Geek Knight versus the Black Dragon 2/2 (SGA)
Title: Geek Knight versus the Black Dragon 2/2
Author: tari_roo
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: I don’t these characters, and I don’t claim to. Nor do I make any profit from them. But if I did own them, the budget for the show would have been bigger, certain people wouldn’t have died. And most importantly, it’d still be on.
Summary: The tale of Sir Rodney who went Dragon Hunting. Alternative title: Shep the Dragon has a bad day
Warning: Do you need to warn for crack? If so - crack ahead. But also some delicious h/c
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Rodney woke up. This was instantly far more than he had ever expected. And short of finding the Soul Reaper leaning over him to take his soul to the Afterlife, Rodney was checking that up to a miracle. Miracle two, he didn’t hurt - wasn’t impaled, bleeding or broken.
“Rodney!”
Teyla, not the Soul Reaper, appeared above him, her wide expressive face full of suppressed despair and desperate hope. “Rodney.” She smiled, and McKay smiled back, her relief so transparent even though there was a net and length of black wing between them.
Rodney’s smile faded and he snarled, “I am going to kill him! He shot, he actually shot me!”
“Shot the Dragon, not you,” Ronon’s rumble preceded his smug face, long hair dangling down through the net. Rodney moved, wanting to wave a fist or something, and downgraded unhurt to ‘ouch’ but snarled anyway, “I was in the air! You shot me too!”
Ronon’s grin was unrepentant. “You’re alive,” he said, as if that made everything alright.
The steam hiss of one of the Mechanicals interrupted the moment and Carson and his Mechanical swung into view. “Great Galloping Gallants, Rodney. You’re alive. You moron!”
Rodney added Carson to his shit list.
Getting him out of the net and claw was a hell of a lot easier said than done. The Dragon was unconscious, but alive as confirmed by Radek, who hid behind his Mechanical while he checked. While Evan and Ronon helped Rodney up and out of the net, trying not to cut himself on the razor sharp claws, Teyla directed Carson and Radek in restraining the dragon.
By the time Rodney had his feet on good ole mother Earth, which he fully planned on never leaving again, Teyla and her dragon wrapping team were almost done.
The net had hit the Dragon’s wings more than anything its body, and now that Rodney was out, the two remaining Mechanicals were slowly turning the dragon, straightening out the wings as best they could beneath the net. Rear legs were good and caught in the net. But its forelegs were now neatly tied together and there was a thick muzzle of ropes around those fearsome jaws.
“Better tie its tail to the net or something,” Evan called out from his perch on the dragon’s back, looking like a boy sitting on a giant horse. The dragon was massive. Its head alone was six foot plus, the rest of it stretching out in full length another thirty, forty feet. Curled up now it was hard to believe the impressive wingspan it had, but McKay was intimately familiar with how big those wings were. Rodney had felt like a mouse in its claws and as those terrifying recent memories assailed him, McKay felt a little faint. Terror aside though, as Rodney looked at his prize, he couldn’t but help admire the sleek lethal beauty of the beast.
Glistening black scales than shone green and blue in the sun. Sleek, refined head topped with a collection of spikes. Pearl white claws and teeth that shone with opalescent beauty in the sunlight. And green, green eyes. That heart stopping instant when it had exploded out of the cave, a roar of flame, a giant night born terror that filled you with such awe and fear, played over and over in his brain. Piercing green eyes that burned through your soul, promising death and destruction.
Now it was curled up like a cat, netted and caught. It looked both smaller and bigger.
As everyone finished, and stepped back, Evan leaping off the dragon, Rodney expected to feel a swell of pride, joy even at a job well done. A job no one had expected them, him, to succeed in. Instead though, as he gazed upon the trussed up Dragon, powerful magnificence restrained by tight ropes, a wave of sadness brushed his mind. Teyla joined him, and she seemed to share a similar feeling of bittersweet victory.
“Well, Rodney. You succeeded.”
“Yes. I did. Wish it felt better.”
“Indeed.”
Rodney wondered if he would feel the same if the Dragon had not so deliberately saved his life. It could have dropped him, flamed him, heck, even eaten him in one fell swoop, but instead, it cradled him to its chest, like his life was precious.
Carson brought his Mechanical to a stop nearby, Radek doing the same. Ronon and Sir Evan joined them and together the victorious Dragon Hunters stood and took it all in.
Sir Evan ruined the moment by pulling out his sketch pad to no doubt capture the scene for the Court. Ronon followed suit, drawing out a note book from his voluminous robes, probably to make notes on the success of the meldo-sweet. Rodney drew one of Teyla’s bantos robes and raised it to strike Ronon, suddenly furious. “You shot...”
Teyla swiftly retrieved the rod, whirling Rodney around in the process. Ronon, the smug bastard, didn’t even move minutely out of the way. Carson sighed and said, “Well, lad. We’ve got your dragon. And we best be heading back. Did you have any idea about getting this great beast home?”
Rodney paused, brain misfiring. It was as sure a sign as any that not even he had truly believed they’d get to this point - one captured Dragon. How to get it home indeed? Radek snorted and ruffled his fly away hair.
“Well, I have proposal. If Carson is up to opening a portal without a Way Point, I’ll construct a weightless platform. The mechanicals should then be able to drag the dragon on it, yes?”
From behind them, Sir Evan grumbled, “I thought Dragon’s were immune to magic. Hence all the panic and running around like headless chickens.”
Happily back on familiar ground - fixing a problem, Rodney guffawed, “They are immune to magic directed at them. But Radek is right - put it on a weightless platform and it’ll weigh nothing at all. Likewise it will go through a portal.”
“Or not, and we’ll only be back in Atlantis in time to greet the Asurans,” Ronon said.
“I’m still pissed at you, so shut up!”
Teyla nodded, and clapped her hands. “Alright then. Let’s get moving. The sooner we are back in Atlantis, the sooner we can persuade Princess Samantha to use Rodney’s designs.”
There were nods all around and Rodney hurried to get Aggy and Snail ready. Snail would do most of the work, because even though the platform would make moving the Dragon easier, it would not in fact be weightless.
Pausing once again to view his prize and try and capture some sense of triumph, Rodney ran a thoughtful eye over the Dragon. It was a worthy prize indeed. Belatedly he realised the Dragon was awake and watching him back, one green eye focused on him. It looked hurt, wounded, and the ropes on its muzzle emphasised its helpless position. Rodney turned away, consumed with guilt.
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Any other day, Shep would be intrigued about the prospect of going through a Portal. Dragons didn’t need portals, and it was obvious why. With wings and the magic of flight, who needed a glowy blue portal. In any event, most mages would run from a Dragon asking to ‘try that portal’ thing. So yes, any other day.
But not today.
Today the burn of the Dragon’s Bane was driving any momentary pleasure of an unusual experience into the distance recourses of his mind. The net and ropes were covered in the plant, and Shep was concentrating on breathing, just breathing in and out. The ropes on his jaws were the worst, so close to his nostrils and tongue, the scent of the plant enough to set fire to his nerves. The world was an indistinct blur, colours bleeding into each other.
The humans, six of them, less than he’d thought, appeared and disappeared like smoke. Hands touching him one moment, gone the next. Voices in his ears, so close to comprehension, and then garbled and broken. Shep desperately wanted to cough, to expunge the smoke from his lungs. His body was refusing to absorb the smoke, unlike it did with other types of fumes and smoke. Instead, Shep could feel it sitting in his lungs, restricting the amount of air he inhaled. Dragon’s were big creatures, they needed very iota of air their lungs could absorb, especially in flight. Every dragon knew this. Knew exactly why Dragon’s Bane was so deadly.
The lack of oxygen would slowly poison him, his extremities starving and dying first, everything slowing down, stagnating without the required volume of fresh oxygen. Expelling dragon’s bane was painful but possible. Its touch burned, but could be endured. Just as long as it didn’t get into the blood stream and choke the oxygen in the blood itself, a dragon could survive being exposed to the foul noxious plant.
Shep couldn’t even breathe deep enough to whimper. The ropes were tight, too tight, and burned so that it felt like his scales were on fire, the nerves alight with agony. His second and third hearts were already slowly down too much, the triple beat that was supposed to keep a steady rhythm running, faltering.
“Ok, ready. Pull.”
Inexorably something pulled on the ropes around his feet and Shep moved forward, the soft dust and sand beneath him resisting, but then releasing him without much of a struggle. The strain on his legs was sharp, biting, as the rope cut into his scales, which were tender and raw from the Bane. The wound on his rear leg flared anew, a banked fire glowing sharp yellow and white with pain. Opening a baleful eye, Shep watched the Mechanicals work, a strange giant snail steaming as it pulled him towards a flat platform
As they slid him onto the platform, the dull, numbing sensation of magic was initially soothing against the fever that burned within his scales. Cold, impersonal hands moved his neck and legs into place. The absence of movement brought a resurgence of Bane induced pain, and Shep closed his eyes, willing his lungs to expand, the burn to disappear. The numbness of the magic faded in the surge of heat, as his body fought the poison in vain.
Shep stirred as he heard soft footsteps, the muted sound of metal on metal coming close to him. A knight. Maybe come to end his misery. Tiny, delicate hands pressed themselves onto the soft skin between his eye and the nearest rope, the long line of his snout buried beneath the hemp. Opening his eye just a slit, the world was reduced to thin piece of blue sky and the shadowy silhouette of the human. Shep huffed is dismay, recognising the armour. A Knight of Athos.
“I think we are hurting him, Rodney.”
“Teyla! Are you insane! Get away from it.”
‘Teyla’ leant closer to Shep, unmindful or uncaring of the apparent danger, and ran her hand over his face, tracking the sluggish movement of his eye. Shep fought the urge to whine, plead, but he couldn’t stop the dry keen rising from his throat, the need for air and relief overwhelming his pride. Much heavier footsteps heralded the arrival of another of his captors, a man - not a Knight. Scholar maybe.
Larger, rougher hands ran over his face tracing the same lines as the Knight, then down his neck. The man disappeared from sight, but Shep could feel him pressed against his chest, listening perhaps. The Knight remained at his head, her hands trying to soothe away the pain and hurt. It wasn’t working, no matter how wonderful it might have felt, had it been on a different day.
“It seems to be struggling to breathe.” The Scholar appeared inside Shep’s eyeline, his face creased with worry.
“What? Now you’re an expert dragon handler? Come on!” a distant, unseen, but familiar voice squeaked.
“Hush, Rodney. What do you think, Ronon?”
Ronon shrugged, “Perhaps it was injured in the fall.”
“Or the meldo-sweet still affects him. It’s called Dragon’s Bane for a reason,” Teyla mused, and Shep just wished they’d make a decision. Kill him or leave him to die slowly. He tried to ‘will’ some sense into the pair, pour as much emotion out of one eye as possible. Dragons weren’t able to cry, so it was a little hard to garner some sympathy, especially with the pounding ache inside him.
“We can be in Atlantis in a couple of hours, perhaps it can wait till then.”Ronon did not seem certain of his own words and Teyla certainly did not. Her frown was deep, and she had not stopped touching him. “I...”
“Come on! We have to go. Before nightfall!”
Teyla whipped her head around, and yelled at the unseen Rodney. “Do you want him to die, Sir Rodney McKay? A prisoner in your care?”
The grumbling was indistinct, but Sir Rodney McKay shut up.
Shep had run out of time though. The desperate urge, need, to expel the Dragon’s Bane could no longer be denied, even if it meant choking on his own vomit. Abruptly, he thrashed, pulling on the ropes the Mechanicals still held, the keen in his throat rising to a painful whine. Shep strained to open his jaws, to break free, just so he could damn well breathe. The ropes twanged in protest but held, the ones around his jaws unmoving. His throat convulsed, the rising bile choking him no matter what Shep tried.
“Shit, shit, shit! What did you do?” Invisible Rodney wailed.
The glint of an open blade, bright and fierce in the sun flashed and Shep prayed it was going to end his life, because he couldn’t die like this. The blade fell, and rather than bite into his skin, it severed the ropes on his snout. As they fell away, instantly, urgently Shep twisted forward, mouth open and vomited out the foul mess.
Most of the Bane had turned to sludge inside his lungs and it came out fairly easily as he coughed and gagged. The residual smoke though was harder to expunge and Shep hacked and choked for a good long while trying to get it all out. More than just the Bane was hurled up, the movement in his lungs triggering his stomachs and soon the remains of the five sheep joined the mess in the dirt.
After far too long, the urge passed, his lungs finally clear and Shep collapsed back onto the platform, utterly spent. He felt more drained than after a long hard battle, hell, even after a good mating. The stench of the vomit rose in a waft of desert air, and Shep wrinkled his snout in distaste. “That’s disgusting. Sheesh!”
Rodney McKay, Shep decided was a whiny little coward. And just as soon as he had breath, he was going to tell him that. Well, after also having something to drink to get the taste of Bane out of his mouth. “Better?”
Knight Teyla was leaning over him, hands once again on his face, unperturbed by the nearness of his teeth. “Yes, thank you.”
His voice was rough from smoke and a raw throat, the rumble from his chest drawing everyone elses’ attention. There was another squeak from McKay, and Ronon moved closer, strangely vigilant for a scholar. In the silence of the desert late afternoon, Sir Teyla met his gaze, eye to eye. “My people have stories of the honour of Dragons. Give me your word, Dragon and I will give you mine.”
Shep blinked. Continuing to fight was beyond him at this point, the net and ropes of Bane still sapping his strength, not to mention the lingering malaise within his chest. And the old injury. Sighing, Shep licked his lips, grimacing at the aftertaste, pink tongue darting over pearl. “I behave, you don’t muzzle me.”
“Yes,” Teyla nodded. “Our cause is urgent and your presence vital. I am certain we can negotiate later on your release.”
Shep wanted to add, ‘And my retribution’ but felt it was not the best time to be threatening anyone, let alone an Athosian Knight.
“Agreed.”
She looked at him with the seriousness only an Athosian could summon. “On your honour. You will not try to escape until we reach Atlantis.”
Shep nodded, “On your honour. You will not muzzle me, or try to kill me.”
Teyla nodded. “Agreed.”
“Agreed.”
Content, Teyla turned to her comrades and said, “You can open the Portal now, Carson.”
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Rodney rode at the head of their caravan, eyes front, a half smile on his lips. The shiny blue spires of Atlantis rose on the horizon, a beacon calling them home. News of their arrival preceded them, and for once Rodney was returning home in pride. Not potential disgrace, not pending disapproval.
In his heart of hearts, Rodney had not expected to return at all. If the Mechanicals had failed to defeat the dragon, Rodney would have slunk off to Tolan, or Asgard, someother realm where forward thinking was appreciated. If it had not been for Ronon and his obscure books and knowledge of a ‘mythical’ plant, Rodney would have failed. His unlikely friendship with Teyla, and by default, her friends, had once again saved him.
The journey back through the Portal had been slow, the Mechanicals sure and steady in towing the Dragon, who true to his word had remained silent and still throughout. Everyone knew Dragons could speak. Every child in the world did. Nonetheless McKay had been utterly floored to hear the deep rumble of words from his ‘prize’. Not a mindless beast. A thinking, reasoning, feeling being.
Yet this was necessary, vital as Teyla said. Atlantis’s safety rested on this - proving he was right, that his designs worked. Oberon would attack soon, Atlantis did not have much time.
As their party topped the last hill before the valley of Atlantis, an honour guard met them. Gold spears glinted in the setting sun, the Royal Horseguard fanning out and escorting them down the long winding silver road, giving the Dragon and Mechanicals a wide berth.
Teyla was riding close to the dragon, her tiger twitching and unnerved by the massive predator. Ronon and Evan joined Rodney at the front, their smiles broad and pleased. “Gotta say, McKay. Did not expect to be coming back like this.”
Rodney snorted and shot Evan a glare. “This fixes my problems, Evan. Not yours. You still have Chamberlain Woolsey to deal with. That portrait is uncanningly accurate.”
Ronon laughed as Evan coloured. Rodney smiled. It felt good to be coming home - with hope.
Princess Samantha met them at the main Gate of Stars, its towering doors dwarfing everyone but the Dragon. She looked resplendent in her gold matt armour, short blonde hair on fire in the setting sun. “Sir Rodney McKay. Well met. Welcome home. The Queen awaits.”
Puffing out his chest, sitting straighter on Aggy, uncaring that his armour was stained and dirty, Rodney kneed his horse forward and entered the city, a hero.
Curious crowds lined the streets, mostly silent. But as the massive Mechanicals strode past, Snail in the lead, towing the Dragon, a murmur of amazement echoed through the city. Sam led the growing parade towards the Star Palace, home of the Queen. The sky was painted in violent reds and purples, a swath of colour touching the city, bathing it in a glorious glow.
And its Queen stood waiting for them, as tall and as proud as her city.
Rodney dismounted with a clatter that his friends echoed as they joined him in a long bow to Queen Elizabeth. Looking up, Rodney was half afraid to find the usual disappointment on her face. But today, Elizabeth the Just was smiling.
“Well, Sir Rodney. I am impressed. You set out yesterday to capture a dragon and you have done so. Many within Atlantis would not have believed it.”
Rodney bowed low, again, for once lost for words.
“Sir Teyla, Sir Evan.”
At the Queen’s command, the Knights rose from their knees. Teyla’s voice was loud and clear in the palace courtyard. “We confirm and bear witness that Sir Rodney’s Mechanicals played a critical role in the capture.”
Elizabeth smiled and motioned for her second, Princess Samantha. “Samantha, my loyal General. Please set time aside to review these mechanical’s as agreed.”
The Princess nodded, short, sharp, clearly unhappy, but Rodney didn’t care. He was vindicated, cleared, king of the world. The Princess would have to spend time with him and his Mechanicals would be massed produced.
Life did not get much better than this.
So, in true McKay luck, things went pear shaped almost immediately.
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Shep was exhausted. Well and truly exhausted. The Bane had steadily sapped his strength over the long trip. Going through the Portal had been interesting, its icy bite and rapid passage quite the rush. But his amazement and enjoyment had been instantly tempered by his situation. He had no idea what the Atlanteans intended with him. Clearly they needed a dragon, for something. But what would it mean for him - personally, he had no idea.
Sir Teyla had ridden close to him the whole way, clearly wishing to talk. But Shep was not interested in making nice with his captors. The pace was slow and he often dozed off, lulled by the late sunshine and weariness eating into his bones.
Not even the sight of Atlantis, rising like the Wingsong Mountains in the distance stirred more than passing interest. His breathing was suppressed again, or becoming so, the continued close proximity of Bane steadily poisoning him. Shep felt Teyla’s worried gaze, but couldn’t even find the strength to milk her sympathy. So fortunately, Shep dozed through the spectacle of being paraded through the streets, the gawking crowds lost to nightmarish dreams of thick ropes choking him.
The clear sunshine of the sunset in the massive palace courtyard woke Shep. Through slitted eyes he watched the Little Cowardly Knight kneel to receive recognition for capturing him. Had he the strength, Shep would have snorted in derision.
As the human queen spoke, a familiar presence stirred Shep into greater awareness. Realising that it was not the sun, but this presence that had woken him initially, Shep cautiously scanned the skies, a curious, desperate hope blooming in his chest.
The gathered crowd was just beginning to cheer, a riotous noise of praise when a mighty dragon bugle spilt the air. Lifting his head, Shep answered the bugle with one of his own, not nearly as loud, but still cutting through the human noise. Instantly, a dark shadow blocked out the sun, and dropped like a rock towards the courtyard.
The crowd scattered, screaming, while the collected Knights and Royal guard scrambled for their weapons.
Cam landed with an unnecessarily massive clatter, knocking over statues with his tail, flattening one of the mechanicals, and conveniently blocking Shep, guarding him. Cam let out another ear splitting bugle, one that rattled the windows on the towers around the courtyard.
Shep couldn’t help the smile that broke across his face. Shit, he knew how to make an entrance. Cam glittered in the sunset, his gold bronze skin glowing with an inner light.
In the stunned silence of his arrival, and before the humans could gather themselves, Cam roared at the queen, “I am Catchell-meron, Cairn of the Great Notha Forest. I come to lay petition before Queen Elizabeth the Just of Altantis.”
To her credit, the queen stepped out from behind her guard, who all bristled at the motion. She straightened her crown and replied, loudly, “Catchell-meron, I will hear your petition.”
Cam roared again, this time letting out a little flame. “I speak for Jhepard-shon, Scion the Midnight Clan, who you have unfairly imprisoned and tortured. I demand his release, instantly!”
There was a murmur at the word torture, and the queen shot Rodney a look, but otherwise remained impassive. “By Jhepard-shon I assume you mean the black dragon my Knights caught terrorising our villages.”
Shep froze, neck snaking out to get a better look at the Queen. He was not the only one. Ronon, and the others in Rodney’s party were also staring at her. Since when was Khandahar a liege village of Equestria? Cam bellowed his disapproval. But it was then that Shep noticed who was missing in the gathered Knights. Or rather, who was sneaking towards him, under cover of the scattered statues. Sir Teyla.
He opened his mouth to warn Cam, but she raised a finger to her lips, asking for silence. Surprising himself, Shep obeyes, stilling his warning.
Cam roared, “Terrorising? Lies. Jhepard-shon was attacked, ambushed!”
Using Cam’s bulk, Teyla quickly slipped unseen onto the platform, her knife held at the ready. Shep eyed her warily, but her smile was sad and ashamed. “If I free you, can you fly?”
Shep nodded, carefully so not to draw attention and hissed, “Why?”
Teyla shrugged even as she started cutting the ropes on his forelegs. “I fear a darker purpose behind our quest. One I did not agree to. You do not deserve to be a prisoner for our convenience.”
Shep wasn’t going to argue with that and silently watched her cut through the ropes. A rising sense of urgency, freedom yapping at his heels filled Shep, chasing away the lethargy. There was the real problem however of flying. It was unlikely he’d take off without assistance.
The petition was not going well. Cam was getting more and more agitated, while the Queen remained unmoved, the Royal Guards edging closer and closer to the Dragons. The moment the last of the net fell away from Shep, he gave Teyla a grateful look and snarled in Ancient, “I’m free.”
Dropping all pretense, Cam growled back in the same tongue, “I gorged before landing. I have enough to spare.”
The humans were quick on the uptake, but not fast enough as Cam whirled, a bright red flame bursting out of his open mouth. The knights scattered, the guard knocking the queen to the ground for protection. Shep roared as he stood and reached out to Cam’s mind, drawing on his strength. The surge of borrowed energy filled him, stiffening his legs, widening his wings. With a united roar, Cam and Shep lept into the air, wings beating in concert, never colliding as they climbed. A volley of arrows pursued them, but struck only trailing claws and tail.
The burst of energy was already fading, and Shep felt his hold on the climb slipping. Sensing his distress, Cam closed the distance between them, fitting neatly beneath him, bolstering Shep. They left Atlantis behind, a cooling blue pearl in a dark valley as the sun disappeared and headed towards the Grey Forest. It would offer the greatest cover for them, as Shep was unable to fly for long.
His faltering wing beats were interfering with Cam’s own flight and his friend yelled, “Just a little longer, Shep. Almost there.”
As the forest spread out below them, Shep spotted Cam’s goal. A still, mirror smooth lake in the middle of the forest. Shep dug deep, pushing his muscles and wing tendons to their limits, trying to maintain any semblance of altitude.
In the end, Cam practically glided them both in, their joined landing awkward and rushed. The icy water was an instant relief as Shep plunged in, wings furled to keep from tangling with Cam. Once in the water, a maze of ripples racing away from them, Shep floated forwards with the momentum and then started to sink.
Cam had to help him towards the shore, his legs useless no matter how much he tried to help. It felt good though, the swim, washing away the lingering burns of the Bane, soothing his scales. Once they reached the shore, Shep lay still, gasping on the wet grass. Cam lay beside him, just as breathless.
“Th.. thanks. I...”
“Only returning the favour. Shards, Shep how on earth did you manage this one? I nearly had a heart attack when I found the cave empty and signs of a fight.”
“Sorry,” Shep murmured, sleep tugging on his eyelids.
Cam snorted, “Sorry, yeah. I bet. I only tracked you through a damn portal and found you in Atlantis, of all places. Hell, Shep - only you. Only you!”
The moon had not yet risen, the stars still only pricking the sky. Shep’s last thought was this time completed, Thank the First for Cam.
And Cam, blinking back sleep himself, felt Shep’s exhaustion and gave up on the chewing out. Shuffling closer, Cam wrapped one wing around his friend and Shep burrowed down into it, relishing the comfort, the warmth.
“Thanks,” Shep yawned but if Cam replied, Shep didn’t hear, lost to a dreamless sleep.
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Fin
Dragon names:
Jhepard-shon (Shep)
Catchell-meron (Cam)
AN: This fic ate my brain. It’s the reason all other ‘pending’ sequel fics got bumped - which includes Cat!John. For those of you who read across the fandoms I write, it’s the reason Our Devoured Minds next instalment was delayed. But mostly its Maroon 5’s fault this fic was written. Mostly.
In my head, Shep looks a lot like Steve Weston’s illustrations of Dragons for the Pern books. The cool looking ones J Once again, I wish I could draw so I could fanart this. Sigh.
Final question: do I want to play in this little AU again? Oh, hell yes. Will your nagging precipitate more? No. Because I am strong willed and have two WIPs that need finishing and a long list of fics in need of sequels and a Cat!John fic to write. So no, don’t try it. (although there is a good chance no one will like it and I can shelve it for later \o/).