randomly reccy - fic to make you smile. or snort soda, as the case might be

Happyfic.

Neither a Ocelot Nor a Raccoon Be by basingstoke

"We'll be here. Hanging out. In the tree." John settled his shoulders against the trunk, stretching out his legs and crossing them casually at the ankle. The branches were relatively thin, but they seemed to take their weight well enough.

Beside him, Rodney was straddling his branch and clinging desperately to the trunk just above John's head. "Seriously, did you take classes in this, or did you just have your fear surgically removed as a child?" Rodney snarled.

John shrugged. "I like to save it up for bad first dates and visits with my father."

For some reason, that part always makes me snicker.

Euler's Jewel by basingstoke

John stood up and finally caught sight of Rodney, mouth open. Looking like he'd seen God, or maybe figured out how to make chocolate from simple polymers and mud. "You... okay there, Rodney?" John asked.

"Would you marry me? I'd have the sex change," Rodney said.

One day, I'm going to do a rec post that is nothing but my favorite lines from my favorite stories.

Operation Think of Atlantis by liviapenn

"The soft sciences are so easily traumatized. I mean it's not surprising, since they obviously don't have even the basic mental fortitude that would enable them to become experts in, say... astrophysics, or anything else that's a real science. The kind of grit and determination that enables a man to forge bravely on and do what's absolutely necessary in the pursuit of, oh for example a hidden ZPM underneath a penis temple."

"Please don't say penis temple," John said, squinting up into the perfectly blue sky. He made himself do the mental mission assessment. Good news: possible ZPM. Bad news: possible public sex. With McKay.

Never in the history of time will anyone ever top 'penis temple'.

It's Not Citrus by nudaydreamer

John figured taking a nibble of Rodney's doughnut of Great Personal Significance had less potential for diplomatic disaster than a continuation of Rodney's very loud and kinetic freak-out, so he shot the priestess/baker what he hoped was a sufficiently apologetic look before taking a small bite.

Which he then had to fight very hard not to spit onto the ground.

“Oh my God, it IS citrus,” McKay was warbling, and John really, really just wanted to lie and say that it was orange marmalade, because the reality was... quite a bit more unpleasant.

The texture was wrong, sure – it would have made more sense as a cream filling, if you'd set out to do such a thing – and yes, he'd only ever tasted it second-hand, but there was a certain flavor that a guy just knew.

The greatest. Donut. Ever.