The Eternally Unnamed (McShep, Crack!AU, PG)
berlinghoff79 wanted this, so… merry Christmas. Have fun reading while I go hide my face in shame.
~~~
Art by chkc
He'd always been something of a loner. Some of his peers had called him too daring to earn himself any kind of positive reputation, and most wouldn't want to be seen standing next to him. But he didn't care what they said about him; he knew his worth. He was a rebel, one of a few who didn't follow the rules without questioning them. He was different, he was dashing, he was dynamic.
He was Sheppard's Premium Tomato Ketchup.
And it wasn't like he didn't score with the ladies; hell, his bottle had even been called rakish once or twice. Young women in particular seemed to enjoy his appearance - and his taste. He went with everything: the finest steak and the cheapest french-fries, plain toast and meticulously planned dinners. He was used to being the universal go-to ketchup.
This, though, was a little weird.
Hovering at the edge of his bottle, he stared at the mountain of peas on the deep plate under him. They were green. They were peas. One of them stared back at him, managing to look amazingly impatient.
For a pea.
"What?" it snapped finally. "Have you led such a sheltered and withdrawn life that you've never seen green peas before?"
"Of course I've seen peas," he answered irritably.
"Well, then, uh," the pea peered at his label, "Sheppard. Hurry up and get out of that bottle, chop chop, some of us don't have all day."
Aside from the question what a pea could possibly have to do besides lie on a plate and turn cold, Sheppard really had a problem with that. It wasn't that he didn't want to leave his bottle per se, it was just...
"Ketchup and peas don't go together."
"And obviously, you'd be an expert on that. Except, wait a minute, you can't be an expert, seeing as how you're hiding inside your bottle!"
"What do you know, you're a pea!"
"I'll have you know that we're the finest Canadian frozen peas you'll ever get your sticky self in contact with. We are tasty, something that sadly can't be said about certain low quality products." The pea threw a meaningful glance at Sheppard's label.
"Hey! My tomatoes have the ATA™ gene*!"
"How very significant, you must be stupendously proud. So, are you coming out of that bottle or what?"
He didn't want to. But The One Who'd Bought Him was approaching the opening of his bottle with a knife, so it was kind of now or never if he wanted to keep a little dignity. So he sighed, muttered a last token protest, and gave in.
It was… different. The peas had a strong, fresh flavour that made a surprisingly good counterpoint to his own, and their round bodies swimming inside him felt, well… kind of nice, actually.
"See?" his pea said smugly. "That wasn't so bad, now, was it?"
It really wasn't, but Sheppard would throw himself off the plate before he'd admit that. Instead, he drawled as annoyingly as he could: "So. What's a pea like you doing in this part of the kitchen?"
It led to an outraged lecture on the stupidity of tomatoes, which led into a diatribe about the stupidity of every garden vegetable that wasn't a pea - and Sheppard kind of saved pointing out that tomatoes were actually fruit for later - followed by a detailed list of reasons why, exactly, the Canadian frozen pea was superior to all other frozen peas. Sheppard gathered himself into a nice little puddle, and let the pea rant.
He figured that if they were going to be eaten together, they might as well get to know each other a little. And maybe, just maybe, he thought, eyeing the tiny hole that led through the pea's thick skin to its soft, plump body, maybe they could mingle.
Just a little.
~~~
*ATA: Amazingly Tomato-y Aftertaste
Sequel. *facepalm*
~~~
Art by chkc
He'd always been something of a loner. Some of his peers had called him too daring to earn himself any kind of positive reputation, and most wouldn't want to be seen standing next to him. But he didn't care what they said about him; he knew his worth. He was a rebel, one of a few who didn't follow the rules without questioning them. He was different, he was dashing, he was dynamic.
He was Sheppard's Premium Tomato Ketchup.
And it wasn't like he didn't score with the ladies; hell, his bottle had even been called rakish once or twice. Young women in particular seemed to enjoy his appearance - and his taste. He went with everything: the finest steak and the cheapest french-fries, plain toast and meticulously planned dinners. He was used to being the universal go-to ketchup.
This, though, was a little weird.
Hovering at the edge of his bottle, he stared at the mountain of peas on the deep plate under him. They were green. They were peas. One of them stared back at him, managing to look amazingly impatient.
For a pea.
"What?" it snapped finally. "Have you led such a sheltered and withdrawn life that you've never seen green peas before?"
"Of course I've seen peas," he answered irritably.
"Well, then, uh," the pea peered at his label, "Sheppard. Hurry up and get out of that bottle, chop chop, some of us don't have all day."
Aside from the question what a pea could possibly have to do besides lie on a plate and turn cold, Sheppard really had a problem with that. It wasn't that he didn't want to leave his bottle per se, it was just...
"Ketchup and peas don't go together."
"And obviously, you'd be an expert on that. Except, wait a minute, you can't be an expert, seeing as how you're hiding inside your bottle!"
"What do you know, you're a pea!"
"I'll have you know that we're the finest Canadian frozen peas you'll ever get your sticky self in contact with. We are tasty, something that sadly can't be said about certain low quality products." The pea threw a meaningful glance at Sheppard's label.
"Hey! My tomatoes have the ATA™ gene*!"
"How very significant, you must be stupendously proud. So, are you coming out of that bottle or what?"
He didn't want to. But The One Who'd Bought Him was approaching the opening of his bottle with a knife, so it was kind of now or never if he wanted to keep a little dignity. So he sighed, muttered a last token protest, and gave in.
It was… different. The peas had a strong, fresh flavour that made a surprisingly good counterpoint to his own, and their round bodies swimming inside him felt, well… kind of nice, actually.
"See?" his pea said smugly. "That wasn't so bad, now, was it?"
It really wasn't, but Sheppard would throw himself off the plate before he'd admit that. Instead, he drawled as annoyingly as he could: "So. What's a pea like you doing in this part of the kitchen?"
It led to an outraged lecture on the stupidity of tomatoes, which led into a diatribe about the stupidity of every garden vegetable that wasn't a pea - and Sheppard kind of saved pointing out that tomatoes were actually fruit for later - followed by a detailed list of reasons why, exactly, the Canadian frozen pea was superior to all other frozen peas. Sheppard gathered himself into a nice little puddle, and let the pea rant.
He figured that if they were going to be eaten together, they might as well get to know each other a little. And maybe, just maybe, he thought, eyeing the tiny hole that led through the pea's thick skin to its soft, plump body, maybe they could mingle.
Just a little.
~~~
*ATA: Amazingly Tomato-y Aftertaste
Sequel. *facepalm*