Sharing for Beginners, by Melannen
TITLE: Sharing for Beginners (This Is Not Happening challenge)
NOTES: Would be John/Rodney, except for how there's no sex involved at all. Nope. Not sexual in the least. Warnings for PWP, no sex whatsoever (nope!), overextended metaphors, and occasional lazy lapses into fanonicity. ~2,000 words.
SUMMARY: John and Rodney do some manly Kirk and Spock style bonding.
"Oh, for god's sake, Rodney, I did not have sex with Chaya on that planet."
"Right." Rodney stared at him. "Like you honestly expect me to believe that."
"No, really," John replied. "She took me down to her village, and we had a nice conversation, and she showed me this sharing thing they do, and that was it."
"Oh my god," said Rodney, wide-eyed. "You did have sex with her."
"It wasn't sex!"
"Oh, yes it was. I've read SG-1's mission reports. Major Carter did the same thing with her Ascended boyfriend, and it was definitely sex. Wait, wait, do Ancients have some sort of kink for Air Force majors or something? No, that's ridiculous, I bet it's just people I -"
"People you what?" asked John.
"Nothing," said Rodney.
"Hm," said John. They stared at each other for a minute. Rodney fidgeted.
"Seriously, Rodney, I can't speak for Carter, but what we did really wasn't much like sex at all. It was a ... spiritual thing. A mental thing. It was like, for a little while, we were the same person, but I was still myself too."
"You're trying to tell me it was a - a mind-meld."
"What?"
"A mind-meld. You know, like Kirk and Spock. 'My mind to your mind' and - "
"I know what a mind meld is, Rodney. And I'm getting really tired of the Star Trek references. It wasn't even funny the first time. And I can't believe you're trying to compare a transcendent, spiritual, . . . thing with a plot device from a corny sci-fi television show."
"So it was a mind-meld."
"No!" Now it was the Major fidgeting. "Okay, yeah, maybe. Anyway, it wasn't really like Kirk and Spock. It was more like, I dunno, Spock and T'Pring."
"Okay, one, you are such a dork to even know that in the first place, and two, oh my god, it was a sex thing!"
"No! That's not what I meant! Rodney!"
"Well, what did you mean?"
"I just - it's not like it was - like we were -" Sheppard stared at the ceiling for a bit. "She didn't have that much that she could share. I mean, it was cool and all - extremely cool - but inside her head it was all white space and shiny walls and it kind of smelled like lemon Pledge."
"Wow. Do you say that about all the girls you take on picnics?"
"Shut up, Rodney," he said, but he was grinning. He swung his legs around until he was sitting tailor fashion, and patted the bed in front of him. "C'mere, I want to show you something."
Rodney came over warily, but settled himself. "Show me what?"
"I've been practicing, and I think I've figured out how to do it."
"Practicing what?"
"What she did. You know, the sharing thing. I think I've got it down."
"What?!"
"I want to see if it works with another person. Here, put your hands here and here-" he tugged at Rodney's arms until they were sitting across from each other on the bed, with their hands clasped over each others' forearms.
Rodney resisted, but only halfheartedly. "This is a really stupid idea, Major."
"Why? I'm fine, aren't I? And it didn't hurt Carter, either."
Rodney wanted to say 'Yes, but presumably Chaya knew what she was doing,' but that would have meant saying something about her that resembled a compliment, which was, really, too much to expect of him. And it did sound, well, cool. Still, he tugged his arms out of position and said, "Listen, I know you can't resist poking at anything that's shiny, but I really think there's a better way-"'
"This isn't something that you'll be able to test in the laboratory. You know that, right, Rodney?" Yeah, he did. "We aren't anywhere near understanding the Ancient experiments that had to do with Ascension, and I know you want to find out about it as much as I do. C'mon," he coaxed. "Do it for science. Do it for me?"
Rodney closed his eyes. Opened them. "Fine," he said. "But I want to state for the record that if anything goes wrong that it was entirely your fault."
"Thanks, Rodney, that means a lot to me," Sheppard said, but Rodney could tell by the tilt of his head that he actually meant it, and it was that as much as anything --
Rodney grabbed his arms, took a deep breath, and said, "Okay, what else do I need to do?"
Sheppard shook his head. "Nothing. I'll be handling it all." He smirked. "You get to be the passive partner this time. Just relax, close your eyes, and think of Atlantis."
"Okay," said Rodney, and did it. Nothing happened.
Nothing still happened.
His knees hurt, and so did his back. He could hear Sheppard breathing across from him, slow and very regular, and feel the warmth of him through the sleeves of his shirt. His arms were slender but Rodney could feel the hardness of the muscle underneath, and Sheppard's hands on his own arms were warm and steady -
Rodney's eyes flew open suddenly. "Wait a minute, 'passive partner'? What the hell does that mean? I thought you said this wasn't a sex thing -"
Sheppard's grip got slightly tighter, and he opened one eye. "Rodney," he growled. "Being quiet might help, too."
"Oh, right," Rodney said, and closed his eyes again. He took a deep breath, and then another. Relax. Stop thinking. What was supposed to happen? Mind meld. Right. Sure. He'd always thought mind melds were cool. Like telepathy, except, you know, only with one person and only while you were touching, so it was conveniently limited. He wondered what it would feel like. He wondered if it would actually work. Of course it wouldn't work. This was ridiculous. He bet they looked silly. He felt silly. They probably looked like twelve-year-old girls swearing best friends forever or something. He himself blushing, his face getting hot, prickles on his hands . . .
No. That wasn't embarrassment. It was - it felt - electric - his eyes flew open, and they were glowing, fuzzy tendrils of soft white winding around the places where they touched, and John was flowing into him, carefully at first, one swift clear stream, familiar as his own blood, and then more and more, and he was flooded -
- flowing over all of the sharp broken bits of him, filling in the open places and smoothing over the hard ones, binding him together, cohesive, and more Rodney McKay than he had ever been before, one whole person with John Sheppard over him and around him and throughout him and inside him -
- warm at first, and shot through with light, with unexpected flashes of color flickering just out of reach, quiet and friendly on the surface but full of constant nervous motion and the sense of power being kept in check against itself, so Rodney made himself relax, solid and heavy, let himself sink, sifting down and in, to darker and cooler and calmer, the tension turning quiet and still and restful, but full of unexpected currents and traps and maybe danger, but he never thought of being frightened, because always in the distance there was something circling on guard, with very sharp teeth and ever-watchful eyes thinking always 'keep them safe' -
- and he sank even farther, down to the deep places of the slow, incomprehensible undercurrents, the dark so close it was like a lover and full of sparks of brilliant light moving in patterns and shapes of their own, alien maybe, but oh god, so beautiful, and Rodney slowly settled, and thought that maybe he could stay here forever, here where no one but he had ever been, had ever made it through, all the layers and layers of John above him, enfolding him, surrounding him, pressing him down -
- keeping him trapped and isolated and no way up and no one else, ever, and Rodney panicked, stopped thinking, tried to fountain up and up and couldn't, couldn't -
- and the panic caught, and suddenly John was trying to fracture, to splinter, come apart into pieces, wrong wrong wrong, and they were tearing at each other, pulling and shredding and No!
- and suddenly John went limp, leaned into Rodney's panic, and he was spinning and rising and thrown -
- back onto John's bed. Sitting cross-legged with his hands fallen limp on his lap, his wrists and knees gone numb, and his back still hurt, and he was pretty sure he was going to have a killer headache in about an hour. John was sitting across from him, on the edge of hyperventilating, staring at Rodney, and he looked like he was in shock; his eyes were nearly all black, and his even his hair looked wrung out.
"Um," John said, looking uncomfortable. "Wow. That was - um."
And Rodney suddenly remembered that this was the man whose default reaction to danger was flirting, and that any second now he was going to say something completely irredeemable, and interrupted, "That was utterly, absolutely amazing. Let's never, ever do it again."
John blinked at him, and then broke into a brilliant grin. "I knew there was a reason they call you a genius. Tell you what - let's be real men about this, and never ever talk about it again either."
"Deal!" said Rodney. He rubbed his hands on his pants (not that his hands were damp - they'd never been more dry in his life) and smiled brightly. "So, Zelenka told me that Simpson told him that Stackhouse told her that Bates challenged Halling to a boxing match tonight - wanna go watch him get creamed? Everybody else will be there."
"That is so beneath you, Rodney," John said, as he levered himself up and grabbed a jacket. "Besides, I'm his CO, it would be wrong to revel in his humiliation." He paused, leaning hipshot against the desk. "Will there be popcorn?"
Rodney rolled his eyes. "Of course. Would I even have suggested it if there wasn't?"
"Cool."
NOTES: Would be John/Rodney, except for how there's no sex involved at all. Nope. Not sexual in the least. Warnings for PWP, no sex whatsoever (nope!), overextended metaphors, and occasional lazy lapses into fanonicity. ~2,000 words.
SUMMARY: John and Rodney do some manly Kirk and Spock style bonding.
"Oh, for god's sake, Rodney, I did not have sex with Chaya on that planet."
"Right." Rodney stared at him. "Like you honestly expect me to believe that."
"No, really," John replied. "She took me down to her village, and we had a nice conversation, and she showed me this sharing thing they do, and that was it."
"Oh my god," said Rodney, wide-eyed. "You did have sex with her."
"It wasn't sex!"
"Oh, yes it was. I've read SG-1's mission reports. Major Carter did the same thing with her Ascended boyfriend, and it was definitely sex. Wait, wait, do Ancients have some sort of kink for Air Force majors or something? No, that's ridiculous, I bet it's just people I -"
"People you what?" asked John.
"Nothing," said Rodney.
"Hm," said John. They stared at each other for a minute. Rodney fidgeted.
"Seriously, Rodney, I can't speak for Carter, but what we did really wasn't much like sex at all. It was a ... spiritual thing. A mental thing. It was like, for a little while, we were the same person, but I was still myself too."
"You're trying to tell me it was a - a mind-meld."
"What?"
"A mind-meld. You know, like Kirk and Spock. 'My mind to your mind' and - "
"I know what a mind meld is, Rodney. And I'm getting really tired of the Star Trek references. It wasn't even funny the first time. And I can't believe you're trying to compare a transcendent, spiritual, . . . thing with a plot device from a corny sci-fi television show."
"So it was a mind-meld."
"No!" Now it was the Major fidgeting. "Okay, yeah, maybe. Anyway, it wasn't really like Kirk and Spock. It was more like, I dunno, Spock and T'Pring."
"Okay, one, you are such a dork to even know that in the first place, and two, oh my god, it was a sex thing!"
"No! That's not what I meant! Rodney!"
"Well, what did you mean?"
"I just - it's not like it was - like we were -" Sheppard stared at the ceiling for a bit. "She didn't have that much that she could share. I mean, it was cool and all - extremely cool - but inside her head it was all white space and shiny walls and it kind of smelled like lemon Pledge."
"Wow. Do you say that about all the girls you take on picnics?"
"Shut up, Rodney," he said, but he was grinning. He swung his legs around until he was sitting tailor fashion, and patted the bed in front of him. "C'mere, I want to show you something."
Rodney came over warily, but settled himself. "Show me what?"
"I've been practicing, and I think I've figured out how to do it."
"Practicing what?"
"What she did. You know, the sharing thing. I think I've got it down."
"What?!"
"I want to see if it works with another person. Here, put your hands here and here-" he tugged at Rodney's arms until they were sitting across from each other on the bed, with their hands clasped over each others' forearms.
Rodney resisted, but only halfheartedly. "This is a really stupid idea, Major."
"Why? I'm fine, aren't I? And it didn't hurt Carter, either."
Rodney wanted to say 'Yes, but presumably Chaya knew what she was doing,' but that would have meant saying something about her that resembled a compliment, which was, really, too much to expect of him. And it did sound, well, cool. Still, he tugged his arms out of position and said, "Listen, I know you can't resist poking at anything that's shiny, but I really think there's a better way-"'
"This isn't something that you'll be able to test in the laboratory. You know that, right, Rodney?" Yeah, he did. "We aren't anywhere near understanding the Ancient experiments that had to do with Ascension, and I know you want to find out about it as much as I do. C'mon," he coaxed. "Do it for science. Do it for me?"
Rodney closed his eyes. Opened them. "Fine," he said. "But I want to state for the record that if anything goes wrong that it was entirely your fault."
"Thanks, Rodney, that means a lot to me," Sheppard said, but Rodney could tell by the tilt of his head that he actually meant it, and it was that as much as anything --
Rodney grabbed his arms, took a deep breath, and said, "Okay, what else do I need to do?"
Sheppard shook his head. "Nothing. I'll be handling it all." He smirked. "You get to be the passive partner this time. Just relax, close your eyes, and think of Atlantis."
"Okay," said Rodney, and did it. Nothing happened.
Nothing still happened.
His knees hurt, and so did his back. He could hear Sheppard breathing across from him, slow and very regular, and feel the warmth of him through the sleeves of his shirt. His arms were slender but Rodney could feel the hardness of the muscle underneath, and Sheppard's hands on his own arms were warm and steady -
Rodney's eyes flew open suddenly. "Wait a minute, 'passive partner'? What the hell does that mean? I thought you said this wasn't a sex thing -"
Sheppard's grip got slightly tighter, and he opened one eye. "Rodney," he growled. "Being quiet might help, too."
"Oh, right," Rodney said, and closed his eyes again. He took a deep breath, and then another. Relax. Stop thinking. What was supposed to happen? Mind meld. Right. Sure. He'd always thought mind melds were cool. Like telepathy, except, you know, only with one person and only while you were touching, so it was conveniently limited. He wondered what it would feel like. He wondered if it would actually work. Of course it wouldn't work. This was ridiculous. He bet they looked silly. He felt silly. They probably looked like twelve-year-old girls swearing best friends forever or something. He himself blushing, his face getting hot, prickles on his hands . . .
No. That wasn't embarrassment. It was - it felt - electric - his eyes flew open, and they were glowing, fuzzy tendrils of soft white winding around the places where they touched, and John was flowing into him, carefully at first, one swift clear stream, familiar as his own blood, and then more and more, and he was flooded -
- flowing over all of the sharp broken bits of him, filling in the open places and smoothing over the hard ones, binding him together, cohesive, and more Rodney McKay than he had ever been before, one whole person with John Sheppard over him and around him and throughout him and inside him -
- warm at first, and shot through with light, with unexpected flashes of color flickering just out of reach, quiet and friendly on the surface but full of constant nervous motion and the sense of power being kept in check against itself, so Rodney made himself relax, solid and heavy, let himself sink, sifting down and in, to darker and cooler and calmer, the tension turning quiet and still and restful, but full of unexpected currents and traps and maybe danger, but he never thought of being frightened, because always in the distance there was something circling on guard, with very sharp teeth and ever-watchful eyes thinking always 'keep them safe' -
- and he sank even farther, down to the deep places of the slow, incomprehensible undercurrents, the dark so close it was like a lover and full of sparks of brilliant light moving in patterns and shapes of their own, alien maybe, but oh god, so beautiful, and Rodney slowly settled, and thought that maybe he could stay here forever, here where no one but he had ever been, had ever made it through, all the layers and layers of John above him, enfolding him, surrounding him, pressing him down -
- keeping him trapped and isolated and no way up and no one else, ever, and Rodney panicked, stopped thinking, tried to fountain up and up and couldn't, couldn't -
- and the panic caught, and suddenly John was trying to fracture, to splinter, come apart into pieces, wrong wrong wrong, and they were tearing at each other, pulling and shredding and No!
- and suddenly John went limp, leaned into Rodney's panic, and he was spinning and rising and thrown -
- back onto John's bed. Sitting cross-legged with his hands fallen limp on his lap, his wrists and knees gone numb, and his back still hurt, and he was pretty sure he was going to have a killer headache in about an hour. John was sitting across from him, on the edge of hyperventilating, staring at Rodney, and he looked like he was in shock; his eyes were nearly all black, and his even his hair looked wrung out.
"Um," John said, looking uncomfortable. "Wow. That was - um."
And Rodney suddenly remembered that this was the man whose default reaction to danger was flirting, and that any second now he was going to say something completely irredeemable, and interrupted, "That was utterly, absolutely amazing. Let's never, ever do it again."
John blinked at him, and then broke into a brilliant grin. "I knew there was a reason they call you a genius. Tell you what - let's be real men about this, and never ever talk about it again either."
"Deal!" said Rodney. He rubbed his hands on his pants (not that his hands were damp - they'd never been more dry in his life) and smiled brightly. "So, Zelenka told me that Simpson told him that Stackhouse told her that Bates challenged Halling to a boxing match tonight - wanna go watch him get creamed? Everybody else will be there."
"That is so beneath you, Rodney," John said, as he levered himself up and grabbed a jacket. "Besides, I'm his CO, it would be wrong to revel in his humiliation." He paused, leaning hipshot against the desk. "Will there be popcorn?"
Rodney rolled his eyes. "Of course. Would I even have suggested it if there wasn't?"
"Cool."