Fic: 7 McShep Fusions I'm Not Writing - Monk
Title: 7 McShep Fusions I'm Not Writing - Monk
Author: Cypher
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Main Character(s): John Sheppard, Rodney McKay
Warnings: Character Death, Slash, Fusion AU
Rating: PG-13
Summary: "It was so hard to move on, without his husband."
Author's Notes: SGA/Monk fusion. I know there's a big one posted ("It's a Jungle Out There"), but I had a slightly...different take.
14 Valentines: Day 2 - Hunger
It was sunny, one of the later days in Colorado’s spring where it wasn’t too warm, and the cold nip had left the breeze. He was lying back on a soft wool blanket, the green one he’d inherited from his mother, with his hands behind his head and his t-shirt riding up enough to expose an inch of skin. Across the walkway, a couple of children were playing in a jungle gym, and the sounds brought a smile to his face as he rested his eyes.
“I hate picnics,” a gruff voice said beside him, a warm leg pressed against his denim covered thigh. It was warm enough he could’ve worn shorts, but there had been an accident with the vacuum cleaner and all he could wear without embarrassing stains were his jeans. “You know I took in way too much radiation today, plus there’s a dozen bees plotting my demise nearby, I can feel it.” A finger poked John in the ribs. “And there’s kids,” the last word was spoken like an epithet.
“I like kids,” John replied laconically, tilting his head and opening an eye to take in the view of his unofficial husband.
The broad-shouldered man let out a huff of air. “No. No, no, and, didn’t I say? No. We’ve had this discussion before. I work long hours and can’t stand them. We’re not getting one.” He narrowed his bright blue eyes at John. “And don’t you dare try to pout your way into getting one, either.”
“Rodney,” John drew out the name to almost three syllables, turning his head back towards the sky. “I don’t want kids.” Yet, he added silently. He was great with kids, and he did want his own, but like Rodney he didn’t have the time or energy to raise one. At least, not until he got tenure at the college.
There was a snort of derision. “Sure you don’t.” There were a few blessed moments of silence, a rare treat for John, since Rodney was an avid talker, even in bed. “ This is stupid, you know. We could be somewhere else, somewhere romantic, or educational, or maybe, you know, useful to your situation.”
John reached out and grasped one of Rodney’s shoulders, squeezing it. “I want this.” Another moment of silence, and then there was a warm body lying next to him, one of Rodney’s arms across his chest both possessive and gentle. It was exactly the way it should be, him and Rodney, spending time together. They got to do that so little ever since they moved to Colorado and Rodney got that new job at Cheyenne Mountain involving deep space telemetry.
“This is stupid,” Rodney said again. “Also, why they hell aren’t you teaching? Your little hiatus will ruin your rep as a tenured professor. You need to get back.”
“I can’t.” There was a bitterness to John’s tone. He didn’t want to talk about it. “Can we just-”
“No.” And then Rodney was leaning over him, a crooked scowl on his face. “You won’t teach, but you solve crimes in your spare time.”
“It pays the bills.” And it was fun, plus it took his mind off the school, off of everything. It wasn’t easy in his condition, but it helped him cope.
“It put you here,” Rodney said, eyes flashing darkly. “How long have you got?”
John shrugged one shoulder as he reached up to pull Rodney down. “I don’t know.’
Rodney didn’t budge. “Don’t play the idiot with me. Yes, you’re not a genius like me, but you’re smart; too smart to not know. Now how long?”
John let out a long breath through his nose, his hand stroking Rodney’s arm. “I dunno. Feels like your standard pine box so…maybe twenty minutes before all the oxygen is used up.” He actually knew the exact dimensions in his head because he’d seen the empty casket in the back of Kavanagh’s truck earlier.
“So stop talking and start conserving your breath, moron. You’ve got to live long enough for them to find you.”
John shook his head, once more resting his hand on Rodney’s back. “I don’t want to go.” He didn’t have to explain the why. He’d whispered ‘I miss you’ into Rodney’s pillow--preserved perfectly in a plastic slipcover--plenty of times for his partner to know. “Can’t we just enjoy the afternoon?” John looked past Rodney, to the kids. One of them, a blond girl with a propensity to jump off swings while they were high in the air, flew from her seat and landed in the arms of her father. “Why’d you have to go? We’d have made great parents.”
“You would’ve been a great parent. I would’ve been the breadwinner. And don’t try changing the subject, John Sheppard.” Rodney slapped him lightly on his chest. “Focus. You have to escape.”
“I’m buried alive, Rodney.” The idea of escaping was absurd.
“You have to. Because if you die…” Pain flashed briefly across Rodney’s face, a crumpled, sad look that almost never appeared, and always made John feel guilty.
Except this time. “I’ll be with you.” He stroked the back of his hand against Rodney’s cheek. “I’d be happy again.” He hadn’t been truly happy in years.
Rodney grasped his hand tightly. “As much as I enjoy being the object of your obsession, it’s not healthy.” He squeezed John’s fingers. “You have to let go.”
“I can’t.” He’d tried, he’d tried so hard. But someone had blown Rodney up in John’s car. It was a bomb that had been intended for him, and the guilt was something he couldn’t release.
“John-”
“Please, Rodney,” he squeezed against Rodney’s grip, “just let this happen.”
“No,” he said in that stubborn, ‘you’re an idiot’ tone that brokered no argument. “You need to live, and you need to get back to teaching, back to your life.”
“Not until I find them.” The ones who’d killed Rodney, tried to kill him. He’d searched long and hard, even going through the few files Rodney had kept at home with the monogrammed SGC imprint. He’d found a few leads, but the closer he came to each clue the more questions arose.
“This is the third time this year you’ve been in a near-death situation. I know your sense of self-preservation sucks, but this is ridiculous. Now you’re going to stop this detective nonsense, go back to your job, and find someone else.” Rodney frowned for a moment. “What about Carson? He’s kind of nice.”
“He’s not,” John fought for breath, the air getting thin, “sarcastic enough.”
“John? You have to stop talking. Okay? Save your breath.”
“I want,” another hard breath, his lungs burned at not receiving enough oxygen this time, “to see you again.”
“You have plenty of pictures, and don’t think I haven’t seen you sniff my preserved articles of clothing like some deranged stalker.” Rodney looked a little fuzzy now, but John felt himself smirk at the words. “Now shut up.”
“I-”
“No. Shut. Up.” John opened his mouth again, but before he could say anything Rodney was kissing him, the long, forceful kiss he used whenever he was losing an argument with John and wanted to try and make him forget. It never worked, but this time, this time John was more than eager to play along, and reached up to run his fingers through Rodney’s short hair, reveling in the feeling.
Then the burning in his lungs grew sharp as a gust of fresh air blew across him. “Sheppard! We need the medic!” It was Teyla’s voice, the general assistant and semi-nurse he had hired. “John? John, can you hear me?”
“Is he,” there was a confused tone from Captain Lorne, the local police chief, “smiling?”
John simply kept his eyes closed, remaining in his own mind for a few moments longer. It had been so real, but then, psychotic breaks, even tiny ones, often led to hallucinations. It wasn’t until Teyla stuck her fingers against his neck that he finally took a deep breath through his mouth and looked up into the blue sky, ignoring the concerned faces hovering over him.
One day, he’d do as Rodney asked and go back to the university. But only after he’d discovered who had destroyed his life, first. Kavanagh had been a dead end, but he had learned one thing from the dirty scientist. One clue that could potentially be the key.
Starting tomorrow, he and Teyla were going to begin investigating The Trust.
Author: Cypher
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Main Character(s): John Sheppard, Rodney McKay
Warnings: Character Death, Slash, Fusion AU
Rating: PG-13
Summary: "It was so hard to move on, without his husband."
Author's Notes: SGA/Monk fusion. I know there's a big one posted ("It's a Jungle Out There"), but I had a slightly...different take.
14 Valentines: Day 2 - Hunger
It was sunny, one of the later days in Colorado’s spring where it wasn’t too warm, and the cold nip had left the breeze. He was lying back on a soft wool blanket, the green one he’d inherited from his mother, with his hands behind his head and his t-shirt riding up enough to expose an inch of skin. Across the walkway, a couple of children were playing in a jungle gym, and the sounds brought a smile to his face as he rested his eyes.
“I hate picnics,” a gruff voice said beside him, a warm leg pressed against his denim covered thigh. It was warm enough he could’ve worn shorts, but there had been an accident with the vacuum cleaner and all he could wear without embarrassing stains were his jeans. “You know I took in way too much radiation today, plus there’s a dozen bees plotting my demise nearby, I can feel it.” A finger poked John in the ribs. “And there’s kids,” the last word was spoken like an epithet.
“I like kids,” John replied laconically, tilting his head and opening an eye to take in the view of his unofficial husband.
The broad-shouldered man let out a huff of air. “No. No, no, and, didn’t I say? No. We’ve had this discussion before. I work long hours and can’t stand them. We’re not getting one.” He narrowed his bright blue eyes at John. “And don’t you dare try to pout your way into getting one, either.”
“Rodney,” John drew out the name to almost three syllables, turning his head back towards the sky. “I don’t want kids.” Yet, he added silently. He was great with kids, and he did want his own, but like Rodney he didn’t have the time or energy to raise one. At least, not until he got tenure at the college.
There was a snort of derision. “Sure you don’t.” There were a few blessed moments of silence, a rare treat for John, since Rodney was an avid talker, even in bed. “ This is stupid, you know. We could be somewhere else, somewhere romantic, or educational, or maybe, you know, useful to your situation.”
John reached out and grasped one of Rodney’s shoulders, squeezing it. “I want this.” Another moment of silence, and then there was a warm body lying next to him, one of Rodney’s arms across his chest both possessive and gentle. It was exactly the way it should be, him and Rodney, spending time together. They got to do that so little ever since they moved to Colorado and Rodney got that new job at Cheyenne Mountain involving deep space telemetry.
“This is stupid,” Rodney said again. “Also, why they hell aren’t you teaching? Your little hiatus will ruin your rep as a tenured professor. You need to get back.”
“I can’t.” There was a bitterness to John’s tone. He didn’t want to talk about it. “Can we just-”
“No.” And then Rodney was leaning over him, a crooked scowl on his face. “You won’t teach, but you solve crimes in your spare time.”
“It pays the bills.” And it was fun, plus it took his mind off the school, off of everything. It wasn’t easy in his condition, but it helped him cope.
“It put you here,” Rodney said, eyes flashing darkly. “How long have you got?”
John shrugged one shoulder as he reached up to pull Rodney down. “I don’t know.’
Rodney didn’t budge. “Don’t play the idiot with me. Yes, you’re not a genius like me, but you’re smart; too smart to not know. Now how long?”
John let out a long breath through his nose, his hand stroking Rodney’s arm. “I dunno. Feels like your standard pine box so…maybe twenty minutes before all the oxygen is used up.” He actually knew the exact dimensions in his head because he’d seen the empty casket in the back of Kavanagh’s truck earlier.
“So stop talking and start conserving your breath, moron. You’ve got to live long enough for them to find you.”
John shook his head, once more resting his hand on Rodney’s back. “I don’t want to go.” He didn’t have to explain the why. He’d whispered ‘I miss you’ into Rodney’s pillow--preserved perfectly in a plastic slipcover--plenty of times for his partner to know. “Can’t we just enjoy the afternoon?” John looked past Rodney, to the kids. One of them, a blond girl with a propensity to jump off swings while they were high in the air, flew from her seat and landed in the arms of her father. “Why’d you have to go? We’d have made great parents.”
“You would’ve been a great parent. I would’ve been the breadwinner. And don’t try changing the subject, John Sheppard.” Rodney slapped him lightly on his chest. “Focus. You have to escape.”
“I’m buried alive, Rodney.” The idea of escaping was absurd.
“You have to. Because if you die…” Pain flashed briefly across Rodney’s face, a crumpled, sad look that almost never appeared, and always made John feel guilty.
Except this time. “I’ll be with you.” He stroked the back of his hand against Rodney’s cheek. “I’d be happy again.” He hadn’t been truly happy in years.
Rodney grasped his hand tightly. “As much as I enjoy being the object of your obsession, it’s not healthy.” He squeezed John’s fingers. “You have to let go.”
“I can’t.” He’d tried, he’d tried so hard. But someone had blown Rodney up in John’s car. It was a bomb that had been intended for him, and the guilt was something he couldn’t release.
“John-”
“Please, Rodney,” he squeezed against Rodney’s grip, “just let this happen.”
“No,” he said in that stubborn, ‘you’re an idiot’ tone that brokered no argument. “You need to live, and you need to get back to teaching, back to your life.”
“Not until I find them.” The ones who’d killed Rodney, tried to kill him. He’d searched long and hard, even going through the few files Rodney had kept at home with the monogrammed SGC imprint. He’d found a few leads, but the closer he came to each clue the more questions arose.
“This is the third time this year you’ve been in a near-death situation. I know your sense of self-preservation sucks, but this is ridiculous. Now you’re going to stop this detective nonsense, go back to your job, and find someone else.” Rodney frowned for a moment. “What about Carson? He’s kind of nice.”
“He’s not,” John fought for breath, the air getting thin, “sarcastic enough.”
“John? You have to stop talking. Okay? Save your breath.”
“I want,” another hard breath, his lungs burned at not receiving enough oxygen this time, “to see you again.”
“You have plenty of pictures, and don’t think I haven’t seen you sniff my preserved articles of clothing like some deranged stalker.” Rodney looked a little fuzzy now, but John felt himself smirk at the words. “Now shut up.”
“I-”
“No. Shut. Up.” John opened his mouth again, but before he could say anything Rodney was kissing him, the long, forceful kiss he used whenever he was losing an argument with John and wanted to try and make him forget. It never worked, but this time, this time John was more than eager to play along, and reached up to run his fingers through Rodney’s short hair, reveling in the feeling.
Then the burning in his lungs grew sharp as a gust of fresh air blew across him. “Sheppard! We need the medic!” It was Teyla’s voice, the general assistant and semi-nurse he had hired. “John? John, can you hear me?”
“Is he,” there was a confused tone from Captain Lorne, the local police chief, “smiling?”
John simply kept his eyes closed, remaining in his own mind for a few moments longer. It had been so real, but then, psychotic breaks, even tiny ones, often led to hallucinations. It wasn’t until Teyla stuck her fingers against his neck that he finally took a deep breath through his mouth and looked up into the blue sky, ignoring the concerned faces hovering over him.
One day, he’d do as Rodney asked and go back to the university. But only after he’d discovered who had destroyed his life, first. Kavanagh had been a dead end, but he had learned one thing from the dirty scientist. One clue that could potentially be the key.
Starting tomorrow, he and Teyla were going to begin investigating The Trust.