Fic: Wingman (McKay/Sheppard, past McKay/Keller, background Lorne/Parrish, PG13)
Title: Wingman
Author: enviropony
Recipient taste_is_sweet
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard, past McKay/Keller, background Lorne/Parrish
Rating PG-13
Disclaimer: Er, not mine?
Word Count: 760
Author's Notes: This is embarrassing, but I couldn’t help myself. This fulfills the wing!fic and transformation portion of taste_is_sweet’s request, but I’m pretty sure that it’s not quite what she had in mind. And, er, this is more cliffhanger than happy ending. Sorry. :-(
Summary: Evan Lorne has a problem, but nobody really cares. In the same universe as “Know,” but can stand on its own.
- - -
He’s been terrorized, imprisoned, whipped, and scraped bloody in the name of medical intervention. He has lost his memory and been sold as a slave. He’s been called a dork, a fag, a hippie, and a pansy-ass, Chair Force flyboy. Evan Lorne has been and done a lot of things, but in the whole of his life and career, he has never, ever been called a chicken.
Until now.
“No, seriously, look at the tail,” McKay insists. “Look at the color. My roommate in undergrad did behavioral experiments on Bantams. He had pictures of the things all over the place. I’m telling you, Lorne’s turning into a chicken.”
Evan thwaps McKay across the face with one red-gold wing, and tries to look suitably contrite when Sheppard scowls at him. “Sorry, Doc, still getting used to how big these things are.”
Sheppard glares, and Evan puts on what his mother calls his angelic look: wide-eyed and baffled. “Sweet-boy innocence,” Mom had said once. “That’s what Lucifer looked like before the Fall.”
Sheppard doesn’t blink, but it’s not like he can call Evan on it. Instead, he turns on Keller. “Can you fix it?” he asks bluntly.
Keller’s wearing a little scowl of her own - it seems like she has been ever since Rodney walked away from her, and it’s almost always directed at Sheppard. “I don’t know. The transformation seems to have stopped. It’ll take me some time to figure out the actual process. Science might have better luck repairing the device.” She never calls Rodney by name anymore if she can help it, referring to him or his division as ‘Science,’ as if she can just talk around him.
Evan learned a long time ago that nobody talked around Rodney McKay.
“They’ll be working on it,” Sheppard assures, silencing McKay with a look.
Except for John Sheppard, maybe.
McKay frowns back, and then, very deliberately talking to Keller, says, “I’ve got four people working on it as we speak. I’ll be joining them shortly. I hope that you’ll pass on all the information you gather, so that we can approach this from every possible angle. If we know what happened, we may be able to modify another device to reverse the process.”
Keller bristles. “I’d strongly recommend against further experimentation…”
Sheppard watches the ensuing argument like he’s at a tennis match, head turning back and forth to follow the action.
Evan sighs. As usual, they’re caught up in their own little drama, ignoring the more immediate problem at hand, which happens to be that he doesn’t have any hands, because they’ve turned into wings. He also can’t hike his pants up all the way because of the ornate tail (which he does admit sort of looks like it came off of a giant Bantam rooster). He can, however, scratch behind his ear with one massive claw (no way could he get his foot that high up before), so he does, and watches with self-satisfaction as the argument grinds to a halt.
“Um, did you just…?” McKay starts to ask, and then shakes his head. “You know what? I don’t want to know. I’m going to the lab.” He points at Keller. “Send me what you have, like, yesterday!”
Sheppard and Keller watch him stalk out, then turn to glare at each other. Evan’s not sure what this pissing contest is about - Sheppard’s got McKay, sure, but Keller’s going out with that Norwegian biochemist (who’s actually her age, and polite, and in something approaching her line of work), so what the hell do they still have against each other?
He doesn’t get to contemplate it much longer, because Walhurst pokes his head through the door and says, “Sirs? We caught Doctor Parrish.”
Who, much to Evan’s horror, is not turning into another chicken, but has completed the transformation into a very large, very magnificent-looking chicken hawk.
“What did I do to deserve this?” Sheppard moans as they stand on the East Pier, watching the hawk bash itself against a hastily-extended jumper shield.
“Deserve what?” Evan growls, and pointedly scrapes a claw on the metal deck. Sheppard cringes at the ear-splitting screech.
Evan shivers as the hawk screeches in kind.
-end-
Author: enviropony
Recipient taste_is_sweet
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard, past McKay/Keller, background Lorne/Parrish
Rating PG-13
Disclaimer: Er, not mine?
Word Count: 760
Author's Notes: This is embarrassing, but I couldn’t help myself. This fulfills the wing!fic and transformation portion of taste_is_sweet’s request, but I’m pretty sure that it’s not quite what she had in mind. And, er, this is more cliffhanger than happy ending. Sorry. :-(
Summary: Evan Lorne has a problem, but nobody really cares. In the same universe as “Know,” but can stand on its own.
- - -
He’s been terrorized, imprisoned, whipped, and scraped bloody in the name of medical intervention. He has lost his memory and been sold as a slave. He’s been called a dork, a fag, a hippie, and a pansy-ass, Chair Force flyboy. Evan Lorne has been and done a lot of things, but in the whole of his life and career, he has never, ever been called a chicken.
Until now.
“No, seriously, look at the tail,” McKay insists. “Look at the color. My roommate in undergrad did behavioral experiments on Bantams. He had pictures of the things all over the place. I’m telling you, Lorne’s turning into a chicken.”
Evan thwaps McKay across the face with one red-gold wing, and tries to look suitably contrite when Sheppard scowls at him. “Sorry, Doc, still getting used to how big these things are.”
Sheppard glares, and Evan puts on what his mother calls his angelic look: wide-eyed and baffled. “Sweet-boy innocence,” Mom had said once. “That’s what Lucifer looked like before the Fall.”
Sheppard doesn’t blink, but it’s not like he can call Evan on it. Instead, he turns on Keller. “Can you fix it?” he asks bluntly.
Keller’s wearing a little scowl of her own - it seems like she has been ever since Rodney walked away from her, and it’s almost always directed at Sheppard. “I don’t know. The transformation seems to have stopped. It’ll take me some time to figure out the actual process. Science might have better luck repairing the device.” She never calls Rodney by name anymore if she can help it, referring to him or his division as ‘Science,’ as if she can just talk around him.
Evan learned a long time ago that nobody talked around Rodney McKay.
“They’ll be working on it,” Sheppard assures, silencing McKay with a look.
Except for John Sheppard, maybe.
McKay frowns back, and then, very deliberately talking to Keller, says, “I’ve got four people working on it as we speak. I’ll be joining them shortly. I hope that you’ll pass on all the information you gather, so that we can approach this from every possible angle. If we know what happened, we may be able to modify another device to reverse the process.”
Keller bristles. “I’d strongly recommend against further experimentation…”
Sheppard watches the ensuing argument like he’s at a tennis match, head turning back and forth to follow the action.
Evan sighs. As usual, they’re caught up in their own little drama, ignoring the more immediate problem at hand, which happens to be that he doesn’t have any hands, because they’ve turned into wings. He also can’t hike his pants up all the way because of the ornate tail (which he does admit sort of looks like it came off of a giant Bantam rooster). He can, however, scratch behind his ear with one massive claw (no way could he get his foot that high up before), so he does, and watches with self-satisfaction as the argument grinds to a halt.
“Um, did you just…?” McKay starts to ask, and then shakes his head. “You know what? I don’t want to know. I’m going to the lab.” He points at Keller. “Send me what you have, like, yesterday!”
Sheppard and Keller watch him stalk out, then turn to glare at each other. Evan’s not sure what this pissing contest is about - Sheppard’s got McKay, sure, but Keller’s going out with that Norwegian biochemist (who’s actually her age, and polite, and in something approaching her line of work), so what the hell do they still have against each other?
He doesn’t get to contemplate it much longer, because Walhurst pokes his head through the door and says, “Sirs? We caught Doctor Parrish.”
Who, much to Evan’s horror, is not turning into another chicken, but has completed the transformation into a very large, very magnificent-looking chicken hawk.
“What did I do to deserve this?” Sheppard moans as they stand on the East Pier, watching the hawk bash itself against a hastily-extended jumper shield.
“Deserve what?” Evan growls, and pointedly scrapes a claw on the metal deck. Sheppard cringes at the ear-splitting screech.
Evan shivers as the hawk screeches in kind.
-end-