Disclaimer: I'd be out of a job ASAP if I wrote this kind of crap for SGA.
AN: I felt the need to write this. I'll probably regret it tomorrow, but until then you can all suffer by reading it. Basically, I just really wanted to use the first line and so this fic was born.
It had not started out with O'Neill's "I'm sorry". That had just been one dig in a long list of jokes that only other people found funny. Rodney McKay was not a card carrying member of the 'I am CANADIAN' crowd, but it was still his country damn it, and he'd defend it.
It was actually something Cadman said that finally did it.
"Hey, Rodney, why is it hockey has such long sticks? You guys trying to make up for something?"
And because Rodney was a genius who knew everything he already had a reply ready. "Hey, Cadman, did you know hockey is the fastest growing female sport in North America? What are you trying to make up for?" It wasn't the greatest comeback, but Rodney had had worse.
"That so? Well, you know us; we'll play with anything long and hard. After all, sports sticks are the only thing that are!"
Several marines in the room took suitable offense to that. Several women snickered in agreement. Cadman smiled that sickly sweet smile she was so good at and turned away, clearly thinking she had won.
"And for the last time; hockey is only one of our national sports! It was lacrosse first," he shot back.
"Pussy sport," she turned with another smile.
Rodney had never played lacrosse (or hockey), but since he was well aware that it was most certainly not a pussy sport.
"Better than field hockey, yeah? Too chicken to play on the ice with the big girls, were you?" Sometimes being able to hack personnel files came in mighty handy.
"Oh, I like playing with the big girls and boys just fine, Rodney. How about you? Ever played a sport in your life?"
"And waste a perfectly brilliant brain on mindless forms of entertainment? Not likely. People play sports because they're too stupid to do anything else."
This was apparently the wrong thing to say to this particular crowd.
"Watch it, McKay; just cause you're from a godforsaken land of igloos and spell your words wrong doesn't mean you get to insult those of us who go around saving your ass," Peterson countered.
Peterson was 6'5" and all muscle and Rodney was just stupid enough to take the bait.
"We don't live in igloos. And you're the idiots that spell 'colour' wrong! And you don't go around saving anyone's ass Peterson; that's my job! Or am I the only one that remembers you guys locking yourselves out on the west pier last week? I could have left you out there all night."
"Hardly saving our asses, McKay. Unlike rescuing you from prison last month. How were they going to execute you? Oh yeah, hanging, wasn't it? Might wanna be careful there. Might not break you out the next time you go touching things you aren't supposed to."
"Oh yea, Lieutenant, because that'll go over so very well with your commanding officer. I'm sure you'll get a promotion for letting the saviour of Atlantis get his head chopped off by some stupid superstitious natives."
Peterson smiled easily. "Might be quieter around here if we did. Not sure the Colonel would mind much either. Spends most of his time hauling you out of your own messes. Not such a brilliant genius as you think you are." The other marines laughed.
Sheppard cleared his throat. "I think there's a plumbing problem in B-2, Peterson. Might want to see to that."
Peterson looked suitably chagrined as he departed, but McKay didn't miss the glare one of his marines sent his way.
"Honestly, Colonel, can't you control those marines of yours? They have no right to insult me!" Rodney whined.
John raised an eyebrow at his teammate. "And they wouldn't if you would stop provoking them. Honestly, Rodney, stop encouraging them; they're hard enough to control as it is."
"Cadman started it," Rodney felt the need to say.
"She always does. And you know she does it to get a rise out of you, so why help? Just try to stay out of trouble, Rodney. I'm not your babysitter, but I seem to spend a lot of time breaking up arguments that involve you. Just give it a break, yeah?"
"Fine," Rodney sighed. "As soon as they all stop insulting my country."
"Is that what this is about? God, Rodney, you hate Canada! Why does it annoy you so much?" John looked equal parts annoyed, amused and apathetic.
"It's still my country. There's no need for Canadian jokes. No one singles out any other country." Rodney knew he sounded like a whining five-year-old, but didn't really care.
"Not true. Just, stop rising to the bait and they'll stop trying to annoy you." He turned to go. "And if I catch you bitching with my marines over this again, they won't be the ones fixing the third floor john." He was almost out the door. "Oh, Zelenka was looking for you."
Rodney glared. "And he's forgotten how to work his radio?" John shrugged. "What did he want, the incompetent Czech?"
"Something about energy consumption for the ZPM."
"It's ZED!" Rodney screamed as Sheppard disappeared out the door. The other dozen people still in the mess glared at him.
Some days he really wondered whether Canada was actually worth defending.