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wip_amnesty: Cross-Purposes (Rodney/Teyla)
Feb. 3rd, 2006 07:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
trinityofoneAnd alas, alack, here lies my one poor attempt at hetfic. There are bits of this that I still really like (Rodney's Theory of Women--oh yes), but it just never gelled. Also, I kept feeling like Sheppard was mad at me.
Cross-Purposes
I.
If someone were to ask (which they wouldn’t) Teyla would admit to having fantasized about her teammates.
Well, not fantasized--the word bears connotations either too pure or too base. “Entertained thoughts” is probably more accurate, or--yes. Considered.
She has considered her teammates and what it would be like, if.
Colonel Sheppard was the first, of course--though he was Major Sheppard then. And if someone were to press her to be honest (which they haven’t) then Teyla would admit that it was with Sheppard that her considerations most closely brushed the realm of fantasy. She thought she felt something, in those first few days and weeks and months of getting to know him, something that meant they had a connection. He trusted her, didn’t talk down to her, fought with her and lost with at least some semblance of grace. He was charming and brave, a good leader and a good friend, and he was everything, everything, that she still wants to believe she wants.
But that connection, that initial feeling of sameness, of the drawing of like to like...that connection is gone.
(She thinks that, like so many things, she lost it to the Wraith. Lost it sitting in a puddlejumper on a dying planet, under the eyes of an old friend, under the oppressive weight of all the people they could not, would not save.)
Teyla considered Sheppard for her soul; Aiden touched her heart. He was young--far too young for her, and not only in terms of age. But there was a sweetness about him, a lightness of spirit that moved her, that took her back to a better place and a better time. She liked to imagine that being with him would effect some sort of transference: a penny of innocence for a pound of experience. That being with him would help her forget the weight she carries, if only for a little while.
And perhaps there is a bit of fantasy in that, too.
Ronon is sex.
She is not denying it. This pull she feels, it is not of the spirit or of the heart. It comes straight from her groin and that...baseness, yes, makes it both the easiest and the most difficult to ignore.
She is going to keep ignoring it, for a little while longer.
Because while no one has ever described Teyla as shy (and they won’t) and no one has ever thought of Teyla as passive (and they never will), she knows from experience that considering is one thing, but acting is something else entirely.
Teyla has never even considered Rodney McKay.
II.
In Rodney’s opinion, there are four types of women.
Now, he’s not trying to be sexist here--just scientific; he has groupings for men, too. (Group A: Men who might, on occasion, be worth listening to. Group B: Everyone else.) He likes categories--order out of chaos, something he doesn’t get much of in this world. Especially when dating’s involved.
So. Four types.
Type 1: Women he’s not attracted to.
Enough said.
Type 2: Women he’s very attracted to, but probably doesn’t stand a chance with.
Now this is fun. Fun: not a word most people would apply to almost certain rejection, but Rodney’s not most people. He loves a challenge. And the distant odds take so much pressure off; if he doesn’t have a chance, he doesn’t have to worry about saying the right thing, about analyzing every act expression gesture. He can be his uncensored self--without fear, without doubt. Hell, he can even flirt.
Which was working great with Samantha Carter...until she had to go and actually, gulp, show some interest. Knocking her into...
Type 3: Women he’s attracted to who might actually be attracted to him too oh my God oh my God fuck.
And here’s where he loses it. The ability to banter, or be his own unique brand of charming, or even form a coherent sentence. Gone. Which means that while he’s gotten some great sex from Type 2s who didn’t really like him all that much, the 3s--who may have actually liked him, God he hopes they really truly liked him--aren’t ever people he’s capable of maintaining a relationship with. The awkwardness is insurmountable; or at least, he’s never met anyone willing to give him the time to mount them. Er, it.
Then there’s Type 4.
Type 4 women are so far out of his league it’s not even funny.
Teyla’s a Type 4.
III.
It’s all going really well until Teyla takes off her shirt. Because it’s then that Rodney starts to laugh.
What starts as a little nervous giggle quickly--and to his horror--blossoms into hysterical, stomach-clenching, tears-streaming-down-his-face laughter. Teyla raises her eyebrow in surprise, and of course, that just sets him off more. Because there she is, doing her cool-calm-collected alien thing, and also, hey, there are her nipples.
They’re really nice nipples. Rodney had vague but exciting plans for them. Too bad he’s going to pass out from lack of oxygen before he can get around to any of it.
“Is something wrong, Doctor McKay?” Teyla asks, and okay, not helping.
“Yes, just give me a--but seriously, don’t call me doctor when you’re--sorry, just one more--I think I need to sit down.”
Luckily, there’s a bed. His bed, familiar orthopedic mattress. And thank God they’re not in Teyla’s quarters because he knows there are candles in there, and like, incense--
And again.
When his vision clears, Teyla is standing in front of him, holding out a glass of water. She’s put her shirt back on.
Oh. Damn.
“Drink,” she says.
He takes the cup, tastes cool water with a slight metallic tinge. Wishes he could wash away the blush he knows is spreading like wildfire across his cheeks.
She sits down next to him on the bed. “Perhaps,” she says, “this is not such a good idea.”
IV.
“I think it’s a great idea,” Sheppard says. He’s smiling--a wicked, wicked, mischievous devil smile. He couples it with bouncing a little on the balls of his feet.
“Are you insane?” Rodney says. “It’s the worst idea ever! Clearly, you’ve been hit in the head with the sticks too many times--which, guess what, is just further evidence as to why this? Worst idea ever!”
“Aww, c’mon,” Sheppard says. “Teyla thinks it’s a good idea.”
“Actually--” Teyla starts.
“Great!” Sheppard says, slapping them both on the back. “I’ll see you crazy kids later! Try not to kill each other, okay?” He bounds out of the room and Rodney has to bite his tongue to keep from shouting You’re not the boss of me! at his retreating back.
He looks at Teyla. Teyla looks at something just above her own left shoulder, which Rodney suspects is her polite Athosian way of rolling her eyes.
“You do realize,” Rodney says, “that he’s a madman and he’s out of control.”
She shoots him Patient Look #468.
“Therefore,” Rodney says, “we are under absolutely no obligation to follow him or his twisted little schemes.
“Um,” he says, after another moment where he’s still receiving nothing more than The Look. “Unless you want to.”
“I do not wish to,” Teyla says, and hey, when she puts it that way, it’s kind of insulting. “But,” she adds, squaring her shoulders--Rodney would say she was doing an excellent Sidney Carton if she had any way of knowing who that was, “I think perhaps we should.”
Rodney already knows he’s gonna cave, but he goes through the motions anyway. He rolls his eyes. Sighs hugely. Flexes his fingers and lets them fall dramatically to his sides. Growls, “Fine,” out of the corner of his mouth. But all the posturing’s not for nothing, because the extra few seconds have been enough to give him a truly awesome idea.
“However,” he says, “if we’re going to do this, it’s gotta be an even trade. You get to torture me for an hour every day? Well, I get equal time.” He bounces on his feet, unconsciously mimicking Sheppard. “We’ll see who crumbles first.”
“Yes. We shall see.” Teyla’s voice reveals nothing but calm acceptance. But her flashing eyes say different.
Oh, it is so on!
V.
“Ow, ow, get off of me! Get off! That’s a--ow--very delicate area, and, um, yeah. Ow.”
Teyla pulls herself upright, a single liquid motion. She stands, ready and waiting. After a moment she says, “Doctor McKay?”
“Yes?”
“Are you in need of assistance?”
“What, me? No. No, just, uh, admiring the ceiling. Great ceiling in here. The Ancients, interesting architects. What d’you think that’s made of?”
Teyla reaches out a hand. Rodney takes it, marveling at the dryness of her skin. His own palms are slick with sweat. Which is possibly what caused one of his sticks to fly out of his hand, arc across the room, and break a sconce...Yeah. He likes that theory.
Sitting up makes him achy in places he didn’t even know could ache. Standing makes it worse. He’s reminded of his usual reaction to athletic people: You do this for fun? Were you dropped as a child? Since coming to the Pegasus Galaxy he’s...okay, he hasn’t revised that opinion at all. Running is something you do when people with guns or laser weapons or very sharp sticks are chasing you. Anyone who does it for kicks is friggin’ nuts.
“Perhaps that is enough for today,” Teyla says.
Yes! says Rodney’s body. Towel, 100% thrown in! To the commissary, hooray!
No way! says Rodney’s pride. You are a manly man at the height of your manliness! Never give up, never surrender! And other assorted clichés!
Then Rodney’s sense of fair play (yes, he does have one) says, Ahem.
“If you think,” says Rodney’s mouth, “that I am going to let you off this easily when it’s my turn, then you are sorely, sorely mistaken. And, uh,” he squeezes his back, “believe me, I am an expert on sore.”
“All right,” says Teyla, falling back into her stance, “then let us begin again.”
“Ow,” says Rodney.
*
“Okay,” Rodney says, dropping the object in her lap. “This is a computer. A computer. Got it?”
“Thank you,” Teyla says--and oh my God, is that sarcasm? “I was never quite able to pick that up. Living in this city for two years.”
It is. Wow, Rodney’s kind of impressed. But anyway, not the point. “You open it by--oh.”
She’s got the laptop humming, is accessing the start-up menu and opening...
“Colonel Sheppard taught me how to play Minesweeper,” she says, and of course Sheppard taught her how to play Minesweeper. The manslut.
“All right, that’s great,” Rodney says, sitting down beside her and trying to wrestle the laptop back. Teyla’s frowning at the grid, clicking away. “But there are actual important things--”
“I won,” Teyla says.
Rodney blinks at the screen. “Well of course you won, you’re on the smallest possible size and the easiest possible level! A monkey could win.”
Teyla just looks at him. Rodney realizes that she has no idea what a monkey is.
“Argh!” he says. “This is impossible! We have no common points of reference! There’s simply no way for us to communicate!”
VI.
“Fuck me,” Teyla says.
“Oh God,” Rodney says, but it’s muffled against her neck. He can feel her quickening pulse beating into his mouth. “Now,” he says, and it’s not a question. Still she says, “Yes. Now.”
They should go back to the bed. But Rodney’s not so fond of the bed right now. What he is fond of is the warm patch of skin showing through the ties of Teyla’s blouse. The soft rise of her breast and he lowers his mouth, Teyla’s hand snaking downward, fumbling at his fly. Half-heartedly he says, “Wait”--they should take it slow, really enjoy this, this--
Her hand closes over him and he bucks upward, his mouth against her mouth. Kissing, he tries to return the favor and open her BDUs, but she swats his hands away, impatient. Slithers out of them, and then she’s reaching for his hand again, guiding him, and he’s sliding inside her, wet and hot and real.
“Teyla,” he says, and then he flicks out his thumb, making her arch and moan, utter some wordless cry--thank God it’s wordless, because he doesn’t think he could take it if she said anything remotely like his name.
She raises her hips and he removes his hand only after promising it that it’s soon going to get to cup and squeeze her ass, lift her up so that he can thrust-- So that he can drive home and lock them together in perfect, silent unity.
And then somehow, I would have explained how they got from Part III to Part VI, and from Part V to Part III. But since it was supposed to involve a slow seduction involving bonding over stick fighting and computer programming, and I actually know more about the former than the latter (which is to say, "Teyla looks hot doing it. So does John"--IOW, nothing), the whole thing sort of sputtered and died. Also, I seem to have lost the ability to write het sex in any way that's the least bit believable or erotic. And Sheppard's still mad at me.
So RIP, Rodney/Teyla story. I will still do backflips if there's ever even an INKLING of you on the show.
Cross-Purposes
I.
If someone were to ask (which they wouldn’t) Teyla would admit to having fantasized about her teammates.
Well, not fantasized--the word bears connotations either too pure or too base. “Entertained thoughts” is probably more accurate, or--yes. Considered.
She has considered her teammates and what it would be like, if.
Colonel Sheppard was the first, of course--though he was Major Sheppard then. And if someone were to press her to be honest (which they haven’t) then Teyla would admit that it was with Sheppard that her considerations most closely brushed the realm of fantasy. She thought she felt something, in those first few days and weeks and months of getting to know him, something that meant they had a connection. He trusted her, didn’t talk down to her, fought with her and lost with at least some semblance of grace. He was charming and brave, a good leader and a good friend, and he was everything, everything, that she still wants to believe she wants.
But that connection, that initial feeling of sameness, of the drawing of like to like...that connection is gone.
(She thinks that, like so many things, she lost it to the Wraith. Lost it sitting in a puddlejumper on a dying planet, under the eyes of an old friend, under the oppressive weight of all the people they could not, would not save.)
Teyla considered Sheppard for her soul; Aiden touched her heart. He was young--far too young for her, and not only in terms of age. But there was a sweetness about him, a lightness of spirit that moved her, that took her back to a better place and a better time. She liked to imagine that being with him would effect some sort of transference: a penny of innocence for a pound of experience. That being with him would help her forget the weight she carries, if only for a little while.
And perhaps there is a bit of fantasy in that, too.
Ronon is sex.
She is not denying it. This pull she feels, it is not of the spirit or of the heart. It comes straight from her groin and that...baseness, yes, makes it both the easiest and the most difficult to ignore.
She is going to keep ignoring it, for a little while longer.
Because while no one has ever described Teyla as shy (and they won’t) and no one has ever thought of Teyla as passive (and they never will), she knows from experience that considering is one thing, but acting is something else entirely.
Teyla has never even considered Rodney McKay.
II.
In Rodney’s opinion, there are four types of women.
Now, he’s not trying to be sexist here--just scientific; he has groupings for men, too. (Group A: Men who might, on occasion, be worth listening to. Group B: Everyone else.) He likes categories--order out of chaos, something he doesn’t get much of in this world. Especially when dating’s involved.
So. Four types.
Type 1: Women he’s not attracted to.
Enough said.
Type 2: Women he’s very attracted to, but probably doesn’t stand a chance with.
Now this is fun. Fun: not a word most people would apply to almost certain rejection, but Rodney’s not most people. He loves a challenge. And the distant odds take so much pressure off; if he doesn’t have a chance, he doesn’t have to worry about saying the right thing, about analyzing every act expression gesture. He can be his uncensored self--without fear, without doubt. Hell, he can even flirt.
Which was working great with Samantha Carter...until she had to go and actually, gulp, show some interest. Knocking her into...
Type 3: Women he’s attracted to who might actually be attracted to him too oh my God oh my God fuck.
And here’s where he loses it. The ability to banter, or be his own unique brand of charming, or even form a coherent sentence. Gone. Which means that while he’s gotten some great sex from Type 2s who didn’t really like him all that much, the 3s--who may have actually liked him, God he hopes they really truly liked him--aren’t ever people he’s capable of maintaining a relationship with. The awkwardness is insurmountable; or at least, he’s never met anyone willing to give him the time to mount them. Er, it.
Then there’s Type 4.
Type 4 women are so far out of his league it’s not even funny.
Teyla’s a Type 4.
III.
It’s all going really well until Teyla takes off her shirt. Because it’s then that Rodney starts to laugh.
What starts as a little nervous giggle quickly--and to his horror--blossoms into hysterical, stomach-clenching, tears-streaming-down-his-face laughter. Teyla raises her eyebrow in surprise, and of course, that just sets him off more. Because there she is, doing her cool-calm-collected alien thing, and also, hey, there are her nipples.
They’re really nice nipples. Rodney had vague but exciting plans for them. Too bad he’s going to pass out from lack of oxygen before he can get around to any of it.
“Is something wrong, Doctor McKay?” Teyla asks, and okay, not helping.
“Yes, just give me a--but seriously, don’t call me doctor when you’re--sorry, just one more--I think I need to sit down.”
Luckily, there’s a bed. His bed, familiar orthopedic mattress. And thank God they’re not in Teyla’s quarters because he knows there are candles in there, and like, incense--
And again.
When his vision clears, Teyla is standing in front of him, holding out a glass of water. She’s put her shirt back on.
Oh. Damn.
“Drink,” she says.
He takes the cup, tastes cool water with a slight metallic tinge. Wishes he could wash away the blush he knows is spreading like wildfire across his cheeks.
She sits down next to him on the bed. “Perhaps,” she says, “this is not such a good idea.”
IV.
“I think it’s a great idea,” Sheppard says. He’s smiling--a wicked, wicked, mischievous devil smile. He couples it with bouncing a little on the balls of his feet.
“Are you insane?” Rodney says. “It’s the worst idea ever! Clearly, you’ve been hit in the head with the sticks too many times--which, guess what, is just further evidence as to why this? Worst idea ever!”
“Aww, c’mon,” Sheppard says. “Teyla thinks it’s a good idea.”
“Actually--” Teyla starts.
“Great!” Sheppard says, slapping them both on the back. “I’ll see you crazy kids later! Try not to kill each other, okay?” He bounds out of the room and Rodney has to bite his tongue to keep from shouting You’re not the boss of me! at his retreating back.
He looks at Teyla. Teyla looks at something just above her own left shoulder, which Rodney suspects is her polite Athosian way of rolling her eyes.
“You do realize,” Rodney says, “that he’s a madman and he’s out of control.”
She shoots him Patient Look #468.
“Therefore,” Rodney says, “we are under absolutely no obligation to follow him or his twisted little schemes.
“Um,” he says, after another moment where he’s still receiving nothing more than The Look. “Unless you want to.”
“I do not wish to,” Teyla says, and hey, when she puts it that way, it’s kind of insulting. “But,” she adds, squaring her shoulders--Rodney would say she was doing an excellent Sidney Carton if she had any way of knowing who that was, “I think perhaps we should.”
Rodney already knows he’s gonna cave, but he goes through the motions anyway. He rolls his eyes. Sighs hugely. Flexes his fingers and lets them fall dramatically to his sides. Growls, “Fine,” out of the corner of his mouth. But all the posturing’s not for nothing, because the extra few seconds have been enough to give him a truly awesome idea.
“However,” he says, “if we’re going to do this, it’s gotta be an even trade. You get to torture me for an hour every day? Well, I get equal time.” He bounces on his feet, unconsciously mimicking Sheppard. “We’ll see who crumbles first.”
“Yes. We shall see.” Teyla’s voice reveals nothing but calm acceptance. But her flashing eyes say different.
Oh, it is so on!
V.
“Ow, ow, get off of me! Get off! That’s a--ow--very delicate area, and, um, yeah. Ow.”
Teyla pulls herself upright, a single liquid motion. She stands, ready and waiting. After a moment she says, “Doctor McKay?”
“Yes?”
“Are you in need of assistance?”
“What, me? No. No, just, uh, admiring the ceiling. Great ceiling in here. The Ancients, interesting architects. What d’you think that’s made of?”
Teyla reaches out a hand. Rodney takes it, marveling at the dryness of her skin. His own palms are slick with sweat. Which is possibly what caused one of his sticks to fly out of his hand, arc across the room, and break a sconce...Yeah. He likes that theory.
Sitting up makes him achy in places he didn’t even know could ache. Standing makes it worse. He’s reminded of his usual reaction to athletic people: You do this for fun? Were you dropped as a child? Since coming to the Pegasus Galaxy he’s...okay, he hasn’t revised that opinion at all. Running is something you do when people with guns or laser weapons or very sharp sticks are chasing you. Anyone who does it for kicks is friggin’ nuts.
“Perhaps that is enough for today,” Teyla says.
Yes! says Rodney’s body. Towel, 100% thrown in! To the commissary, hooray!
No way! says Rodney’s pride. You are a manly man at the height of your manliness! Never give up, never surrender! And other assorted clichés!
Then Rodney’s sense of fair play (yes, he does have one) says, Ahem.
“If you think,” says Rodney’s mouth, “that I am going to let you off this easily when it’s my turn, then you are sorely, sorely mistaken. And, uh,” he squeezes his back, “believe me, I am an expert on sore.”
“All right,” says Teyla, falling back into her stance, “then let us begin again.”
“Ow,” says Rodney.
*
“Okay,” Rodney says, dropping the object in her lap. “This is a computer. A computer. Got it?”
“Thank you,” Teyla says--and oh my God, is that sarcasm? “I was never quite able to pick that up. Living in this city for two years.”
It is. Wow, Rodney’s kind of impressed. But anyway, not the point. “You open it by--oh.”
She’s got the laptop humming, is accessing the start-up menu and opening...
“Colonel Sheppard taught me how to play Minesweeper,” she says, and of course Sheppard taught her how to play Minesweeper. The manslut.
“All right, that’s great,” Rodney says, sitting down beside her and trying to wrestle the laptop back. Teyla’s frowning at the grid, clicking away. “But there are actual important things--”
“I won,” Teyla says.
Rodney blinks at the screen. “Well of course you won, you’re on the smallest possible size and the easiest possible level! A monkey could win.”
Teyla just looks at him. Rodney realizes that she has no idea what a monkey is.
“Argh!” he says. “This is impossible! We have no common points of reference! There’s simply no way for us to communicate!”
VI.
“Fuck me,” Teyla says.
“Oh God,” Rodney says, but it’s muffled against her neck. He can feel her quickening pulse beating into his mouth. “Now,” he says, and it’s not a question. Still she says, “Yes. Now.”
They should go back to the bed. But Rodney’s not so fond of the bed right now. What he is fond of is the warm patch of skin showing through the ties of Teyla’s blouse. The soft rise of her breast and he lowers his mouth, Teyla’s hand snaking downward, fumbling at his fly. Half-heartedly he says, “Wait”--they should take it slow, really enjoy this, this--
Her hand closes over him and he bucks upward, his mouth against her mouth. Kissing, he tries to return the favor and open her BDUs, but she swats his hands away, impatient. Slithers out of them, and then she’s reaching for his hand again, guiding him, and he’s sliding inside her, wet and hot and real.
“Teyla,” he says, and then he flicks out his thumb, making her arch and moan, utter some wordless cry--thank God it’s wordless, because he doesn’t think he could take it if she said anything remotely like his name.
She raises her hips and he removes his hand only after promising it that it’s soon going to get to cup and squeeze her ass, lift her up so that he can thrust-- So that he can drive home and lock them together in perfect, silent unity.
And then somehow, I would have explained how they got from Part III to Part VI, and from Part V to Part III. But since it was supposed to involve a slow seduction involving bonding over stick fighting and computer programming, and I actually know more about the former than the latter (which is to say, "Teyla looks hot doing it. So does John"--IOW, nothing), the whole thing sort of sputtered and died. Also, I seem to have lost the ability to write het sex in any way that's the least bit believable or erotic. And Sheppard's still mad at me.
So RIP, Rodney/Teyla story. I will still do backflips if there's ever even an INKLING of you on the show.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2006-02-03 07:58 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-02-04 01:48 pm (UTC)...
Hee. Now I want to go outside and shout "HETSEX EPIPHANY!" at the top of my lungs. Good thing I have some self-control...
(no subject)
Date: 2006-02-03 08:05 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-02-03 08:11 pm (UTC)gee, I can't imagine why. [/OTPishness]
But seriously, this is pretty interesting and judging by what you have all the steps getting to part VI would have been awesome. *g*
(no subject)
Date: 2006-02-03 08:25 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-02-03 09:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-02-03 09:54 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-02-03 08:39 pm (UTC)also,
alsdffjkasdfjkakk
So RIP, Rodney/Teyla story.
*cries*
I will still do backflips if there's ever even an INKLING of you on the show.
I would definitely try to, but then say *ow* *ow* like Rodney. But I'd lie staring at the TV from my twisted position on the carpet, drooling happily.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-02-03 08:57 pm (UTC)And I shall be joining you in the backflips if they ever allude to this pairing on the show. :)
(no subject)
Date: 2006-02-03 09:25 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-02-03 09:44 pm (UTC)Dis is VERY CUTE. *sniffles* Too bad its been laid to rest.
I would do backflips as well if they were to show some canon interaction between the two.
And Rodney/Teyla stick fighting NEVER gets old, never ever eveeeer. Mwah.
I paticularily giggled at the mindsweeper bit.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-02-03 10:14 pm (UTC)I like your Teyla, though. And Rodney's classifications (although I will say that he's better than most geeks at adding his Type 1 females to his "male" category, and treating them like actual people instead of ignoring them totally. This being my experience of geek males, far too often).
And Rodney's flailing is funny :)
(no subject)
Date: 2006-02-03 11:45 pm (UTC)Anyways, *cries*
I know John can get pissy, but this was good. So good. Also, you do snark like no ones business. *clings to fic*
(no subject)
Date: 2006-02-04 01:43 am (UTC)secondly, I wonder what is in the water that makes Rodney/Teyla or Rodney/Carter the default het pairings of slashers. I just think it's a determined desire to get Rodney laid as often & creatively as possible.
and thirdly, I really liked the bits you posted here (ref: pt. 1 of comment) b/c romcoms that are authentically funny and feature 2 people coming together despite the friction of their differences (mmm, sexy) just rocks in my book. I think I can pair Rodney with everyone b/c when he's in a pairing, it causes conflict (ref: bad with people idea). He matches with Shep the best 'cos of the snark, but with Teyla, it'd be spectacularly hard to make them mesh, which means the stories have to work harder to resolve their fundamental differences. Which is why this story makes me happy, the thought of Rodney and his distinct brand of sexiness sneaking past Teyla's radar, and Rodney not believing he gets to touch this amazing woman.
fourthly, I too would do backflips. Oh yeah.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-02-04 08:10 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-02-04 01:44 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-02-04 09:09 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-02-17 10:29 pm (UTC)Or, make it more real. Rodney is a genius, but like all real geniuses, he's NOT good at every subject. He has his specialties. Perhaps he's set a task that he can't is outside his areas of expertise, and Teyla and he have to muddle through it together?
(no subject)
Date: 2006-02-06 12:51 am (UTC)I'm sorry you didn't finish this one; it had lots of potential.
Oh, and this line cracked me up so hard: “Colonel Sheppard taught me how to play Minesweeper,” she says, and of course Sheppard taught her how to play Minesweeper. The manslut. :D
(no subject)
Date: 2006-02-17 10:25 pm (UTC)I very much liked this from Rodney's POV. His whole list was brilliantly done, really great. I could totally empathise.