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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
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Published:
2020-11-04
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889
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1/1
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17
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1,010

Support Personnel

Summary:

Disclaimer: Do you think anything this poorly written would be on TV? Didn't think so. So you can be pretty confident they don't let me own squat.
Rated: G - super-kid-safe
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: McKay/ Sheppard-no slash (yet)
Spoilers?? : Only if you have never seen so much as a second of any episode. In which case???
Warning:? Supersweet Christmas fic. Watch your blood sugar.
Archive: Here - yeh. Elsewhere? If you feel the need - please ask first.
Submitted through the Makebelieve_YG mailing list.

Work Text:

Support Personnel
by Darklady

"If you're going to wish me..." Rodney McKay glared up at the man standing in the middle of his doorway. The mad man who had foolishly come between him and his first cup of coffee. The suicidally brave lunatic who had...

"Not a chance, McKay..."

... because I told you I don't..." McKay's tongue stumbled to a stop, the intel from his ears having finally made it thought the processing queue of his pre-coffee brain. "No?"

"You've made your opinions very clear." A closed cup of coffee materialized in Rodney's hand. Which cleared his vision slightly. Enough to identify the terrifying look of energy and anticipation animating John Sheppard's features.

"Christmas is just a superstitious remnant of..."

Sheppard kept on. "So I assume you are not taking the day off."

Even though the rest of the base was. Elizabeth Weir having declared a general holiday in recognition of the date and the even-more-festive return of the Daedalus with fresh supplies.

"Well..."

"So, since Elizabeth *is*...."

Taking the day off. Sheppard's meaning was clear. Weir and most of the command crew had decamped with Teyla to the mainland for a serious day-long dinner party. With presents. The Athosians might have no cultural knowledge of Christmas, but they knew a good excuse for a party. Rodney McKay *had* been planing on joining them - his opinions of Christmas being vastly overweighted by his opinions of Athosian food.

Anyone who willingly deprived themselves of pit-roasted near-goose with almost-cranberry sauce should have their Mensa card publicly burned. And their yellow map pin dematerialized by the next expanding event horizon. For starters.

Sheppard had Rodney by the arm and was dragging him down the hall. "... You are the senior civilian on base."

Well yes. Rodney's brain ran an unrequested audit. He was, just now. But that didn't mean he suddenly had *duties*. Elizabeth was on the mainland, not on the far side of the uncontactable galaxy, so unless the Wraith were attacking *very* *very* *quietly* and he just hadn't seen the memo...

"Which justifies this unwarranted assault in what way?"

Sheppard had stuffed him in a transporter and was dialing. The landing bay address. Which was good, since once Rodney had crushed this delusion that Sheppard had about his (Rodney) giving up his *day off* then he (Sheppard) could apologize by flying him ( Rodney ) straight over to the mainland. In time for sorta-salmon and bagels.

(The memo with the proposed menu he had looked over. For which read memorized.)

"Daedalus brought in some new technicians."

"And again with the question... this justifies the usurpation of my infinitely valuable time that could be better used almost anywhere else... how? Because even your trained gorillas have to be able to manage the rings. I mean, they just have to *stand* there and..."

They were at the main deck. Rodney had to pick up the pace a bit to keep Sheppard within snarking range. Which made him all the more determined to do so, as the uncalled for exercise gave him one more thing to complain about.

Sheppard ignored his entirely valid complaints. He even had the brass to *grin* . "One of these particular arrivals is not military. I need to hand her over to the *civilian* authority."

Scientist? Rodney clicked down the mental list. They were scheduled for two botanists and a hematologist. Neither of which he had bothered to learn the names of ( as they were Beckett's problem) and both of which had been at the welcome party the night before. (One female, none blond. Again with the no need to learn names.) So unless SGC had by some miracle of unprecedented intelligence managed to send him a blond- particle physicist - Sam Carter-clone with a kink for borderline Aspberger cases with receding hairlines? Which as that scored lower in probability than the Wraith turning vegetarian and opening a chain of all-night Sushi bars?

"Since I trust even the squishy science types have at least evolved to the point of standing upright..."

Sheppard's grin had expanded to the range technically classified as `shit eating.

"These haven't."

`What!?!' Rodney was not certain if he had said that out loud - or simply *thought* it loudly enough to be registered back in Colorado. But either way it was swamped by the flash and hum of ring-down.

When the light cleared, Sheppard was unlatching a large blue case. Inside were two large calico cats.

"Official Atlantis Station resident Rodent Control Engineers." Sheppard checked tags, then lifted one onto his shoulder. He urged the other towards McKay. "So? You going to accept your new personnel?"

McKay had his nose buried in fur. "She's assigned to my departmentally. No. To me. Exclusively!"

"No argument. Weir brought her in for you. " Sheppard's smile grew ( and this violated several laws of matter ) even wider. "Merry Christmas, Rodney."

Rodney's eyes were watering. Maybe not entirely from allergies. (Although he was going to have to check with Beckett about the antihistamine supply. "Bless you. Everyone."

*********

And thereafter he - McKay - kept the Spirit of Christmas. OK. So her name was just Christmas. But he kept her very well indeed.

end this part