SLASH FIC: [Stargate: Atlantis] Food for thought (PG-13)
Takes place in the His Bodyguard universe
Title: Food for thought
Author: Soraya
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Pre-Slash, AU
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Disclaimer: Not mine, Wright, Cooper and others own Stargate Atlantis
Warnings: Unresolved sexual tension of the male/male variety
With all the time they were spending together, John expected to see some of McKay's weirder quirks. But since McKay was the kind of guy, who had quirks to spare, he actually got to see quite a few. Most of them were mildly annoying, and soon he and Teyla had a file full of ways to deal with those. Others were exceptionally annoying, and although he was still working on counter-measures, he felt pretty confident that, with his team, he would come up with something in the end.
Then there were the eccentricities he had no fucking idea how to handle, like the random acts of complaining, which had a tendency to go on for hours.
***
In the middle of lunch one day, McKay launched into the sort of unsolicited update about his latest project that made him stab his curried chicken in its non-existent neck.
"Can you believe they've sent me a new group of 'specialists'?" McKay added air quotes around the word. "Five of them! What am I supposed to do with five?" He slammed his fork down, clearly disgusted, and once again John thanked God he only had to guard the guy not work for him.
"Of course, now my lab is crawling with idiots," McKay went on bitterly. "God forbid I would get any real help, or even someone who could do anything useful. Really, is that too much to ask?"
John kept wondering the same thing. Ten relentless days of McKay complaining, which he'd basically handled all by himself . . ..
Frankly, the whole assignment was starting to get to him. He couldn't believe Teyla and Ronon still hadn't stepped up to the plate yet. They were supposed to be a team; it was time they did their share of the heavy lifting; and he just knew they were pretending not to get the scrunched up facial signals he kept sending them.
"This is a nightmare," McKay sighed dramatically.
"Yeah," John agreed, stabbing his chicken to death. Teyla wasn't even bothering to look at him any more, and he had no clue why Ronon thought this was the perfect time to wave a giant Twinkie right in McKay's face. By then, though, he just felt so relieved that someone on his team was finally doing something, no matter how bizarre it was, it took him a while to notice that McKay had actually stopped talking for a moment.
"Okay, why is he doing that?" McKay nudged him on the shoulder, apparently expecting him to have some insight into all things Ronon.
Which he didn't; he was just as confused as McKay was. He looked from McKay to the Twinkie and then back again, wondering what the hell Ronon was up to. Whatever it was, it was driving McKay crazy, as far as he could tell, since McKay now had his countdown to a meltdown face on.
"He doesn't seriously expect me to eat that, does he? Because I can tell just by looking at it that it's some low-grade American foodstuff. It's probably full of starch and lard. And, my God, how does eating those things not stunt his growth?"
Since he didn't have an answer for that, he responded with a mild shrug. Which Teyla, apparently, took as some sort of a hint to swap the Twinkie in Ronon's hand for her blue Jell-O pudding cup.
"I didn't say I wouldn't eat it!" And McKay promptly tried to snatch the Twinkie back. "Oh, so that's your plan, is it? You think you can distract me from a perfectly good snack with some sort of decoy pudding?"
Teyla snorted. Which made him spit the piece of chicken he'd just put in his mouth halfway across the table. Of course, that made McKay swivel round to glare at him.
"What? Oh, you think that's funny, do you, Major?"
He did, but something told him not to admit that. "Just take the damn Twinkie, McKay," he murmured, getting an outraged little huff for his pains. "Jesus! Fine! And the Jell-O too while you're at it."
McKay seemed slightly mollified by that, enough to do exactly what he was told for once, but he still looked confused and kind of pissed off. Which John knew wasn't going to do any of them any good. So he reached out and took the opportunity to squeeze McKay on the shoulder-to be supportive, he lied to himself, and not at all because the breadth of those shoulders had been haunting his dreams for days now. Besides, looking after McKay was hard work; he deserved a little treat for putting up with so much crap.
It got a little harder to play it cool after McKay bit into the Twinkie and then just beamed at him. But he was a soldier; he was great at compartmentalizing things.
"You know, this is actually quite good," McKay told him, still beaming.
And like the great soldier he was, he ignored the strange warmth spreading through his chest in favour of squeezing McKay's shoulder again.
He got a bit worried when his hand chose to ignore his brain's order to *stop touching McKay now* once the acceptable time-span for platonic shoulder squeezes had passed. And somehow, while McKay kept on eating, the squeezing turned into rubbing. Before he knew it, McKay had finished the Twinkie, had moved on to the Jell-O, and had started leaning quite blatantly into his hand.
"Hmmm, that's-could you-" all of a sudden, McKay hitched up even closer. So, he pressed in a little harder, making McKay sigh: "Oh that’s it, right there!"
After that, well, he couldn't just stop! Not with how demanding McKay was being about the whole thing. And it had absolutely nothing to do with how good McKay felt under his hands, or how good McKay smelled. So good he couldn't resist leaning in a little himself to breathe in the scent from McKay's hair. He let his other hand come up-to be extra supportive, he lied to himself again. And since McKay didn't seem to mind having both shoulders massaged, he dug in deep, rubbing and stroking and kneading to his heart's content.
"God, that's wonderful!" McKay let out another one of those blissful sighs. "Really, you should work more with your hands. Have I told you what great hands you have?"
"No," John croaked. He had no idea why his throat suddenly felt very tight.
"Well, you do," said McKay, writhing up against him, not helping at all with his throat-tightening problem. "You have wonderful hands, the best hands in the world. Also, have I mentioned what a wonderful team this is? All of you, really, you're just . . .."
McKay drifted off in a Twinkie, Jell-O induced, massaged haze.
***
It took someone nearby coughing very loudly to snap him out of his daze; and that was when he realized Teyla and Ronon were staring at him.
Immediately, he took his hands off McKay, who predictably just huffed before going back to stuffing his face-leaving him out there alone to face his team's judging eyes.
'What?' he mouthed at them, trying not to look like the guilty shoulder molester he was.
But Teyla just shook her head before making a note in the little 'McKay-dossier' she was building for the team. Once she'd finished, though, she gave him a speculative look. Then, she pulled out another notebook-her secret Teyla's private thoughts notebook, which she'd taken to carrying with her over the past few days-and promptly started scribbling things down there.
John was pretty sure he didn't want to know what the hell that was about.
The End.
Title: Food for thought
Author: Soraya
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Pre-Slash, AU
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Disclaimer: Not mine, Wright, Cooper and others own Stargate Atlantis
Warnings: Unresolved sexual tension of the male/male variety
With all the time they were spending together, John expected to see some of McKay's weirder quirks. But since McKay was the kind of guy, who had quirks to spare, he actually got to see quite a few. Most of them were mildly annoying, and soon he and Teyla had a file full of ways to deal with those. Others were exceptionally annoying, and although he was still working on counter-measures, he felt pretty confident that, with his team, he would come up with something in the end.
Then there were the eccentricities he had no fucking idea how to handle, like the random acts of complaining, which had a tendency to go on for hours.
***
In the middle of lunch one day, McKay launched into the sort of unsolicited update about his latest project that made him stab his curried chicken in its non-existent neck.
"Can you believe they've sent me a new group of 'specialists'?" McKay added air quotes around the word. "Five of them! What am I supposed to do with five?" He slammed his fork down, clearly disgusted, and once again John thanked God he only had to guard the guy not work for him.
"Of course, now my lab is crawling with idiots," McKay went on bitterly. "God forbid I would get any real help, or even someone who could do anything useful. Really, is that too much to ask?"
John kept wondering the same thing. Ten relentless days of McKay complaining, which he'd basically handled all by himself . . ..
Frankly, the whole assignment was starting to get to him. He couldn't believe Teyla and Ronon still hadn't stepped up to the plate yet. They were supposed to be a team; it was time they did their share of the heavy lifting; and he just knew they were pretending not to get the scrunched up facial signals he kept sending them.
"This is a nightmare," McKay sighed dramatically.
"Yeah," John agreed, stabbing his chicken to death. Teyla wasn't even bothering to look at him any more, and he had no clue why Ronon thought this was the perfect time to wave a giant Twinkie right in McKay's face. By then, though, he just felt so relieved that someone on his team was finally doing something, no matter how bizarre it was, it took him a while to notice that McKay had actually stopped talking for a moment.
"Okay, why is he doing that?" McKay nudged him on the shoulder, apparently expecting him to have some insight into all things Ronon.
Which he didn't; he was just as confused as McKay was. He looked from McKay to the Twinkie and then back again, wondering what the hell Ronon was up to. Whatever it was, it was driving McKay crazy, as far as he could tell, since McKay now had his countdown to a meltdown face on.
"He doesn't seriously expect me to eat that, does he? Because I can tell just by looking at it that it's some low-grade American foodstuff. It's probably full of starch and lard. And, my God, how does eating those things not stunt his growth?"
Since he didn't have an answer for that, he responded with a mild shrug. Which Teyla, apparently, took as some sort of a hint to swap the Twinkie in Ronon's hand for her blue Jell-O pudding cup.
"I didn't say I wouldn't eat it!" And McKay promptly tried to snatch the Twinkie back. "Oh, so that's your plan, is it? You think you can distract me from a perfectly good snack with some sort of decoy pudding?"
Teyla snorted. Which made him spit the piece of chicken he'd just put in his mouth halfway across the table. Of course, that made McKay swivel round to glare at him.
"What? Oh, you think that's funny, do you, Major?"
He did, but something told him not to admit that. "Just take the damn Twinkie, McKay," he murmured, getting an outraged little huff for his pains. "Jesus! Fine! And the Jell-O too while you're at it."
McKay seemed slightly mollified by that, enough to do exactly what he was told for once, but he still looked confused and kind of pissed off. Which John knew wasn't going to do any of them any good. So he reached out and took the opportunity to squeeze McKay on the shoulder-to be supportive, he lied to himself, and not at all because the breadth of those shoulders had been haunting his dreams for days now. Besides, looking after McKay was hard work; he deserved a little treat for putting up with so much crap.
It got a little harder to play it cool after McKay bit into the Twinkie and then just beamed at him. But he was a soldier; he was great at compartmentalizing things.
"You know, this is actually quite good," McKay told him, still beaming.
And like the great soldier he was, he ignored the strange warmth spreading through his chest in favour of squeezing McKay's shoulder again.
He got a bit worried when his hand chose to ignore his brain's order to *stop touching McKay now* once the acceptable time-span for platonic shoulder squeezes had passed. And somehow, while McKay kept on eating, the squeezing turned into rubbing. Before he knew it, McKay had finished the Twinkie, had moved on to the Jell-O, and had started leaning quite blatantly into his hand.
"Hmmm, that's-could you-" all of a sudden, McKay hitched up even closer. So, he pressed in a little harder, making McKay sigh: "Oh that’s it, right there!"
After that, well, he couldn't just stop! Not with how demanding McKay was being about the whole thing. And it had absolutely nothing to do with how good McKay felt under his hands, or how good McKay smelled. So good he couldn't resist leaning in a little himself to breathe in the scent from McKay's hair. He let his other hand come up-to be extra supportive, he lied to himself again. And since McKay didn't seem to mind having both shoulders massaged, he dug in deep, rubbing and stroking and kneading to his heart's content.
"God, that's wonderful!" McKay let out another one of those blissful sighs. "Really, you should work more with your hands. Have I told you what great hands you have?"
"No," John croaked. He had no idea why his throat suddenly felt very tight.
"Well, you do," said McKay, writhing up against him, not helping at all with his throat-tightening problem. "You have wonderful hands, the best hands in the world. Also, have I mentioned what a wonderful team this is? All of you, really, you're just . . .."
McKay drifted off in a Twinkie, Jell-O induced, massaged haze.
***
It took someone nearby coughing very loudly to snap him out of his daze; and that was when he realized Teyla and Ronon were staring at him.
Immediately, he took his hands off McKay, who predictably just huffed before going back to stuffing his face-leaving him out there alone to face his team's judging eyes.
'What?' he mouthed at them, trying not to look like the guilty shoulder molester he was.
But Teyla just shook her head before making a note in the little 'McKay-dossier' she was building for the team. Once she'd finished, though, she gave him a speculative look. Then, she pulled out another notebook-her secret Teyla's private thoughts notebook, which she'd taken to carrying with her over the past few days-and promptly started scribbling things down there.
John was pretty sure he didn't want to know what the hell that was about.
The End.