Fic: Magic Number (Lorne/McKay/Sheppard, R)
Title: Magic Number
Author: moonlettuce
Recipient: sexycazzy
Pairing: Lorne/McKay/Sheppard
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,433
Warnings: None
Summary: The entire universe is conspiring against him...
Notes: I completely failed at writing your AU fic, so here, have an Ancient Sex Device Made Them Do It instead.
Magic Number
The entire universe, Evan decides, sitting in the mess and ignoring the whispered conversations going on around him, is conspiring against him. One big plot to get him where he is now - screwed over, thoroughly fucked, and pretty sure he's about to be shipped back to Earth the next time the Daedalus lands.
If he tracks it back, it's all Woolsey's fault. After all, Woolsey was the one who sent his team to P3X-457, which was where Parrish managed to twist his ankle. Parrish twisting his ankle was what led to the decision to give his team a couple of weeks downtime. A decision that was also made by Richard Woolsey. ("Your team's worked so hard, Major Lorne, it'll be nice to have some time off, surely...")
Although, thinking about it, Woolsey only sent them to P3X-457 because Davidson's team couldn't go due to them all having had the tastes-like-chicken-but-isn't-really-and-is-completely-the-wrong-colour-but-if-you-close-your-eyes-it's-kind-of-similar casserole that had been served for first sitting the day before they were scheduled to go through the gate. Cue copious rounds of vomiting and the entire team being four of several people that had spent the night in the infirmary, and the decision had been made to send Evan's team through instead.
So, maybe that meant the kitchen staff were ultimately responsible for his current situation. Or, at least, the person who decides the menus. Tapping his fork against the side of his plate, Evan glances up to where people are being served, wondering if the menus are run by Woolsey before being finalised.
Deciding that they probably are, Evan reckons he can continue with his entire This is all Woolsey's fault train of thought. Of course, he's so busy wondering exactly why Woolsey seems to have it in for him that he completely misses the sudden drop in the surrounding conversations, completely misses the fact that most of the mess has gone silent until he realises someone's standing next to his table.
"Mind if I join you, Major?" Sheppard asks.
"Feel free, sir," Evan replies, wondering if he's imagining the look on Sheppard's face. The look that says he doesn't know if Evan is going to agree to him sitting down or just walk out of the mess.
Ten minutes later Evan's starting to think he made the wrong decision and he should have just left Sheppard with the table and gone. It's silent and tense and awkward, and he hasn't been at a meal like this since the family Christmas back in '98 when his aunt told everyone over the turkey Uncle Mike was an idiot, she'd been sleeping with the guy next door, and could somebody please pass the carrots. Only in this case, the guy next door is McKay, Sheppard certainly isn't asking for a divorce, and Evan has the unfortunate feeling that he's actually the carrots.
"Oh god, Zelenka was right--"
Great, this is just what he needs. Because it wasn't enough that the universe decided to give him Sheppard right now, it had to throw McKay between them, as well.
"Jesus, Lorne, just fuck me--"
And, yes, thinking of throwing McKay between the two of them given the situation was a really stupid thing to do. Because now his mind is stuck on a replay of what his brain has taken to calling The Incident. Stuck on the taste of Sheppard's lips and the way McKay shuddered as Evan ran fingers down his spine.
Which is ridiculous, because he shouldn't know that shit. He shouldn't know that Sheppard bites his lower lip when his dick is sucked, or know about the tiny whimper McKay makes when you push into him.
"'They're just sitting there, not looking at each, Rodney,' he said," McKay continues, seemingly oblivious to the Technicolor rerun of the three of them that's running through Evan's head. "And here you are. Just sitting here. Not looking at each other." McKay glares at both of them.
"Rodney--"
But McKay ignores Sheppard, just continues speaking. "Look, we're not the first guys to be whammied into a threesome by an Ancient sex device." The words trail off slightly as a thoughtful look crosses McKay face. "Okay, so we probably are the first three guys to be whammied into a threesome by an Ancient sex device, but you know what I mean."
Scarily, Evan does, and he's not sure if that says more about him or about McKay.
"Rodney's right." Sheppard's voice is low, careful, like he's trying not to be overheard by the dozen or so people around them who are probably all straining to hear exactly what's being said so they can report it back to the Atlantis gossip mill. A News at Ten: Sheppard, McKay and Lorne together in the mess to go along with the Breaking News: Three of Atlantis's chain of command found in compromising position--
"We can't go on like this," Sheppard continues.
"Go on like what, sir?" Because they're fine, they are. And, so long as Evan ignores the fact that he wakes up in a sweat every night, hard and with a different name on his lips every other time, they'll continue to be fine.
"You can't even look me in the face, Lorne."
Because every time he does, he sees dark eyes widening and lips parting slightly and remembers what it was like when his commanding officer came apart under his hands.
"Is it the guy thing?" Rodney asks. "Because I may think it's ridiculously heterosexual of you, but I can sort of understand if it is."
And, Christ, McKay has to pick now to become sympathetic to someone's feelings. "It's not that." It was never that.
There's an intake of breath from Sheppard, and Evan can hear the frustration in his tone. "Then what is it? Why can't you--"
"I want to do it again!" And, wow, Evan never actually planned on ever saying that, but it's kind of worth it, just to see Rodney McKay speechless.
"What?" Because Sheppard looks like he's pretty sure what Evan just said wasn't really what Evan just said. But it was.
"I said," Evan repeats slowly, "that I want to do it again." His voice is low enough that it shouldn't carry, but there's part of him past caring. He's held this in for three fucking weeks and damn if it doesn't feel good to finally say it. "I close my eyes and I can hear you, both of you. I can't look at you, sir, because all I can remember is your hands--" Warm and tight and perfect as they wrapped around his cock, and the slow, languid slide of skin against skin. He looks at McKay. "Your voice--" Low and wrecked and fucking begging, and all Evan can hear is Please, oh god, just, please-- "Both of you-- the three of us-- It's--"
So, yeah, he wants it. Damned if he's going to get it, though. Not again. One time only deal; thanks, Atlantis, much appreciated. And if he uses the memory to jerk off to every night then who the fuck has a right to say anything about it.
Pushing his chair back from the table, Evan stands up, looking down as Sheppard's fingers wrap around his wrist, warm and there. "Sir?"
"I think," Sheppard says, eyes crinkling slightly as he smiles, "that we're past the stage where you can call me John." His thumb is on Evan's wrist.
"You know what I think?" McKay comments, eyes fixed on where John is rubbing small circles into Evan's skin.
"What?" Evan asks, ignoring the smirk on John's face at the hitch in his breath.
"That this is really the wrong place to be having this conversation."
Evan's gaze flicks around the room. There are less people than there were before, but there's still too many. Too many and most of them trying not to look like they're focused on them, trying not to look like they're talking about exactly what's going on between the three of them.
John's smile widens. "You're right, Rodney, this really isn't the place we want to be right now."
He doesn't let go of Evan's wrist as they walk out of the mess.
~
Like most things that occur in the Pegasus Galaxy, it happened when they were least expecting it. But really, Evan thinks, as he skims a hand over Rodney's back, feeling the faint trembling running through him; as he feels John behind him, fingers ghosting over his ass and a kiss pressing against his shoulder, it was actually the perfect time.
Author: moonlettuce
Recipient: sexycazzy
Pairing: Lorne/McKay/Sheppard
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,433
Warnings: None
Summary: The entire universe is conspiring against him...
Notes: I completely failed at writing your AU fic, so here, have an Ancient Sex Device Made Them Do It instead.
Magic Number
The entire universe, Evan decides, sitting in the mess and ignoring the whispered conversations going on around him, is conspiring against him. One big plot to get him where he is now - screwed over, thoroughly fucked, and pretty sure he's about to be shipped back to Earth the next time the Daedalus lands.
If he tracks it back, it's all Woolsey's fault. After all, Woolsey was the one who sent his team to P3X-457, which was where Parrish managed to twist his ankle. Parrish twisting his ankle was what led to the decision to give his team a couple of weeks downtime. A decision that was also made by Richard Woolsey. ("Your team's worked so hard, Major Lorne, it'll be nice to have some time off, surely...")
Although, thinking about it, Woolsey only sent them to P3X-457 because Davidson's team couldn't go due to them all having had the tastes-like-chicken-but-isn't-really-and-is-completely-the-wrong-colour-but-if-you-close-your-eyes-it's-kind-of-similar casserole that had been served for first sitting the day before they were scheduled to go through the gate. Cue copious rounds of vomiting and the entire team being four of several people that had spent the night in the infirmary, and the decision had been made to send Evan's team through instead.
So, maybe that meant the kitchen staff were ultimately responsible for his current situation. Or, at least, the person who decides the menus. Tapping his fork against the side of his plate, Evan glances up to where people are being served, wondering if the menus are run by Woolsey before being finalised.
Deciding that they probably are, Evan reckons he can continue with his entire This is all Woolsey's fault train of thought. Of course, he's so busy wondering exactly why Woolsey seems to have it in for him that he completely misses the sudden drop in the surrounding conversations, completely misses the fact that most of the mess has gone silent until he realises someone's standing next to his table.
"Mind if I join you, Major?" Sheppard asks.
"Feel free, sir," Evan replies, wondering if he's imagining the look on Sheppard's face. The look that says he doesn't know if Evan is going to agree to him sitting down or just walk out of the mess.
Ten minutes later Evan's starting to think he made the wrong decision and he should have just left Sheppard with the table and gone. It's silent and tense and awkward, and he hasn't been at a meal like this since the family Christmas back in '98 when his aunt told everyone over the turkey Uncle Mike was an idiot, she'd been sleeping with the guy next door, and could somebody please pass the carrots. Only in this case, the guy next door is McKay, Sheppard certainly isn't asking for a divorce, and Evan has the unfortunate feeling that he's actually the carrots.
"Oh god, Zelenka was right--"
Great, this is just what he needs. Because it wasn't enough that the universe decided to give him Sheppard right now, it had to throw McKay between them, as well.
"Jesus, Lorne, just fuck me--"
And, yes, thinking of throwing McKay between the two of them given the situation was a really stupid thing to do. Because now his mind is stuck on a replay of what his brain has taken to calling The Incident. Stuck on the taste of Sheppard's lips and the way McKay shuddered as Evan ran fingers down his spine.
Which is ridiculous, because he shouldn't know that shit. He shouldn't know that Sheppard bites his lower lip when his dick is sucked, or know about the tiny whimper McKay makes when you push into him.
"'They're just sitting there, not looking at each, Rodney,' he said," McKay continues, seemingly oblivious to the Technicolor rerun of the three of them that's running through Evan's head. "And here you are. Just sitting here. Not looking at each other." McKay glares at both of them.
"Rodney--"
But McKay ignores Sheppard, just continues speaking. "Look, we're not the first guys to be whammied into a threesome by an Ancient sex device." The words trail off slightly as a thoughtful look crosses McKay face. "Okay, so we probably are the first three guys to be whammied into a threesome by an Ancient sex device, but you know what I mean."
Scarily, Evan does, and he's not sure if that says more about him or about McKay.
"Rodney's right." Sheppard's voice is low, careful, like he's trying not to be overheard by the dozen or so people around them who are probably all straining to hear exactly what's being said so they can report it back to the Atlantis gossip mill. A News at Ten: Sheppard, McKay and Lorne together in the mess to go along with the Breaking News: Three of Atlantis's chain of command found in compromising position--
"We can't go on like this," Sheppard continues.
"Go on like what, sir?" Because they're fine, they are. And, so long as Evan ignores the fact that he wakes up in a sweat every night, hard and with a different name on his lips every other time, they'll continue to be fine.
"You can't even look me in the face, Lorne."
Because every time he does, he sees dark eyes widening and lips parting slightly and remembers what it was like when his commanding officer came apart under his hands.
"Is it the guy thing?" Rodney asks. "Because I may think it's ridiculously heterosexual of you, but I can sort of understand if it is."
And, Christ, McKay has to pick now to become sympathetic to someone's feelings. "It's not that." It was never that.
There's an intake of breath from Sheppard, and Evan can hear the frustration in his tone. "Then what is it? Why can't you--"
"I want to do it again!" And, wow, Evan never actually planned on ever saying that, but it's kind of worth it, just to see Rodney McKay speechless.
"What?" Because Sheppard looks like he's pretty sure what Evan just said wasn't really what Evan just said. But it was.
"I said," Evan repeats slowly, "that I want to do it again." His voice is low enough that it shouldn't carry, but there's part of him past caring. He's held this in for three fucking weeks and damn if it doesn't feel good to finally say it. "I close my eyes and I can hear you, both of you. I can't look at you, sir, because all I can remember is your hands--" Warm and tight and perfect as they wrapped around his cock, and the slow, languid slide of skin against skin. He looks at McKay. "Your voice--" Low and wrecked and fucking begging, and all Evan can hear is Please, oh god, just, please-- "Both of you-- the three of us-- It's--"
So, yeah, he wants it. Damned if he's going to get it, though. Not again. One time only deal; thanks, Atlantis, much appreciated. And if he uses the memory to jerk off to every night then who the fuck has a right to say anything about it.
Pushing his chair back from the table, Evan stands up, looking down as Sheppard's fingers wrap around his wrist, warm and there. "Sir?"
"I think," Sheppard says, eyes crinkling slightly as he smiles, "that we're past the stage where you can call me John." His thumb is on Evan's wrist.
"You know what I think?" McKay comments, eyes fixed on where John is rubbing small circles into Evan's skin.
"What?" Evan asks, ignoring the smirk on John's face at the hitch in his breath.
"That this is really the wrong place to be having this conversation."
Evan's gaze flicks around the room. There are less people than there were before, but there's still too many. Too many and most of them trying not to look like they're focused on them, trying not to look like they're talking about exactly what's going on between the three of them.
John's smile widens. "You're right, Rodney, this really isn't the place we want to be right now."
He doesn't let go of Evan's wrist as they walk out of the mess.
~
Like most things that occur in the Pegasus Galaxy, it happened when they were least expecting it. But really, Evan thinks, as he skims a hand over Rodney's back, feeling the faint trembling running through him; as he feels John behind him, fingers ghosting over his ass and a kiss pressing against his shoulder, it was actually the perfect time.