TEAM AWAY: Chapter and verse, "Quiet on the Set"
Title: Quiet on the Set
Author: fractalreality
Team: Away
Prompt: Chapter and verse
Pairing(s): McKay/Sheppard
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Summary: "Quiet on the set!" was something Rodney never quite grasped as a concept…
Authors notes: Not exactly what I meant to write for my first foray into SGA fic, but the original idea would not gel and so this appeared. The prompt interpretation is perhaps more literal than most would've expected, but hopefully the story is still enjoyable! One day, I *will* write my Shakespearean Quantum Leap crack adventure... Many thanks to littlekitsch, iceandlime, and_i and the guys of mcshep_away for the hand holding and encouragement.
Once you've read the story, please take a moment to vote in the poll below. Ratings go from 1 (low) to 9 (high), so all you need to do is enter a single number in that range into each text entry box. You'll be able to see the Prompt and Team (Genre) information in the header above.
More details about the voting procedure can be found here.
**
”CUT!”
"You! Yes you, in the leather. How many times have I got to tell you, she wasn't written to be a one-dimensional blonde bimbo! Ok, yes, she's hot - why wouldn't she be, after all she can't resist the brilliance of m… the lead character, but at least try to *sound* intelligent - that's what they pay you for, right? To ACT? Honestly, I don't know why I even..."
"RODNEY!"
"...yes?"
"You are not director, yes? You do not even need to be here - I wish you were not. Please, go away now. I would like to do my job - that is directing, if you had not noticed."
Radek Zelenka sighed, watching as once again his very volatile, very expensive lead actress stormed off-set because of one Rodney McKay, international best-selling author and all-round pain in the ass.
****************
"Right, yes, well... of *course* I’m going to be concerned when some imbecile takes my carefully constructed dialogue and fucks it up. It's only my entire reputation on the line, God knows Kavanagh is already having a field day with his reviews and..."
Rodney stopped mid-rant, eyes wide as a man in black materialised directly in front of him, shrouded in shadow and saying nothing.
"What are you doing, lurking back here - trying to give me a heart attack? Seriously. Do you even work here?"
The man scratched his head sheepishly. “Yeah, I…”
"Never mind. Are you busy right now? Do something useful, go get me some coffee, I have dialogue to re-write."
************************
10 minutes later, coffee in hand and introductions made (“I’m McKay. Rodney McKay” … “Yeah, I know. I’m John”), Rodney put his pen down on the table in the food tent and sighed.
“So, aren’t you a bit old to be a teaboy?”
“I never said I was the teaboy.”
“Then why did you bring me coffee?”
“Well, you asked - it seemed rude not to indulge the guy who’s basically paying my wages,” John smirked, taking the last biscuit from the plate in front of Rodney.
“Yeah? So what do you do? Camera man? No, you’re too scrawny for that. Editor? No, wait, that’s Lorne. You aren’t an actor are you? Because I wrote no part for a crazy haired teaboy… that’s it! You’re a rejected actor here to seek revenge on Radek for not casting you!”
Rodney grinned smugly before leaning in towards John and whispering dramatically, “His trailer’s the one next to the car park.”
John laughed; a horrible, donkey-like braying sound that made Rodney jump back in his seat, horrified.
“Ok, so never do that again.”
John looked down at the table, the tops of his ears (pointy, Rodney thought) turning red as he mumbled an apology.
“I’m, ah, I’m your sound man. Well…”
“Shouldn’t you be on set?! It’s bad enough that Miss Peroxide in there is ruining my life, I don’t see any reason why you should join in…”
“McKay?”
“Hmm?”
“Shut up and drink your coffee.”
John smiled fondly as Rodney drank without question, watching with amusement as the inner battle of whether to talk or listen passed across his face. John decided to save him the hassle.
“By sound man, McKay, I mean I’m your music man. Composer, lyricist, whatever. John Sheppard, nice to meet you.”
He held out his hand, flinching almost imperceptibly at the look of recognition on Rodney’s face.
“Shep? As in, Shep the guy who supposedly ruined Maybourne’s big summer blockbuster?”
Yeah,” John replied tightly. “That’s me.”
He made to get up, stopped only by Rodney’s “Good.”
“Sorry?”
I’m glad you stood up to Maybourne; God I hate him. Did you know he wanted to take my novel and turn it into trash? I’ve heard you score… oh don’t look at me like that, have you heard of the internet?... it’s much better than what they went with. More…”
“Real? Yeah.”
John settled into his chair, ready to field the inevitable ‘why’ that he could see dancing behind Rodney’s eyes.
“I was in the military. Briefly. Maybourne wanted some dramatic and heroic bull, something to glorify what was already … not to my taste, shall we say. So, I hung around on set, watched peoples’ reactions, read the script, and gave them the score.”
John grinned tightly.
“Of course, it wasn’t what they wanted - who wants to show the military in all its glory? So, they hired someone else, went over budget and saw to it I’d be ‘blacklisted’… nice guy.”
Rodney stared at him, but not with the usual disdain John could almost always sense in others.
“So, why are you here then? If you’re the bane of the film industry.”
“Elizabeth. She feels kinda bad about getting me the other gig, so I think she thinks she owes me one. Radek and the other Atlantis crew guys are pretty accommodating too to the way I work and… I like them, y’know?”
“Why do you think I’m letting them make my film? Radek isn’t a complete moron and listens... mostly… when I tell him he’s wrong.”
John smirked, getting up from his seat and looking over his shoulder at Rodney.
“You coming back onto set? Some of us have work to do…”
“I… uh… Radek banished me.”
Chuckling, John walked back and hauled Rodney from his chair.
“C’mon, we’ll take him some coffee and say that we are discussing very important things.”
“…whilst checking out the cast?”
“You got it, buddy.”
*****************
For the remainder of the week, the pair were inseparable. Although most of the time was spent onset tormenting Radek, many hours were spent holed up in Rodney’s trailer (”…how did you wrangle that, McKay?”… “I think it was mostly to shut me up”… ) going through John’s notes for the score and arguing over the important things in life; Sci-Fi, Batman and fairgrounds.
“Do you think she’s awful? She is, isn’t she?”
“…Quiet, McKay, Zelenka is glaring again.”
Rodney lowered his voice to a whisper; at least, what he considered to be a whisper.
“She is, isn’t she? Oh God, this film is going to bomb and they’ll blame the source material - they always do - and I’ll have to become a.. a… teacher or, God like Kavanagh and then I’ll have to kill myself and, and… ow! What did you do that for!”
“Because if he did not, Rodney, I would throw this camera at you. Please, be quiet or get out - preferably of Canada - for the duration of this film. If I need you, I will call you. And you, stop encouraging him! Why did I agree to this, this madness!”
Radek stormed off in the opposite direction, turning to glare as the sound of muffled laughter drifted from where John and Rodney were sitting.
“Sorry, sorry. C’mon Rodney, I’ve seen enough bad directing for one week.”
John grabbed Rodney’s bicep, hauling him towards the door as Zelenka spun round manically.
“What do you say we go grab some dinner?”
Rodney stopped in the doorway, eyes curious.
“Like a date, dinner? Or just dinner? Actually, forget I said the first bit. God, that’s embarrassing. I..”
“Yes, Rodney, like a date.”
John looked nervous; arm up behind his head in that way he did when he was unsure (”I don’t know, Rodney, I’ve never used the word mitosis as a lyric before”… “it’s fine John, honestly, it works” … “yeah? Well, ok then…”), eyes intently focused on his military boots (why do you insist on wearing those?” … “I guess I just got used to them” ), feet scuffing the floor.
“Oh, well then. Why didn’t you say something? I know this nice little place just round the corner. Great Italian food and they have no citrus. I’m deathly allergic to citrus, you know that right? And bees. And stupid people, and…”
John watched Rodney walk out of the door, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. When Elizabeth had told him she thought he and Rodney would make a great team (”like Batman and Robin?”… “no John, be serious please”…) he somehow doubted she meant it like this.
He’d have to send her a fruit basket.
**
Poll Vote for this story
Author: fractalreality
Team: Away
Prompt: Chapter and verse
Pairing(s): McKay/Sheppard
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Summary: "Quiet on the set!" was something Rodney never quite grasped as a concept…
Authors notes: Not exactly what I meant to write for my first foray into SGA fic, but the original idea would not gel and so this appeared. The prompt interpretation is perhaps more literal than most would've expected, but hopefully the story is still enjoyable! One day, I *will* write my Shakespearean Quantum Leap crack adventure... Many thanks to littlekitsch, iceandlime, and_i and the guys of mcshep_away for the hand holding and encouragement.
Once you've read the story, please take a moment to vote in the poll below. Ratings go from 1 (low) to 9 (high), so all you need to do is enter a single number in that range into each text entry box. You'll be able to see the Prompt and Team (Genre) information in the header above.
More details about the voting procedure can be found here.
**
”CUT!”
"You! Yes you, in the leather. How many times have I got to tell you, she wasn't written to be a one-dimensional blonde bimbo! Ok, yes, she's hot - why wouldn't she be, after all she can't resist the brilliance of m… the lead character, but at least try to *sound* intelligent - that's what they pay you for, right? To ACT? Honestly, I don't know why I even..."
"RODNEY!"
"...yes?"
"You are not director, yes? You do not even need to be here - I wish you were not. Please, go away now. I would like to do my job - that is directing, if you had not noticed."
Radek Zelenka sighed, watching as once again his very volatile, very expensive lead actress stormed off-set because of one Rodney McKay, international best-selling author and all-round pain in the ass.
****************
"Right, yes, well... of *course* I’m going to be concerned when some imbecile takes my carefully constructed dialogue and fucks it up. It's only my entire reputation on the line, God knows Kavanagh is already having a field day with his reviews and..."
Rodney stopped mid-rant, eyes wide as a man in black materialised directly in front of him, shrouded in shadow and saying nothing.
"What are you doing, lurking back here - trying to give me a heart attack? Seriously. Do you even work here?"
The man scratched his head sheepishly. “Yeah, I…”
"Never mind. Are you busy right now? Do something useful, go get me some coffee, I have dialogue to re-write."
************************
10 minutes later, coffee in hand and introductions made (“I’m McKay. Rodney McKay” … “Yeah, I know. I’m John”), Rodney put his pen down on the table in the food tent and sighed.
“So, aren’t you a bit old to be a teaboy?”
“I never said I was the teaboy.”
“Then why did you bring me coffee?”
“Well, you asked - it seemed rude not to indulge the guy who’s basically paying my wages,” John smirked, taking the last biscuit from the plate in front of Rodney.
“Yeah? So what do you do? Camera man? No, you’re too scrawny for that. Editor? No, wait, that’s Lorne. You aren’t an actor are you? Because I wrote no part for a crazy haired teaboy… that’s it! You’re a rejected actor here to seek revenge on Radek for not casting you!”
Rodney grinned smugly before leaning in towards John and whispering dramatically, “His trailer’s the one next to the car park.”
John laughed; a horrible, donkey-like braying sound that made Rodney jump back in his seat, horrified.
“Ok, so never do that again.”
John looked down at the table, the tops of his ears (pointy, Rodney thought) turning red as he mumbled an apology.
“I’m, ah, I’m your sound man. Well…”
“Shouldn’t you be on set?! It’s bad enough that Miss Peroxide in there is ruining my life, I don’t see any reason why you should join in…”
“McKay?”
“Hmm?”
“Shut up and drink your coffee.”
John smiled fondly as Rodney drank without question, watching with amusement as the inner battle of whether to talk or listen passed across his face. John decided to save him the hassle.
“By sound man, McKay, I mean I’m your music man. Composer, lyricist, whatever. John Sheppard, nice to meet you.”
He held out his hand, flinching almost imperceptibly at the look of recognition on Rodney’s face.
“Shep? As in, Shep the guy who supposedly ruined Maybourne’s big summer blockbuster?”
Yeah,” John replied tightly. “That’s me.”
He made to get up, stopped only by Rodney’s “Good.”
“Sorry?”
I’m glad you stood up to Maybourne; God I hate him. Did you know he wanted to take my novel and turn it into trash? I’ve heard you score… oh don’t look at me like that, have you heard of the internet?... it’s much better than what they went with. More…”
“Real? Yeah.”
John settled into his chair, ready to field the inevitable ‘why’ that he could see dancing behind Rodney’s eyes.
“I was in the military. Briefly. Maybourne wanted some dramatic and heroic bull, something to glorify what was already … not to my taste, shall we say. So, I hung around on set, watched peoples’ reactions, read the script, and gave them the score.”
John grinned tightly.
“Of course, it wasn’t what they wanted - who wants to show the military in all its glory? So, they hired someone else, went over budget and saw to it I’d be ‘blacklisted’… nice guy.”
Rodney stared at him, but not with the usual disdain John could almost always sense in others.
“So, why are you here then? If you’re the bane of the film industry.”
“Elizabeth. She feels kinda bad about getting me the other gig, so I think she thinks she owes me one. Radek and the other Atlantis crew guys are pretty accommodating too to the way I work and… I like them, y’know?”
“Why do you think I’m letting them make my film? Radek isn’t a complete moron and listens... mostly… when I tell him he’s wrong.”
John smirked, getting up from his seat and looking over his shoulder at Rodney.
“You coming back onto set? Some of us have work to do…”
“I… uh… Radek banished me.”
Chuckling, John walked back and hauled Rodney from his chair.
“C’mon, we’ll take him some coffee and say that we are discussing very important things.”
“…whilst checking out the cast?”
“You got it, buddy.”
*****************
For the remainder of the week, the pair were inseparable. Although most of the time was spent onset tormenting Radek, many hours were spent holed up in Rodney’s trailer (”…how did you wrangle that, McKay?”… “I think it was mostly to shut me up”… ) going through John’s notes for the score and arguing over the important things in life; Sci-Fi, Batman and fairgrounds.
“Do you think she’s awful? She is, isn’t she?”
“…Quiet, McKay, Zelenka is glaring again.”
Rodney lowered his voice to a whisper; at least, what he considered to be a whisper.
“She is, isn’t she? Oh God, this film is going to bomb and they’ll blame the source material - they always do - and I’ll have to become a.. a… teacher or, God like Kavanagh and then I’ll have to kill myself and, and… ow! What did you do that for!”
“Because if he did not, Rodney, I would throw this camera at you. Please, be quiet or get out - preferably of Canada - for the duration of this film. If I need you, I will call you. And you, stop encouraging him! Why did I agree to this, this madness!”
Radek stormed off in the opposite direction, turning to glare as the sound of muffled laughter drifted from where John and Rodney were sitting.
“Sorry, sorry. C’mon Rodney, I’ve seen enough bad directing for one week.”
John grabbed Rodney’s bicep, hauling him towards the door as Zelenka spun round manically.
“What do you say we go grab some dinner?”
Rodney stopped in the doorway, eyes curious.
“Like a date, dinner? Or just dinner? Actually, forget I said the first bit. God, that’s embarrassing. I..”
“Yes, Rodney, like a date.”
John looked nervous; arm up behind his head in that way he did when he was unsure (”I don’t know, Rodney, I’ve never used the word mitosis as a lyric before”… “it’s fine John, honestly, it works” … “yeah? Well, ok then…”), eyes intently focused on his military boots (why do you insist on wearing those?” … “I guess I just got used to them” ), feet scuffing the floor.
“Oh, well then. Why didn’t you say something? I know this nice little place just round the corner. Great Italian food and they have no citrus. I’m deathly allergic to citrus, you know that right? And bees. And stupid people, and…”
John watched Rodney walk out of the door, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. When Elizabeth had told him she thought he and Rodney would make a great team (”like Batman and Robin?”… “no John, be serious please”…) he somehow doubted she meant it like this.
He’d have to send her a fruit basket.
**
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