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05 December 2005 @ 04:04 pm
because at this point, the day is pretty much a write-off...  
I'll write three sentences or more of comment fic for the first ten people to leave a request. Must be SGA John/Rodney, and unrelated to anything I've written previously. Give me a scenario, anything.

I really hate when I'm unfocused and useless. I'm never going to achieve ascension at this rate.
captain heteroknowledgeable: i thought you locked the doornotpoetry on December 6th, 2005 12:14 am (UTC)
John decides Rodney owes him a blowjob for all the lifesaving.

That, or amnesia.
Anna S.: john-devileliade on December 6th, 2005 01:18 am (UTC)
"Say again?" Rodney gave a little frown. John could tell he thought he'd misunderstood; his tone was puzzled and not yet uncivil, merely suggesting in the normal way that the person he was speaking to was half-witted and possibly insane. "Trade agreement? What are you talking about?"

"Tit for tat," John said, leaning against the wall. "Though without the tits," he added, making generous allowance for Rodney's deficiency.

Rodney's mouth was hanging open a bit now, which always fascinated John. It was hard to drag your gaze away from such a ready mouth. "I'm sorry, can we return to English for the remainder of this conversation?" He was starting to look twitchy, like he wanted to get far away from John, but they were in Rodney's quarters.

"I'm thinking blow-job," John said, as if choosing from a variety of menu options.

"You're--*what*? Are you drunk?" His expression suddenly changed to distracted self-interest. "I heard rumors of a still, but no one will confirm it. How'd you find it? I can't believe they'd tell you and not me."

"Let's stay on topic." John pushed off the wall and approached Rodney, trying for a prowl and ignoring the confused and dubious look this got him. "Last five missions, I had to pull your ass out of the fire. You insult priests, you steal priceless artifacts--I'm beginning to wonder how you've managed to avoid jail time all these years."

"That's patently unfair. You cause just as much trouble as I do. More."

"It's my job to cause trouble. That's what being in charge is about."

"Really?" Rodney's chin lifted skeptically and his lips formed a dry line. "I must remember to ask Elizabeth whether her handbooks contain that clever management principle." He lost some of his self-possession and fidgeted when John came near enough to share body heat. "Seriously." Another fidget. "You have lost your mind. Also, we both know you have regulations. You'd never--" He paused and swallowed, gaze fixed with rising intensity on John's.

"Never what? Extort sexual favors from a subordinate?"

"Excuse me, I am *not* your subordinate."

"No, you're right. You're very insubordinate."

"Gay. Gay sexual favors." He was trying to regulate his breathing, and John could tell it was getting more difficult. "You never--you never said--"

"I'm saying."


"Get with the program, Rodney."

"Right." Rodney looked dazed. "So you're saying I give you blow-jobs and you continue to--"

"To save you from yourself."

"Well, that sounds--" Rodney hesitated for a second in an endearing pretense of thinking the proposal over, then lifted his chin again a fraction and smiled at John with a new gleam in his eye. "Eminently reasonable."

And so informal negotiations for the McKay-Sheppard Free Trade Agreement began.
(no subject) - alizarin_nyc on December 6th, 2005 04:24 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - imkalena on December 10th, 2005 05:55 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - jcalanthe on December 10th, 2005 07:06 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - mmmchelle on December 12th, 2005 02:42 pm (UTC) (Expand)
happy - logovo on December 12th, 2005 04:06 pm (UTC) (Expand)
(Deleted comment)
Anna S.: rodney-bweliade on December 6th, 2005 02:21 am (UTC)
"I just don't like being cold." Maintaining his morose hunch, John stared with sullen eyes and compressed lips at the snow whirling outside the cave's entrance.

"You seemed uncommonly fond of Antarctica."

"They didn't ask me to go outside and make snow angels."

"Good point." Rodney looked around at the oppressive walls of the cave, glittering in the lantern light. Usually he'd be the one complaining by now, but he was put off his stride by John's dark mood. "I always liked making snow forts when I was little."

"Congratulations. Your Canadian fortitude's very impressive. Did I mention I'm from Southern California?"

"You know, it's always the punsters who get eaten first."

But even an allusion to cannibalism couldn't get a rise from John, who just tucked his chin more deeply into his coat. His entire face was hooded now, leaving only a tuft of sad hair peeking out from under the edge. Rodney shifted his limbs as best he could in the enclosed space and clapped his hands briskly until a ghost of feeling reentered his flesh. Though useful, the exercise got him no warmer.

John's uncharacteristically bleak retreat was making Rodney nervous; he wished he knew how to respond. After a few minutes he inched close to John, whose head lifted at the movement.

"What are you doing?"

"Conserving body heat. Surviving hypothermia requires cooperation, Colonel. I'd have thought the Air Force covered that sort of thing in field training, but maybe you were off surfing that day." He tried to sound snappish and normal. John's face stayed disturbingly blank. Rodney ignored his own discomfort and gave him a bear hug that would have been socially inappropriate if they hadn't been dying.

"Surfing," John said as Rodney pulled their hoods close together and breathed against his face. The air was a puff of white. Did he even *have* a core temperature anymore?

"Keep talking," Rodney said.

"Surfed ever since grade school. You get a long ride and it's just like flying. Even before I flew I knew that's what it'd be like." He paused for so long with his eyes lowered that Rodney was about to give him an anxious poke, and then he murmured, "I can't feel my lips."

"Don't fade on me," Rodney said, sharpness covering his fear. "Colonel!" When John didn't answer, Rodney grabbed his chin and kissed him until he felt a jerk of life.

"Hey." John's glare mustered only a weak agitation, but Rodney's body surged with enough relief to warm it for a moment. "What're you doing?"

"Just consider that the kiss of life, and try to remember that you're not supposed to tell anyone."

The excuse of survival between them, Rodney drew John's head against his shoulder and felt what might have been a soft sigh in the chill air surrounding their faces. But he knew what to do now.
(no subject) - minnow1212 on December 6th, 2005 03:06 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - thepouncer on December 6th, 2005 03:42 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - wychwood on December 13th, 2005 03:39 pm (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - alizarin_nyc on December 6th, 2005 04:27 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - some_stars on December 6th, 2005 10:12 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - eliade on December 12th, 2005 02:14 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - jcalanthe on December 10th, 2005 07:19 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - the_green_sheep on December 12th, 2005 09:52 pm (UTC) (Expand)
Kitestringer: Can fly in a straight linekitestringer on December 6th, 2005 12:17 am (UTC)
Meep! I can't believe I saw this in time! :-)

Scenario: John is shocked by Rodney's unexpected ability to do something outdoorsy and survival related, like skinning an animal or starting a fire with sticks or something.
Anna S.: john-rodney-intenseeliade on December 6th, 2005 04:31 am (UTC)
The morphine expanded across the pain, softening and dissolving it. John lay on his uninjured side and watched as Rodney gathered sticks and dried grass for a fire. Pain was washing away like grit in rivulets; John's body was growing lighter, light enough to be carried gently down a river of peace. A ray of light broke through the needled branches of the trees and lit up a patch of ground by John's pillowed head. His gaze focused there a moment, then slid back to Rodney, who was notching a flat piece of wood with his knife. John felt as if he were very young again, a boy lost in the woods instead of a man, and he was watching someone, a woodsman, a rescuer, take care of him with competent hands.

If his mind had been clear, he'd have been able to say with certainty just what skills Rodney did and didn't possess; it was John's job to make sure Rodney could survive alone on a strange world if it came to that, or at least that he had a fighting chance. But now as he watched Rodney rub the sticks between his hands it seemed to John as if he were the one learning something, a secret revealed. Every man should have the ability to create fire. It was the most basic knowledge that raised him above the animals, and he should have known that Rodney carried that with him.

The details of the scene seemed hyperreal. John could see the weave in the fabric of Rodney's trousers, the way the material pulled taut against his knee as he knelt, and the hair on the backs of his fingers picking up the light, light picking up the edge of his stubble, twists of hair on his arms, and John could see the beads of blood lining a scratch on Rodney's right arm, a bruise forming on the edge of his wrist, blood on his knuckles, the knitted point of his brows and the unrecognizable distance and ferocity in his eyes, which he kept fixed on the fire, wisps of smoke rising, a bird alighting on a log behind him, cocking its head, the swift business of his hands as he added grass to the embers, his moving mouth as he blew on them.

John felt almost childishly young, pulled back along the current of a river, but sight and knowledge felt like the product of sex, desire buried now like the pain under the surface, but it wouldn't stay buried, and when they were safely home--because John knew that Rodney would get them safely home--he would have something to say to Rodney, and he almost knew what it was.
(no subject) - spike21 on December 6th, 2005 06:21 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - kitestringer on December 6th, 2005 08:22 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - some_stars on December 6th, 2005 10:13 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - lamardeuse on December 6th, 2005 04:32 pm (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - pollitt on December 7th, 2005 07:38 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - callsigns on December 8th, 2005 01:54 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - advection on December 9th, 2005 11:32 pm (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - lyrstzha on December 10th, 2005 12:58 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - imkalena on December 10th, 2005 06:01 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - the_green_sheep on December 12th, 2005 09:48 pm (UTC) (Expand)
nataliadarimini on December 6th, 2005 12:17 am (UTC)
Ooh, yay!

Um... Rodney sees something off-world that makes him nostalgic for Canada.
Anna S.: dino-rodneyeliade on December 9th, 2005 10:45 pm (UTC)
"You're not really going to eat all of that, are you?" John said to Rodney, keeping his voice diplomatically low so the Nida wouldn't overhear. He couldn't look away from the heaping mess on the other man's plate, which could have passed for the tragic morning aftereffects of a bar crawl followed by a late-night visit to a seedy diner.

"It's like poutine," Rodney said dreamily, shoving another spoonful in his mouth and working his jaw around it.

"And you think that *excuses* it?" John was damn hungry, and more than a little pissed off at the Nida for offering nothing other than this. He'd balanced his own plate on his thigh and was trying to figure out a discreet way to make its contents disappear. It didn't do to offend your hosts' cuisine. Once on P3X-811 they'd been chased from the city by a mob of angry chefs because Rodney insulted their dessert offerings. ("It tasted like dung topped with cherry flambé. Was I just supposed to remain silent?")

"Your jejune palate never fails to amaze me," Rodney said around a mouthful of the stuff. "Ronon likes it." His tone was approving as he nodded across the fire at their teammate.

"Which just proves my case."

"Which was what again?"

"You are enjoying the gnith?" the Nida's chief representative asked, smiling at John.

"It's...extraordinary." John smiled back, ignoring the derisive sound that Rodney made. He sometimes thought that Rodney's level of respect for people at any given moment corresponded to how tactful they were being. The more tactful, the lower his regard. Rodney thought everyone should say what they thought, unvarnished. "It would save so much time," he was prone to complaining. "Good manners are just an elaborate charade that postpones real discussion."

It was almost too bad John didn't talk to his father any more; he would have brought Rodney home to visit in a heartbeat just to watch that epic contest between taciturn passive-aggression and aggressive bluntness.

"Can we trade for this, do you think?" Rodney asked John later, when they'd retired to their guest quarters. He'd brought a bowl of leftovers with him, saturating the air of the common room with the smell. Teyla had already fled to her chamber. Ronon was eyeing the bowl sullenly, obviously kicking himself for not thinking to get more.

"Get that away from me!" John said, exasperation cresting as Rodney gestured the bowl toward him. Rodney kept chewing and swallowing, unmoved.

"I'm going to bed," Ronon said, and did.

"Don't leave that bowl out here," John warned by way of a good-night, and went to his own room. Rodney followed him in.

"You got the best room," he observed, looking around.

John grabbed the bowl of gnith, ignoring Rodney's "Hey! What--" and threw it out the window. It clattered on the cobblestones below. Somewhere, an animal made a barking sound. He turned around to see Rodney staring at him with a bemused look.

"That was uncalled for."

"You brought that *stuff* into my room, Rodney!"

"Remind me never to bring you any Ming vases or small pets."

John lowered his head and gave him a smoldering stare that didn't feel entirely nice from the inside, but promised fun. He saw Rodney respond to this, his throat giving a bob, always a good sign. "Go brush your teeth."

Rodney's lips twitched sardonically. "Should I burn my clothes?"

"I think taking them off will do."

"Generous," Rodney said, and John was.
Buckaroowhatdanidigs on December 6th, 2005 12:18 am (UTC)
With all this talk of ferris wheels, how about one with them on it, building one, or trying to describe one.
Anna S.eliade on December 12th, 2005 01:47 am (UTC)
This was too long for a comment field, but you can see it here:


Not so much Fallen as Sauntering Vaguely Downwards: sga_that look (ihatefastcars)elfgirl on December 6th, 2005 12:19 am (UTC)
Rodney and/or John having to deal with their respective families. (This fic is encouraging a strange kink for "family fic" in me. Don't ask.)
Anna S.: dino-sobeliade on December 12th, 2005 04:54 pm (UTC)
This is too long for the comment field, but I've posted it here:


(no subject) - elfgirl on December 13th, 2005 04:07 pm (UTC) (Expand)
Jonathan Toews does not want a sandwich.svmadelyn on December 6th, 2005 12:19 am (UTC)
Me, me, me! *reserves spot in line and shall ponder for two seconds*
Anna S.eliade on December 6th, 2005 12:23 am (UTC)
Your place is saved. :)
(no subject) - svmadelyn on December 6th, 2005 12:26 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - eliade on December 6th, 2005 12:35 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - svmadelyn on December 6th, 2005 12:24 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - abbylee on December 6th, 2005 12:53 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - eliade on December 6th, 2005 01:25 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - z_rayne on December 6th, 2005 01:45 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - eliade on December 12th, 2005 04:41 am (UTC) (Expand)
WesleysGirl: SGAwesleysgirl on December 6th, 2005 12:20 am (UTC)
My day has been a complete write-off too, but the requests I can think of will take longer to explain than they would to write, LOL!

"John is a scientist working in his lab. Oh, and he's wearing little wire-rimmed glasses, like Mulder, and his hair is sticking up not because he arranges it that way but because he has this tendency to shove his fingers through it roughly when he's frustrated, which happens about six hundred times per day. Minimum. The high-security building in which John is working has a new head of security - Rodney McKay, who's heard that John works late and doesn't pay attention to anything that's going on around him. Rodney sets off some kind of alarm in the hallway outside the lab in which John is working, then watches through the door as John completely fails to react in any way to the loud shrieking of the alarm. Rodney then straight-arms his way into the lab, holding his big, chunky gun pointed toward the floor, and proceeds to yell at John about how he's an idiot that's going to get himself killed, that the alarms are there for a reason, you know, and John just looks at him, confused and bemused, his green eyes looking at Rodney without the slightest hint of self-preservation. When Rodney finally winds down, out of breath, brow furrowed, John points out some tiny error in the grammar of Rodney's tirade, and Rodney snaps back that he'll be sure to use proper grammar when he's standing over John's body because some lunatic with more brains than common sense has broken into the lab and murdered John, and John just smiles at him and asks if he wants to go get a drink. And Rodney stammers and licks his lips and finally agrees. And on the way out, John asks if Rodney always wears that bullet-proof vest under his shirt. Rodney says that of course he does, some people have more common sense than God gave a rock, and in his line of work it's like John going to the office without his pocket protector. John says that only geeks use pocket protectors, then asks thoughtfully if Rodney finds the vest... constricting, and there's more flushing and stammering"

and as you can see, there's hardly any point in asking you to write it now. *Loves*
Anna S.: boy with milkeliade on December 6th, 2005 12:24 am (UTC)
*loves you*
(no subject) - wesleysgirl on December 7th, 2005 01:37 pm (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - alizarin_nyc on December 6th, 2005 04:51 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - wesleysgirl on December 7th, 2005 01:38 pm (UTC) (Expand)
(Deleted comment)
(no subject) - wesleysgirl on December 7th, 2005 01:47 pm (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - nova_bright on December 7th, 2005 12:01 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - wesleysgirl on December 7th, 2005 01:38 pm (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - eliade on December 12th, 2005 04:59 pm (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - wesleysgirl on December 12th, 2005 05:48 pm (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - eliade on December 13th, 2005 12:06 am (UTC) (Expand)
(Anonymous) on December 6th, 2005 12:20 am (UTC)
John and Rodney watch The Meaning of Life.
wyoluvrwyoluvr on December 6th, 2005 12:21 am (UTC)
crap, that was me! Monty Python, yay!
(no subject) - eliade on December 14th, 2005 05:48 am (UTC) (Expand)
Pouncer: Shep in bluethepouncer on December 6th, 2005 12:21 am (UTC)
Heroism and Ancient gadgets.
V.aurora_84 on December 6th, 2005 12:21 am (UTC)

Role reversal? Dorky!scientist!John & military!rodney.
You're out of adventures :(claire on December 6th, 2005 12:28 am (UTC)
This is where I curse my cup of coffee, because I would have so been in time to jump in line if I didn't go away and make it ;)
abbyleeabbylee on December 6th, 2005 12:51 am (UTC)
I've been falling in love with the SG-1 elevator conversations. ie, the weird things that happen or how they talk to each other. Can I have the two boys in there? Preferably snarky over smutty.

If that doesn't appeal, then anything involving coffee.

(Anonymous) on December 6th, 2005 12:54 am (UTC)
*watches with interest*
inthekeyofd: McShep-torsos-newkidfaninthekeyofd on December 6th, 2005 04:43 pm (UTC)
Whoa..you did that all off the top of your head. You are just JUST TOO GOOD!!!