Untitled fic! by WesleysGirl (Amnesty challenge, ESP)

[wesleysgirl]

Amnesty challenge story
Untitled!
by wesleysgirl
Slash - McShep
Challenge: Amnesty -- ESP
Word Count: 4500
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not mine, and I'm oh so sad about it. Borrowed just for fun.
Unbetaed, because as you can see I'm just squeaking in under the deadline. I don't even have a title; suggestions welcomed gratefully.(Note: This has now been rewritten and expanded, and can be found here.)



"Um, Major?"

John didn't look up. "Yeah?"

"I... I think we might have a problem here."

There was something in McKay's tone that got John's attention; when he looked, Rodney had something small and oval-shaped in his hand. "What?"

Rodney shook his hand. "I can't put it down."

"What do you mean, you can't put it down?" John stood and moved toward him, reaching for Rodney's outstretched hand. He couldn't even get his own fingers wrapped around the object -- it was like it was glued to McKay's palm. "Here, just..." He tried to pry Rodney's fingers away from it, and a jolt like electricity went up his arm, making him let go in a hurry.

At the same time, Rodney yelped and jerked his hand back, cradling it to his chest and glaring at John.

"Okay, so we won't try that again," John said, flexing his own fingers and wondering what the hell this thing was.

"Well, if I'd known it was going to do this, I obviously wouldn't have picked it up," Rodney said irritably, just as the device detached itself from his hand and fell to the floor with a clatter. McKay looked at it and then up at John again. "Um, well. Problem solved."

"Don't touch it again," John said, frowning. "You okay?"

Rodney was examining his palm. "I seem to be, yes. That was weird."

"You think it's one of those activation things? Like that personal shield?" There were times John thought they shouldn't be messing around with all this stuff the Ancients had left behind, not when they didn't know what they were doing. He crouched down and looked at the device -- it really did look kind of like the personal shield had. Like a metallic representation of a beetle.

"No, all I did was pick it up," Rodney said. "And there's hardly any point in being here if we're not going to touch anything."

John found a scrap of fabric and put it over the device, picking it up gingerly and tucking it into the pocket of his vest. He hoped it wasn't going to blow up.

"It probably already would have by now, if it was some kind of hand grenade," Rodney said.

Startled, John looked at him. "What?"

"It already would have blown up." Rodney was looking back at him with a funny expression on his face. "Isn't that what you..."

"Said? No, but I was thinking it." John was thinking lots of things, and he wasn't sure he liked some of them. Was he that transparent?

"No, I just know you pretty well," Rodney said, smirking.

"I didn't say anything," John said.

Rodney frowned. "You didn't?"

"Well... not the part that you were responding to," John said. Okay, he was starting to get a little bit freaked out.

"Why? So you're projecting your thoughts -- it's not that big a deal. Maybe it's the device." Rodney gestured at John's vest pocket.

"You think?" Instead of trying to take the thing back out, John undid the front of the vest and shrugged out of it, lowering it to the floor and stepping backward half a step. He tried to think of something strange, something that Rodney couldn't possibly guess, and couldn't come up with anything but the image of a desert island, with the sand baked hard by the sun and a nice frothy coconut drink in his hand.

Rodney was smirking again, with his eyes a little bit crinkled up. It was a good look for him, no matter how much it sometimes annoyed John. "A pina colada? Interesting choice, Major. I wouldn't have pegged you for such a, shall we say feminine beverage."

"There's nothing girly about pina coladas," John snapped, before he even realized that this meant that if it was the device, it obviously didn't require any kind of physical contact. He frowned, running a hand through his hair. "Shit."

"Don't worry," Rodney said. "I'm sure we'll all find it very amusing, being able to hear every thought that flits its way through your mind for as long as this lasts."

The idea that the problem might be temporary was reassuring. "Look, let's just get back and figure out what this thing is, okay?"

"Okay." They started walking, and Rodney kept right on talking. Just like always. "Actually, this is the kind of thing that could come in useful. If we could get it to work on, for example, a Wraith, we could gather all sorts of information."

We'd have to know how it works first, John thought.

Rodney snorted. "I'm not worried about that; I'll figure it out. Don't I always?"

John rolled his eyes.

"I heard that," Rodney said.

"I didn't think anything!" John protested.

"Yes, you did." Rodney sounded smug instead of annoyed. It made John want to hit him. "Hey! I heard that, too. You'd better cut it out."

"I think about hitting you all the time," John said, as they reached a corridor that he was familiar with. Other things, too.

Rodney glanced at him. "Is that supposed to be reassuring?"

John sighed. "You could try being just a little bit nicer to me, you know. You think this is easy?"

"Yes, well, it's not going to be easy for everyone else who has to listen to your thoughts either, you know." They turned left at a juncture and headed toward the infirmary as if they'd actually discussed it.

Dr. Beckett was looking at something under a microscope when they went in. John thought, really hard, What's up, doc? in as Bugs Bunny-like a voice as he could manage, but Beckett didn't look up until Rodney cleared his throat.

"The Major seems to have a problem," Rodney said, gesturing at him.

"What would that be?" Beckett asked, sliding his chair away from the counter and looking at John expectantly.

"I seem to be, um... projecting my thoughts," John said. It sounded really stupid out loud like that, and he wished Rodney would rescue him from himself. "There was this device -- "

"We didn't think anyone else should touch it," Rodney broke in, and John felt a wave of relief. "First it stuck to my hand, and then when the Major went to get it off, it gave both of us a low-level electrical shock and then detached itself. And suddenly I could hear everything he was thinking, right down to the insults." He gave John a look that left John feeling unsettled.

"Has anyone other than Rodney heard your thoughts?" Beckett asked John, taking the vest from him and setting it down on the countertop gingerly before stepping closer and studying him carefully.

"I don't know," John said. He created a mental picture of tutu-wearing monkeys holding umbrellas and jumping around to the tune of 'Five Little Monkeys Jumping on the Bed.' "Can you hear that?"

"No," Beckett said.

"Be grateful," Rodney interjected. "The Major's mind is a scary, scary place."

"Come sit down," Beckett said, leading John over to a chair and pulling another one closer. He looked into John's eyes and ears, then said, "Open up and say 'Ah,' Major." John did, and Beckett peered inside before shaking his head. "Not that I expected to find anything. So it's just Rodney, then, as far as we know. Rodney, have you heard anyone else's thoughts? Other than Major Sheppard's?"

Rodney looked a little bit surprised by the question. "Not that I've noticed, no."

"Then it seems to me that this isn't just Major Sheppard's problem," Beckett said.

The look on Rodney's face as comprehension dawned was, John had admit, gratifying. It was nice to know he wasn't in this alone. John grinned, and Rodney rounded on him and snapped, "Oh, that's right, laugh it up. Ha ha."

"Hey, at least it's not just me!" John said. "And I wasn't laughing."

"Maybe not out loud," Rodney mumbled. "Okay, fine. There's got to be a way to stop this."

"I thought you said it wouldn't last," John protested, frowning.

"Well, it's a reasonable assumption to make, if the personal shield device is any indication." Rodney moved over to John's vest and opened the pocket he'd put the mind-reading device into, sliding his hand inside carefully.

"That might not be such a good idea, Rodney," Beckett said, going to him and putting a hand on his wrist.

"If it can get him out of my head, it's a very good idea," Rodney said.

John thought about asking if it was really all that bad, but didn't.

Still, Rodney withdrew his hand and turned the vest upside down instead, shaking it until the device slid out onto the countertop and skittered out of the scrap of fabric John had wrapped it in.

"It does look rather like the other one, doesn't it," Beckett said, slipping a glove on and poking the device gingerly a few times before picking it up. "Well, it seems as if it requires direct contact to activate it." He looked from Rodney to John. "You're both suspended from duty until this has been sorted out, of course."

"What?" John said.

"No, no, that's a good idea. It's not like I can be expected to perform at my standard level of genius with your thoughts zipping through my head like so many mosquitos." Rodney looked annoyed.

"Uh huh. So why can't I still work?" John asked.

"It's just better for all concerned," Beckett said, patting John's shoulder reassuringly on the way past. "Don't worry; I'm sure we'll get this figured out soon. I'll let Elizabeth know what's happened." Rodney had already turned and headed toward the door. "Oh, and Major Sheppard?"

"Yeah?"

"It might be wise to confine yourself to your quarters. Just for the time being." Beckett glanced up at him.

"Okay, okay. Fine," John said. "There's this book I've been meaning to read anyway." He went out into the hallway and looked around.

There was no sign of Rodney.

* * * * *

Two hours later, John had read more of War and Peace than he'd intended to read in the next two months, which put him way ahead of schedule. He thought about getting something to eat, but he wasn't really hungry. Elizabeth had come by to check on him shortly after hearing about what had happened, and he'd assured her that he was fine; that it was Rodney that seemed irritated by the situation and that maybe she should be checking on him instead.

He was trying not to think about Rodney too much, and told himself that it was because the last thing Rodney needed was an inflated sense of his own importance.

Having nothing better to do, John went to take a shower. He'd been under the water for a couple of minutes and was soaping his cock and balls, eyes half closed as he imagined that it was someone else's hand touching him. The camera in his mind panned up from a strong hand to a stocky forearm, then higher to a rounded shoulder, and then...

He heard the door to his quarters open and Rodney's voice, out of breath, saying, "All right, that's more than enough of that."

John turned, rinsing off the soap, and stepped out, grabbing a towel. The bathroom door was open, but he didn't care enough to cover himself. "Rodney? What's up?" he said slowly, drawling the words, letting the first syllable of Rodney's name have the most emphasis.

"What's up? What's up?" Rodney sounded agitated. "It's not bad enough that I had to spend the last two hours listening to your laborious and may I add repetitive absorption of War and Peace, but now I'm expected to sit around and listen to you jerk off?"

Unfazed, John shrugged and dried his chest off, feeling a "Sorry?"

"Oh, that's just great! You don't even know if you're supposed to apologize?" Rodney ran a hand through his hair and turned away as John started to dry his dick, which was still half-erect. "Stop it."

"Stop what?" John asked.

"Stop fucking with me!" Rodney snapped.

But I like fucking with you, John thought. Or at least I *think* I would.

Rodney's shoulders straightened slowly, his spine uncurling. Very, very slowly, he turned around. "What?" he said, eyes wide and worried.

"I'm pretty sure you heard me," John said.

"But you... you're not..." Rodney stammered, as John let the towel drop to the floor and walked to the doorway that separated them.

"I'm not what?" John asked.

Rodney swallowed, and then his tongue came out and wet his lower lip. "You're not..."

"Into guys?" John suggested quietly. "Attracted to you?" I'm pretty sure I am.

"Really?" Rodney asked. His pupils were huge.

"Really," John said, and stepped in closer and kissed him. Rodney's lips were surprised but eager against his, and John slid a hand down Rodney's back, pulling him in closer. It turned him on to find out that Rodney was as hard as he was. "I'm also pretty sure I figured out what's up," John murmured, grinning.

"Yes, yes, very funny," Rodney said, his usual snark resurfacing amidst the wonder in his voice. "I really can hear everything you're thinking, you know."

"Everything?" John asked, with his lips brushing Rodney's as he spoke.

"Mm hm," was all Rodney said, because they were already kissing again.

* * * * *

It was so weird. Not the kissing -- the kissing was great -- but the part about being able to hear the Major's thoughts. Earlier, while they'd been in the infirmary, Rodney had heard little glimpses of things that had confused and surprised him -- things about himself that didn't have anything to do with annoyance -- but they'd been so quick. There and then gone again before he'd been able to absorb them; so quick that he hadn't been sure if they were the kinds of thoughts John was even aware of. And then when Rodney had been in his quarters, and John had decided to take a shower, and his thoughts started to wander to places that just confirmed all those fleeting thoughts Rodney hadn't been sure about... well, Rodney hadn't thought for a second that John would actually admit to any of the things he'd been thinking.

John's hand slid down to Rodney's ass. God, you've got a great ass, John thought, and Rodney smiled against John's lips. John's mouth tasted fantastic, and the things he did with his tongue...

He'd almost forgotten that John was naked until the other man pulled back and his own hand slid down the bare skin of John's side. John looked at him, head tilted to one side. "See, now I wish I knew what you're thinking," John said.

"All kinds of things, I'm sure," Rodney said absently, running his hands up over John's chest. "Although I seem to be rather distracted right now, so maybe none of them are worth mentioning."

John's eyes closed. Yeah, like that. Just a little... Rodney followed the thought and brushed his thumbs over John's nipples, and John gasped and pressed closer.

They kissed some more, and somewhere along the way John managed to undo Rodney's pants and slip his hands down inside, squeezing Rodney's ass to an accompaniment of rapturous thoughts about how nice it was, none of which were things that Rodney didn't enjoy hearing. The best part was that everything he did -- every time he touched John, every square inch of skin he lavished attention on -- was similarly accompanied by wordless encouragement that allowed him to do everything right.

It was a heady, almost godlike feeling, and Rodney loved every minute of it.

John shoved Rodney's pants down and dropped down his knees, mouthing at Rodney's dick, licking it, until Rodney was whimpering embarrassingly and doing his best to stroke John's hair rather than clench his fist on it. He would have hoped that the distraction of the running soundtrack in his head -- which was, he realized, narrated by the Major himself, in that it was his actual voice Rodney heard -- Fuck yeah, knew he'd taste like this... god, this floor is hard... I wonder what he'd do if I... -- would have been enough to keep him from coming too soon, but that turned out to be a fruitless hope. Within minutes it was over, the hot rush of release so strong that Rodney's knees were like water as he gasped and panted his way through it.

He was grateful when John got up and guided him over to the bed. War and Peace was pushed unceremoniously to the floor with a muffled thud as Rodney lay down, his heart thundering in his chest and ears but not doing anything to dull the sound of John's thoughts, most of which were, unsurprisingly, centered around his cock.

"Hang on," Rodney said, still breathing heavily. "Just give me a second, and I'll..."

"Hey, it's okay," John said. "No hurry."

But Rodney wanted to. He pushed himself up onto one elbow and reached down with his other hand to touch John's erection, wrapping his fingers around it and stroking it slowly.

John groaned and shut his eyes. "God, Rodney. I knew you'd have great hands."

"Do I?" Rodney asked, pleased. "I mean, I suppose they're fairly dexterous, considering the main focus of my work, but no one's ever called them..." He trailed off as he watched the almost unbearably sexy sight of John's cock working back and forth through his grip.

Oh, yeah. Great hands, John thought. "Yeah..."

With the Major's thoughts guiding him, it was the one of the easiest things Rodney had ever done to coax John into a state of near-frenzy. Rodney found himself lying halfway down the bed with John's dick in his mouth, the soft skin over hardened flesh delicate and salty tasting on his tongue.

Fuck. Fuck, oh fuck, yes, please...

Rodney sucked harder and John cried out and arched up off the mattress, quivering.

God... yes... just a little bit more...

And Rodney knew exactly what that little bit was, and it was so easy to give John what he needed when he was broadcasting it loud and clear. The press of Rodney's index finger back behind John's balls, which were drawn up tight, and John made a sound like a strangled sob and came in Rodney's mouth, the taste of him sharp and rich and perfect.

The room was quiet as the sound of John's breathing evened out, and then gradually John fell asleep, and Rodney's head was quiet, too.

* * * * *

At first, Rodney thought he was in his own bed. It took considerably more time than it should have for him to realize that he wasn't, and even more than that for him to force himself awake the rest of the way awake, relief flooding him as reality settled in.

A reality that included a naked John Sheppard in bed beside him.

Rodney was lying on his back, and John was on his side, facing away from Rodney. The bed was narrow enough that they were pressed up against each other. Rodney hitched himself onto his side and put his arm around John's waist. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah," John said, but he didn't sound it, and the maelstrom of thoughts swirling around in his -- and Rodney's -- brain was enough to make Rodney tighten his grip.

"I can still tell what you're thinking," Rodney said, in case John thought that it might have worn off while they were sleeping.

"I know." John's voice was as flat as Rodney had ever heard it.

If it had been anyone else, Rodney would have been tempted to make excuses and get the hell out of there as fast as he could. He was still tempted. But instead, he made himself shift back and then turn John around with determined hands that refused to take 'no' for an answer. "Hey," he said, which admittedly as small talk went fell short of the mark, but by then John's thoughts had separated themselves out enough that Rodney was too busy dealing with them to say anything else.

John was waiting for Rodney to make excuses and leave. John thought that sooner or later, and usually sooner, anyone who spent the night with him was going to move on, pleased with themselves for their conquest but uninterested in anything more than a small handful of encounters.

They weren't loud thoughts. Rodney didn't think they were even conscious thoughts, not really, and that was what made them so... well, disturbing. He'd always thought that the Major's obvious self-confidence was the result of some sort of deep-seated belief in his inherent worth as a person, but now Rodney wasn't sure what to think.

Well, other than all the things John was thinking.

It's okay. No big deal. You can't let stuff get to you.

"Is it really that easy?" Rodney asked. Being able to hear John was strangely more intimate than lying naked next to him.

"Look, let's not do this, okay?" John said, pulling away and getting up. He found a pair of pants and pulled them on.

"You're the one projecting his thoughts into my head," Rodney protested, sitting up with both hands holding onto the edge of the mattress.

John's hair was sticking up in about a million different directions. It looked unbelievably stupid. "Yeah, well I'm not doing it on purpose, so why don't you give me a break and get the hell out of here?"

Rodney gaped at him. "What?"

"Oh, didn't you hear me?" John said, but the anger that had been in his voice had faded and been replaced with something that sounded more like depression. It was an emotion that Rodney refused to acknowledge in himself, but that didn't mean he didn't recognize it. "Go on," John said, shoulders slumping. He looked smaller; as if everything that made him seem larger than life was somehow missing. "Get out of here."

Don't go.

"If you're looking for someone to fool, Major, I'd suggest you aim in a different direction," Rodney said, trying to sound detached, which was basically the last thing he was feeling. "Or indeed in any direction other than mine under the current circumstances." He crossed his arms over his chest, not realizing until it was too late how ridiculous that probably looked considering he was naked. "I'm not leaving."

John dropped his face down into his hand. "Rodney..."

"Yes?" Rodney said brightly.

"Give me a break, okay?" God, I hate this part.

"If you hate it so much then perhaps you should stop going to such an inordinate amount of trouble to manufacture it," Rodney suggested. "I'm not leaving. And neither are you," he added quickly.

John sighed. "Okay... since you seem to know everything that's going to happen, why don't you do me a favor and tell me?"

"You already think you know what's going to happen," Rodney pointed out.

"You never stop talking, do you," John said. I love it, he thought bleakly.

As a way of shutting Rodney up, it worked spectacularly. He opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. At no point did he have any idea what he was going to say if he managed to get his vocal chords to function. Finally, he stammered, "I... I..." He cleared his throat. "Well. Apparently sometimes I do."

John looked down at the floor and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "You think I'm being a real asshole."

Rodney feigned astonishment. "Oh my god! You can read my mind too?"

"Shut up," John said, with a hint of a grin that only touched one corner of his mouth.

Standing, Rodney walked over to John and put a hand on the side of his face and kissed him, because it was inconceivable not to. "You don't want me to shut up," he said.

"No," John agreed, defeated and elated at the same time, the wave of emotion rushing through Rodney like a relief he hadn't been aware he needed.

"And I'm not leaving," Rodney said. "Not unless you can tell me that you really, honestly, genuinely want me to."

John shook his head. "I don't. You know that."

"Yeah, I do," Rodney said. And then, because it wasn't fair not to tell John what he was thinking when he already knew everything John was thinking, he added, "I like you, okay? This wasn't about me trying to see if I could get you into bed, although I'm not going to deny that I'm happy that's where we ended up. And now that we have spent a night together, I haven't lost interest."

You still might, John thought.

"And I still might not," Rodney said. "I thought I was the negative one in this equation."

"No; you just get really wound up under pressure," John said. "But then you usually come through for us, too, so..."

"Usually?" Rodney gasped. "Oh, Major, I'm wounded. Truly."

John put an arm around Rodney's waist tentatively. "Liar."

"You'll never know, will you?" Rodney asked, and then they were kissing again, and for a while none of the rest of it mattered.