![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eliyesYou know how I write stories where McKay is Dr. Meredith Rhonda McKay, and goes by Ronnie?
This is not one of those.
This is the 'verse with Dr. Meredith Ingrid McKay, who goes by Mary and works at the SGC. I first thought up a story that takes place a lot later on and primarily features that 'verse's O'Neill, but I finished this bit of backstory first.
Title: Sunny Day In Metropolis...
Summary: McKay has some news for her sister.
"You're engaged?!" Jean's voice was somewhere between a yell and a squeal. Meredith "Mary" McKay winced and switched the phone to her other ear.
"That's what I just said."
"When were you going to tell me?!"
"I just told you!" Mary protested, exasperated. She had never understood her little sister's fixation on marriage; it seemed to have gotten worse since Jean came out of the closet.
"I had no idea you were this serious!"
"Yeah, well, now you know." Mary frowned down at her work table. Where were her wire cutters? She kicked away from the wall, spinning her chair so she was facing her tool bench when she reached it. "Anyway, how could you not know? I've only been dating the guy for three years. None of my other boyfriends lasted that long."
"But you weren't even in the same state for over a year of that!" Jean sputtered. "And okay, granted you and I seem to do better when we're interacting long-distance, but in that case I would have thought you'd break up after you moved to Colorado."
"Gee, thanks," Mary said sarcastically, rolling back to her project.
"So, how'd he propose?"
"Which time?" Mary asked absently, double-checking her measurements before carefully snipping a piece of insulated copper wire.
"What does that mean? He proposed more than once? Oh my god, you turned him down and he actually tried again?!"
Breathing a deep sigh of annoyance, Mary set down her tools and leaned back in her chair.
"No," she said, rubbing the side of her face. "I said yes both times, I just... forgot that he'd asked." She raised her voice to override Jean's squawk. "In my defense, I was exhausted, and a little out of it with afterglow. Anyway, he proposed again last night, with a ring, and there are pictures."
"Send me --"
"As soon as I have copies."
"So how did he do it? The second time; I really don't want to know about your sex life."
"The feeling is mutual, believe me. And what do you want, here? He asked, I said yes, end of story."
"He didn't get down on one knee?"
"No. How could he? He was in an infirmary bed."
"What? What happened? Was he shot?"
"His injury did not involve bullets," Mary hedged, because Sam had been shot, but the weapon was from another planet and therefore nothing she could tell Jean about. "Anyway, he's fine, he was mostly just being kept for observation in case of shock. They released him this morning, we're having dinner when he's done at work. That's all I can tell you."
Jean blew noisily into the phone, the usual sign that she was disgusted with Mary playing the 'it's classified' card. Over the years it had become a sort of shorthand: 'insert disapproving rant about the American military complex, and your involvement with same, here'. By standing agreement Jean kept to the shorthand, and in return Mary stopped using the word "hippy" to describe her gay vegetarian anti-military younger sister. Though, frankly, now that Mary had to deal with anthropologists on a regular basis, she probably wouldn't apply the word to Jean anymore.
Jean's girlfriend, on the other hand...
"I am now going to ask you all the girly questions you're going to be fielding from pretty much every woman you know," Jean announced.
"Oh, god," Mary groaned, reaching for a square-head screwdriver.
"It's good practice. Answer honestly now, figure out how to change the subject later. So, since I can't see the ring, describe it to me."
"It's a thin gold band with a diamond in it, Jean. That's pretty standard."
"Is it a big diamond?"
"No, which I'll have you know I prefer. It doesn't stick out much so I don't have to take it off to work."
"Snotty people will inquire after the carat of both gold and rock."
"Snotty people can kiss my ass. I don't know and I don't care."
"Is the diamond cruelty-free?"
"Hm, probably not, given it was Sam's mother's ring. I don't think they did cruelty-free back in the day."
"Ah. No. Also, that's more old-fashioned than I expected. And did you actually imply that you don't want to take the ring off? That's nearly sweet." A teasing note warmed her voice.
Mary extended her left hand to look at the ring on her finger. She hadn't taken it off since Sam had put it there. It was irrational, she knew, but it felt like a link to him. It felt... nice.
"He is. Sweet, I mean. Sometimes."
"I'll take your word for it, since I've never met him."
"This again. You know, you could come visit."
"So could you."
"Strangely, Customs officials seem to find me suspicious."
"Might have something to do with how you work on Top Secret American government stuff, whilst keeping your Canadian citizenship. They probably think you're a spy. Especially with our family history." There was a pause. "Or it might just be because traveling makes you really bitchy."
"I hate flying! It's a phobia!" Mary protested.
"And yet you work for the Air Force!"
"Better than the CIA. Does it really bother you?"
"You're going to have to be more specific, Mer."
"Mary. Or I start calling you Jeannie again."
"Fine, fine."
"And I mean that I might marry Sam before you even meet him."
"Well, I assume I'd meet him at the wedding."
Mary swiveled her chair nervously.
"...Right?" Jean's tone had turned dangerous. "You can't not invite your own -- your only -- sister to your wedding!"
"About that..."
"MARY!! Oh, my god, what the hell is this?" Jean yelled. "Is this what that was about?"
"What what was --"
"Because I would fly down for your wedding, you know!"
"Well, of course you would," Mary replied, puzzled. Jean either deflated or was struck speechless; Mary took advantage of the pause. "It's just that -- that I was thinking maybe just a civil ceremony, y'know, maybe --" She laughed nervously. "-- a Vegas wedding-slash-honeymoon."
"You're going to elope?!"
"Well, I haven't run it by Sam yet, but it's a thought."
Jean gurgled incoherently into the phone.
"Okay, seriously, picture a wedding with me as the bride. Big stupid white dress? Uh, hello, I hate wearing dresses. And I don't think Sam deserves to deal with the Clan McKay."
"So don't invite everyone!" Jean yelled.
"Who do you suggest, Jean?" Mary yelled right back. "Sam is from a military family, and has military friends. And then there's our relatives. Who in that mix is going to keep the peace, huh? You? Have I mentioned what a homophobic bitch Sam's sister is?" She leaned heavily on her workbench.
"You are totally freaking out about this, aren't you."
"Honestly? I would have to say yes? I just --" She waved her arm, aware that Jean couldn't see it, and sighed. "I just hate big social events, and I don't have nearly as many friends as Sam does --"
"-- and our family is insane --" Jean helpfully supplied, sounding somewhat sympathetic.
"Yeah. This is all -- I just want the stupid ceremony part over, you know. Skip to the good part."
"'The good part'?"
"Yeah. Sam and me, 'til death do us part. Officially." No more having to argue as hard to see him in the infirmary, Mary thought longingly. She didn't kid herself that other women would stop looking at Sam, or trying to seduce him away, but he would be hers in a way he couldn't be theirs. Legally, anyway.
"Wow. You are being sweet," Jean commented, sounding amazed.
"I can be sweet," Mary protested.
"Yeah. You can. I just, y'know, forget." After a moment of awkwardly companionable silence, Jean spoke again in a more normal tone.
"You're gonna take 'obey' out of your vows, right?"
Mary snorted.
"Nobody'd believe it even if I didn't."
Con-crit invited!
This is not one of those.
This is the 'verse with Dr. Meredith Ingrid McKay, who goes by Mary and works at the SGC. I first thought up a story that takes place a lot later on and primarily features that 'verse's O'Neill, but I finished this bit of backstory first.
Title: Sunny Day In Metropolis...
Summary: McKay has some news for her sister.
"You're engaged?!" Jean's voice was somewhere between a yell and a squeal. Meredith "Mary" McKay winced and switched the phone to her other ear.
"That's what I just said."
"When were you going to tell me?!"
"I just told you!" Mary protested, exasperated. She had never understood her little sister's fixation on marriage; it seemed to have gotten worse since Jean came out of the closet.
"I had no idea you were this serious!"
"Yeah, well, now you know." Mary frowned down at her work table. Where were her wire cutters? She kicked away from the wall, spinning her chair so she was facing her tool bench when she reached it. "Anyway, how could you not know? I've only been dating the guy for three years. None of my other boyfriends lasted that long."
"But you weren't even in the same state for over a year of that!" Jean sputtered. "And okay, granted you and I seem to do better when we're interacting long-distance, but in that case I would have thought you'd break up after you moved to Colorado."
"Gee, thanks," Mary said sarcastically, rolling back to her project.
"So, how'd he propose?"
"Which time?" Mary asked absently, double-checking her measurements before carefully snipping a piece of insulated copper wire.
"What does that mean? He proposed more than once? Oh my god, you turned him down and he actually tried again?!"
Breathing a deep sigh of annoyance, Mary set down her tools and leaned back in her chair.
"No," she said, rubbing the side of her face. "I said yes both times, I just... forgot that he'd asked." She raised her voice to override Jean's squawk. "In my defense, I was exhausted, and a little out of it with afterglow. Anyway, he proposed again last night, with a ring, and there are pictures."
"Send me --"
"As soon as I have copies."
"So how did he do it? The second time; I really don't want to know about your sex life."
"The feeling is mutual, believe me. And what do you want, here? He asked, I said yes, end of story."
"He didn't get down on one knee?"
"No. How could he? He was in an infirmary bed."
"What? What happened? Was he shot?"
"His injury did not involve bullets," Mary hedged, because Sam had been shot, but the weapon was from another planet and therefore nothing she could tell Jean about. "Anyway, he's fine, he was mostly just being kept for observation in case of shock. They released him this morning, we're having dinner when he's done at work. That's all I can tell you."
Jean blew noisily into the phone, the usual sign that she was disgusted with Mary playing the 'it's classified' card. Over the years it had become a sort of shorthand: 'insert disapproving rant about the American military complex, and your involvement with same, here'. By standing agreement Jean kept to the shorthand, and in return Mary stopped using the word "hippy" to describe her gay vegetarian anti-military younger sister. Though, frankly, now that Mary had to deal with anthropologists on a regular basis, she probably wouldn't apply the word to Jean anymore.
Jean's girlfriend, on the other hand...
"I am now going to ask you all the girly questions you're going to be fielding from pretty much every woman you know," Jean announced.
"Oh, god," Mary groaned, reaching for a square-head screwdriver.
"It's good practice. Answer honestly now, figure out how to change the subject later. So, since I can't see the ring, describe it to me."
"It's a thin gold band with a diamond in it, Jean. That's pretty standard."
"Is it a big diamond?"
"No, which I'll have you know I prefer. It doesn't stick out much so I don't have to take it off to work."
"Snotty people will inquire after the carat of both gold and rock."
"Snotty people can kiss my ass. I don't know and I don't care."
"Is the diamond cruelty-free?"
"Hm, probably not, given it was Sam's mother's ring. I don't think they did cruelty-free back in the day."
"Ah. No. Also, that's more old-fashioned than I expected. And did you actually imply that you don't want to take the ring off? That's nearly sweet." A teasing note warmed her voice.
Mary extended her left hand to look at the ring on her finger. She hadn't taken it off since Sam had put it there. It was irrational, she knew, but it felt like a link to him. It felt... nice.
"He is. Sweet, I mean. Sometimes."
"I'll take your word for it, since I've never met him."
"This again. You know, you could come visit."
"So could you."
"Strangely, Customs officials seem to find me suspicious."
"Might have something to do with how you work on Top Secret American government stuff, whilst keeping your Canadian citizenship. They probably think you're a spy. Especially with our family history." There was a pause. "Or it might just be because traveling makes you really bitchy."
"I hate flying! It's a phobia!" Mary protested.
"And yet you work for the Air Force!"
"Better than the CIA. Does it really bother you?"
"You're going to have to be more specific, Mer."
"Mary. Or I start calling you Jeannie again."
"Fine, fine."
"And I mean that I might marry Sam before you even meet him."
"Well, I assume I'd meet him at the wedding."
Mary swiveled her chair nervously.
"...Right?" Jean's tone had turned dangerous. "You can't not invite your own -- your only -- sister to your wedding!"
"About that..."
"MARY!! Oh, my god, what the hell is this?" Jean yelled. "Is this what that was about?"
"What what was --"
"Because I would fly down for your wedding, you know!"
"Well, of course you would," Mary replied, puzzled. Jean either deflated or was struck speechless; Mary took advantage of the pause. "It's just that -- that I was thinking maybe just a civil ceremony, y'know, maybe --" She laughed nervously. "-- a Vegas wedding-slash-honeymoon."
"You're going to elope?!"
"Well, I haven't run it by Sam yet, but it's a thought."
Jean gurgled incoherently into the phone.
"Okay, seriously, picture a wedding with me as the bride. Big stupid white dress? Uh, hello, I hate wearing dresses. And I don't think Sam deserves to deal with the Clan McKay."
"So don't invite everyone!" Jean yelled.
"Who do you suggest, Jean?" Mary yelled right back. "Sam is from a military family, and has military friends. And then there's our relatives. Who in that mix is going to keep the peace, huh? You? Have I mentioned what a homophobic bitch Sam's sister is?" She leaned heavily on her workbench.
"You are totally freaking out about this, aren't you."
"Honestly? I would have to say yes? I just --" She waved her arm, aware that Jean couldn't see it, and sighed. "I just hate big social events, and I don't have nearly as many friends as Sam does --"
"-- and our family is insane --" Jean helpfully supplied, sounding somewhat sympathetic.
"Yeah. This is all -- I just want the stupid ceremony part over, you know. Skip to the good part."
"'The good part'?"
"Yeah. Sam and me, 'til death do us part. Officially." No more having to argue as hard to see him in the infirmary, Mary thought longingly. She didn't kid herself that other women would stop looking at Sam, or trying to seduce him away, but he would be hers in a way he couldn't be theirs. Legally, anyway.
"Wow. You are being sweet," Jean commented, sounding amazed.
"I can be sweet," Mary protested.
"Yeah. You can. I just, y'know, forget." After a moment of awkwardly companionable silence, Jean spoke again in a more normal tone.
"You're gonna take 'obey' out of your vows, right?"
Mary snorted.
"Nobody'd believe it even if I didn't."
Con-crit invited!