Title: A Season of Unfortunate Events: The Miserable McKay

Author: Bladelover

Genre: Humor

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, just use 'em.

Author's note: Many thanks to Madigirl and historygirl for their endless patience as betas. They have a high tolerance for being pestered; I have a high capacity for pestering. It's a symbiotic kind of thing. Also, this was in the works well before Common Ground. Take that for what it's worth, or even imagine that this happened first.

Rodney strode toward Elizabeth's office, a man on a mission. He had something of substance to address with her, and he would not be distracted or diverted. He'd even taken the precaution of having a snack just before, to avoid being sidetracked by food.

The door was open, but he rapped sharply upon the wall anyway, just to satisfy any cumbersome obligations to protocol. Elizabeth, seated at her desk, looked up from her work to see him standing there, and waved him in.

"What can I do for you, Rodney?" she said, clasping her hands on the desk and smiling in what he'd come to think of as her I'm a seasoned diplomat skilled in dealing with difficult people expression. He seemed to see that one a lot.

The scientist folded his arms and tried to look like a force to be reckoned with. "I want to talk to you about my role."

Elizabeth smoothly put on the Look how patient but stern I can be expression. "Rodney, I've told you before – people stealing food from your tray is not my—"

"No, no, no," he interrupted, "not R-O-L-L. My role, the part I play around here."

Leaning back in her chair, Elizabeth now wore what he thought of as the I'm so amused at the silliness of our resident genius look. He thought she enjoyed that one, possibly a bit too much. "You mean being our chief scientist isn't a big enough job for you?"

He snorted, knowing it wasn't the most diplomatic noise to make, but then he wasn't the one with the vast repertoire of diplomatic expressions. "If only that were all that's expected of me. Frankly, I'm finding myself being used for other, less dignified functions, and it's getting in the way of my established role."

She widened her eyes in the I'm very alarmed and responsible for this whole darned city look. It was not really appropriate for the topic at hand, and he wondered if she was using this conversation as a chance to practice. "I'm not sure I understand you, Rodney. What 'less dignified' functions?"

"I'm supposed to believe you haven't noticed that I've somehow become the default comic relief around here?"

Elizabeth may have been feigning unawareness, but he didn't really think so. She didn't appear to have a suitable expression at the ready, and that seemed to piss her off. "I have no idea what you mean, but shouldn't you be getting ready for your mission?"

Rodney stared at her, taken aback. "Oh," he chirped. "Right."

He scurried out of the office. He needed his vest, his instruments, his… Halfway to his quarters, he stopped to wonder at the fact that he'd been diverted from the conversation, after all, but continued with the mission prep.

As he changed into his off-world mission gear, he idly wondered if Elizabeth practiced all those expressions in the mirror.

"You're late, McKay," Sheppard snarled unkindly as Rodney rushed into the gate room. Teyla stood behind him and raised an eyebrow.

Rodney frowned at his watch. "I'm exactly a minute and thirty-five seconds late! Why make a big deal about that? Besides, Ronon isn't here yet."

"Sure, try to shift the blame to someone else. And someone you someone you consider and outsider, naturally. That's so like you, McKay!" Sheppard's expression was spitting poison-tipped daggers at the scientist.

"Someone I consider an outsi… What is with you?" Rodney said, gazing at Sheppard as though he'd just watched him spontaneously shave his head. "In fact, what's with everybody lately? It's like you all suddenly have a different attitude toward me."

"Oh, sure! It's always about you, Rodney. Hey, Ronon!" Sheppard's face broke into a wide, affectionate grin as the fourth team member strutted into the gate room.

As he approached, Ronon began to juggle all twenty-seven weapons he routinely carried, occasionally catching one of the many knives in his teeth and spitting it back into the complex tossing pattern. By the time he reached the ramp, all the weapons were secured back in their respective places – hidden in a boot, buried in a dreadlock, strapped to a concealed body part – and Ronon was grinning like a teenage show-off. Sheppard gave an indulgent smirk and reminded him to be careful not to hurt anyone, "unless it's McKay." Teyla smiled at Ronon and raised her other eyebrow, the one that indicated approval rather than critical disdain.

"Okay, so, no one else wonders just where the hell that little display came from, hmm?" Rodney said, folding his arms petulantly. "I mean, come on – he's here for a year without showing the slightest interest in anything resembling fun or a personality, and now suddenly he's the lost Ringling Brother?"

Sheppard's expression hardened like quick-set cement. "Just do your job, McKay," he growled. "Okay, let's move out." As he walked toward the gate, he motioned to Teyla to follow him, and she did, after fixing Rodney with another Eyebrow of Disdain.

Shaking his head in wonder, Rodney moved alongside Ronon as they headed toward the wormhole. "Does anything seem, I don't know, horribly wrong to you?"

"No, but look," Ronon said. "I remembered how to smile, without dropping my chin and looking feral. Watch." He smiled like a human being with something to smile about.

Rodney nodded, impressed. "That's good. Very convincing. You don't think Sheppard was serious when he said you could hurt me?"

"Even if he was, I won't do it. Not unless he gives me a direct order."

"Ah, well, good then."