Ficlet: Stargate Atlantis
Title: The Hair Stylings of Rodney McKay, Ph.D., Ph.D.
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: G
Summary: They're guys. What do they know about girls' hair?
Disclaimer: Not mine. Honest.
Author's Notes: Set in the Variable Stars universe. Just a little ficlet for pocky_slash who a) actually apparently reads this universe and b) has had her day go slantyface. Partly inspired by the goings on at casa_mcshep, but not posted there because I'm not sure it's really domestic enough, and you might need to read the previous stories in this universe. :)
~800 words
"There," Rodney says, leaning back to admire his handiwork.
John tilts his head. "I think they're lopsided," he says. They definitely are lopsided; he's just trying to break it to Rodney as gently as possible.
Scout shakes her head slightly, and the pigtail that had been listing lower on the right side of her head falls out completely. She laughs, hair half up and half down, one pigtail still mostly intact.
Rodney sighs.
"You're a mechanical engineer. I'm not sure what the problem is," John finally admits, shifting slightly on the carpet. Rodney's on the couch, Scout standing between his legs so he has easy access to her hair. John's sitting on the floor in front of both of them, leaning back on his hands.
Rodney gives him a withering look. "This isn't engineering." He scowls, undoing the other elastic band in Scout's hair so that it all falls down and gently curls around her shoulders.
"No, it's gravity," John says.
"I don't understand how you got so good at it," Rodney says, running a brush through Scout's hair again, being careful not to pull too hard.
John got good at it after spending two days with Teyla in the Athosian village, practicing ponytails, pigtails, buns, and even braids on any willing participants until he thought his fingers were going to fall off. "Security patrol for grain harvest" was the official title of the mission, but John had spent most of that weekend having old women roll their eyes at his attempts to perfect the intricate braid that was Scout's favorite, the one Teyla had the temerity to make look easy when she did it.
Not that John is going to admit any of that to Rodney.
There had also been that afternoon when Ronon had demonstrated five different traditional Satedan up-dos on Jennifer Keller.
John is definitely not going to admit that to Rodney.
In answer to Rodney, John shrugs. "Just got lucky, I guess."
"Got lucky. Got lucky," Rodney repeats. "How you managed to spawn the girliest girl in two galaxies, I have no idea."
At this, John grins. "Got especially lucky." He reaches out and tickles Scout's belly, making her laugh again. It's true, though; their quarters are a riot of pink and purple, sparkles and glittery accessories. Even at 18 months old, his daughter not only prefers dresses but refuses to wear pants -- unless they're the pink corduroys that Aunt Jeannie sent or the jeans with the embroidered flowers up the side of one leg. Sometimes, when he's picking out a dress covered with ducks, or folding a pair of little white socks with ruffles on them, he wonders when this became his life. Not that he would have it any other way, of course.
"Though considering your supply of hair gel, maybe I shouldn't be surprised at the hair obsession," Rodney continues.
"Hey," John says mildly. Scout bounces a little from foot to foot between Rodney's knees.
"You know," Rodney says casually. Too casually. John's interest is peaked. "Since you can already do the hair, I really don't see why I need to be able to."
"Because," John drawls. "She's your daughter, too, and we both have responsibility for taking care of her in the morning. Including all of her grooming needs."
"I can make breakfast," Rodney offers.
"You already make breakfast," John says.
"I do. That's right, I do -- shouldn't that count? I realize you, too, are capable of pouring cereal or only burning the toast slightly, and that you do fix breakfast sometimes, but -- sharing of duties and all that --"
John raises an eyebrow.
"Alright, yes, yes, fine." Rodney picks up a hot pink elastic with gold glittery specks peppered over it. He leans over a little bit. "Ponytail, okay Scout?"
"Hair up, Mer-Mer," she says, tilting her head to look at Rodney.
"Yes, hair up," Rodney says, picking the brush up again, the determined look on his face not unlike the one he gets when he's trying to increase a puddlejumper's shields by 15%, or when he's switching out Ancient crystals in Section 37 in an attempt to make power output there more efficient. It's a look John loves, and though he might not admit that out loud to Rodney, either, he does reach out and squeeze Rodney's knee.
Rodney smiles at him crookedly.
"You'll get it eventually," John says, not moving his hand.
"Well, of course," Rodney huffs, starting to gather up Scout's dark, wavy hair. "Two Ph.D.s," he says, using the brush to gesture in place of his hand. He stretches the elastic with his other hand. It flips and flies off, landing halfway across the room.
John bites his lip to stifle a bark of laughter. "And felled by a hairband," he says.
Scout starts to giggle, but it's not long before John joins in, squeezing Rodney's knee again until Rodney offers a wry smile.
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: G
Summary: They're guys. What do they know about girls' hair?
Disclaimer: Not mine. Honest.
Author's Notes: Set in the Variable Stars universe. Just a little ficlet for pocky_slash who a) actually apparently reads this universe and b) has had her day go slantyface. Partly inspired by the goings on at casa_mcshep, but not posted there because I'm not sure it's really domestic enough, and you might need to read the previous stories in this universe. :)
~800 words
"There," Rodney says, leaning back to admire his handiwork.
John tilts his head. "I think they're lopsided," he says. They definitely are lopsided; he's just trying to break it to Rodney as gently as possible.
Scout shakes her head slightly, and the pigtail that had been listing lower on the right side of her head falls out completely. She laughs, hair half up and half down, one pigtail still mostly intact.
Rodney sighs.
"You're a mechanical engineer. I'm not sure what the problem is," John finally admits, shifting slightly on the carpet. Rodney's on the couch, Scout standing between his legs so he has easy access to her hair. John's sitting on the floor in front of both of them, leaning back on his hands.
Rodney gives him a withering look. "This isn't engineering." He scowls, undoing the other elastic band in Scout's hair so that it all falls down and gently curls around her shoulders.
"No, it's gravity," John says.
"I don't understand how you got so good at it," Rodney says, running a brush through Scout's hair again, being careful not to pull too hard.
John got good at it after spending two days with Teyla in the Athosian village, practicing ponytails, pigtails, buns, and even braids on any willing participants until he thought his fingers were going to fall off. "Security patrol for grain harvest" was the official title of the mission, but John had spent most of that weekend having old women roll their eyes at his attempts to perfect the intricate braid that was Scout's favorite, the one Teyla had the temerity to make look easy when she did it.
Not that John is going to admit any of that to Rodney.
There had also been that afternoon when Ronon had demonstrated five different traditional Satedan up-dos on Jennifer Keller.
John is definitely not going to admit that to Rodney.
In answer to Rodney, John shrugs. "Just got lucky, I guess."
"Got lucky. Got lucky," Rodney repeats. "How you managed to spawn the girliest girl in two galaxies, I have no idea."
At this, John grins. "Got especially lucky." He reaches out and tickles Scout's belly, making her laugh again. It's true, though; their quarters are a riot of pink and purple, sparkles and glittery accessories. Even at 18 months old, his daughter not only prefers dresses but refuses to wear pants -- unless they're the pink corduroys that Aunt Jeannie sent or the jeans with the embroidered flowers up the side of one leg. Sometimes, when he's picking out a dress covered with ducks, or folding a pair of little white socks with ruffles on them, he wonders when this became his life. Not that he would have it any other way, of course.
"Though considering your supply of hair gel, maybe I shouldn't be surprised at the hair obsession," Rodney continues.
"Hey," John says mildly. Scout bounces a little from foot to foot between Rodney's knees.
"You know," Rodney says casually. Too casually. John's interest is peaked. "Since you can already do the hair, I really don't see why I need to be able to."
"Because," John drawls. "She's your daughter, too, and we both have responsibility for taking care of her in the morning. Including all of her grooming needs."
"I can make breakfast," Rodney offers.
"You already make breakfast," John says.
"I do. That's right, I do -- shouldn't that count? I realize you, too, are capable of pouring cereal or only burning the toast slightly, and that you do fix breakfast sometimes, but -- sharing of duties and all that --"
John raises an eyebrow.
"Alright, yes, yes, fine." Rodney picks up a hot pink elastic with gold glittery specks peppered over it. He leans over a little bit. "Ponytail, okay Scout?"
"Hair up, Mer-Mer," she says, tilting her head to look at Rodney.
"Yes, hair up," Rodney says, picking the brush up again, the determined look on his face not unlike the one he gets when he's trying to increase a puddlejumper's shields by 15%, or when he's switching out Ancient crystals in Section 37 in an attempt to make power output there more efficient. It's a look John loves, and though he might not admit that out loud to Rodney, either, he does reach out and squeeze Rodney's knee.
Rodney smiles at him crookedly.
"You'll get it eventually," John says, not moving his hand.
"Well, of course," Rodney huffs, starting to gather up Scout's dark, wavy hair. "Two Ph.D.s," he says, using the brush to gesture in place of his hand. He stretches the elastic with his other hand. It flips and flies off, landing halfway across the room.
John bites his lip to stifle a bark of laughter. "And felled by a hairband," he says.
Scout starts to giggle, but it's not long before John joins in, squeezing Rodney's knee again until Rodney offers a wry smile.