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out_thereTitle: And Sometimes The Aliens Don't Make Them Have Sex
Fandom: SGA
Pairing: None, really.
Rating: G
Summary: Not all of the tribal rituals are about sex. Really.
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me. I'm not pretending this has any point other than a cheap laugh.
Notes: Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
celli and seperis for playing audience. Any mistakes are mine.
And Sometimes The Aliens Don't Make Them Have Sex
Rodney looked at the plate in front of him. Plate was a generous term for something that looked like the long lost ancestor of terracotta, roughly flattened into a random shape. There was no way he was doing this.
"I'm not doing this," he said out loud, in case Major Sheppard hadn't understood what his first five 'no's meant. "No way, no how."
The Major's smiled stretched uncomfortably and he bared his teeth in something close to a grimace. "You don't have a choice, McKay. Remember the nice guards with lots of sharp, pointy spears?"
"That's what guns are for. That's why you bring the guns. So I don't have to do *this*," Rodney waved his hands wildly, trying to point to the plate, the wide tent, and the tribe Elders with long white beards and long yellow teeth. Oh, and the nice guards standing at each exit. "You can't force me."
"I beg to differ," Sheppard said calmly, the tension all in his bony, clenched fists and tight smirk. "It's a ritual, it's an honor, and if I had to do it, you have to do it."
"You're the team leader!"
"So?"
"You were taking one for the team. And I for one respect that daring level of self-sacrifice, and if you keel over from food poisoning, I will tell Elizabeth how brave and noble your death was, but there is no way I'm eating those!" Rodney punctuated his point by stabbing a finger towards the plate, towards the green, hairy caterpillars crawling across it, their tiny little suctiony-legs grappling over each others backs as they made a living, moving pile of *delicacies*. "No. Way."
Sheppard's eyes went so wide Rodney could see the whites all around the irises. The mad stare combined with the maniacal smile and pointy hair made the Major look like a cartoon villain. "If I physically have to pin you to the ground and force your mouth open, you will eat them. Do you hear me, McKay?"
"They could have citrus!" Rodney blurted out, because cartoon villain or not, Sheppard had passed intimidating and was rapidly approaching terrifying, and that wasn't good in someone trained to kill. Rodney liked his internal organs right where they were, thank you very much. Still, he wasn't eating live bugs. He drew the line at creepy-crawlies. "I could die. I could be allergic to them and I could die. I'm not eating them."
The Major worked his jaw for a long moment, clenching and releasing in time with the vein throbbing at his temple.
Rodney was saved from the impending violence by the arrival of another group of guards. Standing in the middle of the group was Teyla and Ford, not looking particularly anxious. Rodney knew a life-saver when he saw one. "Teyla! Major Sheppard's being unreasonable. He wants me to eat bugs! Live bugs! They could be poisonous for all we know."
Teyla raised an eyebrow, looking a little confused. "They are a regional delicacy. Are you sure you don't want to try them?"
"Yeah, they taste like--" Ford paused for a moment, then he grinned widely. "You know those Indonesian candies that Sukinahta brought with him? The coffee ones? They taste like that, except squishy."
"I tried to tell him," Sheppard said wearily.
Rodney looked from Ford to the Major suspiciously. They'd been gathered up by the guards and separated, with him and Sheppard steered into this tent and told through mime -- mime! -- to eat the caterpillars. The radios hadn't worked with the background magnetic interference, so they hadn't been able to contact the others. There was no way that Sheppard and Ford could have correlated their stories.
He looked again at the burnt orange terracotta plate, and the squirming mass of green caterpillars. "Really?"
"But you might be allergic," Sheppard said as he stood up.
"Well, yes, but--"
Sheppard had the nerve to ignore him and walk over to Teyla to quietly ask, "We're free to go?"
"You were always free to leave." Teyla frowned slightly and glanced at the big men with the big spears. "Your guides were waiting for you enjoy a meal before showing you around the village."
"Guides," Sheppard said. "With the great, big, pointed weapons. Of course."
"There are bears," Ford said, like it was the coolest thing ever.
Teyla nodded. "They are armed so that they can protect visitors who do not know the dangers of their world."
"Major." Rodney couldn't stop looking at the plate. The edges of it must have been greased because the caterpillars kept losing their footing and sliding back to the pile in the centre. "Do you think we could take some of those back with us? For the xenobiologists, of course."
"Do you want to carry them back to the Stargate?"
"No." Rodney quickly shook his head, because the only thing worse than bugs on a plate, was bugs crawling through his backpack and over his MREs. "I was thinking you could--"
"Not a chance, McKay."
Fandom: SGA
Pairing: None, really.
Rating: G
Summary: Not all of the tribal rituals are about sex. Really.
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me. I'm not pretending this has any point other than a cheap laugh.
Notes: Thanks to
celli and seperis for playing audience. Any mistakes are mine.And Sometimes The Aliens Don't Make Them Have Sex
Rodney looked at the plate in front of him. Plate was a generous term for something that looked like the long lost ancestor of terracotta, roughly flattened into a random shape. There was no way he was doing this.
"I'm not doing this," he said out loud, in case Major Sheppard hadn't understood what his first five 'no's meant. "No way, no how."
The Major's smiled stretched uncomfortably and he bared his teeth in something close to a grimace. "You don't have a choice, McKay. Remember the nice guards with lots of sharp, pointy spears?"
"That's what guns are for. That's why you bring the guns. So I don't have to do *this*," Rodney waved his hands wildly, trying to point to the plate, the wide tent, and the tribe Elders with long white beards and long yellow teeth. Oh, and the nice guards standing at each exit. "You can't force me."
"I beg to differ," Sheppard said calmly, the tension all in his bony, clenched fists and tight smirk. "It's a ritual, it's an honor, and if I had to do it, you have to do it."
"You're the team leader!"
"So?"
"You were taking one for the team. And I for one respect that daring level of self-sacrifice, and if you keel over from food poisoning, I will tell Elizabeth how brave and noble your death was, but there is no way I'm eating those!" Rodney punctuated his point by stabbing a finger towards the plate, towards the green, hairy caterpillars crawling across it, their tiny little suctiony-legs grappling over each others backs as they made a living, moving pile of *delicacies*. "No. Way."
Sheppard's eyes went so wide Rodney could see the whites all around the irises. The mad stare combined with the maniacal smile and pointy hair made the Major look like a cartoon villain. "If I physically have to pin you to the ground and force your mouth open, you will eat them. Do you hear me, McKay?"
"They could have citrus!" Rodney blurted out, because cartoon villain or not, Sheppard had passed intimidating and was rapidly approaching terrifying, and that wasn't good in someone trained to kill. Rodney liked his internal organs right where they were, thank you very much. Still, he wasn't eating live bugs. He drew the line at creepy-crawlies. "I could die. I could be allergic to them and I could die. I'm not eating them."
The Major worked his jaw for a long moment, clenching and releasing in time with the vein throbbing at his temple.
Rodney was saved from the impending violence by the arrival of another group of guards. Standing in the middle of the group was Teyla and Ford, not looking particularly anxious. Rodney knew a life-saver when he saw one. "Teyla! Major Sheppard's being unreasonable. He wants me to eat bugs! Live bugs! They could be poisonous for all we know."
Teyla raised an eyebrow, looking a little confused. "They are a regional delicacy. Are you sure you don't want to try them?"
"Yeah, they taste like--" Ford paused for a moment, then he grinned widely. "You know those Indonesian candies that Sukinahta brought with him? The coffee ones? They taste like that, except squishy."
"I tried to tell him," Sheppard said wearily.
Rodney looked from Ford to the Major suspiciously. They'd been gathered up by the guards and separated, with him and Sheppard steered into this tent and told through mime -- mime! -- to eat the caterpillars. The radios hadn't worked with the background magnetic interference, so they hadn't been able to contact the others. There was no way that Sheppard and Ford could have correlated their stories.
He looked again at the burnt orange terracotta plate, and the squirming mass of green caterpillars. "Really?"
"But you might be allergic," Sheppard said as he stood up.
"Well, yes, but--"
Sheppard had the nerve to ignore him and walk over to Teyla to quietly ask, "We're free to go?"
"You were always free to leave." Teyla frowned slightly and glanced at the big men with the big spears. "Your guides were waiting for you enjoy a meal before showing you around the village."
"Guides," Sheppard said. "With the great, big, pointed weapons. Of course."
"There are bears," Ford said, like it was the coolest thing ever.
Teyla nodded. "They are armed so that they can protect visitors who do not know the dangers of their world."
"Major." Rodney couldn't stop looking at the plate. The edges of it must have been greased because the caterpillars kept losing their footing and sliding back to the pile in the centre. "Do you think we could take some of those back with us? For the xenobiologists, of course."
"Do you want to carry them back to the Stargate?"
"No." Rodney quickly shook his head, because the only thing worse than bugs on a plate, was bugs crawling through his backpack and over his MREs. "I was thinking you could--"
"Not a chance, McKay."
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-09-12 05:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-12 08:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-12 12:49 pm (UTC)Great fun!
no subject
Date: 2005-09-13 12:12 am (UTC)I liked Ford. He had a way of really enjoying the "Boys' Own" Adventurey spirit of the whole thing.
no subject
Date: 2005-09-12 04:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-13 09:51 am (UTC)You know, that instantly became my favourite Ford line (that I've written) ever. I'm so glad other people loved it too.
no subject
Date: 2005-09-12 08:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-13 09:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-12 09:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-13 09:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-13 10:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-12 10:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-13 09:56 am (UTC)tryprotect it, if you really want to.no subject
Date: 2005-09-12 11:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-13 10:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-13 04:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-13 09:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-13 07:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-13 09:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-22 02:27 pm (UTC)