This fic was written for the Not Dead Yet challenge over at SGA flashfic.
Just a little bit of random crack!fic involving Rodney and the plant named after him.
Disclaimer: Sorry, don't own it. This was written for fun, and no profit was/ or will ever be gained from it.
Green Thumb
He found it by his door, looking rather innocuous and innocent in a dark blue pot with a sealed envelope resting against it. Rodneyana villosa Katie had called it, naming it after the scientist who now stood staring down at it with slight consternation.
What followed was a humorous attempt at balance as M. Rodney McKay, Ph.D tried to carry the cactus like plant, the letter, a few trinkets from his lab and his computer into his quarters. He was mostly successful.
Soon the plant was resting a safe distance away from him as he bounced around the room, looking for the disk he'd come back to retrieve and nursing his newly punctured fingers. The letter sat ignored for a few minutes before he noticed it again and opened it. He was met with Katie Brown's handwriting.
The letter explained that she'd found the second Rodneyana villosa on the mainland and thought of him. "Huh, that's nice," Rodney muttered to himself with a faint smile.
--I thought that you might like to keep this one with you, and think of me.
The Rodneyana villosa is unlike Earthen cacti however, so there's a few things you need to know about it's care. First of all--
A sudden beeping caught Rodney's attention, and instantly all thoughts of cacti and botanical care were swept away as he grabbed for his computer. The diagnostic it had been running was complete, and his eyes took in the streaming data. Perfect. After that whole Kierson Fever fiasco, he'd developed a complete overhaul to the quarantine protocols, something that would protect Atlantis from any other dangerous, mutilating, and otherwise harmful contagions that the Pegasus Galaxy decide to throw their way. Now if he could just find that lazy Czech and get him to--
Rodney was halfway to the door before he remembered the plant sitting on his dresser. He considered, then opened the single window long enough to stick the potted plant on the ledge where it could get some sun.
There it remained for two weeks.
Hurricane McKay flew through his room, overturning a chair in his breathless rush to the window.
He'd completely forgotten. Completely, totally, moronically forgotten about the cactus. That is, until today when Katie had stopped by his lab, wondering if she could stop by his quarters later and check on "little Rodney".
"I've been hanging out with Sheppard for too long," He muttered in unveiled disgust as his cheeks burned from the memory. There had been a moment of awkward confusion before he'd realized that his interpretation of "little Rodney" was not quite what Katie had been talking about. His indignant exclamation that it wasn't the size that counts probably didn't help matters either.
He snatched open the window and grabbed for the cactus before his mind caught up with what his eyes showed him. There wasn't much that left Rodney McKay speechless, but the now purple cactus was one of those things. And it STUNK. Like nothing he'd ever smelled before in his life. He jerked his hands back and clamped them over his nose, breathing through his mouth in a desperate attempt to ward off the fumes of whatever the hell his cactus had devolved into.
"Maybe it just needs some water. Yeah, that's it," Rodney said in slight desperation. It took ten minutes to work up the courage to bring the plant inside, precious minutes that were wasted as he forgot that he'd rushed here ahead of Katie. As such, he'd not made it halfway to his bathroom, arms holding the pot stretched out in front of him, before there was a cautious knock on the door.
"Rodney? It's me." Came the sweet, tentative voice.
Rodney freaked.
The cactus, pot and all, were thrown haphazardly into the closet, the door shut securely behind it. By the time the room door slid open, revealing Katie, Rodney had plastered something that he thought looked like a confident smile onto his face. "I'm starving," Rodney proclaimed immediately.
"Oh, oh really?" Katie said slowly.
"Yes, why don't we go grab something to eat?" Rodney had a hand on her arm already, guiding her away from the room. The door slid silently shut behind him.
He'd been grounded. Rodney slapped the door panel instead of waving his hand in front of it, taking out a little of his sullen anger on it. Wasn't that the term? It was for pilots, so he was stealing it for himself. Not allowed to go on the mission, left out, left behind.
There had been little confusion with Ronon's amused, raised eyebrows; or with Teyla's polite 'I believe he might...compromise our stealth'. But it was Lieutenant Colonel Subtle As A Hive Ship's exasperated 'My God McKay, are you bathing with roadkill?' that sent McKay back to his quarters under the express orders to 'take a damn shower and actually use soap this time'.
He'd forgotten about the cactus again, and it had remained in his closet all night. Those doors were surprisingly stench proof, and he'd not remembered until an early morning whiff had almost knocked him on his ass. But there'd been no time, he was due to go on a mission, so he'd grabbed some clothes and decided to chance it.
Apparently the smell lingered.
As he tied a bandanna around his mouth and nose and sulked over to the closet, a forgotten sheet of Atlantis stationary caught his eye. He picked it up and unfolded it, reading it carefully this time. It was the note Katie had left with the Rodneyana villosa.
The Rodneyana villosa is unlike Earthen cacti however, so there's a few things you need to know about it's care. First of all, too much sunlight is actually poisonous to this variation. I doubt you remember, but I told you how I found the first hiding in some shrubbery. It appears that these plants thrive through a form of chlorophyll unlike any on earth. The photosynthesis seen in this plant is unlike any photoautotroph I've ever seen. It's really exciting!
Despite his mood, Rodney felt a smile tugging at his mouth. Katie was passionate about her plants. All the botanists were. Rodney had always been of the opinion that botany was even lower than medicine. All voodoo and rain dances. He'd never said anything like that to Katie though. It would shatter her, and after she'd named a plant after him!
A purple plant... which was currently stinking up his closet.
Anyways, I won't bore you with the details. Just keep it watered and only limit it to about an hour of sunlight a day and it should thrive...
"Perfect," Rodney sighed, flicking the note onto his bed. He secured the bandanna a little better over his mouth and nose and opened the closet. It wasn't hard to find the pot, nestled between two shoes. But Rodney was surprised to find that his plant was now oozing a purple substance all over his Nikes. "Aw, come on!" He said to the plant in exasperation as he brought it out of the closet and set it on the low cabinet that served as a dresser/end table.
"Are you dead yet?" He asked dubiously, poking it slightly with a pen. The darkness seemed to have helped the cactus a little bit. It's color had a slight green tint again, and that had to be good. And maybe the smell was a little better than it had been... or he was just getting used to it. But why was it...leaking? Did plants do that? He guessed it was normal, as normal as anything was in the Pegasus Galaxy that is.
Rodney allowed himself a small smile. The plant seemed to be on the road to recovery, which meant he didn't have to explain it's untimely demise to Katie, but what about the smell? He looked around his room with a lost expression before snapping his fingers. Opening the top drawer, he pushed items around until he uncovered two red tapered candles. Gifts from Teyla, they were supposed to help with relaxation or something like that. He'd never used them, and so didn't know if that was true, but he'd kept them around in case of a power outage or something. They had a faint flowery scent to them, so maybe they would help to mask the odor of Rodneyana villosa.
He scrounged around until he found some matches, and confidently struck one.
Rodney would never know if maybe a small spark from the matches hit the oozing goo, or if it had in fact been the fumes itself; but the moment the match was lit, the cactus in front of him burst into flames.
He liked to think that it was a manly yell that escaped him then as he scrambled back from the small inferno on his dresser, but it was closer a girly squeal, high pitched with a frantic note of 'Holy Shit!' tinting it. Desperation moved him and the next thing he knew a pillow was in his hand and he was beating the crap out the cactus, praying with all he was worth that the opened drawer containing his underwear didn't ignite next.
When the dust settled and the flames died out, M. Rodney McKay stood, chest heaving and burned pillow in his hand, surveying the charred wreckage of what used to be the Rodneyana villosa. Somewhere in the back of his mind a wry thought which sounded suspiciously like John Sheppard said 'Well, if it wasn't dead before, it sure as hell is now!'.
Rodney had to admit that it was an accurate description.
Two days later the door to one of Atlantis' many balconies slid open, admitting two figures into the bright sunlight. This balcony had been designated as a driving range, claimed for down times and days off. This was a favored spot for one of the two people who stepped out onto the astroturfed square. For the other person, who moved with much less enthusiasm, it was one of his least favorite.
"Alright Ronon," John Sheppard said brightly as he set down his clubs, "Let's see if we can't work on that grip a little."
Ronon stepped forward like a man walking to the gallows, before stopping and sniffing the air. "Do you smell that?" He watched his commanding officer sniff the air a couple of times. The change in facial expression was immediate and comical as he got a whiff.
"Yeah..." Sheppard said with a frown. "It smells like..."
"McKay." Ronon supplied shortly. He spied a black trash bad tucked by the outer edge of the balcony and walked over to pick it open. He opened it a crack then closed it just as fast, holding it out to Sheppard.
Sheppard backed away, hands raised to ward off the unwanted item, "I don't want it. Get rid of it."
Ronon considered a moment. He looked out over the ocean, then at the now ignored golf clubs. One dark eyebrow raised. Sheppard followed his gaze, and grinned. He picked up a battered 5 iron which had long been designated as Ronon's due to the abuse the Satedan seemed to inflict on the clubs. "Knock yourself out big guy."
The trash bag was tied securely, set carefully in position, and propelled far out over the ocean with the aid of powerful arms. It landed with a satisfying splash far from Atlantis and slowly sank into the depths.
End
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