Yay, procrastination!
Title: Accessories
Summary: John tries to do a good deed, and this is the thanks he gets?
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Word Count: 450
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, language, established relationship, silliness
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay (in a hateful kind of way)
A/N: So, I was regaling shadowenangel with choice passages from a truly heinous Beckett/Sheppard/McKay badfic (in which McKay is seriously the worst sub in the history of mankind, but that's neither here nor there), in which people kept pulling all these "brand new" and highly specialized sex toys and fetish clothes and such out of nowhere, despite the fact that they're in another freaking galaxy with no way back (at that point in canon, anyway), and, well, it hurt me right in the logic. So this fic is one part shadowenangel made me do it and one part frustration. Oh, and one part I should be writing finals. Garnish with an olive or cocktail onion (but absolutely no citrus).
"I hate you so much," Rodney told him matter-of-factly, sitting primly in the co-pilot's chair- maybe it was the passenger's seat? John had never really been sure- of the puddlejumper.
"It wasn't that bad," John replied, though it was a complete and utter lie. It was easily the worst negotiation they had ever attempted.
From the back of the jumper, he could hear badly disguised snickering. "Ford," Teyla chided, very softly, but it didn't stop.
"How was I supposed to know they were going to react like that?" he snarled through clenched teeth, trying to keep his voice down.
Rodney let out an exasperated snort, which only served to piss John off more. Where did he get off acting so pissy, anyway? It wasn't like John had done anything that embarrassing- he'd discreetly taken the high priestess aside and asked her- with extreme solemnity and respect for her religious traditions- if she might trade for any of the really very suggestive looking stuff from the temple. It was totally working, too, up until she asked him who he was going to use it on.
"They had a fertility idol in the middle of town, for christ's sake!" John continued.
"I think the fertility, Major," he snapped, venom positively dripping from the words, "should have been your first clue."
"Well pardon the hell out of me for not realizing they wouldn't be equal opportunity!"
"I can't believe you would even think-"
John cut him off. "All I hear out of you is 'tie me up' this and 'wouldn't it be nice if we had some toys' that, and bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch!" From the back, Ford made a sound that was somewhere between laughing, exploding, and choking. John ignored him. "What did you want me to do? Wait until we found a planet with a Spencer's?"
Rodney rubbed his temples, looking seriously pissed off. "We were in bed. You're not supposed to actually take things that people say in bed seriously. You'll notice that I haven't gone down on you in the console room 'in front of god and everybody,' as you so eloquently put it, nor have I delivered Dr. Weir to your quarters all wrapped up in a bow!"
There was a thud as Ford fell to the floor, loudly guffawing and slapping his thigh. It almost- almost- drowned out Teyla's diplomatically soft, yet clearly uncontrollable laughter.
"Well, it's just as good we didn't get anything, isn't it? Cause it'll be a cold day in hell before I sleep with you again," John replied. "Now dial the fucking gate- and shut the hell up, Ford," he added, belatedly. He couldn't be out of that stupid puddlejumper fast enough.
Summary: John tries to do a good deed, and this is the thanks he gets?
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Word Count: 450
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, language, established relationship, silliness
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay (in a hateful kind of way)
A/N: So, I was regaling shadowenangel with choice passages from a truly heinous Beckett/Sheppard/McKay badfic (in which McKay is seriously the worst sub in the history of mankind, but that's neither here nor there), in which people kept pulling all these "brand new" and highly specialized sex toys and fetish clothes and such out of nowhere, despite the fact that they're in another freaking galaxy with no way back (at that point in canon, anyway), and, well, it hurt me right in the logic. So this fic is one part shadowenangel made me do it and one part frustration. Oh, and one part I should be writing finals. Garnish with an olive or cocktail onion (but absolutely no citrus).
"I hate you so much," Rodney told him matter-of-factly, sitting primly in the co-pilot's chair- maybe it was the passenger's seat? John had never really been sure- of the puddlejumper.
"It wasn't that bad," John replied, though it was a complete and utter lie. It was easily the worst negotiation they had ever attempted.
From the back of the jumper, he could hear badly disguised snickering. "Ford," Teyla chided, very softly, but it didn't stop.
"How was I supposed to know they were going to react like that?" he snarled through clenched teeth, trying to keep his voice down.
Rodney let out an exasperated snort, which only served to piss John off more. Where did he get off acting so pissy, anyway? It wasn't like John had done anything that embarrassing- he'd discreetly taken the high priestess aside and asked her- with extreme solemnity and respect for her religious traditions- if she might trade for any of the really very suggestive looking stuff from the temple. It was totally working, too, up until she asked him who he was going to use it on.
"They had a fertility idol in the middle of town, for christ's sake!" John continued.
"I think the fertility, Major," he snapped, venom positively dripping from the words, "should have been your first clue."
"Well pardon the hell out of me for not realizing they wouldn't be equal opportunity!"
"I can't believe you would even think-"
John cut him off. "All I hear out of you is 'tie me up' this and 'wouldn't it be nice if we had some toys' that, and bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch!" From the back, Ford made a sound that was somewhere between laughing, exploding, and choking. John ignored him. "What did you want me to do? Wait until we found a planet with a Spencer's?"
Rodney rubbed his temples, looking seriously pissed off. "We were in bed. You're not supposed to actually take things that people say in bed seriously. You'll notice that I haven't gone down on you in the console room 'in front of god and everybody,' as you so eloquently put it, nor have I delivered Dr. Weir to your quarters all wrapped up in a bow!"
There was a thud as Ford fell to the floor, loudly guffawing and slapping his thigh. It almost- almost- drowned out Teyla's diplomatically soft, yet clearly uncontrollable laughter.
"Well, it's just as good we didn't get anything, isn't it? Cause it'll be a cold day in hell before I sleep with you again," John replied. "Now dial the fucking gate- and shut the hell up, Ford," he added, belatedly. He couldn't be out of that stupid puddlejumper fast enough.