Preview: Children of Lantean Design
Title: Children of Lantean Design
Author: xela_fic
Prompt: Encounters with Alternate Universes
Parings: McShep (with Ronon/Keller and Lorne/Parrish)
Words: 93,700
WARNING. This fic contains...
“You want me to WHAT?”
Elizabeth sighed. “Calm down, Rodney. They're not going to bite you.”
“Are you insane? They're CHILDREN. Of course they bite!” John rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair, effectively zoning out of the conversation. He'd said his part, done his token Rodney-calming already; this was Elizabeth's deal now.
“The labs are one thing, I can give them all to the botanists where they can't do any harm but you want me to SOCIALIZE with them? During my free time?!”
“What free time?” John muttered under his breath.
“Dr. Weir's suggestion makes sense, Rodney,” Teyla admonished. “Especially considering Philipp's episode. We have agreed that they will stay with us, and this will help ease their minds on that front. We also need to ascertain their skills and abilities in order to determine their place in Atlantis.”
“Why me? I hate kids!”
“They're twenty, Rodney, I don't think they count as 'kids' anymore,” John muttered.
“It's not just you, Rodney,” Elizabeth pointed out. “I want you all to get to know the older...young adults.”
“It still begs the question WHY ME?” Rodney demanded, crossing his arms and scowling.
“Sheppard can tell if they're a threat, you can tell if they're smart, Teyla can help 'em make friends,” Ronon said.
“Well...yes, there is that,” Weir said. “But I want you to get to know them, as well. Mentor them, give them someone to talk to if they need it.” Rodney snorted derisively, and John tried to conjure up the image of Rodney being someone's mentor.
“You want me to mentor some snot-nosed Next Gen who assumes Tsiolkovsky is a depressed Russian author!”
“Next Gen?” Elizabeth asked, the hint of a smile lurking about her lips.
“It's a Star Trek reference,” John pointed out helpfully.
“Yes, thank you Captain Kirk,” Rodney snapped.
----
“Do we have to?” Rodney whined, eyeballing their intended table.
“Yes, Rodney, we do.” Teyla's voice was filled with steel and promised many a painful stick sessions should he not be on his best behavior. “We have been given this responsibility by Elizabeth.”
“But...why not tomorrow? Tomorrow would be perfect, it's supposed to be sunny out.”
“It is sunny now,” Teyla said stubbornly. John nudged him forward.
“It'll be fine,” he whispered, and Rodney could feel John's breath skate along his neck. “If you're really good--” Rodney closed his eyes, his overactive brain flitting through a thousand different scenarios--“I'll give you my dessert.”
“Yeah, um OK.” Teyla pursed her lips, unconvinced by his sudden change of heart, but Rodney just shrugged and allowed her to lead him towards the table.
Rodney is dressed like a sheikh. A patterned headpiece matches a beautiful blue robe that opens at the waist and shows off Rodney's muscular, linen-encased legs. Rodney's barefoot and has a sword. Rodney has an actual sword. It's unbelievably hot, even though Rodney's currently taking in his attire and scowling.
“Rodney,” John breathes out and forgets how to think when those blue eyes pin him in place.
Rodney's eyes roam John's body, taking in every detail and storing it away for future use. John is...and that outfit is...and he is...
“I would make you a harem girl,” is what comes out of Rodney's mouth.
"Oh my God, you're a light switch!” Rodney crowed ecstatically, free of the hauntingly beautiful images. Rodney grabbed the girl by the arm and dragged her to the stool, victory rising up in his breast; after years of asking, he had his very own naturally-expressed ATA gene light switch! “You. Sit there. I'm requisitioning you for Science Department use. Elizabeth gave you to us, so I don't have to share you with any of the other departments, you're MINE, no one else gets you, they can go recruit their own rug rats to use because I have my own. Go through these--” he plunked an overflowing box on the desk in front of her “--and tell me what they do. You survived two years on your own and grew up around Ancient technology, I'm trusting you to not blow us up or turn anyone into a cat. This is actually more than my accredited scientists can be trusted to do, and they have PhD's, but I still hold out hope because otherwise I'd get less sleep than I already do now. Go, do the work that's beneath me.”
“I don't think the Ancients had cats,” Alex felt compelled to point out.
“Sit down and earn the air you're breathing.” Rodney was pleased to see his light switch shrug and get to work.
...Along with some PTSD, angst, heartache, meddling kids, obliviousness, Pegasus intrigue, IOA annoyances and a guest appearance by General O'Neill himself.
Author: xela_fic
Prompt: Encounters with Alternate Universes
Parings: McShep (with Ronon/Keller and Lorne/Parrish)
Words: 93,700
WARNING. This fic contains...
“You want me to WHAT?”
Elizabeth sighed. “Calm down, Rodney. They're not going to bite you.”
“Are you insane? They're CHILDREN. Of course they bite!” John rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair, effectively zoning out of the conversation. He'd said his part, done his token Rodney-calming already; this was Elizabeth's deal now.
“The labs are one thing, I can give them all to the botanists where they can't do any harm but you want me to SOCIALIZE with them? During my free time?!”
“What free time?” John muttered under his breath.
“Dr. Weir's suggestion makes sense, Rodney,” Teyla admonished. “Especially considering Philipp's episode. We have agreed that they will stay with us, and this will help ease their minds on that front. We also need to ascertain their skills and abilities in order to determine their place in Atlantis.”
“Why me? I hate kids!”
“They're twenty, Rodney, I don't think they count as 'kids' anymore,” John muttered.
“It's not just you, Rodney,” Elizabeth pointed out. “I want you all to get to know the older...young adults.”
“It still begs the question WHY ME?” Rodney demanded, crossing his arms and scowling.
“Sheppard can tell if they're a threat, you can tell if they're smart, Teyla can help 'em make friends,” Ronon said.
“Well...yes, there is that,” Weir said. “But I want you to get to know them, as well. Mentor them, give them someone to talk to if they need it.” Rodney snorted derisively, and John tried to conjure up the image of Rodney being someone's mentor.
“You want me to mentor some snot-nosed Next Gen who assumes Tsiolkovsky is a depressed Russian author!”
“Next Gen?” Elizabeth asked, the hint of a smile lurking about her lips.
“It's a Star Trek reference,” John pointed out helpfully.
“Yes, thank you Captain Kirk,” Rodney snapped.
----
“Do we have to?” Rodney whined, eyeballing their intended table.
“Yes, Rodney, we do.” Teyla's voice was filled with steel and promised many a painful stick sessions should he not be on his best behavior. “We have been given this responsibility by Elizabeth.”
“But...why not tomorrow? Tomorrow would be perfect, it's supposed to be sunny out.”
“It is sunny now,” Teyla said stubbornly. John nudged him forward.
“It'll be fine,” he whispered, and Rodney could feel John's breath skate along his neck. “If you're really good--” Rodney closed his eyes, his overactive brain flitting through a thousand different scenarios--“I'll give you my dessert.”
“Yeah, um OK.” Teyla pursed her lips, unconvinced by his sudden change of heart, but Rodney just shrugged and allowed her to lead him towards the table.
Rodney is dressed like a sheikh. A patterned headpiece matches a beautiful blue robe that opens at the waist and shows off Rodney's muscular, linen-encased legs. Rodney's barefoot and has a sword. Rodney has an actual sword. It's unbelievably hot, even though Rodney's currently taking in his attire and scowling.
“Rodney,” John breathes out and forgets how to think when those blue eyes pin him in place.
Rodney's eyes roam John's body, taking in every detail and storing it away for future use. John is...and that outfit is...and he is...
“I would make you a harem girl,” is what comes out of Rodney's mouth.
"Oh my God, you're a light switch!” Rodney crowed ecstatically, free of the hauntingly beautiful images. Rodney grabbed the girl by the arm and dragged her to the stool, victory rising up in his breast; after years of asking, he had his very own naturally-expressed ATA gene light switch! “You. Sit there. I'm requisitioning you for Science Department use. Elizabeth gave you to us, so I don't have to share you with any of the other departments, you're MINE, no one else gets you, they can go recruit their own rug rats to use because I have my own. Go through these--” he plunked an overflowing box on the desk in front of her “--and tell me what they do. You survived two years on your own and grew up around Ancient technology, I'm trusting you to not blow us up or turn anyone into a cat. This is actually more than my accredited scientists can be trusted to do, and they have PhD's, but I still hold out hope because otherwise I'd get less sleep than I already do now. Go, do the work that's beneath me.”
“I don't think the Ancients had cats,” Alex felt compelled to point out.
“Sit down and earn the air you're breathing.” Rodney was pleased to see his light switch shrug and get to work.
...Along with some PTSD, angst, heartache, meddling kids, obliviousness, Pegasus intrigue, IOA annoyances and a guest appearance by General O'Neill himself.