Just a swift comment-fic written for with_apostrophe, who inadvertently prompted it :) Set in the Port Call AU.

~570 words, Silly Gen.



After three weeks on board ship, Rodney had become accustomed to finding things in unusual places. What he had not become accustomed to, however, was finding his own things in unusual places, such as his copy of Principia being used as a headrest by the lookout, or his telescope's tripod being used to hang a cooking pot from.

When he caught one of the crew having a mock-duel with his finest pistols, it was the last straw. Still cradling the precious guns in his arms, he marched straight into Sheppard's state room.

"Enough is enough!"

Looking up from his charts, Sheppard raised an eyebrow. "You know, you're supposed to send a glove first, I think. Or hit me with it. Something like that. It's a gentleman thing."

"Then I'm not surprised you don't know." Rodney sniffed, carefully off-loading the pistols onto the table and ignoring Sheppard's glare. "You have to stop your men from helping themselves to my belongings. They could have damaged them."

Sheppard stared at him. "They're pirates, McKay. What do you expect? This isn't the billiards room at White's."

"I expect them to have some small respect for the man who keeps them from crashing into the shoreline on a regular basis." It was hard not to be distracted by the map under Sheppard's right elbow. From what he could see from his admittedly awkward angle, it looked to be a new survey. But he hadn't come in here to debate cartographical discoveries.

"Actually, Radek does fairly well at that all by himself," Sheppard said evenly, leaning back in his chair and giving Rodney a good view of the map. "Of course, if you were to lend him your precious telescope..."

"Hmmm?" That was strange. According to Rodney's calculations, that island should be about half the size of- His brain caught up with his ears at last. "What? Out of the question." Without really thinking, he drew the map closer, turning it so that he had a better sense of perspective. As expected, the maker had fallen into the usual traps. When Rodney published his own, definitive map of the area, it was going to clear everyone else off the board. "Oh, no no no," he said, looking round for a writing implement, and having to settle for stabbing his finger at the (worthless piece of) paper. "Honestly, were they standing on their heads when they drew this? Any idiot knows that's a four day sail, even at best speed. To draw it as though you could span the distance with a bridge is sheer lunacy. I hope you didn't pay money for this." When he didn't get an immediate answer, Rodney glanced up at Sheppard, who was smiling at him with a most insolent expression on his face. "What?"

"Nothing." Not quite managing to suppress his smirk, Sheppard tilted his head a fraction. "Was there something you wanted, Rodney?"

What Rodney really wanted was a pen, ink and possibly a pike for the map-maker's head. He settled for huffing haughtily, picking up his pistols and looking down his nose at Sheppard. "I shall bring you the first draft of my new map. Perhaps then I'll be allowed to continue my studies in peace, without having to count my socks every morning."

He made a point of slamming the state room door, but not before he heard a burst of laughter from behind him.