Five pranks that Young pretended not to know about
Title: Five pranks that Young pretended not to know about
Author: Shenandoah Risu
Rating: PG-13
Content Flags: gross stuff and a long swear word
Spoilers: none
Characters: Riley, Young, the Destiny folks
Word Count: around 715
Summary: Thus begins a series of eyerolls and headshakes for the colonel as Riley gets his CO’s clandestine approval.
Author's Notes: Written for sg1_five_things, prompt set #120.
Disclaimer: I don't own SGU. I wouldn't know what to do with it. Now, Young... Young I'd know what to do with. ;-)
Thanks for reading! Feedback = Love. ;-) Please leave comments here at my LJ.
*
Five pranks that Young pretended not to know about
“Look, Riley, I know you’re the resident prankster here, and hell knows we don’t have a lot to laugh about, but could you at least run your twisted ideas by me first?”
Riley has the good grace to look utterly contrite, and Young’s heart melts.
“Yes, Sir.”
“No more spying on the ladies in their quarters.”
“No, Sir.”
“All right, then. Dismissed.”
And thus begins a series of eyerolls and headshakes for the colonel as Riley gets his CO’s clandestine approval.
*
Riley holds the creature up by the tail, with thumb and index finger.
“You found a mouse on the ship?”
“No, Sir. I made it.”
Young puts his reading glasses back on and steps closer.
“You made it?”
“Becker’s been cutting hair again - I swiped some. And the tail is a root from a Purple Sweet Potato.”
Young has to admit he was fooled there, for a moment.
And when he hears Volker’s bloodcurdling scream later on he knows exactly what the hapless astrophysicist thought he saw there near his workstation.
*
Young waves Riley in and the young man places a glass containing a dark red liquid before him.
“Lovely. Blood. How?”
“Little bit of the powder Brody uses for the still, some root oil for the proper viscosity, and berry juice.”
“Stay away from Dunning, please.”
“Yes, Sir.”
The next day Young sees Riley lying in a puddle of blood near the bathrooms. He sighs and steps over him, waiting for the inevitable commotion as he listens to the radio chatter about “horrible injuries”. And he chuckles when he hears both TJ and Lisa Park give the prankster a trip to the woodshed.
*
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Young mutters as he surveys the giant splat of vomit outside of his room.
“Awesome, isn’t it?” comes Riley’s voice from around a corner.
“Terrific,” Young mouths, averting his gaze.
“Dyed wood chips, machine oil, a paperclip and silly putty.”
Young stares at him.
“Where’d you find the silly putty?”
Riley looks smug.
“Glue and starch. Old science project recipe.” He kneels down and rolls up the disgusting blob.
Young shakes his head.
At the staff meeting that afternoon Airman Dunning begs everyone to please clean up their own barf, as he’s had to clean up the still room twice already. Everyone looks around for the perpetrators. Riley just cranes his neck as well and Young quickly makes a few notes on his clip board.
*
“It even has fangs!”
Young shudders at the sight of the big hairy spider sitting on Riley’s sleeve.
“Fingernail clippings,” Riley nods proudly. “And Greer’s latest haircut.”
“Ugh. So, is there anyone on this ship who isn’t arachnophobic?”
“Dr. Rush isn’t. Well - he might be by the end of the day,” Riley snickers, then hands Young a freshly charged battery for his radio.
“Keep it on channel 2. Sir.” And off he goes.
Young has almost forgotten about the nasty critter, when during dinner his radio erupts in loud yells and screams and a high-pitched string of what are undoubtedly Scottish obscenities, and something like “cuntybuggeryfucktoleybumshite”. As everyone crowds around the radio Young pretends to run off towards the Bridge to help. He has to admit, it was quite priceless.
*
“It’s a turd, Sir,” Riley supplies helpfully as Young recoils from the proffered lump in Riley’s hand.
“I can see that,” Young mutters. “Let me guess: Purple Sweet Potato leftovers?”
“Skins and mashed bad parts,” Riley confirms.
“Nowhere near the mess or the infirmary.”
“Of course not, Sir. Have a nice evening.”
The next morning as they drop out of FTL they all gather on the observation deck to marvel at a colorful nebula.
“What the -“ Scott starts, and then the crowd parts as if Moses had held out a stick over them. Everyone stares at the little pile on the ledge right in front of the window.
“I got it, guys,” comes Riley’s voice as he approaches with a rag and deftly picks up the squishy mound.
“Farm boys,” Brody whispers with deep respect. “There’s nothing that fazes them.”
Riley is the hero of the day.
And Young can’t help but smile when nobody’s looking.