?" He tried to sit up, pushing distractedly at McKay's arms. "What was that?"
They could now hear muffled shouting and then the distinctive percussion of P-90 fire.
"From the sound of it, I'd say those misfits you call marines are finally here," McKay tried to keep his tone biting, but the relief crept in. "Blowing up everything that gets in their way, as usual. No subtlety in military thinking. Stop moving so much, you're not going anywhere yet."
Sheppard seemed to be trying to get to his feet, grunting in pain with each shift of his weight. McKay easily pressed him back to the floor, but stood up himself.
"Here. I'll go see if anything's visible."
"Thanks. And you're wrong. The military mind is capable of a great deal of subtlety," Sheppard said, sounding more amused than offended.
"Uh-huh," McKay muttered, rising on tip-toe to be able to see out of the slit on the door. The sounds of battle were definitely closer. "Well, they have found some pretty esoteric places to hide their porn in the Ancient database, but nothing detracts from the fact that it's porn - the most unsubtle of genres. I've come to the conclusion that Eleanor Roosevelt was right when said that Marines have 'the cleanest bodies, the filthiest minds, the highest morale, and the lowest morals.' I'm not sure about the first and third bits, but filthy minds and low morals sure fits." He turned from the door. "There's noth - "
The explosion rattled every surface in the cell and both men hunched over protectively. After their ears stopped ringing they could hear slamming doors and the practiced tones of Marines clearing rooms.
"Colonel Sheppard!" "Dr. McKay!"
"Here! We're here!" Sheppard yelled, then looked over at McKay. "You forgot the rest of that quote."
McKay, shaking with relief that rescue was at hand, had already forgotten what they had been talking about. He stopped nervously brushing at the embedded dirt on his pants and stared at Sheppard, wondering if the fever was making him incoherent. "What?"
Sheppard's smile broadened. "Eleanor also said 'Thank God for the United States Marine Corps!'”
(The entire quote by Eleanor Roosevelt is: “The Marines I have seen around the world have the cleanest bodies, the filthiest minds, the highest morale, and the lowest morals of any group of animals I have ever seen. Thank God for the United States Marine Corps!”)