• Mood: nervous

SGA fic: Be But Sworn My Love [John/Meredith McKay]

Hi. Some interest was expressed by a few of you in seeing SG:A fic from me. Here is an offering that occured to me as I was driving home from work. (please note: this fic, despite it's title, is not actually sappy. It is, however, fluff.)

Title: Be But Sworn My Love
Author: fallen_arazil, aka Djinn
Fandom/Pairing: Meredith/John (girl!Rodney au)
Rating: TEEN for bad language
Word Count: ~750
Summary: Meredith is filled with feminist rage. John understands. Really.
Author Notes: I have this strange fondness for AUs where certain characters are women. I think this is because a lot of the women in TV are poorly written, and I can't identify with them. Anyway, Rodney is one of the characters I felt a desire to feminize, so here we are.

---

"You!" Meredith snapped, arms crossed over her chest. John looked up from his pilfered paperback, bewildered.

"You were expecting someone else?"

Meredith pointed an accusing finger at John, her blue eyes ablaze. "One of those new scientists from the Daedalus referred to me this afternoon as 'Mrs. Sheppard'. Apparently one of your underlings, when asked about my identity, told him I was, not 'Dr. McKay, head of the science division', not 'Dr. McKay, smartest sentient being in this galaxy', not 'Dr. McKay, the only thing that stands between us and total annihilation on a regular basis', but Colonel Sheppard's wife. When did our marriage make me some sort of property?"

John sighed, putting his book aside. "I can't be held responsible for the ideology of every soldier under my command, Mer."

"Bull-fucking-shit! What happens when someone like that goes offworld to a planet run by a matriarchal society? 'Excuse me, ma'am, but I should really discuss this with your husband.' I'm sure they'll be very understanding!"

John rolled his eyes. "You're being--"

"If the next word out of your mouth is 'irrational'," Meredith seethed, "I'm filing for the universe's first intergalactic divorce. You're not the one that everyone is expecting to surrender their identity! Not to mention--do you know how many people have asked me when we're planing to spawn?"

"Three." Sheppard replied tiredly, because he'd been told about each one in great detail.

"And that's three too many! Who in their right mind would think that I want to be a mother? Who in their right mind would think that I should be a mother? All this antiquated, anti-feminist BS is--"

"Mer," John interrupted, trying to be soothing, "people are idiots, you know that, and they have a certain understanding of what happens when people get married. You'd think that living in a flying city in another galaxy would make people rethink their preconceived notions, but some things are just really ingrained. You're going to have to let some of it go."

"It's my name!" Meredith insisted. "How many complex scientific papers have your name on them?"

"All right," John said lightly, "I'll just take your name."

"Oh, knock it off." Meredith snapped, but she didn't turn her face away fast enough to disguise the look of wonder that crossed her face at the suggestion. "You would never. You'd be too afraid that everyone would think your big brass balls had shriveled up and fallen off."

"They'd just think that you had them in your pocket, which isn't far from the truth." John replied, flashing her his most charming smile. Mer's lips curled up a bit in the corner, and John was relieved by the sudden drop in tension in the room. "Anyway, you're the one who's going to be getting a Nobel prize and doing the lecture circuit when this is all over. I'll just be the dumb flyboy trophy husband."

Meredith finally crossed the room to collapse beside him in the best. "Oh, right. Like anyone is going to be interested in the chubby, Canadian, female head of the science division. You'll be the one all the TV bimbos will want to interview." Mer spoke in a ridiculous falsetto, sticking out her chest and shoving an imaginary microphone in John's face. "Oh, Colonel Sheppard, how many big bad aliens did you kill? Can you show us some of your scars? Oh, who do you think is going to pay you in the TV movie?" She flopped onto her back, clearly disgusted.

John was distracted for a moment by that thought. "Who would play me?"

Meredith narrowed her eyes at him thoughtfully for a moment, not sitting up. "Hmm. Jake Gyllenhall? He's a skinny pretty-boy, like you."

John poked her for that description, but didn't drop the subject. "And who would play you?"

Meredith snorted, throwing an arm over her eyes. "God, with my luck, probably Rosie O'Donnell."

John pulled a face. "I am not letting my character marry Rosie O'Donnell."

"Of course not." Meredith replied calmly. "If they made a movie, I'd probably be the villain. The arrogant, over-confident scientist who nearly gets everyone killed and who is saved by your brilliance and bravery. And then you'd probably get married to Teyla."

John considered that, and then laid down on the bed next to his wife, turning to throw an arm across her stomach. "TV movies always suck anyway." He said loftily, and he caught Meredith's lips turning up in a smile.