[Stargate: Drabble] "Flea Market Adventure" [SG-22, G]
Title: Flea Market Adventure
Prompt: writerverse challenge #14 weekly quick fic #5 (‘antique’ & ‘triangles’)
Word Count: 831
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: Stargate SG-1 ( SG-22, original characters)
Summary: SG-22 finds a bit more at the flea market than a lamp for their living room (but they do find that, too).
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
Flea Market Adventure
“Hey, guys, what about this one?” asked Levi.
Gryff looked up from where she had been examining a shelf of dog-eared paperbacks, scanning the outdoor flea market until she spotted the sociologist. She frowned at the… whatever… he was standing beside.
“Lee?” asked Jason, who was nearer to him. “What is that?”
His smile fell slightly. “It’s a lamp,” he said, and if Gryff tilted her head, it did sort of resemble one. “I thought it could go in the living room.”
“Not my living room,” put in Toby. “And since we share it, we’re going to have a problem.”
“Now, boys,” said Gryff, grinning. She crossed to join them, keeping her left arm, in its bright blue cast, close to her chest to avoid bumping it. She’d gotten a hairline fracture on SG-22’s latest mission-turned-forced-mining-labor, the worst injury she’d had off-world, and the team was on down time until she healed. She had another two weeks to go, and her arm hardly hurt at all- she’d even given up wearing her sling most of the time, barely noticing the cast’s extra weight anymore.
When she came up beside them, all three of her men were examining the lamp, Levi looking interested, the other two more vaguely disturbed. “What do you think, Gryff?” Levi asked.
It was a truly awful, gaudy, outdated monstrosity- but she’d never actually say that. “It’s… It’s kind of too tall, Lee,” she said, instead. “I don’t think it’ll fit on the end tables. Do you think we could find something shorter?”
Levi sighed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’ll look!”
He darted off in the other direction, and Toby smiled. “Thanks, Gryff.”
She snorted. “Hey, it’s my living room, too.”
“Stop!” yelled a voice, suddenly. “Thief!”
The little old lady who had a stand selling books right by the entrance had fallen to the ground, one hand to her chest, the other pointing after a kid who took off running.
“Toby, Jason,” snapped Gryff, but her men were already moving. “Levi, stay with her.”
“Right, Gryff,” the sociologist told her. As Gryff ran after them, she saw him kneel beside the woman before she rounded the corner and they were out of sight.
The kid was ahead of them, a metal cashbox under his arm, but Toby and Jason were quickly catching up. Gryff was a fast runner, but as she passed an alley, she had a sudden idea. The kid kept darting looks at the two men chasing him, and hadn’t noticed her, so Gryff ducked into an alley, taking a shortcut between two buildings that would lead her back out into the street- ahead of the juvenile delinquent.
She could hear Jason shouting from somewhere to her left and put on a burst of speed, ducking under a half-fallen sign for a sidewalk sale and coming out just ahead of the three men. The thief tried to change direction, but Gryff brought her arm up sharply and her casted forearm connected with his face with a sickening crunch.
“By nobe!” he squealed.
“Probably broken,” said Toby, completely unsympathetic, grabbing the kid by his collar.
Jason snagged the cashbox before it could hit the ground. “Sir, you okay?”
Gryff grinned and held up her arm, cast and all. “Not even a scratch.”
The police met them at the flea market, and the members of SG-22 gave their statements. A retired nurse who’d been shopping took a look at the thief’s nose- which was, in fact, broken- and at Gryff’s arm.
“I don’t think there’s any damage,” she said, to the reluctant redhead. “But make sure your doctor takes another x-ray before it comes off for good. And wear some gloves, it’s getting cold out here.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Gryff. “But I didn’t bring any.”
“Wear mine, Gryff,” said Toby. “And- hey, that looks like a lamp.”
On a table in a corner sat something that looked more like an abstract sculpture, a series of connected triangles that shone somehow brighter than glass.
“It’s beautiful,” said Gryff. “How old do you think it is?”
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” said Levi. “Older than us, definitely.”
“We’ll take it,” Jason told the stall owner, and handed over the money. “This’ll look great on the end table.”
And it did.
“Nice,” said Gryff, as they stood admiring the glow of the lightbulb through the frosted glass. “Now let’s-”
“-get some rest, sir,” Jason interrupted. “You remember what Doc Fraiser said.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbled. “Get plenty of rest, captain, or that arm won’t heal. Do you really think she meant that?”
“You want to take that risk?” Toby countered. “Actually, we could all do with a rest.”
“Okay,” she agreed, and turned off the living room lights.
Gryff started for the stairs, and her un-casted hand brushed the polished-triangle glass of the lamp. The rest of SG-22 headed upstairs right behind her, so none of them saw the lamp slowly start to glow blue…
THE END
Current Mood:
clean
Prompt: writerverse challenge #14 weekly quick fic #5 (‘antique’ & ‘triangles’)
Word Count: 831
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: Stargate SG-1 ( SG-22, original characters)
Summary: SG-22 finds a bit more at the flea market than a lamp for their living room (but they do find that, too).
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
Flea Market Adventure
“Hey, guys, what about this one?” asked Levi.
Gryff looked up from where she had been examining a shelf of dog-eared paperbacks, scanning the outdoor flea market until she spotted the sociologist. She frowned at the… whatever… he was standing beside.
“Lee?” asked Jason, who was nearer to him. “What is that?”
His smile fell slightly. “It’s a lamp,” he said, and if Gryff tilted her head, it did sort of resemble one. “I thought it could go in the living room.”
“Not my living room,” put in Toby. “And since we share it, we’re going to have a problem.”
“Now, boys,” said Gryff, grinning. She crossed to join them, keeping her left arm, in its bright blue cast, close to her chest to avoid bumping it. She’d gotten a hairline fracture on SG-22’s latest mission-turned-forced-mining-labor, the worst injury she’d had off-world, and the team was on down time until she healed. She had another two weeks to go, and her arm hardly hurt at all- she’d even given up wearing her sling most of the time, barely noticing the cast’s extra weight anymore.
When she came up beside them, all three of her men were examining the lamp, Levi looking interested, the other two more vaguely disturbed. “What do you think, Gryff?” Levi asked.
It was a truly awful, gaudy, outdated monstrosity- but she’d never actually say that. “It’s… It’s kind of too tall, Lee,” she said, instead. “I don’t think it’ll fit on the end tables. Do you think we could find something shorter?”
Levi sighed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’ll look!”
He darted off in the other direction, and Toby smiled. “Thanks, Gryff.”
She snorted. “Hey, it’s my living room, too.”
“Stop!” yelled a voice, suddenly. “Thief!”
The little old lady who had a stand selling books right by the entrance had fallen to the ground, one hand to her chest, the other pointing after a kid who took off running.
“Toby, Jason,” snapped Gryff, but her men were already moving. “Levi, stay with her.”
“Right, Gryff,” the sociologist told her. As Gryff ran after them, she saw him kneel beside the woman before she rounded the corner and they were out of sight.
The kid was ahead of them, a metal cashbox under his arm, but Toby and Jason were quickly catching up. Gryff was a fast runner, but as she passed an alley, she had a sudden idea. The kid kept darting looks at the two men chasing him, and hadn’t noticed her, so Gryff ducked into an alley, taking a shortcut between two buildings that would lead her back out into the street- ahead of the juvenile delinquent.
She could hear Jason shouting from somewhere to her left and put on a burst of speed, ducking under a half-fallen sign for a sidewalk sale and coming out just ahead of the three men. The thief tried to change direction, but Gryff brought her arm up sharply and her casted forearm connected with his face with a sickening crunch.
“By nobe!” he squealed.
“Probably broken,” said Toby, completely unsympathetic, grabbing the kid by his collar.
Jason snagged the cashbox before it could hit the ground. “Sir, you okay?”
Gryff grinned and held up her arm, cast and all. “Not even a scratch.”
The police met them at the flea market, and the members of SG-22 gave their statements. A retired nurse who’d been shopping took a look at the thief’s nose- which was, in fact, broken- and at Gryff’s arm.
“I don’t think there’s any damage,” she said, to the reluctant redhead. “But make sure your doctor takes another x-ray before it comes off for good. And wear some gloves, it’s getting cold out here.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Gryff. “But I didn’t bring any.”
“Wear mine, Gryff,” said Toby. “And- hey, that looks like a lamp.”
On a table in a corner sat something that looked more like an abstract sculpture, a series of connected triangles that shone somehow brighter than glass.
“It’s beautiful,” said Gryff. “How old do you think it is?”
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” said Levi. “Older than us, definitely.”
“We’ll take it,” Jason told the stall owner, and handed over the money. “This’ll look great on the end table.”
And it did.
“Nice,” said Gryff, as they stood admiring the glow of the lightbulb through the frosted glass. “Now let’s-”
“-get some rest, sir,” Jason interrupted. “You remember what Doc Fraiser said.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbled. “Get plenty of rest, captain, or that arm won’t heal. Do you really think she meant that?”
“You want to take that risk?” Toby countered. “Actually, we could all do with a rest.”
“Okay,” she agreed, and turned off the living room lights.
Gryff started for the stairs, and her un-casted hand brushed the polished-triangle glass of the lamp. The rest of SG-22 headed upstairs right behind her, so none of them saw the lamp slowly start to glow blue…
THE END
Current Mood:
clean