SGA fic: Fitting In (Lorne/everyone; R)
Title: Fitting In
Rating: R
Pairings: Lorne/everyone.
Summary: Atlantis isn't the SGC.
Notes: Many, many thanks to ozsaur for the beta, and for encouraging me to post this. The fic came out of a chat with mklutz.
Atlantis isn't so different from the SGC. Different aliens, different tech, but at the end of the day, they're all wearing uniforms, and they all know why they're here. The one difference Lorne really notices is the sex. Specifically, people are having it. A lot. He'd heard rumours about the SGC, but if people had been fucking like bunnies there, they'd been a lot more careful about it. Here, no one really seems to care. He puts it down to isolation, no families to go home to, and a complete lack of good TV.
It takes Lorne a while to get used to it. There aren't exactly orgies in the mess hall, but it's more than a little disconcerting to come around a corner in an isolated area, and find your CO standing there, clothes rumpled, lips a little slick, and mysteriously alone. He tries not to think about who Sheppard was with, because it's just not need to know. Ever.
But eventually he learns to take it in stride. He ignores the looks personnel give each other across rooms, or during meals, or after particularly rough missions. He pretends that Sheppard isn't breaking at least a couple chain of command regs, and eventually, he learns to take the offers gracefully.
Sometimes the come-ons are a little overwhelming, but he learns to grin easily, say "Thanks," in a way that says no, and just to show no hard feelings, pat the soldier (or scientist) on the shoulder.
It happens after a mission that went six ways sideways. When he gets his team - what's left of it - back to Atlantis, the 'gate room is almost instantly milling with people, with medical personnel, with Weir and Sheppard checking everyone out, asking questions about what happened. He can see that Sheppard is already making mental notes about roster changes for the next few days.
He looks up, just to look away from the bleeding men and women around him, just for a minute. And Chuck is standing in the control room, watching it all, his mouth a thin line.
Chuck the 'gate tech, who had approached Lorne, just once, and asked, "You free for the evening?" At the time, Lorne hadn't been interested, even if Chuck was a decent, funny guy.
But now, Chuck is watching him, and it's been a hell of a day, and this isn't the SGC. Sometimes he deserves to unwind in the best way possible. "What the hell," he says under his breath, nodding slightly, half-smiling. And then he's turning back to Sheppard, answering questions.
After Lorne gets checked out, stitched up, and released from the infirmary, Chuck corners him in the hallway. He kind of crowds into Lorne; if anyone was watching, it wouldn't look too weird, but Lorne knows what it means. It means that five minutes later, they're in Lorne's room, Lorne backed up against the door, hands up inside Chuck's shirt, and wondering why he's been ignoring this Atlantis sex thing for so damn long.
Chuck starts off a pattern. Lorne isn't indiscrete - he's a hell of a lot more discrete than some of the personnel - but he stops declining every offer made. He keeps it private, behind locked doors, but once the doors are locked, he's happy to do pretty much anything. At first it's just Chuck, but the reason things work in Atlantis is that almost everyone understands the no strings thing. No strings, just a way to unwind, to laugh, to let go.
He knows some people want something more intense, but Lorne steers away from those people.
"Sure," he says to Ronon, one day after dinner. They'd spent most of the day covering each other's asses on yet another mission where the locals turned abruptly hostile. Lorne's still coming down from the adrenaline high, and it's obvious Ronon is too.
Fucking Ronon is about as intense as Lorne figured it would be, but he doesn't expect the way Ronon laughs, after, long and hard, his chest shaking, and his hands clenching the sheets, knuckles almost white.
"Another time," Ronon says, after, and Lorne thinks yeah, hell yeah.
On P3X-454, Lorne leans over and kisses McKay hard, mostly just to shut him up about how this is not the way he's supposed to die.
"Oh, great," McKay says, pushing Lorne away, and brushing dirt off his pants. "What are you, taking lessons from Sheppard on dumbing down the situation? This isn't the time for some ridiculous dalliance."
Even in the dim light, Lorne can see the way McKay's mouth is tense at the corners. And yeah, he thinks maybe this is the time. It's not like they're getting out of this situation anytime soon - or possibly ever - and McKay just won't shut up about it. If Lorne's going to die, he'd rather be doing something else with his last hours. So he leans closer again, and this time McKay doesn't push him away.
"McKay," Sheppard says, later, when they've been rescued, brushed off, and checked over, "you seem pretty relaxed about the whole thing. Lorne knock you over the head or something?"
Lorne manages to hide his smirk. There are some people who Lorne isn't ever going to fuck, and Sheppard is one of them. Some lines shouldn't be crossed, even if Sheppard is the most laid-back CO Lorne's ever had. Not that Lorne really thinks Sheppard is as laid-back as he pretends to be.
There's one time with Teyla. Just one time. After, Lorne doesn't stop grinning for days. He notices that she's smiling a lot, too. McKay even makes a comment about it, but Lorne just keeps his mouth shut. Discretion, that's what it's all about, even if the rules are constantly being bent.
With Parrish, it's just fun. Somehow, Lorne ends up with grass in his teeth, and dirt under his fingernails, and he thinks that maybe Parrish liked it that way, messy and green and lush. The next time with Parrish is in an actual bed, and Parrish tastes like Athosian spirits, and relief. Lorne can't keep his mouth off him.
But at the end of the day, if he's feeling worn out and exhausted and hopeless and horny, he tries to track down Chuck first.
Sometimes the first is always the best.
End.
Rating: R
Pairings: Lorne/everyone.
Summary: Atlantis isn't the SGC.
Notes: Many, many thanks to ozsaur for the beta, and for encouraging me to post this. The fic came out of a chat with mklutz.
Atlantis isn't so different from the SGC. Different aliens, different tech, but at the end of the day, they're all wearing uniforms, and they all know why they're here. The one difference Lorne really notices is the sex. Specifically, people are having it. A lot. He'd heard rumours about the SGC, but if people had been fucking like bunnies there, they'd been a lot more careful about it. Here, no one really seems to care. He puts it down to isolation, no families to go home to, and a complete lack of good TV.
It takes Lorne a while to get used to it. There aren't exactly orgies in the mess hall, but it's more than a little disconcerting to come around a corner in an isolated area, and find your CO standing there, clothes rumpled, lips a little slick, and mysteriously alone. He tries not to think about who Sheppard was with, because it's just not need to know. Ever.
But eventually he learns to take it in stride. He ignores the looks personnel give each other across rooms, or during meals, or after particularly rough missions. He pretends that Sheppard isn't breaking at least a couple chain of command regs, and eventually, he learns to take the offers gracefully.
Sometimes the come-ons are a little overwhelming, but he learns to grin easily, say "Thanks," in a way that says no, and just to show no hard feelings, pat the soldier (or scientist) on the shoulder.
It happens after a mission that went six ways sideways. When he gets his team - what's left of it - back to Atlantis, the 'gate room is almost instantly milling with people, with medical personnel, with Weir and Sheppard checking everyone out, asking questions about what happened. He can see that Sheppard is already making mental notes about roster changes for the next few days.
He looks up, just to look away from the bleeding men and women around him, just for a minute. And Chuck is standing in the control room, watching it all, his mouth a thin line.
Chuck the 'gate tech, who had approached Lorne, just once, and asked, "You free for the evening?" At the time, Lorne hadn't been interested, even if Chuck was a decent, funny guy.
But now, Chuck is watching him, and it's been a hell of a day, and this isn't the SGC. Sometimes he deserves to unwind in the best way possible. "What the hell," he says under his breath, nodding slightly, half-smiling. And then he's turning back to Sheppard, answering questions.
After Lorne gets checked out, stitched up, and released from the infirmary, Chuck corners him in the hallway. He kind of crowds into Lorne; if anyone was watching, it wouldn't look too weird, but Lorne knows what it means. It means that five minutes later, they're in Lorne's room, Lorne backed up against the door, hands up inside Chuck's shirt, and wondering why he's been ignoring this Atlantis sex thing for so damn long.
Chuck starts off a pattern. Lorne isn't indiscrete - he's a hell of a lot more discrete than some of the personnel - but he stops declining every offer made. He keeps it private, behind locked doors, but once the doors are locked, he's happy to do pretty much anything. At first it's just Chuck, but the reason things work in Atlantis is that almost everyone understands the no strings thing. No strings, just a way to unwind, to laugh, to let go.
He knows some people want something more intense, but Lorne steers away from those people.
"Sure," he says to Ronon, one day after dinner. They'd spent most of the day covering each other's asses on yet another mission where the locals turned abruptly hostile. Lorne's still coming down from the adrenaline high, and it's obvious Ronon is too.
Fucking Ronon is about as intense as Lorne figured it would be, but he doesn't expect the way Ronon laughs, after, long and hard, his chest shaking, and his hands clenching the sheets, knuckles almost white.
"Another time," Ronon says, after, and Lorne thinks yeah, hell yeah.
On P3X-454, Lorne leans over and kisses McKay hard, mostly just to shut him up about how this is not the way he's supposed to die.
"Oh, great," McKay says, pushing Lorne away, and brushing dirt off his pants. "What are you, taking lessons from Sheppard on dumbing down the situation? This isn't the time for some ridiculous dalliance."
Even in the dim light, Lorne can see the way McKay's mouth is tense at the corners. And yeah, he thinks maybe this is the time. It's not like they're getting out of this situation anytime soon - or possibly ever - and McKay just won't shut up about it. If Lorne's going to die, he'd rather be doing something else with his last hours. So he leans closer again, and this time McKay doesn't push him away.
"McKay," Sheppard says, later, when they've been rescued, brushed off, and checked over, "you seem pretty relaxed about the whole thing. Lorne knock you over the head or something?"
Lorne manages to hide his smirk. There are some people who Lorne isn't ever going to fuck, and Sheppard is one of them. Some lines shouldn't be crossed, even if Sheppard is the most laid-back CO Lorne's ever had. Not that Lorne really thinks Sheppard is as laid-back as he pretends to be.
There's one time with Teyla. Just one time. After, Lorne doesn't stop grinning for days. He notices that she's smiling a lot, too. McKay even makes a comment about it, but Lorne just keeps his mouth shut. Discretion, that's what it's all about, even if the rules are constantly being bent.
With Parrish, it's just fun. Somehow, Lorne ends up with grass in his teeth, and dirt under his fingernails, and he thinks that maybe Parrish liked it that way, messy and green and lush. The next time with Parrish is in an actual bed, and Parrish tastes like Athosian spirits, and relief. Lorne can't keep his mouth off him.
But at the end of the day, if he's feeling worn out and exhausted and hopeless and horny, he tries to track down Chuck first.
Sometimes the first is always the best.
End.