The Need for Speed by nudaydreamer (dating challenge)
Title: The Need for Speed
Author: nudaydreamer
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: R
Spoilers: none
A/N: Enormous gratitude to domtheknight for the beta, with apologies that there isn't more sex. Also thanks to foreverseenstar and wolfsavard for voting 'yes' in my gchat poll.
[1]
So Elizabeth decides to implement speed dating. She vehemently denies this accusation, but Rodney, being a genius, sees right through her.
"I'm going to be forced to sit at a small table and make small talk with someone who is less intelligent than I am and has almost no intention of having sex with me. What part of that doesn't sound like dating?"
Elizabeth grits her teeth. "Rodney, we're simply taking an opportunity to get to know the new personnel who are arriving on the Daedalus. I admit I was inspired by the format of so-called 'speed dating' events, but I believe it can be applied just as easily to building a network of trust among new colleagues. I assure you, forming... intimate relationships was the furthest thing from my mind."
[2]
So of course, John meets someone.
Rodney glares at them from across the mess hall the next day - John has his head thrown back, laughing that obnoxious laugh that's so inhuman they actually have to warn the new personnel about it, but Dr. O'Connell doesn't seem at all bothered. He's chuckling right along and stealing fries off John's plate and Rodney kind of wants to put a fork through his eye. What kind of person gets a doctorate in comparative religion, anyway?
The kind with tightly curled blond hair and a wide, straight mouth, broad, hulking shoulders, and hard, sculpted biceps that stretch the sleeves of his completely-not-standard-science-team shirt, apparently.
Rodney stabs a green stalk-y vegetable so hard that it skids off of his plate and hits a passing marine in the ankle. He doesn't apologize.
Suddenly they're everywhere. Every planet the team visits has some stupid temple or artifact or ceremony, and even though O'Connell looks like he eats Girl Scouts for breakfast, he seems to need John at his elbow everywhere he goes. In the locker room, Rodney will hear them calling across the shower partitions, making plans to watch a DVD later. Rodney works even later hours than usual, and pretends he doesn't see Zelenka's pitying looks.
"I noticed you and Dr. O'Connell have been chummy lately," he says to John, over the first meal they've had alone in weeks. He just said 'chummy.' He needs to get out more.
"Jake and I just like hanging out. We have a lot in common," John protests.
"Oh, right, because I know how much you enjoy unraveling the intricacies of the Bhagavad Gita."
"Okay, on the surface, not so much. But there's, y'know." John twirls his pasta with great concentration. "Stuff."
"Fine, whatever," Rodney says, because a familiar tall, blond figure has entered the room, and because he'll be damned if he has the patience to decipher John's secret military code right now. Besides, he's a grown man. He doesn't have to go home and flush his half of their BFF necklaces down the toilet or anything.
Instead, he goes looking for Ronon. He feels like hitting something, or at least exhausting himself in the attempt.
[3]
"You're dating him!" Rodney hisses sharply, pointed finger inches from John's nose.
John's fingers continue their steady progress along the barrel of his P-90, checking for... whatever it is he's always checking for when it looks like he's jerking off his guns, but Rodney swears the tips of his ears turn a little pink.
"I'm not... dating him, McKay."
"But you knew exactly who I was talking about, hmm?" Somehow, vindication isn't as sweet as he thought it would be.
"I assumed, possibly without cause, that you were talking about Jacob O'Connell, whom I am not dating."
"Right, you just sit together at every meal, and spend your days off exploring the city - and don't think I haven't seen you coming out of his quarters at three in the morning, looking like you've... well. Like you've been up to something!" Not that Rodney has been stalking John or anything. He just happens to have a lot of experiments that require all of the lab's computing power, so it makes sense to run them when no one else is there. And it's always a good idea to make sure that the life signs detectors are in working order.
"Up to something, huh? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" John's voice is all casual snark, but Rodney sees panic in his eyes. Well, it's either panic or subtle greenish-golden flecks, which is such a horrifyingly girly observation that Rodney kind of wants to throw up.
Instead he just glares pointedly. Finally John sighs and drops his voice. "Okay, fine, we're... dating. I have a boyfriend, and I met him at a U.S. military function. If we're going to discuss this, can we do it somewhere other than the gate room?"
"Oh." Rodney fidgets with a strap on his tac vest, and belatedly notices that Chuck is eyeing them suspiciously. "Sorry. And, um. Congratulations."
John flicks his ear, then grins and deftly adjusts the strap so the vest is no longer digging into his armpit. "Thanks, McKay."
[4]
"You're not dating him!" Rodney says triumphantly.
John is wearing low-slung jeans, his feet and chest bare, the angles of his displeased expression thrown into sharp relief by the harsh corridor lighting. "Do you want to come in, McKay?"
Rodney ignores the offer and puts his hands on his hips. "Dating is- is going to overpriced restaurants where you can't pronounce anything on the menu, and holding hands when it's 15 below and you just want to keep them in your pockets, and if you're lucky, you eventually get sex. If what you and Dr. O'Connor are doing is dating, you and I are dating. Were dating." Rodney stops suddenly. "Oh my God, were we dating?"
"No, McKay, we were not dating."
"Okay, good, because it would have been nice to get a memo or something. In any case, you're not dating O'Donnell."
"It's O'Connell - which you know perfectly well - and you're right. I'm not dating him."
"And another- wait, what?"
"Look, we fucking... we broke up, okay? God, what is this, a sixth grade dance?" John scowls, and Rodney looks past him into the room, noticing for the first time the bottle of liquor on John's nightstand, the dim lighting, the horrifying wail of some depressing country song in the background.
"Right," he says shortly. "Well, I'll just, um. Sorry. For the, uh. Sorry. Good night."
John sighs. "Goodnight, McKay."
[5]
"We were so dating!"
John doesn't even bother to respond, just steps back and lets Rodney storm past him into John's quarters.
"We were dating!" Rodney repeats as he turns to face John. "I mean, yes, there was decided lack of forced conversation and pretending to be interested in each other's boring stories, and, um, other things..."
"Yeah, about that." John advances on him slowly, a look in his eyes Rodney doesn't quite recognize but is willing to expend a lot of energy to put there every day for the foreseeable future. "If we were dating, why weren't we having sex?"
Rodney's mind is completely blank. He vaguely recalls having a plan about five minutes ago. "I don't know... maybe because... I'm straight?"
"Are you straight?" John asks, stopping inches from Rodney, heat radiating faintly from his body.
Rodney had a very well-thought-out answer to that before John showed up in his personal space. He swallows, hard. "...no?"
John bites his lip and Rodney can see the grin start to uncurl across his soft mouth. "Then I guess that's not the reason."
Rodney's back is pressed up against the wall, his hands in fists at his waist, just in case this is not exactly what it looks like. "I can't, um. I don't know what else it could be."
"You just keep thinking about it, then," John says, leaning in, evidence of his arousal snug against Rodney's own hardening cock as he places a soft kiss at the intersection of Rodney's neck and shoulder. "Let me know if you come up with anything."
[6]
"Does this mean we're dating again?" Rodney asks - okay, croaks - into the crease of John's hip, where he's currently burying his face. He doesn't remember what happened to their clothes, he's not sure whether it's still Tuesday, and he is fairly certain that he has come in his hair.
From a similar position toward the other end of the bed, John snorts. "Only if there's more sex this time."
Rodney doesn't think he'll have a problem with that.
Author: nudaydreamer
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: R
Spoilers: none
A/N: Enormous gratitude to domtheknight for the beta, with apologies that there isn't more sex. Also thanks to foreverseenstar and wolfsavard for voting 'yes' in my gchat poll.
[1]
So Elizabeth decides to implement speed dating. She vehemently denies this accusation, but Rodney, being a genius, sees right through her.
"I'm going to be forced to sit at a small table and make small talk with someone who is less intelligent than I am and has almost no intention of having sex with me. What part of that doesn't sound like dating?"
Elizabeth grits her teeth. "Rodney, we're simply taking an opportunity to get to know the new personnel who are arriving on the Daedalus. I admit I was inspired by the format of so-called 'speed dating' events, but I believe it can be applied just as easily to building a network of trust among new colleagues. I assure you, forming... intimate relationships was the furthest thing from my mind."
[2]
So of course, John meets someone.
Rodney glares at them from across the mess hall the next day - John has his head thrown back, laughing that obnoxious laugh that's so inhuman they actually have to warn the new personnel about it, but Dr. O'Connell doesn't seem at all bothered. He's chuckling right along and stealing fries off John's plate and Rodney kind of wants to put a fork through his eye. What kind of person gets a doctorate in comparative religion, anyway?
The kind with tightly curled blond hair and a wide, straight mouth, broad, hulking shoulders, and hard, sculpted biceps that stretch the sleeves of his completely-not-standard-science-team shirt, apparently.
Rodney stabs a green stalk-y vegetable so hard that it skids off of his plate and hits a passing marine in the ankle. He doesn't apologize.
Suddenly they're everywhere. Every planet the team visits has some stupid temple or artifact or ceremony, and even though O'Connell looks like he eats Girl Scouts for breakfast, he seems to need John at his elbow everywhere he goes. In the locker room, Rodney will hear them calling across the shower partitions, making plans to watch a DVD later. Rodney works even later hours than usual, and pretends he doesn't see Zelenka's pitying looks.
"I noticed you and Dr. O'Connell have been chummy lately," he says to John, over the first meal they've had alone in weeks. He just said 'chummy.' He needs to get out more.
"Jake and I just like hanging out. We have a lot in common," John protests.
"Oh, right, because I know how much you enjoy unraveling the intricacies of the Bhagavad Gita."
"Okay, on the surface, not so much. But there's, y'know." John twirls his pasta with great concentration. "Stuff."
"Fine, whatever," Rodney says, because a familiar tall, blond figure has entered the room, and because he'll be damned if he has the patience to decipher John's secret military code right now. Besides, he's a grown man. He doesn't have to go home and flush his half of their BFF necklaces down the toilet or anything.
Instead, he goes looking for Ronon. He feels like hitting something, or at least exhausting himself in the attempt.
[3]
"You're dating him!" Rodney hisses sharply, pointed finger inches from John's nose.
John's fingers continue their steady progress along the barrel of his P-90, checking for... whatever it is he's always checking for when it looks like he's jerking off his guns, but Rodney swears the tips of his ears turn a little pink.
"I'm not... dating him, McKay."
"But you knew exactly who I was talking about, hmm?" Somehow, vindication isn't as sweet as he thought it would be.
"I assumed, possibly without cause, that you were talking about Jacob O'Connell, whom I am not dating."
"Right, you just sit together at every meal, and spend your days off exploring the city - and don't think I haven't seen you coming out of his quarters at three in the morning, looking like you've... well. Like you've been up to something!" Not that Rodney has been stalking John or anything. He just happens to have a lot of experiments that require all of the lab's computing power, so it makes sense to run them when no one else is there. And it's always a good idea to make sure that the life signs detectors are in working order.
"Up to something, huh? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" John's voice is all casual snark, but Rodney sees panic in his eyes. Well, it's either panic or subtle greenish-golden flecks, which is such a horrifyingly girly observation that Rodney kind of wants to throw up.
Instead he just glares pointedly. Finally John sighs and drops his voice. "Okay, fine, we're... dating. I have a boyfriend, and I met him at a U.S. military function. If we're going to discuss this, can we do it somewhere other than the gate room?"
"Oh." Rodney fidgets with a strap on his tac vest, and belatedly notices that Chuck is eyeing them suspiciously. "Sorry. And, um. Congratulations."
John flicks his ear, then grins and deftly adjusts the strap so the vest is no longer digging into his armpit. "Thanks, McKay."
[4]
"You're not dating him!" Rodney says triumphantly.
John is wearing low-slung jeans, his feet and chest bare, the angles of his displeased expression thrown into sharp relief by the harsh corridor lighting. "Do you want to come in, McKay?"
Rodney ignores the offer and puts his hands on his hips. "Dating is- is going to overpriced restaurants where you can't pronounce anything on the menu, and holding hands when it's 15 below and you just want to keep them in your pockets, and if you're lucky, you eventually get sex. If what you and Dr. O'Connor are doing is dating, you and I are dating. Were dating." Rodney stops suddenly. "Oh my God, were we dating?"
"No, McKay, we were not dating."
"Okay, good, because it would have been nice to get a memo or something. In any case, you're not dating O'Donnell."
"It's O'Connell - which you know perfectly well - and you're right. I'm not dating him."
"And another- wait, what?"
"Look, we fucking... we broke up, okay? God, what is this, a sixth grade dance?" John scowls, and Rodney looks past him into the room, noticing for the first time the bottle of liquor on John's nightstand, the dim lighting, the horrifying wail of some depressing country song in the background.
"Right," he says shortly. "Well, I'll just, um. Sorry. For the, uh. Sorry. Good night."
John sighs. "Goodnight, McKay."
[5]
"We were so dating!"
John doesn't even bother to respond, just steps back and lets Rodney storm past him into John's quarters.
"We were dating!" Rodney repeats as he turns to face John. "I mean, yes, there was decided lack of forced conversation and pretending to be interested in each other's boring stories, and, um, other things..."
"Yeah, about that." John advances on him slowly, a look in his eyes Rodney doesn't quite recognize but is willing to expend a lot of energy to put there every day for the foreseeable future. "If we were dating, why weren't we having sex?"
Rodney's mind is completely blank. He vaguely recalls having a plan about five minutes ago. "I don't know... maybe because... I'm straight?"
"Are you straight?" John asks, stopping inches from Rodney, heat radiating faintly from his body.
Rodney had a very well-thought-out answer to that before John showed up in his personal space. He swallows, hard. "...no?"
John bites his lip and Rodney can see the grin start to uncurl across his soft mouth. "Then I guess that's not the reason."
Rodney's back is pressed up against the wall, his hands in fists at his waist, just in case this is not exactly what it looks like. "I can't, um. I don't know what else it could be."
"You just keep thinking about it, then," John says, leaning in, evidence of his arousal snug against Rodney's own hardening cock as he places a soft kiss at the intersection of Rodney's neck and shoulder. "Let me know if you come up with anything."
[6]
"Does this mean we're dating again?" Rodney asks - okay, croaks - into the crease of John's hip, where he's currently burying his face. He doesn't remember what happened to their clothes, he's not sure whether it's still Tuesday, and he is fairly certain that he has come in his hair.
From a similar position toward the other end of the bed, John snorts. "Only if there's more sex this time."
Rodney doesn't think he'll have a problem with that.