skidmo_fic (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
skidmo_fic) wrote2006-11-14 08:44 pm
skidmo_fic) wrote2006-11-14 08:44 pm
Blamestorming (G)
Title: Blamestorming
Rating: G
Pairing: undisclosed (het)
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me...sadly
Feedback: yes, please.
Summary: BLAMESTORMING - Sitting around the squadron discussing why a suspense was
missed or a mission failed and who was responsible.
Author Notes: This little fic was inspired by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
pegasus_01's Air Force Dictionary.
BLAMESTORMING - Sitting around the squadron discussing why a suspense was
missed or a mission failed and who was responsible.
***
A familiar, decadent scent filled the room as several green and brown packages were reverently placed in the center of the triangle formed by three seated men.
“Five pounds of Seattle’s Best on McKay.”
A purple box joined the coffee on the floor.
“I’ll lay a dozen Cadbury milk bars on Sheppard.”
“You in, Dr. Z?”
The bottle made a satisfying clunk as it took its place in the middle.
“Just to make things interesting, I will wager a fifth of Glenfidditch on Ronon.”
Beckett groaned. “You’re willing to throw away good scotch on a sure loser?”
“What makes you so certain it was not Ronon?”
Lorne snorted at this. “Please, Dr. Z. It’s more likely to have been Sheppard than Ronon.”
Zelenka just grinned impishly at the major. “Then you should have no qualms about accepting my wager.”
“I’ve always got qualms about taking advantage of the mentally challenged.”
“If you do not watch yourself, Major, you may find your showers getting progressively colder in the next few weeks. If my whisky is not good enough for you, of course, I will rescind my wager.”
“No!” Beckett blurted, and then spluttered out, “I mean...if the good doctor is willing to part with such a precious commodity, Major, who are we to gainsay him?”
An amused smile played at the corners of Lorne’s mouth. “Y’know, Doc, when you’re right, you’re right, and you? You’re always right.” Except when you lay good chocolate on Sheppard having blown this mission, he added to himself.
Major Lorne knew that the odds were pretty even between McKay and Sheppard on most missions, but he had an inside source that promised him McKay had been the screw up this time. Cadman had been nearly doubled over with laughter when she told him about the look on Teyla’s face as she chewed the physicist out for ruining yet another possible trade relationship.
There was a whooshing sound, as the door to the storage closet in which they held their “blamestorming” meetings opened, and a timid voice said, “Is it too late to place my bet?”
Chuck Campbell, the gate technician stood in the doorway, a hopeful look on his face.
“That depends, Campbell. Let’s see the goods first.” Lorne gave the young technician an appraising look as he held out his offering.
Zelenka gave a low whistle. “Where did you get that?”
Chuck smiled an easy smirk at the amazed looks on the other men’s faces, knowing he’d passed the test with flying colors. “I’ve got connections on the Daedelus.”
“I had no idea Novak was such a useful ally.” Lorne said, clearly impressed.
“She’s never let me down, sir. So, can I still get in on the action?”
The three men looked at each other as though to determine what each was thinking, though they were all clearly ready to accept Chuck’s wager. Finally, Carson said, “Stick it in the pile and tell us who has inspired this confidence.”
Chuck laid his contribution to the pot in with the others and said, “One box set of The Simpsons seasons 1-8 on Teyla.”
There was silence in the closet for about twenty seconds before it exploded with the sound of three men laughing histerically.
Chuck just stood there, waiting for the others to regain their composure. After a few minutes, Zelenka gathered his wits, took a deep breath and, still holding his sides, said, “No, really, tell us who you are wagering on.”
“Teyla.”
“Look, Campbell,” Lorne said, “you’re new to our little betting pool, so we’ll cut you some slack this time. Teyla has never blown a mission. Not once. Never. Got it? The odds of her having screwed this one up are minuscule. Microscopic even.”
Beckett was looking hard at the technician. “What on earth would possess you to lay a wager of this magnitude on Teyla?”
Chuck’s face gave nothing away as he answered, “I’ve just got a feeling, y’know?”
“I hope your feeling is very strong, my friend,” Zelenka put in, shaking his head. “You are about to lose a most precious asset.”
***
Beckett made his way back to the infirmary with an unusually smug smile on his face. Normally, after leaving a blamestorming session, he was slightly nervous. Not a betting man by nature, he had been wary of joining in when Zelenka had first invited him. He usually kept his wagers small, and the few times he had won had always surprised him.
This time, however, he was feeling confident. He had never before been allowed to bet on Sheppard’s team, since he normally oversaw their post-mission exams and tended to hear what had happened before he had a chance to place his bet. This time, though, none of them had had very extensive injuries, so he’d let one of the other doctors help them out.
Could he help it if, on his way to the storage closet, one of his nurses had let slip that she’d heard it was Sheppard’s fault they’d been attacked?
***
Zelenka bounced on the balls of his feet all the way down to the labs. It had been a most difficult decision to bet his last fifth of whisky. A dangerous choice, he knew. Ronon, though prone to violence and not the most cautious of people, was rarely the reason a mission went south for Sheppard’s team. He had nearly recalled his bet when Lorne gave him the opportunity. The stakes were always higher for Atlantis’s flagship team than they were for the others. The only team that came close to it for number of missions went wrong was Lorne’s, but they refrained from blamestorming the major’s team for obvious reasons.
Zelenka knew that when it came to Sheppard’s team, McKay was usually a safe bet, and Sheppard was a close second (too many cheiftan’s daughters in this galaxy), but he, too, had a feeling about this one.
That his feeling came from Dr. Simpson, who claimed that she had seen Sheppard bawling Ronon out for his stupidity on their way to the debriefing, only brightened the smile on Zelenka’s face.
***
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m afraid not, son.”
“Teyla?”
“Is true, Major Lorne,” Zelenka added with a sigh. “I saw the mission report myself. Apparently the natives took offence at Teyla’s being treated as a warrior and allowed to carry weapons. She handed them over to the Colonel at first, to avoid just such a mishap, but when a villager made an *ahem* inappropriate advance on her, she defended herself, and, in the process, got the entire team chased back to the stargate at spearpoint.”
“I don’t bloody believe it.”
“Man, Campbell, you must have some beginner’s luck.”
“I guess so, sir.”
The other three looked completely stricken as Chuck gathered up his winnings and left without a word.
***
Chuck refrained from whistling to himself as he distributed the promised chocolate bars to Cadman, Simpson and Janene (a nurse who’d always been willing to do Chuck a favor or two).
It had been a bit of a risk, true, but the fact that the entire team, except Teyla, had been doubled over in laughter when they came through the gate was a pretty good indication that it had been her faux pas that caused the trouble this time.
He couldn’t keep the grin from his face as he carried his own contribution to the pot down the corridor towards the temporary housing assigned to Daedelus staff when they were in the city. He stopped at a door about two-thirds of the way down on the right hand side and activated the door chime. The door slid open with a whoosh and, as he stepped inside, a voice called out from the bathroom, “So help me, Chuck, if you lost my DVDs in some ridiculous bet...”
“I’ve brought them back, as promised, Dr. Novak. Thanks for the loan.”
Lindsey Novak stepped out of the bathroom, still toweling her hair off after her shower. “You’re welcome. Now where’s this chocolate you promised me?”
“Oh, man, I forgot. I left it in my quarters.” He ran his hand through his hair and rested it on the back of his neck in his best attempt to look contrite, with maybe a bit of sheepishness thrown in for good measure. “Hey, if you bring the DVDs, we could watch some of it tonight. I’ll give you an extra chocolate bar,” he added when it looked like she was going to say no.
“Make it two, and you’ve got a deal.”
As they made their way to his quarters, Chuck couldn’t help grinning just a bit. Chocolate and scotch tonight and, with any luck, coffee for two in the morning.
Rating: G
Pairing: undisclosed (het)
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me...sadly
Feedback: yes, please.
Summary: BLAMESTORMING - Sitting around the squadron discussing why a suspense was
missed or a mission failed and who was responsible.
Author Notes: This little fic was inspired by
pegasus_01's Air Force Dictionary.BLAMESTORMING - Sitting around the squadron discussing why a suspense was
missed or a mission failed and who was responsible.
***
A familiar, decadent scent filled the room as several green and brown packages were reverently placed in the center of the triangle formed by three seated men.
“Five pounds of Seattle’s Best on McKay.”
A purple box joined the coffee on the floor.
“I’ll lay a dozen Cadbury milk bars on Sheppard.”
“You in, Dr. Z?”
The bottle made a satisfying clunk as it took its place in the middle.
“Just to make things interesting, I will wager a fifth of Glenfidditch on Ronon.”
Beckett groaned. “You’re willing to throw away good scotch on a sure loser?”
“What makes you so certain it was not Ronon?”
Lorne snorted at this. “Please, Dr. Z. It’s more likely to have been Sheppard than Ronon.”
Zelenka just grinned impishly at the major. “Then you should have no qualms about accepting my wager.”
“I’ve always got qualms about taking advantage of the mentally challenged.”
“If you do not watch yourself, Major, you may find your showers getting progressively colder in the next few weeks. If my whisky is not good enough for you, of course, I will rescind my wager.”
“No!” Beckett blurted, and then spluttered out, “I mean...if the good doctor is willing to part with such a precious commodity, Major, who are we to gainsay him?”
An amused smile played at the corners of Lorne’s mouth. “Y’know, Doc, when you’re right, you’re right, and you? You’re always right.” Except when you lay good chocolate on Sheppard having blown this mission, he added to himself.
Major Lorne knew that the odds were pretty even between McKay and Sheppard on most missions, but he had an inside source that promised him McKay had been the screw up this time. Cadman had been nearly doubled over with laughter when she told him about the look on Teyla’s face as she chewed the physicist out for ruining yet another possible trade relationship.
There was a whooshing sound, as the door to the storage closet in which they held their “blamestorming” meetings opened, and a timid voice said, “Is it too late to place my bet?”
Chuck Campbell, the gate technician stood in the doorway, a hopeful look on his face.
“That depends, Campbell. Let’s see the goods first.” Lorne gave the young technician an appraising look as he held out his offering.
Zelenka gave a low whistle. “Where did you get that?”
Chuck smiled an easy smirk at the amazed looks on the other men’s faces, knowing he’d passed the test with flying colors. “I’ve got connections on the Daedelus.”
“I had no idea Novak was such a useful ally.” Lorne said, clearly impressed.
“She’s never let me down, sir. So, can I still get in on the action?”
The three men looked at each other as though to determine what each was thinking, though they were all clearly ready to accept Chuck’s wager. Finally, Carson said, “Stick it in the pile and tell us who has inspired this confidence.”
Chuck laid his contribution to the pot in with the others and said, “One box set of The Simpsons seasons 1-8 on Teyla.”
There was silence in the closet for about twenty seconds before it exploded with the sound of three men laughing histerically.
Chuck just stood there, waiting for the others to regain their composure. After a few minutes, Zelenka gathered his wits, took a deep breath and, still holding his sides, said, “No, really, tell us who you are wagering on.”
“Teyla.”
“Look, Campbell,” Lorne said, “you’re new to our little betting pool, so we’ll cut you some slack this time. Teyla has never blown a mission. Not once. Never. Got it? The odds of her having screwed this one up are minuscule. Microscopic even.”
Beckett was looking hard at the technician. “What on earth would possess you to lay a wager of this magnitude on Teyla?”
Chuck’s face gave nothing away as he answered, “I’ve just got a feeling, y’know?”
“I hope your feeling is very strong, my friend,” Zelenka put in, shaking his head. “You are about to lose a most precious asset.”
***
Beckett made his way back to the infirmary with an unusually smug smile on his face. Normally, after leaving a blamestorming session, he was slightly nervous. Not a betting man by nature, he had been wary of joining in when Zelenka had first invited him. He usually kept his wagers small, and the few times he had won had always surprised him.
This time, however, he was feeling confident. He had never before been allowed to bet on Sheppard’s team, since he normally oversaw their post-mission exams and tended to hear what had happened before he had a chance to place his bet. This time, though, none of them had had very extensive injuries, so he’d let one of the other doctors help them out.
Could he help it if, on his way to the storage closet, one of his nurses had let slip that she’d heard it was Sheppard’s fault they’d been attacked?
***
Zelenka bounced on the balls of his feet all the way down to the labs. It had been a most difficult decision to bet his last fifth of whisky. A dangerous choice, he knew. Ronon, though prone to violence and not the most cautious of people, was rarely the reason a mission went south for Sheppard’s team. He had nearly recalled his bet when Lorne gave him the opportunity. The stakes were always higher for Atlantis’s flagship team than they were for the others. The only team that came close to it for number of missions went wrong was Lorne’s, but they refrained from blamestorming the major’s team for obvious reasons.
Zelenka knew that when it came to Sheppard’s team, McKay was usually a safe bet, and Sheppard was a close second (too many cheiftan’s daughters in this galaxy), but he, too, had a feeling about this one.
That his feeling came from Dr. Simpson, who claimed that she had seen Sheppard bawling Ronon out for his stupidity on their way to the debriefing, only brightened the smile on Zelenka’s face.
***
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m afraid not, son.”
“Teyla?”
“Is true, Major Lorne,” Zelenka added with a sigh. “I saw the mission report myself. Apparently the natives took offence at Teyla’s being treated as a warrior and allowed to carry weapons. She handed them over to the Colonel at first, to avoid just such a mishap, but when a villager made an *ahem* inappropriate advance on her, she defended herself, and, in the process, got the entire team chased back to the stargate at spearpoint.”
“I don’t bloody believe it.”
“Man, Campbell, you must have some beginner’s luck.”
“I guess so, sir.”
The other three looked completely stricken as Chuck gathered up his winnings and left without a word.
***
Chuck refrained from whistling to himself as he distributed the promised chocolate bars to Cadman, Simpson and Janene (a nurse who’d always been willing to do Chuck a favor or two).
It had been a bit of a risk, true, but the fact that the entire team, except Teyla, had been doubled over in laughter when they came through the gate was a pretty good indication that it had been her faux pas that caused the trouble this time.
He couldn’t keep the grin from his face as he carried his own contribution to the pot down the corridor towards the temporary housing assigned to Daedelus staff when they were in the city. He stopped at a door about two-thirds of the way down on the right hand side and activated the door chime. The door slid open with a whoosh and, as he stepped inside, a voice called out from the bathroom, “So help me, Chuck, if you lost my DVDs in some ridiculous bet...”
“I’ve brought them back, as promised, Dr. Novak. Thanks for the loan.”
Lindsey Novak stepped out of the bathroom, still toweling her hair off after her shower. “You’re welcome. Now where’s this chocolate you promised me?”
“Oh, man, I forgot. I left it in my quarters.” He ran his hand through his hair and rested it on the back of his neck in his best attempt to look contrite, with maybe a bit of sheepishness thrown in for good measure. “Hey, if you bring the DVDs, we could watch some of it tonight. I’ll give you an extra chocolate bar,” he added when it looked like she was going to say no.
“Make it two, and you’ve got a deal.”
As they made their way to his quarters, Chuck couldn’t help grinning just a bit. Chocolate and scotch tonight and, with any luck, coffee for two in the morning.
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Loved it! Aah, the betting pool. Gotta love it. Yay for someone being inspired!
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I suppose that if something went wrong, but it was no one in particular's fault, they would either return the contributions to their respective owners or split all bets between them. Probably the same if they were all wrong (like if Chuck hadn't bet on Teyla).
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Yeah, it seems like (excluding the wraith-attracting necklace incidents) missions that go wrong are never Teyla's fault. It's nice to know she's still human :).
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Devious little Chuckie!!!
I loved it!
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