Fic: Cross Product, Part 3
Fandom: Stargate (Atlantis/SG-1 cross)
Title: Cross Product, Part 3
Author: Quasar
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Spoilers: specific references up to Conversion, vague ones up to Allies
Date written: July 2006
Length: ~4,000 words for this part
Summary: McKay and Sheppard misconstrue each other. Twice.
Part One
Part Two
John entered the SGC commissary and found McKay already there, wolfing down a plate of generic slop with familiar rapacity. John grinned and grabbed a pre-wrapped turkey sandwich for himself. The only dessert left was butterscotch pudding, which he hated, but he took one anyway. McKay looked up in surprise when John sat opposite him, and his eyes nearly bugged out when John pushed the pudding across the table to sit next to his own (chocolate -- he'd probably gotten the last one).
"So," said McKay, looking as if no one had ever given him food before. "You and me -- the other McKay -- we're, uh . . ." He made a gesture with two fingers twined together.
Mouth full of turkey sandwich, John only nodded.
"Huh." McKay scraped up the last bite of his stew absently. "Well. I can't say I thought of myself as . . . okay, yes, I'm an open-minded guy. But no one ever . . . huh."
"What's the matter, the folks at the SGC can't recognize quality when it comes wrapped in blistering sarcasm?"
McKay blushed faintly. "It's true, I've been told I can be a bit abrasive."
John lifted the sandwich to hide his smile.
"But Colonel Carter -- I've always found her very attractive, you know --"
"I know."
"But she doesn't seem to return the sentiment." McKay pushed his plate aside and started on the pudding -- butterscotch first.
"Maybe it would help if you worked with her instead of competing against her all the time."
McKay crimped his lips, not denying the charge. "She's the only one I've ever met who can keep up with me. I guess I get carried away, not having to hold back and speak in small words all the time."
"Zelenka keeps up with you, and you don't have that problem with him." John considered. "Maybe because he doesn't care when you interrupt and yell at him. He just yells back. Or curses in Czech, which is probably worse because you can't answer him."
"Czech? You don't mean that Czech engineer, do you? He hardly has any theory background. He only has one PhD, for god's sake!"
John nearly choked on his drink. "Hey, c'mon. Carter only has one PhD, right?"
"Well yes, but she's . . ." He waved his spoon to convey the ineffable wonder of Sam Carter. "I wouldn't have thought Zelinsky was in her class."
John shrugged. "He keeps up with you, anyway. Maybe Atlantis brings out the best in him."
"Yeah, right." McKay chased the last molecules of chocolate pudding around the bottom of the cup.
"No, I'm serious. I don't know if it's the isolation or something about the city, but it makes a lot of us . . . we do more than we ever thought we could."
"You miss it, don't you?" McKay looked wistful, or jealous, or something.
"The city, yeah, but also the people. All of them." He grinned. "I was just wishing Rodney was here when you showed up. Sort of threw me for a loop."
McKay fidgeted with his empty pudding cups. "Well, I know I'm not your Rodney Mckay, but, that is, uh . . . maybe we could -- hmm. You could tell me about Atlantis? I'd like that. Someplace a little more, uh, private, you know?"
John nodded, glancing at the nearest diners a few tables away. Everyone had to have high clearance just to get to this level of the building, but that didn't mean they should be hearing about the Atlantis expedition -- even an Atlantis in another universe. "Sure. General O'Neill assigned me a new room, with no guard and a door that locks on the inside."
He expected a chuckle for that, but instead McKay seemed to be blushing as he stood. "Right. Well . . . if you're done?"
John didn't realize they'd been having two different conversations until they reached his new guest quarters and McKay pushed him back against the door with an awkward, desperate kiss.
-----
Rodney went back to his lab after dinner and kept working until well past midnight, hours after Radek had left. He stopped when his eyes were stinging too much to read the screen anymore. His powerbar stash was getting low, so he headed to the mess hall for a snack.
He stepped out of the transporter to find Sheppard standing there, looking tousled and bewildered. "Hey, McKay," he greeted. "What time does the sun come up around here?"
Rodney blinked. "Not for another five or six hours."
"Huh? I conked out a few hours after dinner -- maybe 21:30 -- and I feel like I've had at least seven hours of sleep, so --"
Rodney smirked. "Twenty-eight hour day, Mr. Almost Mensa. You're not in Kansas anymore." He saw that Sheppard was wearing the colonel's wristband but not his watch, which was programmed for the Atlantis day.
"Oh." Sheppard looked bewildered. "So that makes it, uh . . ."
"Just past one o'clock."
"Great. My stomach thinks it's time for breakfast -- or maybe lunch, even. Where does a guy get some grub here after hours?"
Rodney headed for the kitchen. "That's what I'm here for. I'll show you."
Soon they were each set with a bowl of the lumpy pudding the cooks had been calling tapiogurt. Rodney added slices of a native fruit that was not in the citrus family. Sheppard declined the fruit but chose to scoop the pudding up with a spiced flatbread.
Rodney made a face. "I don't think Alton Brown would approve," he said.
"Chairman Kaga would," Sheppard retorted.
Rodney rolled his eyes. "Fine, if you trust the judgment of a man with the fashion sense of Liberace." Watching Sheppard lick pudding from his fingers made Rodney's breath catch oddly, so he just concentrated on his food until it was gone. "Come on, finish that up and I'll show you where the dirty dishes go."
"We can't all be members of the Hoover family." Sheppard scooped up another bite and made a show of savoring it.
Rodney sighed. "Look, while you were snoring, I was working on a way to get you home. And I need at least four hours of sleep if I'm going to be any good at all tomorrow --"
"Okay, okay, I'm hurrying." Sheppard ducked his head, but it didn't hide his grin.
Snack finished and dishes stowed, Sheppard asked, "Hey, uh, would you mind showing me the way back to my quarters? I got a little turned around when I was looking for it, before."
"Wait, you said you slept already."
"Yeah, there's a little room just down the hall -- looked like it was hooked up for video?"
"Oh yes, we have movie nights there sometimes. Especially right after the Daedalus comes in."
"There was this, uh, I don't know if it was a couch or a bed, but it was long enough to stretch out on, and next thing I knew it was one in the morning. Or something."
"Fine, I'll show you the living quarters. Come this way." Rodney crooked a finger.
Sheppard smirked. "Love to, thanks."
Rodney looked at him suspiciously, but showed him the right node to press on the transporter map. Soon they were in front of the colonel's door. "I'm down that hall: right at the corner, third door on the left. Elizabeth has a sort of penthouse three levels up from here. Teyla and Ronon are over on the other side of the central tower."
"Okay." Sheppard lingered in the doorway with a lost-puppy look.
"What now?" Rodney snapped.
"Um, I had some trouble with the controls for the water in that little washroom near the messhall. Is the shower complicated? Is there a shower?"
Rodney stomped past him to the little bathing alcove that branched off a corner of the room. "The Ancient controls are very simple. One control for temperature -- slide the bar up to make it hotter, but don't go to the top or you'll scald yourself. And one control for flow rate. Apparently they showered sitting down. Some people have raised their showerheads, but it's not so bad once you get used to it. Clear?" Rodney started to turn and jumped when he found Sheppard pressed close behind him.
Sheppard leaned in, face turned to the shower controls but breath tickling Rodney's ear. "Seems easy enough." He turned his head slowly and nuzzled Rodney's neck.
-----
"Mmlph!" said John around a mouthful of tongue. He pushed at McKay's shoulders and they moved apart, staring at each other, panting. "What the --"
McKay leaned in again and John squirmed sideways and back, banging his head against the door. "No, wait -- I'm not -- we're not --"
"Dammit!" McKay slammed his hands against the wood of the door before spinning away in agitation. "I'm so unappealing I can't even compete with myself?"
"What? No! It's not that, Rodney, you -- you're plenty appealing, I mean, it's just --" John couldn't get his mouth to form a complete sentence. Or his brain, for that matter.
"So -- what?" McKay's eyes flicked down to John's crotch. "What's wrong, then? Are you and he exclusive?"
"Huh?" He realized his body was reacting in a predictable way to being kissed. Maybe that was why his brain wasn't working.
"Because I think this should be a loophole in the exclusivity clause. I mean, when you think about it, I am him, sort of. And you're sort of not really you -- not your body, exactly."
"No! We're not. Not not-exclusive, I mean, we aren't even --"
"Good, so let's try this again, John."
Somehow, the sound of his name in Rodney McKay's mouth was the sexiest thing John had ever heard, and he couldn't manage anything in reply except a pitiful, questioning sort of whimper.
This time, McKay took the precaution of grabbing John's head in his hands before moving in. He tasted like chocolate pudding with a hint of butterscotch. His lips were thin but very mobile, and his tongue was pretty clever too. His body was a solid, warm wall holding John in place -- a wall with some interesting bumps to rub against.
And really, John had never had an objection to broad shoulders and a friendly ass. He'd just been living in a close-knit society rife with gossip, and it was starting to look like there was hope for his military career after all . . . but hell, if going off the base to have a little fun was discreet enough for Captain Sheppard and traveling offworld was good enough for Major Sheppard, surely another universe could handle Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard's secrets.
He mirrored McKay's grip on his head and pushed the other man back gently. "Rodney." His voice had gone deep and husky. "Are you sure?"
The blue eyes had almost been overtaken by wide black pupils, as if McKay were drinking in every photon that touched John. "Oh yes." McKay ran his hands down over the borrowed blue fatigues. "I'm sure, John. Just, uh, be patient, okay? I haven't done this before." He looked down where their hips were still jostling against each other. "But I think I'll pick it up pretty quickly." Then he dropped to his knees.
John's head thudded against the door again, but he was feeling no pain.
-----
Rodney shivered. "What -- ahem! -- what are you doing, Colonel?"
"Not a colonel, remember?" Sheppard murmured against the sensitive skin of Rodney's neck. "Just John."
"J-John?" Rodney voice squeaked embarrassingly. He turned himself around in the cramped space and tried to shoulder Sheppard backward, but they just ended up plastered together from chest to hip. "I, I don't think this is really appropriate . . ."
"Why not?" Sheppard ducked in for a kiss, but Rodney turned his head aside at the last moment and got a long lick along his jaw instead.
"C-Colonel Sheppard would never --"
"Oh believe me, Rodney, he would." Sheppard's mouth quirked in a half-grin. "If he didn't have to worry about idiot regulations and fraternizing with a team member, he definitely would."
Rodney stared. "You really think so?"
"Oh, yeah." Sheppard brought his hands up to cradle Rodney's, thumbs rubbing slow circles over his nipples. "I noticed you right away. I've always had a thing for the smart ones, the fast talkers with the clever hands. And from the way you look at me, I'm guessing you've wanted him for a long time. So here's your chance."
"Oh!" Rodney's mouth was unaccountably dry. "I may have noticed -- that is -- he -- you're very hot." A cascade of images tumbled through his mind: Colonel Sheppard at his most appealing and infuriating.
"Thank you." Sheppard leaned forward and licked at Rodney's lips.
Rudney pulled his head back, still nervous. "That is -- I noticed in a sort of I-wish-I-were-that-hot kind of way, not a he's-hot-I-want-to-fuck-him kind of way." That wasn't entirely true; a year ago, when he'd heard that Major Sheppard survived assaulting a Hive ship with a puddlejumper, Rodney had felt an urge to kiss the man. But other concerns came up, and by the time Rodney saw Major Sheppard again in person, the urge was suppressed.
"Whyever not?" Sheppard shimmied his hips a little.
"Oh, god." Tiny tremors were running through Rodney's body, centered where Sheppard was still teasing his nipples. "I'm . . . straight?"
"Try again, Rodney." Sheppard bent his head forward again, and this time Rodney melted, accepted him, and opened to let him in.
-----
McKay turned out to be a talker during sex -- also a moaner, grunter, gasper, and yeller -- which wasn't really a surprise. The hysterical laughter after he came was a little more weird. John didn't think he'd ever heard more than a sarcastic chuckle out of Rodney, but here he was convulsed across John's back, roaring uncontrollably. After being rolled off to one side and petted soothingly for a few minutes, he managed to gasp out a few words through the dimishing giggles to say that it wasn't personal, just something he did sometimes.
"Only snicker after really snort really good ssssehehehex," McKay panted. Then he let out a deflating sort of sigh and fell asleep.
It was early evening, but John had traveled a long way and would just as soon have slept the night, if he could only get his mind to stop working. Fifteen minutes later, he was barely dozing when McKay started to stir. With a resigned sigh, John turned on his side to watch, wondering if his own Rodney woke up with the same little noises and grimaces.
McKay seemed smaller at the SGC, somehow, and John had wondered if it was the bunker architecture or all the tall, muscular people wandering around. Yet on Atlantis Rodney always managed to look solid, no matter who was standing next to him. Even compared to Ronon, Rodney just made the Satedan look overgrown instead of seeming small himself.
Sheppard wasn't thinking about the possibility that he would never see his Rodney, or his Atlantis, again. It was one of those outcomes, like being shot down, that a pilot was always aware of but took care not to examine too closely. It was simply unacceptable, and he would have to make sure it didn't come to that.
McKay's eyes opened, a deep blue in the light of the desk lamp they had left on. He blinked and licked his lips. "Oh."
John suppressed a laugh of his own. "Yep. Still here."
McKay frowned and reached out, a finger tracing across John's cheek to stop at the corner of his mouth. "Are you -- um, I mean, did I -- huh. I fell asleep."
"Yep."
"Sorry. You okay?"
This time John did laugh. "It was great, Rodney. I'll be feeling it for a day or two, but in a good way." John's counterpart must have been getting some action lately, because this body stretched easily, and McKay's slightly clumsy enthusiasm hadn't really hurt.
"Oh. Well, good. Sorry about the laughing thing. It's just --" McKay waved a hand vaguely and sat up. With his hair standing in wisps and his eyes blinking sleepily, he reminded John strangely of Cindy Lu Who. "You got anything to eat in here?"
"Uh, I don't know. I don't think so." John looked around. The fatigues he had been wearing were in an elongated heap from the door to the bed, jumbled with McKay's clothes. The clothes and effects that had been taken from him when he was brought to the mountain were in a neat pile on the desk. The hastily-packed duffel that had apparently been brought from the Mustang -- he hoped they'd put the car back together properly after searching it -- had gotten kicked off the far side of the bed.
McKay located the duffel and started rummaging through it hopefully, but none of the snacks Sheppard had bought on the road seemed to be in there.
"Didn't we just eat, anyway?"
"Well, yes, but I get hungry when, uh . . ." McKay blushed, apparently too shy to talk about things he'd been eager enough to do at the time.
"Yeah, sure. You're always hungry, McKay." John stood and stretched, aware of eyes tracing down his back, then started picking up the clothes they'd left on the floor. "I take extra powerbars and MREs on missions just for you, but I didn't expect to meet you when I packed to drive here." He tossed McKay's clothes in his general direction and folded the fatigues quickly before reaching for his own civvies.
McKay stared, the shirt he had caught dangling loosely from his hand. "On missions? You take me -- my double -- on missions?"
"Well yeah, since he's a member of my team."
McKay's eyes were huge. "I'm on a gate team?"
"Not just a team: my team, the first contact team, Atlantis's answer to SG-1." John grinned at the scientist's astonishment as he stepped into his jeans.
"And we -- that works out okay? For you?"
John grabbed his duffel and dug through it for a cleaner shirt. "You saved the city -- and the team, and me -- more times than I can count. You even helped save Earth and pretty much the whole Milky Way galaxy a couple months ago."
McKay just sat on the end of the bed, his mouth slightly open. Whatever he'd been doing at the SGC, apparently it didn't provide much fuel for an ego like his, because he was having a lot of trouble with the idea of himself as a hero. Maybe that was part of why he seemed smaller here, too.
"Come on, Rodney, get dressed. I thought you wanted to eat?"
McKay blinked. "But . . . you said --"
"We had dinner pretty early. I'm betting there are still a few servings left. If not, we can grab one of those snack packs they keep in the commissary."
Now McKay was pulling his clothes on. "But you were going to tell me about Atlantis."
"You mean that wasn't just a ploy to get some privacy?"
"Well. Maybe a little." He was blushing again. "I still want to hear about it, though. I was supposed to -- that is, I'm still interested."
"Alright. If there's anyone in the mess, we can take the food somewhere else."
"Okay, great, what are you waiting for?" McKay finished dressing by squeezing into his shoes without untying them, and reached for the door.
"Uh, you might want to use this, first." John held out a comb. "With me, no one can tell, but your hair kinda telegraphs its recent history."
McKay checked the mirror over the desk and squeaked in dismay.
-----
Rodney dreamed that Sheppard pulled his face off like one of those latex masks in Mission: Impossible, and underneath the mask he was really Colonel Simmons. He chased Rodney through Atlantis and finally cornered him in the damaged nanovirus lab. As Simmons-with-Sheppard-hair approached, crunching over the broken glass-like polymer on the floor, his eyes glowed. He pulled a larval Goa'uld out of his pants and held it up threateningly -- but then, bizarrely, he began to kiss and lick it. Even more strangely, Rodney could feel the kisses on himself, as if someone were --
He sat up with a gasp and threw the covers back.
Sheppard grinned and pulled his mouth free. "Morning."
The sky outside the window was pale grey with pre-dawn light, the view not the one Rodney was used to. He was in Sheppard's room -- the Colonel's room.
"Oh my god."
"No, it wasn't a dream." Sheppard bent his head for another taste.
"Oh my god." Rodney scrambled backward, desperately sorting what 'wasn't a dream' from what he actually had dreamed. The reality wasn't as disturbing, but it was still a shock in the light of almost-day. "Oh no. I can't believe I, we -- in Colonel Sheppard's bed!"
Sheppard sighed and sat up. "I told you, Rodney, he wouldn't have a problem with it. I'm sure he would have done it himself if he didn't have, um, other things to worry about."
"So you say. But he's never given me any indication that he, he wanted . . . anything like that!"
"You mean he hasn't been flirting with you since day one?" Sheppard grinned wickedly.
"Flirting?"
"That's the impression I got."
"From where? From who?!"
Sheppard shrugged. "Everything anyone's said about your precious colonel. The way you look at me. The way no one's surprised when I flirt with you." He cupped Rodney's cheek tenderly. "And like I said, genius, you're just my type."
"But not his!"
Sheppard was starting to look a little annoyed. "Fine, he's a stiff-rumped straight arrow, like you say. Are you sure you really want him back?"
"Wait a minute." Rodney stared, putting the pieces together. "You're trying to suborn me. You want Atlantis for yourself!"
"What? No, wait --"
Rodney pushed him away and jumped out of the bed, starting to pace. "I should have seen it before. Things must be worse in your universe. You said you were discharged -- what for? Are you in jail or something? Oh god -- that's it, isn't it?"
"No! I'm not --"
Rodney's mind was racing, his breath coming faster. "And Sheppard got transferred into your place. He's probably the bitch of cell block 8 by now, and you're trying to keep me from getting him back!"
"I'm not trying to keep you from doing anything!" Sheppard climbed out of the wrecked bed and started to approach Rodney, hands held out placatingly.
"Stay back! I warn you, if you try anything I'll, I'll --" Rodney looked around the room for something he could use to defend himself, found his clothes instead and frantically started pulling them on. "Kill me and they'll find out what you're up to, I swear!"
"Kill --! Rodney, I'm not going to hurt you."
"Yeah, and you're not going to stop me, either. So just, just stay away from me, okay? I won't tell anyone about this unless you try to pull something else -- then you'll end up in the brig. And trust me, you won't like that any better than Leavenworth."
"This is crazy. McKay, listen to me. I wasn't in jail!"
Rodney tucked his boots and socks under one arm and pointed threateningly. "Just stay out of my way!" He stormed at the door and was a little surprised when it let him through at once. Maybe Sheppard hadn't figured out how to control the Ancient technology yet -- but it was too late; Rodney was gone.
Part Four
Title: Cross Product, Part 3
Author: Quasar
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Spoilers: specific references up to Conversion, vague ones up to Allies
Date written: July 2006
Length: ~4,000 words for this part
Summary: McKay and Sheppard misconstrue each other. Twice.
Part One
Part Two
John entered the SGC commissary and found McKay already there, wolfing down a plate of generic slop with familiar rapacity. John grinned and grabbed a pre-wrapped turkey sandwich for himself. The only dessert left was butterscotch pudding, which he hated, but he took one anyway. McKay looked up in surprise when John sat opposite him, and his eyes nearly bugged out when John pushed the pudding across the table to sit next to his own (chocolate -- he'd probably gotten the last one).
"So," said McKay, looking as if no one had ever given him food before. "You and me -- the other McKay -- we're, uh . . ." He made a gesture with two fingers twined together.
Mouth full of turkey sandwich, John only nodded.
"Huh." McKay scraped up the last bite of his stew absently. "Well. I can't say I thought of myself as . . . okay, yes, I'm an open-minded guy. But no one ever . . . huh."
"What's the matter, the folks at the SGC can't recognize quality when it comes wrapped in blistering sarcasm?"
McKay blushed faintly. "It's true, I've been told I can be a bit abrasive."
John lifted the sandwich to hide his smile.
"But Colonel Carter -- I've always found her very attractive, you know --"
"I know."
"But she doesn't seem to return the sentiment." McKay pushed his plate aside and started on the pudding -- butterscotch first.
"Maybe it would help if you worked with her instead of competing against her all the time."
McKay crimped his lips, not denying the charge. "She's the only one I've ever met who can keep up with me. I guess I get carried away, not having to hold back and speak in small words all the time."
"Zelenka keeps up with you, and you don't have that problem with him." John considered. "Maybe because he doesn't care when you interrupt and yell at him. He just yells back. Or curses in Czech, which is probably worse because you can't answer him."
"Czech? You don't mean that Czech engineer, do you? He hardly has any theory background. He only has one PhD, for god's sake!"
John nearly choked on his drink. "Hey, c'mon. Carter only has one PhD, right?"
"Well yes, but she's . . ." He waved his spoon to convey the ineffable wonder of Sam Carter. "I wouldn't have thought Zelinsky was in her class."
John shrugged. "He keeps up with you, anyway. Maybe Atlantis brings out the best in him."
"Yeah, right." McKay chased the last molecules of chocolate pudding around the bottom of the cup.
"No, I'm serious. I don't know if it's the isolation or something about the city, but it makes a lot of us . . . we do more than we ever thought we could."
"You miss it, don't you?" McKay looked wistful, or jealous, or something.
"The city, yeah, but also the people. All of them." He grinned. "I was just wishing Rodney was here when you showed up. Sort of threw me for a loop."
McKay fidgeted with his empty pudding cups. "Well, I know I'm not your Rodney Mckay, but, that is, uh . . . maybe we could -- hmm. You could tell me about Atlantis? I'd like that. Someplace a little more, uh, private, you know?"
John nodded, glancing at the nearest diners a few tables away. Everyone had to have high clearance just to get to this level of the building, but that didn't mean they should be hearing about the Atlantis expedition -- even an Atlantis in another universe. "Sure. General O'Neill assigned me a new room, with no guard and a door that locks on the inside."
He expected a chuckle for that, but instead McKay seemed to be blushing as he stood. "Right. Well . . . if you're done?"
John didn't realize they'd been having two different conversations until they reached his new guest quarters and McKay pushed him back against the door with an awkward, desperate kiss.
-----
Rodney went back to his lab after dinner and kept working until well past midnight, hours after Radek had left. He stopped when his eyes were stinging too much to read the screen anymore. His powerbar stash was getting low, so he headed to the mess hall for a snack.
He stepped out of the transporter to find Sheppard standing there, looking tousled and bewildered. "Hey, McKay," he greeted. "What time does the sun come up around here?"
Rodney blinked. "Not for another five or six hours."
"Huh? I conked out a few hours after dinner -- maybe 21:30 -- and I feel like I've had at least seven hours of sleep, so --"
Rodney smirked. "Twenty-eight hour day, Mr. Almost Mensa. You're not in Kansas anymore." He saw that Sheppard was wearing the colonel's wristband but not his watch, which was programmed for the Atlantis day.
"Oh." Sheppard looked bewildered. "So that makes it, uh . . ."
"Just past one o'clock."
"Great. My stomach thinks it's time for breakfast -- or maybe lunch, even. Where does a guy get some grub here after hours?"
Rodney headed for the kitchen. "That's what I'm here for. I'll show you."
Soon they were each set with a bowl of the lumpy pudding the cooks had been calling tapiogurt. Rodney added slices of a native fruit that was not in the citrus family. Sheppard declined the fruit but chose to scoop the pudding up with a spiced flatbread.
Rodney made a face. "I don't think Alton Brown would approve," he said.
"Chairman Kaga would," Sheppard retorted.
Rodney rolled his eyes. "Fine, if you trust the judgment of a man with the fashion sense of Liberace." Watching Sheppard lick pudding from his fingers made Rodney's breath catch oddly, so he just concentrated on his food until it was gone. "Come on, finish that up and I'll show you where the dirty dishes go."
"We can't all be members of the Hoover family." Sheppard scooped up another bite and made a show of savoring it.
Rodney sighed. "Look, while you were snoring, I was working on a way to get you home. And I need at least four hours of sleep if I'm going to be any good at all tomorrow --"
"Okay, okay, I'm hurrying." Sheppard ducked his head, but it didn't hide his grin.
Snack finished and dishes stowed, Sheppard asked, "Hey, uh, would you mind showing me the way back to my quarters? I got a little turned around when I was looking for it, before."
"Wait, you said you slept already."
"Yeah, there's a little room just down the hall -- looked like it was hooked up for video?"
"Oh yes, we have movie nights there sometimes. Especially right after the Daedalus comes in."
"There was this, uh, I don't know if it was a couch or a bed, but it was long enough to stretch out on, and next thing I knew it was one in the morning. Or something."
"Fine, I'll show you the living quarters. Come this way." Rodney crooked a finger.
Sheppard smirked. "Love to, thanks."
Rodney looked at him suspiciously, but showed him the right node to press on the transporter map. Soon they were in front of the colonel's door. "I'm down that hall: right at the corner, third door on the left. Elizabeth has a sort of penthouse three levels up from here. Teyla and Ronon are over on the other side of the central tower."
"Okay." Sheppard lingered in the doorway with a lost-puppy look.
"What now?" Rodney snapped.
"Um, I had some trouble with the controls for the water in that little washroom near the messhall. Is the shower complicated? Is there a shower?"
Rodney stomped past him to the little bathing alcove that branched off a corner of the room. "The Ancient controls are very simple. One control for temperature -- slide the bar up to make it hotter, but don't go to the top or you'll scald yourself. And one control for flow rate. Apparently they showered sitting down. Some people have raised their showerheads, but it's not so bad once you get used to it. Clear?" Rodney started to turn and jumped when he found Sheppard pressed close behind him.
Sheppard leaned in, face turned to the shower controls but breath tickling Rodney's ear. "Seems easy enough." He turned his head slowly and nuzzled Rodney's neck.
-----
"Mmlph!" said John around a mouthful of tongue. He pushed at McKay's shoulders and they moved apart, staring at each other, panting. "What the --"
McKay leaned in again and John squirmed sideways and back, banging his head against the door. "No, wait -- I'm not -- we're not --"
"Dammit!" McKay slammed his hands against the wood of the door before spinning away in agitation. "I'm so unappealing I can't even compete with myself?"
"What? No! It's not that, Rodney, you -- you're plenty appealing, I mean, it's just --" John couldn't get his mouth to form a complete sentence. Or his brain, for that matter.
"So -- what?" McKay's eyes flicked down to John's crotch. "What's wrong, then? Are you and he exclusive?"
"Huh?" He realized his body was reacting in a predictable way to being kissed. Maybe that was why his brain wasn't working.
"Because I think this should be a loophole in the exclusivity clause. I mean, when you think about it, I am him, sort of. And you're sort of not really you -- not your body, exactly."
"No! We're not. Not not-exclusive, I mean, we aren't even --"
"Good, so let's try this again, John."
Somehow, the sound of his name in Rodney McKay's mouth was the sexiest thing John had ever heard, and he couldn't manage anything in reply except a pitiful, questioning sort of whimper.
This time, McKay took the precaution of grabbing John's head in his hands before moving in. He tasted like chocolate pudding with a hint of butterscotch. His lips were thin but very mobile, and his tongue was pretty clever too. His body was a solid, warm wall holding John in place -- a wall with some interesting bumps to rub against.
And really, John had never had an objection to broad shoulders and a friendly ass. He'd just been living in a close-knit society rife with gossip, and it was starting to look like there was hope for his military career after all . . . but hell, if going off the base to have a little fun was discreet enough for Captain Sheppard and traveling offworld was good enough for Major Sheppard, surely another universe could handle Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard's secrets.
He mirrored McKay's grip on his head and pushed the other man back gently. "Rodney." His voice had gone deep and husky. "Are you sure?"
The blue eyes had almost been overtaken by wide black pupils, as if McKay were drinking in every photon that touched John. "Oh yes." McKay ran his hands down over the borrowed blue fatigues. "I'm sure, John. Just, uh, be patient, okay? I haven't done this before." He looked down where their hips were still jostling against each other. "But I think I'll pick it up pretty quickly." Then he dropped to his knees.
John's head thudded against the door again, but he was feeling no pain.
-----
Rodney shivered. "What -- ahem! -- what are you doing, Colonel?"
"Not a colonel, remember?" Sheppard murmured against the sensitive skin of Rodney's neck. "Just John."
"J-John?" Rodney voice squeaked embarrassingly. He turned himself around in the cramped space and tried to shoulder Sheppard backward, but they just ended up plastered together from chest to hip. "I, I don't think this is really appropriate . . ."
"Why not?" Sheppard ducked in for a kiss, but Rodney turned his head aside at the last moment and got a long lick along his jaw instead.
"C-Colonel Sheppard would never --"
"Oh believe me, Rodney, he would." Sheppard's mouth quirked in a half-grin. "If he didn't have to worry about idiot regulations and fraternizing with a team member, he definitely would."
Rodney stared. "You really think so?"
"Oh, yeah." Sheppard brought his hands up to cradle Rodney's, thumbs rubbing slow circles over his nipples. "I noticed you right away. I've always had a thing for the smart ones, the fast talkers with the clever hands. And from the way you look at me, I'm guessing you've wanted him for a long time. So here's your chance."
"Oh!" Rodney's mouth was unaccountably dry. "I may have noticed -- that is -- he -- you're very hot." A cascade of images tumbled through his mind: Colonel Sheppard at his most appealing and infuriating.
"Thank you." Sheppard leaned forward and licked at Rodney's lips.
Rudney pulled his head back, still nervous. "That is -- I noticed in a sort of I-wish-I-were-that-hot kind of way, not a he's-hot-I-want-to-fuck-him kind of way." That wasn't entirely true; a year ago, when he'd heard that Major Sheppard survived assaulting a Hive ship with a puddlejumper, Rodney had felt an urge to kiss the man. But other concerns came up, and by the time Rodney saw Major Sheppard again in person, the urge was suppressed.
"Whyever not?" Sheppard shimmied his hips a little.
"Oh, god." Tiny tremors were running through Rodney's body, centered where Sheppard was still teasing his nipples. "I'm . . . straight?"
"Try again, Rodney." Sheppard bent his head forward again, and this time Rodney melted, accepted him, and opened to let him in.
-----
McKay turned out to be a talker during sex -- also a moaner, grunter, gasper, and yeller -- which wasn't really a surprise. The hysterical laughter after he came was a little more weird. John didn't think he'd ever heard more than a sarcastic chuckle out of Rodney, but here he was convulsed across John's back, roaring uncontrollably. After being rolled off to one side and petted soothingly for a few minutes, he managed to gasp out a few words through the dimishing giggles to say that it wasn't personal, just something he did sometimes.
"Only snicker after really snort really good ssssehehehex," McKay panted. Then he let out a deflating sort of sigh and fell asleep.
It was early evening, but John had traveled a long way and would just as soon have slept the night, if he could only get his mind to stop working. Fifteen minutes later, he was barely dozing when McKay started to stir. With a resigned sigh, John turned on his side to watch, wondering if his own Rodney woke up with the same little noises and grimaces.
McKay seemed smaller at the SGC, somehow, and John had wondered if it was the bunker architecture or all the tall, muscular people wandering around. Yet on Atlantis Rodney always managed to look solid, no matter who was standing next to him. Even compared to Ronon, Rodney just made the Satedan look overgrown instead of seeming small himself.
Sheppard wasn't thinking about the possibility that he would never see his Rodney, or his Atlantis, again. It was one of those outcomes, like being shot down, that a pilot was always aware of but took care not to examine too closely. It was simply unacceptable, and he would have to make sure it didn't come to that.
McKay's eyes opened, a deep blue in the light of the desk lamp they had left on. He blinked and licked his lips. "Oh."
John suppressed a laugh of his own. "Yep. Still here."
McKay frowned and reached out, a finger tracing across John's cheek to stop at the corner of his mouth. "Are you -- um, I mean, did I -- huh. I fell asleep."
"Yep."
"Sorry. You okay?"
This time John did laugh. "It was great, Rodney. I'll be feeling it for a day or two, but in a good way." John's counterpart must have been getting some action lately, because this body stretched easily, and McKay's slightly clumsy enthusiasm hadn't really hurt.
"Oh. Well, good. Sorry about the laughing thing. It's just --" McKay waved a hand vaguely and sat up. With his hair standing in wisps and his eyes blinking sleepily, he reminded John strangely of Cindy Lu Who. "You got anything to eat in here?"
"Uh, I don't know. I don't think so." John looked around. The fatigues he had been wearing were in an elongated heap from the door to the bed, jumbled with McKay's clothes. The clothes and effects that had been taken from him when he was brought to the mountain were in a neat pile on the desk. The hastily-packed duffel that had apparently been brought from the Mustang -- he hoped they'd put the car back together properly after searching it -- had gotten kicked off the far side of the bed.
McKay located the duffel and started rummaging through it hopefully, but none of the snacks Sheppard had bought on the road seemed to be in there.
"Didn't we just eat, anyway?"
"Well, yes, but I get hungry when, uh . . ." McKay blushed, apparently too shy to talk about things he'd been eager enough to do at the time.
"Yeah, sure. You're always hungry, McKay." John stood and stretched, aware of eyes tracing down his back, then started picking up the clothes they'd left on the floor. "I take extra powerbars and MREs on missions just for you, but I didn't expect to meet you when I packed to drive here." He tossed McKay's clothes in his general direction and folded the fatigues quickly before reaching for his own civvies.
McKay stared, the shirt he had caught dangling loosely from his hand. "On missions? You take me -- my double -- on missions?"
"Well yeah, since he's a member of my team."
McKay's eyes were huge. "I'm on a gate team?"
"Not just a team: my team, the first contact team, Atlantis's answer to SG-1." John grinned at the scientist's astonishment as he stepped into his jeans.
"And we -- that works out okay? For you?"
John grabbed his duffel and dug through it for a cleaner shirt. "You saved the city -- and the team, and me -- more times than I can count. You even helped save Earth and pretty much the whole Milky Way galaxy a couple months ago."
McKay just sat on the end of the bed, his mouth slightly open. Whatever he'd been doing at the SGC, apparently it didn't provide much fuel for an ego like his, because he was having a lot of trouble with the idea of himself as a hero. Maybe that was part of why he seemed smaller here, too.
"Come on, Rodney, get dressed. I thought you wanted to eat?"
McKay blinked. "But . . . you said --"
"We had dinner pretty early. I'm betting there are still a few servings left. If not, we can grab one of those snack packs they keep in the commissary."
Now McKay was pulling his clothes on. "But you were going to tell me about Atlantis."
"You mean that wasn't just a ploy to get some privacy?"
"Well. Maybe a little." He was blushing again. "I still want to hear about it, though. I was supposed to -- that is, I'm still interested."
"Alright. If there's anyone in the mess, we can take the food somewhere else."
"Okay, great, what are you waiting for?" McKay finished dressing by squeezing into his shoes without untying them, and reached for the door.
"Uh, you might want to use this, first." John held out a comb. "With me, no one can tell, but your hair kinda telegraphs its recent history."
McKay checked the mirror over the desk and squeaked in dismay.
-----
Rodney dreamed that Sheppard pulled his face off like one of those latex masks in Mission: Impossible, and underneath the mask he was really Colonel Simmons. He chased Rodney through Atlantis and finally cornered him in the damaged nanovirus lab. As Simmons-with-Sheppard-hair approached, crunching over the broken glass-like polymer on the floor, his eyes glowed. He pulled a larval Goa'uld out of his pants and held it up threateningly -- but then, bizarrely, he began to kiss and lick it. Even more strangely, Rodney could feel the kisses on himself, as if someone were --
He sat up with a gasp and threw the covers back.
Sheppard grinned and pulled his mouth free. "Morning."
The sky outside the window was pale grey with pre-dawn light, the view not the one Rodney was used to. He was in Sheppard's room -- the Colonel's room.
"Oh my god."
"No, it wasn't a dream." Sheppard bent his head for another taste.
"Oh my god." Rodney scrambled backward, desperately sorting what 'wasn't a dream' from what he actually had dreamed. The reality wasn't as disturbing, but it was still a shock in the light of almost-day. "Oh no. I can't believe I, we -- in Colonel Sheppard's bed!"
Sheppard sighed and sat up. "I told you, Rodney, he wouldn't have a problem with it. I'm sure he would have done it himself if he didn't have, um, other things to worry about."
"So you say. But he's never given me any indication that he, he wanted . . . anything like that!"
"You mean he hasn't been flirting with you since day one?" Sheppard grinned wickedly.
"Flirting?"
"That's the impression I got."
"From where? From who?!"
Sheppard shrugged. "Everything anyone's said about your precious colonel. The way you look at me. The way no one's surprised when I flirt with you." He cupped Rodney's cheek tenderly. "And like I said, genius, you're just my type."
"But not his!"
Sheppard was starting to look a little annoyed. "Fine, he's a stiff-rumped straight arrow, like you say. Are you sure you really want him back?"
"Wait a minute." Rodney stared, putting the pieces together. "You're trying to suborn me. You want Atlantis for yourself!"
"What? No, wait --"
Rodney pushed him away and jumped out of the bed, starting to pace. "I should have seen it before. Things must be worse in your universe. You said you were discharged -- what for? Are you in jail or something? Oh god -- that's it, isn't it?"
"No! I'm not --"
Rodney's mind was racing, his breath coming faster. "And Sheppard got transferred into your place. He's probably the bitch of cell block 8 by now, and you're trying to keep me from getting him back!"
"I'm not trying to keep you from doing anything!" Sheppard climbed out of the wrecked bed and started to approach Rodney, hands held out placatingly.
"Stay back! I warn you, if you try anything I'll, I'll --" Rodney looked around the room for something he could use to defend himself, found his clothes instead and frantically started pulling them on. "Kill me and they'll find out what you're up to, I swear!"
"Kill --! Rodney, I'm not going to hurt you."
"Yeah, and you're not going to stop me, either. So just, just stay away from me, okay? I won't tell anyone about this unless you try to pull something else -- then you'll end up in the brig. And trust me, you won't like that any better than Leavenworth."
"This is crazy. McKay, listen to me. I wasn't in jail!"
Rodney tucked his boots and socks under one arm and pointed threateningly. "Just stay out of my way!" He stormed at the door and was a little surprised when it let him through at once. Maybe Sheppard hadn't figured out how to control the Ancient technology yet -- but it was too late; Rodney was gone.
Part Four