sga drabble wip: archetype
Title: Archetype
Author: Cesare (almostnever)
Pairing: pre John/Rodney
Word count: 1200
Ratings/Warnings: SFW. This story may be unsafe for people with triggers. ( skip) Aliens make Rodney strip.
Summary: It's all fun and games until you find your CSO posed nude on a divan.
*
Apparently on THX-138, a.k.a. Thail, Rodney's their masculine ideal. All the 'beautiful' people look like Jeannie and Rodney. It's weird.
"Seriously, you really think he's all that? McKay?" John asks.
"Oh, yes," sighs their guide rapturously.
"What about the, the hair."
"Doctor McKay's hair is very fine."
"What there is of it."
She says placidly, "A high brow is a sign of a noble mind."
"Yeah? What's a double chin a sign of?"
Her big, blue, eeriely-McKayish eyes widen. "I don't understand," she says sincerely.
John sighs. Small consolation: at least they made Rodney wear a ceremonial skirt.
-
He knows he's being a dick, but John can't help persisting. "So... McKay. You've seen him eat, right? He really packs it in. Talking the whole time."
"Oh?" Derria's generous lips cant into a flirty smile. "Our people admire a man of prodigious appetites."
"Okay, what about how one side of his mouth slopes down like a stroke victim's? That's a pretty specific thing-- that's part of your ideal?"
She turns to Teyla, almost pleadingly. "I don't understand. Don't your people find Dr. McKay to be a handsome man?"
"Dr. McKay is very highly esteemed among us," Teyla reassures her.
-
"Colonel Sheppard is responsible for Dr. McKay's safety and has risked himself to protect him many times. He has perhaps become a little... overprotective." Teyla gives John a look laced with a strong flavor of shut-the-fuck-up.
Derria touches John's arm. "Of course! So many people must have tried to take him from among you! I see why you would attempt to blind us to him. Please, we would be glad of any opportunity to make it better. You'll find us very generous in trade."
John surveys the carved naquadah arches. "Maybe we can work out a timeshare."
-
Of course, it's all fun and games until you find your CSO posed nude on a divan.
"You said you were painting his portrait!" John protests.
Derria indicates a painter, feverishly sketching McKay and company: a half dozen drop-dead gorgeous men and women surround McKay's divan, gazing on him adoringly.
At least McKay doesn't look to be enjoying it. He's surreptitiously putting his hand over his crotch, holding onto the tiny blue drape covering his dignity with a white-knuckled grip.
The whole thing would be extremely hilarious blackmail material, except McKay looks stressed and paranoid. That's not okay.
-
On closer examination, the gorgeous men and women around McKay all look... McKay-esque. The men are variations on a theme of Rodney; the women look like brunette Jeannies plus thirty-odd pounds. One guy even has McKay's skewed mouth.
If this is some kind of trap, it's pretty fucking elaborate.
John gives Rodney a smartass wave to let him know everything seems okay. Rodney flips him off with the hand that's not maintaining his decency.
The painter-- John suddenly realizes the guy reminds him of Zelenka-- protests. Rodney quickly lays his hand back on his specially arranged hand-pillow.
-
Now that McKay's less freaked, John can enjoy the absurdity of the whole thing.
McKay's reclining on his side against the pillowed end of the divan, naked except for that blue drape ribboning across his hips and covering his junk.
They oiled him up, which ought to look slimy and strange on a guy as pale as McKay, but the lighting must be really flattering in this gallery area or something, because it looks... not bad. It makes his pecs and shoulders and biceps look kinda impressive.
Does something for his thighs, too.
Yeah, definitely some amazing lighting in here.
-
The Radekish guy comes out from behind the painting to fuss over McKay. John tenses when the guy grabs McKay's hands, but he's just fanning out McKay's fingers more attractively.
Huh. McKay has really wide hands. And long fingers.
John dispatched Ronon to guard McKay during this portrait business, and finds him now standing behind the columns and arches lining the gallery.
Ronon looks like he's trying not to laugh, but Ronon usually looks like he's trying not to laugh. He gives John an all-clear motion, no problems so far.
John shifts uncomfortably. He's not so sure about that.
-
John and Teyla join Ronon; John's at a loss for words. Naked McKay and his McKaylettes kind of dominate everyone's attention.
"Report," he says finally, even though Ronon effectively already did that.
"Nothing happening," Ronon answers. "We should trade off. They keep tucking that material on McKay to show off his package and they get really pissy every time I laugh."
Off John's incredulous look, he adds, "Bad for relations."
John looks at Teyla hopefully.
She responds with a glare. "You and Ronon wish to conduct further negotiations?"
John squares his shoulders under the burden of command. "Right. I'll stay."
-
Teyla and Ronon return to the other end of the gallery to talk trade with Derria; John mans up and heads to nude scientist central.
Like it or not, people usually notice John. It's bizarre to approach and find everyone's attention still riveted to McKay.
Who's babbling wildly: "Among my people, my work is vital to the defense of lots of small, small helpless children, and animals, very cute and furry little animals. Mostly kittens, do you have those here? They're... very cute, very fluffy and adorable and they depend on me, you see, so, just take that into consideration."
-
"Calm down, McKay, the situation's secure," John drawls. As soon as the locals showed inordinate interest in their pet scientist, he put backup on standby.
McKay flicks his eyes toward his drape, hissing, "You call this secure?"
A McKaylette hangs over the back of the divan and coos, "Oh, Doctor McKay, you're undoing all we did to relax your shoulders. Please, let me work on you again."
So, gorgeous woman straight up giving McKay a naked massage. Okay then. She rubs his back and neck; McKay makes soft oomphs and ahhs.
John says, "...It looks like everything's under control here."
-
John doesn't leave fast enough: he's still up close and personal when another woman, casting a jealous glance at the masseuse, leans in and kisses McKay.
Now John can't leave. In case this... escalates. Could get dangerous.
McKay jumps at the touch, nearly undoing the strategic drapery. "Um--"
"Oh... if you'd prefer another," says Kissyface McKaylette, "any of us would be honored, delighted, to be so close to you. I will yield my place."
"That's not necessary, at all," McKay stutters. "You're-- fine, I mean, you're very beautiful and you... seem... nice? Stay, really."
No, go, really, John thinks furiously.
-
Time to face facts.
This crazy place is brainwashing John. All these people acting like Rodney's the hottest ticket around? It's screwing with John's head.
He's not repressed. He likes looking at Ronon, and Ronon likes being looked at, so that works for everyone; John's not really up for more.
It's been long enough since he was close to anyone that he doesn't remember it enough to miss it. It's best to keep it that way.
He's recognized that Rodney's attractive, but he's never really seen anyone touch Rodney before. Rodney was never dangerous to him.
So much for that.
-
The Thalians give Rodney an extravagant suite in their capitol building, usually reserved for visiting heads of state. With five large rooms, several beds, chaise longues and sofas, the team can sleep anywhere, but Rodney claims the master bed.
"I'm sleeping here!" he insists. "Their creepy fixation on me is getting us a favorable trade agreement, I should at least get a comfortable night's sleep out of it."
"What, the fawning isn't enough for you?" John asks.
"You always mock my paranoia-- you must've noticed this is actually quite uncomfortable for me." Rodney's expression goes troubled. "They can't mean it."
-
"Sure they can, McKay." John shrugs uncomfortably. "We visit a lot of planets, we were bound to come across one eventually where you're their idea of good-lookin'."
Rodney's mouth tugs down in that distinctive slant that seems to be a prized feature here. "Right," he says. "Bizarro World."
"Hey, what happened to 'you and I are about even when it comes to looks'?"
"Yes, well, Jeannie's enlightened me otherwise." Rodney slumps on the bed. "Katie sent a photo. She's dating. He looks like Lorne... you know, the hair, the," Rodney flutters his hand, "hotness."
"You think Lorne's hot?"
"Obviously."
Author: Cesare (almostnever)
Pairing: pre John/Rodney
Word count: 1200
Ratings/Warnings: SFW. This story may be unsafe for people with triggers. ( skip) Aliens make Rodney strip.
Summary: It's all fun and games until you find your CSO posed nude on a divan.
*
Apparently on THX-138, a.k.a. Thail, Rodney's their masculine ideal. All the 'beautiful' people look like Jeannie and Rodney. It's weird.
"Seriously, you really think he's all that? McKay?" John asks.
"Oh, yes," sighs their guide rapturously.
"What about the, the hair."
"Doctor McKay's hair is very fine."
"What there is of it."
She says placidly, "A high brow is a sign of a noble mind."
"Yeah? What's a double chin a sign of?"
Her big, blue, eeriely-McKayish eyes widen. "I don't understand," she says sincerely.
John sighs. Small consolation: at least they made Rodney wear a ceremonial skirt.
-
He knows he's being a dick, but John can't help persisting. "So... McKay. You've seen him eat, right? He really packs it in. Talking the whole time."
"Oh?" Derria's generous lips cant into a flirty smile. "Our people admire a man of prodigious appetites."
"Okay, what about how one side of his mouth slopes down like a stroke victim's? That's a pretty specific thing-- that's part of your ideal?"
She turns to Teyla, almost pleadingly. "I don't understand. Don't your people find Dr. McKay to be a handsome man?"
"Dr. McKay is very highly esteemed among us," Teyla reassures her.
-
"Colonel Sheppard is responsible for Dr. McKay's safety and has risked himself to protect him many times. He has perhaps become a little... overprotective." Teyla gives John a look laced with a strong flavor of shut-the-fuck-up.
Derria touches John's arm. "Of course! So many people must have tried to take him from among you! I see why you would attempt to blind us to him. Please, we would be glad of any opportunity to make it better. You'll find us very generous in trade."
John surveys the carved naquadah arches. "Maybe we can work out a timeshare."
-
Of course, it's all fun and games until you find your CSO posed nude on a divan.
"You said you were painting his portrait!" John protests.
Derria indicates a painter, feverishly sketching McKay and company: a half dozen drop-dead gorgeous men and women surround McKay's divan, gazing on him adoringly.
At least McKay doesn't look to be enjoying it. He's surreptitiously putting his hand over his crotch, holding onto the tiny blue drape covering his dignity with a white-knuckled grip.
The whole thing would be extremely hilarious blackmail material, except McKay looks stressed and paranoid. That's not okay.
-
On closer examination, the gorgeous men and women around McKay all look... McKay-esque. The men are variations on a theme of Rodney; the women look like brunette Jeannies plus thirty-odd pounds. One guy even has McKay's skewed mouth.
If this is some kind of trap, it's pretty fucking elaborate.
John gives Rodney a smartass wave to let him know everything seems okay. Rodney flips him off with the hand that's not maintaining his decency.
The painter-- John suddenly realizes the guy reminds him of Zelenka-- protests. Rodney quickly lays his hand back on his specially arranged hand-pillow.
-
Now that McKay's less freaked, John can enjoy the absurdity of the whole thing.
McKay's reclining on his side against the pillowed end of the divan, naked except for that blue drape ribboning across his hips and covering his junk.
They oiled him up, which ought to look slimy and strange on a guy as pale as McKay, but the lighting must be really flattering in this gallery area or something, because it looks... not bad. It makes his pecs and shoulders and biceps look kinda impressive.
Does something for his thighs, too.
Yeah, definitely some amazing lighting in here.
-
The Radekish guy comes out from behind the painting to fuss over McKay. John tenses when the guy grabs McKay's hands, but he's just fanning out McKay's fingers more attractively.
Huh. McKay has really wide hands. And long fingers.
John dispatched Ronon to guard McKay during this portrait business, and finds him now standing behind the columns and arches lining the gallery.
Ronon looks like he's trying not to laugh, but Ronon usually looks like he's trying not to laugh. He gives John an all-clear motion, no problems so far.
John shifts uncomfortably. He's not so sure about that.
-
John and Teyla join Ronon; John's at a loss for words. Naked McKay and his McKaylettes kind of dominate everyone's attention.
"Report," he says finally, even though Ronon effectively already did that.
"Nothing happening," Ronon answers. "We should trade off. They keep tucking that material on McKay to show off his package and they get really pissy every time I laugh."
Off John's incredulous look, he adds, "Bad for relations."
John looks at Teyla hopefully.
She responds with a glare. "You and Ronon wish to conduct further negotiations?"
John squares his shoulders under the burden of command. "Right. I'll stay."
-
Teyla and Ronon return to the other end of the gallery to talk trade with Derria; John mans up and heads to nude scientist central.
Like it or not, people usually notice John. It's bizarre to approach and find everyone's attention still riveted to McKay.
Who's babbling wildly: "Among my people, my work is vital to the defense of lots of small, small helpless children, and animals, very cute and furry little animals. Mostly kittens, do you have those here? They're... very cute, very fluffy and adorable and they depend on me, you see, so, just take that into consideration."
-
"Calm down, McKay, the situation's secure," John drawls. As soon as the locals showed inordinate interest in their pet scientist, he put backup on standby.
McKay flicks his eyes toward his drape, hissing, "You call this secure?"
A McKaylette hangs over the back of the divan and coos, "Oh, Doctor McKay, you're undoing all we did to relax your shoulders. Please, let me work on you again."
So, gorgeous woman straight up giving McKay a naked massage. Okay then. She rubs his back and neck; McKay makes soft oomphs and ahhs.
John says, "...It looks like everything's under control here."
-
John doesn't leave fast enough: he's still up close and personal when another woman, casting a jealous glance at the masseuse, leans in and kisses McKay.
Now John can't leave. In case this... escalates. Could get dangerous.
McKay jumps at the touch, nearly undoing the strategic drapery. "Um--"
"Oh... if you'd prefer another," says Kissyface McKaylette, "any of us would be honored, delighted, to be so close to you. I will yield my place."
"That's not necessary, at all," McKay stutters. "You're-- fine, I mean, you're very beautiful and you... seem... nice? Stay, really."
No, go, really, John thinks furiously.
-
Time to face facts.
This crazy place is brainwashing John. All these people acting like Rodney's the hottest ticket around? It's screwing with John's head.
He's not repressed. He likes looking at Ronon, and Ronon likes being looked at, so that works for everyone; John's not really up for more.
It's been long enough since he was close to anyone that he doesn't remember it enough to miss it. It's best to keep it that way.
He's recognized that Rodney's attractive, but he's never really seen anyone touch Rodney before. Rodney was never dangerous to him.
So much for that.
-
The Thalians give Rodney an extravagant suite in their capitol building, usually reserved for visiting heads of state. With five large rooms, several beds, chaise longues and sofas, the team can sleep anywhere, but Rodney claims the master bed.
"I'm sleeping here!" he insists. "Their creepy fixation on me is getting us a favorable trade agreement, I should at least get a comfortable night's sleep out of it."
"What, the fawning isn't enough for you?" John asks.
"You always mock my paranoia-- you must've noticed this is actually quite uncomfortable for me." Rodney's expression goes troubled. "They can't mean it."
-
"Sure they can, McKay." John shrugs uncomfortably. "We visit a lot of planets, we were bound to come across one eventually where you're their idea of good-lookin'."
Rodney's mouth tugs down in that distinctive slant that seems to be a prized feature here. "Right," he says. "Bizarro World."
"Hey, what happened to 'you and I are about even when it comes to looks'?"
"Yes, well, Jeannie's enlightened me otherwise." Rodney slumps on the bed. "Katie sent a photo. She's dating. He looks like Lorne... you know, the hair, the," Rodney flutters his hand, "hotness."
"You think Lorne's hot?"
"Obviously."