SGA Fic - Four Talents
Title: Four Talents
Rating: G
Characters: Team
Summary: You'd think they wouldn't have an ability like that, but they do, and know how to make it count.
A/N: Just a little bit of quick fluff that had been sitting on my mind for a while. Not beta'd, but edited.
Four Talents
Lt. Colonel John Sheppard can sew and doesn't care if anyone knows about it. Sure it spawns a few snickers from marines who think he can't see them, or hear them, despite the fact that they're currently training in the smallest gym that forces everyone to pack tight against the wall. But John doesn't say anything, because he's cool with it, and because everyone has something about them that others consider to be a joke (and John is privy to his men's private files, so there's balance when he's ready for it). And if you're going to have an embarrassing ability, it might as well be one that'll come in handy. In John's line of work, it comes in handy. His mom may have married rich, but hadn't been born rich, and she had wanted her sons to value those skills that most of middle-class and up America took for granted.
He can't put two pieces of cloth together, or knit a scarf, or whip up a stuffed animal. But he knows how to hide a hole, a rip, and a trick involving various natural chemicals from fruit and vinegar that can get rid of bloodstains. It saved him, and others, on clothes that first year in Atlantis, and still does. Especially if, like with a certain Satedan, what you have is all you have, and anything new is hard to come by. Or, like a certain Athosian, some clothes hold memories of people long since gone. Or, like with a certain scientist, he is otherwise too busy to think about these things. Sometimes, a lack of hole where there'd been a hole in a much needed, or favorite, shirt is better than getting a whole new wardrobe.
-----------------------
M. Rodney McKay had sworn to himself that he would die before anyone caught on to the fact that he was handy with a pair of scissors. Jeannie had suffered an unhealthy obsession over a doll with replaceable hair that she could cut and style to her psychotic female heart's content. And because their mom had been hell-bent on her children spending time together, Rodney had had no choice but to cut along with her. And if he didn't cut to Jeannie's like, then it was his dollar that went into the packages of replacement hair.
He had developed a few skills, whether he liked it or not. He knew, because Jeannie had said so and it took mom standing over her and tapping her foot before Jeannie ever complimented Rodney on anything.
Rodney was happy to keep those skills to himself. Then Katie needed a haircut, and the city's regional barber had suffered one too many anxiety attacks and called it quits.
Rodney can never say no to Katie. He draws the line at everyone else, no matter how much they beg, or bribe... depending on the bribe, and the hair to be cut, then exceptions might sometimes be made. It really isn't a bad talent, all things considered. He knows the trick to freeing up dreds when Ronon tangles them in branches or wraith fingers for the upteenth time. He made Teyla sigh in relief when she had wanted her hair shortened in just the right way. And not even John's wild-fire excuse of a mess can stop Rodney from hiding angry black stitches when there's a need. Sadly, there's often a need, and Rodney's always ready for it.
----------------------
Ronon Dex likes cake. Really, really likes it but he supposes that should have been obvious. His dad may have been the warrior outside the home but his mom had been the warrior in the kitchen. She'd had the knowledge and the skills to be anything she wanted, but Ronon could have sworn her greatest joy was when the family was tearing into whatever she cooked. Nothing else had ever made her smile so big. And, of course, her joy became everyone's joy to pass on when they had families of their own.
Seven years on the run had pushed the majority of mom's recipes to the misty corners of Ronon's mind, and no matter how he scrapes and digs, they refuse to come out of hiding. Except for Morgic spiced cake, because Ronon had loved it with a passion, and refused to give up on it. Trial and error brings him closer to perfecting it, until - finally - the triumph of finding Earth ingredients that make up for the lost ingredients. He mostly bakes the cake for himself, mostly at night, so no one else can see and try to beg some off him. He doesn't know why he's reluctant to share it, he just is, and doesn't care to figure it out.
But he can't bring himself to be greedy on Teyla's birthday, or Sheppard's or Rodney's. They are his team, his family. They deserve the best cake ever made in two galaxies. His joy becomes their joy, and a little piece of Sateda, and his mother, lives on
-----------------------
Teyla does not know what this “fung shway” is, but what ever it is, it is very coveted by the Lanteans. Those friends not members of her team often gush over the layout of her room, it's simple furnishings and candles and warm blankets and hangings. It's comfortable, they say - peaceful - and they often petition her to help them arrange their own rooms to exude that same aura.
The arrangement of one's dwelling into a configuration of comfort and welcome is as natural as breathing for an Athosian. There is little thinking involved, only feeling - the placement of a pot here, or hanging there, then moving it until it just felt right. Athosians own little compared to what Earth people own, but what an Athosian does own they cherish, for it isn't about ownership, it's about recollection. Each item is a memory, and the right placement of that item will join with other well-placed items to fill every inch of one's home with those memories. The location of the home may change, but the home itself stays the same.
Teyla's father had been a master of it. She had learned from the best, but still felt her skills pale in comparison to his.
Be that as it may, Teyla decides to use this skill on the room her team had chosen for recreation. Many teams had come to claim empty areas of Atlantis over the years, to gather and unwind among friends but without the crowds of Atlantis' main recreation room.
Teyla tidies it, organizes the movies, books, comic books and sheaves of music. She finds a much nicer table - made of strong glass, big enough to reach while sitting but not so big it takes up space - for the game consoles and DVD player. She brings in blankets and pillows, candles with soft scents meant to sooth, and pictures of them together. It isn't much, but when the team gathers to relax, there is a difference: lose muscles, easier motions, laughter and smiles that reach their eyes.
And it just feels right.
The End
Rating: G
Characters: Team
Summary: You'd think they wouldn't have an ability like that, but they do, and know how to make it count.
A/N: Just a little bit of quick fluff that had been sitting on my mind for a while. Not beta'd, but edited.
Four Talents
Lt. Colonel John Sheppard can sew and doesn't care if anyone knows about it. Sure it spawns a few snickers from marines who think he can't see them, or hear them, despite the fact that they're currently training in the smallest gym that forces everyone to pack tight against the wall. But John doesn't say anything, because he's cool with it, and because everyone has something about them that others consider to be a joke (and John is privy to his men's private files, so there's balance when he's ready for it). And if you're going to have an embarrassing ability, it might as well be one that'll come in handy. In John's line of work, it comes in handy. His mom may have married rich, but hadn't been born rich, and she had wanted her sons to value those skills that most of middle-class and up America took for granted.
He can't put two pieces of cloth together, or knit a scarf, or whip up a stuffed animal. But he knows how to hide a hole, a rip, and a trick involving various natural chemicals from fruit and vinegar that can get rid of bloodstains. It saved him, and others, on clothes that first year in Atlantis, and still does. Especially if, like with a certain Satedan, what you have is all you have, and anything new is hard to come by. Or, like a certain Athosian, some clothes hold memories of people long since gone. Or, like with a certain scientist, he is otherwise too busy to think about these things. Sometimes, a lack of hole where there'd been a hole in a much needed, or favorite, shirt is better than getting a whole new wardrobe.
-----------------------
M. Rodney McKay had sworn to himself that he would die before anyone caught on to the fact that he was handy with a pair of scissors. Jeannie had suffered an unhealthy obsession over a doll with replaceable hair that she could cut and style to her psychotic female heart's content. And because their mom had been hell-bent on her children spending time together, Rodney had had no choice but to cut along with her. And if he didn't cut to Jeannie's like, then it was his dollar that went into the packages of replacement hair.
He had developed a few skills, whether he liked it or not. He knew, because Jeannie had said so and it took mom standing over her and tapping her foot before Jeannie ever complimented Rodney on anything.
Rodney was happy to keep those skills to himself. Then Katie needed a haircut, and the city's regional barber had suffered one too many anxiety attacks and called it quits.
Rodney can never say no to Katie. He draws the line at everyone else, no matter how much they beg, or bribe... depending on the bribe, and the hair to be cut, then exceptions might sometimes be made. It really isn't a bad talent, all things considered. He knows the trick to freeing up dreds when Ronon tangles them in branches or wraith fingers for the upteenth time. He made Teyla sigh in relief when she had wanted her hair shortened in just the right way. And not even John's wild-fire excuse of a mess can stop Rodney from hiding angry black stitches when there's a need. Sadly, there's often a need, and Rodney's always ready for it.
----------------------
Ronon Dex likes cake. Really, really likes it but he supposes that should have been obvious. His dad may have been the warrior outside the home but his mom had been the warrior in the kitchen. She'd had the knowledge and the skills to be anything she wanted, but Ronon could have sworn her greatest joy was when the family was tearing into whatever she cooked. Nothing else had ever made her smile so big. And, of course, her joy became everyone's joy to pass on when they had families of their own.
Seven years on the run had pushed the majority of mom's recipes to the misty corners of Ronon's mind, and no matter how he scrapes and digs, they refuse to come out of hiding. Except for Morgic spiced cake, because Ronon had loved it with a passion, and refused to give up on it. Trial and error brings him closer to perfecting it, until - finally - the triumph of finding Earth ingredients that make up for the lost ingredients. He mostly bakes the cake for himself, mostly at night, so no one else can see and try to beg some off him. He doesn't know why he's reluctant to share it, he just is, and doesn't care to figure it out.
But he can't bring himself to be greedy on Teyla's birthday, or Sheppard's or Rodney's. They are his team, his family. They deserve the best cake ever made in two galaxies. His joy becomes their joy, and a little piece of Sateda, and his mother, lives on
-----------------------
Teyla does not know what this “fung shway” is, but what ever it is, it is very coveted by the Lanteans. Those friends not members of her team often gush over the layout of her room, it's simple furnishings and candles and warm blankets and hangings. It's comfortable, they say - peaceful - and they often petition her to help them arrange their own rooms to exude that same aura.
The arrangement of one's dwelling into a configuration of comfort and welcome is as natural as breathing for an Athosian. There is little thinking involved, only feeling - the placement of a pot here, or hanging there, then moving it until it just felt right. Athosians own little compared to what Earth people own, but what an Athosian does own they cherish, for it isn't about ownership, it's about recollection. Each item is a memory, and the right placement of that item will join with other well-placed items to fill every inch of one's home with those memories. The location of the home may change, but the home itself stays the same.
Teyla's father had been a master of it. She had learned from the best, but still felt her skills pale in comparison to his.
Be that as it may, Teyla decides to use this skill on the room her team had chosen for recreation. Many teams had come to claim empty areas of Atlantis over the years, to gather and unwind among friends but without the crowds of Atlantis' main recreation room.
Teyla tidies it, organizes the movies, books, comic books and sheaves of music. She finds a much nicer table - made of strong glass, big enough to reach while sitting but not so big it takes up space - for the game consoles and DVD player. She brings in blankets and pillows, candles with soft scents meant to sooth, and pictures of them together. It isn't much, but when the team gathers to relax, there is a difference: lose muscles, easier motions, laughter and smiles that reach their eyes.
And it just feels right.
The End