Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard/Lime Jello
Warning: AU crack!fic. No mpreg was created in the making of this fic. This is the sequel to "The Fiendish Plan of Dr. Macabre."
For: sga_flashfic's "Shark" Challenge.
Disclaimer: Oh, god! Every single word: FICTION!
[Um. Hi again.
So... it's been bought to my attention that some of you have a problem with the whole lime jello suggestion I made at the end of the story "The Fiendish Plan of Dr. Macabre." Well, see, the thing about that is, and it's probably my fault for not making it clearer. But, um--]
Rodney: "Oh for God's sake! We're going to be here all night at this rate, and I have better things to do!" He turns and glares at the readers. "You're all morons! Did you not read the Rules of Storytime? Because the whole lime jello thing was the author's pathetic attempt to goad a few of you into meta-ing her work. But, clearly, she'd have better luck if she gave a bunch of word processors to wild monkeys when it comes to--"
John: "Mmmmm. Wild monkeys."
Rodney's rant immediately derails, as he turns his glare on John. "What is with your freakish fascination with monkeys!"
John pokes a finger into the mound of lime jello resting in the hollow of his bellybutton, and idly swirls it around. "I don't give a shit about monkeys, actually, but you weren't showing any signs of wrapping it up, and I think my jello is melting." He brings his finger to his mouth and licks it. "I could use some help here, Rodney."
Rodney crosses his arms and sniffs disdainfully. "That's not even hot. Seriously. It's the antithesis of hot. You might as well cover yourself in, I don't know, sand! That's how unhot it is. Now if you'd covered yourself in mango! That's what I call food porn." Rodney nods decisively.
John stares at Rodney, finger still in his mouth. A small trickle of melted jello runs down the side of his stomach and into the polarbear-skin rug he's lying on.
A cricket chirps.
John pulls the finger out of his mouth with a loud pop. "Let me get this straight. You invented about ten squillion gadgets while we were arch-nemeses. You engineered genetically superior sharks, with exceeding cool flip-top heads. You hollowed out a moon and gave it artifical gravity. Then, for an encore, you actually invented immortality. And in your copious spare time, you come up with new sex acts to please me on a daily basis." John narrows his eyes at Rodney. "And yet you have seriously never bothered to cure your citrus allergy?"
Rodney goes bright pink and won't meet John's gaze. "Well..."
John cracks up; the jello on his stomach wobbles dangerously and little melt-runnels spill down his sides in twisty green riverlets, causing a John-shaped stain to grow on the rug.
Rodney: "...I've been busy!"
"Rodney!" says John. He throws a pillow at Rodney's head. "There is no citrus in lime jello! It says so right on the packet: 100% artifically coloured and flavoured! So get your ass over here, before I get bored and invite the readers in to lick stuff this off me."
Rodney: "Oh, please! As though I'd ever let that happen!" He takes a shoe-sized gadget out of his pocket, points it at the quantum-audience threshold and clicks the big red button...
...and he and John get smaller and smaller and then wink out of view.
A tumbleweed blows through the empty space.
[*The author slowly turns to look at her readers. She tries out a smile.*
Whoa! I didn't even know he could do that! Ooops.
*She eyes the thwarted readers...*
--who are staring back at her with the fury of a thousand suns--
*...and, then, with a turn of speed worthy of a genetically engineered shark, she flees.*]