SGA Fic: Pretty Little Butterflies Can Go to Hell
Title: Pretty Little Butterflies Can Go to Hell
Characters: OT4
Rated: R, language
Notes: Just a wee bit o' crack. I remember talking months and months ago with runpunkrun about how I love a fic that can convincingly make Sheppard cry, since he's very much not a crier, which somehow lead to me saying "dude, that just makes me want to write the fic where he cries at like... everything. Ooh, pretty butterfly... *sobs*".
The closest Rodney’s ever seen to John crying was two seconds after they heard the explosion that killed Carson. For those two seconds he and John looked at each other and Rodney thought he might. His jaw was clenched and he was breathing hard and his eyes were kind of bright. He didn’t though, instead cursing and taking off at a run, leaving Rodney in the lab on the verge of hyperventilating as the tears began to spill out of his own eyes.
So imagine Rodney’s surprise when, on the way back from a perfectly pleasant meet-and-greet, John stoops to examine a butterfly and looks up at Rodney with one tear running down his face as he said, “Look how pretty!”
Rodney froze and stared down at him in abject horror. “Colonel?”
“It’s a butterfly, Rodney,” John said, grinning and reaching out his hand. When it landed on his hand, Rodney watched horrified as another tear came down. “Wow.”
“Uh.”
“You’re crying,” Ronon said, sounding just as shocked as Rodney, and a little bit disgusted.
John laughed. “What?” The butterfly flew away and John’s mouth turned down in a pout. “Aw, you scared him away.”
“John, is everything alright,” Teyla asked, putting a hand on John’s arm.
“What,” John asked, blinking and looking at her. “Yeah, perfectly fine.”
“You were crying,” Rodney yelled finally, pointing at him. “Two little tears, right there, on your face!”
“Rodney, what are you talking about,” John said, rolling his eyes and walking past Rodney.
“Whahuwaha,” Rodney garbled out, and Ronon shrugged, following behind John.
“Perhaps the allergies that you complain about so often are affliction John today,” Teyla said on the way back to the gate, frowning in concern at Rodney. “They make your eyes water on occasion, do they not?”
John turned around and looked back at them. “Guys, let’s get back, I think it’s starting to rain,” he said, wiping at his face. “I’m getting dropped on.”
“No,” Ronon said, “You’re crying. Over a butterfly.”
John laughed. “What are you talking about? Seriously, you guys don’t feel the rain?”
“Holy shit,” Rodney said suddenly, coming to a dead stop. “That priest! Oh my god, I fucking hate this galaxy’s priests!”
John frowned, waiting for Rodney to catch up to him. “What are you talking about?”
“He,” Rodney said, waving his hand spasmodically up and down in John’s direction. “He put a spell on you! He said, ‘I release you from your burden, feel lightened by my gift,’ and now you’re crying about a fucking butterfly, and oh my god, he broke you!”
John looked at him like he was crazy, but his smirk slowly faded as he caught Ronon and Teyla’s dawning looks of realization. “Guys. That’s crazy. I wasn’t crying.”
“You were, John,” Teyla said gravely. “It was very uncharacteristic of you.”
“Nah,” John said, waving a hand. “I don’t cry, guys. Seriously. It’s about to rain.”
Ronon stepped forward and put his hands on John’s shoulders. “You are like a brother, John. I care very deeply about you.”
John’s eyebrow rose and he looked as dubious as he’d ever looked, but one teeny tiny tear formed on the edge of his eyelash, even as he said, “Uh yeah, me too buddy. What was that for?”
John blinked, and the tear fell, and both Rodney and Ronon pointed at him and said, simultaneously, “Ha!”
“You guys, seriously, I’m really not crying,” John said, but his voice warbled just slightly. He coughed. “I don’t cry,” he said, and his voice broke in three places. His eyes widened. “I’m not. I don’t.” He cleared his throat and tapped his hand to his chest. “Guys, I--”
“It is all right, John,” Teyla said, stepping forward and placing her hand on his arm, walking forward towards the gate. “We will figure this out as we do all other things.”
“Thanks Teyla, that means a lot to me,” John said, and his breath caught in his throat and then his hands turned into fists and he jerked out of Teyla’s grasp and he whirled around to point an angry finger at Rodney. “Okay what the fuck is going on!”
Ronon grinned, and started laughing. “He turned you into a girl.”
“Ronon, that is not funny, there are many men that feel comfortable allowing themselves to express their emotions,” Teyla reprimanded him.
Rodney rocked back on his heels. “I don’t know, should we go back? Or should we get Jennifer to look at you first?”
John scowled, fists angrily beating into his legs. “I’m going to kill the priest, so we should probably go back to Atlantis first.”
“She’ll wanna take blood,” Ronon said through his smirk. “Sure you can handle that?”
John’s eyes flashed dangerously at him. “Look it, Chewie, I’m sure this is all very amusing, but--”
“Gonna cry about it,” Ronon asked, raising his eyebrows.
John punched Ronon in the arm, only to bring his hand away to shake it, obviously having hurt himself. Ronon just laughed.
Additional notes: That's all guys. Just, it fixed itself. One of these days I'm going to write a fic called "The Misadventures of Team Fuckup", because taht's how I've always referred to the foursome, Team Fuckup, considering they're always, ya know.... making everyone's lives miserable int heir wake. LOL. Anyway, someday I will write that fic, and this may be a part of that fic, but for now... that's it.
Characters: OT4
Rated: R, language
Notes: Just a wee bit o' crack. I remember talking months and months ago with runpunkrun about how I love a fic that can convincingly make Sheppard cry, since he's very much not a crier, which somehow lead to me saying "dude, that just makes me want to write the fic where he cries at like... everything. Ooh, pretty butterfly... *sobs*".
The closest Rodney’s ever seen to John crying was two seconds after they heard the explosion that killed Carson. For those two seconds he and John looked at each other and Rodney thought he might. His jaw was clenched and he was breathing hard and his eyes were kind of bright. He didn’t though, instead cursing and taking off at a run, leaving Rodney in the lab on the verge of hyperventilating as the tears began to spill out of his own eyes.
So imagine Rodney’s surprise when, on the way back from a perfectly pleasant meet-and-greet, John stoops to examine a butterfly and looks up at Rodney with one tear running down his face as he said, “Look how pretty!”
Rodney froze and stared down at him in abject horror. “Colonel?”
“It’s a butterfly, Rodney,” John said, grinning and reaching out his hand. When it landed on his hand, Rodney watched horrified as another tear came down. “Wow.”
“Uh.”
“You’re crying,” Ronon said, sounding just as shocked as Rodney, and a little bit disgusted.
John laughed. “What?” The butterfly flew away and John’s mouth turned down in a pout. “Aw, you scared him away.”
“John, is everything alright,” Teyla asked, putting a hand on John’s arm.
“What,” John asked, blinking and looking at her. “Yeah, perfectly fine.”
“You were crying,” Rodney yelled finally, pointing at him. “Two little tears, right there, on your face!”
“Rodney, what are you talking about,” John said, rolling his eyes and walking past Rodney.
“Whahuwaha,” Rodney garbled out, and Ronon shrugged, following behind John.
“Perhaps the allergies that you complain about so often are affliction John today,” Teyla said on the way back to the gate, frowning in concern at Rodney. “They make your eyes water on occasion, do they not?”
John turned around and looked back at them. “Guys, let’s get back, I think it’s starting to rain,” he said, wiping at his face. “I’m getting dropped on.”
“No,” Ronon said, “You’re crying. Over a butterfly.”
John laughed. “What are you talking about? Seriously, you guys don’t feel the rain?”
“Holy shit,” Rodney said suddenly, coming to a dead stop. “That priest! Oh my god, I fucking hate this galaxy’s priests!”
John frowned, waiting for Rodney to catch up to him. “What are you talking about?”
“He,” Rodney said, waving his hand spasmodically up and down in John’s direction. “He put a spell on you! He said, ‘I release you from your burden, feel lightened by my gift,’ and now you’re crying about a fucking butterfly, and oh my god, he broke you!”
John looked at him like he was crazy, but his smirk slowly faded as he caught Ronon and Teyla’s dawning looks of realization. “Guys. That’s crazy. I wasn’t crying.”
“You were, John,” Teyla said gravely. “It was very uncharacteristic of you.”
“Nah,” John said, waving a hand. “I don’t cry, guys. Seriously. It’s about to rain.”
Ronon stepped forward and put his hands on John’s shoulders. “You are like a brother, John. I care very deeply about you.”
John’s eyebrow rose and he looked as dubious as he’d ever looked, but one teeny tiny tear formed on the edge of his eyelash, even as he said, “Uh yeah, me too buddy. What was that for?”
John blinked, and the tear fell, and both Rodney and Ronon pointed at him and said, simultaneously, “Ha!”
“You guys, seriously, I’m really not crying,” John said, but his voice warbled just slightly. He coughed. “I don’t cry,” he said, and his voice broke in three places. His eyes widened. “I’m not. I don’t.” He cleared his throat and tapped his hand to his chest. “Guys, I--”
“It is all right, John,” Teyla said, stepping forward and placing her hand on his arm, walking forward towards the gate. “We will figure this out as we do all other things.”
“Thanks Teyla, that means a lot to me,” John said, and his breath caught in his throat and then his hands turned into fists and he jerked out of Teyla’s grasp and he whirled around to point an angry finger at Rodney. “Okay what the fuck is going on!”
Ronon grinned, and started laughing. “He turned you into a girl.”
“Ronon, that is not funny, there are many men that feel comfortable allowing themselves to express their emotions,” Teyla reprimanded him.
Rodney rocked back on his heels. “I don’t know, should we go back? Or should we get Jennifer to look at you first?”
John scowled, fists angrily beating into his legs. “I’m going to kill the priest, so we should probably go back to Atlantis first.”
“She’ll wanna take blood,” Ronon said through his smirk. “Sure you can handle that?”
John’s eyes flashed dangerously at him. “Look it, Chewie, I’m sure this is all very amusing, but--”
“Gonna cry about it,” Ronon asked, raising his eyebrows.
John punched Ronon in the arm, only to bring his hand away to shake it, obviously having hurt himself. Ronon just laughed.
Additional notes: That's all guys. Just, it fixed itself. One of these days I'm going to write a fic called "The Misadventures of Team Fuckup", because taht's how I've always referred to the foursome, Team Fuckup, considering they're always, ya know.... making everyone's lives miserable int heir wake. LOL. Anyway, someday I will write that fic, and this may be a part of that fic, but for now... that's it.