Characters/Pairing: John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, none
Disclaimers: Psh. Maybe if you've stepped through the Quantum Mirror recently . . .
Notes: Yeeeah . . . No clue where this came from. Enjoy! :D
Summary: Lemons will kill him. These muffins will just make him wish he were dead.
All conversation stopped as the entire infirmary turned to look at the source of the unorthodox laughter.
Rodney McKay was oblivious to the attention as he leaned back and lifted his feet up. His bare feet.
His blue, bare feet.
He wiggled his toes a few times, then looked up and noticed his audience.
"Toes!" he announced happily and pointed at the still wiggling appendages.
"Um . . ." John said, but stopped when he realized he had no clue what he intended to come after that.
"Rodney?" Elizabeth tried, but the physicist had gone back to grinning at his toes, his head bobbing from side to side as he softly hummed some indistinguishable tune and flexed his toes in time to the rhythm.
Everyone looked to Carson.
"It won't hurt him," the Scot assured them. "The . . . effects are temporary and the drug is non-addictive as far as I can tell. His body's already begun to metabolize it. By morning he should be back to normal."
"Color or mental capacity?" Ford asked, his expression indicative of morbid fascination. He obviously didn't want to see this but couldn't look away either.
"Both," Carson answered.
"And until then?" Teyla asked, her head tilting as she watched Rodney sit up and bring his legs into a lotus position. Well, as close as the fitness-challenged physicist could.
Flexibility was not his forte.
Carson shrugged. "Until then we wait."
Rodney grabbed his foot and managed to bring it to within inches of his nose, still staring at his slowly waving toes.
"They look like blueberries," he said absently. "I wonder how they taste . . ." More than one person paled and jumped forward to stop him.
John was closest and he grabbed Rodney's shoulder which succeeded in distracting the loopy Canadian.
There was a moment of blank staring, then a wide grin split Rodney's face.
"Hi, Rodney," John said as he gently maneuvered the physicist upright once more.
"I'm blue!" Rodney sounded particularly proud of that.
"Yes, Rodney, you are," John agreed in a placating tone.
Rodney frowned. "You're not blue." He sounded so disapproving that John almost smiled.
"Nope," he said instead and pushed until Rodney laid back against the pillows again.
"Why aren't you blue too?" he asked petulantly. He poked the black t-shirt clad shoulder that was right next to him. "S'not fair. Being blue is fun. You should be blue too."
"I didn't eat the drug-laced muffins, McKay," John explained. "You did."
"Oh." Rodney's brow furrowed as he tried to process this.
He started humming again, then transitioned to murmuring the lyrics, watching his hands in fascination as they tapped out the rhythm on his thigh.
John thought it was vaguely familiar but didn't recognize it.
Rodney froze suddenly and John wondered what was wrong.
Then another huge grin split the scientist's face as he looked up.
"I'm blue!" he announced again. Then he began singing aloud and John realized he recognized the song now.
"I'm blue! Da ba dee da ba daa da ba dee da ba daa da ba dee da ba daa da ba dee da ba daa da ba dee da ba daa da ba dee da ba daa . . ."
Either he didn't know any other words or he just didn't care because he never moved past that same line. But each repetition was louder than the one before and even more off-key—if that was even possible.
Now people were backing away, the less than accurate tones grating on nerves with a swift vengeance.
Someone whimpered and hands came up to cover ears. A lame excuse or six were stammered and then fleeing footsteps punctuated the continuing lyrics until it was only the Colonel and the physicist left.
"Da ba dee da ba daa da ba dee da ba daa da ba dee . . ."
John desperately wished he could follow but he knew McKay would be pissed and hurt later if he found out he'd been abandoned because he was annoying and (for once) couldn't help it. Besides, staying with injured or ill teammates was an unspoken code of honor they lived by here in the Pegasus galaxy. Rodney had stuck around for the weird—and absolutely disgusting—leprosy-type virus that had nearly claimed John last month and John knew it was his turn to sacrifice.
But even he could only be expected to give up so much. He drew the line at his sanity.
"Rodney! Stop! Please!"
Amazingly enough it worked.
Rodney ceased mid-word and then looked at John expectantly like 'Well? Now what?'
With a grateful sigh John lowered his hands and stepped forward. "Time would pass faster if you slept this off. Unfortunately Carson's afraid of giving you anything else for fear of a reaction. So we'll just have to keep you entertained until you conk out or it wears off. Deal?" He grinned and it was returned.
"Deal! Gimmie five!" Rodney said and held out his hand.
John arched an eyebrow but obligingly slapped the waiting palm.
"On the side!"
Rodney stayed frozen in place until John played along and slapped his hand again.
"Up above!" Another slap and the hand moved again.
"Down below!" With a resigned sigh John slapped the hand a fourth time. Or tried to. It was ripped away at the last second and then Rodney triumphantly crowed, "You're too slow, Joe!"
He dissolved into giggles, curling up with his excessive mirth, hands wrapped around his middle.
That was a creepy enough sound—worse than the singing almost—that John spoke just to stop it.
"Okay, you got me. Ha ha. Now how about we . . . um . . ." He looked around for a distraction when the giggling suddenly stopped.
John looked back in surprise and saw Rodney staring at his feet again, his legs stretched out once more.
He wiggled his toes experimentally, then grinned and pointed.
"Toes!" he declared with that same mirth from last time.
"Yes, Rodney," John said wearily and sank into the nearby chair. "You still have toes."
Thoughtfully, McKay examined his little piggies, tilting his head this way and that. "They look like blueberries. I wonder-" he started and began to lean forward.
"No!" John shouted and jumped up.
McKay looked briefly startled, then looked back at his toes as if they could explain the Colonel’s odd behavior.
"Hey!" he exclaimed. "I'm blue!" He grinned and before John could stop him the singing began again.
"I'm blue! Da ba dee da ba daa da ba dee da ba daaaa . . ."
John accepted defeat and dropped into the chair his head following suit into his hands.
The things he did for friends, he thought ruefully. He sighed. It was going to be a long night.
But at least it wasn't the giggling, he consoled himself. Hearing that again would be the breaking point.
He resigned himself to fate and leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers together over his stomach and watching his best friend create what would undoubtedly be great blackmail material when this was over.
That happy thought in mind he smiled and decided he would survive this if only to rub it in McKay's face later.
Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.
Review, please and thanks.