Fic: C. Bergamia (2/3), McBeck, M
Title: C. Bergamia (2/3)
Author: Nicke
"co-writing" and beta: inkscribe
Pairing: Rodney McKay/Carson Beckett
Characters: Radek Zelenka, Elizabeth Weir
Rating: M
Type: Pre-slash, humour, romance, some mild h/c, friendship
Teaser: She raised her cup and Rodned caught a whiff. He startled for a moment at the scent, wondering what it reminded him of, but couldn't place the smell.
Season: 2, set 3 weeks after "Duet"
Wordcount: 2924 (this part)
Prompt: lover100 # 075 Scent
Disclaimer, coverart & stuff: chapter index
A/N: This is a translated and slightly modificated version of a German fanfiction I wrote last year. And inkscribe did so much more than a simple grammar/spelling beta when she had a look at this. She worked her magic and turned this into something beautiful.
***
Go back to part 1
Swearing rather loudly, Rodney finally arrived in his bathroom. Standing under the spray of warm water and soaping up his body when it was covered in bloody scratches wasn't one of his better ideas. The shower gel burned even worse than the sticky substance it was supposed to wash away. Fortunately, one side effect was that it also completely killed his desire to tell Carson they should have sex - in fact, it kept him from thinking of sex whatsoever.
Rodney left the shower and carefully towelled off, sighing in relief to be finished with the torturous shower. The injuries still bled and for a moment he considered returning to the infirmary. He discarded the thought, deciding to tend to the wounds on his shoulder and thigh himself for the moment, bandaging them best he could. He still could change his decision after that, but he really wanted to get some dinner.
He sat down on his bed and tore open one of the bandages. He carefully swabbed the blood from his thigh with his towel and then quickly applied the bandage. Just as he reached for the roll of gauze, he realised he'd forgotten to bring his scissors.
"Damnit," he muttered, pressing his hand onto the bandage as he limped from the bed to his desk to get the damn scissors. Swearing under his breath, he made it back to his bed, bent over and in pain. Under no circumstances and by no means would he go back to the infirmary!
Of course, Carson would have noticed he fled long ago. If he showed up in the doc's torture chambers in this condition, Carson would give him a serious dressing down. The injuries still hurt, but he tried to persuade himself that after a good meal everything would be fine again. If he hurried, he might be lucky enough to get a some dessert, too, maybe even something made with chocolate. The thought of chocolate got him into motion and hastily he cut off a few strips of gauze and finished wrapping his bandage.
"Ha," he proclaimed, as he proudly eyed his handiwork. There was no way Carson would have done a better job, he thought. Satisfied, he reached for the second package to tend to his other injury.
Suddenly the door chime sounded. "Rodney?"
Rodney rolled his eyes and shook his head. Carson of all people! With a sulky expression he pushed his lower lip forward and for a moment considered simply waiting silently until Carson lost his interest and left. But then he realised that no, Carson wouldn't simply leave. And maybe it was better to face him now than to wait for the next day.
Sighing, he reached for the sheet and pulled it across his naked lap. Then he called,"Come in."
The door slid open and Carson entered. He gave Rodney a reproachful look and placed his kit beside him on the bed.
"That's not looking fine," Carson sighed, shaking his head as he opened the bag and went down on his knees in front of Rodney.
"No lecture, please, Carson," Rodney pleaded and pulled the sheet tighter around his frame. "I ... my day's been ..."
"I know, I know," Carson murmured wearily and slipped his latex gloves on. "Your day's been like shit."
Frowning, Rodney eyed the physician as he shook his head and without a word tended to his injuries. All of a sudden, he felt guilty. All the time in the infirmary he'd been whining and moaning and practically done everything he could that would made Carson's work more difficult. And above all he'd run away so the man he was close to calling a friend had come to look after him; he did all that, instead of knocking it off and letting Carson do his job.
"I'm sorry, Carson," he murmured. "I was acting like a fool. I shouldn't have..."
Carson looked up from what he was doing and gave him a warm, forgiving smile. "It's okay, Rodney. I know how you can be when you miss a meal."
Rodney grinned back and tried to ignore the soft touch on his skin. Carson opened a new package and placed the clean bandage on his upper arm. "Could you hold that one, please?"
Rodney felt a comfortable warmth spreading through his chest when he placed his hand over Carson's gloved fingers. Maybe the situation wasn't as fucked-up as he'd thought? Their eyes met and Rodney felt like drowing in Carson's grey-blue eyes. Then Carson pulled back his hand and with agile motions fixed the bandage.
"What about the injury on your thigh?"
"Already taken care of," Rodney said, trying to pull away as the physician pushed the sheet further into his lap.
Small droplets of blood were on the surface of the pad. Carson gave him a reproachful look, but didn't comment. He pulled off the tape fixing the pad and then carefully lifted the whole cover from the wound before beginning to clean it.
Rodney gritted his teeth as Carson cleaned the wound. He realised the mess he was in, a mess he had manoeuvred himself into - but whining would only lead to more reproachful looks and he felt bad enough already. Would he ever be able to make up for that, he wondered.
"I'll make up for that, Carson," he promised. Carson looked up at him and smiled, and again Rodney felt the warm, fuzzy feeling spreading through his chest.
No one else would have made a housecall like that, certainly not without a severe dressing down, and probably even a note of complaint sent to Rodney's superior. But Rodney certainly wouldn't be here with any other doctor, sitting half naked on his own bed and having the man tend to his injuries.
He patted Carson's shoulder. "Thank you, Carson." Carson didn't reply, he simply but tore open another package and placed a clean pad on his wound. Rodney let his hand rest on the doctor's shoulder, enjoying and the closeness of the other man, the feel of him under his hand. Lost in thought, he stared, unfocused, at Carson's neck as he absentmindedly drew small circles with his thumb on the man's collar bone.
"I'm hungry," Rodney said suddenly. "Did you eat already?"
"When would I have found the time?" Carson asked. "I was just about to leave when my last patiend fled." He raised his eyes to Rodney's and gave him a reprimanding look before winking.
"Well then, I think it's time to grab something to eat, Mister Medicine Man," Rodney tossed back with a smile, relaxing and sliding his hand around Carson's neck. The dark hair tickled his fingertips and without really thinking about it he gave in to his temptation and pushed his hand a little further. The hair felt much softer than he'd have guessed.
Carson became rigid and unmoving and Rodney realised with a start what he was doing. He was sitting on his bed, half naked, fingering Carson's neck as the physician knelt by his feet. Startled, he was about to pull back his hand, but Carson caught him by the wrist and held him in place. Rodney stopped, too, regarding Carson as he slowly turned his head into Rodney's hand.
"Rodney..." The physician murmured his name against his palm and lighty touched Rodney's thigh.
"Carson?" Rodney trembled as he caught Carson's gaze. For a moment he looked at his friend and colleague, trying to sort out what was going on.
Realisation sunk in slowly as they traded silent looks. Sending and receiving messages, analysing and interpreting signals, realising that they were both feeling the same.
"Maybe you should get dressed," Beckett said after a long moment, breaking the spell with a shy smile.
"I should do, wait - what?"
The smile on Carson's face broadened as he patted his patient's thigh. "Get dressed, Rodney."
"Get dressed? Maybe I should get dressed?" Rodney stammered as Carson stood and straightened, pulling off the gloves.
"Yes, maybe you should get dressed," Carson repeated with a smile, his eyes roaming slowly over Rodney's naked form. "Because I doubt showing up in the mess like that will get you dinner."
Dinner, Rodney thought and jumped to his feet, trying to wrap the sheet around himself. "That's a brilliant idea!" He noticed Carson's amused expression and hesitated for a moment. Carson seemed to be interested; then again, he was a physician and probably had seen enough naked men on duty to last him a lifetime. But from his expression, Carson obviously didn't think Rodney had the guts to run around naked in his presence. With a triumphant smile Rodney dropped the sheet, straightened his spine, and headed over to his closet.
McKay was well aware of the frailties and deficits of his physical presence, especially after having Cadman pointing out his inadequacies in painful detail. "I've seen your body, McKay - you can keep it." Bah! But he'd always been convinced that the mind came first and was more important than the muscles. So instead of shaping his body, he'd shaped his mind. And until coming to Atlantis this had proven to be the right decision for Rodney, and even so, he thought he did rather well on missions with both his mind and his muscles.
He found a clean pair of boxer shorts and turned his back to Carson to slip into them. He choose loose, comfortable trousers and a casual shirt to avoid rubbing against the bandages with his clothes. Finally, he slipped into socks and shoes.
"Done!" He beamed at Carson. "Let's hurry down and grab something before it's all gone."
His bag in one hand and the other in the pocket of his lab coat, Carson stood and sized him up.
"What? Something wrong?" Rodney looked down at himself, confused, then back up at Carson.
"No," Carson smiled. "Everything's okay." He paused and eyed Rodney again. "The shirt ..."
"You think it's ugly?"
"No, no, it's ... perfect."
"Oh."
Carson smiled and gestured towards the door. "Let's go."
***
The next day Rodney sat in his office at the lab, completely lost in thought. He stared at the screen on his laptop and wondered what to note down in his mission report. The letters danced in front of his eyes and he had a hard time trying to focus. Every now and then someone would interrupt him, asking for his advice. After an hour and barely typing more than four lines, he closed the cover and sat back in his chair.
He'd had his supper the evening before; after a short de-tour to Carson's quarters where the Scot had dropped both his emergency bag as well as the lab coat carelessly onto his bed. Rodney ate a big portion of some sort of vegetable lasagne, much to the delight of his companion. There wasn't chocolate for dessert, but green jello.
Carson had sat across the table, facing him, and they'd talked about this and that and nothing in particular. From time to time their knees had touched and Carson gave him a smile that sent shivers down Rodney's spine. After supper, they went to Rodney's quarters, sitting on his bed, two arm-lengths of space between them, sipping instant coffee and talking.
Rodney's primary insecurity disappeared pretty quickly. Carson wasn't only a good listener, he had quite a few anecdotes to tell, especially from his time at uni. Over time they shifted closer together on the bed until their hands touched, not pushing, just light and comfortable.
Eventually Carson got ready to leave. As they stood by the door, Carson leaned in, cupped Rodney's cheek with his hand and said, "This time without Cadman." Then Carson feathered a kiss on Rodney's mouth. Rodney placed his own hand on Carson's but before he got the chance to deepen the kiss, Carson pulled back and looked at him for a long while.
Now Rodney sat, his face showing the most foolish smile in two galaxies - a smile that probably only impaired his reputation instead of consolidating it - in front of his closed laptop and for the first time in years wished time would pass faster so he could leave his lab.
Maybe he should get a snack, get his blood sugar level back to normal and distract himself a bit, he thought. He got up to get himself a coffee from the mess hall, moving with a cheerful, bouncy step.
"Zelenka," he called across the lab, addressing the Czech and pointing at the items a nearby table. "I'm going to leave the lab to you for a while. Try not to cause too much chaos while I'm away, please."
"No worry, McKay," Radek parried, raising his hands in a theatrical gesture. "We will wait for that until you are back." He shook his head and turned to his work again.
Rodney grinned as he heard Zelenka's quiet murmurs. Probably Czech, and most likely not very flattering. Even if he'd never admit it, Zelenka was - next to himself, of course - the most talented scientist in his team. No matter what he threw at the Czech, and he liked to do that frequently and extensively, the man seemed to have a thick skin that repelled everything. It was a trait McKay very much appreciated.
"I trust you, Zelenka," he said and left the room.
Zelenka looked after him, the furrow on his forehead deepening as he turned to his assistant. "At times McKay scares me. Especially when he's being nice and in a good mood."
*
Rodney thought this had to be his lucky day. He dropped to a chair, releasing a pleased sigh and placing his mug in front of him on the desk. He'd managed to outflank two young female marines as they stood in the foodline, discussing loudly to grab for the thermos with the last bit of coffee. He got the coffee, though they had managed to snag the last two chocolate muffins in return.
Satisfied he sipped at the fragrant but tepid beverage and stared out of the window, lost in his thoughts. His gaze wandered over the larger buildings of the city, down to the quays and the waterfront and then out to sea.
"May I sit down or are you busy?" he heard a voice beside him suddenly ask. Rodney tore his eyes from the window and turned his head, seeing Elizabeth Weir standing beside the table with a cup in her hand, smiling at him.
"No, no," he straightened and gestured to the free chair. "Please, take a seat, I ..." He frowned, turning his head to the window again for a moment and then continued, "I've just been thinking."
Still smiling, Weir sat down and pointed at his mug. "I see you've been more lucky than I was."
"Excuse me?"
She raised her cup and Rodned caught a whiff. He startled for a moment at the scent, wondering what it reminded him of, but couldn't place the smell.
Elizabeth turned her head and, following Rodney's example, also looked out the window. "Isn't the view just fascinating?"
"Oh please," Rodney shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Fascinating's a word I've heard way too many times during the last three years. And Colonel Sheppard's ears aren't pointy enough to make him Mr. Spock. Actually, he could be a part-time elb, but only if he puts on a blonde wig. Then he could be Haldir's little brother."
"Since when did you start being so interested in Sheppard's ears, Rodney?" Elizabeth winked at him and sipped some tea.
Rodney placed his mug on the table and sized her up before answering.
"Personally, I have no interest in the ears or any other body parts of the Colonel," he said. He noted the slight blush in Elizabeth's cheeks with a certain amount of satisfaction. "But," he continued. "Because I am such an attentive observer, I couldn't help missing that said body parts are in the focus of the attention of not a small number of our female expedition members, not to mention the female Athosians." He made a small pause and tapped on the table with his forefinger, while nodding to himself. "Which only verifies my theory of women being at least as fixated on visuals as men are always being accused of!"
He gave her a smug smile before taking another sip from his mug.
Weir looked at him for a moment, then laughed. "At least?" she repeated with a grin. "Rodney, at times I wonder what sort of ideas you have about women."
"I ..." Rodney drew a deep breath, about to explain, when he siddenly remembered what the scent of Elizabeth's tea reminded him of. He frowned and reached for the cup still held in her hand, trying to pull it closer to take a sniff and validate his suspicion.
"Rodney? What are you doing?"
Brushing aside her question with a gesture of his hand, he quickly let go of her cup. "What's this?" he demanded, without replying to her question or trying to justify what had just done.
She looked at him, puzzled. "It's Earl Grey tea. Why?"
For a moment Rodney looked at her, frowning and contemplating her reply. Then his face lit and he jumped to his feet, laughing. Without saying goodbye or even looking at Elizabeth or his own, half-full mug of coffee, he left the mess hall.
"Rodney?" Elizabeth looked after him and then eyed her cup suspiciously. "Sometimes I wonder what's going in in this head of his," she murmured to herself.
***
to be continued
Author: Nicke
"co-writing" and beta: inkscribe
Pairing: Rodney McKay/Carson Beckett
Characters: Radek Zelenka, Elizabeth Weir
Rating: M
Type: Pre-slash, humour, romance, some mild h/c, friendship
Teaser: She raised her cup and Rodned caught a whiff. He startled for a moment at the scent, wondering what it reminded him of, but couldn't place the smell.
Season: 2, set 3 weeks after "Duet"
Wordcount: 2924 (this part)
Prompt: lover100 # 075 Scent
Disclaimer, coverart & stuff: chapter index
A/N: This is a translated and slightly modificated version of a German fanfiction I wrote last year. And inkscribe did so much more than a simple grammar/spelling beta when she had a look at this. She worked her magic and turned this into something beautiful.
***
Go back to part 1
Swearing rather loudly, Rodney finally arrived in his bathroom. Standing under the spray of warm water and soaping up his body when it was covered in bloody scratches wasn't one of his better ideas. The shower gel burned even worse than the sticky substance it was supposed to wash away. Fortunately, one side effect was that it also completely killed his desire to tell Carson they should have sex - in fact, it kept him from thinking of sex whatsoever.
Rodney left the shower and carefully towelled off, sighing in relief to be finished with the torturous shower. The injuries still bled and for a moment he considered returning to the infirmary. He discarded the thought, deciding to tend to the wounds on his shoulder and thigh himself for the moment, bandaging them best he could. He still could change his decision after that, but he really wanted to get some dinner.
He sat down on his bed and tore open one of the bandages. He carefully swabbed the blood from his thigh with his towel and then quickly applied the bandage. Just as he reached for the roll of gauze, he realised he'd forgotten to bring his scissors.
"Damnit," he muttered, pressing his hand onto the bandage as he limped from the bed to his desk to get the damn scissors. Swearing under his breath, he made it back to his bed, bent over and in pain. Under no circumstances and by no means would he go back to the infirmary!
Of course, Carson would have noticed he fled long ago. If he showed up in the doc's torture chambers in this condition, Carson would give him a serious dressing down. The injuries still hurt, but he tried to persuade himself that after a good meal everything would be fine again. If he hurried, he might be lucky enough to get a some dessert, too, maybe even something made with chocolate. The thought of chocolate got him into motion and hastily he cut off a few strips of gauze and finished wrapping his bandage.
"Ha," he proclaimed, as he proudly eyed his handiwork. There was no way Carson would have done a better job, he thought. Satisfied, he reached for the second package to tend to his other injury.
Suddenly the door chime sounded. "Rodney?"
Rodney rolled his eyes and shook his head. Carson of all people! With a sulky expression he pushed his lower lip forward and for a moment considered simply waiting silently until Carson lost his interest and left. But then he realised that no, Carson wouldn't simply leave. And maybe it was better to face him now than to wait for the next day.
Sighing, he reached for the sheet and pulled it across his naked lap. Then he called,"Come in."
The door slid open and Carson entered. He gave Rodney a reproachful look and placed his kit beside him on the bed.
"That's not looking fine," Carson sighed, shaking his head as he opened the bag and went down on his knees in front of Rodney.
"No lecture, please, Carson," Rodney pleaded and pulled the sheet tighter around his frame. "I ... my day's been ..."
"I know, I know," Carson murmured wearily and slipped his latex gloves on. "Your day's been like shit."
Frowning, Rodney eyed the physician as he shook his head and without a word tended to his injuries. All of a sudden, he felt guilty. All the time in the infirmary he'd been whining and moaning and practically done everything he could that would made Carson's work more difficult. And above all he'd run away so the man he was close to calling a friend had come to look after him; he did all that, instead of knocking it off and letting Carson do his job.
"I'm sorry, Carson," he murmured. "I was acting like a fool. I shouldn't have..."
Carson looked up from what he was doing and gave him a warm, forgiving smile. "It's okay, Rodney. I know how you can be when you miss a meal."
Rodney grinned back and tried to ignore the soft touch on his skin. Carson opened a new package and placed the clean bandage on his upper arm. "Could you hold that one, please?"
Rodney felt a comfortable warmth spreading through his chest when he placed his hand over Carson's gloved fingers. Maybe the situation wasn't as fucked-up as he'd thought? Their eyes met and Rodney felt like drowing in Carson's grey-blue eyes. Then Carson pulled back his hand and with agile motions fixed the bandage.
"What about the injury on your thigh?"
"Already taken care of," Rodney said, trying to pull away as the physician pushed the sheet further into his lap.
Small droplets of blood were on the surface of the pad. Carson gave him a reproachful look, but didn't comment. He pulled off the tape fixing the pad and then carefully lifted the whole cover from the wound before beginning to clean it.
Rodney gritted his teeth as Carson cleaned the wound. He realised the mess he was in, a mess he had manoeuvred himself into - but whining would only lead to more reproachful looks and he felt bad enough already. Would he ever be able to make up for that, he wondered.
"I'll make up for that, Carson," he promised. Carson looked up at him and smiled, and again Rodney felt the warm, fuzzy feeling spreading through his chest.
No one else would have made a housecall like that, certainly not without a severe dressing down, and probably even a note of complaint sent to Rodney's superior. But Rodney certainly wouldn't be here with any other doctor, sitting half naked on his own bed and having the man tend to his injuries.
He patted Carson's shoulder. "Thank you, Carson." Carson didn't reply, he simply but tore open another package and placed a clean pad on his wound. Rodney let his hand rest on the doctor's shoulder, enjoying and the closeness of the other man, the feel of him under his hand. Lost in thought, he stared, unfocused, at Carson's neck as he absentmindedly drew small circles with his thumb on the man's collar bone.
"I'm hungry," Rodney said suddenly. "Did you eat already?"
"When would I have found the time?" Carson asked. "I was just about to leave when my last patiend fled." He raised his eyes to Rodney's and gave him a reprimanding look before winking.
"Well then, I think it's time to grab something to eat, Mister Medicine Man," Rodney tossed back with a smile, relaxing and sliding his hand around Carson's neck. The dark hair tickled his fingertips and without really thinking about it he gave in to his temptation and pushed his hand a little further. The hair felt much softer than he'd have guessed.
Carson became rigid and unmoving and Rodney realised with a start what he was doing. He was sitting on his bed, half naked, fingering Carson's neck as the physician knelt by his feet. Startled, he was about to pull back his hand, but Carson caught him by the wrist and held him in place. Rodney stopped, too, regarding Carson as he slowly turned his head into Rodney's hand.
"Rodney..." The physician murmured his name against his palm and lighty touched Rodney's thigh.
"Carson?" Rodney trembled as he caught Carson's gaze. For a moment he looked at his friend and colleague, trying to sort out what was going on.
Realisation sunk in slowly as they traded silent looks. Sending and receiving messages, analysing and interpreting signals, realising that they were both feeling the same.
"Maybe you should get dressed," Beckett said after a long moment, breaking the spell with a shy smile.
"I should do, wait - what?"
The smile on Carson's face broadened as he patted his patient's thigh. "Get dressed, Rodney."
"Get dressed? Maybe I should get dressed?" Rodney stammered as Carson stood and straightened, pulling off the gloves.
"Yes, maybe you should get dressed," Carson repeated with a smile, his eyes roaming slowly over Rodney's naked form. "Because I doubt showing up in the mess like that will get you dinner."
Dinner, Rodney thought and jumped to his feet, trying to wrap the sheet around himself. "That's a brilliant idea!" He noticed Carson's amused expression and hesitated for a moment. Carson seemed to be interested; then again, he was a physician and probably had seen enough naked men on duty to last him a lifetime. But from his expression, Carson obviously didn't think Rodney had the guts to run around naked in his presence. With a triumphant smile Rodney dropped the sheet, straightened his spine, and headed over to his closet.
McKay was well aware of the frailties and deficits of his physical presence, especially after having Cadman pointing out his inadequacies in painful detail. "I've seen your body, McKay - you can keep it." Bah! But he'd always been convinced that the mind came first and was more important than the muscles. So instead of shaping his body, he'd shaped his mind. And until coming to Atlantis this had proven to be the right decision for Rodney, and even so, he thought he did rather well on missions with both his mind and his muscles.
He found a clean pair of boxer shorts and turned his back to Carson to slip into them. He choose loose, comfortable trousers and a casual shirt to avoid rubbing against the bandages with his clothes. Finally, he slipped into socks and shoes.
"Done!" He beamed at Carson. "Let's hurry down and grab something before it's all gone."
His bag in one hand and the other in the pocket of his lab coat, Carson stood and sized him up.
"What? Something wrong?" Rodney looked down at himself, confused, then back up at Carson.
"No," Carson smiled. "Everything's okay." He paused and eyed Rodney again. "The shirt ..."
"You think it's ugly?"
"No, no, it's ... perfect."
"Oh."
Carson smiled and gestured towards the door. "Let's go."
***
The next day Rodney sat in his office at the lab, completely lost in thought. He stared at the screen on his laptop and wondered what to note down in his mission report. The letters danced in front of his eyes and he had a hard time trying to focus. Every now and then someone would interrupt him, asking for his advice. After an hour and barely typing more than four lines, he closed the cover and sat back in his chair.
He'd had his supper the evening before; after a short de-tour to Carson's quarters where the Scot had dropped both his emergency bag as well as the lab coat carelessly onto his bed. Rodney ate a big portion of some sort of vegetable lasagne, much to the delight of his companion. There wasn't chocolate for dessert, but green jello.
Carson had sat across the table, facing him, and they'd talked about this and that and nothing in particular. From time to time their knees had touched and Carson gave him a smile that sent shivers down Rodney's spine. After supper, they went to Rodney's quarters, sitting on his bed, two arm-lengths of space between them, sipping instant coffee and talking.
Rodney's primary insecurity disappeared pretty quickly. Carson wasn't only a good listener, he had quite a few anecdotes to tell, especially from his time at uni. Over time they shifted closer together on the bed until their hands touched, not pushing, just light and comfortable.
Eventually Carson got ready to leave. As they stood by the door, Carson leaned in, cupped Rodney's cheek with his hand and said, "This time without Cadman." Then Carson feathered a kiss on Rodney's mouth. Rodney placed his own hand on Carson's but before he got the chance to deepen the kiss, Carson pulled back and looked at him for a long while.
Now Rodney sat, his face showing the most foolish smile in two galaxies - a smile that probably only impaired his reputation instead of consolidating it - in front of his closed laptop and for the first time in years wished time would pass faster so he could leave his lab.
Maybe he should get a snack, get his blood sugar level back to normal and distract himself a bit, he thought. He got up to get himself a coffee from the mess hall, moving with a cheerful, bouncy step.
"Zelenka," he called across the lab, addressing the Czech and pointing at the items a nearby table. "I'm going to leave the lab to you for a while. Try not to cause too much chaos while I'm away, please."
"No worry, McKay," Radek parried, raising his hands in a theatrical gesture. "We will wait for that until you are back." He shook his head and turned to his work again.
Rodney grinned as he heard Zelenka's quiet murmurs. Probably Czech, and most likely not very flattering. Even if he'd never admit it, Zelenka was - next to himself, of course - the most talented scientist in his team. No matter what he threw at the Czech, and he liked to do that frequently and extensively, the man seemed to have a thick skin that repelled everything. It was a trait McKay very much appreciated.
"I trust you, Zelenka," he said and left the room.
Zelenka looked after him, the furrow on his forehead deepening as he turned to his assistant. "At times McKay scares me. Especially when he's being nice and in a good mood."
*
Rodney thought this had to be his lucky day. He dropped to a chair, releasing a pleased sigh and placing his mug in front of him on the desk. He'd managed to outflank two young female marines as they stood in the foodline, discussing loudly to grab for the thermos with the last bit of coffee. He got the coffee, though they had managed to snag the last two chocolate muffins in return.
Satisfied he sipped at the fragrant but tepid beverage and stared out of the window, lost in his thoughts. His gaze wandered over the larger buildings of the city, down to the quays and the waterfront and then out to sea.
"May I sit down or are you busy?" he heard a voice beside him suddenly ask. Rodney tore his eyes from the window and turned his head, seeing Elizabeth Weir standing beside the table with a cup in her hand, smiling at him.
"No, no," he straightened and gestured to the free chair. "Please, take a seat, I ..." He frowned, turning his head to the window again for a moment and then continued, "I've just been thinking."
Still smiling, Weir sat down and pointed at his mug. "I see you've been more lucky than I was."
"Excuse me?"
She raised her cup and Rodned caught a whiff. He startled for a moment at the scent, wondering what it reminded him of, but couldn't place the smell.
Elizabeth turned her head and, following Rodney's example, also looked out the window. "Isn't the view just fascinating?"
"Oh please," Rodney shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Fascinating's a word I've heard way too many times during the last three years. And Colonel Sheppard's ears aren't pointy enough to make him Mr. Spock. Actually, he could be a part-time elb, but only if he puts on a blonde wig. Then he could be Haldir's little brother."
"Since when did you start being so interested in Sheppard's ears, Rodney?" Elizabeth winked at him and sipped some tea.
Rodney placed his mug on the table and sized her up before answering.
"Personally, I have no interest in the ears or any other body parts of the Colonel," he said. He noted the slight blush in Elizabeth's cheeks with a certain amount of satisfaction. "But," he continued. "Because I am such an attentive observer, I couldn't help missing that said body parts are in the focus of the attention of not a small number of our female expedition members, not to mention the female Athosians." He made a small pause and tapped on the table with his forefinger, while nodding to himself. "Which only verifies my theory of women being at least as fixated on visuals as men are always being accused of!"
He gave her a smug smile before taking another sip from his mug.
Weir looked at him for a moment, then laughed. "At least?" she repeated with a grin. "Rodney, at times I wonder what sort of ideas you have about women."
"I ..." Rodney drew a deep breath, about to explain, when he siddenly remembered what the scent of Elizabeth's tea reminded him of. He frowned and reached for the cup still held in her hand, trying to pull it closer to take a sniff and validate his suspicion.
"Rodney? What are you doing?"
Brushing aside her question with a gesture of his hand, he quickly let go of her cup. "What's this?" he demanded, without replying to her question or trying to justify what had just done.
She looked at him, puzzled. "It's Earl Grey tea. Why?"
For a moment Rodney looked at her, frowning and contemplating her reply. Then his face lit and he jumped to his feet, laughing. Without saying goodbye or even looking at Elizabeth or his own, half-full mug of coffee, he left the mess hall.
"Rodney?" Elizabeth looked after him and then eyed her cup suspiciously. "Sometimes I wonder what's going in in this head of his," she murmured to herself.
***
to be continued