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May 4th, 2008

03:42 am: Geek in Want of Flyboy—Enquire Within
Title: Geek in Want of Flyboy—Enquire Within
Author: dmchoi87
Rating: G
Genre: AU, pre-slash, character fic
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard...ish
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Word Count: 1418

Summary:
The geek, on the other hand, did not have the good fortune of the flyboy in terms of finding chieftains’ daughters, or their sons for their matter, as he was seen as unamiable by most and therefore worked ceaselessly on his career

Notes: Hello everyone!  Although I'm a veteran writer of fanfic, I never really publish my stuff (due to their incompleteness and rather sloppiness) and technically I'm working on another (and much larger) work than this as my first McKay/Sheppard published!fic, but I just had to post this.  The story is, pressure from friends and family to find a nice boy to settle down with, I decided to write an ad for an online classifieds site notorious for its sexually promiscuous (and intellectually vacuous) crowd that I will not name, since anyone who recognizes "M4M" knows of the horrors that lies beneath it.  However, upon writing this (which was, in part, inspired by skidmo's Arrogance and Assumption on Wraithbait), I realized that I had just written a fanfic in McKay's POV, so I've discarded the idea of posting an ad and instead decided to post it as a fic.  Ah, the wonders of fanfic.  This is unbetaed and totally raw, so I apologize for any mistakes.  Any feedback (including requests for a sequel in John's POV) will be extremely welcome to a cup of tea.  And, of course, standard disclaimer of non-proprietary claims on any characters referred to in this work.


It is a truth intergalactically acknowledged, that a single flyboy in possession of the ATA gene, gravity-defying hair, and complete disregard for self-preservation must be in want of a geek.


However little known the feelings or views of such a flyboy may be on his first entering the event horizon, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding natives, that he is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of the chieftain’s daughters.


The geek, on the other hand, did not have the good fortune of the flyboy in terms of finding chieftains’ daughters, or their sons for their matter, as he was seen as unamiable by most and therefore worked ceaselessly on his career, sublimating all his libido instead into a career of academia, burying himself in equations of physics, treatises of philosophy, and stacks of legal cases, for he found joy only in dealing with human nature, not with humanity.


“My dear son,” said his mother to him one day, “have you heard that Chicago has a large pride parade in the summer?”


Her son replied that he had not. 


“But it does,” returned she; “have you any thoughts of attending?”



“Mother, I do not need you to set me with some verbally incontinent spinster, especially not one who smokes like a chimney, drinks like a fish, and dresses like his mother.”



Thus ended the conversation and the geek returned to his work, knowing full well that the description he had provided was a more accurate caricature of himself than he let his mother know, but it was nonetheless troubling to find that his own mother, the perceivably sanctimonious woman that she is, was suggesting to him, of all people, to get laid.



Now, the geek was so odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humor, reserve, and caprice, that the experience of twenty years had been insufficient to make his mother understand his character.  She nonetheless was resilient and attempted endlessly to end her son’s quiet suffering by finding a suitable flyboy, yet failed miserably every time.  In fact, it had come to the point in which she suggested that he try instead a quick fix, so as to maintain some semblance of sanity in face of his long and arduous calling as a multi-faceted scholar.



In reply to this, the geek offered only words of shock and mutters of embarrassment, for he was quite sanctimonious himself, quick to judgment and intolerant of what he considers as stupidity that was ubiquitous amongst the community of androphiles and homosexuals, and refused to return her phone calls on the risk of blushing again in front of his co-workers and companions.



It so happened that the geek was quite enamored by a certain type of ideal man, but, as his ideas tend to be, so ideal that it rivaled the ontological status of Platonic forms.  What he wanted was an accountable man who was respectable, yet independent in thought and action.  Such a man in itself is quite a rare find, indeed, but despite this particular obstacle, his list goes on.  The intelligence of the geek’s ideal companion would be far beyond his peers, although his display of it would not rival the pride the geek had in his own intelligence, for humility was a virtue the geek cherished, if seldom practiced.  A sense of humor rivaling his own, however, was of utmost importance, as the geek tended towards frustration with those unable to follow his supersonic speed of thought and overpowered by the resulting sonic booms in the abrupt changes in topics of conversation.  Of course, the geek knew that such a person would have great clashes in personality with himself, yet, as a secret indulgence of his was silly banter, he relished in the possibility of spending hours on end, debating every nuanced point in all sciences (particularly natural and social ones), and, for some strange reason, looked forward to getting teased by his flyboy, for he found that affection through cheerful ridicule required a most intimate knowledge of each others’ selves and, quite frankly, bickering like an old married couple is kind of hot.



Beneath the whimsical exterior, however, the geek wished mostly that his flyboy had the maturity and sapience of an old soul who had experienced much; the more turbulent, the better.  He believed strongly in empirical knowledge, as scientists are wont to do, and he also believed strongly in the power of introspection and rationalization of experiences, for an individual who is self-aware is more able to understand those around him than one who is not.  World travelers were quite enticing to the geek, especially those who have served in the military, and perhaps worlds travelers were equally, if not more, enticing, quite especially of the interplanetary travel was through artificial wormholes induced by gate-rings set up throughout space.



Despite all of these fantasies of space travel, the geek was still particularly attracted to seemingly overgrown children who love college football, Ferris Wheels, and things that travel faster than two-hundred miles per hour.  As a man of reason, however, the geek knew that finding such a man outside of a popular science fiction television series was to be extremely difficult, even if the name “John Sheppard” is quite common.



Pushing back his blonde curls, adjusting his glasses up to his tired eyes, the geek observed himself in the mirror and evaluated his features.  A round strong face that alternated between devilish humor and pensive reserve stared back at him with all the dignity of a scholar of a postwar world and the geek emanated the Western Tradition like no other as the names “Aristotle” and “Nietzsche” rolled off his tongue with equal fluidity as the terms “electric flux” and “density tensor.”  The scholar’s face was attached to a scholar’s body—solid from the years of martial arts and dance, yet round from the years of a sedentary lifestyle restricted in front of a computer screen that spent equal time on science articles and user-generated media.  He believed himself to be of average height, ten inches and five feet, and donned the minimalist fashion of a college student: short sleeved shirts, occasionally inscribed with aphorisms better suited for books and bumper stickers, and denim pants that have been run down over the months of violent abuse, running to and from class, and more often than not, from professors.



He tried projecting the image of his ideal flyboy next to him in the looking glass and found it surprisingly easy.  A tall and broad-shouldered man, he radiated a sense of confidence in his ability to make a fool of himself (as evident in the smirk that shaped his stubbled face and the sentience of his disheveled hair), yet also had a soothing aura that put the geek at ease by his mere presence.  Unlike the geek, the flyboy’s profession did not allow for the luxury of moping behind a tall stack of books, and his body clearly indicated that he was a warrior—strong muscular arms that grew from a broad and well-defined chest illustrated the strength in his torso and thick legs were evidence of both swift agility and powerful kicks.  There was no doubt, this man was built for combat, yet amidst his imposing physique, he had a gentle demeanor that made him quite affable and easily approachable for help or directions, a random conversation, or even a comforting embrace.  However, there was still a glint in his eyes that reflected a sense of wary guard, for the flyboy was a man of many secrets and his experiences had fortified a fortress of solid granite around himself from the attacks on his person and his life.  At the same time, the protection that was implicit in his every stare was extended to protect his geek, as when he looked at his geek, the protection was coupled with unquenchable desire and a genuine amazement in finding someone so irascible, someone so testing, someone so endearing, someone so… perfect.



The geek shook his head and banished all thoughts of his imaginary lover.  He felt as if he were some poofed Jane Austen writing a romantic comedy of sorts involving a geek and a flyboy.  As in line with his rather workaholic tendencies, he left the mirror, left his imagination, and returned to progressing mankind by three centuries.  But secretly, in the back of his mind, he knew that somehow, somewhere, he was to meet his mysterious flyboy.



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