hackthis_archive | SGA -- The Pegasus School for the Gifted and Talented (Sheppard/McKay)

slodwick made a manip featuring John and Rodney at Pegasus University. In my brain that some how translated to Pegasus University for Kids, so this is my unofficial entry for the 1000 word challenge, because I had to default last year. Okay, so it's like a few more words than 1000. Whatevs.

Stargate: Atlantis
Alternate Universe
John Sheppard/Rodney McKay, and fourteen 6 year-olds
The Pegasus School for the Gifted and Talented

Sandy Grady was eating paste. Again.

John rubbed his forehead and sighed. He'd talked with both Mrs. Grady and the other Mrs. Grady about this 'habit' and he didn't know what else to do. At first he'd assumed it was just a phase, but then she realized there were other options, and John was becoming hard pressed to explain to the other parents why their children were always pasted together in groups of six and seven.

Time outs, rewards, they'd even tried just taking the paste away, but it was hard to have Arts & Crafts without paste, and -- and crap.

John was across the room in record time, stepping over Declan Harris who was stretched out on the floor, making snow angels on the linoleum.

It didn't matter that it was April and this was Santa Monica, California. Declan had a thing about snow angels, and as long as he was quiet and not trying to deconstruct John's desk again, they were okay.

"Sandy," he said, gently attempting to extract the paste from her rather solid six-year-old grip. "I don't think Bobby wants to eat paste too."

"He didn't say 'no'," Sandy countered, not letting go of the white jar.

"Yes, but did he ask you to?"

"Didn't say no," Sandy stuck our her lower lip, her golden curls flying back and forth as she shook her head defiantly. Clearly she had a promising future as a defense attorney, just like her mothers.

"Okay," John conceded, "but what did we say about putting paste on other people?"

Sandy's lip jutted out even further. "Don't remember," she said obstinately.

John sighed and turned toward Bobby Caldman, who had the rather terrified look of someone who didn't know what to make of the fact that someone else had just smeared paste all over his mouth. He licked at his lips tentatively and made a face.

"Yuck," he said, wiping at the paste with the sleeve of his shirt and getting it all over his face. "Tastes like girls," Bobby stated firmly.

John sighed.

He loved his classes. He really did. They were brilliant kids; sometimes they were a little too brilliant.

"Doesn't taste like girls!" Sandy shot back.

"Does too!" Bobby retorted.

"Does not!" Sandy shrieked.

John grabbed the jar of paste away before Sandy could throw it at Bobby's head. "Sandy, no throwing," he chided sharply.

Sandy blinked rapidly. It was extraordinarily rare for John to show any sort of anger or discipline in his classes; actually discipline of any sort was rare at the Pegasus School.

Elizabeth Weir, the head master, was insistent that the kids be allowed to express themselves as unique and talented individuals -- the Pegasus Motto being: "All children are special in any universe."

Bobby wiped at his mouth again, only this time his shirt got caught on the side of his cheek. "Mr. Sheppard, I'm stuck," he said with more confusion than real concern.

John smiled brightly. Too brightly. Crouching down he picked up Bobby and perched him on one hip, holding tightly onto the jar of paste. Sandy was a tricky kid; he didn’t even know where she'd gotten this paste from since today was supposed to be a drawing day. It was like the universe was conspiring against him, and he winced when Bobby elbowed him in the ear.

"Sorry, Mr. Sheppard," Bobby said.

"Don't worry about it, Champ," John replied. "Sandy, why don't you go draw with Celia and Gavin at the blue table," he gestured towards a table near the back which was discernable by the fact that the entire surface – front, back, legs, even the screws -– had been colored rather thoroughly by Ortiz Cruz and his twin sister Lupe in cornflower blue.

It had taken 98 cornflower blue crayons for them to be satisfied with their project, and to Elizabeth's credit, when John had first asked for 100 boxes of Crayolas she hadn't even asked why.

Sandy pulled in her lower lip a bit as though thinking about it. "Okay."

John watched her scarper over to her classmates, and then while carrying Bobby over to the sink to clean him up, mentally put another notch on his slate.

That was sixteen wars he'd already won this morning -- of course he'd lost five, but he was improving. At the start of the year his kids had eaten him alive for three weeks. There was a big difference between ordering around airmen and ordering around six-year-old prodigies.

"Don't like girls," Bobby complained as John set the paste on a high shelf and then put Bobby on the floor.

John wiped at Bobby's face with a warm wash-cloth to separate his shirt from his face. "Don't you think you're a little young to write them all off?" he asked, gingerly pulling Bobby's shirt away from his skin.

Bobby shook his head violently. "Girls are poo-poo heads."

John did not laugh. At least not out loud. "Language," he reminded Bobby.

Now it was Bobby's turn to pout. "You know your mom is a girl," John pointed out.

Bobby frowned, "Nuh uh."

John paused. No, Bobby's mom was definitely female; it was Libby's mom who was the transsexual. In this class, Sandy had two moms and Jamie Armstrong had two dads. There had been a whole seminar at the beginning of the year about what kids had what sort of families; Elizabeth was nothing if not politically correct.

"I think, if you ask her, you'll find she is." John could've just said Bobby was wrong, but that was something else that was frowned upon at the Pegasus School. Children were never wrong -- they were just misinformed or acting out.

"Mr. Sheppard," Rodney McKay's voice was deceptively light as it carried from the doorway. "I've come to pick up my despoiled goods."

John bit back the grin, but he couldn't contain the snort.

Bobby looked up at John and frowned. "What's 'despoiled'?" he asked as John gave his face one final once over.

John caught Declan Harris and his shadow, Paul Rubenstein, listening in. "It means you should all go give Dr. McKay a big hug," he announced to the class in his best Major voice.

There was a terrific cacophony of chairs being pushed back and squeaking, and then Rodney was being attacked by fourteen six-year old children.

Clearly John's powers of persuasion were better than formidable -- they were awesome.

"Unhand me you sniveling hordes," Rodney protested as his entire class threw themselves at him. In the case of Viola Carter, literally. John caught her just before she landed on her face.

"Try it again," he said, setting her on her feet and patting her on the back as she ran to squeeze in between Declan and Sophie Roberts.

"Cease and desist with the shenanigans and emoting at once!" Rodney demanded, trying to disentangle himself from his students and looking as though he wanted to crawl under one of the kids' desks, which John silently marked off as victory #17 for the day.

John stood there with his arms crossed and a huge smile on his face, reveling in his power. Eventually the look on Rodney's face went from uncomfortably horrified to resigned defeat, and John called back the troops.

John clapped his hands for attention. "Okay, guys, clean up your stuff and then line up to go back to class. Don't forget to put away your crayons and paper, no coloring on anybody else's drawing, and Jackson, no more eating crayons."

John froze in place for a moment while the kids streamed around him and then he crossed the room to Rodney, who looked as though he'd just come back from a war zone.

"I'll get you for that, Sheppard," Rodney hissed, "and your little dog too."

John laughed and leaned against the doorframe, keeping one eye on the kids and the other on Rodney. "I couldn't help myself," he admitted good-naturedly. "You loved it, Rodney, admit it."

Rodney huffed and puffed like a bird ruffling his feathers. "I'll admit no such thing," he said obstinately.

"Well, I thought it was cute," John admitted, his hair falling in his eyes momentarily before he batted it back.

Rodney colored slightly. "Yes, well you're brain-damaged, so of course sycophantic six-year olds are perfect for you -– this is no surprise to me."

"I wonder what would surprise you," John drawled softly, raising an eyebrow, and Rodney's cheeks flushed slightly darker, his eyes darting everywhere but in John's direction.

"I -- that –- has Sandy –- you let her eat paste again?" Rodney hissed after a moment. "I leave my students with you for five minutes, and you don't even have the admittedly uncommon common sense to keep them from trying to kill themselves? If you've thwarted the next Einstein with your froufy artsy endeavors I'll sue on their behalf. Obviously the trusties were blinded by your, your --" Rodney waved at John's casual ensemble and scuffed Chuck Taylors.

"My what?" John asked curiously.

"Your –- you," Rodney insisted, glaring at John in irritation.

"Lookie, Dr. McKay," Celia Ramirez bounded up to them, waving her picture proudly.

Rodney shook his head. "What did I say about such words as 'lookie'?" Rodney chided.

"Lookie," Celia insisted.

Rodney glanced up despairingly and John shrugged.

"Yes, Ceila, that's a great, um," Rodney looked at John.

"Unicorn," John prompted.

"A unicorn!"

Celia Parker scowled. "A flying unicorn!" she corrected.

"A pegasus," John said helpfully.

Rodney cleared his throat. "A pegasus. Right, yes, of course," he looked around at the stragglers who weren't lining up behind Celia. "When the rest of you heathens are quite done, we need to get back to real learning."

"This is real learning," John protested.

"No, this is learning how to emulate John Sheppard 101," Rodney corrected. This was an old argument between them, at least since the second day of classes. Rodney was convinced that John was wasting himself teaching the kids Arts & Crafts when he could be enriching their minds with Fluid Dynamics.

"I think someone needs a timeout," John teased.

"Please, there are children present," Rodney said, pretending to be scandalized. "Line up straight," he called to his students. "Paul, stop sticking your finger in Carrie's ear. Bobby, stop picking your nose. Everybody else ready?"

Fourteen high-pitched voices answered affirmatively, and Rodney waved his kids out the door. "I'm right behind you," he said, "so if you even think about staging a line coup, you'll be sorry."

"Coup like a chicken coo's?" Declan asked as he passed.

Paul squawked in reply.

"Chickens don't coo!" Rodney protested. "Doves coo!"

John snickered.

"Oh god," Rodney sighed, "they were so brilliant before you arrived."

"So, I'll see you after work?" John asked softly as the last child left.

"Only if you're good and don't eat any paste," Rodney replied.

"Please, there are children present," John parroted back.

Rodney scoffed. "I know there are, who do you think convinced me that procreation was a black hole of despair and horror in the first place?"

John shook his head. "Rodney, you say the sweetest things."

Rodney's snorted. "I know you only want me for my fourteen kids."

"Okay, I admit it, you're right." There was a shriek from down the hall and John winced.

"This is all your fault," Rodney hissed, "I had the best students in the school before you came along with your flyboy floppy hair." He turned sharply on his heel and chased his class down the hall, calling random threats about nap time and no cookies or juice.

John laughed to himself before turning to go back inside the classroom.

He'd come to Pegasus because he'd thought he had something he could teach the kids, but apparently he was the one being taught.

-end-

Beta by

lyra_sena remaining fuck-ups by me.

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From:

anatsuno.livejournal.com

Cease and desist with the shenanigans and emoting at once! should be an icon. I would make it, but then, I'm not actually the type to say that ever (*emoting hor*) so it would be dishonest.

<3<3

From:

Educated Black Person, Esq., A.A., B.A., MBA, Ph.D., RN, NAACP, AAA

SGA -- The Pegasus School for the Gifted and Talented (Sheppard/McKay)

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