(no subject)
Title: "Noisy"
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Disclaimer: Er, no, not mine at all.
Rating : PG-13, probably.
Pairing : Ronon Dex/Rodney McKay
Summary : Ronon discovers a way to shut Rodney up.
Notes : This fic is teza's fault because I made her write Teyla/Carson. Uh. She made me do it because she knows I don't like Ronon very much. :P I didn't manage to get them to shag, either. Also? Her fic is better, so I got the better end of the deal. My only excuse is that I've never actually written in this fandom. :P
Beta : Like I'd inflict this on anyone? Er, unbeta'd.
Ronon was staring at him again.
Rodney did his best to ignore it, as usual. Big and silent, the guy wasn't the most pleasant of companions, and if he insisted on staring at Rodney with that dark-toned skepticism all the time, at least he wasn't shouting at him or trying to kill him. It was getting hard to ignore with John and Teyla closeted with the natives the next tent over. They were in the midst of negotiations - negotiations which Rodney was not pleased about being excluded from, though Ronon's exclusion seemed obvious. Though it was necessary to bring your trained killing ape along with you when you went offworld in case you needed it to kill things for you, you didn't want to scare people with it when you were trying to persuade them you were more or less harmless and worth trading with.
Finally, Rodney looked away from his nervous doodling and stared back at him. "/What/?"
Ronon didn't answer.
"No seriously, I'm curious," Rodney said, "what are you looking at? Is there something on my face? Have I offended you in some way?"
Dark brows lifted.
"It can't have been my table manners, I hope," Rodney said snidely.
Ronon answered: "You are extremely noisy."
Rodney blinked at him. "Well, I suppose I -"
"And you aren't military," Ronon interrupted.
"No, I'm not military. You /see/, there are those of us who understand that not everything has to be solved with --"
"And yet you're on his team." Ronon stalked across the tent, looming over Rodney as he perched in the chair. Rodney swallowed, staring round-eyed up at the scowling man whose arms were planted on either arm of his chair.
"Er - yes?" squeaked Rodney.
"You carry a weapon," growled Ronon. One hand pressed against Rodney's holster, then, pulled his gun out. Its muzzle waved, idly close to Rodney's nose.
"Look, Ronon, I really don't think M -- Colonel Sheppard is going to be really all that pleased if he comes back and finds out you've, you know, gone completely /insane/..."
White teeth bared in a feral grin. "Does he keep you for amusement value?"
"Uh - very possibly, now would you please put that --"
"How do you taste?" asked Ronon casually.
Rodney stared. His brain gibbered at him. "/What/?" he squeaked.
Ronon's clarification came in the form of his mouth, pressed against Rodney's. Rodney wriggled as the big man pinned him to the chair, a mouth opened for more protestation - reduced to a strangled "mmph!" - that merely allowed access to warm tongue wielded more expertly in its exploration than tongues were generally wielded in the region of Rodney's mouth.
Ronon slid Rodney's gun back into its holster, his fingers drawing a tickling pattern over uniform fabric in ever-more-intimate regions. He bit Rodney's lower lip, delicately, and then withdrew.
"Huh," Ronon said.
Rodney was still staring at him in bewildered silence when John and Teyla came back.
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Disclaimer: Er, no, not mine at all.
Rating : PG-13, probably.
Pairing : Ronon Dex/Rodney McKay
Summary : Ronon discovers a way to shut Rodney up.
Notes : This fic is teza's fault because I made her write Teyla/Carson. Uh. She made me do it because she knows I don't like Ronon very much. :P I didn't manage to get them to shag, either. Also? Her fic is better, so I got the better end of the deal. My only excuse is that I've never actually written in this fandom. :P
Beta : Like I'd inflict this on anyone? Er, unbeta'd.
Ronon was staring at him again.
Rodney did his best to ignore it, as usual. Big and silent, the guy wasn't the most pleasant of companions, and if he insisted on staring at Rodney with that dark-toned skepticism all the time, at least he wasn't shouting at him or trying to kill him. It was getting hard to ignore with John and Teyla closeted with the natives the next tent over. They were in the midst of negotiations - negotiations which Rodney was not pleased about being excluded from, though Ronon's exclusion seemed obvious. Though it was necessary to bring your trained killing ape along with you when you went offworld in case you needed it to kill things for you, you didn't want to scare people with it when you were trying to persuade them you were more or less harmless and worth trading with.
Finally, Rodney looked away from his nervous doodling and stared back at him. "/What/?"
Ronon didn't answer.
"No seriously, I'm curious," Rodney said, "what are you looking at? Is there something on my face? Have I offended you in some way?"
Dark brows lifted.
"It can't have been my table manners, I hope," Rodney said snidely.
Ronon answered: "You are extremely noisy."
Rodney blinked at him. "Well, I suppose I -"
"And you aren't military," Ronon interrupted.
"No, I'm not military. You /see/, there are those of us who understand that not everything has to be solved with --"
"And yet you're on his team." Ronon stalked across the tent, looming over Rodney as he perched in the chair. Rodney swallowed, staring round-eyed up at the scowling man whose arms were planted on either arm of his chair.
"Er - yes?" squeaked Rodney.
"You carry a weapon," growled Ronon. One hand pressed against Rodney's holster, then, pulled his gun out. Its muzzle waved, idly close to Rodney's nose.
"Look, Ronon, I really don't think M -- Colonel Sheppard is going to be really all that pleased if he comes back and finds out you've, you know, gone completely /insane/..."
White teeth bared in a feral grin. "Does he keep you for amusement value?"
"Uh - very possibly, now would you please put that --"
"How do you taste?" asked Ronon casually.
Rodney stared. His brain gibbered at him. "/What/?" he squeaked.
Ronon's clarification came in the form of his mouth, pressed against Rodney's. Rodney wriggled as the big man pinned him to the chair, a mouth opened for more protestation - reduced to a strangled "mmph!" - that merely allowed access to warm tongue wielded more expertly in its exploration than tongues were generally wielded in the region of Rodney's mouth.
Ronon slid Rodney's gun back into its holster, his fingers drawing a tickling pattern over uniform fabric in ever-more-intimate regions. He bit Rodney's lower lip, delicately, and then withdrew.
"Huh," Ronon said.
Rodney was still staring at him in bewildered silence when John and Teyla came back.