Author: LinziDay
Disclaimer: I don't own them. You know that, I know that, and I'm certain MGM/Paramount knows that….
Characters: McKay, Sheppard, Teyla, Ronan.
Genre/Rating: Gen/K

Description: The team faces their most horrifying mission yet: paperwork. How will they ever escape?

Bit of fluff. Season 4. My first SGA fic.

Rodney McKay briefly considered stunning himself.

Sure it would hurt. That cold, seeping numbness. Then the pins and needles that felt like fire eating you from the inside out. Not to mention the headache. God he hated that shrill, screaming, lasts-all-day-no-matter-what-you-do headache.

But still. . . if it got him out of this paperwork. . . .

"Don't even think about it, McKay," Sheppard warned, snapping McKay out of his reverie.

Sheppard was eyeing him from across the conference room table, piles of folders, forms and papers in chaos between them.

"You're not getting out of this," Sheppard said.

"What?" McKay shifted the pile of reports in his lap and pitched perfect tone of innocence and indignation. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Please. You were hatching an escape plan. Let me guess, blow up the conference room? Stun yourself unconscious? Steal a jumper and hightail it to the mainland to live off powerbars until we —" he nodded to Ronon and Teyla, "— finished all this?"

McKay felt his face turn warm. "I would never. . . uh, that is to say. . . I wouldn't exactly . . .."

Ronon chuckled, then growled and tossed a folder onto the pile. Beside him, Teyla shook her head and smiled into her own folder.

"We went on these missions as a team, we complete these reports as a team," Sheppard said, then sighed. "Besides, Carter posted a guard on the jumper bay and locked up all the stunners. I already checked."

McKay plucked a folder from the table and started conversationally, "You know, a small fire could —"

"Colonel," Teyla said. "I understand the need for accurate reporting, but I must agree the writing is tedious."

Ronon muttered in accord and tossed another finished folder onto the pile.

"Command doesn't want our reports filed electronically anymore," Sheppard said. "At least not until they figure out how a 12-year-old kid from Maine hacked SGC's system last month."

"I knew I hated kids for a reason." McKay put down his pen and flexed his hand. "I think I'm getting carpal tunnel."

"Haven't we done some of these before?" Ronon asked, holding up a folder. "P29X-3? That was a year ago."

"The kid got into the system at 3 a.m. The overnight duty commander panicked and started erasing files."

"So we have to suffer?" Ronon asked.

McKay suddenly groaned. "Oh god."

His team members barely glanced over.

"You're not having a heart attack, McKay," Sheppard said, scribbling his name on a report. "You aren't hyperventilating or hallucinating or bleeding. And your blood sugar is fine."

"No, worse that all that," McKay said. "My brain has ceased to function."

"Could've fooled me," Ronon said.

McKay pressed his palm against his forehead and groaned again. "I've forgotten how to write, how to spell, how to string words together in a coherent narrative —"

Sheppard stopped writing. "Okay, what're you having trouble spelling?"

"'Decision.'"

A grin slowly spread across Sheppard's face.

"Why McKay, that's easy," Sheppard said. "D-e-c-i-s-h-u-n."

Ronon leaned forward, his own grin matching Sheppard's. "Or d-e-c-i-z-u-n."

"Oh stop it," McKay said.

"Actually, I believe there are two N's," Teyla said.

"Maybe two E's, too?" Sheppard asked, brow furrowed in mock concentration. "D-e-e-s—"

"You guys aren't helping."

"Are we sure it starts with 'D'?" Ronon asked.

"Oh yes. I am sure of that." Teyla paused. "Or is it a silent P?"

"Like pneumonia." Sheppard nodded enthusiastically. "P-d-e-c—"

"You all… just forget it," McKay said, waving his hand. "I'll just say choice. 'We made the choice to —'"

"No, no, no, Rodney," Sheppard interrupted, his face suddenly serious. "Decision is the better world. Accuracy and all that."

McKay looked at him. Sheppard cocked his head and raised an eyebrow.

"You know," McKay said slowly, getting the idea, "what we really need is a dictionary."

"What is a 'dictionary'?" Teyla asked.

"It's a big book with words and definitions," Sheppard said. "On Earth, people use dictionaries to look up words they don't know how to spell."

"But if they cannot spell these words, how do they look them up in this book?"

"That's why spell check is better," McKay said. "But we don't have our computers."

"Which is why we need a dictionary," Sheppard said and stood up. "I don't think we can finish this until we find one."

McKay plunked his folders on the table. "Oh, agreed, agreed, agreed. Definitely."

Ronon was already heading to the door. "I'll go look in the workout room."

"I call mess hall," Sheppard said.

McKay stood up. "But I was —"

"It's a big mess hall, Rodney. Want to help?"

McKay brightened. "Uh, well, yeah, sure. Teyla?"

"Since I do not know what this dictionary looks like, it would be best if I accompanied you on the search."

Ronon lingered at the door, waiting for his team. "I could eat."

"Then it's a decision," Sheppard said.

"You know," McKay said as the door slid shut behind them, "I still say a small fire…."