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sheafrotherdon 's someecard minifest.
Inspiration found here.
SGA, McKay/Sheppard
Word count: ~1900.
Notes: No betas, and mostly written up at the last minute so if there are mistakes, please point 'em out. This was mostly a self-indulgent exercise in thinking about Rodney's arms.
This time, instead of being crammed into a small niche in the bottom of an Ancient console, Rodney was saving the lives of everyone on planet “oh-hey-the-shield-quit-working-just-in-time-for-the-Wraith-to-show-up” by standing on a ladder set up on a platform and reaching up into the shield controls. Sheppard was on the other side of the ladder, holding it steady, and Ronon and Teyla were standing guard against Wraith and stupid shield-breaking-Wraith-worshippers. Rodney was multitasking between the life saving and cursing the Ancients and their three-feet too-short platforms and possibly freakishly long arms.
Sweat and sparks threatened to obscure his vision from above, and he really needed to remember to add goggles to his tac vest, especially if John couldn’t be relied upon to share his fly boy sunglasses. Rodney glanced down to give John a glare, but John’s attention was focused just above Rodney’s head and Rodney followed John’s gaze back to…Rodney’s arms?
Rodney glanced back and John was, still, well, staring was the first word that came to mind, and this was a little weird but just then he heard the swooshing sound of a Wraith dart and Teyla was calling out – “Now, Rodney! You must turn it on now!” and John was growling “McKay” at him while Ronon charged his blaster and Rodney’s fingers snapped the last crystal into place and the shield was back and they were free to go and be celebrated as true heroes while negotiating for the grain-like product that produced a beer-like drink.
Back in Atlantis that night, as Rodney was showering off the sweat and celebratory-beer, he remembered Sheppard’s odd stare. Rodney craned an arm over his head, but it didn’t seem to have any suspicious moles. He stepped out of the shower and rubbed condensation off the mirror, and examined his arms in his reflection. Were they getting flabby? He didn’t really have time to work out regularly, what with all the life saving that went on, and muscle mass was harder to retain with age.
Was John worried that Rodney won’t be able to handle the P-90, that he shouldn’t risk him on the off-world team? Rodney went to bed and tried to dismiss the idea, but he couldn’t get it out of his head.
He caught John staring again on M13-PQX, and after the team had washed the slimy, green swamp algae (not sentient, thank god) off in the public showers, Rodney took a few minutes to examine his arms in the double mirrors just off the changing room. He stopped when Ronon told him to quit flexing in public (Rodney disregarded this characterization of his action—Ronon was a demon with a wet towel.) Outside, once Rodney was back in his science uniform, he found John leaning heavily on the wall, pale and breathing hard and a little sweaty.
“Oh my god, did you catch the flu? Or was that algae completely disease ridden, Carson doesn’t actually know plants at all!”
John opened his eyes and smiled at Rodney a little. “Nah, I’m just a little tired.”
Rodney frowned in response, and moved closer to Sheppard, holding his shoulder against the wall with one hand and putting his other on John’s forehead. He was a little sweaty, but not running a fever, but when Rodney removed his hand and took a step back, John let out a small sigh, as if he couldn’t hold himself up alone.
Rodney escorted Sheppard back to his quarters, and when John turned in his doorway and gave Rodney another tired smile, so unlike the usual smirks, Rodney found himself handing over the chocolate bar he’d stashed for a late-night pick me up and telling Sheppard he’d better not end up throwing it up.
The next time Rodney saw Sheppard, he was smirking and slouching in his usual manner, and Rodney stopped worrying about space flu and algae sleeping sickness.
* * * * *
Another day, another mission, except this time it was just Rodney and Sheppard, hunting down a few spare space gates for a new bridge, or offensive measures against new and exciting enemies, or, as John pointed out, “who knows!” Rodney was happy enough—Sheppard had decided that scoping out planets was a good practice for Rodney in maneuvering the puddlejumper within atmosphere, and he was getting pretty good at skimming treetops, if he did say so himself. Except, this planet was very much inhabited, but somehow the resident population had gone unnoticed by the Wraith long enough to develop a thick atmosphere of black carbon, which John characterized as 19th Century London-ish, distracting Rodney enough that when the dinosaur flew up out of the clouds, he wasn’t able to avoid it’s headlong dive onto the top of the puddlejumper and instead got to practice an emergency landing.
So there he was, reaching up into the control crystals in the rear compartment, when he saw Sheppard staring again, again, at his arms, and this time he couldn’t help saying, “What? What?!” John turned bright red immediately, which made Rodney gape at him openly, and without once looking back up, John mumbled something about “putting the gym to use, good job, McKay” and wandered back to the front of the ‘jumper. He sat in the pilots chair, back bent painfully straight, and stared out into the grey, smoggy air.
Rodney gaped for a minute longer, but then he was back to replacing crystals so they could get off this dinosaur-infested rock. But on the way back to Atlantis, Rodney couldn’t stop thinking about it. Was John jealous of his musculature? This was such an absurd thought that Rodney laughed out loud and had to make up a science joke to tell John when he asked, “What’s so funny, McKay?”
No, Rodney may have some rather nice bicep definition, he wasn’t going to deny that, and John was a little on the scrawny side, but really that just showed off his collarbones and ahem, well. Anyways. The jealousness hypothesis was clearly absurd, and the only context in which John staring at Rodney’s arms made any sense is the original theory—that John was concerned about Rodney’s competence in the field.
After the debriefing and the visit to Carson, who assured Rodney that the puddlejumper’s air filters kept him from developing miner’s lung while on planet DragonSmog (TM, Sheppard, of course), Rodney put his plan into action.
“Colonel, I’d like to schedule a few extra sessions in the armory with you,” Rodney began. “Obviously my aim has improved over the course of our off world missions, but I wouldn’t want to get behind any new advances in weapons training.”
He and Sheppard had been walking towards private quarters, but John’s steps slowed to a stop by the end of Rodney’s short proposal. John was staring again, but this time at Rodney’s face, which was somewhat of an improvement, Rodney thought, and had a fleeting thought for some past below-the-neck-staring of his own, but he brushed it off to concentrate on his current agenda.
“Maybe I’ll join you in the morning for a jog, and we can spend some time practicing my grip after that,” Rodney said.
Rodney noticed that John seemed to be turning a pinkish color again. Yes, his hypothesis was absolutely correct and John was ashamed at being caught out, or perhaps at how maturely Rodney was handling the situation. As if he didn’t want to be on the team! Rodney nodded firmly at Sheppard, and turned down the hallway to his own quarters, calling our “I’ll see you in the morning!” as he went.
Of course there was a crisis with the temperature control system that night that somehow managed to affect some of the outlying shield components, so several days passed before Rodney was able to reschedule his armory date with John.
It was in the late afternoon, but Rodney decided to try jogging on his own beforehand, just to see if he could do it without completely embarrassing himself in front of Ronon. (Rodney thought that John would probably slow down if necessary, but Rodney knew Ronon enjoyed gathering up information to torture Rodney with, a tactic for which Rodney had a great, if grudging respect.)
Rodney had circled out to the west pier and was heading back towards the central tower when he caught up with Teyla, who was walking in his direction. She smiled brightly at him, and he took the opportunity to slow to a walk gratefully.
“Rodney, I heard you were planning a course of exercise! How have you enjoyed your run?” Teyla asked.
Rodney rolled his eyes a bit, but it was Teyla, so he replied with a “Yes yes, very invigorating to run without worrying about spears or arrows or other projectiles coming at me from behind.” Telya continued to beam at him, which frankly was starting to be a little worrisome.
“Yes,” she said, “John seemed very happy…that you were taking your off world responsibilities so seriously.”
“Well good!” Rodney huffed. “I always take my responsibilities seriously, Sheppard should know that.”
“Of course he does, Rodney, you must know that,” Teyla responded soothingly. “I think John was perhaps happy to spend more time with you as well. You have both been very busy lately, and it is good for friends to spend time together.”
Rodney huffed again, but couldn’t help feeling a bit of a glow at Teyla’s words. Spending time with John was almost always fun, especially when the fun didn’t end with Rodney working frantically to saving everyone’s life.
John was in the armory when Rodney arrived, and they were going over the basic stances when Rodney’s brain finally clicked. John had leaned over to straighten Rodney’s elbow out a bit, and to nudge his right foot a bit farther out, and then, still leaning into Rodney, he took a deep breath.
And OH. Rodney felt a rush of heat, a momentary embarrassment at not seeing it sooner, because jesus, which was quickly replaced by a rushing of blood out of his brain and into his dick, which replied with a yes yes yes.
Rodney pushed back against John, just a bit, and wriggled (ha had been told that his ass was one of his best features) and John swallowed, loudly in Rodney’s ear. Rodney was feeling almost woozy now, dizzy with sudden revelations and lust, and he slowly lowered the gun, careful to not move out of John’s proximity. But when Rodney set the gun down, and turned around, John was backing away, face down and as red as in the puddle jumper just a few days ago.
Rodney thought shut and lock at the door and said, “John, come here.” John looked up and met Rodney’s eyes, and slowly slowly moved forward, until Rodney could lean in and duck his mouth towards John’s ear and say, “John, I don’t lift weights.”
John let out a startled laugh, and then reached up and clutched Rodney’s face, so goddamned gentle, and replied, “Yeah, I know,” and brought their faces together to suck a little on Rodney’s lower lip.
Later, after some making out, and John breathing in the smell of Rodney’s neck (and maybe there had been some neck staring that Rodney has missed? Seriously, jesus.), and maybe a little arm biting, Rodney mumbled into John’s ear, “I’m really not that oblivious.”
And in response to that declaration, John turned his face back into Rodney’s neck to muffle his freakish, honking laughs. Rodney was kind-of okay with that.
Written for
sheafrotherdon 's someecard minifest.Inspiration found here.
SGA, McKay/Sheppard
Word count: ~1900.
Notes: No betas, and mostly written up at the last minute so if there are mistakes, please point 'em out. This was mostly a self-indulgent exercise in thinking about Rodney's arms.
This time, instead of being crammed into a small niche in the bottom of an Ancient console, Rodney was saving the lives of everyone on planet “oh-hey-the-shield-quit-working-just-in-time-for-the-Wraith-to-show-up” by standing on a ladder set up on a platform and reaching up into the shield controls. Sheppard was on the other side of the ladder, holding it steady, and Ronon and Teyla were standing guard against Wraith and stupid shield-breaking-Wraith-worshippers. Rodney was multitasking between the life saving and cursing the Ancients and their three-feet too-short platforms and possibly freakishly long arms.
Sweat and sparks threatened to obscure his vision from above, and he really needed to remember to add goggles to his tac vest, especially if John couldn’t be relied upon to share his fly boy sunglasses. Rodney glanced down to give John a glare, but John’s attention was focused just above Rodney’s head and Rodney followed John’s gaze back to…Rodney’s arms?
Rodney glanced back and John was, still, well, staring was the first word that came to mind, and this was a little weird but just then he heard the swooshing sound of a Wraith dart and Teyla was calling out – “Now, Rodney! You must turn it on now!” and John was growling “McKay” at him while Ronon charged his blaster and Rodney’s fingers snapped the last crystal into place and the shield was back and they were free to go and be celebrated as true heroes while negotiating for the grain-like product that produced a beer-like drink.
Back in Atlantis that night, as Rodney was showering off the sweat and celebratory-beer, he remembered Sheppard’s odd stare. Rodney craned an arm over his head, but it didn’t seem to have any suspicious moles. He stepped out of the shower and rubbed condensation off the mirror, and examined his arms in his reflection. Were they getting flabby? He didn’t really have time to work out regularly, what with all the life saving that went on, and muscle mass was harder to retain with age.
Was John worried that Rodney won’t be able to handle the P-90, that he shouldn’t risk him on the off-world team? Rodney went to bed and tried to dismiss the idea, but he couldn’t get it out of his head.
He caught John staring again on M13-PQX, and after the team had washed the slimy, green swamp algae (not sentient, thank god) off in the public showers, Rodney took a few minutes to examine his arms in the double mirrors just off the changing room. He stopped when Ronon told him to quit flexing in public (Rodney disregarded this characterization of his action—Ronon was a demon with a wet towel.) Outside, once Rodney was back in his science uniform, he found John leaning heavily on the wall, pale and breathing hard and a little sweaty.
“Oh my god, did you catch the flu? Or was that algae completely disease ridden, Carson doesn’t actually know plants at all!”
John opened his eyes and smiled at Rodney a little. “Nah, I’m just a little tired.”
Rodney frowned in response, and moved closer to Sheppard, holding his shoulder against the wall with one hand and putting his other on John’s forehead. He was a little sweaty, but not running a fever, but when Rodney removed his hand and took a step back, John let out a small sigh, as if he couldn’t hold himself up alone.
Rodney escorted Sheppard back to his quarters, and when John turned in his doorway and gave Rodney another tired smile, so unlike the usual smirks, Rodney found himself handing over the chocolate bar he’d stashed for a late-night pick me up and telling Sheppard he’d better not end up throwing it up.
The next time Rodney saw Sheppard, he was smirking and slouching in his usual manner, and Rodney stopped worrying about space flu and algae sleeping sickness.
* * * * *
Another day, another mission, except this time it was just Rodney and Sheppard, hunting down a few spare space gates for a new bridge, or offensive measures against new and exciting enemies, or, as John pointed out, “who knows!” Rodney was happy enough—Sheppard had decided that scoping out planets was a good practice for Rodney in maneuvering the puddlejumper within atmosphere, and he was getting pretty good at skimming treetops, if he did say so himself. Except, this planet was very much inhabited, but somehow the resident population had gone unnoticed by the Wraith long enough to develop a thick atmosphere of black carbon, which John characterized as 19th Century London-ish, distracting Rodney enough that when the dinosaur flew up out of the clouds, he wasn’t able to avoid it’s headlong dive onto the top of the puddlejumper and instead got to practice an emergency landing.
So there he was, reaching up into the control crystals in the rear compartment, when he saw Sheppard staring again, again, at his arms, and this time he couldn’t help saying, “What? What?!” John turned bright red immediately, which made Rodney gape at him openly, and without once looking back up, John mumbled something about “putting the gym to use, good job, McKay” and wandered back to the front of the ‘jumper. He sat in the pilots chair, back bent painfully straight, and stared out into the grey, smoggy air.
Rodney gaped for a minute longer, but then he was back to replacing crystals so they could get off this dinosaur-infested rock. But on the way back to Atlantis, Rodney couldn’t stop thinking about it. Was John jealous of his musculature? This was such an absurd thought that Rodney laughed out loud and had to make up a science joke to tell John when he asked, “What’s so funny, McKay?”
No, Rodney may have some rather nice bicep definition, he wasn’t going to deny that, and John was a little on the scrawny side, but really that just showed off his collarbones and ahem, well. Anyways. The jealousness hypothesis was clearly absurd, and the only context in which John staring at Rodney’s arms made any sense is the original theory—that John was concerned about Rodney’s competence in the field.
After the debriefing and the visit to Carson, who assured Rodney that the puddlejumper’s air filters kept him from developing miner’s lung while on planet DragonSmog (TM, Sheppard, of course), Rodney put his plan into action.
“Colonel, I’d like to schedule a few extra sessions in the armory with you,” Rodney began. “Obviously my aim has improved over the course of our off world missions, but I wouldn’t want to get behind any new advances in weapons training.”
He and Sheppard had been walking towards private quarters, but John’s steps slowed to a stop by the end of Rodney’s short proposal. John was staring again, but this time at Rodney’s face, which was somewhat of an improvement, Rodney thought, and had a fleeting thought for some past below-the-neck-staring of his own, but he brushed it off to concentrate on his current agenda.
“Maybe I’ll join you in the morning for a jog, and we can spend some time practicing my grip after that,” Rodney said.
Rodney noticed that John seemed to be turning a pinkish color again. Yes, his hypothesis was absolutely correct and John was ashamed at being caught out, or perhaps at how maturely Rodney was handling the situation. As if he didn’t want to be on the team! Rodney nodded firmly at Sheppard, and turned down the hallway to his own quarters, calling our “I’ll see you in the morning!” as he went.
Of course there was a crisis with the temperature control system that night that somehow managed to affect some of the outlying shield components, so several days passed before Rodney was able to reschedule his armory date with John.
It was in the late afternoon, but Rodney decided to try jogging on his own beforehand, just to see if he could do it without completely embarrassing himself in front of Ronon. (Rodney thought that John would probably slow down if necessary, but Rodney knew Ronon enjoyed gathering up information to torture Rodney with, a tactic for which Rodney had a great, if grudging respect.)
Rodney had circled out to the west pier and was heading back towards the central tower when he caught up with Teyla, who was walking in his direction. She smiled brightly at him, and he took the opportunity to slow to a walk gratefully.
“Rodney, I heard you were planning a course of exercise! How have you enjoyed your run?” Teyla asked.
Rodney rolled his eyes a bit, but it was Teyla, so he replied with a “Yes yes, very invigorating to run without worrying about spears or arrows or other projectiles coming at me from behind.” Telya continued to beam at him, which frankly was starting to be a little worrisome.
“Yes,” she said, “John seemed very happy…that you were taking your off world responsibilities so seriously.”
“Well good!” Rodney huffed. “I always take my responsibilities seriously, Sheppard should know that.”
“Of course he does, Rodney, you must know that,” Teyla responded soothingly. “I think John was perhaps happy to spend more time with you as well. You have both been very busy lately, and it is good for friends to spend time together.”
Rodney huffed again, but couldn’t help feeling a bit of a glow at Teyla’s words. Spending time with John was almost always fun, especially when the fun didn’t end with Rodney working frantically to saving everyone’s life.
John was in the armory when Rodney arrived, and they were going over the basic stances when Rodney’s brain finally clicked. John had leaned over to straighten Rodney’s elbow out a bit, and to nudge his right foot a bit farther out, and then, still leaning into Rodney, he took a deep breath.
And OH. Rodney felt a rush of heat, a momentary embarrassment at not seeing it sooner, because jesus, which was quickly replaced by a rushing of blood out of his brain and into his dick, which replied with a yes yes yes.
Rodney pushed back against John, just a bit, and wriggled (ha had been told that his ass was one of his best features) and John swallowed, loudly in Rodney’s ear. Rodney was feeling almost woozy now, dizzy with sudden revelations and lust, and he slowly lowered the gun, careful to not move out of John’s proximity. But when Rodney set the gun down, and turned around, John was backing away, face down and as red as in the puddle jumper just a few days ago.
Rodney thought shut and lock at the door and said, “John, come here.” John looked up and met Rodney’s eyes, and slowly slowly moved forward, until Rodney could lean in and duck his mouth towards John’s ear and say, “John, I don’t lift weights.”
John let out a startled laugh, and then reached up and clutched Rodney’s face, so goddamned gentle, and replied, “Yeah, I know,” and brought their faces together to suck a little on Rodney’s lower lip.
Later, after some making out, and John breathing in the smell of Rodney’s neck (and maybe there had been some neck staring that Rodney has missed? Seriously, jesus.), and maybe a little arm biting, Rodney mumbled into John’s ear, “I’m really not that oblivious.”
And in response to that declaration, John turned his face back into Rodney’s neck to muffle his freakish, honking laughs. Rodney was kind-of okay with that.
no subject
Date: 2009-04-07 01:16 am (UTC)