Don't worry, the explosion was [mostly] contained.

Calling all science geeks

2009-09-06T15:37:16Z

My latest procrastination method is xkcd.com. It's often hilarious, and though finite, catches you up for a not-yet finite amount of time. Chances are, if you're involved in engineering, comp sci, physics, and even chem, you'll have a few 'get out of my head' moments. Especially when it's time to mock the soft sciences. (And really, what's science about most of those?)

You know it's been forever when...

2009-09-05T22:32:51Z

... you have to google your username to find yourself. Looking at my last posts, they all seem to be apologizing for not posting more. That's rather boring, isn't it? I am out of cookies, so have a random SGA snippet. It's John/Rodney, in some AU academic world that I may or may not have already visited.

"You look suspiciously happy for a man who's supposed to have spent the afternoon writing an exam," John commented as he wandered through the living room, opening his beer and flicking the top at the trashcan next to Rodney's desk.

"Hey!" McKay exclaimed as John missed the trashcan but hit him. "You could have just interrupted a moment of genius! Not that you didn't, because as a genius who thinks all the time I constantly have moments of genius, but some are definitely more important than others!"

In the micro-pause for breath, John slid in, "Exams plus up-to-no-good face. You didn't give them something unsolveable on purpose again, did you?" Unfortunately, he couldn't summon up the energy to be amused when he clearly remembered having to help Rodney grade the damn things because the resident genius had run out of time and John had 'a PhD in something vaguely useful and math related.'

"No, no," Rodney shuddered, "I never realized how stupid they were until I had to grade fifty-six examples of how to break the rules of physics. It's not like any energy can spontaneously appear, so why do they think heat can?"

Rodney would have continued ranting, but John had gotten fixed on the "I had to grade" bit and was glaring enough that even Rodney noticed and switched to, "So how was golf? Is it still thirty degrees out?"

"Nope. It hit the nineties today. Even you can't have missed that it's fall, Mr. I-love-my-lab-with-no-windows."

"Stop it. You know I meant Celsius. You backwards Americans are practically the only civilized nation still using Fahrenheit. And I'm not so sure about the civilized bit. Your hockey players went on strike. That's not civilized. That's just wrong."

Cutting off the beginning of a tirade that was well beyond familiar by now, John said, "You still haven't mentioned what you're doing to the poor souls taking your class this semester."

"Nothing so awful, just a little entertaining, that's all. I'm giving them a very normal problem, just like all the homework examples in their textbooks, that any idiot could memorize the process for. I just won't let them do it in an easy coordinate system. I think I'm going with a Christmas tree light string for the first one."

"What?" There really was no other response. It hadn't been hot enough for heatstroke, right?

"The first dimension will be progression along the strand of lights. The other two, distance from the strand and angle of elevation with respect to a plane parallel to the base of the tree. It's simple really, but they won't be able to just apply their memorized formulas, even with their memorized conversion factors! They must actually think!" Rodney was probably planning more commentary on the sad state of today's students, who only ever bothered to memorize how to solve particular types of things rather than truly understanding things, but John was busy thinking, There is no way in hell I'm helping grade that this time. Not even for a repeat of that 'thank you'.

"Even if I start now?" Rodney asked, then added, "No, I've just learned how to read minds while you were chasing a little white ball around a grass field with some artificial lakes. Just give in," as John had been thinking, was that out loud? Also, if I say yes, will he consider it binding? Like I'm really going to get out of helping anyway.

"Hey, mine's orange! I'm still using up those ridiculously bright ones you gave me as 40th birthday present." John protested, not overly surprised that Rodney could read him so well. Besides, if anyone were going to figure out telepathy, Murphy's Law said it would be the one person who would be most annoyed by hearing the things people thought were too dumb or ridiculous to actually say out loud.

"I heard that!" Rodney said as he shoved John toward the shower.

"You did not," John argued as he allowed himself to be divested of beer and shirt. He was pretty sure he'd ended up with a good deal, even if Rodney made him help grade.

"I know it wasn't nice. You will pay! Why are you still dressed?"

"You threaten me, then want me naked? Such a way with words!"

"Shut up. You love me anyway."

"Maybe you've just beaten me into submission with your telepathic superbrain!"

Rodney turned the water on cold and shoved him into the spray. Unwilling to suffer shrinkage alone, John dragged Rodney in too, then used him as buffer until the water ran warm.

Miss me?

2008-09-14T04:50:43Z

It's been a rather long while since I last was on. As in, dinosaurs may still have been around. Last semester just kind of sucked me in, then I spent the summer away from an internet connection, and presto bammo, nothing posted. I finally have caught up with Atlantis' season 4 and am semi-current on Season 5 (and let me just say, the second half of 4 into the beginning of 5 made for a crazy marathon. Elizabeth's dead! No, she's alive! No, she's an organic replicator! No, she's dead! No, she's back, but as a disembodied computer program!)

Regardless, I owe a massive apology to those of you who've been commenting and friending into a black hole here. I'm sorry! I'm going through and replying to the comments on everything I've got here and collecting anything posted elsewhere and forgotten, so please, have just a little more patience with me if you've lasted this long without writing me off.

Now for what's up (and upcoming): I'm futzing with formatting and tagging, but hopefully should not dreadfully screw up anyone's links to anything. I hope. As for the fic, I've got a few partial things floating around that will get posted when I'm finally happy with them, but I hate dead end WIPs, so they won't be posted unless I'm sure of them. You already knew that story though - you've got harddrives of your own, and I'm sure someone has an unfinished SGA/Days of our Lives crossover buried somewhere (I just hope it never leaves its nice, dusty subfolder).

More later, when I have more idea of what I have and have to do. In case you need cheering up, though, there's now a wii game to help with your aim: Super Pii Pii Brothers! I am still somewhat skeptical as to how this is a profitable business venture, but hey, whatever floats your boat.

Winners in the news!

2008-01-04T17:33:41Z

There've been some real winners making the news recently, whether for total lack of common sense or total lack productive uses of their time. Yes, the only reason I don't fall into the latter category is because I haven't done anything odd enough to warrant media attention. So?

When you've had too much to drink to drive yourself and your 9-year-old home, this is probably not your best bet for how to get there. If Dad was drunk enough to think that was smart, maybe he should've let the kid have the steering wheel, too.

It's one thing to be a couch potato on a Saturday once in a while. Having a couch potato contest in Times Square like these people might be a little bit much. But hey, free recliners!

These people made our local newspaper in one of the tiny 2" blurbs, but I couldn't find the article online (imagine that, with such an important piece of news). You'll have to make do with their website, which demonstrates nothing more than that they have just as much free time as me at work but better post-it note colors.

And finally, the Hamburgler has mad cow disease! (Yes, I do realize that is not an actual news article. See first paragraph relating to productive uses of time.)

Having fun yet?

2008-01-02T17:51:35Z

Now that most of the craziness of the holidays is over and I (along with grumbling employees everywher) am back at work, I figure it's a good time to wish everyone Happy Holidays (and a Happy New Year, but I'm not ridiculously late on that count)! So, Happy Holidays!

But just in case you haven't gotten all the holiday shopping done, or feel that it's time to revert to the rest of the year's tradition of buying gifts for oneself and attempting to write it off on tax forms somehow, check out some of the oddest gift choices ever:

Want a more interesting way to put out the toothpicks for the meat and cheese tray? Try a voodoo doll.

How about paper cups that let you choose your own nose?

Fake out those who aren’t expecting you to show up to an event with arms more covered in tattoos than an entire biker gang put together – use tattoo sleeves.

Tired of stupid complaints and blatant rudeness? Use this sign!

This is actually pretty cool – a calculator prebugged so you can happily listen in on whoever you’ve loaned it to. No more worries about who “borrowed” it but never gave it back.

Love post-its, but need something a little firmer for really stupid people or important tasks? Use these 10 Commandments sticky notes. (Probably works best if you use them on Christian fundamentalists. Or maybe worst, depending on how offended they get. Actually, avoiding fundamentalists of all religions isn’t a bad strategy in general…)

Enjoy!

The. hrngo Files

2007-12-20T20:45:52Z

Title: The .hrngo Files
Author: 9zanite
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: Pg-13
Word Count: 3,700
Summary: For undermistletoe. I had the documentation challenge.

At august_baby27

Some links of interest to show how productive my day was

2007-12-18T23:20:22Z

Because it's almost Christmas, there's not much going on at work and almost no new projects beginning that need the initial hours put in to set up files and start modeling buildings. Without a lot of grunt work to be done, there's practically no work for us interns, so I've now spent two days online, surfing around.

Need to save on your fuel bill? There have got to be better ways than this.

Ever wondered where that bill has been? Track $1 bills around the US and Canada in both currencies.

Some amazing photoshop work – they’re hybrids of some animals you would not expect to work so well. Some are a little too teenaged girl (horse-orca leaping out of the waves? Just no.) but there’s a couple that are really cool, especially some of the bird mergers. Image heavy.

There are some bizarre ideas wandering around out there, some of which are even true.

Be careful about using your Pine-Sol illegally. Not kidding.

Catherine the Great wasn't so beloved, so she got some extremely interesting rumors about her death to replace the moderately amusing truth. The Polish probably spread the rumors, so you know you want to hear about the horse involved...

Seriously, no matter how hard up you are, do not do this with a vacuum cleaner!!!

Swiped from lavvyan

2007-12-18T03:53:46Z

I know most of you friended me for (I'm assuming) the couple of fics I've managed to actually finish (thanks, by the way), so never fear, my contribution for undermistletoe will be here in a couple of days. Since you joined for the stories, though, I don't know you guys at all, and this thing from lavvyan seems like a good way to change that.

So, leave a comment a tell me something about yourself - random fact, odd quirk, favorite color, burning desire to receive a melon baller this Christmas, whatever will give me something to put with your name.

The confusing-ness of closing the fridge door

2007-12-13T02:33:46Z

This evening I finally had time to go through our room refridgerator to chuck the spoiled stuff after my roommate's latest confusion as to the proper position of the fridge door. I'd left at around ten the morning before and wasn't back from my last exam until around ten at night, so my rooommate had the run of the room all day and I have no idea when it got opened initially, but came back to find it wide open. Since my roommate was in the room at the time, I closed the fridge and didn't think much of it until this morning, when I went to put milk in my coffee and found that it was spoiled.

Our room isn't that big, and doesn't have much wall space, so the best place we've found for the tv is on top of the small fridge. The cable hook up to the dvd player connects to the front of the tv, so the cord hangs down and is easy to catch in the door as you close it, but it's also really hard to ignore because something inevitably gets yanked out and the door bounces instead of closing. However, my roommate generally manages to not notice, but the door's barely ajar, I've set it to its coldest setting, and I keep an eye on it because it's not at all uncommon, so usually we're okay. But my roommate, having given up sanity along with sleep for the duration of finals week, apparently left the fridge open most of the day - for no reason, because all the food in there is mine - without even pretending to close it. When I had finished cursing the ruined cup of coffee and asked how long the fridge was open, all I got in response was, "oh. You have time to watch the rest of this season of arrested development with me today, right?"

I just don't get why it's so hard to remember to close the refridgerator. Or acknowledge a question. Or pass intro chem. English majors!

Ranting over, a few interesting things...

Fed up with someone? Disparage them biblically!

Forget about Texas, here in North Carolina, things are done even larger... at least, the 10 Commandments are. My only question is why.

Don't be turned away from this site by the video or large, red proclamation that this is true, just scroll down the page to the directions on how to make your own burger museum... so you can be just like the guy who's keeping them in his basement for 18 years... even twinkies are nasty after that long!

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!

2007-12-11T04:12:32Z

My ethernet cable is broken!!! And to make it worse, it was just a matter of one of the wires snapping, but it snapped right at the edge of the plastic piece that plugs into the computer, where I can't fix it with the chunck of plastic in the way. And there's just no way I'd manage to pry off the plastic without breaking it into more pieces than electrical tape can hold together and still plug in properly. If it were some mysterious thing I couldn't see, I would be perfectly happy calling it a freebie POS cable and buying a new one, but I CAN SEE THE BROKEN WIRE RIGHT THERE!!!!! AND I CAN'T FIX THE WIRE WITHOUT WRECKING THE CABLE!

*grinds teeth together*

So, not such a good day. And complicated by the fact that I have two finals tomorrow and my jaw really hurts from grinding my teeth together constantly. And mooching the common room's wireless works fairly well, if much slower, ... until the damn butterfly on the other side of the world flaps its wings and interrup the connection. Forget the hurricanes - they're causing wireless failure, I swear.

So yes, a little stressed. How are you, world?

Long time, no see, journal

2007-12-09T00:06:36Z

I got woken up this morning to an extremely excited roommate running around the room shoving things into a very large bag followed by the proclamation that the library was now open 24 hours a day, so don't worry if we didn't see each other for a few days. Apparently, my roommate has decided to move into the library. I am quite happy at the prospect of days on end without 7am alarms on the other side of the room.

Anyway, welcome to finals week! Slightly early, actually - undergrad reading period here is the weekend, which they presumably would not make us go to class on anyway. Being the slacking procrastinator that I am, my response is to spend the day on lj. And sleeping, but after 14 hours, even I find that pretty boring.

Good luck to anyone else out there dealing with exams and term papers and the like! Now, take a study break and follow the links to mindless entertainment.

Ever get the feeling your prof has no ideq who you are? Try this! (Actually, don't try it yourself, let the guy in the video do that pesky testing himself.)

Can I borrow this kid for my exams?

Obsessed much?

2007-11-14T01:40:16Z

So, ignoring the fact that I barely have time to not flunk out and hold down my job, I signed up for undermistletoe. Or course you did, Zan, you say.

I have the documentation challenge (apologies to everyone else whose list I saw it on, but niener niener, I put it first choice, so :-P) and may be taking it a little too seriously. Besides happily inventing reports to avoid writing my own formal lab reports due this week, I invented a filing number system to organize fictional reports. I started off only italicizing some of that, but really, the whole phrase seemed to need emphasis.

This isn't obsessed or anything, right?

Zan rants and whines

2007-10-20T17:12:45Z

So this week (and most of the one before it), sucked totally and completely.

There may have been mini-meltdowns, crises of what-am-I-doing-with-my-life?, parental units berating me about finding an internship for the summer (ok, this one is my own fault - I have one offer and another that I'd be guarenteed to get if I submit everything, I just don't like the one I have an offer from and haven't told my parents about the second because they've been pushing so much I oh so maturely can't bring myself to admit its existence and give up the "but McDonald's pays pretty well on the opening/closing shifts!"), and the contemplation of throwing myself off the top of the engineering building (I'm certain they would be able to calculate exactly how much force I exerted on the sidewalk with my landing and analyze whether I'd crack the concrete, er, analyze whether the force of my impact would exceed the allowable stress and determine the plane of failure).

While we're on the topic of falling objects, ever heard the myth that if you drop small change off of a very tall building, you'll kill someone? Never have I ever seen it debunked with so much cultural insensitivity and so little actual physics as here. Go, read, laugh at the stupidity of others. It always cheers me up.

Anyway, Doppleganger = amazing. That is all.

FIC: In Retrospect, This May Have Been A Poor Decision

2007-10-06T23:06:37Z

The alternative was my Greek homework. Hence:

Title: In Retrospect, This May Have Been A Poor Decision
Author: 9zanite
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Word Count: ~1600
Warnings: None, beyond the engineers. Who are absolutely marvelous and would never threaten me with something so hideous as the theft of my DVDs if I failed to say that they were absolutely marvelous. And good at grammar.
Summary: "You're doing that thing where you try to break up with me without actually breaking up with me, aren't you?"

“You’re doing that thing where you try to break up with me without actually breaking up with me, aren’t you?”

****

While most people would have agreed that it was simply a bad idea for him to break up with John Sheppard at all, Rodney had just come to the conclusion that it was a bad idea to attempt to break up with John Sheppard by ignoring him and hoping he went away.

To Rodney’s credit, it wasn’t often that he had anyone to break up with in the first place. It was even rarer that he was the one doing the breaking up. The number of times that occurred may have been a limit equal to zero as n numbers of relationships approached infinity, which was actually only a number with a magnitude on the order of ten to the first. Rodney typically discovered that a relationship was over by dragging himself back from an all-nighter at whichever lab to a half-empty apartment or pile of his stuff dumped outside a locked door, provided the it even got far enough for them to be living together or at least seeing each other frequently enough to leave a few things behind.

Also to his credit, his tactic would have worked on a girl like Katie Brown, who was quiet enough that she wouldn’t have picked a fight over his actions and nice enough to publicly blame Rodney’s work habits in a way that would make them sound like a legitimate reason to discontinue their dating when she was well aware that her boyfriend was merely being a chickenshit afraid of actual commitment.

But the thing about John was that he just didn’t seem to notice. He already came and dragged Rodney off when he wanted to hang out, understood that when Rodney was working, he paid no attention to distractions like the passage of time, important events he was required to attend, or people he found distracting, and recognized that Rodney often displayed awful social skills that simply had to be worked around because there was no point in trying to change the scientist now.

Rodney holing himself up in his lab for days, skipping one team night, two training sessions, and enough showers to make even the French chemist wrinkle his nose resulted in John radioing about a pre-mission briefing Rodney was late for, then waylaying him as he left the transporter and forcing him to eat and sleep. In retrospect, the fact that it was 0300 should have given it away.

Rodney claiming to be much too busy to accompany Sheppard to the mainland only led to Radek showing up an hour later with the news that a jumper was having a small, intermittent problem with the drive pods’ response to slight course adjustments and that only Rodney would be able to find the responsible control crystals. Rodney had simply assumed that Radek was being sarcastic until he found himself on a test flight to the mainland with Sheppard and a perfectly functioning puddlejumper.

Skipping a dinner John had specifically informed him of not for any important or even unimportant crisis in the labs but to do his laundry just resulted in John bringing leftovers and a James Bond movie over later in the evening.

However, Sheppard had apparently realized that something was up and had been waiting for Rodney to deal with it or share. And now, when Rodney had just about given up on the whole idea (he wasn’t even certain of why he had decided he needed to break up with Sheppard anyway, but it had seemed important two weeks ago), the pilot had decided it was time to press the issue.

He’d opened with the seemingly innocuous, “Hey, Rodney, what’s up?” The greeting may have been ordinary, but the tone had not conveyed Sheppard’s usual carefree levity.

“Nothing. Well, nothing other than the usual idiocy in the labs. And possibly Kavanaugh, because he ruined one of Zelenka’s simulations and I’m pretty sure Radek’s happy to either use him as shark bait or string him up on that flagpole the marines insisted on bringing. Why?” Technically, nothing was up. Rodney had pretty much figured out that he’d spent the last two weeks being an idiot and it wasn’t worth the missed meals. Not to mention the missed John.

“You’ve been pretty busy, that’s all,” John had lazily drawled from his sprawl across Rodney’s bed. “I wasn’t expecting you for another hour at least.” John’s voice had again been a little too tight for the small talk to be genuine.

“Well, I’m a very busy man. Of course I’m need on all sorts of projects. Also, Kavanaugh may have gotten even stupider. Radek had better not give him any brain damage or he’ll start making trained monkeys look brilliant.”

The lame Kavanaugh joke had failed to bring even the barest hint of a smile to Sheppard’s face. This was way beyond not good. Not quite in the realm of “what do you mean you can’t shut down the superweapon about to overload” bad, but so little was.

“You’ve been kind of weird lately.” No, nowhere near any realm covered by “good” at all. “So, what’s going on, Rodney?”

Rodney had managed to stammer out a negative with a poor imitation of his normal bluster, which was when Sheppard had decided to demonstrate just how freakishly well he understood Rodney sometimes with his comment on Rodney’s break up tactic.

“No! Well, sort of, um, but no! At least, not really!”

Sheppard just sighed and rubbed at his face with one hand. Now that Rodney was looking closely, John looked tired, sporting some impressive shadows under his eyes and the tired, stressed expression Rodney had only seen on days where everything went to hell in a hand basket and there was absolutely nothing Sheppard could do to fix it. It was the look that made Rodney work to and want to pull miracles out of thin air and toothpicks just because John Sheppard should never, ever look so defeated. In this case, it also made Rodney feel like a total shit.

“I’m sorry.” Apparently, it could also make Rodney give one of the few genuine, spontaneous apologies he’d ever made.

“Why, Rodney?” Why what? Why is he sorry? Why did he do this in the first place? Really, Sheppard should be more specific. Rodney said none of this, though, for once realizing that smartass comments wouldn’t make this conversation any better.

After a moment of silence, Sheppard seemed to realize that this was going to be like pulling teeth. “Why did you decide that made sense?”

Of course Sheppard would pick the hardest question first. Just as Rodney’s tactic had proven to be unwise and not properly planned, the original decision had been light on logic and actual conscious deciding. “I don’t know,” he mumbles, “It seemed logical at the time.”

“It seemed logical to spend two weeks blowing me off and doing your damnedest to ignore me? Nice, Rodney.” Sheppard didn’t look so defeated now. He was also on his feet, looking quite intimidating, taut lines of muscle radiating his anger.

“I know it was stupid! I just… don’t know, alright! I’m sorry!”

“Do you even know why you’re apologizing? Or are you just saying it?” Sheppard’s voice became loud as well as angry by the end of the sentence.

“Because I hurt you and I didn’t mean to but that wasn’t what I was thinking about and I really have no idea what was actually going through my head which kind of scares me because hello, genius, supposed to have a fully functional brain here and I have no clue what we’re doing and you’re about ten seconds away from just walking out and deciding that you’ve had enough of me and that’s still about a hundred times longer than anyone else and I have no idea why you’re even here when every hot alien bimbo and like, ninety-seven percent of Atlantis would jump at a chance with you!”

All the fight leaves Rodney as abruptly as it came. He drops onto the bed, buries his face in his hands, and wishes his subconscious would just start leaving him Post-its or something sane because he wasn’t kidding when he said he needed his brain to actually work.

A moment later, John sits next to him. “You’re an idiot.” Rodney tenses, knowing what’s coming next and taking no comfort from the fact that it is totally and completely his own fault, because sure, he is the one who started this break up even if he never actually wanted John to go.

“It’s a good thing I love you.”

The words are so different from what he’d been braced for that it takes Rodney a moment to process. When he looks up, he sees John giving him a small, slightly unsure smile. Most people would call Rodney’s response a tackle.

“Does this mean we can get to the make up sex now?” Rodney grins.

“Ow!” he whines a moment later thanks to John’s smack to the back of his head. “What was that for?”

“Us needing make up sex.”

“I love you, too, you know.” John’s smile is so happy that it makes Rodney whisper the words into his skin over and over, just to keep it there. When John later tangles them a little too tightly, presses a little too closely to make sleep entirely comfortable, somehow, it’s not a problem.

A/N: If you spot any typos or just plain errors in basic English, please point them out so I can fix them and hopefully not do it again. Thanks!

Another demonstration of how frightening my mind is

2007-10-06T19:30:59Z

As I was doing my semi-regular windexing of the ants (they come in my window, make a perfect ant trail across two short walls (my room is very oddly shaped, yes) and descend on a corner that has absoutely nothing in it and has been scrubbed several times), I fouund myself panicking and thinking, "Oh, this is bad. I've got to get ant traps or find a new way to kill these suckers before the windex stops working because they've evolved!" and then going, "No, wait, moron, that's replicators and asurans. Whew!"

Most of the time, I haven't been that fond of Weir. She didn't get enough screen time in the middle of the action or enough background to make me like her as her own character. Too often, it seemed like she was used as an excuse to get Rodney to re-explain something to the audience, which a) gets old if I understood the first time and b) doesn't give her credit for the intelligence she clearly must have. So you're not surprised to learn that I'm happy with Lifeline.

I should justify, though: If you had to go out, that was a pretty kickass way to go! She plays mind games with Oberon and wins for a while. She makes it posssible for the team to get a ZPM and save Atlantis. She provides Rodney with the base code that tells him that the Asurans were created to attack the Wraith and helps them reactivate that code. The only thing missing is a massive explosions to satisfy the pyro at heart!

Also, I have discovered that you can make fried eggs in a microwave!!!! How amazing is that? Anyway, there's even a video to show you how!

Insanity, v 4.4.

2007-10-02T16:28:05Z

I was bookmarking stuff on delicious when I got distracted by the prospects of other people's links... I possibly am a little too good at avoiding work.

Anyway, some highly entertaining things popped up:

I dare you not to laugh at this. Make sure you have your speakers on so that you truly appreciate that I have all the maturity of a 6 year old.

Let's just say that my college entrance essay was somewhat different than Hugh's. Apparently he got in, too, which makes me worry a little about NYU.

A study now shows that the handy-dandy foil helmet you've been using to keep the government out of your brain may actaully help them. I can so see some of my classmates doing this...

FIC: In Which Tibet Features (Sort of) Part 2

2007-10-02T04:44:39Z

Title: In Which Tibet Features (Sort of)
Author:

9zanite

Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~10,000
Warning: proofread by a pair of engineers. I wouldn't say beta after walking in on a discussion along the lines of "Integral is spelled with an a, so finagle should be, too." "But what about double integrals?" "They aren't spelled integraal, brainiac." "Is there a dictionary somewhere? The library has them, right?"
A/N: My prompt was: John Sheppard is chief of staff for Senator Weir and needs access to research materials in the Library of Congress. Rodney McKay is a cranky librarian at the LoC who John encounters.
Weir got demoted, I took extreme liberties with the Library, a diplomat's life/staff/job, and Washington, D.C., and I probably horribly abused commas and grammar in general. Please point out errors - engineers aren't the best writers around. I can use all the help I can get.

Refusing to admit that he was awake, John curled into the warmth sharing the bed with him. He hadn’t had the chance to lazily drift in and out of sleep, enjoying the sun streaming in the window and a comforting weight holding him in place since before Elizabeth had been tapped for these negotiations and her staff had started putting in sixty-five hour work weeks.

Wait, sunlight? He had to be at the train station well before sunup in order to be at the Hill for Elizabeth’s 7 am start to the day, even with summer’s extra hours of light. Why hadn’t the alarm gone off?

Panicking, Sheppard was out of bed and struggling into his clothes, frantically trying to come up with a logical excuse for being … oh shit, was it really 10:37?

“Wha?” came the sleepy protest from the bed.

“I’m so late and I have no idea what to tell Elizabeth and I was supposed to be in by 6:30 to get everything set for Elizabeth’s day. I am so screwed!” Pants and shirt were on, but where had his shoes gone last night?

“Hey, relax a minute. Hey, John,” Rodney had pulled himself out of bed and was fishing something out of the pocket of his pants from the day before.

“I can’t! I was supposed to be in hours ago. Fuck! I need this job!” Shoes successfully corralled, John hunted down important things like keys, cell phone, and wallet.

“Spill coffee down your front before you go in. Change before anyone has a chance to get a good look at you – you seem like the super prepared Boy Scout who keeps a change of clothes in your office. Take the flash drive and pout about the horrible customer service at the Library.” Rodney handed over the drive with an unsure smile.

Annoyed at himself both for failing to set an alarm and for taking his frustration out on Rodney, he stepped over to the man and tried to convey an apology with a kiss.

“You’re a lifesaver. Thanks.” John paused a moment to enjoy the way Rodney felt pressed up against him, even through a layer of clothing.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but a shower would be a good idea. You smell like you’ve been having a much better morning than if you’d really been fighting with idiots for hours.” That was a good point – they hadn’t bothered to clean up beyond a quick wipe down and John could feel the come dried on his stomach.

Freshly showered and in borrowed underwear, John tried to talk around the spare toothbrush Rodney had dug out during John’s shower but gave up on multitasking halfway through the sentence. “’inner tonigh’? I won’ ee done til late and I have to go back to my apartment tonight, but I can bail for a little while.”

Catching Rodney’s surprised expression in the mirror, he backpedaled as well as he could manage, “That is, if you don’t have stuff. Judging by when you were at the Library yesterday, your hours suck more than mine, and you’ll have interns and things.”

“What? No, no, no, I don’t work Wednesdays and they’re so lucky to have me that they should just be grateful that I show up at all because, hello, genius here.”

“Is that a yes, then?” John dared to hope this thing might have meant something to Rodney as well.

“Provided interns and Congress contain their respective stupidity, it’s a yes. 7 sound good?” Rodney dropped John’s discarded toothbrush in the cup by the sink. John may have beamed on his way out the door.

****

Despite a month that provided John with no legitimate reasons to be in the Library of Congress, he ended up meeting Rodney there for dinner or more four nights a week. A set or two of clothes and the box set of Back to the Future DVDs migrated to Rodney’s apartment. The toothbrush found a more permanent home in the medicine cabinet on the shelf above John’s aftershave. A small furry ball named Schro got used to John and the kitty treats that sometimes came with him enough to allow John to regularly see more than just eyes glinting from under furniture.

“He’s a stray who came inside and wouldn’t leave. Have you seen his claws? I’m not going to pick a fight with something that could shred me to ribbons!” had been the explanation. John hadn’t commented on the plethora of cat toys scattered across the floor or the cabinet full of cat food that sure wasn’t generic. Besides, it was possible that not all the toys had been bought by Rodney.

****

“That’s a good look on you, John.” Elizabeth commented one day as she stopped at John’s desk while he was replying to a seven page dissertation on why Kavanaugh was no longer allowed near Rodney’s desk.

“What?” John said, checking to make sure he hadn’t spilled anything on himself or left an imprint on his face from leaning against his watch.

“You look happy. Not just your normal smile,” she cut off his instinctive protest, “but genuinely happy.” She smiled at his blush. “This Rodney is good for you.”

“Um…” John stuttered. He was positive he hadn’t mentioned Rodney’s name or even mentioned dates, and he definitely hadn’t expected his employer to be so accepting of the fact that Rodney was a Rodney instead of a Laura, Jane, Emily, Sara, etc.

Laughing at John’s lack of words, Elizabeth continued, “I’m a little jealous. Simon and I used to be like that, but everything’s gotten more complicated with this latest set of negotiations. I’d promised to marry him next month, no more rescheduling, but it’s unlikely that I’ll be back in the states by the official date.”

“I’m sorry, Elizabeth.” That was just unfair – nobody deserved to have their wedding day pushed back indefinitely like that.

“You could have the staff that stays behind work on fixing all the arrangements – they might as well do something beside work a fax machine while we’re gone,” he suggested.

“I may have to,” she laughed before turning to the incomplete military assessment that had brought her to John’s desk.

Because he had a reputation to maintain, he dumped enough paperwork on Lorne’s desk to keep the man there until after midnight. He ignored the hastily covered smirks when he used the time that cleared for him to meet Rodney earlier than usual. It was possible that this didn’t help him at all in the reputation department.

****

Just when John’s life seemed as good as it could get, Murphy’s Law took over. The negotiations regarding where and when and who Elizabeth would be negotiating at and with concluded, meaning John went from generally busy to absolutely frantic as Elizabeth and her staff prepared to leave for Asia in less than two weeks. He barely saw Rodney at all, but managed to finagle an official trip a week after the announcement.

On his way to Rodney’s desk, however, he was stopped by an incredibly unwelcome familiar face.

“John! It’s so good to see you!” Chaya exclaimed, smiling brightly.

“Um, it’s nice to see you, too, but I’m a little short on time today, so we’ll have to catch up some other day.” Flashing the standard charming smile, he attempted to sidestep the woman.

“But John, wait! You haven’t come looking for answers recently. Athar would surely welcome you back!” Chaya neatly caught hold of his wrist and looped her other arm around his waist. Sometimes the nutcase seemed to have tentacles, she latched on so well.

“I really can’t, Chaya. I have to pick up the latest security briefing for Dr. Weir’s upcoming travel.” John tried to ooze his way out of her hold.

“Don’t worry, John. I’ll go fetch it for you and then we can chat.” With a quick kiss to his lips, she was gone, leaving him wishing for mouthwash and looking for an escape route.

Hoping to find Rodney for even a quick conversation as well as a copy of the report that didn’t require interaction with Chaya, John headed to his lover’s area. Not seeing the man at one of the desks, he asked after him, only to be met with several versions of “maybe in back somewhere but we’re much to busy to track down a librarian for you.”

He gave up when he spotted a pale, billowy dress approaching and promptly faked an emergency phone call from Elizabeth. After excusing himself with a polite “some day when there isn’t such an urgent request from Dr. Weir” and his distracted yet polite smile, he couldn’t exactly stick around looking for Rodney.

When working through lunch and dinner that night didn’t seem to make his to-do list shrink noticeably, John decided it was time for food and a break before he spent hours more getting everything settled for the departure in less than a week. He headed for the Library, hoping that he’d be able to find Rodney this time.

He seemed to have much better luck this time around. Chaya was nowhere to be seen and Rodney was at his usual desk, scowling down at a stack of books.

“Rodney!” he called across the room, giving the man a genuine smile and expecting the scowl to reshape itself into Rodney’s usual smug smile.

If anything, Rodney’s scowl deepened. “What are you doing here?” he barked.

Hoping that he’d be able to improve the librarian’s obvious dark mood, John said, “I’m playing hooky for a couple of hours. You look like you could use an escape yourself. Up for a drink?”

“Oh yes, how wonderful of you to grace me with your presence. I’ll pass.” The sarcasm wasn’t in jest – this was Rodney in full ‘You are an idiot that I want as far away from me as possible in case your stupidity taints the air I’m breathing’ mode.

Hiding his hurt, John asked as casually as he could, “What’s up, Rodney? I know things have been kind of nuts and they’re only going to get worse, but you know my phone number, too.”

“Your social docket seems a bit full for me. You might have better luck in one of the other buildings,” Rodney snapped.

“What the hell, Rodney? What’s going on?” John didn’t know where this was coming from. He’d thought they were fine, heck, better than fine, but Rodney certainly wasn’t happy to see him. Maybe things like this were why his marriage hadn’t lasted.

“What’s going on? What’s going on is that while I can understand an unwillingness to choose in certain circumstances, I mean, I’m a librarian because I couldn’t decide what fields I wanted to study so I picked them all, essentially, but when it comes down to it, I’m not willing to be your back up date when you can’t get a woman. Brush-offs are one thing, but I won’t put up with you wandering in with your arrogant smile and making out with someone else right in front of me. For someone who works for a diplomat, you’ve got absolutely no tact.”

What? He hadn’t been making out with anyone? What was Rodney talking about?

Some of his confusion must’ve shown, because Rodney snorted impatiently and spat, “Chaya.”

“No! I never, well, not never, but not for months! She’s a wacko who doesn’t understand the meaning of ‘go away!’”

“Right. Because you were trying so hard to get her to go away this morning. Just go home, Sheppard.”

“Rodney, I didn’t do anything! She just came up and was all over me and I got away as fast as I could! I swear, I would never cheat like that! You have to believe me!” John was pretty sure his desperation was obvious, but he didn’t care that the interns were getting a good show as long as Rodney believed him.

“I don’t have to do anything. As touching as this scene is, I’d rather not give the gossip any more fuel. I’ll make one of the interns drop off your stuff tomorrow.”

“Rodney, I didn’t… it’s not like that… Rodney, please…” there had to be words that could fix this, but John didn’t have them. He’d never been good at talking, but Rodney had always seemed to fill in the blanks just fine. Apparently that was over.

“Now who’s the wacko who doesn’t understand the meaning of ‘go away?’” Rodney’s words were more weary than cutting, but they still hurt.

Gathering what was left of his pride, John went. He wasn’t going to grovel for someone who wouldn’t give him the time of day to explain or trust him enough to believe he wouldn’t willingly accept the advances of another.

Besides, he told himself, it was convenient that things had ended when they did. In three days Elizabeth and her staff would be leaving for Singapore, the unlikely location all involved parties had managed to agree on as the site of negotiations. With the long hours they both worked, a relationship complicated by drastic differences in time zones on top of the distance was practically doomed from the start. Sure, Singapore would be boring with hours and hours waiting for Elizabeth to need him to have this or that report sent or an event schedule rearranged, but there were sure to be days off. Bangkok had always been one of the places everyone in the South Pacific tried to get leave in at least once.

True to his word, Rodney had John’s stuff delivered to Elizabeth’s office. It appeared sometime in the five hour window when he went home, showered, changed, and got nowhere near enough sleep before reappearing at the office. Obviously Rodney had terrified some poor intern into delivering it when he knew John was least likely to be there. John wondered what exactly Rodney thought he’d have done to the intern if they had showed up during normal hours. He was pretty sure it wasn’t to spare him the embarrassment of the rest of the staff seeing him get a delivery of clothes, toiletries, and John’s favorite DVDs. He convinced himself it wasn’t a bigger deal than the packing up he was doing in his apartment.

****

The night before departure, Elizabeth treated her staff to dinner. Due to the size of the staff and the budget she got, this meant takeout Thai laid out on a folding table stolen from the Department of Transportation (and so labeled) and wedged in between two almost clear desks so that only Parish, who was about two inches wide, could squeeze through.

Afterwards, just about everyone but the interns moved the party to a nearby bar to properly celebrate. Gradually, they lost the people used to having at least some of their night devoted to sleep. When just Elizabeth, Lorne, and John remained, they decided to call it a night. Being gentlemen, Lorne and John insisted on escorting Elizabeth to her car, which had been left near the office.

The group had just reached the Hill when they ran into trouble in the form of a group of rowdy college boys. Judging by the guys with a bottle of liquor duct taped to each hand, fall pledging was in full swing. Crossing the street to avoid them resulted in jeers and catcalls, but most of the group stayed across the street.

Focused on the three who staggered across the street, proudly displaying Sigma Nu tshirts and empty bottles taped to their hands, John wasn’t paying any attention to the student on the other side of the street who decided to call his buddies back by hurling a mostly full liquor bottle at them from the middle of the road. Before he knew it, he was lying on the pavement wondering why his head hurt so much and Elizabeth looked so tall and concerned.

Too dazed to process anything besides ‘ow, bright light, loud noise,’ John missed the police showing up thanks to a noise complaint, frat boys and pledges scattering, an ambulance and EMTs arriving and loading him in, a ride with the flashing lights on, and most of the first hour of his hospital experience.

He started to tune back in a little when he heard Rodney’s voice in the hallway saying something about an emergency, but couldn’t process what Rodney would be doing in the hallway of whatever hospital he’d ended up at. Hadn’t Rodney essentially thrown him out? He strained to hear the conversation.

“…hoped you would know where he lives and could take him home,” Elizabeth was saying.

“Yes, yes, if we were dating, sure, that would almost disguise itself as logic instead of trying to drop this problem in my lap!” Rodney protested. Ouch, problem? Guess he knew where he stood, didn’t he?

“I assure you, I do not intend to give ‘this problem’ to you. I assumed he would want you here, but if this is how you view one of my closest friends, there is no way in hell I will let you with a mile of him.” He’d never heard Elizabeth that angry. A little frosty and disapproving, certainly, but nothing close to this.

There was an exasperated sigh. “That didn’t come out how I meant it. Look, why don’t you just call Chaya if you don’t have a family member? I’m sure she knows where he lives and would be more than happy to collect him.”

“That’s unlikely. She didn’t take it kindly when he wanted no part of her or her religion.” She paused a moment, but Rodney was uncharacteristically quiet.

“I have to leave for Singapore in seven hours. I could take him home with me if they let him out before then, but I don’t want to leave him completely alone. Most of my staff will be either coming with me or reporting back to the various departments we borrowed them from for all the prep work on these negotiations. John was supposed to be coming, but now I have to call and get his ticket switched to Lorne because a hospital stay within thirty days means John violates the customs laws for entry into Singapore. If you just take him to his apartment, at least his neighbors can make sure he’s alright.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll take him home and make sure the neighbors know not to let him drown in his own blood or get dizzy and take a header out his window or – “

“Thank you, Rodney.” Elizabeth’s voice held genuine warmth as she cut him off. John wondered what she was reading on McKay’s face, because his words hadn’t been particularly kind.

He must have dozed off in the quiet left in the wake of the hallway discussion, because he was woken up by a nurse who made him move to get x-rayed and scanned and tested until he just wanted to curl up and hold a pillow over his head to block out the light and noise and people who wouldn’t let him hide until his brain finished exploding through the left side of his head.

When he got back to his curtained off section, Rodney was waiting in a plastic chair by the bed, but Elizabeth was nowhere in sight.

“Elizabeth went to clean up and get some coffee before she has to head to the airport. The PA who checked you out said that you’ll be discharged as soon as a doctor takes a look at the preliminary test results that will come back in an hour or two. Unless any surprises show up, which they aren’t expecting, but really, how can you expect surprises? If they were expected, they wouldn’t be a surprise, just going to show that medicine is about as scientific as voodoo.” Rodney kept his voice low, even when giving his opinion of the medical experts, but his hands were their expressive selves. John found that surprisingly comforting.

“’K. Thanks.” Curling in on himself, he pulled the pillow over his eyes to block out the light and tried not to worry about all the things Lorne would have to remember to do in his place.

“Don’t go to sleep in there! Do you want your brain to explode?” Even stage whispering, Rodney managed to convey loud panic.

“Tests, genius,” John muttered from his cocoon.

“Yes, well, forgive me if I’m worried about the two brain cells you have left,” Rodney huffed.

An indeterminate amount of time passed before Elizabeth woke him from a doze to say good bye before she went to the airport, re-explain that Rodney would take him home when he was discharged, and tell him that she’d see him in a month, but she expected a damned good wedding planned when she got back.

When John was finally discharged another, much longer indeterminate time later, Rodney insisted on using a wheelchair. John was still dizzy enough that it didn’t seem worth the fight, but he managed the transfer from chair to Rodney’s car without much trouble.

“John, where am I going?” Rodney looked somewhat irritated, as if this wasn’t the first time he’d asked this question.

“Huh?” That didn’t mean that John had a clue what was going on.

“I need to take you home, but I need you to tell me how to get there.” Rodney sounded like this part of the conversation had also been repeated.

“Where am I?” He vaguely recalled Elizabeth explaining what had happened and where he was, but the details were gone.

“Never mind about directions. Where do you live? Tell me your address, John.”

“Just by the train station.” That’s where he’d left his car. He had to go move it so it wouldn’t get towed while he was gone… or had he already done that? Or was that the car he’d sold before they went to Germany for three months?

“You don’t actually know where you live, do you?” Rodney sighed. At John’s confused look, he added, “So far you’ve told me that you live by the train station, in Ms. Emmagen’s building, and that you left clothes in Dr. Weir’s office, but nothing like a street or even a zip code!”

“Sorry?” John didn’t remember the other two conversations at all. But still, he knew Rodney had been less than thrilled about driving him. “If you drop me at the metro station, I can just take that to the connection with the train lines and go home from there. I know it’s my stop when I see the bagpipers.”

“Were you always this stupid and I somehow didn’t notice? I am not just dropping you off at the train station with seventeen stitches and clothes covered in blood and oh, yeah, a serious head injury!” Rodney looked furious at the idea.

“Stitches?” He brought his hand up to feel at the bandaging, but Rodney slapped it away.

“Don’t touch that! Yes, you have stitches. You were mostly unconscious for that, thankfully, but then you decided to wake up and guess who had to help hold you down? I can’t say that’s an experience I want to repeat.”

“Sorry,” John said again. No wonder Rodney was irritated – he didn’t handle blood well, even in small quantities.

“Just shut up. You can stay with me. Possibly your rampant stupidity won’t kill us both. The same cannot be said for the seat you’re getting blood all over.”

John apologized again, but that only seemed to make Rodney more upset, so he stayed quiet and spent the rest of the drive half-awake, listening to Rodney fill the silence with inane chatter and watching the city pass his window without taking any of it in.

When they reached Rodney’s apartment, John was out of it enough that he did need Rodney’s arm wrapped around his waist, but he wasn’t so out of it that he needed to lean in quite as much as he did. His night had been pretty crappy and he wasn’t above taking advantage of the only good part of it. Rodney shot him a suspicious glance as he found himself taking more of John’s weight, but he didn’t protest, just held on tightly enough to keep them both upright and moving forward.

John stayed awake just long enough for Rodney to force water and meds into him before crashing. He woke up hours later and wandered out of the bedroom, only to find that it wasn’t still dark out, it was again dark outside.

“Would sleeping beauty prefer Chinese takeout or frozen pizza?” Rodney asked, making John realize just how hungry he was.

“Chinese, unless you’ve got a serious pizza stash.” Rodney somewhat obediently ordered, muttering under his breath about commandeered beds and being eaten out of house and home. He did, however, order enough sesame chicken and fried rice to feed a dozen people.

Now that he was awake, John couldn’t help but notice that he smelled like alcohol, blood, and hospital antiseptic. He had the added bonus of clothes stiff with dried blood, even though Rodney had gotten his pants and shirt off. Rodney eventually agreed to let him shower, provided it was fast and involved Rodney standing right on the other side of the shower curtain, but wouldn’t let him wash his hair for fear of aggravating the ‘gaping hole in your head.’

They ate in front of a Sci-Fi channel movie special that involved science so sketchy Rodney’s four year old niece wouldn’t buy it and a plot so thin it could have doubled as a certain emperor’s clothes. Dinner conversation mostly involved not choking as they laughed at it, but afterwards, Rodney got a lot quieter and seemed edgy. John was startled to see that it was almost midnight. That explained Rodney’s mood – he’d only signed up for driving John to John’s own apartment, not taking John home with him and playing babysitter all day and probably tonight, too. He should leave so Rodney could go to sleep in his own bed.

“I should probably - ”

“I think, no, I know I do - ” they both spoke at once, then stopped just as suddenly.

Wanting to hear what Rodney had to say and more than willing to put off his own departure for as long as possible, John played the ‘you first’ game to win.

Rodney scowled at his immaturity, but continued anyway. “I may possibly have overreacted.”

John waited for the rest of the sentence. And waited.

“What? Fine, yes, um.” Rodney drew a deep breath. “When you suddenly stopped coming around. I may have.” Another deep breath. “Possibly. Okay, definitely.”

Still not sure what Rodney was trying to say, John tried to look encouraging. “What might you definitely have done?”

“Overreacted. Pay attention!” The eye roll and snap didn’t even begin to cover Rodney’s agitation.

“Sorry,” John replied automatically.

“Stop interrupting! This is hard enough without help!” John nodded and stayed silent.

“So I might have assumed that you were just being nice.” Seeing John’s clear confusion, Rodney continued, “When you said you were going to Singapore in less than two weeks and that it was going to be tight having everything ready for that deadline. In my defense, most people generally decide I’m more work than I’m worth pretty quickly. I thought you wanted an out of the relationship thing.”

“And you saw Chaya latch on that day and assumed she was the reason I wasn’t around much.” John filled in the blanks.

“Did I look like I was trying to do anything but escape from her?” John asked somewhat rhetorically.

“That may have been pointed out later,” Rodney admitted. “I believe words like ‘pale as a sheet’ and ‘hiding behind a wheelchair’ were used.”

“Damn straight!” John said. “She’s creepy and just doesn’t let go! And then there’s the whole religion worshipping the goddess Athar, which just happens to be her last name!”

This got a small smile from Rodney.

“Listen, Rodney. I would never do that to you – any of that. If it ever came to that, I would not feed you some shitty line. And I don’t cheat on people.” He’d always left that to his ex-wife.

“I’m sorry.” Rodney’s blue eyes conveyed his sincerity along with obvious hope.

John sighed. “Me, too. I should’ve done a better job of giving you no reason to doubt.” He hated talking in general and discussions about feelings even more so. Avoiding any sort of relationship talk had always been high on his list of priorities, but behavior like that had left Rodney completely in the dark about how much he meant to John. John was starting to realize that meaning something was possibly well on its way to totally in love and one tiny relationship talk might be worth it. As long as they never, ever did it again.

“Yeah?” Rodney asked, “Is that something you’re willing to work on?”

“That’s in the range of possibilities.”

****

“How are you feeling, John?” Elizabeth asked two days later when she called at what must have been a ridiculous hour to catch him in the middle of the day.

“Head’s been better, but it’s fine. Everything’s good,” he replied.

“Everything?” came the tiny voice from the phone speaker.

John glanced over at Rodney, who, after calling the Library of Congress to tell them that he had a family emergency and he’d come back when he damn well felt like it, had spent the past day and a half finding out how fast and often he could make John come and was now mouthing “who is it?” and demanding details with all the patience of a toddler.

“Everything,” he confirmed. “Get some sleep, Elizabeth!”

FIC: In Which Tibet Features (Sort of)

2007-10-02T04:40:32Z

Title: In Which Tibet Features (Sort of)
Author:

9zanite
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~10,000
Warning: proofread by a pair of engineers. I wouldn't say beta after walking in on a discussion along the lines of "Integral is spelled with an a, so finagle should be, too." "But what about double integrals?" "They aren't spelled integraal, brainiac." "Is there a dictionary somewhere? The library has them, right?"
A/N: My prompt was: John Sheppard is chief of staff for Senator Weir and needs access to research materials in the Library of Congress. Rodney McKay is a cranky librarian at the LoC who John encounters.
Weir got demoted, I took extreme liberties with the Library, a diplomat's life/staff/job, and Washington, D.C., and I probably horribly abused commas and grammar in general. Please point out errors - engineers aren't the best writers around. I can use all the help I can get.

John Sheppard stepped into Elizabeth's makeshift office (possibly a former closet), coffees in hand, to hear Dr. Elizabeth Weir nearly shouting into the phone and knew his day had just gone to hell in a hand basket.

"...if I were just allowed access to the resources I need to make this a success!" When even the extraordinarily diplomatic Elizabeth was driven to shouting, John generally knew that someone was being incredibly unreasonable. He also had a feeling that it was going to end up his job to get her what she wanted from that unreasonable someone's aides.

"Of course I understand that I'm not a member of Congress! In order to do my job, I need those... yes, thank you for your time." She slammed the phone down as she muttered the thank you, clearly having been hung up on. John handed the coffee over with his trademark smile and an appropriate caffeine-fixes-almost-everything comment.

"Thanks. I think these are the only way I'm going to get through these negotiations," she said, "and the actual negotiating hasn't even begun yet. The Congressional Research Service is refusing to provide the materials I need because I'm not a member of either house of Congress. They were very happy to inform me that I could use the Library's resources as a member of the general public by going to the main Information Desk and asking for assistance."

John winced. Getting what you needed starting at the Library of Congress Information Desk meant you had several circles of not-quite hell to travel through before you got anywhere near what you were looking for. "So I'm taking a field trip today, huh?"

Elizabeth sighed. "I'm sorry to put you through that, but I need that information before my meetings tomorrow and it may take some time to work through. Aren't you still dating one of the librarians? Chaya, was it?"

Ignoring the comment about Chaya, who'd been a two day thing once he'd figured out that not only was she very New Age, she was the leader of her very own religious cult where she was the object of worship, John just took the list of necessary speeches and books he'd made yesterday, his coffee, and a lifesaver from the candy bowl and gave one of his standard done-in-no-time replies and a smile on his way out.

An hour later as he stood waiting for one of the rather overwhelmed librarians to get to him, John was seriously contemplating a new job. Or at least a raise. Someone had somehow brought a handful of small children in, despite the rules against them and the security officers supposedly preventing their entrance. Said children were very loudly displaying how not thrilled they were with the long wait. A blond with straightened hair and a tri-delta t-shirt was talking inappropriately loudly about her ex-boyfriend's new girlfriend and the many failings of both into a cell phone whose volume was turned up high enough that he was forced to listen to both sides of the conversation. He was having a great time. Really. This smile wasn't strained at all.

Serving as an aide to a negotiator hadn't been his first choice, but not many people would take him at all after the way his Air Force career had crashed and burned. Elizabeth had been willing to give him a chance and the idea of working to end and even prevent some of the ugly situations he'd been stationed in was appealing. He'd seen some interesting places with the USAF, but Elizabeth definitely got better lodging and dining while in countries in somewhat better shape than say, Afghanistan. However, the appeal of the job drained away the longer he waited in line. He was perfectly happy with most of the grunt work he did for Elizabeth, but the Library of Congress was his own special hell today. Maybe he'd written Chaya off too soon.

Finally waved over by a librarian with a receding hairline and an irritated scowl, John pulled out his most charming smile and the list, ready to begin pleasantries.

“What incredibly inane thing do you want fetched because you’re too moronic to go to your local library?” The librarian snapped.

John opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Sure, they were pretty busy today, but still, what was this guy's problem?

“No, you seem like the type to be hideously invested in discovering the origin of your modeling-gene family. Did you even read the pamphlet yet? Here.” The man shoved paper at him and started to direct him elsewhere, but –

“Actually, I’m here on behalf of one of the diplomats working on the Tibet negotiations, so I’ll need the things on this list. If you could get me electronic versions, that’d be even better, thanks.” John figured ignoring the total lack of manners was his best bet. He flashed his most charming smile and hoped.

“Than why wouldn’t you go to the Congressional Research Service? There are people employed for this specific purpose, giving you no excuse for wasting my time. NEXT!” The man turned his attention to the adult with the small children that John had been stuck listening to for the past century in line.

Nearly-politely edging the woman out of the way before she could get herself and her horde up to the counter, John practically shoved his list in front of the librarian, quite fed up with the level of service.

“CRS insists that it serves only Congress. They sent me here. Give me what I want and I’ll go away.” His tone was mostly civil, at least. A deaf individual might believe that, anyway. Maybe.

“And you're in a position to make demands,” the librarian said sarcastically as he gestured the woman with her mob of children back over.

This time Sheppard was nowhere near polite as he refused to relinquish his counter position. Completely losing his public smile, he let a little of the pilot who’d seen his fair share of combat show through as he leaned across the counter in a manner not commonly referred to as friendly.

“No, you need to listen to me. If talks go bad, the situation will deteriorate into civil unrest or outright war and people will end up dying. I realize that this is trivial to you with your powerful position of librarian in a city that hasn’t had a serious threat since Lee crossed the Potomac, but it’s people I know who’ll end up sent there to clean up the mess and it’s good kids who’ll come home in body bags and pieces. So you are going to give me the tools I need to help my boss prevent that, got it, Mr. Librarian?” he growled.

With an eye roll and an exaggerated sigh, the man typed rapidly. A moment later he snapped and held out his hand.

“I’m sorry?” Sheppard had no clue what the guy wanted. He’d been here enough times to be pretty certain that tipping wasn’t required.

“Flash drive. Or whatever you want your information stored on. You seem to be using too large a percentage of your brain cells as fertilizer to grow that mane for me to download anything directly to your brain.”

To John’s surprise, he found himself laughing as he handed over the requested device. It apparently surprised the librarian as well, judging by the intent blue-eyed scrutiny.

“This will take a few minutes. While it’s copying the data, which, by the way, you could’ve gotten over the internet, thus saving both your own and my infinitely more valuable Dr. Librarian time, I’ll find the Tibetan texts that are not available in electronic form.” While the words themselves weren’t particularly friendly, the librarian’s tone seemed to have warmed significantly. John may or may not have spent a little too long appreciating the man’s exit.

When he returned long after the computer had given a little ping to indicate that the download was complete, the librarian looked slightly disgruntled. “Tell me, how hard is it to put the books back where they belong! Idiots!”

John looked at the stack of texts, wondering how he was going to get them photocopied or scanned so that he could bring them back to Elizabeth. One of the serious drawbacks of the whole research library thing was the inability to actually check the books out. He sighed and pulled the stack toward him with the best smile he could come up with in the face of hours of tedium and started to ask which machine was fastest.

Dr. Librarian had already caught onto the reason for his despair. “Wait a second.” He pulled the books back across the counter. “Doing that on your own will take forever. I’ll make some of the interns scan them in as part of the digital library work and give you a copy tonight if you can come back for it. Serves them right for proving themselves totally and completely incapable of filing things correctly.” The man was positively gleeful about his intern punishment.

This time the smile was as genuine as it ever got and the thank you was not just one of John’s standard social niceties. Looking at the answering smile, he decided he might just see if Dr. Librarian wanted dinner somewhere when he came back for the Tibetan texts. It certainly wasn’t like he had a military career to worry about these days, and those broad, solid shoulders were definitely worth a little admiration.

“And also, my name’s McKay, Dr. Rodney McKay, not Dr. Librarian.”

John smiled, held out his hand and introduced himself, only to be shoved out of the way by the children with the woman he’d edged out earlier. McKay seemed far too amused at his expense. John would’ve taken offense, but figured lunch was a better plan.

Handing Elizabeth a sandwich along with the portion of her list that had been available electronically got him a raised eyebrow, but John just pushed it closer and reminded her of her 2:00 appointment to update her vaccines before travel abroad.

When he returned ten minutes later with forms to be signed, he pointedly did not smirk at the empty sandwich wrapper.

“Lunch may have been a better idea than I expected,” she replied to his lack of I-told-you-so even though it had been, well, lacking.

“Several of the Tibetan things you wanted were only available as physical texts, so I couldn’t bring them to you with the electronic copies. They’re getting scanned in now and I’ll have them tonight or tomorrow morning. I figured you’d probably want a head start on what was available, though.” Tomorrow morning indeed, if McKay turned out to be as interesting as he seemed.

“That’s fine, thank you.” Elizabeth was already turning to the files. He went to reschedule her doctor’s appointment for tomorrow and made a mental note to only hand over the rest of the information after she’d been vaccinated.

It was well past normal dinner hours by the time he got through with enough of the stuff on his desk that he could almost see the desk calendar that was still turned to March, despite the fact that it was now August. He told people he left it to remind himself of Antarctica because he’d kind of liked it there. He was pretty sure no one believed him. That didn’t bother him in the least. The art of giving nothing away despite telling the truth wasn’t something he’d had to learn from Elizabeth.

Cursing himself for losing track of time, John quickly shut down his computer and left the building, hoping that McKay would still be at the library, despite how unlikely a shift of more than eleven hours was. He tended to forget that normal people got done with their jobs for the day, walked outside, and actually saw daylight most of the year.

He knew he was in luck when he walked in to the much emptier library to the sound of an irritable rant. McKay seemed to be wielding his particular form of customer service to drive off a frazzled college student. John guessed pre-med by the level of panic the kid was showing.

Content to just watch someone else get verbally flayed after hours of forced politeness and unreasonable requests, John hung back and tried to keep his smirk from showing. He couldn’t tell if the amused look on Rodney’s face was the result of the pre-med leaving in need of tissues or of his audience’s enjoyment of the scene.

“The incredibly moronic interns this summer have proven to be completely incapable of using a scanner, despite have been here for nine weeks. It’s entirely possible they pooled their seven brain cells and then forgot the location, especially considering their inability to correctly reshelve anything. And on top of this, I have to deal with some idiot who can’t seem to understand that ‘this book is not in the library’ does in fact mean that it isn’t here! Because, imagine this, we don’t own it!” McKay’s hands gesticulated wildly to punctuate his discussion of everyone else’s incompetence.

John smiled, “But did they manage to get the address wrong on mail to the White House? Ask an Israeli ambassador who was wearing a nametag that included her nationality if she was from Palestine or Pakistan? ”

McKay winced. “Constantly being near this stupidity is making me lose brain cells. While I can certainly afford to lose a few and still function at a level far beyond, oh, everyone, I refuse to be dragged down! This much idiocy is probably contagious! I have plans for my genius!”

Laughing at the librarian’s rant, Sheppard asked after the Tibetan texts.

“And we return to the imbeciles! The last one is being finished now. Miko probably has an hour’s worth of scanning left, and she’s moderately not stupid, so one can reasonably assume that she won’t screw up, unlike the majority of the morons she works with. If they weren’t essentially slaves willing to work overtime and get paid nothing at all – “

“You’d have to hire twice the actual employees and fetch your own coffee, McKay,” Sheppard teased.

“Yes, well, you may have a point. But coffee-fetching is a necessary task if I’m expected to deal with the general public. You saw the children in here today!”

“You do seem like a twelve cup a day kind of guy.” John didn’t even want to picture McKay over-caffeinated – the man already talked a mile a minute and was constantly in motion even when he didn’t seem to be mainlining coffee.

“And working where you do, you aren’t?” McKay shot back.

“My day is practically twice as long as a normal person’s!” John didn’t admit that there were days so crazy that coffee was the only thing he actually consumed.

“I’m sure you’re anything but normal!” The tone was only moderately patronizing. Was that a come-on? If the man had said ‘average,’ he could be sure, but still…

“Hey! I was going to suggest grabbing something to eat in the hour your minion needs to finish, but if you’re going to be insulting…” John playfully let the sentence trail off.

“Yes, fine, you can take me to an extraordinarily late dinner in thanks for vastly improving your day of drudgery. Just no citrus, unless you want me dead, in which case you will never see your precious Tibetan texts because the interns will all have stampeded off to watch soap operas in the janitor’s closet without me there to yell at them.”

“No citrus, got it,” John drawled, easily picking up on the important part of the sentence while still wondering about a janitor’s closet with cable TV and room for a horde of interns. “Italian, then?”

“Yes, citrus bad. Should I keep to simple sentences so as not to overtax your mental capacity?” Despite his retort, McKay seemed amused.

“Italian it is, then. I know a little place near here that makes amazing chicken parm. And lasagna. Actually, pretty much everything there is amazing, and Italian cooking isn’t too big on the citrus.”

Italian met with no (alright, a few, but only token, and more about having to walk multiple blocks than about Italian) complaints on McKay’s part. As they ate, they exchanged stupidest intern stories (the intern who spent an entire day frantically trying to print out the user manual for his office phone in order to call a congressman's assistant for a fax number but didn't know the correct printer to send it to, so flooded Lorne's printer with ninety-three copies of the twenty-seven page manual but never found the fax number won), discussed a new software program Rodney was writing to make the Library catalog easier to search, argued over the best Star Trek captain (Rodney insisted Spock was, even though he never had his own starship on the TV series, but John was all for Sisco) and coolest alien race (Vulcans versus Klingons was declared mostly a tie), and generally enjoyed bantering back and forth.

John found himself getting distracted by Rodney’s flying hands as they sketched out ideas and emphasized his points, but thankfully, Rodney was too wrapped up in what he was saying to notice his short tune outs. It was obvious that the man was passionate about what he was discussing, even when the topic of conversation was as mundane as interns. After a day of insincere, reserved diplomatic pleasantries, McKay's genuine intensity was refreshing.

On the plus side, when he was watching Rodney’s hands, John wasn’t staring at Rodney’s crooked mouth and fantasizing about something other than pasta in it. He also wasn't noticing how solid Rodney was and imagining that weight pinning him to the mattress and fucking him into the middle of next week.

He managed to make it through most of the meal only half hard, but then desert came. It seemed that Rodney was very, very fond of chocolate, and triple chocolate layer cake had its very own set of Rodney porn noises. John was left flushed and struggling to keep his breathing even and napkin placed appropriately. It was entirely possible that he completely forgot his own raspberry pie because he was too busy staring.

“Alright, fine, yes, you can have a bite. But only one! You chose pie!” Rodney pushed the cake close enough that John could have taken a forkful.

“Huh?” John tried to figure out what he’d missed while trying to preserve some sense of dignity.

“You’ve been watching every bite of the cake disappear, you’ve barely touched your pie, and you’re practically drooling! Don’t even pretend you don’t want my chocolate!”

They were rapidly approaching oh shit territory, but John decided to go for it anyway. Blushing, he muttered, “Really not the cake, Rodney.”

“What are you talking about? Are you alright? You're not choking or having a stroke or something are you?” McKay was amazingly oblivious at times. At least he seemed genuinely concerned, if a bit off in his guesses.

John cleared his throat and managed a normal-sounding, “Fine, really, just spaced out or something.” He took a long drink of water to avoid having to say anything else.

“Right. Because people who are fine regularly turn red and sound like they're a step away from keeling over.” Well, scratch the normal-sounding, then. And really, he'd answer, but wasn't it obvious that he was busy taking that long drink of water?

“Your glass has to be nothing but ice by now. What are you doing?” John just put the glass down and gave one of his best smiles that looked like it should convey an actual message but really didn't. Rodney snorted a whatever, but let the topic drop, although he did start watching John like he wasn't sure what to do with him.

Dessert mostly over, the waitress left the check, which Rodney did not actually let John pay, contrary to his earlier statements. He even managed to be only moderately insulting as he refused to let John pay by reason of being a glorified intern that possibly made more than minimum wage. John pretended to be more insulted than he actually was just to watch McKay trip over himself trying to either apologize or justify himself – it wasn't immediately obvious which the man was going for.

“I mean, I'm sure you do more than an intern and by intern I in no way was implying that you have anything in common with phone manual intern and really, you have a legitimate job if only because you have to deal with people like phone manual intern and somehow cause world peace. And really, they pay me a ridiculous salary, especially for a government job, because of the multiple PhDs, and it's not like I have a weird obsession with creating the largest collection of antique eggplant artwork that I could spend it on, and me paying is just a reflection of logic and does not at all impinge on your masculinity!”

John paused a moment to wonder if Rodney had actually taken a breath somewhere in there, then said, “Wait, did you just say I was the girl?” It took serious effort to keep the corners of his mouth from twitching upwards.

Rodney looked even more flustered and started to deny any such implications, then saw the smirk that John couldn't hide any longer.

“You bastard!” But he was smiling as he said it, so apparently the teasing hadn't been amiss.

“I'm sorry,” John apologized insincerely, still grinning. “That really couldn't have been good for you blood pressure. You're gonna bust a gasket getting that worked up, buddy.”

“Exactly! I'm hypertensive! You making me think I've screwed things up by mortally offending you and raising my blood pressure through the roof could give me an aneurism! Or a stroke! Or a heart attack! And then what would you do?”

John managed to guide McKay out of the restaurant, check successfully paid, while the man listed dire consequences. Rodney was too busy detailing the symptoms of various ailments that may or may not have had anything to do with blood pressure that he apparently didn’t notice John’s hand migrating to the small of his back and guiding him between tables and around a waitress with a fully-loaded tray.

“Well, even if I’d been mortally offended, I’m pretty sure I’d still call 9-1-1 for you,” he drawled when Rodney paused for breath.

“Pretty sure? You’re not sure you would? Or you’re not sure you could? This is my brain we’re talking about!” At this point they were on the sidewalk outside the restaurant

“Well, that eleven sure is hard to find on a cell phone.” John didn’t use much of a southern accent. Just enough to get McKay going.

“You’re kidding, right? Please tell me you’re kidding and I haven’t just spent an hour and a half in the company of a moron with hair and a pretty smile.” Pretty smile? Maybe he did have a shot here, despite McKay’s seeming obliviousness.

“You think I have a pretty smile?” John was aware that he was grinning like a loon instead of giving his properly charming smile, but he couldn’t help himself.

“When you’re not trying to be too charming for your own good,” Rodney admitted, then realized exactly what he’d just said and tensed up. John’s hand pressed a little harder against Rodney’s back, drawing Rodney’s attention to it.

“Oh. Really? Am I reading this right? Because you’re seriously hot and I wasn’t sure if it was a date date or just a ‘your intern abuse is amazing’ dinner,” McKay babbled nervously.

“I’m thinking you’re definitely in the same book as me,” John grinned and let his hand drift even lower as he half turned to face Rodney.

“Ha ha, again with the library references.” The response was quiet, said almost against John’s lips.

John closed the gap between them just as Rodney pulled back to ask, “Are we really doing this?” surprisingly clearly for someone being kissed at the beginning of the sentence.

John growled a little to communicate that yes, participation was required here even as his other hand caught the back of Rodney’s head and pulled him into a much firmer kiss. Rodney apparently got the message and stopped trying to speak, putting his tongue to better use.

When they pulled apart for air a few moments later, Rodney’s warm hands curled around John’s hips, leaving an invisible brand and his own palms under Rodney’s multiple layers of shirts, both were out of breath and rather obviously aroused.

“We need a bed, now,” John practically whined, hips thrusting against Rodney’s, drawing a moan from both of them and emphasizing his point.

“I don’t live too far from here. It’s not much of a drive at this time of night,” Rodney panted, hands tightening on John’s hips as they rocked against him.

Deciding not to comment on the disposable income of someone who both lived ‘not too far’ from Capitol Hill and drove to work at the Library of Congress, John pulled away and started dragging Rodney back towards the library, where Rodney had presumably left his car. Despite moving much more quickly than on the earlier stroll down to the restaurant, the trip to the car seemed to take almost as long as the wait in line that morning.

Rodney, of course, had his very own parking space. Granted, the sign had a number under the ‘Reserved For,’ but it was still rather prestigious for the somewhat battered BMW that couldn’t have been younger than ten years old. The manual windows and door locks (“it has electronic locks, they just haven’t worked since I drove up to Ontario last February!”) didn’t decrease the impression of age.

Rodney wasn’t exaggerating when he said the drive back wasn’t far, even with anticipation lengthening the minutes. The streets certainly weren’t empty, but traffic was heavier going in the opposite direction as they made their way to Rodney’s apartment. It was late enough that even the late joggers and dog walkers were gone and the street in front of Rodney’s building was quiet and empty.

They made it inside the apartment building and to the elevator before John decided he couldn’t keep his hands to himself a second longer. Wrapping himself around Rodney from behind as he called for the elevator, John’s hands went to work on Rodney’s belt while his mouth set to work on the convenient spot behind Rodney’s ear.

Moaning, Rodney half-heartedly tried to push him away. “At least wait until we’re in the elevator! The security guard can still see us!”

“So?” John replied, moving across Rodney’s jaw until their lips met and lazily grinding against Rodney’s ass.

With a ding, the elevator arrived, precluding any discussion of publicity. John released Rodney just long enough to let the man get on and select his floor before he drew him in for another kiss. He was happily discovering just how good a kisser Rodney was when the elevator doors opened at their floor. Managing keys and door locks and two people unwilling to detach from each other long enough to get into the apartment proved tricky, but eventually they were behind a closed door.

“Bed, now,” Rodney said. “You really need to be horizontal for what I’m going to do to you.”

“Naked, don’t forget naked,” John whined as his hands were pulled away from Rodney’s belt, again, and used to pull him through a somewhat messy apartment into a similarly messy bedroom. It had a clear, albeit unmade, king-sized bed, though, so John had no complaints in any department but nakedness levels.

Somehow, Rodney managed to unbutton John’s shirt and get it and his undershirt off of him and start on his pants without a break in the frenzied kissing, while John had barely managed to shove Rodney’s pants down to mid-thigh. He quickly got with the program and soon both of them had shed their remaining clothing.

Naked now, John pressed himself to Rodney, enjoying the other man’s bulk as they continued to kiss. Rodney’s hands, perpetually in motion outside the bedroom, continued that trend, stroking along his back, caressing his face, squeezing a butt cheek, even as his tongue continued to plunder John’s mouth. John just held on and did his level best to give back as good as he got. Judging by his partner’s sound effects, that wasn’t bad at all.

Apparently deciding that a bed was only a good idea if they were actually on it, Rodney walked him back until his legs hit the side, then shoved before John had a chance to react. Taking advantage of the access to John’s chest, he started licking and nipping his way across, finding a nipple and treating it to extra attention when the first lick drew a gasp out of John. He let go only when John was practically out of his mind with need and reduced to totally incoherent pleading.

Moving further south, he stopped to find a ticklish spot below John’s ribs and discover that John became squirmy when a tongue dipped into his bellybutton. Instead of continuing on a straight path down to John’s cock, Rodney veered aside to lick at the crease between thigh and groin and nip at his inner thigh, surprising a moan out of John.

After teasing for another moment, Rodney switched gears and caught hold of the base of John’s shaft. He sucked just the head for a moment then went down on John for real, driving him to the edge in an embarrassingly short amount of time.

John tugged Rodney’s hair until he pulled off with an irritated, “What? I need my hair! Unlike you, I do not grow it like a yeti!” and then returned to the cock in front of him, only to be stopped again.

“No, I’m gonna come.” Ignoring Rodney’s “that’s the point!” he continued, “I wanna get fucked.”

Taking Rodney’s surprised gasp as something other than agreement, John whined, “Please, Rodney.”

“Yes, not disagreeing here. Let me just –“ he dug through the mess in the drawer of the nightstand, finally producing lube.

Rodney’s mouth moved back to his chest as a slick finger slid into him. John pushed back, fucking himself on Rodney’s finger. He was too far gone for sentences, but a steady stream of ‘please, oh god, more’ mixed with moans in an effort to get Rodney to move more quickly.

Finally, Rodney seemed satisfied that he was stretched well enough. If he hadn’t been out of his mind with need, John would have been amused at the care Rodney took. The man definitely didn’t have anything to compensate for, but he wasn’t that big.

“C’mon, fuck me!” John practically sobbed when Rodney pulled away. The librarian shushed him as he shoved a pillow under John’s hips and returned, sliding in with minimal resistance.

Within a few thrusts, Rodney established a fast rhythm; both were too close to the edge for slow or gentle. Balancing his weight on one hand, Rodney reached down and started jerking John off as he pounded into him. Half a dozen strokes later, John was coming all over Rodney’s hand and his own stomach and chest. Rodney followed, John’s orgasm triggering his own.

Flopped next to John, Rodney muttered something about the necessity of repetition before his breathing slowed into sleep.

“Gimme an hour,” John replied, sliding close enough to use Rodney’s shoulder as a pillow and throw an arm around his waist before dropping off himself.

Part 2

Is it bad that I'm making myself goals like "Remember to eat at least 2 meals today?"

2007-09-21T21:58:40Z

It's been a little hectic lately. Some weeks it just does not pay to be an engineering major. At least I've realized that really, I don't want to double in Physics because I like this thing called sleep, even if I sometimes sacrifice it so that my social life actually exists.

Things we have concluded:
A) Procrastination is bad (yes, this does tend to get relearned a lot. So I have a short memory. Don't sue me until the plane I build you fall out of the sky.)
B) It is a Very Good Thing that the anotheratlantis challenge deadline got extended to October 1st, because I'm only about half done.
C) Rugby is the only reason I'm still sane (ish) and have not thrown myself off the top of Fitzpatrick. Or something worse, like switching out of Pratt and pretending to be incapable of math.
D) Rugby in the rain is amazing. (No, this is not new)
E) I wish I had time to read my flist - I'm at least an entire week behind.
F) I have a new hobby - I make lists of what I need to do and call this my fun, relaxing thing to do with my free time.
G) My roommate's side of the room looks depressing - there are a grand total of 2 magazine-sized posters up on the plain white walls.

On Cell Phones and their Finding

2007-09-20T02:37:33Z

My roommate wandered in, handed me a cell phone (missing its battery) and said, "Look what I found in my pants!"

And my reaction (not recognizing or failing to recognize the phone as my roommate's - I've lived here for 4 weeks!) was along the lines of "um... cool? Or did you lose your battery?"

It turns out that it got mixed in with a load of laundry in our basement laundromat somehow (seriously? how do you lose your cell phone in some else's dryer? what is wrong with my dormmates?), not that I have a roommate with an odd fondness for squirrelling things away in pants.

Anyway, in honor of "Look what I found in my pants!" I bring you...

In case you lose your cell phone, you may want to check here to see if one of these collectors has found it...

Wikihow gave me this in response to 'look what i found in my pants' and I have no idea why

Learn how to consult the I Ching (in someone's pants, apparently... don't look at me, I definitely didn't write the algorithms that run this!)

Randomness

2007-09-13T19:45:21Z

I'm seeing a distinct trend in how much I write on days where I have to hold office hours. Since office hours are in a basement computer lab removoved from just about everything I find distracting and procrastination-inducing, writing becomes the preferred method of homework procrastination. And clearly, I'm the most attentive TA ever. Yeah, ok, I don't buy that either, but there are never many people on Wednesdays and four TAs scheduled at all times, so usually we outnumber the students.

And really, the entire reason for this post is to procrastinate on packing for my flight in 3 hours. I'm on the ball, here.

Have a link to some rather random obscure sports!

procrastination update

2007-09-13T06:11:54Z

So maybe I'm not quite progressing as quickly as I'd planned... it's not my fault that they won't just shut up and get to the pr0n! Although it is my fault that I chose to do homework instead of writing. On multiple occasions. Lucky for me the deadline got pushed back to October 1st if I need it, huh?

4,287 / 10,000
(42.9%)

Progress!

2007-09-06T21:34:53Z

Yes, I'm still procrastinating by writing, but still, it's a good thing, right?

Anyway, I can't help but do the word count meter thingy, because a) I am pathetic and b) it looks so shiny!

1,809 / 10,000
(18.1%)

I've reformed!

2007-09-06T03:56:38Z

I actually started something a full ten days before it's due! That's right, I actually started writing for the anotheratlantisthingy (yes, that's the technical term!)

So this isn't really not procrastinating, it's just picking this over actual homework that's due, oh, tomorrow.

Also, my roommate is amazing because she gave me her bubble wrap. That is all.

ETA

2007-09-04T16:36:13Z

So, about that math homework... at 3:30 I gave up and slept until 6:30, got up, and went back to it. There's something wrong when your assignment takes up 14 pages! Think of the trees!

Anyway, I have learned my lesson and will not do this again. Ever. Or, until next week.

Also, the freshmen this year are using rolling suitcases to bring their books to class. *is puzzled* Suitcases? All you generally need is paper, something to write with, and if you're unfortunate enough to take a class that requires reading, the stuff you read! This begets the question: what are they putting in there? Bodies? A pet? The TI-9235276 SuperCalcuputer?