3 + 1 = 2 (John/Rodney, PG)
Title: 3 + 1 = 2
Rating: PG
Word count: ~1,100
Pairings: John/Rodney
Warnings: This is strange, even for me
Summary: Rodney is John's boyfriends.
Notes: The wonderful velocitygrass allowed me to use a typo she made (see summary) as inspiration for crack!fic. Due to me being somewhat down and very impatient, this hasn't been beta-read just yet, so if you spot a mistake, please tell me.
~~~
3 + 1 = 2
John was fully aware that his mother had given him only one first name for a single reason: to piss off his dad. Considering how the man had kept cheating on her and treated her like an object - both of her - John couldn't say that he didn't relate. And really, she'd done him a favour. Two, actually.
The first was the social stigma attached to having only one name, and a plain one to boot. John had never run the risk of being pushed into his father's footsteps. That questionable honour had been reserved for David Patrick: properly named, properly raised, and literally twice the businessman that John could ever hope to be.
The second favour was McKay. His mother had given him three names - probably also to piss off her better halves - and in a world where relationships could become very complicated, very quickly, being just "John" was the only way he could have ever hoped to make it work with Meredith Rodney Ingram McKay.
And they did work. Perfectly.
Rodney was easy enough. Give him RC cars and beer on the pier and a friendship he could believe in, and he'd follow you to the ends of Pegasus.
"Have you seen my white shirt?"
Okay, so he was a bit of a slob.
"On the hanger, in the bathroom."
"Ironed?" Rodney's hopeful smile made his eyes sparkle, and John abandoned wrestling with his tie for long enough to pull him into a kiss.
He could never resist that smile. He suspected that was why Rodney was around him the most. That, and to make up for a mostly-missed childhood.
"Yeah."
Like he would have let McKay give his speech in a wrinkled shirt. A lot of scientists had published after the declassification, but the Atlantis papers were among the most spectacular, and McKay's were at the top of the heap. Naturally. So many universities, committees and panels were clamouringfor the illustrious Dr. McKay, John was beginning to lose track when they were going where to talk about what to whom.
Which reminded him...
"Hey Mer, do you have your notes?"
Meredith rolled his eyes as he pulled on the shirt. Starting on the buttons, he said, "Of course I have them. They're right here."
He patted the right pocket of his black suit pants. A look of consternation flitted across his face, and he patted the left.
"Uh..." A puzzled glance toward the desk showed it neat and empty of any note-shaped items.
John smirked. While Rodney simply didn't care if his socks spent three months marinating under their bed, Mer's mind was far too occupied with solving the Great Mysteries of the Universe (capital letters required) to remember where he'd left his radio, or his fleece jacket, or - case in point - his notes.
Unlike Ingram.
"They're in the jacket, left inside pocket. Moron." Ingram remembered everything about almost everything, as long as it wasn't people-related. If you wanted to know the average temperature inside a super volcano? Ingram would know. If you needed someone to explicate the fascinating world of data compression algorithms, Ingram would do so with footnotes in Ancient, Wraith and Russian.
On the downside, Ingram was kind of a giant dick.
"Oh, shut up. At least I know the name of our host," Mer snapped, closing the last buttons.
"I do not bother with the names of lesser minds," Ingram said loftily. This time, John and Mer both rolled their eyes.
It had been difficult, in the beginning, to tell Ingram and Mer apart. They both tended more toward the cerebral than Rodney - not that Rodney wasn't brilliant - and unless the technobabble came generously peppered with insults, it could be spouted by either of them. Sometimes, they tag-teamed each other so well they really did seem like one personality, but John had always been a fast learner. Once he knew what to listen for, Ingram's scorn for all and sundry didn't sound a bit like Mer's casual arrogance.
"There was either a compliment in there, or you've forgotten my name. Again," John said, who still wasn't quite over how long it had taken for Ingram to stop calling him "Major."
Ingram flushed.
"You can interpret that however you like," he said stiffly. "John."
John grinned at him, causing the colour on Ingram's cheeks to deepen. He knew what would come next and went willingly enough when he found himself dragged into another kiss. Ingram's technique was precise as ever: exactly this much tongue, with a minimal exchange of saliva and carefully choreographed movements. It was easy to tell the exact moment Rodney took over, mouth opening wider as he sucked on John's tongue.
Ingram had almost been a deal breaker; still was, sometimes. He was hard to like, let alone anything more. He was rude, stand-offish and self-involved. Where Mer was arrogant and Rodney simply bad with people in general, Ingram could be downright petty to the point where he blew up five sixths of a solar system rather than admit he couldn't get something to work. John had taken a long time to really get used to him, and even then Ingram had persisted in nursing his hopeless crush on Samantha Patricia Carter, neither of whom could stand him.
Thing was, if not for Rodney, John didn't think he would have made it work with either of the other two, or even wanted to. He'd come to like them well enough, but Rodney had been the first one he'd really wanted for himself. Ingram still wasn't quite over that.
Rodney pulled back, ending a kiss that was as sloppy as it was wet, his cheeks flushed for a whole different reason now.
"So," he said, a little breathless, "grab my jacket and go?"
John waved the ends of his tie at him, and stood still as Mer's deft fingers made short work of the knot.
"I'm ready if you are." John tilted his head to the door, Rodney grabbed his jacket, and off they were to another week of fun and lectures. Rodney would get on every waiter's last nerve with his citrus paranoia, Mer would casually inform his peers why they were wrong, wrong, wrong, and Ingram would alienate everyone who wasn't John.
And John? John would count himself lucky that he'd scored all three of McKay.
And thank his mom that he was just "John."
.
Rating: PG
Word count: ~1,100
Pairings: John/Rodney
Warnings: This is strange, even for me
Summary: Rodney is John's boyfriends.
Notes: The wonderful velocitygrass allowed me to use a typo she made (see summary) as inspiration for crack!fic. Due to me being somewhat down and very impatient, this hasn't been beta-read just yet, so if you spot a mistake, please tell me.
~~~
3 + 1 = 2
John was fully aware that his mother had given him only one first name for a single reason: to piss off his dad. Considering how the man had kept cheating on her and treated her like an object - both of her - John couldn't say that he didn't relate. And really, she'd done him a favour. Two, actually.
The first was the social stigma attached to having only one name, and a plain one to boot. John had never run the risk of being pushed into his father's footsteps. That questionable honour had been reserved for David Patrick: properly named, properly raised, and literally twice the businessman that John could ever hope to be.
The second favour was McKay. His mother had given him three names - probably also to piss off her better halves - and in a world where relationships could become very complicated, very quickly, being just "John" was the only way he could have ever hoped to make it work with Meredith Rodney Ingram McKay.
And they did work. Perfectly.
Rodney was easy enough. Give him RC cars and beer on the pier and a friendship he could believe in, and he'd follow you to the ends of Pegasus.
"Have you seen my white shirt?"
Okay, so he was a bit of a slob.
"On the hanger, in the bathroom."
"Ironed?" Rodney's hopeful smile made his eyes sparkle, and John abandoned wrestling with his tie for long enough to pull him into a kiss.
He could never resist that smile. He suspected that was why Rodney was around him the most. That, and to make up for a mostly-missed childhood.
"Yeah."
Like he would have let McKay give his speech in a wrinkled shirt. A lot of scientists had published after the declassification, but the Atlantis papers were among the most spectacular, and McKay's were at the top of the heap. Naturally. So many universities, committees and panels were clamouringfor the illustrious Dr. McKay, John was beginning to lose track when they were going where to talk about what to whom.
Which reminded him...
"Hey Mer, do you have your notes?"
Meredith rolled his eyes as he pulled on the shirt. Starting on the buttons, he said, "Of course I have them. They're right here."
He patted the right pocket of his black suit pants. A look of consternation flitted across his face, and he patted the left.
"Uh..." A puzzled glance toward the desk showed it neat and empty of any note-shaped items.
John smirked. While Rodney simply didn't care if his socks spent three months marinating under their bed, Mer's mind was far too occupied with solving the Great Mysteries of the Universe (capital letters required) to remember where he'd left his radio, or his fleece jacket, or - case in point - his notes.
Unlike Ingram.
"They're in the jacket, left inside pocket. Moron." Ingram remembered everything about almost everything, as long as it wasn't people-related. If you wanted to know the average temperature inside a super volcano? Ingram would know. If you needed someone to explicate the fascinating world of data compression algorithms, Ingram would do so with footnotes in Ancient, Wraith and Russian.
On the downside, Ingram was kind of a giant dick.
"Oh, shut up. At least I know the name of our host," Mer snapped, closing the last buttons.
"I do not bother with the names of lesser minds," Ingram said loftily. This time, John and Mer both rolled their eyes.
It had been difficult, in the beginning, to tell Ingram and Mer apart. They both tended more toward the cerebral than Rodney - not that Rodney wasn't brilliant - and unless the technobabble came generously peppered with insults, it could be spouted by either of them. Sometimes, they tag-teamed each other so well they really did seem like one personality, but John had always been a fast learner. Once he knew what to listen for, Ingram's scorn for all and sundry didn't sound a bit like Mer's casual arrogance.
"There was either a compliment in there, or you've forgotten my name. Again," John said, who still wasn't quite over how long it had taken for Ingram to stop calling him "Major."
Ingram flushed.
"You can interpret that however you like," he said stiffly. "John."
John grinned at him, causing the colour on Ingram's cheeks to deepen. He knew what would come next and went willingly enough when he found himself dragged into another kiss. Ingram's technique was precise as ever: exactly this much tongue, with a minimal exchange of saliva and carefully choreographed movements. It was easy to tell the exact moment Rodney took over, mouth opening wider as he sucked on John's tongue.
Ingram had almost been a deal breaker; still was, sometimes. He was hard to like, let alone anything more. He was rude, stand-offish and self-involved. Where Mer was arrogant and Rodney simply bad with people in general, Ingram could be downright petty to the point where he blew up five sixths of a solar system rather than admit he couldn't get something to work. John had taken a long time to really get used to him, and even then Ingram had persisted in nursing his hopeless crush on Samantha Patricia Carter, neither of whom could stand him.
Thing was, if not for Rodney, John didn't think he would have made it work with either of the other two, or even wanted to. He'd come to like them well enough, but Rodney had been the first one he'd really wanted for himself. Ingram still wasn't quite over that.
Rodney pulled back, ending a kiss that was as sloppy as it was wet, his cheeks flushed for a whole different reason now.
"So," he said, a little breathless, "grab my jacket and go?"
John waved the ends of his tie at him, and stood still as Mer's deft fingers made short work of the knot.
"I'm ready if you are." John tilted his head to the door, Rodney grabbed his jacket, and off they were to another week of fun and lectures. Rodney would get on every waiter's last nerve with his citrus paranoia, Mer would casually inform his peers why they were wrong, wrong, wrong, and Ingram would alienate everyone who wasn't John.
And John? John would count himself lucky that he'd scored all three of McKay.
And thank his mom that he was just "John."
.