fic: prompt ficlets for Kriadydragon and Wildcat88
First, for kriadydragon, who requested McKay, being somehow unfair or extra snarky to Sheppard, gets his comeuppance.
*
It was a nice arch, as arches went. A bit weather-worn, with a couple vines trailing down one side. And the ground underneath it was stained white. If John listened hard, he could hear the rustle of wings coming from above it. Maybe. It was kind of hard to hear over Rodney’s current monologue.
“You know, I wouldn’t walk through there, if I were you.” Rodney, of course, didn’t turn around.
“What, are you a structural engineer now? It’s fine, Colonel.”
“I really think you shouldn’t.”
“Is that an order?”
“No.” Because if Rodney was determined to be an ass, John certainly wasn’t going to stand in the way of him getting his just deserts.
“In that case, I think I’ll just walk through this conveniently-placed doorway, toward this very promising power reading over there-”
Splat.
There was a glorious moment of utter silence, like the calm before a particularly explosive storm. John tried very hard not to smirk.
“Can’t say I didn’t warn you. And no, we’re not turning around until we’ve finished the mission.”
*
And for wildcat88, an unusual talent that Ronon has.
*
Towards the end of a long meeting-which Ronon attended only because they were discussing policy concerning culling refugees and runners-Sheppard started fiddling with the stack of print-outs he’d brought for some reason. Ronon didn’t think anything of it at the time, but afterward, he was surprised to see that Sheppard had been doing more than fiddling.
On the table in front of him were four or five objects, apparently made out of the print-outs, and when he threw one of them, it sailed the length of the room and out the door.
“What are those?” Ronon asked, trying not to sound as curious as he felt. It was a frivolous question.
“Oh, these?” Sheppard said, sending another of them across the table and crashing into the wall. “Just paper airplanes. Used to make them all the time when I was a kid.” Airplanes were like puddle jumpers, someone had explained to Ronon, but the things Sheppard had made didn’t look anything like the boxy puddle jumpers. “You didn’t make anything similar when you were a kid?”
“My cousin taught me how to make things out of drellas,” Ronon offered, but that hadn’t really been the same thing.
“‘Drellas’?” Sheppard asked, making a face as if the word tasted funny.
“Long thin tubes made out of a stretchy material-you’d blow into them and they’d puff up. Once you tied the end off, you could twist them into shapes and they’d stay that way, if you did it right.”
“Oh-balloons,” Sheppard said, confusion gone. “Cool.” He threw one of the remaining paper airplanes at Ronon, who caught it. The material wrinkled around his fingers, and he smoothed it out as best he could. “I could show you how make these some time, if you’d like.”
“Okay,” Ronon said, but didn’t give the paper airplane back.
Later, after the Daedalus had come and gone and come and gone again, a package appeared in the hallway outside Ronon’s room. Inside were handfuls of brightly-colored drellas-not exactly the same as the ones from his childhood, but close enough.
*
It was a nice arch, as arches went. A bit weather-worn, with a couple vines trailing down one side. And the ground underneath it was stained white. If John listened hard, he could hear the rustle of wings coming from above it. Maybe. It was kind of hard to hear over Rodney’s current monologue.
“You know, I wouldn’t walk through there, if I were you.” Rodney, of course, didn’t turn around.
“What, are you a structural engineer now? It’s fine, Colonel.”
“I really think you shouldn’t.”
“Is that an order?”
“No.” Because if Rodney was determined to be an ass, John certainly wasn’t going to stand in the way of him getting his just deserts.
“In that case, I think I’ll just walk through this conveniently-placed doorway, toward this very promising power reading over there-”
Splat.
There was a glorious moment of utter silence, like the calm before a particularly explosive storm. John tried very hard not to smirk.
“Can’t say I didn’t warn you. And no, we’re not turning around until we’ve finished the mission.”
*
And for wildcat88, an unusual talent that Ronon has.
*
Towards the end of a long meeting-which Ronon attended only because they were discussing policy concerning culling refugees and runners-Sheppard started fiddling with the stack of print-outs he’d brought for some reason. Ronon didn’t think anything of it at the time, but afterward, he was surprised to see that Sheppard had been doing more than fiddling.
On the table in front of him were four or five objects, apparently made out of the print-outs, and when he threw one of them, it sailed the length of the room and out the door.
“What are those?” Ronon asked, trying not to sound as curious as he felt. It was a frivolous question.
“Oh, these?” Sheppard said, sending another of them across the table and crashing into the wall. “Just paper airplanes. Used to make them all the time when I was a kid.” Airplanes were like puddle jumpers, someone had explained to Ronon, but the things Sheppard had made didn’t look anything like the boxy puddle jumpers. “You didn’t make anything similar when you were a kid?”
“My cousin taught me how to make things out of drellas,” Ronon offered, but that hadn’t really been the same thing.
“‘Drellas’?” Sheppard asked, making a face as if the word tasted funny.
“Long thin tubes made out of a stretchy material-you’d blow into them and they’d puff up. Once you tied the end off, you could twist them into shapes and they’d stay that way, if you did it right.”
“Oh-balloons,” Sheppard said, confusion gone. “Cool.” He threw one of the remaining paper airplanes at Ronon, who caught it. The material wrinkled around his fingers, and he smoothed it out as best he could. “I could show you how make these some time, if you’d like.”
“Okay,” Ronon said, but didn’t give the paper airplane back.
Later, after the Daedalus had come and gone and come and gone again, a package appeared in the hallway outside Ronon’s room. Inside were handfuls of brightly-colored drellas-not exactly the same as the ones from his childhood, but close enough.