(no subject)
Aug. 2nd, 2007 09:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nnyHeh. So there's this meme to post bits of your works in progress. These are in progress in so far as I have an enormous need to write them all and ridiculous snippets in my head... that counts, right?
The one where the way to a man's heart is apparently the stomach, after all.
There was a rustle of clothing from within the stall, then the lock snicked back and Rodney’s glare appeared.
“You’re a petty man, Major.”
“Aaw, Rodney, don’t go all mushy on me.”
“And thankfully your services won’t be required.”
John pushed himself away from the wall as Rodney passed, brushing past him with a little more flounce than was strictly necessary.
“It’s amazing the effect you have on a man’s bowels, Sheppard.”
The one where there's a Stargate somewhere rather unexpected
"And he doesn't understand the smallest part of what I say to him," said Ponder helplessly, toying fretfully with the heap of twisted glass in front of him, "but he always seems to think that he still knows best regardless. The amount of times we've nearly torn irreparable holes in the fabric of the universe..."
"Believe me," Radek commiserated, gently patting the wizard on the shoulder, " it is no better when they do understand."
The one that's all about Jeannie
"I did - I did check, you know. To see whether you'd published - "
" - Mer - "
"No, I - it would have meant I could call you, belittle your paper and argue over your theories and - "
"Meredith."
"No, I'm getting there. Just, I - I could have - there was a conversation there that we knew and I could have apologised. For what was said. And it wouldn't have been the - the - the huge deal that a phone call specifically to say sorry would have been. I'm not good at this stuff, Jeannie."
"...never would have guessed."
"Oh ha ha. Very amusing." Another pause. "Just - I'm trying, okay? I deserve points."
The one I probably won't be writing, any more
"...who the hell are you? Where's John?"
The being shrugged. He was going to go with genie purely because a label worked better for his state of mind, although this one had decided to forgo the gauzy pants and was wandering around in something weirdly like a track suit. The crazy hair seemed to be a common feature.
"I am taking over temporarily. I owe him a favour from twenty two, possibly twenty three BC." He padded quietly - curly-toed slippers incongruous with the rest of his outfit - into the kitchen, and let out an explosive breath. "Really, McKay, you live like this?"
"I didn't sign on for insults. For that matter, I didn't sign on at all, so you get John back here so I can get rid of him properly."
Rodney found himself on the receiving end of a very dubious look and okay, so the argument hadn't made much sense to him either, but this was just getting ridiculous.
"Yes, yes. Your John will be back at end of the week. Right now your wish is my command, although if you are wanting to wait for his return I would be most grateful."
The faintly sticky noise of the refrigerator door opening broke the extended silence, and there was a happily accented 'Ah!' from inside it. A moment later the genie's head poked around the door.
"Can I move in here for the duration? It is the cleanest part of apartment, I think."
The one where Rodney is almost as rude as his doctor
"...are you trying to kill me?"
"Dr McKay - "
"No, I'm serious. Are you actually trying to kill me? Call me old fashioned, but it's something I generally like to know about my medical practitioners. Panic attacks at certain doom gives me something to do with my aftern- ow! What the hell was that? Who were you trained by, Dr Mengele?"
The one I'm not going to tell you about because the idea is so shiny that I don't want anyone stealing it
"You might want to work on that smile. It doesn't instill confidence. That smile says 'I enjoy light bondage and the inflicting of pain.'"
An emotion flickered across John's face, gone too quickly for positive identification, and then his smile widened slightly.
"That's a problem?"
The curse of being a genius, of having a brain that moved so fast, was that it meant that Rodney was on his eleventh graphic mental image before he'd swallowed, noisily, and cleared his throat.
The one where Rodney's a bounty hunter. Yeah, seriously. :D
The fever had almost spent itself by the time Rodney clucked his tongue at Naquadah and tugged on the reigns, drawing the poor long-suffering horse to a halt. John waited for the world to stop spinning and then raised his head, taking a look around at the battered, drooping house, the piles of scrap metal and dusty glass and broken machinery that littered the yard.
A man had been working at what looked like some kind of broken down thresher when he saw them and straightened, wiping his hands on his already grease-stained shirt, expression unreadable because of the sun reflecting off his little eye-glasses.
"So the prodigal has returned. What are you doing here, Rodney?"
The doc's name rolled strangely around in the small man's mouth, not like any accent John had come across, before.
"I do so love the way you make a man feel welcome, Radek." Rodney's voice was too loud and snippy and it was almost a relief to hear the familiar annoyance in his voice after he'd sounded so fretful for so long. "But delightful as this conversation would no doubt be I'm actually here to see your wife."
John lifted his head, surprised at the thought that any woman would put up with the state of the place, and nearly fell out of the saddle when a wave of dizziness and sickness rolled over him - he didn't even notice the other man's approach until he spoke.
"You call me that again, son, and I'll show you precisely what the hippocratic oath means out here in the wilderness. And who's this, now?" He stepped closer, fingers closing unerringly around John's wrist to find his pulse. "You're rescuing maidens in distress, Rodney?"
And that would be the moment the world went grey and John fell off the horse.
Call it dramatic irony.
The one where they're a tad more morally dubious than usual
"Sheppard? Sheppard!" The wheeled chair shot backwards as he stood up quickly, crashing into equipment on the other side of the van and quite possibly damaging something important. He'd check later.
"Sheppard if you don't speak to me in two seconds I swear to you I will follow you in there and that can only end badly for all concerned. I'll get shot somewhere important by a security guard with a name like 'Gort' and an IQ lower than the alsatian he's partnered with and bleed to death and only find comfort in the thought that sooner or later you'll get assassinated as revenge for losing the scientific community its brightest as-yet-undiscovered mind - "
"How the hell is anyone supposed to get a word in edgewise, Rodney?" Sheppard's drawl cut across his babble and he couldn't prevent himself from breathing an 'Oh thank God', hopefully too low for the mic to pick up. "And... 'Gort'?"
"It's monosyllabic. I thought it best considering who I was talking to." He rubbed a hand across his face, taking in a deep breath before turning and sinking awkwardly to his knees, picking up a circuit board that the chair had knocked off the table. It was more productive than thinking about how good John's voice sounded, breathless as it was. "Everything going according to plan?"
"Everything's going according to plan."
"See that it continues to do so. I'm far too busy to go worrying over you."
"You worried, Rodney?" Rodney rolled his eyes at the exaggerated amusement in John's voice.
"I worried about the fact that it's my next doctorate in diamonds you're carrying, there. Be careful."
"I didn't know - " there was a clank, and John grunted softly, right next to the mic. Rodney dug short nails into the palms of his hands - "you cared."
"...I don't. Shut up."
John chuckled, low and intimate in his ear. "Gort? Klaatu barada nikto."
And then the sharp double click that signalled that Rodney should really be quiet, right now, which was just as well since Rodney was having a little trouble with swallowing, embarrassingly and startlingly half-hard at the unexpected geekiness. That was so like John.
The one that's stupidly long and I need to get around to finishing some time soon.
“You’re that Jack. James.” He snapped his fingers restlessly, trying to recall the name that was just on the tip of his mind. “The one who was on that ridiculous radio show the other week.”
“John Sheppard.”
“Right, John. I’d assumed you were some script writer’s attempt at wish-fulfilment but I should have realised that no struggling artist would be willing to subject themselves to that much fan mail unless they had a wood-burning stove. Do you have a wood-burning stove?”
“Are you for real?”
Rodney snorted. “Very much so. If anyone’s reality is up for debate it really oughtn’t to be mine, Mr Sensitive Yet Manly man. Is that a calculated move on your part? Because I’d like to mock you heartlessly and inform you that ploys such as that never work, only the sheer volume of mail you’ve received makes that argument rather pointless. Keep talking, though; I’m sure I’ll find something to mock you for within a sentence or two.”
"I just - " his voice sounded more weary than anything, and the soft rustle of fabric gave Rodney the impression that he'd slumped back on his couch. "I don't get what I said wrong."
Admittedly, the snort he let slip wasn't the most diplomatic of replies, but -
"You said, on live, nationwide radio - and I quote, here - that 'some people just aren't meant to have that in their lives.' That, in this case, meaning love, happiness, family, all that heartwarming and gooshy stuff that men aren't supposed to talk about. And you expected that to be a turn-off?" Rodney shook his head despairingly at the phone. "And I thought I was hopeless with women. Really, Sheppard, thank you. You've given me hope."
"They like that?"
"They'll want to heal you." Sometimes there was a call for unbearable smugness. Possibly slightly more often in the world of Rodney McKay, yes, but this was just too good an opportunity to miss. "You'll be turning down marriage proposals by the carload."
"Including ones from your fiancée."
"Well her taste can't always be this good, now, can it?"A laugh rang in his ear, the man sounding startled into it, and Rodney couldn’t help his mouth quirking up on one side. “You do know you sound like a muppet when you do that?”
And that's not even half of the ideas noted down, those're just the ones I've written snippets for.
*sighs*
On the upside, hands are getting better. Soon I'll be able to start attacking them all again.
(Shut it. That's totally a good side.)
The one where the way to a man's heart is apparently the stomach, after all.
There was a rustle of clothing from within the stall, then the lock snicked back and Rodney’s glare appeared.
“You’re a petty man, Major.”
“Aaw, Rodney, don’t go all mushy on me.”
“And thankfully your services won’t be required.”
John pushed himself away from the wall as Rodney passed, brushing past him with a little more flounce than was strictly necessary.
“It’s amazing the effect you have on a man’s bowels, Sheppard.”
The one where there's a Stargate somewhere rather unexpected
"And he doesn't understand the smallest part of what I say to him," said Ponder helplessly, toying fretfully with the heap of twisted glass in front of him, "but he always seems to think that he still knows best regardless. The amount of times we've nearly torn irreparable holes in the fabric of the universe..."
"Believe me," Radek commiserated, gently patting the wizard on the shoulder, " it is no better when they do understand."
The one that's all about Jeannie
"I did - I did check, you know. To see whether you'd published - "
" - Mer - "
"No, I - it would have meant I could call you, belittle your paper and argue over your theories and - "
"Meredith."
"No, I'm getting there. Just, I - I could have - there was a conversation there that we knew and I could have apologised. For what was said. And it wouldn't have been the - the - the huge deal that a phone call specifically to say sorry would have been. I'm not good at this stuff, Jeannie."
"...never would have guessed."
"Oh ha ha. Very amusing." Another pause. "Just - I'm trying, okay? I deserve points."
The one I probably won't be writing, any more
"...who the hell are you? Where's John?"
The being shrugged. He was going to go with genie purely because a label worked better for his state of mind, although this one had decided to forgo the gauzy pants and was wandering around in something weirdly like a track suit. The crazy hair seemed to be a common feature.
"I am taking over temporarily. I owe him a favour from twenty two, possibly twenty three BC." He padded quietly - curly-toed slippers incongruous with the rest of his outfit - into the kitchen, and let out an explosive breath. "Really, McKay, you live like this?"
"I didn't sign on for insults. For that matter, I didn't sign on at all, so you get John back here so I can get rid of him properly."
Rodney found himself on the receiving end of a very dubious look and okay, so the argument hadn't made much sense to him either, but this was just getting ridiculous.
"Yes, yes. Your John will be back at end of the week. Right now your wish is my command, although if you are wanting to wait for his return I would be most grateful."
The faintly sticky noise of the refrigerator door opening broke the extended silence, and there was a happily accented 'Ah!' from inside it. A moment later the genie's head poked around the door.
"Can I move in here for the duration? It is the cleanest part of apartment, I think."
The one where Rodney is almost as rude as his doctor
"...are you trying to kill me?"
"Dr McKay - "
"No, I'm serious. Are you actually trying to kill me? Call me old fashioned, but it's something I generally like to know about my medical practitioners. Panic attacks at certain doom gives me something to do with my aftern- ow! What the hell was that? Who were you trained by, Dr Mengele?"
The one I'm not going to tell you about because the idea is so shiny that I don't want anyone stealing it
"You might want to work on that smile. It doesn't instill confidence. That smile says 'I enjoy light bondage and the inflicting of pain.'"
An emotion flickered across John's face, gone too quickly for positive identification, and then his smile widened slightly.
"That's a problem?"
The curse of being a genius, of having a brain that moved so fast, was that it meant that Rodney was on his eleventh graphic mental image before he'd swallowed, noisily, and cleared his throat.
The one where Rodney's a bounty hunter. Yeah, seriously. :D
The fever had almost spent itself by the time Rodney clucked his tongue at Naquadah and tugged on the reigns, drawing the poor long-suffering horse to a halt. John waited for the world to stop spinning and then raised his head, taking a look around at the battered, drooping house, the piles of scrap metal and dusty glass and broken machinery that littered the yard.
A man had been working at what looked like some kind of broken down thresher when he saw them and straightened, wiping his hands on his already grease-stained shirt, expression unreadable because of the sun reflecting off his little eye-glasses.
"So the prodigal has returned. What are you doing here, Rodney?"
The doc's name rolled strangely around in the small man's mouth, not like any accent John had come across, before.
"I do so love the way you make a man feel welcome, Radek." Rodney's voice was too loud and snippy and it was almost a relief to hear the familiar annoyance in his voice after he'd sounded so fretful for so long. "But delightful as this conversation would no doubt be I'm actually here to see your wife."
John lifted his head, surprised at the thought that any woman would put up with the state of the place, and nearly fell out of the saddle when a wave of dizziness and sickness rolled over him - he didn't even notice the other man's approach until he spoke.
"You call me that again, son, and I'll show you precisely what the hippocratic oath means out here in the wilderness. And who's this, now?" He stepped closer, fingers closing unerringly around John's wrist to find his pulse. "You're rescuing maidens in distress, Rodney?"
And that would be the moment the world went grey and John fell off the horse.
Call it dramatic irony.
The one where they're a tad more morally dubious than usual
"Sheppard? Sheppard!" The wheeled chair shot backwards as he stood up quickly, crashing into equipment on the other side of the van and quite possibly damaging something important. He'd check later.
"Sheppard if you don't speak to me in two seconds I swear to you I will follow you in there and that can only end badly for all concerned. I'll get shot somewhere important by a security guard with a name like 'Gort' and an IQ lower than the alsatian he's partnered with and bleed to death and only find comfort in the thought that sooner or later you'll get assassinated as revenge for losing the scientific community its brightest as-yet-undiscovered mind - "
"How the hell is anyone supposed to get a word in edgewise, Rodney?" Sheppard's drawl cut across his babble and he couldn't prevent himself from breathing an 'Oh thank God', hopefully too low for the mic to pick up. "And... 'Gort'?"
"It's monosyllabic. I thought it best considering who I was talking to." He rubbed a hand across his face, taking in a deep breath before turning and sinking awkwardly to his knees, picking up a circuit board that the chair had knocked off the table. It was more productive than thinking about how good John's voice sounded, breathless as it was. "Everything going according to plan?"
"Everything's going according to plan."
"See that it continues to do so. I'm far too busy to go worrying over you."
"You worried, Rodney?" Rodney rolled his eyes at the exaggerated amusement in John's voice.
"I worried about the fact that it's my next doctorate in diamonds you're carrying, there. Be careful."
"I didn't know - " there was a clank, and John grunted softly, right next to the mic. Rodney dug short nails into the palms of his hands - "you cared."
"...I don't. Shut up."
John chuckled, low and intimate in his ear. "Gort? Klaatu barada nikto."
And then the sharp double click that signalled that Rodney should really be quiet, right now, which was just as well since Rodney was having a little trouble with swallowing, embarrassingly and startlingly half-hard at the unexpected geekiness. That was so like John.
The one that's stupidly long and I need to get around to finishing some time soon.
“You’re that Jack. James.” He snapped his fingers restlessly, trying to recall the name that was just on the tip of his mind. “The one who was on that ridiculous radio show the other week.”
“John Sheppard.”
“Right, John. I’d assumed you were some script writer’s attempt at wish-fulfilment but I should have realised that no struggling artist would be willing to subject themselves to that much fan mail unless they had a wood-burning stove. Do you have a wood-burning stove?”
“Are you for real?”
Rodney snorted. “Very much so. If anyone’s reality is up for debate it really oughtn’t to be mine, Mr Sensitive Yet Manly man. Is that a calculated move on your part? Because I’d like to mock you heartlessly and inform you that ploys such as that never work, only the sheer volume of mail you’ve received makes that argument rather pointless. Keep talking, though; I’m sure I’ll find something to mock you for within a sentence or two.”
"I just - " his voice sounded more weary than anything, and the soft rustle of fabric gave Rodney the impression that he'd slumped back on his couch. "I don't get what I said wrong."
Admittedly, the snort he let slip wasn't the most diplomatic of replies, but -
"You said, on live, nationwide radio - and I quote, here - that 'some people just aren't meant to have that in their lives.' That, in this case, meaning love, happiness, family, all that heartwarming and gooshy stuff that men aren't supposed to talk about. And you expected that to be a turn-off?" Rodney shook his head despairingly at the phone. "And I thought I was hopeless with women. Really, Sheppard, thank you. You've given me hope."
"They like that?"
"They'll want to heal you." Sometimes there was a call for unbearable smugness. Possibly slightly more often in the world of Rodney McKay, yes, but this was just too good an opportunity to miss. "You'll be turning down marriage proposals by the carload."
"Including ones from your fiancée."
"Well her taste can't always be this good, now, can it?"A laugh rang in his ear, the man sounding startled into it, and Rodney couldn’t help his mouth quirking up on one side. “You do know you sound like a muppet when you do that?”
And that's not even half of the ideas noted down, those're just the ones I've written snippets for.
*sighs*
On the upside, hands are getting better. Soon I'll be able to start attacking them all again.
(Shut it. That's totally a good side.)
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
HELL YES YOU ARE GOING TO FINISH IT
Date: 2007-08-02 09:51 pm (UTC)Also: BOWELS. THAT ONE IS NEXT, YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW LONG I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR IT.
:D!!!
Re: HELL YES YOU ARE GOING TO FINISH IT
Date: 2007-08-02 09:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-03 11:55 am (UTC)Ohhh, yes, I second that! :D
Good to hear about your hands. *hugs*
no subject
Date: 2007-08-03 02:01 pm (UTC)And morally dubious is never a bad thing. *shifty*
no subject
Date: 2007-08-03 08:43 pm (UTC)And: *waaaaaaants, precious*
no subject
Date: 2007-08-04 10:49 am (UTC)ahem
Please?