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sga_saturdayTitle: Trash Talk
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
esteefee
Pairing: Mensa!John/Mensa!Radek
Rating: PG
Categories: pre-slash, AU
Words: 323
Warnings: none
Summary: It's all about sweet-talking the boss.
Trash Talk
by esteefee
"Bureaucrat," John said, shoving his glasses up his nose. "Pencil-pusher! All you guys think about is the bottom line. We need that microspectrophotometer. This project could win me the Nobel! And you're shunting my resources over to Botany for their stupid field emission scanning electron microscope." John gave Director Zelenka his best stink-eye.
"Did I not just purchase you an FTIR spectrometer?" Zelenka waggled a pen at him insultingly. "And with ATR accessory to boot?"
"Big deal." John slumped. "And what ever happened to my particle accelerator?"
Radek looked amused. "When you can beat me at chess, perhaps."
"I can so beat you at chess!"
"And yet I have seen no actual evidence of this any of the times we have played." Radek smiled, his blue eyes twinkling in a very annoying way. John didn't like it. It made him want to do something irritatingly spontaneously and unscientific involving full body nudity and personal lubricant. He suppressed a shudder.
"I so will. Tonight, in fact," John said. "Your king will topple like a proof with a busted axiom. And when I beat you, you'll toss Dr. Lorne's requisition and buy me a sweet, sweet microspectrophotometer instead."
Radek smiled. The full-on, dimpled variety John had cataloged as 'Roguish, with a bit of intelligent whimsy.' It made something funny happen to John's lower intestine.
"If, as you say, you win the day, I will give you your desire, John," Radek said. "Of course, should I win, I will be free to pick my own spoils."
"Right. Um, okay," John said uncertainly. "So, well, yeah. See you tonight."
"Tonight."
"Okay."
"Yes." Radek tapped his pen. "This is my office."
"Oh, right." John got up and held his tablet in front of his waist. "Later," he said, and headed out the door.
Suddenly he wasn't sure if he wanted to win or lose. He had a pretty good feeling either way he would get screwed.
End.
Author:
esteefeePairing: Mensa!John/Mensa!Radek
Rating: PG
Categories: pre-slash, AU
Words: 323
Warnings: none
Summary: It's all about sweet-talking the boss.
Trash Talk
by esteefee
"Bureaucrat," John said, shoving his glasses up his nose. "Pencil-pusher! All you guys think about is the bottom line. We need that microspectrophotometer. This project could win me the Nobel! And you're shunting my resources over to Botany for their stupid field emission scanning electron microscope." John gave Director Zelenka his best stink-eye.
"Did I not just purchase you an FTIR spectrometer?" Zelenka waggled a pen at him insultingly. "And with ATR accessory to boot?"
"Big deal." John slumped. "And what ever happened to my particle accelerator?"
Radek looked amused. "When you can beat me at chess, perhaps."
"I can so beat you at chess!"
"And yet I have seen no actual evidence of this any of the times we have played." Radek smiled, his blue eyes twinkling in a very annoying way. John didn't like it. It made him want to do something irritatingly spontaneously and unscientific involving full body nudity and personal lubricant. He suppressed a shudder.
"I so will. Tonight, in fact," John said. "Your king will topple like a proof with a busted axiom. And when I beat you, you'll toss Dr. Lorne's requisition and buy me a sweet, sweet microspectrophotometer instead."
Radek smiled. The full-on, dimpled variety John had cataloged as 'Roguish, with a bit of intelligent whimsy.' It made something funny happen to John's lower intestine.
"If, as you say, you win the day, I will give you your desire, John," Radek said. "Of course, should I win, I will be free to pick my own spoils."
"Right. Um, okay," John said uncertainly. "So, well, yeah. See you tonight."
"Tonight."
"Okay."
"Yes." Radek tapped his pen. "This is my office."
"Oh, right." John got up and held his tablet in front of his waist. "Later," he said, and headed out the door.
Suddenly he wasn't sure if he wanted to win or lose. He had a pretty good feeling either way he would get screwed.
End.
