[Fic] Natural Progression (SGA, John/Rodney)
My God - Rodney McKay just wouldn't shut up in my head and then he drove me to this! (It's really quite annoying.) Written in about three hours - unbeta'd and most likely a mess, so comments/critique will be most welcome.
Natural Progression | Sheppard/McKay | R (for strong language) | wc 2, 291 | Written for challenge #78 finally for mcsheplets
McKay would never claim to be psychic but when Sheppard stepped through the gate, didn’t even meet McKay ’s eyes, continued right past him - not even giving him a nod of acknowledgment that he saw McKay standing right there, right in his path, where Sheppard had to sidestep him to keep going on his way - right then was when McKay got this sinking feeling in his stomach like the world just dropped beneath his feet and he was left floundering, arms and hands failing to hold onto something, yet catching nothing but darkness and silence.
~*~
But, by the next day, McKay completely forgot about the sick feeling he had the moment Sheppard got back from his mission with Lorne’s team. It was just that it was an alien feeling and McKay couldn’t figure out where it came from, so it wasn’t worth examining at that juncture. It wasn’t as though the mission had been a bust or anyone had been shot at or any of the hundred things that went wrong on a daily basis happened. It was actually a relatively boring visit to check out a planet that the Wraith had been rumored to have culled recently.
McKay would’ve happily inhabited this state of blissful ignorance if not for the fact that out of nowhere everything between him and Sheppard had changed.
And he was left floundering once again, with not even a clue to figure out where he had gone wrong. (He hadn’t blown up a solar system recently and that was the only thing that McKay thought Sheppard would be so mad at him to go without days of seeking him out or talking to him.)
~*~
Teyla and Ronon caught on quick that there was something wrong. Teyla, ever the diplomat, subtly tried to find out what was wrong but she might as well have been trying to get a wall to talk to her about its feelings. That’s when she turned her inquisitive eyebrows on McKay, but he didn’t know anything (and wasn’t that a shocker? he happened to know *everything* so why was this situation any different?) so he just shrugged and went back to eating his pudding.
He wasn’t so dense that he couldn’t figure out Sheppard was giving him the cold shoulder.
~*~
McKay might’ve stayed in the dark for who knew how long (he certainly wasn’t going to talk to Sheppard - that would’ve involved talking about…feelings and all that barmy, feely-touchy crap McKay didn’t want to touch with a ten-foot pole even on his best day) if not for randomly walking by Sheppard banging his head against the wall one morning. It was clear that Sheppard had just come back from his run, his hair sweaty and plastered to his forehead, his dark shorts revealing the pale, hairy legs and his white cotton t-shirt hanging loosely around his frame.
McKay made sure no one was around before he glanced appreciatively at Sheppard’s backside (what? it was the black shorts, honestly! The eyes couldn’t help themselves but to stray to that particular area and check out the firm, globular butt cheeks the shorts were covering up).
McKay must’ve sighed or something because Sheppard’s shoulders tensed and he turned around slowly.
McKay smiled self-consciously. “Was there a particular reason you were banging your head against the wall?” He wouldn’t say Sheppard was glaring at him, per se, but he didn’t look like he was happy to see him either. (Which pained McKay more than he’d ever say, even under pain of torture.)
“No.” Sheppard gripped his hips with his hands, his posture relaying anything but that he was relaxed and comfortable. He also couldn’t seem to look McKay in the eyes, which sent little bells of alarm ringing in McKay’s head.
“Did I do something bad?” OK, he was breaking his own rule of not talking about his feelings but this was getting ridiculous. He totally screwed up the best friendship he ever had in his entire life (and never mind the fact that he wanted it to be so much more than friendship, but this was Sheppard - the fucking Colonel of the Atlantis expedition and with a reputation to lose if McKay ever professed his lurid fantasies of bending the Colonel over his desk and fucking him until they both dropped to their knees) and it’d be really fucking courteous of Sheppard if he told McKay what he did that was so wrong so that McKay could maybe not do it again.
Sheppard didn’t say anything. Of course, he didn’t have to - his silence and stance said everything for him.
“Oh god, I did do something wrong.” It was almost said in a whisper, but McKay felt like screaming inside. This is what you get for harboring a crush on all the wrong people, his mind rather snidely reminded him.
Did he screw up? Did he accidentally let on to his true feelings? Did Sheppard know and was disgusted with him? Disgusted enough to never speak to McKay again? God, just the mere thought made McKay hyperventilate.
Sheppard must’ve heard the panic in his voice though because he vehemently shook his head. “No - it’s…not.” He rubbed at his neck, hard and like he wanted to choke himself.
“It’s just, you haven’t been speaking to me for weeks now and I might as well be wearing a winter coat around you from the *warm* atmosphere you create toward me. It doesn’t take a genius - which I shoulder remind you that I am - to figure out you hate me now. I just want to know what I did.” No, he didn’t sound pathetic with that last sentence.
Sheppard finally looked up at him, sharp and with a fire in his eyes that froze McKay in his spot. He didn’t think Sheppard was a violent guy, at least not enough to punch his team mate out when said team mate didn’t have basic hand-to-hand combat skills to defend himself with.
“I don’t hate you, Rodney. Fuck, everything’s messed up. I hate *myself*.” Sheppard rubbed his face tiredly with his hands before turning away from McKay and leaning his head back against the same wall he had been hitting his head on not five minutes ago.
McKay’s fingers twitched, not for the first time that morning, to soothe what had seemed like an unbearable burden that Sheppard, as their commanding officer, had to shoulder everyday. He hadn’t just wanted to sooth Sheppard’s tense shoulders, however, he, rather selfishly, just wanted to touch Sheppard - to trail the tips of his fingers against Sheppard’s Adam’s apple and to kiss the sweat off his skin, to bury his hands in the spiky, black hair (his hands sometimes screamed at him to just tug the spikes toward him and everything else be damned).
It was a few minutes before McKay’s mind caught up to what they were talking about. “Hate yourself? Why?” McKay couldn’t mask the incredulousness that tinged his voice - just the thought of any one hating Sheppard - even the man himself - was beyond the scope of incredulousness and went skyrocketing into the impossibility zone.
“Because I’m so fucking unbelievably stupid.” Sheppard laughed bitterly.
“Aww, come on, you must be doing something right if you’re a leader of the expedition that traveled across a galaxy and meets alien life every day.” It was a small gesture of his faith in Sheppard and because Sheppard knew him better than any one (except for that one dirty little secret of his, which, judging from how things were looking, maybe Sheppard knew about that too), he accepted it and smiled softly, and it made McKay’s knees feel a little wobbly.
McKay moved slowly to stand beside Sheppard, heartened by this little slighter of light that he had missed for weeks now. “So what made you feel stupid?”
Sheppard looked at him, teeth scraping at his bottom lip, like he really didn’t want to talk about it and McKay would’ve loved to do anything else but talk, yet…this was the most they talked since that day he had come back from that mission on MX-364 and McKay wanted to hold on to this camaraderie he had just gotten back…at least for the moment.
“I’m sorry.”
McKay swallowed, jammed his hands in his pockets. He could deal, sure. “That’s - well, that’s OK. No, actually what are you apologizing for?” Maybe he was just trying to prolong the torture for as long as possible? That was the only explanation for why he kept hanging around a man who didn’t want him like a fumbling idiot.
“Well, it’s just - you know that mission to MX-364?” At McKay’s nod, he continued, “the Marines, they said some things…”
“What kind of things?”
And because he felt he knew Sheppard better than anyone, he knew what that sad tilt of the head toward him meant.
“Oh, they said things about me?”
Sheppard didn’t nod, but he clenched his jaw and that was all the answer McKay needed.
It was all over, wasn’t it? He should’ve known something was up the minute Sheppard stepped through the gate and that sickening feeling gripped him. He was grateful for the wall behind him as that feeling returned with a vengeance.
“I’m sorry.” He said, brain now trying to formulate plans on how he could remain in Atlantis, trying to figure out how to salvage what was left of his and Sheppard’s friendship. He would deny it, deny it wholly, if someone would just flat out accuse him already.
“What? What do you have to be sorry about?” Sheppard had shut his eyes once again and McKay was grateful for that. It would make these next words that much easier to say.
“Look, I’ll back off. I’ll…try to be less obvious.” That would be next to impossible, sure, as he had already thought once that he *wasn’t* obvious, but that didn’t matter now. He’d just have to dial down his homoerotic crush and remind himself - often and very firmly - that Sheppard had a reputation and so much more to lose than McKay did.
“What are you talking about, McKay?”
Oh god, did Sheppard really expect him to say it? Couldn’t they just get through this without mentioning the words “gay” or “fucking pansy-assed head over heels in love with you it’s really quite embarrassing?”
“You know…” McKay gesticulated in what he hoped conveyed that he’d be less obvious about all the staring and eye-fucking and dirty sex fantasies he had about his commanding officer running through his mind all day long.
But Sheppard turned to look at him, confused as ever, and huh, maybe Sheppard really wasn’t as tuned into him as he was to Sheppard (which just really sucked ass on top of everything else - and oh god, he just thought ‘sucked ass’ in conjunction with Sheppard and there went his mind again). He shook his head (that was so not appropriate to be thinking about right now!) and tried to turn his thoughts back on how to explain himself. “I mean I will be less obvious about all the staring I’ve been doing.” It was best to not delve into all the other unmentionable things McKay thought when he thought of Sheppard.
And, suddenly, it seemed like everything shifted once again. Sheppard turned his eyes on him, and smiled strangely. “You’ve been staring? At me?”
Clearly, McKay should’ve drunk more cups of coffee because he was starting to think five cups just wasn’t cutting it this early in the morning. “Uh…yeah. Wait? Shouldn’t you know this? Isn’t that what your Marines were talking about when you said they were talking about me? How ‘that fucking McKay can’t keep his eyes off you and probably is thinking of doing dirty things to you if only he got a chance and if he wasn’t so fucking terrified of ruining your reputation and fucking don’t-ask-don’t-tell.’ You clearly implied - with your shunning me - that you think they were right and were just waiting for the right time to kick me off the expedition and send my sorry ass home.” Now the thing was McKay didn’t actually want to admit to all that but once his mouth started running off with his brain in tow, but obviously far slower than his mouth, things tended to just sort of spew.
The more horrible thing was McKay thought this was as bad as it could get (was he ever wrong), but that fucking bastard Sheppard had the balls to start laughing at him then - this really happy, gut-splitting laugh that - in other circumstances - McKay would’ve been giddy with joy to hear. As it was, hearing it right then was kind of like feeling a Wraith blaster hitting him.
Trying to hold onto what dignity he still had, he pushed off the wall and tried to escape back to the relative safety of his lab (it wasn’t like he’d spend that much time in it before everything else went to fucking shit) but Sheppard’s grip on his arm stopped him.
“Wait…wait, I wasn’t laughing at you.” As Sheppard was still grinning at him, mirth lighting up his eyes and features that, for the past couple of weeks, were depressed and not at all happy, McKay wasn’t inclined to believe him. Most of all, he was disconcerted that Sheppard would find such pleasure in sending him home packing. “No, no way am I laughing at you…” And then Sheppard yanked McKay toward him rather unceremoniously, making him stumble into Sheppard’s personal space. “And I don’t fucking care about my reputation or DADT.”
And that was all the warning McKay got before Sheppard yanked his face toward his own and kissed him, mouth hot and sweet and exploring.
~*~
This entry was originally posted at http://dahlia-moon.dreamwidth.org/85429.html.
Natural Progression | Sheppard/McKay | R (for strong language) | wc 2, 291 | Written for challenge #78 finally for mcsheplets
McKay would never claim to be psychic but when Sheppard stepped through the gate, didn’t even meet McKay ’s eyes, continued right past him - not even giving him a nod of acknowledgment that he saw McKay standing right there, right in his path, where Sheppard had to sidestep him to keep going on his way - right then was when McKay got this sinking feeling in his stomach like the world just dropped beneath his feet and he was left floundering, arms and hands failing to hold onto something, yet catching nothing but darkness and silence.
~*~
But, by the next day, McKay completely forgot about the sick feeling he had the moment Sheppard got back from his mission with Lorne’s team. It was just that it was an alien feeling and McKay couldn’t figure out where it came from, so it wasn’t worth examining at that juncture. It wasn’t as though the mission had been a bust or anyone had been shot at or any of the hundred things that went wrong on a daily basis happened. It was actually a relatively boring visit to check out a planet that the Wraith had been rumored to have culled recently.
McKay would’ve happily inhabited this state of blissful ignorance if not for the fact that out of nowhere everything between him and Sheppard had changed.
And he was left floundering once again, with not even a clue to figure out where he had gone wrong. (He hadn’t blown up a solar system recently and that was the only thing that McKay thought Sheppard would be so mad at him to go without days of seeking him out or talking to him.)
~*~
Teyla and Ronon caught on quick that there was something wrong. Teyla, ever the diplomat, subtly tried to find out what was wrong but she might as well have been trying to get a wall to talk to her about its feelings. That’s when she turned her inquisitive eyebrows on McKay, but he didn’t know anything (and wasn’t that a shocker? he happened to know *everything* so why was this situation any different?) so he just shrugged and went back to eating his pudding.
He wasn’t so dense that he couldn’t figure out Sheppard was giving him the cold shoulder.
~*~
McKay might’ve stayed in the dark for who knew how long (he certainly wasn’t going to talk to Sheppard - that would’ve involved talking about…feelings and all that barmy, feely-touchy crap McKay didn’t want to touch with a ten-foot pole even on his best day) if not for randomly walking by Sheppard banging his head against the wall one morning. It was clear that Sheppard had just come back from his run, his hair sweaty and plastered to his forehead, his dark shorts revealing the pale, hairy legs and his white cotton t-shirt hanging loosely around his frame.
McKay made sure no one was around before he glanced appreciatively at Sheppard’s backside (what? it was the black shorts, honestly! The eyes couldn’t help themselves but to stray to that particular area and check out the firm, globular butt cheeks the shorts were covering up).
McKay must’ve sighed or something because Sheppard’s shoulders tensed and he turned around slowly.
McKay smiled self-consciously. “Was there a particular reason you were banging your head against the wall?” He wouldn’t say Sheppard was glaring at him, per se, but he didn’t look like he was happy to see him either. (Which pained McKay more than he’d ever say, even under pain of torture.)
“No.” Sheppard gripped his hips with his hands, his posture relaying anything but that he was relaxed and comfortable. He also couldn’t seem to look McKay in the eyes, which sent little bells of alarm ringing in McKay’s head.
“Did I do something bad?” OK, he was breaking his own rule of not talking about his feelings but this was getting ridiculous. He totally screwed up the best friendship he ever had in his entire life (and never mind the fact that he wanted it to be so much more than friendship, but this was Sheppard - the fucking Colonel of the Atlantis expedition and with a reputation to lose if McKay ever professed his lurid fantasies of bending the Colonel over his desk and fucking him until they both dropped to their knees) and it’d be really fucking courteous of Sheppard if he told McKay what he did that was so wrong so that McKay could maybe not do it again.
Sheppard didn’t say anything. Of course, he didn’t have to - his silence and stance said everything for him.
“Oh god, I did do something wrong.” It was almost said in a whisper, but McKay felt like screaming inside. This is what you get for harboring a crush on all the wrong people, his mind rather snidely reminded him.
Did he screw up? Did he accidentally let on to his true feelings? Did Sheppard know and was disgusted with him? Disgusted enough to never speak to McKay again? God, just the mere thought made McKay hyperventilate.
Sheppard must’ve heard the panic in his voice though because he vehemently shook his head. “No - it’s…not.” He rubbed at his neck, hard and like he wanted to choke himself.
“It’s just, you haven’t been speaking to me for weeks now and I might as well be wearing a winter coat around you from the *warm* atmosphere you create toward me. It doesn’t take a genius - which I shoulder remind you that I am - to figure out you hate me now. I just want to know what I did.” No, he didn’t sound pathetic with that last sentence.
Sheppard finally looked up at him, sharp and with a fire in his eyes that froze McKay in his spot. He didn’t think Sheppard was a violent guy, at least not enough to punch his team mate out when said team mate didn’t have basic hand-to-hand combat skills to defend himself with.
“I don’t hate you, Rodney. Fuck, everything’s messed up. I hate *myself*.” Sheppard rubbed his face tiredly with his hands before turning away from McKay and leaning his head back against the same wall he had been hitting his head on not five minutes ago.
McKay’s fingers twitched, not for the first time that morning, to soothe what had seemed like an unbearable burden that Sheppard, as their commanding officer, had to shoulder everyday. He hadn’t just wanted to sooth Sheppard’s tense shoulders, however, he, rather selfishly, just wanted to touch Sheppard - to trail the tips of his fingers against Sheppard’s Adam’s apple and to kiss the sweat off his skin, to bury his hands in the spiky, black hair (his hands sometimes screamed at him to just tug the spikes toward him and everything else be damned).
It was a few minutes before McKay’s mind caught up to what they were talking about. “Hate yourself? Why?” McKay couldn’t mask the incredulousness that tinged his voice - just the thought of any one hating Sheppard - even the man himself - was beyond the scope of incredulousness and went skyrocketing into the impossibility zone.
“Because I’m so fucking unbelievably stupid.” Sheppard laughed bitterly.
“Aww, come on, you must be doing something right if you’re a leader of the expedition that traveled across a galaxy and meets alien life every day.” It was a small gesture of his faith in Sheppard and because Sheppard knew him better than any one (except for that one dirty little secret of his, which, judging from how things were looking, maybe Sheppard knew about that too), he accepted it and smiled softly, and it made McKay’s knees feel a little wobbly.
McKay moved slowly to stand beside Sheppard, heartened by this little slighter of light that he had missed for weeks now. “So what made you feel stupid?”
Sheppard looked at him, teeth scraping at his bottom lip, like he really didn’t want to talk about it and McKay would’ve loved to do anything else but talk, yet…this was the most they talked since that day he had come back from that mission on MX-364 and McKay wanted to hold on to this camaraderie he had just gotten back…at least for the moment.
“I’m sorry.”
McKay swallowed, jammed his hands in his pockets. He could deal, sure. “That’s - well, that’s OK. No, actually what are you apologizing for?” Maybe he was just trying to prolong the torture for as long as possible? That was the only explanation for why he kept hanging around a man who didn’t want him like a fumbling idiot.
“Well, it’s just - you know that mission to MX-364?” At McKay’s nod, he continued, “the Marines, they said some things…”
“What kind of things?”
And because he felt he knew Sheppard better than anyone, he knew what that sad tilt of the head toward him meant.
“Oh, they said things about me?”
Sheppard didn’t nod, but he clenched his jaw and that was all the answer McKay needed.
It was all over, wasn’t it? He should’ve known something was up the minute Sheppard stepped through the gate and that sickening feeling gripped him. He was grateful for the wall behind him as that feeling returned with a vengeance.
“I’m sorry.” He said, brain now trying to formulate plans on how he could remain in Atlantis, trying to figure out how to salvage what was left of his and Sheppard’s friendship. He would deny it, deny it wholly, if someone would just flat out accuse him already.
“What? What do you have to be sorry about?” Sheppard had shut his eyes once again and McKay was grateful for that. It would make these next words that much easier to say.
“Look, I’ll back off. I’ll…try to be less obvious.” That would be next to impossible, sure, as he had already thought once that he *wasn’t* obvious, but that didn’t matter now. He’d just have to dial down his homoerotic crush and remind himself - often and very firmly - that Sheppard had a reputation and so much more to lose than McKay did.
“What are you talking about, McKay?”
Oh god, did Sheppard really expect him to say it? Couldn’t they just get through this without mentioning the words “gay” or “fucking pansy-assed head over heels in love with you it’s really quite embarrassing?”
“You know…” McKay gesticulated in what he hoped conveyed that he’d be less obvious about all the staring and eye-fucking and dirty sex fantasies he had about his commanding officer running through his mind all day long.
But Sheppard turned to look at him, confused as ever, and huh, maybe Sheppard really wasn’t as tuned into him as he was to Sheppard (which just really sucked ass on top of everything else - and oh god, he just thought ‘sucked ass’ in conjunction with Sheppard and there went his mind again). He shook his head (that was so not appropriate to be thinking about right now!) and tried to turn his thoughts back on how to explain himself. “I mean I will be less obvious about all the staring I’ve been doing.” It was best to not delve into all the other unmentionable things McKay thought when he thought of Sheppard.
And, suddenly, it seemed like everything shifted once again. Sheppard turned his eyes on him, and smiled strangely. “You’ve been staring? At me?”
Clearly, McKay should’ve drunk more cups of coffee because he was starting to think five cups just wasn’t cutting it this early in the morning. “Uh…yeah. Wait? Shouldn’t you know this? Isn’t that what your Marines were talking about when you said they were talking about me? How ‘that fucking McKay can’t keep his eyes off you and probably is thinking of doing dirty things to you if only he got a chance and if he wasn’t so fucking terrified of ruining your reputation and fucking don’t-ask-don’t-tell.’ You clearly implied - with your shunning me - that you think they were right and were just waiting for the right time to kick me off the expedition and send my sorry ass home.” Now the thing was McKay didn’t actually want to admit to all that but once his mouth started running off with his brain in tow, but obviously far slower than his mouth, things tended to just sort of spew.
The more horrible thing was McKay thought this was as bad as it could get (was he ever wrong), but that fucking bastard Sheppard had the balls to start laughing at him then - this really happy, gut-splitting laugh that - in other circumstances - McKay would’ve been giddy with joy to hear. As it was, hearing it right then was kind of like feeling a Wraith blaster hitting him.
Trying to hold onto what dignity he still had, he pushed off the wall and tried to escape back to the relative safety of his lab (it wasn’t like he’d spend that much time in it before everything else went to fucking shit) but Sheppard’s grip on his arm stopped him.
“Wait…wait, I wasn’t laughing at you.” As Sheppard was still grinning at him, mirth lighting up his eyes and features that, for the past couple of weeks, were depressed and not at all happy, McKay wasn’t inclined to believe him. Most of all, he was disconcerted that Sheppard would find such pleasure in sending him home packing. “No, no way am I laughing at you…” And then Sheppard yanked McKay toward him rather unceremoniously, making him stumble into Sheppard’s personal space. “And I don’t fucking care about my reputation or DADT.”
And that was all the warning McKay got before Sheppard yanked his face toward his own and kissed him, mouth hot and sweet and exploring.
~*~
This entry was originally posted at http://dahlia-moon.dreamwidth.org/85429.html.