Fic: 5 Lives That Rodney McKay Never Lived
Title: 5 Lives That Rodney McKay Never Lived
Author: ladyyueh
Disclaimer: Not my property and no infringement is intended.
Rating: PG-13 (Some slashy tones/insinuations.)
Word Count: 1080
Notes: My brain is cracked, I know this. Innumerable thanks to kimberyfdr who beta-ed this with startling speed. Inside, you’ll read five fusions (I suppose that’s a much more apt term than crossovers) which I haven’t identified. First person to name all five gets to request fic from me. (Betas who were told what they were are disqualified!) Have fun!
--------
Maredithrodnemakae was a genius.
And that said something when his planet boasted some of the most brilliant minds in the entirety of all of space and time. Considering that they had harnessed time travel eons ago and faster than light space travel long before that, it took a considerably impressive intellect to earn the term. His people created black holes, they played with the elements of the universe during childhood, they had no equals.
The problem was that his people seemed to be stagnating. They no longer strove for more, believing that they knew all that they ever needed, that their civilization would endure for eternity.
The reasoning of dull minds.
There was always more to learn and progress was necessary for survival. Even the most backwards of so-called scientists on any primitive world knew that.
He’d show them. He’d drag them away from their small-minded, hidebound traditions and present them with the concept of original thinking if it killed him.
It just might.
--------
John Sheppard had been Rodney McKay’s rival for years. And when Rodney’s life consisted of either minions or sheep too stupid for consideration, rival pretty much equaled friend.
After all, he couldn’t be expected to become anything more than close comrades with his subordinates since then they wouldn’t be in awe of him.
Sheppard was the first punk to ever go up against him and win.
No other had ever managed that. Any muscle-head knew better than to try and fuck with him and his group because of the very real fear that the geeks would blow their shit up.
But John Sheppard actually had a brain under all that hair.
Or so he’d thought.
“Are you out of your goddamned mind, Sheppard?! You come back from the fucking dead--and I‘m not even going to mention that freaky dream with kissing--with some half-assed ‘prank‘ excuse, become some kind of ghost detective and assemble a team that consists of criminals that tried to kill you!? Has the gel finally killed your brain? You’re stupider than I can even fathom!”
In response to his ranting, the obscenely attractive Teyla smiles serenely as she twirls a flower, while Ronon grunts and continues to devour his personal stash of ice-cream at an alarmingly fast rate.
“Technically, Teyla never actually tried--” Sheppard begins in his usual unconcerned manner.
“Not the point! And what’s this about this guy being death? What kind of asinine--”
“Oi! I’m a grim reaper.” The boy glares feebly.
“You’re perky and you have a foreign accent.” Rodney sneers.
“Have a care, lad, or you might be meetin’ me in a much more formal capacity,” he warns Rodney as he threatens him with some kind of spontaneously appearing, wooden implement.
“Hey! No need for that!” Sheppard cuts in abruptly. “Does this mean you won’t be joining my team?” he asks nonchalantly.
“Hunting supernatural monsters with only criminals to watch my back so they can put a knife in it? Someone’s got to keep your scrawny ass alive!“ Rodney screeches. “I swear to god I‘ll haunt your miserable hide if you get me killed,” he adds lowly in a solemn tone that promises he‘ll deliver on his warning.
“Sweet.” Sheppard grins as he laces his fingers behind his head.
--------
It just wasn’t fair!
How was it his fault that his parents had made him baby-sit Jeannie, who’d thrown furious tantrums and wouldn’t shut up, so that his experiment had been irrevocably ruined, (hours of work, wasted!) and that he’d become so frustrated that he’d uttered some completely inane line about goblins? (Magic wasn’t supposed to be real! Why had no one told him that magic was real? Was interplanetary, wormhole travel possible now, too?)
Now he had to run some kind of maze to reach his sister within thirteen hours while the absolutely hot Goblin King--leather and silk! How was that even legal?!--tried to seduce him into failing. (And if the guy showed up with that goddamned riding crop again and that maddening smirk and the absolutely impossible hair, he’d probably succeed, too. He was a fifteen year old boy, for cryin’ out loud! It was a miracle he’d held out for this long!)
So not fair.
--------
“Are you talking to me?” Rodney asked hysterically as he tried to convince himself that he was experiencing some kind of hypoglycemic delusion because he’d woken up late and forgotten his lunch, again.
The cat sighed. “Yes, I’m talking to you. My name is Lu--”
“How are you talking to me? No, wait, hunger-induced hallucination. I know the drill. Well, at least you thanked me for rescuing you from those brats. I’ll be on my way now before I keel over and fall into a coma.”
The cat followed him.
Of course.
“Usually I like cats, love cats, but this is--”
“Talking to yourself, meatball face?”
Rodney turned to glare at his smirking nemesis. “I’m talking to the cat, Sheppard.” He blushed as he realized how stupid that sounded. “And stop calling me that!”
“Watching you gorge yourself on the things is something my gag reflex will never forget, meatball face. Also, do you have to torture that poor cat with your ramblings?” Sheppard teased.
Rodney sneered. “The cat provides me with more scintillating conversation than you could ever hope to, Sheppard. Why don’t you go off to flirt with some co-ed and stop harassing the under-aged minor!”
He flounced off.
And tripped.
Face red and willfully ignoring Sheppard’s hysterical laughter, he collected himself and continued on.
The damned cat followed.
--------
“Come with me if you want to live,” he intones solemnly, understanding that this was the proper and traditional form of address upon first contact.
John Sheppard stares incredulously before busting into uncontrollable laughter.
“What?” he asks, confused.
“You? You’re a--you’re a Terminator?” John Sheppard’s gasps out the question between bouts of laughter in a tone of disbelief.
Human respiratory systems are so ineffective.
“I’m the M.R.K, I’m most advanced model you’ll ever meet; the only one of my kind,” he boasts.
“Thank god for that,” John Sheppard mutters as his laughter stops.
He glares, understanding that he‘s been insulted and must respond with the proper reaction. “Listen, just because my predecessors are all conspicuous metal-heads with no comprehension of stealth and all the subtlety of multiple explosions, doesn’t mean that I can’t protect you.”
John Sheppard looks curious. “What have you got that the 101 model doesn’t?” he challenges.
“A brain,” he quips.
John Sheppard laughs.
Author: ladyyueh
Disclaimer: Not my property and no infringement is intended.
Rating: PG-13 (Some slashy tones/insinuations.)
Word Count: 1080
Notes: My brain is cracked, I know this. Innumerable thanks to kimberyfdr who beta-ed this with startling speed. Inside, you’ll read five fusions (I suppose that’s a much more apt term than crossovers) which I haven’t identified. First person to name all five gets to request fic from me. (Betas who were told what they were are disqualified!) Have fun!
--------
Maredithrodnemakae was a genius.
And that said something when his planet boasted some of the most brilliant minds in the entirety of all of space and time. Considering that they had harnessed time travel eons ago and faster than light space travel long before that, it took a considerably impressive intellect to earn the term. His people created black holes, they played with the elements of the universe during childhood, they had no equals.
The problem was that his people seemed to be stagnating. They no longer strove for more, believing that they knew all that they ever needed, that their civilization would endure for eternity.
The reasoning of dull minds.
There was always more to learn and progress was necessary for survival. Even the most backwards of so-called scientists on any primitive world knew that.
He’d show them. He’d drag them away from their small-minded, hidebound traditions and present them with the concept of original thinking if it killed him.
It just might.
--------
John Sheppard had been Rodney McKay’s rival for years. And when Rodney’s life consisted of either minions or sheep too stupid for consideration, rival pretty much equaled friend.
After all, he couldn’t be expected to become anything more than close comrades with his subordinates since then they wouldn’t be in awe of him.
Sheppard was the first punk to ever go up against him and win.
No other had ever managed that. Any muscle-head knew better than to try and fuck with him and his group because of the very real fear that the geeks would blow their shit up.
But John Sheppard actually had a brain under all that hair.
Or so he’d thought.
“Are you out of your goddamned mind, Sheppard?! You come back from the fucking dead--and I‘m not even going to mention that freaky dream with kissing--with some half-assed ‘prank‘ excuse, become some kind of ghost detective and assemble a team that consists of criminals that tried to kill you!? Has the gel finally killed your brain? You’re stupider than I can even fathom!”
In response to his ranting, the obscenely attractive Teyla smiles serenely as she twirls a flower, while Ronon grunts and continues to devour his personal stash of ice-cream at an alarmingly fast rate.
“Technically, Teyla never actually tried--” Sheppard begins in his usual unconcerned manner.
“Not the point! And what’s this about this guy being death? What kind of asinine--”
“Oi! I’m a grim reaper.” The boy glares feebly.
“You’re perky and you have a foreign accent.” Rodney sneers.
“Have a care, lad, or you might be meetin’ me in a much more formal capacity,” he warns Rodney as he threatens him with some kind of spontaneously appearing, wooden implement.
“Hey! No need for that!” Sheppard cuts in abruptly. “Does this mean you won’t be joining my team?” he asks nonchalantly.
“Hunting supernatural monsters with only criminals to watch my back so they can put a knife in it? Someone’s got to keep your scrawny ass alive!“ Rodney screeches. “I swear to god I‘ll haunt your miserable hide if you get me killed,” he adds lowly in a solemn tone that promises he‘ll deliver on his warning.
“Sweet.” Sheppard grins as he laces his fingers behind his head.
--------
It just wasn’t fair!
How was it his fault that his parents had made him baby-sit Jeannie, who’d thrown furious tantrums and wouldn’t shut up, so that his experiment had been irrevocably ruined, (hours of work, wasted!) and that he’d become so frustrated that he’d uttered some completely inane line about goblins? (Magic wasn’t supposed to be real! Why had no one told him that magic was real? Was interplanetary, wormhole travel possible now, too?)
Now he had to run some kind of maze to reach his sister within thirteen hours while the absolutely hot Goblin King--leather and silk! How was that even legal?!--tried to seduce him into failing. (And if the guy showed up with that goddamned riding crop again and that maddening smirk and the absolutely impossible hair, he’d probably succeed, too. He was a fifteen year old boy, for cryin’ out loud! It was a miracle he’d held out for this long!)
So not fair.
--------
“Are you talking to me?” Rodney asked hysterically as he tried to convince himself that he was experiencing some kind of hypoglycemic delusion because he’d woken up late and forgotten his lunch, again.
The cat sighed. “Yes, I’m talking to you. My name is Lu--”
“How are you talking to me? No, wait, hunger-induced hallucination. I know the drill. Well, at least you thanked me for rescuing you from those brats. I’ll be on my way now before I keel over and fall into a coma.”
The cat followed him.
Of course.
“Usually I like cats, love cats, but this is--”
“Talking to yourself, meatball face?”
Rodney turned to glare at his smirking nemesis. “I’m talking to the cat, Sheppard.” He blushed as he realized how stupid that sounded. “And stop calling me that!”
“Watching you gorge yourself on the things is something my gag reflex will never forget, meatball face. Also, do you have to torture that poor cat with your ramblings?” Sheppard teased.
Rodney sneered. “The cat provides me with more scintillating conversation than you could ever hope to, Sheppard. Why don’t you go off to flirt with some co-ed and stop harassing the under-aged minor!”
He flounced off.
And tripped.
Face red and willfully ignoring Sheppard’s hysterical laughter, he collected himself and continued on.
The damned cat followed.
--------
“Come with me if you want to live,” he intones solemnly, understanding that this was the proper and traditional form of address upon first contact.
John Sheppard stares incredulously before busting into uncontrollable laughter.
“What?” he asks, confused.
“You? You’re a--you’re a Terminator?” John Sheppard’s gasps out the question between bouts of laughter in a tone of disbelief.
Human respiratory systems are so ineffective.
“I’m the M.R.K, I’m most advanced model you’ll ever meet; the only one of my kind,” he boasts.
“Thank god for that,” John Sheppard mutters as his laughter stops.
He glares, understanding that he‘s been insulted and must respond with the proper reaction. “Listen, just because my predecessors are all conspicuous metal-heads with no comprehension of stealth and all the subtlety of multiple explosions, doesn’t mean that I can’t protect you.”
John Sheppard looks curious. “What have you got that the 101 model doesn’t?” he challenges.
“A brain,” he quips.
John Sheppard laughs.