For svmadelyn's badfic-summary challenge, summary from hyperfocused: Rodney MmmKay's mother always told him smart boys never get the hot guys. Can he pretend to be dumb so hunky pilot John Shep Hard will ask him to the Atlantis: Under the Sea prom? W/ my OC Princess Ancienta. Warnings: ANGST M/M plz rd/rvw Oh, yeah.

. . . composed from a great number of actual surveys; and other materials regulated by many new scientifick observations of their Affections and Masculine Virtues. Drawn up from the Journals which were kept by the several Commanders, And from the Papers of M. Rodney McKay, Esq., FRS; In One Volume, written by A Lady of Quality. September 1811, Halifax, Nova Scotia: His Majesty's Aerial Corps stand ready to welcome new additions to their number; an expedition late of the Antipodes.

"Here’s an idea," John said. "Let’s just not talk about it. That’s been working pretty well for the last two months."

Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans.

Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans.

"You're not a very good Jedi, are you?" the Sith Lord said. "Oh, excuse me, I am an excellent Jedi," Rodney said.

"Let's go with Banach-Tarski as your safeword," McKay says almost absently, lips tracing lazily along John's hairline, and John blinks. // "You want to go with a Euclidean geometric paradox for my safeword?" he asks, bemused.

"I hope you picked someone really intelligent, otherwise it seems like it would be kind of a waste. Of incubation time, if nothing else."

A disgruntled lieutenant approaches Jack about DADT, Sheppard and McKay.

John had gotten kind of blasé about offworld travel.

Rule # 1: For every scientist, there is a grunt who loves them.

Rodney steps up. (Warning, I should probably be shot for this.)

The whole thing started when Yertel asked McKay, “If you have had trouble bearing fruit, there are many men in this camp who will be happy to help,” and Rodney said, “What? Oh, no, our fruit supplies are fine—actually, I’m allergic to citrus anyway so I’m bigger on you know, cake,” which turned out to be some sort of near-tacit admission of infertility on P6X-990.

"And then the door chimed, and Woolsey came in looking mournful and anxious, and everything got derailed.Death and life, hope and hopelessness, aren't just for the Pegasus galaxy. Eventually, inevitably, it's going to happen on Earth. John and Rodney, loss and family and what it means to be home."

SGA meets Bravo's Project Runway. There are mentions of pinking shears.

"Hardcore BDSM, that's easy. Hickeys, though. Hickeys are hard."

Rodney had been trained for his position from near infancy. He had excelled in his studies and been selected for the apprenticeship over candidates twice his age. Now, years later, Rodney held the second most powerful position in the village. There was no one else who could do what he did. That didn’t make it any less meaningless.

The hammock was something he'd done more or less on a whim, liking the idea of it more than really expecting to use it. It's not like Rodney is much of an escape-for-a-nap in the middle of the day kind of guy, let alone a sleep-outside-with-the-bugs-and-risk-the-likelihood-of-slowly-developing-skin-cancer kind of guy.

"They all think I’m your boyfriend anyway," John said. "Yes, so? You are my boyfriend," Rodney said. "Why is this a problem?" "They thought I was before I even was!" John yelled.

In his rational mind, Rodney knew that following a girl who'd dumped you was really, really pathetic.

Stiles is wandering the corridors of Stargate Command in search of caffeine and calories when he meets Major Ford.

It was just Rodney's luck that the guy with the strongest expression of the ATA gene on Earth was some lanky alpha who couldn't follow an order as basic as "don't touch anything."