Date Completed: Jul. 18th, 2006
Forget graduate school, forget working with ten-thousand year old alien technology, and forget the Wraith; taking care of a child was most certainly the most difficult thing Rodney McKay had ever dealt with in his life. And this was only a part-time gig, or so he hoped.
The biggest problem was that Corey shared a lot of characteristics with Rodney when he was four years old. Except that Corey's were on a louder, more exuberant level. He blamed the colonel for that one. Or, rather, whatever rank the Sheppard from the other universe happened to possess. He wasn't certain, but from Corey's tales, it seemed as though his Atlantis was still cut off from Earth entirely, and unless something different had occurred in the past to give him a promotion to Lieutenant Colonel, then his Sheppard was still a Major.
Either way, it was still his fault.
Corey was loud and opinionated and, unfortunately, very susceptible to sugar-highs. He was regretting using the chocolate as a peace-offering, now. Currently, Corey was racing up and down the halls, arms outstretched as he made little 'zoom, zoom' noises. Clearly, something that Other-Sheppard taught him, as there weren't any airplanes on Atlantis. Even if he was making what appeared to be Puddle Jumper noises.
However, despite the fact that Corey was alternatively pissing people off and stopping passersby so they could gawk and coo about how 'cute' and 'adorable' the boy was, Rodney had to admit that this was certainly an improvement. No more than five minutes ago, Corey had still been refusing to walk on his own, forcing Rodney to carry him around, perched on his hip. After the umpteenth break when Rodney had to put the kid down, Corey finally decided that he'd had enough.
"You're too slow!" he complained, breaking away and starting to run down the hallway, arms outstretched as he mimicked a flying airplane, baby blanket now tied around his neck, to take place of a cape, he assumed. Rodney had to tell himself that he was against corporal punishment several times, to keep from doing anything… regrettable. And by regrettable, he clearly meant something which Carson or Elizabeth would undoubtedly berate him for.
Keeping an eye on the boy as he ran circles up and down the hall, both gradually made their way down towards the control room, as Elizabeth was very busy, but had expressed a wish to see Corey again. Rodney had nothing better to do, as he was being forced to play father to the rugrat, and Corey was content to just run around with Rodney in tow.
"Daddy, I'm hungry." Or not. The boy was standing directly in his path, and Rodney was wondering how he hadn't even noticed the movement; he nearly tripped over the child. He had one fist wrapped around the hem of Rodney's jacket, and the other with some of pants bunched up tight in his grasp.
Rodney contemplated saying something sarcastic or just plain not nice, but he knew through experience that it would most certainly be a bad idea. Instead, he settled with a weary, "Of course you are," and snatched the boys hand as he turned back in the opposite direction so they could get to the cafeteria.
"So what sort of foods do you like to eat?" he asked tentatively, wondering if he had a ridiculously picky eater on his hands, like he had been as a child. This entire situation was giving him some serious insight on how much his own parents must have suffered, raising him.
"I dunno," Corey mumbled, suddenly sobering and drawing in very close to Rodney, before just dropping and sitting on Rodney's foot. His spindly legs and arms latched onto Rodney's leg and he held on very tightly. Unsure as to where this was coming from, Rodney made a face before looking down and staring at the little boy, who was now looking very vulnerable and scared.
"What's wrong?" he asked, trying not to sound even half as frustrated as he felt. But Corey just scrunched up his face and looked like he was going to start crying soon.
"I want my papa," he whimpered, cheek pressed against Rodney's leg as he stared up, pale eyes sparkling pathetically as the tears began to form. Also forming, though this was in the halls, was a crowd.
"What? Sheppard?" Rodney asked dumbly for a moment, before Corey started crying and he immediately realized that the boy must have meant his Rodney, back wherever he was actually from. With a soft sigh, and Rodney feeling like a jerk, he leaned over and pried the boy from his spider grip on his leg, and lifted him up into his arms.
Rodney could only assume this was brought on by his question about Corey's taste in foods. It was probably easy enough for the little kid to pretend Rodney was his father once he stopped treating him like a piranha, but that was something his dad would know; something only a complete stranger would have to ask.
As soon as Corey was up in his arms, he burrowed into Rodney's chest, clutching tightly and crying, getting his shirt wet. Unsure of what, exactly, he should do in this situation, he just stood there until Carson passed by barely a moment later, and paused to stare.
"What the bloody hell did you do to him? You've only had him for half an hour and-"
"Hey! It's not my fault!" Rodney shot back, cutting him off from saying anything more. This was most certainly unfair. First he gets saddled with the brat and then he has to endue the crying, before getting blamed for it. This was not one of Rodney's good days on Atlantis; oh no.
"Oh, so he just started crying due to your loving and nurturing personality, I suppose?" Carson asked somewhat teasingly, only to be instantly surprised as a sullen looking Corey lifted his head and glowered at the doctor. The crying seemed to have mostly stopped, but his cheeks were ruddy and his eyes were still damp.
"Don't talk to my papa like that!" he shouted, blanket beginning to come undone from around his neck. Rodney shifted the child in his arms slightly to grab at it before it completely fell off and slid to the ground. Handing it to the boy, Corey snatched it from him with one hand and held tightly to it with one fist.
"Corey, it's okay," he murmured softly, using that hand to now stroke the boy's back, lightly. "Are you still hungry?" A nod. "All right, let's go and get something to eat." Hopefully this would take the boy's mind off his troubles, and Carson. But, just as Rodney shifted him in his arms once more, to hold him more securely as they started down the hall once more, the boy yelled over Rodney's shoulder.
"And you're mean!" he yelled at Carson, before pulling his blanket, or 'woobie', or whatever Corey wanted to call it, over his head and sticking his thumb firmly into his mouth, sucking fiercely.
Trying not to laugh at Corey's outburst, he supposed the best thing to do would be to just ignore it, because he wasn't about to scold him and have him start crying all over again. Besides, it was nice to have someone to stick up for him, even if that someone was barely a meter tall and still sucked his thumb. (Anyway, everyone thought that Carson was nice- Rodney knew better. The man could be downright vicious. Clearly, the boy was influenced by Other-Rodney's intelligence.)
Regrettably, about five minutes later, Corey seemed perfectly fine, with his blanket behind draped over Rodney's head and tied underneath his chin like a bonnet. His arms were tight around Rodney's neck, nearly choking him, and he decided that he was going to tell Rodney a story as they made their way through the city.
Rodney had already attempted taking a transporter, but Corey had just pouted and whined and stamped his feet on the ground as he refused to get in one because he wanted to walk. And by walk, he meant be carried while Rodney walked. He had no idea how his counterpart put up with this.
"And then, and then, guess what?" he asked for the third time so far in his tale.
"What?" Rodney asked in a pained tone that Corey either didn't identify, or didn't care about.
"Then Daddy said 'Whoa, there, Champ,' and grabbed me and then, guess what!" he said animatedly, using an exaggeratedly deep and drawling voice for what was clearly Other-Sheppard in his story.
"What?" Rodney asked, yet again.
"Then the monster snapped like this-" here, he made a large chomping action with his mouth before continuing, "- and it was this close to eating me and then, then guess what!" Rodney wanted to gag him; that was 'what'. Thankfully, this time Corey didn't wait for Rodney to ask 'what' again.
"Then Papa screamed like a girl and said 'Oh my god, you almost killed him!' and-"
"Wait, wait, wait! Screamed like a girl?" Rodney asked, narrowing his eyes. "I thought you were on my side. I would- your papa would never 'scream like a girl'," he complained.
"But he did!"
"No he didn't."
"Yes he did."
"No he didn't."
"Yes he did!"
"No, he-" and here, Rodney paused, realizing he was getting into a 'Did Not, Did Too,' argument with a four-year-old. "I'm quite sure he didn't," he lamely finished off, lifting his jaw up in his usual 'I'm right, you're wrong' expression.
"Yuh-huh. I was told that when I told this story, that I had to tell it just like that," he explained, just as they, thankfully, made their way into the cafeteria. Hopefully some food would shut the kid up.
"Oh really? And who told you to tell the story just like that?" asked Rodney, bristling a bit at that.
"Uncle Ronon!" the boy suddenly shrieked, before squirming madly in an attempt to wriggle his way out of Rodney's arms. In an effort not to drop Corey, he had to relinquish his hold and set the boy on the ground, who immediately pulled his blanket back as he ran away and towards the towering lug. Whom, Rodney was sure, was the one who told Corey to tell the story like that. It certainly couldn't be Other-Sheppard.
After all, if Other-Rodney and Other-Sheppard were to be (and here, he cringed) married, or something of the like, then there was no way that Other-Rodney would ever put up with that sort of behavior.
"Uncle Ronon, hi, what're you eating? Does it taste good? Can I have some? What's that? Why is it yellow? Does it have citrus? Papa doesn't like it when Daddy eats citrus, so I don't like to eat it either. Where have you been? Are you okay?" he asked, all in a rush as promptly placed himself in his 'Uncle Ronon's' lap without asking permission. Ronon seemed a little shell-shocked; either no-one had seen fit to impart the knowledge of the boy's appearance, or he was horrified that there were now two people in Atlantis who could talk that fast.
"Yeah. I'm fine," he practically grunted, or at least that's how Rodney saw it. Fortunately, Ronon seemed to either have the grace not to ask who the hell the kid was, or he just didn't care. Either way, Rodney was relieved because he was sure it would probably set Corey off crying again and he really didn't want to deal with that again; especially not so soon after the last time.
"Uh, I'm going to go get some food for you," Rodney said cautiously for a moment, eyeing the two of them. Ronon didn't seem particularly upset over the intrusion of personal space, and he didn't look like as if he was about to eat the little kid. "Can you sit here and behave with your… Uncle Ronon? for a few minutes?"
Ronon scoffed at his question, even as Corey nodded dutifully, holding his woobie securely.
"Try having a little backbone, McKay," he said disdainfully. Rodney just shot him (the barbarian) a look, but instead of coming up with a retort, he just left. He was walking on eggshells around Corey for the time being. Maybe if he was lucky, he could dump the kid in Colonel Sheppard's lap, as he certainly didn't want to deal with this.
After collecting a tray of fairly bland, but still decent-tasting foods they were serving today, he came back and set a plate in front of the little boy, tentatively handing him a napkin and spoon. Ronon gave Rodney a look like, are you serious? and gently took the napkin from Corey's chubby finger's and tucked it into the collar of his shirt. But he took one look at the plate of food, and immediately found fault.
"You should have only gotten him things he can't spill on his clothes, so you won't whine like a girl over it, McKay," he snorted. Oh yeah, Other-Ronon was definitely behind that particular story-telling.
"It's'okay," Corey said immediately, "I'll be careful." Corey beamed up at Rodney momentarily, before grabbing the piece of sweet Athosian bread, which Rodney intended him to eat for his dessert, off his plate and shoving it into his mouth. It was probably one of the few things familiar to him. Most of what they were serving today was Earth food, and nothing that he would have probably ever seen before.
Rodney just shot a triumphant look at Ronon before digging into his own food; maybe the 'brat' could be agreeable more often than he had previously thought.
"Daddy, what's in this?" he asked, mouth half full while he poked at the sandwich Rodney had gotten for him.
"Don't talk with your mouth full," he scolded before he could even realize what the hell had just come out of his mouth. Corey just looked put-upon, like that was a phrase he heard all too often. Then again, if Rodney said this to him without even thinking, he was sure it was something Other-Rodney told him constantly at meal times.
"It's a turkey sandwich. Turkey, lettuce, bread," Rodney said, waving his fork around in the air as he spoke. Corey's eyes widened until they were almost popping out of his head.
"You have turkey sandwiches here!" he squeaked loudly, drawing some attention from other people in the mess. Immediately, Corey grabbed the sandwich in his tiny hands and held it up as though it was something beautiful. "Daddy's always wishing for one when we have Lok-lok meat, 'cause he says it's kinda sim'lar but it's just not the same" he explained. Beaming, Corey lifted the sandwich to his mouth and took a large bite out of it, chomping on it enthusiastically, and completely ignoring his vegetable soup.
Not that Rodney expected him to eat it anyway. He just figured he ought to try, in an attempt to keep Carson off his back if he somehow found out what he was feeding the kid. He was scarily omnipotent when it came to things like that.
Ronon laughed at Corey's enthusiasm, setting a huge hand upon his head and ruffling his hair in amusement.
"Reminds me of Sheppard," he said gruffly, patting his head once more before lowering his hand back down to his fork to finish off his mashed potatoes, which was easily his favorite food from Earth. Rodney stared at Ronon for a moment or two before closing his eyes and sighing inwardly.
"You have no idea," he mumbled to himself, wondering if he could possibly pawn the kid off on Ronon for a few hours. The Satedan looked up at Rodney for a moment, giving him a calculating look while he tried to decipher that comment, when he managed to catch Corey sneaking food off his plate out of the corner of his eye.
"What are these? They look sort of like Soma-Fries, but not red," he said, stealing a couple of Ronon's beloved French-Fries. For a moment, Rodney was worried that he was going to have to stand up against Ronon to prevent bloodshed, but the guy just grinned and pushed his plate towards the kid.
"They call 'em French-Fries. Have some," he said. Rodney was in shock. Ronon never let anyone near his French-Fries, let alone actually sharing them. Even Sheppard, whom the guy practically worshipped. There was that one time that they had already started putting the food away for lunch, and he had only just got to the mess to grab some food- and all that Ronon had left on his plate were his French-Fries. He wouldn't let the colonel have even one. He just told him to 'go take one of McKay's power bars," and defended his fries until he had devoured every last one.
Rodney heard this story at great length while Colonel Sheppard tried wheedling some food out of Rodney, who had begrudgingly decided to be kind and share. But he did it only to shut the man up, because he was busy and wanted a reason to force him to touch things in the lab for him.
"Daddy, I'm full, can we go now?" he asked, after eating a handful or so of the coveted fries. Ronon looked shocked (the man showed an emotion other than cockiness or anger twice in one day! McKay, 2 – Sheppard, 0.) and looked over at the kid, who looked nothing like Rodney.
"Wipe your hands and mouth with your napkin, first," he commanded, grabbing Corey's plate and setting it onto his tray for him to take up. He waited a moment while the little boy pulled it out of his shirt and rubbed it, first, all over his lower face, and then, made a show of wiping off his hands. He then handed the napkin to McKay, who just offered the tray for him to drop it on.
"Come on, let's go," he said, waiting for the boy to say his good-bye to Ronon and pick up his woobie, so that Rodney could dispose of what was left and hand in the tray and dishes.
With Ronon looking the way he did at Corey calling him 'Daddy,' he figured asking him to baby-sit was out of the question. Maybe he could rope Elizabeth into doing it. She did, after all, want to see him again.