The Bribe - Part Seventeen
Title: The Bribe - Part Seventeen
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis AU
Genre: Slavefic
Pairing: John Sheppard/ Rodney McKay
Author: Fenchurch
Herewith part seventeen and just about posted this week-end (give or take 20 minutes!). As usual, enormous thanks to my wonderful Goddess47 for her beta work and for agreeing with me when I ranted about Britishisms. Extra points if you can spot the moment where Carson's speech is most definitely British and NOT American!
***
The Bribe - Part Seventeen
Over the next few days the two men packed and re-packed all the items that they would be taking with them. John gazed longingly at his guitar a few times but it was clear that there was no way he was going to be able to take it.
Rodney spent hours compressing all the films and series he could to fit onto two flash drives, including that damned ‘Hail Mary’ tape that his Master said was ‘essential’. Rodney had opined that it was simply so that he could have an effective punishment for his poor slave and his Master had agreed that that was an added bonus.
John did as much surfing as he could, but he didn’t force Rodney out with him again. Rodney had explained how afraid he was of sunburn and skin cancer and John had laughed, but allowed it, insisting only that the slave come and fetch him when he needed to leave the water and change.
Neither had they repeated the shower experience. John allowed Rodney to be there to dry him and even to rub lotion into his shoulders, but he hadn’t invited Rodney into the shower with him again, to Rodney’s great disappointment.
Apart from a trip out to pick up the finalized documents from the Lawyer and a couple of short food shopping excursions, they didn’t need to leave the apartment again until the moment when they loaded their packs into the car and headed back to the airport. John sighed with regret at leaving the beach and the comfort of home, but he had to report back to work on Monday morning and they would need Sunday evening to fetch equipment and settle back into Military Quarters.
The flight back was uneventful. Once again Rodney had a seat to himself and was served the same meals as his Master. His Master seemed more nervous this time, but he said that it was because he hated being flown, especially by commercial pilots who didn’t understand real flying.
Denver International was heaving with people this time and Rodney was glad he had thought to wear his leash. He walked very closely behind his Master and made sure that there were no more incidents with children. A Marine Sergeant was waiting for them and he accompanied them to a rather civilian-looking Dodge, forcing Rodney to climb into the trunk with the luggage. When his Master complained about this, the Sergeant just shrugged and claimed that it was ‘orders, Sir’.
Rodney had really enjoyed his vacation. In fact he couldn’t remember the last time he had enjoyed his downtime, but he was still happy to be back in the familiar surroundings of a Military and Scientific base. He felt odd walking around after his Master in jeans, but no one looked at him and he just followed all the way to the Commissary, where they collected their new uniforms and kit.
Rodney was to be dressed in Science colors, apparently. His jacket was beige with blue panels and his pants were a matching shade of beige, while underneath there was a series of t-shirts with long and short sleeves in blue. He rather envied his Master’s dark gray uniform, but this was what he was given and anything was better than that awful orange.
The worst part of it was the nationality patch.
“It’s American!” he protested as it was handed to him. The patch was made up of a small American flag and the embroidered words ‘Maj. J Sheppard’ and was to be worn on his left sleeve when on base.
“Of course!” the Sergeant doling out the clothes answered snippily. “You belong to an American.”
“But I’m Canadian!”
“Not any more. Now get out of here before I report you!” the Sergeant dismissed him.
Rodney was surprised at how sad he felt at being re-categorized out of his own nationality. It hadn’t been a problem before as he had belonged to the International Committee and they didn’t acknowledge that any slave had a nationality. Now, however, Rodney found himself fingering the little patch and imagining what it would have looked like had it been the Maple Leaf flag of any other Canadian. There wouldn’t have been any writing on the thing either.
“It’s not all that bad being American!” his Master teased as they unpacked and changed. “Some of the best people are Yanks!”
“It’s not really that that’s bothering me, Master,” Rodney tried to explain. “It’s just… it’s just one more thing that they’ve taken away from me.”
They went to eat in the Mess where Rodney surprised his Master by kneeling at his side.
“It’s not allowed, Master,” Rodney explained patiently when his Master invited him to sit on a chair. “The Military are real sticklers for protocol and the Scientists just love it.”
“I’ll have to commandeer a cushion or something,” his Master huffed. “It must be killing your knees.”
Rodney just beamed at his Master and accepted the plate of food that he himself had been allowed to choose. His life now was much better than before the Major took him on, but little things like being able to actually choose what he wanted to eat, just made him want to bow to the ground and do something embarrassing like kiss his Master’s boots. He refrained from any such gesture, which he suspected would embarrass the Major and the last thing he wanted to do was make his savior uncomfortable, and began to eat.
John took Rodney back to the room they were to share and then left in search of something for Rodney to sleep on that wasn’t just plain floor. While he was gone, they had a visitor.
“Carson!” Rodney yelled enthusiastically and was swept up into a hug by his dear friend.
“Bloody hell, Rodney! Is that a tan?” Carson asked peering at the slave and inspecting him thoroughly.
“I got dragged to the beach!” Rodney grinned, pulling the doctor into the little room and pushing him down onto the chair. “You’ll need to check my skin where I got burned.”
“I’m sure it’s fine!” Carson’s dimples showed. “What’s he like? Has he treated you well?”
“Oh God, yes! He treats me so well I’m getting spoiled! Look at this!” Rodney pointed at the classic-looking collar. “It’s real gold!”
“I’m glad,” Carson beamed.
“And he let me cook for him, and watch TV and he’s off now looking for something for me to sleep on!” Rodney enthused, even though he suspected he sounded like a fourteen year old girl. “I’ve got clothes and movies to watch and real shampoo!”
“Did he punish you?” Carson asked, brow furrowing.
“No! Well, he did, but he didn’t hurt me. He made me wear a gag and sit through a whole goddamned American football match, but he didn’t beat me or anything.”
Carson couldn’t help laughing at the image, which made Rodney laugh in return, and that was how John found them.
It took John a few moments to work out that the surge of heat that ran through him was not anger, so much as jealousy. He wanted to be the one to make Rodney laugh like that, but he forced himself to think rationally and to allow that Carson Beckett had known his slave much longer and knew much more about Rodney’s unique character. Beckett’s next words helped.
“Major!” Carson beamed, standing up and holding his hand out. “Rodney was tellin’ me about your punishments!”
John smiled back and shook the doctor’s hand. “I don’t like inflicting pain unless I have to. Rodney didn’t really do anything terribly wrong, but he keeps speaking out in public.”
“Och, well, that’s Rodney. He’s never been one to keep silent. Ye both look well.”
“We are well. Rodney’s been a welcome companion.”
“Aye, well, he can be very entertaining at times… times when he’s not the most irritating human on the planet.”
“I’m still here you know!” Rodney protested and Carson glanced worriedly at the Major, who just grinned and ruffled Rodney’s hair.
“Beer? Before it becomes Black Market currency?” John offered.
“No, thank you Major. I have to get back to the Infirmary. SG4 are due back in the next half hour and you never know what they’ve got up to. I just wanted to check up on you. Good night!” Carson hugged Rodney briefly and shook John's hand on his way out.
“He’s a good friend,” John opined when the door shut behind the doctor.
“Yes Master, the best. He was the only person who spoke up for me at my trial and the only person who treats me like a human being… except you, Master.” John was blinded by the steady blue gaze that was directed at him and powered by deep emotions such as pride, joy and devotion. The jealousy he had felt earlier was washed away by his slave’s loyalty and he found himself grinning back and pulling his slave into a hug.
“You are a human being, Rodney, and a very precious one too,” John heard himself say.
The best that John had been able to find for Rodney’s bed was a sponge mat that would normally have been used out in the field. Rodney was happy enough as anything was better than hard floor, and anyway, he had a pillow and a blanket. They both slept easily and John woke first in the morning and got up ready for his jog.
***
Rodney helped his Master into his clothes after his post-jog shower and then held out the leash.
“Do you really think that’s necessary?” his Master asked with distaste, even though he took the end.
“I do,” Rodney told him with a shrug. “The staff here don’t know who I am or who I belong to.”
“You’ve got my name on your arm,” the Major reminded him.
“Yes, but they don’t know if you’re the kind of Master who allows me to roam freely or not. There will be some here from Antarctica too, and they’re used to seeing me being dragged everywhere. It’s… it’s safer for me,” he added shyly, embarrassed to be inconveniencing his Master.
“You’re the expert, Rodney. You said I could get some kind of pass?”
“Yes Master, but I’ve no idea where from,” Rodney shrugged again.
“Well, breakfast first, then we’ll worry about that kind of thing. We need to be in Colonel Sumner’s office by 0900.”
“Oh my God! Is that you McKay?” A strident American voice shouted out and John felt Rodney shift a little closer into his Master’s legs.
“Who’s McKay?” John asked suspiciously. “And who are you?”
An Atlantis Expedition scientist stood before them, grinning, but there was something off about the expression, John decided. The dark haired man looked… gleeful.
“Your slave… he was once ‘The Great Dr Rodney McKay’! Look at him now!” the scientist laughed.
“I suggest that you move along and get your own breakfast before they run out,” John managed to dial down the aggressive tone that was fighting to get out. The scientist looked suitably cowed and moved along quickly, but John could see that he was already laughing about the incident with his friends in the queue.
John checked on Rodney, who seemed to be eating fairly happily.
“Who was the jerk?” John asked quietly so that only Rodney could hear.
“Dr Brendan Gall. Thinks he’s God’s gift to Physics even though I proved him wrong on so many occasions. He’s just a jerk, Master.”
“Do you… get that a lot?” John asked carefully.
“Yeah,” Rodney was clearly aiming for a casual, nonchalant tone. “I… I was a great Physicist and a genius… I still am, but back then I was able to tell people what I thought of them and their work. I was Ga… Dr Gall’s boss back at Area 51 and… well, my management style didn’t please some people… well, no one liked it really. I just tell people the truth. People have always told me the truth about myself and my work and I just believe in being honest. A lot of people think that I deserved this for my personality alone.” Rodney pointed at his collar. His uniform was designed to make sure that the collar was clearly displayed, presumably to reinforce his status, or lack thereof.
John ruffled his slave’s hair. “You can tell me if anyone makes your life difficult. I can’t guarantee that I can do anything about it, but I can listen at least.”
Rodney smiled up at him and finished his breakfast. John was amused by his slave’s healthy and enthusiastic appetite and was pleased to see the clean plate. He took the plate, placed it on the tray with his own dirty crockery and then handed the whole thing to his slave to be cleaned away.
He stared around at the full Mess while he waited, but then was distracted by a crash and angry shouts. Joining everyone else who was gathered, he was dismayed to see that it was his own Rodney who was scrabbling to pick up the broken dishes while everyone, in the line and gathered around, watched and laughed.
A quick survey told him that he was the highest ranking officer here, so he stepped forward and asked, in his best Officer’s voice.
“What’s going on here?”
“Just a clumsy slave,” a scientist with a ridiculously scraggy dark ponytail sniggered.
“And manners don’t apply to slaves?” John challenged. “In my book, if someone trips, then manners demand that you help the fallen person. Good people don’t just stand around and laugh.”
John quickly bent down and picked up some stray bits of bowl, then he pulled at Rodney’s elbow and managed to guide him to his knees. For some reason Rodney refused to stand.
“You ok?”
“Yes, thank you Master. I was just clumsy and I tripped over someone’s foot.”
“You’re the lousiest liar I’ve ever met,” John whispered to his slave, taking in the red face, the shifty eyes and the hint of anger in the humble words. The Major then turned to two Airmen and pointed. “Airmen are gentlemen and show all the other Military grunts how it’s done!”
The Airmen exchanged amused glances and then bent to pick up the last of the debris, while John pulled Rodney to his feet. John handed the tray to one of the Airmen.
“If you could, Boys, I need to report to the Chief Marine five minutes ago,” John grinned.
“No problem, Sir,” one of the ‘Boys’ gave a tiny wave instead of a salute and the other had already disappeared. “Do you need directions?”
John nodded his thanks, "I could find it eventually but you'd be doing me a good deed if you'd show me the fastest route."
He grasped Rodney’s leash. They had a Colonel to meet and John was pretty sure that punctuality was essential. In less than four minutes he needed to be smart and ready in front of the only man he would have to call ‘Sir’ on the expedition and his track record in impressing COs was… less than stellar. He swallowed, gripped the leash tightly and followed the Airman to his doom.
Part Eighteen
(I can't believe I've written an eighteen part story! Eeep!)
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis AU
Genre: Slavefic
Pairing: John Sheppard/ Rodney McKay
Author: Fenchurch
Herewith part seventeen and just about posted this week-end (give or take 20 minutes!). As usual, enormous thanks to my wonderful Goddess47 for her beta work and for agreeing with me when I ranted about Britishisms. Extra points if you can spot the moment where Carson's speech is most definitely British and NOT American!
***
The Bribe - Part Seventeen
Over the next few days the two men packed and re-packed all the items that they would be taking with them. John gazed longingly at his guitar a few times but it was clear that there was no way he was going to be able to take it.
Rodney spent hours compressing all the films and series he could to fit onto two flash drives, including that damned ‘Hail Mary’ tape that his Master said was ‘essential’. Rodney had opined that it was simply so that he could have an effective punishment for his poor slave and his Master had agreed that that was an added bonus.
John did as much surfing as he could, but he didn’t force Rodney out with him again. Rodney had explained how afraid he was of sunburn and skin cancer and John had laughed, but allowed it, insisting only that the slave come and fetch him when he needed to leave the water and change.
Neither had they repeated the shower experience. John allowed Rodney to be there to dry him and even to rub lotion into his shoulders, but he hadn’t invited Rodney into the shower with him again, to Rodney’s great disappointment.
Apart from a trip out to pick up the finalized documents from the Lawyer and a couple of short food shopping excursions, they didn’t need to leave the apartment again until the moment when they loaded their packs into the car and headed back to the airport. John sighed with regret at leaving the beach and the comfort of home, but he had to report back to work on Monday morning and they would need Sunday evening to fetch equipment and settle back into Military Quarters.
The flight back was uneventful. Once again Rodney had a seat to himself and was served the same meals as his Master. His Master seemed more nervous this time, but he said that it was because he hated being flown, especially by commercial pilots who didn’t understand real flying.
Denver International was heaving with people this time and Rodney was glad he had thought to wear his leash. He walked very closely behind his Master and made sure that there were no more incidents with children. A Marine Sergeant was waiting for them and he accompanied them to a rather civilian-looking Dodge, forcing Rodney to climb into the trunk with the luggage. When his Master complained about this, the Sergeant just shrugged and claimed that it was ‘orders, Sir’.
Rodney had really enjoyed his vacation. In fact he couldn’t remember the last time he had enjoyed his downtime, but he was still happy to be back in the familiar surroundings of a Military and Scientific base. He felt odd walking around after his Master in jeans, but no one looked at him and he just followed all the way to the Commissary, where they collected their new uniforms and kit.
Rodney was to be dressed in Science colors, apparently. His jacket was beige with blue panels and his pants were a matching shade of beige, while underneath there was a series of t-shirts with long and short sleeves in blue. He rather envied his Master’s dark gray uniform, but this was what he was given and anything was better than that awful orange.
The worst part of it was the nationality patch.
“It’s American!” he protested as it was handed to him. The patch was made up of a small American flag and the embroidered words ‘Maj. J Sheppard’ and was to be worn on his left sleeve when on base.
“Of course!” the Sergeant doling out the clothes answered snippily. “You belong to an American.”
“But I’m Canadian!”
“Not any more. Now get out of here before I report you!” the Sergeant dismissed him.
Rodney was surprised at how sad he felt at being re-categorized out of his own nationality. It hadn’t been a problem before as he had belonged to the International Committee and they didn’t acknowledge that any slave had a nationality. Now, however, Rodney found himself fingering the little patch and imagining what it would have looked like had it been the Maple Leaf flag of any other Canadian. There wouldn’t have been any writing on the thing either.
“It’s not all that bad being American!” his Master teased as they unpacked and changed. “Some of the best people are Yanks!”
“It’s not really that that’s bothering me, Master,” Rodney tried to explain. “It’s just… it’s just one more thing that they’ve taken away from me.”
They went to eat in the Mess where Rodney surprised his Master by kneeling at his side.
“It’s not allowed, Master,” Rodney explained patiently when his Master invited him to sit on a chair. “The Military are real sticklers for protocol and the Scientists just love it.”
“I’ll have to commandeer a cushion or something,” his Master huffed. “It must be killing your knees.”
Rodney just beamed at his Master and accepted the plate of food that he himself had been allowed to choose. His life now was much better than before the Major took him on, but little things like being able to actually choose what he wanted to eat, just made him want to bow to the ground and do something embarrassing like kiss his Master’s boots. He refrained from any such gesture, which he suspected would embarrass the Major and the last thing he wanted to do was make his savior uncomfortable, and began to eat.
John took Rodney back to the room they were to share and then left in search of something for Rodney to sleep on that wasn’t just plain floor. While he was gone, they had a visitor.
“Carson!” Rodney yelled enthusiastically and was swept up into a hug by his dear friend.
“Bloody hell, Rodney! Is that a tan?” Carson asked peering at the slave and inspecting him thoroughly.
“I got dragged to the beach!” Rodney grinned, pulling the doctor into the little room and pushing him down onto the chair. “You’ll need to check my skin where I got burned.”
“I’m sure it’s fine!” Carson’s dimples showed. “What’s he like? Has he treated you well?”
“Oh God, yes! He treats me so well I’m getting spoiled! Look at this!” Rodney pointed at the classic-looking collar. “It’s real gold!”
“I’m glad,” Carson beamed.
“And he let me cook for him, and watch TV and he’s off now looking for something for me to sleep on!” Rodney enthused, even though he suspected he sounded like a fourteen year old girl. “I’ve got clothes and movies to watch and real shampoo!”
“Did he punish you?” Carson asked, brow furrowing.
“No! Well, he did, but he didn’t hurt me. He made me wear a gag and sit through a whole goddamned American football match, but he didn’t beat me or anything.”
Carson couldn’t help laughing at the image, which made Rodney laugh in return, and that was how John found them.
It took John a few moments to work out that the surge of heat that ran through him was not anger, so much as jealousy. He wanted to be the one to make Rodney laugh like that, but he forced himself to think rationally and to allow that Carson Beckett had known his slave much longer and knew much more about Rodney’s unique character. Beckett’s next words helped.
“Major!” Carson beamed, standing up and holding his hand out. “Rodney was tellin’ me about your punishments!”
John smiled back and shook the doctor’s hand. “I don’t like inflicting pain unless I have to. Rodney didn’t really do anything terribly wrong, but he keeps speaking out in public.”
“Och, well, that’s Rodney. He’s never been one to keep silent. Ye both look well.”
“We are well. Rodney’s been a welcome companion.”
“Aye, well, he can be very entertaining at times… times when he’s not the most irritating human on the planet.”
“I’m still here you know!” Rodney protested and Carson glanced worriedly at the Major, who just grinned and ruffled Rodney’s hair.
“Beer? Before it becomes Black Market currency?” John offered.
“No, thank you Major. I have to get back to the Infirmary. SG4 are due back in the next half hour and you never know what they’ve got up to. I just wanted to check up on you. Good night!” Carson hugged Rodney briefly and shook John's hand on his way out.
“He’s a good friend,” John opined when the door shut behind the doctor.
“Yes Master, the best. He was the only person who spoke up for me at my trial and the only person who treats me like a human being… except you, Master.” John was blinded by the steady blue gaze that was directed at him and powered by deep emotions such as pride, joy and devotion. The jealousy he had felt earlier was washed away by his slave’s loyalty and he found himself grinning back and pulling his slave into a hug.
“You are a human being, Rodney, and a very precious one too,” John heard himself say.
The best that John had been able to find for Rodney’s bed was a sponge mat that would normally have been used out in the field. Rodney was happy enough as anything was better than hard floor, and anyway, he had a pillow and a blanket. They both slept easily and John woke first in the morning and got up ready for his jog.
***
Rodney helped his Master into his clothes after his post-jog shower and then held out the leash.
“Do you really think that’s necessary?” his Master asked with distaste, even though he took the end.
“I do,” Rodney told him with a shrug. “The staff here don’t know who I am or who I belong to.”
“You’ve got my name on your arm,” the Major reminded him.
“Yes, but they don’t know if you’re the kind of Master who allows me to roam freely or not. There will be some here from Antarctica too, and they’re used to seeing me being dragged everywhere. It’s… it’s safer for me,” he added shyly, embarrassed to be inconveniencing his Master.
“You’re the expert, Rodney. You said I could get some kind of pass?”
“Yes Master, but I’ve no idea where from,” Rodney shrugged again.
“Well, breakfast first, then we’ll worry about that kind of thing. We need to be in Colonel Sumner’s office by 0900.”
“Oh my God! Is that you McKay?” A strident American voice shouted out and John felt Rodney shift a little closer into his Master’s legs.
“Who’s McKay?” John asked suspiciously. “And who are you?”
An Atlantis Expedition scientist stood before them, grinning, but there was something off about the expression, John decided. The dark haired man looked… gleeful.
“Your slave… he was once ‘The Great Dr Rodney McKay’! Look at him now!” the scientist laughed.
“I suggest that you move along and get your own breakfast before they run out,” John managed to dial down the aggressive tone that was fighting to get out. The scientist looked suitably cowed and moved along quickly, but John could see that he was already laughing about the incident with his friends in the queue.
John checked on Rodney, who seemed to be eating fairly happily.
“Who was the jerk?” John asked quietly so that only Rodney could hear.
“Dr Brendan Gall. Thinks he’s God’s gift to Physics even though I proved him wrong on so many occasions. He’s just a jerk, Master.”
“Do you… get that a lot?” John asked carefully.
“Yeah,” Rodney was clearly aiming for a casual, nonchalant tone. “I… I was a great Physicist and a genius… I still am, but back then I was able to tell people what I thought of them and their work. I was Ga… Dr Gall’s boss back at Area 51 and… well, my management style didn’t please some people… well, no one liked it really. I just tell people the truth. People have always told me the truth about myself and my work and I just believe in being honest. A lot of people think that I deserved this for my personality alone.” Rodney pointed at his collar. His uniform was designed to make sure that the collar was clearly displayed, presumably to reinforce his status, or lack thereof.
John ruffled his slave’s hair. “You can tell me if anyone makes your life difficult. I can’t guarantee that I can do anything about it, but I can listen at least.”
Rodney smiled up at him and finished his breakfast. John was amused by his slave’s healthy and enthusiastic appetite and was pleased to see the clean plate. He took the plate, placed it on the tray with his own dirty crockery and then handed the whole thing to his slave to be cleaned away.
He stared around at the full Mess while he waited, but then was distracted by a crash and angry shouts. Joining everyone else who was gathered, he was dismayed to see that it was his own Rodney who was scrabbling to pick up the broken dishes while everyone, in the line and gathered around, watched and laughed.
A quick survey told him that he was the highest ranking officer here, so he stepped forward and asked, in his best Officer’s voice.
“What’s going on here?”
“Just a clumsy slave,” a scientist with a ridiculously scraggy dark ponytail sniggered.
“And manners don’t apply to slaves?” John challenged. “In my book, if someone trips, then manners demand that you help the fallen person. Good people don’t just stand around and laugh.”
John quickly bent down and picked up some stray bits of bowl, then he pulled at Rodney’s elbow and managed to guide him to his knees. For some reason Rodney refused to stand.
“You ok?”
“Yes, thank you Master. I was just clumsy and I tripped over someone’s foot.”
“You’re the lousiest liar I’ve ever met,” John whispered to his slave, taking in the red face, the shifty eyes and the hint of anger in the humble words. The Major then turned to two Airmen and pointed. “Airmen are gentlemen and show all the other Military grunts how it’s done!”
The Airmen exchanged amused glances and then bent to pick up the last of the debris, while John pulled Rodney to his feet. John handed the tray to one of the Airmen.
“If you could, Boys, I need to report to the Chief Marine five minutes ago,” John grinned.
“No problem, Sir,” one of the ‘Boys’ gave a tiny wave instead of a salute and the other had already disappeared. “Do you need directions?”
John nodded his thanks, "I could find it eventually but you'd be doing me a good deed if you'd show me the fastest route."
He grasped Rodney’s leash. They had a Colonel to meet and John was pretty sure that punctuality was essential. In less than four minutes he needed to be smart and ready in front of the only man he would have to call ‘Sir’ on the expedition and his track record in impressing COs was… less than stellar. He swallowed, gripped the leash tightly and followed the Airman to his doom.
Part Eighteen
(I can't believe I've written an eighteen part story! Eeep!)