Fic: "Smorgasbord" by Dianann, PG
Oct. 12th, 2005 11:28 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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sga_flashficTitle: Smorgasbord
Status: Complete
Author: Dianann
Main Character(s): Sheppard and McKay
Warnings: Spoilers for Siege 3, takes place directly afterwards.
Rating: PG for content (though it should be R for what was obviously going through John’s mind :) ).
Summary: The Daedalus brought a lot of supplies with them.
Notes: This is my first sga_flashfic fic, which just so happens to be for the food challenge :) Thank you to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kelex for the beta. 461 words.
Thick, flaky cheese danishes, filled with jam and jelly in every flavor known to man. Turkey sandwiches, stacked deep with bacon, lettuce and tomato, real tomato, as real as the rye bread and mustard and mayo. Fruit, canned fruit anyway, but peaches were peaches, and they tasted so much better in the thick syrup than with sugar. Hotdogs and hamburgers, no Alien Beast Mystery Meat but good old American processed mystery meat, barbecued to a nice crispy black and enveloped in fluffy white bread. Pizza, as thick as Sheppard’s hand, topped with everything but anchovies because anchovy was reserved for the enormous green Spanish olives that tasted just about as good as sex, if not better. Homemade waffles with thick maple syrup and actual butter. Macaroni and cheese, honest to god macaroni and cheese, not that crap that came in MREs, but all cheesy and drippy and so fucking good that it was a dozen orgasms in one.
Golden french fries salted to perfection, and thick, cold ketchup to dip them in. Baked potatoes so big they were a meal unto themselves, fluffy on the inside and packed with chives and butter and sour cream and bacon bits. Fried chicken, so crispy it crunched just by picking it up, so perfectly cooked the meat fell off the bone. Cooked cabbage that smelled like John’s grandma’s house and tasted like sin. Spaghetti, topped with every color imaginable: white, red, pink, yellow, with the thickest, most delicious garlic bread in the galaxy.
And the ice cream.
Chocolate, vanilla, strawberry. Brownie Batter, Chubby Hubby, Wavy Gravy, New York Super Fudge Chunk. Chocolate Chip, Cookie Dough, Strawberry Cheesecake, Truffle. Rocky Road, and Cherry Vanilla, and holy fuck, Caramel Sutra.
John nearly creamed his pants.
God bless the Daedalus.
John managed, with difficulty, to pull his eyes away from the smorgasbord in front of him, only because he’d nearly committed suicide today and it didn’t seem polite to completely pig out until McKay was–
He blinked. “Rodney, are you crying?”
McKay sniffled, loudly. “Normally, I would debase your manhood in some way and flay the very flesh from your bones, but in this instance I've been awake for ninety three hours and I've just been presented with what amounts to my every fantasy of the last fourteen months, so yes, Major, I am crying like a little girl. Keep everyone away from me, or so help me God, I won’t be responsible for what I do.”
John blinked stupidly, watched McKay battle the throng with his tongue and his elbows, and hurried to catch up to him before he did something unfortunate like disembowel someone for taking the last danish.
It had nothing to do with the fact that they were right by the turkey sandwiches.
Status: Complete
Author: Dianann
Main Character(s): Sheppard and McKay
Warnings: Spoilers for Siege 3, takes place directly afterwards.
Rating: PG for content (though it should be R for what was obviously going through John’s mind :) ).
Summary: The Daedalus brought a lot of supplies with them.
Notes: This is my first sga_flashfic fic, which just so happens to be for the food challenge :) Thank you to
kelex for the beta. 461 words.Smorgasbord
Thick, flaky cheese danishes, filled with jam and jelly in every flavor known to man. Turkey sandwiches, stacked deep with bacon, lettuce and tomato, real tomato, as real as the rye bread and mustard and mayo. Fruit, canned fruit anyway, but peaches were peaches, and they tasted so much better in the thick syrup than with sugar. Hotdogs and hamburgers, no Alien Beast Mystery Meat but good old American processed mystery meat, barbecued to a nice crispy black and enveloped in fluffy white bread. Pizza, as thick as Sheppard’s hand, topped with everything but anchovies because anchovy was reserved for the enormous green Spanish olives that tasted just about as good as sex, if not better. Homemade waffles with thick maple syrup and actual butter. Macaroni and cheese, honest to god macaroni and cheese, not that crap that came in MREs, but all cheesy and drippy and so fucking good that it was a dozen orgasms in one.
Golden french fries salted to perfection, and thick, cold ketchup to dip them in. Baked potatoes so big they were a meal unto themselves, fluffy on the inside and packed with chives and butter and sour cream and bacon bits. Fried chicken, so crispy it crunched just by picking it up, so perfectly cooked the meat fell off the bone. Cooked cabbage that smelled like John’s grandma’s house and tasted like sin. Spaghetti, topped with every color imaginable: white, red, pink, yellow, with the thickest, most delicious garlic bread in the galaxy.
And the ice cream.
Chocolate, vanilla, strawberry. Brownie Batter, Chubby Hubby, Wavy Gravy, New York Super Fudge Chunk. Chocolate Chip, Cookie Dough, Strawberry Cheesecake, Truffle. Rocky Road, and Cherry Vanilla, and holy fuck, Caramel Sutra.
John nearly creamed his pants.
God bless the Daedalus.
John managed, with difficulty, to pull his eyes away from the smorgasbord in front of him, only because he’d nearly committed suicide today and it didn’t seem polite to completely pig out until McKay was–
He blinked. “Rodney, are you crying?”
McKay sniffled, loudly. “Normally, I would debase your manhood in some way and flay the very flesh from your bones, but in this instance I've been awake for ninety three hours and I've just been presented with what amounts to my every fantasy of the last fourteen months, so yes, Major, I am crying like a little girl. Keep everyone away from me, or so help me God, I won’t be responsible for what I do.”
John blinked stupidly, watched McKay battle the throng with his tongue and his elbows, and hurried to catch up to him before he did something unfortunate like disembowel someone for taking the last danish.
It had nothing to do with the fact that they were right by the turkey sandwiches.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-10-13 05:07 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-10-14 02:40 am (UTC)