FIC: Blanket Permission, PG, SGA, McShep
Title: Blanket Permission
Author: Tara Keezer
Rating: PG
Notes: Pre-slash McKay/Sheppard; 1,365 words.
Summary: The first time Sheppard all but shoved Rodney out of his own bed to make room, Rodney woke up only enough to slur, “The fuck?”
~*~*~
The first time Sheppard all but shoved Rodney out of his own bed to make room, Rodney woke up only enough to slur, “The fuck?”
“Shut up and go back to sleep.” Sheppard proceeded to make himself comfortable in Rodney’s bed without so much as a, “May I?” (Though in Sheppard’s case, it would have been a, “Can I,” because the man had an appalling grasp of English grammar.) Any other time, Rodney would have put up more of a fuss, but he was exhausted from having nearly died earlier in the day. Also, despite the complete lack of anything resembling fat, Sheppard put out a surprising amount of body heat, a fact he absently noted when Sheppard wrapped himself around Rodney.
He did a quick, if sleepy, cost-benefit analysis and decided that the effort of kicking Sheppard out was far outweighed by the benefit of finally being warm. Rodney squirmed irritably, shoved his left foot back and between Sheppard’s shins, then snorted into his arm before falling asleep again.
In the morning, Sheppard was gone, and Rodney felt better than expected, all things considered. He would have asked Sheppard what the hell was going on, but between one thing and another - mostly saving Atlantis from the morons the SGC insisted on saddling them with - Rodney put the question at the bottom of his to-do list and promptly forgot about it.
~*~*~
The second time Sheppard showed up to shove Rodney over to the far side of his bed, he was a lot more gentle than the first time. For one thing, Rodney had a couple of bruised ribs. For another, so did Sheppard.
Rodney thought about objecting, but a vague sense memory of the first time convinced him to move over without bitching. When Sheppard settled in behind Rodney, he carefully reached back to grab Sheppard’s left arm and drag it around him. Rodney fell asleep with Sheppard snoring softly into his neck and Sheppard’s hand clasped over his heart.
In the morning, Sheppard was gone when Rodney woke up, but this time, he left a note: “Get your ass to the gym at 1000 hours. I’m sick and goddamn tired of having to haul you to the gate because you’re out of shape. JS.”
Rodney tapped the note to his lips a couple of times, then tucked it away in his notebook - the important one which held the theories he wasn’t yet ready to share - and sent an e-mail to Sheppard: “Up yours. RMcK.”
~*~*~
The third time Sheppard showed up, Rodney was already at the side of the bed. Even though two data points were insufficient to plot a trend, Rodney wasn’t an idiot. He’d nearly died - again, damn it - and it didn’t take a lot of introspection or empathy to conclude the odds were good that Sheppard would want a long cuddle.
Not that Rodney would ever call it that to Sheppard’s - okay, he would, under certain circumstances - but the point was that Sheppard, for whatever reason, seemed to feel the need to confirm that Rodney was still alive. If he wanted to do that by treating Rodney like a teddy bear, Rodney was all for that, because again, Sheppard put out heat like crazy, and lately, Rodney couldn’t seem to get warm in bed.
In the morning, Sheppard was gone - big surprise - but that wasn't what woke Rodney up. What woke Rodney up was Ronon looming over him and saying, “Get your ass out of bed. Sheppard wants you to start running with me.”
Rodney scrambled to drag his blanket up to his chin, and never mind that he was acting like a Victorian virgin, and said, “The hell? I nearly died yesterday!”
“I’m pretty sure that’s why he wants you to start running. You gonna get up on your own, or do you need help?”
Ronon made a swipe at the blanket and Rodney shrieked even as he shrunk away. “Go. Go away.”
“I’ll be outside. You’ve got two minutes to get dressed before I come back in to help.”
Rodney started moving as soon as the door closed behind Ronon. He might be able to ignore Sheppard, but Ronon? Not so much. And Rodney had absolutely no doubt that Ronon was capable of making him run half-naked through Atlantis if Rodney missed the deadline.
~*~*~
The fourth time Rodney slept with John, it was Rodney who showed up in John’s quarters, because of the two of them, Rodney was more mobile - he’d gotten out of the infirmary the day before John had.
He was fully prepared to argue his way into John’s bed, but John looked at him blearily and simply scooted over to make room. Rodney stripped down to his boxers and climbed in slowly, because hello, still healing from injuries sustained in the act of saving John’s skinny ass. He shifted carefully until he was fully spooned against John’s back then mentally flailed over what to do with his arm. John settled the matter by reaching back to grab it and pull it down around him.
Rodney fell asleep thinking that one of these days, he and John should talk about this, and he woke up thinking that one of these days, it would be nice to get up before John did, because maybe then, they could talk about it. On the other hand, at least there was a note on the pillow: “Thanks for the other day, but you’re not getting out of PT. Meet Lorne in the gym at 1100, or I’ll have Ronon hunt you down. JS.”
When he got to his lab, Rodney sent an e-mail to John: “Asshole. RMcK.” But he met Lorne at 1100 hours, because the first time John had sent Ronon to fetch him for a date in the gym (the morning after the second time they slept together, when Rodney tried to ignore the order to exercise), Ronon hadn’t even bothered to listen Rodney’s reasons (enumerated and with animated bullet points on the PowerPoint presentation). Instead, he’d picked up Rodney and tossed him over his shoulder - like a sack of potatoes - and carried him down to the gym.
It wasn’t an experience Rodney cared to repeat.
Ever.
~*~*~
The fifth time Rodney slept with John, it was a surprise to them both. They were healthy and injury-free, and no one had tried to kill them for ten days. It would have been a full two weeks, but Kavanagh had arrived on the Daedalus eleven days earlier, and some idiot gave him access to one of the electrical subsystems without asking anyone first. The idiot in question would be heading home along with Kavanagh when the Daedalus departed in three days.
Despite that minor blip, Atlantis was humming along, and so were Rodney and John. Yet even though everything was right with his world, Rodney still found himself standing at the side of John’s bed saying, “Move over.”
John frowned in the moonlit gloom. “Why?”
“I can’t sleep.”
“Rodney -”
They really should have talked about it long before this, and Rodney blamed himself for not getting around to it, but - “I can’t sleep. I know you’re okay, and I’m okay, but I can’t sleep. I want - I want -”
He stalled out there, but John, thank god, moved over anyway. Then, while Rodney was making himself comfortable, John asked, “Do we have to talk about this?”
There was a part of Rodney that would have happily skipped out of any discussion at all, but there was another part, the part that wanted to sleep with John on a regular basis, that answered, “Probably.”
John sighed. “Does it have to be now?”
Rodney shifted closer and wrapped his left arm around John. “Maybe not?”
John grunted, and while the tension in his body didn’t disappear all at once, it went away quickly enough to reassure Rodney. They didn’t need to talk about it then or even the next day, he decided. For the moment, it was enough that he could, with little argument and even less justification, get John to make room for him.
The rest could wait until later.
Author: Tara Keezer
Rating: PG
Notes: Pre-slash McKay/Sheppard; 1,365 words.
Summary: The first time Sheppard all but shoved Rodney out of his own bed to make room, Rodney woke up only enough to slur, “The fuck?”
~*~*~
The first time Sheppard all but shoved Rodney out of his own bed to make room, Rodney woke up only enough to slur, “The fuck?”
“Shut up and go back to sleep.” Sheppard proceeded to make himself comfortable in Rodney’s bed without so much as a, “May I?” (Though in Sheppard’s case, it would have been a, “Can I,” because the man had an appalling grasp of English grammar.) Any other time, Rodney would have put up more of a fuss, but he was exhausted from having nearly died earlier in the day. Also, despite the complete lack of anything resembling fat, Sheppard put out a surprising amount of body heat, a fact he absently noted when Sheppard wrapped himself around Rodney.
He did a quick, if sleepy, cost-benefit analysis and decided that the effort of kicking Sheppard out was far outweighed by the benefit of finally being warm. Rodney squirmed irritably, shoved his left foot back and between Sheppard’s shins, then snorted into his arm before falling asleep again.
In the morning, Sheppard was gone, and Rodney felt better than expected, all things considered. He would have asked Sheppard what the hell was going on, but between one thing and another - mostly saving Atlantis from the morons the SGC insisted on saddling them with - Rodney put the question at the bottom of his to-do list and promptly forgot about it.
~*~*~
The second time Sheppard showed up to shove Rodney over to the far side of his bed, he was a lot more gentle than the first time. For one thing, Rodney had a couple of bruised ribs. For another, so did Sheppard.
Rodney thought about objecting, but a vague sense memory of the first time convinced him to move over without bitching. When Sheppard settled in behind Rodney, he carefully reached back to grab Sheppard’s left arm and drag it around him. Rodney fell asleep with Sheppard snoring softly into his neck and Sheppard’s hand clasped over his heart.
In the morning, Sheppard was gone when Rodney woke up, but this time, he left a note: “Get your ass to the gym at 1000 hours. I’m sick and goddamn tired of having to haul you to the gate because you’re out of shape. JS.”
Rodney tapped the note to his lips a couple of times, then tucked it away in his notebook - the important one which held the theories he wasn’t yet ready to share - and sent an e-mail to Sheppard: “Up yours. RMcK.”
~*~*~
The third time Sheppard showed up, Rodney was already at the side of the bed. Even though two data points were insufficient to plot a trend, Rodney wasn’t an idiot. He’d nearly died - again, damn it - and it didn’t take a lot of introspection or empathy to conclude the odds were good that Sheppard would want a long cuddle.
Not that Rodney would ever call it that to Sheppard’s - okay, he would, under certain circumstances - but the point was that Sheppard, for whatever reason, seemed to feel the need to confirm that Rodney was still alive. If he wanted to do that by treating Rodney like a teddy bear, Rodney was all for that, because again, Sheppard put out heat like crazy, and lately, Rodney couldn’t seem to get warm in bed.
In the morning, Sheppard was gone - big surprise - but that wasn't what woke Rodney up. What woke Rodney up was Ronon looming over him and saying, “Get your ass out of bed. Sheppard wants you to start running with me.”
Rodney scrambled to drag his blanket up to his chin, and never mind that he was acting like a Victorian virgin, and said, “The hell? I nearly died yesterday!”
“I’m pretty sure that’s why he wants you to start running. You gonna get up on your own, or do you need help?”
Ronon made a swipe at the blanket and Rodney shrieked even as he shrunk away. “Go. Go away.”
“I’ll be outside. You’ve got two minutes to get dressed before I come back in to help.”
Rodney started moving as soon as the door closed behind Ronon. He might be able to ignore Sheppard, but Ronon? Not so much. And Rodney had absolutely no doubt that Ronon was capable of making him run half-naked through Atlantis if Rodney missed the deadline.
~*~*~
The fourth time Rodney slept with John, it was Rodney who showed up in John’s quarters, because of the two of them, Rodney was more mobile - he’d gotten out of the infirmary the day before John had.
He was fully prepared to argue his way into John’s bed, but John looked at him blearily and simply scooted over to make room. Rodney stripped down to his boxers and climbed in slowly, because hello, still healing from injuries sustained in the act of saving John’s skinny ass. He shifted carefully until he was fully spooned against John’s back then mentally flailed over what to do with his arm. John settled the matter by reaching back to grab it and pull it down around him.
Rodney fell asleep thinking that one of these days, he and John should talk about this, and he woke up thinking that one of these days, it would be nice to get up before John did, because maybe then, they could talk about it. On the other hand, at least there was a note on the pillow: “Thanks for the other day, but you’re not getting out of PT. Meet Lorne in the gym at 1100, or I’ll have Ronon hunt you down. JS.”
When he got to his lab, Rodney sent an e-mail to John: “Asshole. RMcK.” But he met Lorne at 1100 hours, because the first time John had sent Ronon to fetch him for a date in the gym (the morning after the second time they slept together, when Rodney tried to ignore the order to exercise), Ronon hadn’t even bothered to listen Rodney’s reasons (enumerated and with animated bullet points on the PowerPoint presentation). Instead, he’d picked up Rodney and tossed him over his shoulder - like a sack of potatoes - and carried him down to the gym.
It wasn’t an experience Rodney cared to repeat.
Ever.
~*~*~
The fifth time Rodney slept with John, it was a surprise to them both. They were healthy and injury-free, and no one had tried to kill them for ten days. It would have been a full two weeks, but Kavanagh had arrived on the Daedalus eleven days earlier, and some idiot gave him access to one of the electrical subsystems without asking anyone first. The idiot in question would be heading home along with Kavanagh when the Daedalus departed in three days.
Despite that minor blip, Atlantis was humming along, and so were Rodney and John. Yet even though everything was right with his world, Rodney still found himself standing at the side of John’s bed saying, “Move over.”
John frowned in the moonlit gloom. “Why?”
“I can’t sleep.”
“Rodney -”
They really should have talked about it long before this, and Rodney blamed himself for not getting around to it, but - “I can’t sleep. I know you’re okay, and I’m okay, but I can’t sleep. I want - I want -”
He stalled out there, but John, thank god, moved over anyway. Then, while Rodney was making himself comfortable, John asked, “Do we have to talk about this?”
There was a part of Rodney that would have happily skipped out of any discussion at all, but there was another part, the part that wanted to sleep with John on a regular basis, that answered, “Probably.”
John sighed. “Does it have to be now?”
Rodney shifted closer and wrapped his left arm around John. “Maybe not?”
John grunted, and while the tension in his body didn’t disappear all at once, it went away quickly enough to reassure Rodney. They didn’t need to talk about it then or even the next day, he decided. For the moment, it was enough that he could, with little argument and even less justification, get John to make room for him.
The rest could wait until later.