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hackthis_archive) wrote2006-11-20 01:01 pm
hackthis_archive) wrote2006-11-20 01:01 pm
Entry tags:
Repost: SGA -- Kick, Push, Coast (Birthday!Fic)
1. For those of you who have not seen Latter Days (Mormon boy + California out-n-proud = surprisingly heartfelt and HOT movie), you really really must. REALLY.
2. So I was reading People's Sexiest Man Alive this morning, because, hello RESEARCH MATERIAL, and they asked George who he would pick as People's Sexiest Man Alive. He said Matt Damon. Can we just have a moment and consider that I wrote that story on Wednesday even though the magazine didn't come out until FRIDAY. (As recounted to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
serialkarma)
slodwick's birthday is on November 23rd. My birthday is on November 27th (as is mei_x's – Happy Early Joint Birthday, Mei). rageprufrock's is November 28th. This is dedicated to the birthday girls. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LADIES!
Stargate: Atlantis
General spoilers. Skateboarding!John fic.
Kick, Push, Coast
For his sixth birthday John Aaron Sheppard asked his parents for a skateboard; his father said no. Skateboards were for long-haired hippies from the West Coast, not military brats who were living down South. Skateboarders were like surfers -- rag-tag, good-for-nothing slackers -- and no son of General Sam Sheppard was going to be associated with such nonsense. General Sheppard's son had a standard to meet, and he was going to meet it whether he liked it or not. So, for John's sixth birthday he got two sweaters, a model airplane, and a set of green plastic soldiers.
*
For John Sheppard's seventh birthday, he asked again for a skateboard. His father said no. Except that John's father wasn't actually around for his seventh birthday, and the denial came via a long distance phone call from someplace John wasn't even supposed to ask about. His mother took him to see Blazing Saddles, and at some point John fell asleep with her stroking his hair.
*
For John's eighth birthday, he didn't ask for anything. On the morning of his birthday there was a small box from his father by his breakfast plate. John didn't even have to look to know it was a model plane, and at lunch his mother brought cupcakes to his second grade class. The cupcakes were lemon with chocolate icing, and John's classmates got two-a-piece because their class was so small. When John got home there was a long cardboard box on his bed with a red bow on top and a white card that said:
To: John
Love: Mom
John could hardly even open the box through his fumbling fingers even though it had already been cut open and resealed to make things easier. John was so excited to have his skateboard that he tripped down the stairs, and stumbled across the living room to where his mother was placidly watching Search for Tomorrow and knitting in his father's chair.
She just smiled and told him to be careful.
*
It took John less than five minutes to fall off of his skateboard and bust his lip. For a week he talked with a lisp, but his father never noticed, because his father wasn't home in the first place. He didn't even call to wish John a happy birthday until eight days after the fact. By then John's lisp was gone, and he'd replaced it with two scraped knees and a few pieces of gravel embedded in his hands. While his father drilled him on the phone about the model airplane he'd sent, John picked tiny pieces of rock out of his palms, and answered, "Yes, sir," at appropriate intervals.
*
General Sam Sheppard didn't approve of his wife buying their son a skateboard. He disapproved so much that when he found out about John's skateboard he ran it over with his car, but John was many things, including resourceful –- he learned that from his dad.
Affixing the two sets of wheels from the roller skates he'd sweet talked out of the girl next door to a plank of wood were just as good as a skateboard. Mobile was mobile and getting away was getting away. John only came back because his mother was there, and he couldn't live on mowing lawns in Athens, Georgia.
He'd done his own analysis, and twenty-five cents per lawn could only cover so many peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but if you saved them up they could buy you a really great skateboard to get you around.
*
When John Sheppard was fourteen his family moved to Vandenberg Air Force Base and that was where John met the girl who changed everything. Well, John didn't meet her as much as he caught her watching him trying to do ollies in the beach parking lot one afternoon and decided to impress her.
The girl had dark brown hair and sharp blue eyes, and she visibly winced as John tried to do a grind off of a parking stop and summarily fell on his ass.
It took John a moment to realize she was now standing beside him, because his ass kind of hurt. "Real slick there, dude," she said flipping her bangs out of her eyes before grabbing his board.
John sprung to his feet. "Hey."
"Hey."
"I was just messing around," John said a bit lamely.
The girl raised an eyebrow, but didn't offer him back his board, and John blinked. Girls in Michigan had adored him. They had thought he was amazing with his skateboard and his soft drawl. This girl wasn’t impressed.
"It's the gravel," he said a bit lamely. "I'm not used to it, but I could take you around if you want."
The girl snorted. "I'm waiting on my brother," she said dismissively.
"Your broth—"
John's voice died off at the sound of wheels grinding, and he looked up when a shadow blocked out the sun. He kept looking up.
Before him was the tallest, lankiest, tannest teenager he'd ever seen. He had long brown hair like his sister, and not only was he on a skateboard, but he was carrying a surfboard.
John's palms began to sweat.
"What's up, little dudes?" the shadow said.
John blinked. The shadow sighed. "Pen -- you know mom said if she caught you stealing skateboards again she was going to take yours away."
The girl -- Pen -- sighed. "If this moron isn't worthy of his board, then I should totally do him a favor and take it away."
Her brother sighed. "Look, dude, chill. I don't have time for your female histrionics--"
"I am not having female histrionics," Pen snapped. "Stupid mom hippie shit."
Pen's brother snorted. "Whatever, small fry, give your boyfriend his board back, and I'll let you use mine while I'm riding the waves."
"He's not my boyfriend," Pen hissed. And the way she said it made John sound like a virus. It was certainly different from all the fawning cheerleaders at his prior two middle schools -- he couldn't tell if he liked it or not.
Pen was quiet for a moment. Her brother flipped his own bangs out of his face, and Pen immediately mimicked him. John rubbed the back of his neck; maybe he'd forget to remind his mom to cut his hair and see if he could get his hair to do that.
"You'll teach me how to do slides too?" Pen demanded.
Her brother sighed. "You're making me miss all the good waves," he complained.
"Slides," Pen insisted, "Or I tell mom you've been taking all the apples to make bongs."
"Penny, you are a drag," her brother said somewhat affectionately while effortlessly kicking his board upright.
John nearly dropped his own board when Penny thrust it into his hands, before grabbing her brother's skateboard eagerly. "Don't let her boss you around, little dude," Penny's brother said. "If you want, I'll teach you too."
It was on the tip of John's tongue to say 'Yes!' when Penny interrupted him. "Only if you can keep up," she said, dropping her brother's board and pouncing on it.
John blinked as she took off. "You better get moving," Penny's brother said a bit proudly, "she'll kick your ass if you can't keep up."
*
They stayed in Santa Barbara eighteen months. Long enough for John to learn how to stand on his surfboard, do a grind on his skateboard, and to fall in lust with Penny's brother, Rob.
*
John was too relaxed for South Carolina. According to some of his teammates on the basketball team he was too California. Too easy, too laconic, too long hair, a little too perfectly off-center. It was amazing how many people you could piss off if you skipped practice to go board in the park.
*
His name was Luke; he wasn't John's type, because John's type was cheerleaders that he teased but never pressed into the backseats of cars, and jocks who stared in the showers when they thought nobody was looking. Luke was a scrawny dark shock of hair, huge brown eyes and jeans that wouldn't stay up because they were the hand-me-downs that Luke always got from his older brother.
Luke was "disrespectful and mouthy" to the teachers in school and only showed up to take tests. He liked to kick the legs of John's chair and whisper dirty jokes in John's ear when they were supposed to be answering essay questions about Hamlet and his relationship with Horatio.
Luke had two skateboards in a town that didn't even lock its doors after dark, and the first time John woke up in the middle of the night to find Luke knocking on his bedroom window, he got a hard-on that made it almost impossible for him to put on his jeans.
They were long past the Sheppard driveway and four houses down before John spoke. "Where're we going?" John mouthed the words into Luke's ear as though he'd left his voice at home. The General was in town and this was a stupid thing for him to do, but he'd been doing stupid things his whole life according to his dad.
Luke's eyes glittered in the Carolina night, and his teeth were strangely blue in the dark. "I've got a surprise for you," was all he said, ducking behind a grove of trees that looked like all the others on the deserted road.
He emerged a second later with his skateboards. "C'mon," Luke said thrusting one board into John's hands, but not letting go when John took hold.
They stood there for a moment -- Luke staring at John and John still half-asleep and not getting it at all.
And then the penny dropped.
The kiss wasn't very good -- too many teeth, too much saliva, Luke dropping both boards on the ground because John's fingers were tangling in his hair and pulling strands out.
John was still processing when Luke pulled away and mounted his board.
John hadn't seen it coming at all. Except, yeah, he had.
"Are you coming, Sheppard?" Luke's voice was all lazy Carolina drawl and he was halfway down the road, before John remembered why they were there at all.
That was the first night John did a 180 in a half pipe. That was also the night John lost his virginity behind a hayloft in a farmhouse.
*
Cal-Tech was like heaven on earth. Pasadena was leafy and green and the streets were paved in that way that only upper middle class neighborhoods were. They were perfect for skateboarding and the street luge and skipping class altogether to take the 101 to Malibu.
John didn't have a car, but the teaching assistant in Aeronautical Dynamics 103 did.
Scott was from Venice, so he knew all the best surfing spots. He had friends who had friends, and Scott knew all the secret places to take John where they could surf and make out on private beaches afterwards and then surf some more.
Scott was long and lean like Rob had been when John was fourteen and just trying to figure out if he liked boys because they could skateboard, or just like skateboarders in general, and if so, why didn't he like Penny, too.
John didn't go home for Christmas or Thanksgiving or anything if he could help it while he was in school, because in December in Los Angeles it was 90 degrees by mid-day, and who would sit around a silent dinner table eating grief and disappointment and canned cranberries when they could hit the skate park after a long day of getting sand in places it didn’t belong in the first place?
*
The Air Force did not condone its officers going from place to place via skateboard. After John's third disciplinary action, his XO made a deal with John that if John didn't mention seeing him getting head in the local bar from a Marine, John could skateboard as much as he wanted. John wasn't the blackmailing type -- his XO thought it up all on his own.
*
John didn't take his skateboard to Afghanistan and when he got back all his personal effects had somehow been 'lost.' The first thing John did after the hearing and while waiting for reassignment was find the nearest skate shop and buy a new deck and wheels. The air in Colorado Springs was thin, but the hills were great, and if people had never seen a military officer in full dress zooming the neighborhood and falling when he tried moves he hadn't done in years, they didn't say anything to his face.
*
There was no place to skateboard in Antarctica, but that didn't stop John from terrorizing the halls in the wee hours when most of McMurdo asleep and security was at a minimum. He bribed guards with oranges and out-dated pornography and did kick flips in hallway intersections. Sometimes he thought about what his life would've been like if he'd asked for something else for his sixth birthday, something innocuous like a bike.
*
The second night they were in Atlantis, John took his board out for an exploratory run. Sumner was dead and John was the military commander of Atlantis -– he highly doubted anybody was going to give him shit about his skateboarding in the wee hours.
Atlantis' hallways were smooth and perfect; John's wheels never lost speed or traction. He never hit a crack and wobbled. There was never a too sharp turn that would send him flying into the wall. There were stairs for jumping and railings where John would never have expected them. There were little dips that were like ramps and Atlantis lit up everywhere John wanted to go.
Atlantis was like a perfectly sentient skate park for John alone. He'd told her he didn't want to see anyone, and she kept him well away from the residential areas, so he was rather taken aback to find she'd led him a little far off the approved track. He was even more surprised when he realized there was someone else there first.
"Dr. McKay." John's board stuttered to a stop at the balcony entryway, and he kicked the tail up and into his waiting hand. He would've recognized the imperious set of shoulders anywhere.
McKay turned around with a start and something flashed across his face briefly when he saw his company. "Major," he said, "if you kill off the most brilliant person on this expedition by giving me a heart attack, and you're forced to rely on your mouse-sized military intellect to save the day I expect you'll all be dead by dinnertime tomorrow."
"I'll try to keep that in the forefront of my mouse-sized intellect," John said dryly.
McKay narrowed his eyes. "Don't condescend to me -- do you even know how to spell 'condescend'? -- and oh my god, is that a skateboard? Wonderful, I've always wanted to leave my life in the hands of Bill and Ted. Do you still have your membership in the Keanu Reeves Fan Club, too?"
Not in a million years did John think McKay was the sort of guy to drop pop culture references into his conversations, but that wasn't the point. "Don't harsh my buzz, dude," John said idly.
"We're all doomed," McKay groaned.
"Does that mean you don't want a ride on my skateboard?" John asked breezily.
It was John's imagination that McKay swallowed uneasily. "Condescend is spelled 'Be nice to the man who is responsible for saving your civilian ass'" John carried on amiably. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to continue on with my most excellent adventure. Have a nice evening, Dr. McKay."
John turned sharply and dropped his board. He didn't wait for McKay's farewell, but as he was leaving he could’ve sworn he heard McKay say, "Party on, dude."
-end-
Inspired, heavily influenced, and title from Lupe Fiasco's 'Kick Push'.
Dedicated to my joint birthday girls andserialkarma who did beta duty on a story she helped inspire.
2. So I was reading People's Sexiest Man Alive this morning, because, hello RESEARCH MATERIAL, and they asked George who he would pick as People's Sexiest Man Alive. He said Matt Damon. Can we just have a moment and consider that I wrote that story on Wednesday even though the magazine didn't come out until FRIDAY. (As recounted to
serialkarma)slodwick's birthday is on November 23rd. My birthday is on November 27th (as is mei_x's – Happy Early Joint Birthday, Mei). rageprufrock's is November 28th. This is dedicated to the birthday girls. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LADIES!Stargate: Atlantis
General spoilers. Skateboarding!John fic.
For his sixth birthday John Aaron Sheppard asked his parents for a skateboard; his father said no. Skateboards were for long-haired hippies from the West Coast, not military brats who were living down South. Skateboarders were like surfers -- rag-tag, good-for-nothing slackers -- and no son of General Sam Sheppard was going to be associated with such nonsense. General Sheppard's son had a standard to meet, and he was going to meet it whether he liked it or not. So, for John's sixth birthday he got two sweaters, a model airplane, and a set of green plastic soldiers.
For John Sheppard's seventh birthday, he asked again for a skateboard. His father said no. Except that John's father wasn't actually around for his seventh birthday, and the denial came via a long distance phone call from someplace John wasn't even supposed to ask about. His mother took him to see Blazing Saddles, and at some point John fell asleep with her stroking his hair.
For John's eighth birthday, he didn't ask for anything. On the morning of his birthday there was a small box from his father by his breakfast plate. John didn't even have to look to know it was a model plane, and at lunch his mother brought cupcakes to his second grade class. The cupcakes were lemon with chocolate icing, and John's classmates got two-a-piece because their class was so small. When John got home there was a long cardboard box on his bed with a red bow on top and a white card that said:
To: John
Love: Mom
John could hardly even open the box through his fumbling fingers even though it had already been cut open and resealed to make things easier. John was so excited to have his skateboard that he tripped down the stairs, and stumbled across the living room to where his mother was placidly watching Search for Tomorrow and knitting in his father's chair.
She just smiled and told him to be careful.
It took John less than five minutes to fall off of his skateboard and bust his lip. For a week he talked with a lisp, but his father never noticed, because his father wasn't home in the first place. He didn't even call to wish John a happy birthday until eight days after the fact. By then John's lisp was gone, and he'd replaced it with two scraped knees and a few pieces of gravel embedded in his hands. While his father drilled him on the phone about the model airplane he'd sent, John picked tiny pieces of rock out of his palms, and answered, "Yes, sir," at appropriate intervals.
General Sam Sheppard didn't approve of his wife buying their son a skateboard. He disapproved so much that when he found out about John's skateboard he ran it over with his car, but John was many things, including resourceful –- he learned that from his dad.
Affixing the two sets of wheels from the roller skates he'd sweet talked out of the girl next door to a plank of wood were just as good as a skateboard. Mobile was mobile and getting away was getting away. John only came back because his mother was there, and he couldn't live on mowing lawns in Athens, Georgia.
He'd done his own analysis, and twenty-five cents per lawn could only cover so many peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but if you saved them up they could buy you a really great skateboard to get you around.
When John Sheppard was fourteen his family moved to Vandenberg Air Force Base and that was where John met the girl who changed everything. Well, John didn't meet her as much as he caught her watching him trying to do ollies in the beach parking lot one afternoon and decided to impress her.
The girl had dark brown hair and sharp blue eyes, and she visibly winced as John tried to do a grind off of a parking stop and summarily fell on his ass.
It took John a moment to realize she was now standing beside him, because his ass kind of hurt. "Real slick there, dude," she said flipping her bangs out of her eyes before grabbing his board.
John sprung to his feet. "Hey."
"Hey."
"I was just messing around," John said a bit lamely.
The girl raised an eyebrow, but didn't offer him back his board, and John blinked. Girls in Michigan had adored him. They had thought he was amazing with his skateboard and his soft drawl. This girl wasn’t impressed.
"It's the gravel," he said a bit lamely. "I'm not used to it, but I could take you around if you want."
The girl snorted. "I'm waiting on my brother," she said dismissively.
"Your broth—"
John's voice died off at the sound of wheels grinding, and he looked up when a shadow blocked out the sun. He kept looking up.
Before him was the tallest, lankiest, tannest teenager he'd ever seen. He had long brown hair like his sister, and not only was he on a skateboard, but he was carrying a surfboard.
John's palms began to sweat.
"What's up, little dudes?" the shadow said.
John blinked. The shadow sighed. "Pen -- you know mom said if she caught you stealing skateboards again she was going to take yours away."
The girl -- Pen -- sighed. "If this moron isn't worthy of his board, then I should totally do him a favor and take it away."
Her brother sighed. "Look, dude, chill. I don't have time for your female histrionics--"
"I am not having female histrionics," Pen snapped. "Stupid mom hippie shit."
Pen's brother snorted. "Whatever, small fry, give your boyfriend his board back, and I'll let you use mine while I'm riding the waves."
"He's not my boyfriend," Pen hissed. And the way she said it made John sound like a virus. It was certainly different from all the fawning cheerleaders at his prior two middle schools -- he couldn't tell if he liked it or not.
Pen was quiet for a moment. Her brother flipped his own bangs out of his face, and Pen immediately mimicked him. John rubbed the back of his neck; maybe he'd forget to remind his mom to cut his hair and see if he could get his hair to do that.
"You'll teach me how to do slides too?" Pen demanded.
Her brother sighed. "You're making me miss all the good waves," he complained.
"Slides," Pen insisted, "Or I tell mom you've been taking all the apples to make bongs."
"Penny, you are a drag," her brother said somewhat affectionately while effortlessly kicking his board upright.
John nearly dropped his own board when Penny thrust it into his hands, before grabbing her brother's skateboard eagerly. "Don't let her boss you around, little dude," Penny's brother said. "If you want, I'll teach you too."
It was on the tip of John's tongue to say 'Yes!' when Penny interrupted him. "Only if you can keep up," she said, dropping her brother's board and pouncing on it.
John blinked as she took off. "You better get moving," Penny's brother said a bit proudly, "she'll kick your ass if you can't keep up."
They stayed in Santa Barbara eighteen months. Long enough for John to learn how to stand on his surfboard, do a grind on his skateboard, and to fall in lust with Penny's brother, Rob.
John was too relaxed for South Carolina. According to some of his teammates on the basketball team he was too California. Too easy, too laconic, too long hair, a little too perfectly off-center. It was amazing how many people you could piss off if you skipped practice to go board in the park.
His name was Luke; he wasn't John's type, because John's type was cheerleaders that he teased but never pressed into the backseats of cars, and jocks who stared in the showers when they thought nobody was looking. Luke was a scrawny dark shock of hair, huge brown eyes and jeans that wouldn't stay up because they were the hand-me-downs that Luke always got from his older brother.
Luke was "disrespectful and mouthy" to the teachers in school and only showed up to take tests. He liked to kick the legs of John's chair and whisper dirty jokes in John's ear when they were supposed to be answering essay questions about Hamlet and his relationship with Horatio.
Luke had two skateboards in a town that didn't even lock its doors after dark, and the first time John woke up in the middle of the night to find Luke knocking on his bedroom window, he got a hard-on that made it almost impossible for him to put on his jeans.
They were long past the Sheppard driveway and four houses down before John spoke. "Where're we going?" John mouthed the words into Luke's ear as though he'd left his voice at home. The General was in town and this was a stupid thing for him to do, but he'd been doing stupid things his whole life according to his dad.
Luke's eyes glittered in the Carolina night, and his teeth were strangely blue in the dark. "I've got a surprise for you," was all he said, ducking behind a grove of trees that looked like all the others on the deserted road.
He emerged a second later with his skateboards. "C'mon," Luke said thrusting one board into John's hands, but not letting go when John took hold.
They stood there for a moment -- Luke staring at John and John still half-asleep and not getting it at all.
And then the penny dropped.
The kiss wasn't very good -- too many teeth, too much saliva, Luke dropping both boards on the ground because John's fingers were tangling in his hair and pulling strands out.
John was still processing when Luke pulled away and mounted his board.
John hadn't seen it coming at all. Except, yeah, he had.
"Are you coming, Sheppard?" Luke's voice was all lazy Carolina drawl and he was halfway down the road, before John remembered why they were there at all.
That was the first night John did a 180 in a half pipe. That was also the night John lost his virginity behind a hayloft in a farmhouse.
Cal-Tech was like heaven on earth. Pasadena was leafy and green and the streets were paved in that way that only upper middle class neighborhoods were. They were perfect for skateboarding and the street luge and skipping class altogether to take the 101 to Malibu.
John didn't have a car, but the teaching assistant in Aeronautical Dynamics 103 did.
Scott was from Venice, so he knew all the best surfing spots. He had friends who had friends, and Scott knew all the secret places to take John where they could surf and make out on private beaches afterwards and then surf some more.
Scott was long and lean like Rob had been when John was fourteen and just trying to figure out if he liked boys because they could skateboard, or just like skateboarders in general, and if so, why didn't he like Penny, too.
John didn't go home for Christmas or Thanksgiving or anything if he could help it while he was in school, because in December in Los Angeles it was 90 degrees by mid-day, and who would sit around a silent dinner table eating grief and disappointment and canned cranberries when they could hit the skate park after a long day of getting sand in places it didn’t belong in the first place?
The Air Force did not condone its officers going from place to place via skateboard. After John's third disciplinary action, his XO made a deal with John that if John didn't mention seeing him getting head in the local bar from a Marine, John could skateboard as much as he wanted. John wasn't the blackmailing type -- his XO thought it up all on his own.
John didn't take his skateboard to Afghanistan and when he got back all his personal effects had somehow been 'lost.' The first thing John did after the hearing and while waiting for reassignment was find the nearest skate shop and buy a new deck and wheels. The air in Colorado Springs was thin, but the hills were great, and if people had never seen a military officer in full dress zooming the neighborhood and falling when he tried moves he hadn't done in years, they didn't say anything to his face.
There was no place to skateboard in Antarctica, but that didn't stop John from terrorizing the halls in the wee hours when most of McMurdo asleep and security was at a minimum. He bribed guards with oranges and out-dated pornography and did kick flips in hallway intersections. Sometimes he thought about what his life would've been like if he'd asked for something else for his sixth birthday, something innocuous like a bike.
The second night they were in Atlantis, John took his board out for an exploratory run. Sumner was dead and John was the military commander of Atlantis -– he highly doubted anybody was going to give him shit about his skateboarding in the wee hours.
Atlantis' hallways were smooth and perfect; John's wheels never lost speed or traction. He never hit a crack and wobbled. There was never a too sharp turn that would send him flying into the wall. There were stairs for jumping and railings where John would never have expected them. There were little dips that were like ramps and Atlantis lit up everywhere John wanted to go.
Atlantis was like a perfectly sentient skate park for John alone. He'd told her he didn't want to see anyone, and she kept him well away from the residential areas, so he was rather taken aback to find she'd led him a little far off the approved track. He was even more surprised when he realized there was someone else there first.
"Dr. McKay." John's board stuttered to a stop at the balcony entryway, and he kicked the tail up and into his waiting hand. He would've recognized the imperious set of shoulders anywhere.
McKay turned around with a start and something flashed across his face briefly when he saw his company. "Major," he said, "if you kill off the most brilliant person on this expedition by giving me a heart attack, and you're forced to rely on your mouse-sized military intellect to save the day I expect you'll all be dead by dinnertime tomorrow."
"I'll try to keep that in the forefront of my mouse-sized intellect," John said dryly.
McKay narrowed his eyes. "Don't condescend to me -- do you even know how to spell 'condescend'? -- and oh my god, is that a skateboard? Wonderful, I've always wanted to leave my life in the hands of Bill and Ted. Do you still have your membership in the Keanu Reeves Fan Club, too?"
Not in a million years did John think McKay was the sort of guy to drop pop culture references into his conversations, but that wasn't the point. "Don't harsh my buzz, dude," John said idly.
"We're all doomed," McKay groaned.
"Does that mean you don't want a ride on my skateboard?" John asked breezily.
It was John's imagination that McKay swallowed uneasily. "Condescend is spelled 'Be nice to the man who is responsible for saving your civilian ass'" John carried on amiably. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to continue on with my most excellent adventure. Have a nice evening, Dr. McKay."
John turned sharply and dropped his board. He didn't wait for McKay's farewell, but as he was leaving he could’ve sworn he heard McKay say, "Party on, dude."
-end-
Inspired, heavily influenced, and title from Lupe Fiasco's 'Kick Push'.
Dedicated to my joint birthday girls and
serialkarma who did beta duty on a story she helped inspire.
no subject
*peers out of George's eyeballs suspiciously*
no subject
;)
*peers at George's eyeballs even more suspiciously*