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nnyOkay, when it starts getting biblical you know it's time to give up for the night. XD
(All of these were prompted by - and contain - lines from other drabbles. Therefore none of it is my fault!)
It wasn't like he'd ever admit to waiting for it, because that way lay hope, and hope led to some sequence of emotions which inevitably led to the Dark Side. He'd have laughed at that thought if he wasn't pretty sure that ever since - ever since, someone had been watching his every move.
He found it, waiting, the minute he opened the door to his quarters. He wasn't sure how the hell glowing tentacles managed to look sarcastic; the miracle of Ascension, maybe.
"Can it wait, McKay?" he asked, voice barely even hitching. "I've kind of had a long day."
*
“Ronon said you looked different in your suit.”
There was barely concealed laughter in McKay's voice, and John would've given him the finger if the enormous corn cob he was dressed as had had actual hands.
"Seriously, Sheppard, this is what you want to do with your life?"
"I don't know what I want to do," John said, exasperated. "I just know what I don't. I don't - "
"Don't do stage, I know." McKay circled in front of him, stopped right in his path, blue eyes earnest. "I just - you would be perfect for this, John. You need to trust me."
*
John shrugged and did as he was told. His hands braced against the wall, he smirked a little at the thorough search (because what the hell other option was there?), opened his mouth to make a smartass remark, but the thought of Rodney's face stopped him. The scientist flinched every time John was brought back to the cell, and his shirt was missing more than was left after all the swabs he'd made. The thought of Rodney's pale face, his tightening jaw made John close his mouth.
At least this time he could tell McKay that it wasn't his fault.
*
"I want you here inside me all the time."
John could almost see Rodney's blue eyes flare smugly bright.
"Of course you do," the snide mechanical voice said, somewhere in the back of his head. "I can't imagine how you can live in something so unbelievably slow."
"Of course you can't imagine," John shoots back, stung. "You're a damned machine."
"Oh, yes, now with the speciesist jokes. Why stop there? I'm sure there's something entirely tactless about WD-40 just waiting to slip out. Here I am, brain the size of a planet, and - "
"Shut the hell up, McKay, they're coming."
*
He points at the numbers silently, and John curses and taps delete, pissed at McKay, pissed at himself more.
John kind of hates that he doesn't even snap his fingers any more, since the whole damned thing with the whales. Sure, McKay can't hear it, but the movement at least still has to be familiar, right? It would be something kind of comforting.
To Rodney, too.
Right? he signs, fingers still clumsy in the movements, and Rodney nods quickly, a small smile pulling his mouth off-balance.
And then, slow and careful, movements exaggerated so John can translate: not prime.
*
"Do you believe in time travel?"
The kid stared up at him doubtfully through his bangs, and if Rodney had known about the floppy hair earlier he would have gotten years of snide remarks out of it. Instead now he was thinking horrible, awful, no-good things about jailbait, and he just - really needed to focus.
"Just - remember this, okay? Remember Atlantis. If anyone asks about Atlantis, run as far away as - "
The power flickered out, and Rodney sagged back in the chair, exhausted. Head falling back, he closed his eyes and prayed for the world to change around him.
*
The carbonite scene always made John tear up.
"CUT!"
Teyla, their Princess Leia, was starting to develop a twitch in her eye.
The director charged onto the stage, mouth drawn down at one corner, anger radiating off him in waves even John could see, though he hadn't managed to stop coughing yet.
"All I want is some kind of pseudo carbonite that won't kill my lead actor. Is that too much to ask?" McKay flailed, more of a drama queen than the cast combined. "I'm surrounded by idiots."
Star Wars: the musical wasn't getting off to the greatest of starts.
*
"One of the Marines uploaded it to the server." Zelenka was carefully not looking at him. Pretty much everybody had been carefully not looking at him, lately.
John slowly rubbed the tight muscles at the back of his neck, eyes grit-dry.
"And this is what he wanted?"
"He wanted, I think, to be remembered. This way he is still - " a quick fluttering gesture from the Czech, weirdly elegant. "Still around, to save Atlantis."
Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi, John thought, as the hologram popped up, gut-wrenchingly familiar, virtual arms folded across its virtual chest. You're my only hope.
*
"Bit of a fixer-upper, but a paint job, a few throw pillows, it'll be just like home."
Rodney looked at the coffee pot dubiously, then looked back at the vision in - frankly, way too flimsy pants to be good for his state of mind, right now.
"I - throw pillows? Seriously, are all genies obliged to be gay?" John - and what the hell kind of genie was called 'John', anyway? - glared at him, but Rodney didn't notice. "Although that said, Barbara Eden, that would be kind of hot."
John folded his arms. "Seriously, McKay, just pray you never meet Ronon."
*
"Just take the goddamned twig, Rodney," John growled, extending the olive branch even further.
"No, I - you've been out here all this time?" Rodney fluttered nervously. "How did - "
John ruffled his wings. "I like to fly."
Rodney regarded him admiringly. "You're kind of insane, you know that?" But he took the twig in his beak and started the flight back to the ark.
"You could - maybe come back," John called after him, studied nonchalance in his voice. "When you're done."
And Noah stayed yet other seven days; and sent forth the dove; which returned not again unto him any more.
(All of these were prompted by - and contain - lines from other drabbles. Therefore none of it is my fault!)
It wasn't like he'd ever admit to waiting for it, because that way lay hope, and hope led to some sequence of emotions which inevitably led to the Dark Side. He'd have laughed at that thought if he wasn't pretty sure that ever since - ever since, someone had been watching his every move.
He found it, waiting, the minute he opened the door to his quarters. He wasn't sure how the hell glowing tentacles managed to look sarcastic; the miracle of Ascension, maybe.
"Can it wait, McKay?" he asked, voice barely even hitching. "I've kind of had a long day."
*
“Ronon said you looked different in your suit.”
There was barely concealed laughter in McKay's voice, and John would've given him the finger if the enormous corn cob he was dressed as had had actual hands.
"Seriously, Sheppard, this is what you want to do with your life?"
"I don't know what I want to do," John said, exasperated. "I just know what I don't. I don't - "
"Don't do stage, I know." McKay circled in front of him, stopped right in his path, blue eyes earnest. "I just - you would be perfect for this, John. You need to trust me."
*
John shrugged and did as he was told. His hands braced against the wall, he smirked a little at the thorough search (because what the hell other option was there?), opened his mouth to make a smartass remark, but the thought of Rodney's face stopped him. The scientist flinched every time John was brought back to the cell, and his shirt was missing more than was left after all the swabs he'd made. The thought of Rodney's pale face, his tightening jaw made John close his mouth.
At least this time he could tell McKay that it wasn't his fault.
*
"I want you here inside me all the time."
John could almost see Rodney's blue eyes flare smugly bright.
"Of course you do," the snide mechanical voice said, somewhere in the back of his head. "I can't imagine how you can live in something so unbelievably slow."
"Of course you can't imagine," John shoots back, stung. "You're a damned machine."
"Oh, yes, now with the speciesist jokes. Why stop there? I'm sure there's something entirely tactless about WD-40 just waiting to slip out. Here I am, brain the size of a planet, and - "
"Shut the hell up, McKay, they're coming."
*
He points at the numbers silently, and John curses and taps delete, pissed at McKay, pissed at himself more.
John kind of hates that he doesn't even snap his fingers any more, since the whole damned thing with the whales. Sure, McKay can't hear it, but the movement at least still has to be familiar, right? It would be something kind of comforting.
To Rodney, too.
Right? he signs, fingers still clumsy in the movements, and Rodney nods quickly, a small smile pulling his mouth off-balance.
And then, slow and careful, movements exaggerated so John can translate: not prime.
*
"Do you believe in time travel?"
The kid stared up at him doubtfully through his bangs, and if Rodney had known about the floppy hair earlier he would have gotten years of snide remarks out of it. Instead now he was thinking horrible, awful, no-good things about jailbait, and he just - really needed to focus.
"Just - remember this, okay? Remember Atlantis. If anyone asks about Atlantis, run as far away as - "
The power flickered out, and Rodney sagged back in the chair, exhausted. Head falling back, he closed his eyes and prayed for the world to change around him.
*
The carbonite scene always made John tear up.
"CUT!"
Teyla, their Princess Leia, was starting to develop a twitch in her eye.
The director charged onto the stage, mouth drawn down at one corner, anger radiating off him in waves even John could see, though he hadn't managed to stop coughing yet.
"All I want is some kind of pseudo carbonite that won't kill my lead actor. Is that too much to ask?" McKay flailed, more of a drama queen than the cast combined. "I'm surrounded by idiots."
Star Wars: the musical wasn't getting off to the greatest of starts.
*
"One of the Marines uploaded it to the server." Zelenka was carefully not looking at him. Pretty much everybody had been carefully not looking at him, lately.
John slowly rubbed the tight muscles at the back of his neck, eyes grit-dry.
"And this is what he wanted?"
"He wanted, I think, to be remembered. This way he is still - " a quick fluttering gesture from the Czech, weirdly elegant. "Still around, to save Atlantis."
Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi, John thought, as the hologram popped up, gut-wrenchingly familiar, virtual arms folded across its virtual chest. You're my only hope.
*
"Bit of a fixer-upper, but a paint job, a few throw pillows, it'll be just like home."
Rodney looked at the coffee pot dubiously, then looked back at the vision in - frankly, way too flimsy pants to be good for his state of mind, right now.
"I - throw pillows? Seriously, are all genies obliged to be gay?" John - and what the hell kind of genie was called 'John', anyway? - glared at him, but Rodney didn't notice. "Although that said, Barbara Eden, that would be kind of hot."
John folded his arms. "Seriously, McKay, just pray you never meet Ronon."
*
"Just take the goddamned twig, Rodney," John growled, extending the olive branch even further.
"No, I - you've been out here all this time?" Rodney fluttered nervously. "How did - "
John ruffled his wings. "I like to fly."
Rodney regarded him admiringly. "You're kind of insane, you know that?" But he took the twig in his beak and started the flight back to the ark.
"You could - maybe come back," John called after him, studied nonchalance in his voice. "When you're done."
And Noah stayed yet other seven days; and sent forth the dove; which returned not again unto him any more.
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no subject
Date: 2008-04-27 12:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-27 01:15 am (UTC)But the Biblical ending? Priceless. :)