I am so going to hell for this...
Okay, first of all. bluespirit_star and the_cephalopod will tell you that they had no part in this, but they are lying liars who lies. They are to blame for every word. They are also awesome, so I forgive them. *squishes them*.
Look what they made me write! And here is the post that spawned it all.
Joe spends a lot of time in John Sheppard’s head and he likes to think that he can maintain the same unflappable expression when faced with weird shit. There is, however, very little one can do to prepare oneself for the weird shit that springs from the brain of a certain David Hewlett, something Joe discovers when he finds David standing in front of their chairs, watching them suspiciously.
“Something wrong?” he asks, and David looks up, perplexedly.
“Our chairs. They weren’t standing this close together before.”
Joe studies the chairs. They look perfectly normal to him. Maybe not in the exact same spot where they left them, but he can’t really tell. “So? Someone moved them. You’re not going to turn diva on us, are you? Proclaim that no one may touch your chair?”
“But, but,” David sputters. “There’s no reason to move them. They’re not in the way of anyting! And tell you what,” he leans closer and lowers his voice. “It’s not the first time.”
“Okay.” Joe looks at David, then at the chairs, and then back at David again. “Are you feeling all right? I know it can be stressful being a new father and all, but...”
He’s interrupted by David’s finger waving in front of his face. “Something’s going on here, and I will not rest until I’ve found out what. Chairs do not move by themselves.”
“No,” Joe agrees. “No, they don’t. You’re perfectly right about that.”
Sometimes he suspects John Sheppard’s life makes more sense than his, despite the life sucking aliens.
* * *
The next time, Joe finds David kneeling on the floor in front of the chairs, butt in the air. He’s wielding a tape measure like a weapon and he’s scribbling frantically on the back of his script.
“Let me guess,” Joe says. “The chairs moved again?”
“Yes!” David stands up, waving the paper around. “Look here, I made notes. Ten inches yesterday, eleven the day before that and today they moved almost thirteen inches in the time it took me to go to the bathroom and back. See, I have proof!”
Joe studies the scribbled calculations for a moment and then says, “Remember that video you put on the net? With the pacifier and Baz’ pants on your head?”
“Yes?”
“This is not one of those things, is it?”
* * *
“Could it be ghosts? I bet it’s ghosts. Evil, chair moving ghosts!”
“David...”
* * *
“I think our chairs are doing filthy things to each other when we’re not looking. And your guitar is in on it! Look how it’s leaning towards my chair? Oh god, your guitar is a slut!”
“Um... David, you know you can talk to us, right? If there is something...”
“I’m not crazy! Just tell your chair to stop molesting mine!”
* * *
Joe stops and freezes. Did he just imagine it or did he just hear a faint screeching sound? Like that of a chair moving against the floor? He turns around slowly.
Okay. His chair was not standing that close to David’s a moment ago. And his guitar is sort of leaning towards... could it be possible?
No. No way. He shakes his head, turns his back and walks away. It’s best to just pretend it’s all perfectly normal. And hope that it doesn’t hit the internet.
- fin-
Look what they made me write! And here is the post that spawned it all.
Joe spends a lot of time in John Sheppard’s head and he likes to think that he can maintain the same unflappable expression when faced with weird shit. There is, however, very little one can do to prepare oneself for the weird shit that springs from the brain of a certain David Hewlett, something Joe discovers when he finds David standing in front of their chairs, watching them suspiciously.
“Something wrong?” he asks, and David looks up, perplexedly.
“Our chairs. They weren’t standing this close together before.”
Joe studies the chairs. They look perfectly normal to him. Maybe not in the exact same spot where they left them, but he can’t really tell. “So? Someone moved them. You’re not going to turn diva on us, are you? Proclaim that no one may touch your chair?”
“But, but,” David sputters. “There’s no reason to move them. They’re not in the way of anyting! And tell you what,” he leans closer and lowers his voice. “It’s not the first time.”
“Okay.” Joe looks at David, then at the chairs, and then back at David again. “Are you feeling all right? I know it can be stressful being a new father and all, but...”
He’s interrupted by David’s finger waving in front of his face. “Something’s going on here, and I will not rest until I’ve found out what. Chairs do not move by themselves.”
“No,” Joe agrees. “No, they don’t. You’re perfectly right about that.”
Sometimes he suspects John Sheppard’s life makes more sense than his, despite the life sucking aliens.
* * *
The next time, Joe finds David kneeling on the floor in front of the chairs, butt in the air. He’s wielding a tape measure like a weapon and he’s scribbling frantically on the back of his script.
“Let me guess,” Joe says. “The chairs moved again?”
“Yes!” David stands up, waving the paper around. “Look here, I made notes. Ten inches yesterday, eleven the day before that and today they moved almost thirteen inches in the time it took me to go to the bathroom and back. See, I have proof!”
Joe studies the scribbled calculations for a moment and then says, “Remember that video you put on the net? With the pacifier and Baz’ pants on your head?”
“Yes?”
“This is not one of those things, is it?”
* * *
“Could it be ghosts? I bet it’s ghosts. Evil, chair moving ghosts!”
“David...”
* * *
“I think our chairs are doing filthy things to each other when we’re not looking. And your guitar is in on it! Look how it’s leaning towards my chair? Oh god, your guitar is a slut!”
“Um... David, you know you can talk to us, right? If there is something...”
“I’m not crazy! Just tell your chair to stop molesting mine!”
* * *
Joe stops and freezes. Did he just imagine it or did he just hear a faint screeching sound? Like that of a chair moving against the floor? He turns around slowly.
Okay. His chair was not standing that close to David’s a moment ago. And his guitar is sort of leaning towards... could it be possible?
No. No way. He shakes his head, turns his back and walks away. It’s best to just pretend it’s all perfectly normal. And hope that it doesn’t hit the internet.
- fin-