SGA Fic: Congruencies (Rodney/Ronon)
Title: Congruencies
Fandom: Atlantis
Pairing: Rodney/Ronon
Length: 1200 words
Summary: Ronon spends three days almost dying while Rodney rewires the personal network storage system on Atlantis.
Notes: In my head, this is somewhat of a sequel to Anomalies. In reality, it's a stand alone fic. *g*
Hugs to AudraRose for above-and-beyond beta duties. :D
Congruencies by Sori
Ronon spends three days almost dying while Rodney rewires the personal network storage system on Atlantis. He frees up 250 gigs of storage space for letters and pictures and porn, and five minutes after he routes the last data line, 100 downloads immediately start between network computers. The command center practically goes into orgasmic bliss.
Soldiers start walking down the hall toward him, slapping him on the back, and starting to say, "Hey Dr. McKay, that was-" before he calls them morons and stomps off in the other direction.
Beckett has to defibrillate Ronon twice.
It's not like it's that big of a deal. Ronon's been with them three years and counting, and he's almost died a dozen times: gun shots and knife wounds and poison darts and that one incident with ice cubes and carbon and an angry alien spinster. That's less than Sheppard, but more than anyone else on Atlantis.
But somehow in the months they've been sharing a bed, things have changed, enough that sleeping together no longer means just sex, sometimes it means clothes and sleep and very little touching beyond Rodney shoving Ronon over to his side of the bed.
Things have shifted, fundamentally and completely, and Rodney thinks that's probably something Ronon should know.
At least, before he dies in any painfully permanent way.
**
Three days after they haul Ronon back through the gate, it's Rodney's shift to sit and keep the almost-dead company. He's sitting on the chair next to the bed, laptop open, reading Parrish's latest attempt at a field report. Mostly, he's using the track changes to educate Parrish on the practical aspects of missions with comments like: where exactly did you get that PhD again?
When Ronon wakes up, he opens his eyes slowly, and mumbles something that sounds a lot like, "McKay."
Rodney looks up and glares.
"Finally," he says, pushing the mouse button on his keyboard and opening up the next field report. "You'd think you'd be smart enough to not fall down a cliff. Brilliant."
And Ronon smiles a little, like he heard just what he needed to hear, and waves his hand at Rodney as he settles back into the bed. Rodney doesn't look up from his work until Ronon's snoring softly. Rodney can't help but think the snoring's good. It's better than the deathly quiet, at least.
He closes his eyes, listening to Ronon's soft snores, the steady beep-beep of the heart monitor, the electric hum of medical equipment, trying desperately not to think of steep cliffs and a broken, bloody body.
***
It's another day before Ronon wakes up long enough to sit up and notice the world around him. Sheppard and Teyla descend upon him, telling him embarrassing stories of Rodney and his quest for more porn storage among the troops. Rodney figures he should probably be pissed except Ronon's laughing and breathing and looking nowhere near death.
"Porn? There's porn on Atlantis?" Ronon finally asks shocked. "And you've been making me watch football?"
Rodney snorts and flops down heavily on a chair at the foot of the bed. "Right. Because obviously your sex life is so lacking."
Sheppard strangles down a laugh and even Teyla is grinning wildly. Ronon just rolls his eyes and pretends to ignore him. Rodney has to wonder exactly how much they know, but it's not like it matters; nothing stays a secret for long in Atlantis.
Eventually, Beckett shoves them out of the room with all the requisite needs his rest and you're disturbing his peace. Rodney waits a second longer than everyone else and is just turning to leave when Ronon looks over and says, "Stay," before rolling over and curling into the pillow, taking up all the room on the too small bed. Rodney's left standing, wondering when the hell life changed so much that he's about to voluntarily stay and watch Ronon sleep.
"I hate you so much right now. You know this, right? My God, I had to help carry your huge, almost-dead body all the way back to the Stargate. I think I broke my back and you don’t even bother saying thank you and-"
"McKay, I've been unconscious," Ronon says, like that's somehow an excuse. He rolls over to look at Rodney, raising one eyebrow.
"Oh my god, now you're whining? Why am I not surprised?" Rodney steps closer, flopping down onto the edge of the bed and shoving Ronon over with his hip. He's close, too close, but not close enough. Rodney wants to reach out and touch, feeling him breathe, slow and steady and easy.
"Ouch. Fuck," Ronon gasps out, shifting on the bed.
Rodney shakes his head, and slowly moves closer, reaching out, letting his hand trail along Ronon's cheek, down his neck and into his hair. He clenches his fist into the dreads and he tries not to notice his hand trembling, shaking like on the planet when he finally managed to get to Ronon at the bottom of the cliff, shaking like when he finally had to escape the infirmary and the frantically uneven rhythm of Ronon's heart monitor.
Ronon's watching him carefully, not moving, just letting Rodney touch. "Rodney," he says, but it's too much, all too much, and Rodney just shakes his head and pulls away.
"Oh, shut up and go to sleep," he says, grabbing his laptop from the side table and pulling it open on his lap. It's awkward, the hospital bed's too high and his legs aren't quite long enough. He ends up hooking an ankle around the arm of the chair and pulling it closer making it into a footstool. Still not great but better, and he glares at Ronon before opening up the most recent reports from his division chiefs.
"Aren't you going to move?" Ronon asks. "I mean, I deserve my own space. I was almost dead." Ronon's looking tired, but strangely happy in a weird and twisted sort of way, and Rodney can feel his hand edging along the top of the rough hospital blankets, closer and closer until there's a soft brush of fingers against his leg, a quick touch of a hand on his hip.
"Yet, here you are. Alive and irritating. No, I'm not going to move. I'm going to sit here and work," he says, shutting Ronon up with a wave of his hand. "Some of us can't lie around in bed all day."
He reaches down and squeezes Ronon's hand, quick and hard, probably almost painfully. The minute he touches skin something painful inside relaxes and it's like he can breathe for the first time in days.
Ronon just winds their fingers together, almost asleep again, still clinging to Rodney's hand, holding tight and not letting go.
Fandom: Atlantis
Pairing: Rodney/Ronon
Length: 1200 words
Summary: Ronon spends three days almost dying while Rodney rewires the personal network storage system on Atlantis.
Notes: In my head, this is somewhat of a sequel to Anomalies. In reality, it's a stand alone fic. *g*
Hugs to AudraRose for above-and-beyond beta duties. :D
Congruencies by Sori
Ronon spends three days almost dying while Rodney rewires the personal network storage system on Atlantis. He frees up 250 gigs of storage space for letters and pictures and porn, and five minutes after he routes the last data line, 100 downloads immediately start between network computers. The command center practically goes into orgasmic bliss.
Soldiers start walking down the hall toward him, slapping him on the back, and starting to say, "Hey Dr. McKay, that was-" before he calls them morons and stomps off in the other direction.
Beckett has to defibrillate Ronon twice.
It's not like it's that big of a deal. Ronon's been with them three years and counting, and he's almost died a dozen times: gun shots and knife wounds and poison darts and that one incident with ice cubes and carbon and an angry alien spinster. That's less than Sheppard, but more than anyone else on Atlantis.
But somehow in the months they've been sharing a bed, things have changed, enough that sleeping together no longer means just sex, sometimes it means clothes and sleep and very little touching beyond Rodney shoving Ronon over to his side of the bed.
Things have shifted, fundamentally and completely, and Rodney thinks that's probably something Ronon should know.
At least, before he dies in any painfully permanent way.
**
Three days after they haul Ronon back through the gate, it's Rodney's shift to sit and keep the almost-dead company. He's sitting on the chair next to the bed, laptop open, reading Parrish's latest attempt at a field report. Mostly, he's using the track changes to educate Parrish on the practical aspects of missions with comments like: where exactly did you get that PhD again?
When Ronon wakes up, he opens his eyes slowly, and mumbles something that sounds a lot like, "McKay."
Rodney looks up and glares.
"Finally," he says, pushing the mouse button on his keyboard and opening up the next field report. "You'd think you'd be smart enough to not fall down a cliff. Brilliant."
And Ronon smiles a little, like he heard just what he needed to hear, and waves his hand at Rodney as he settles back into the bed. Rodney doesn't look up from his work until Ronon's snoring softly. Rodney can't help but think the snoring's good. It's better than the deathly quiet, at least.
He closes his eyes, listening to Ronon's soft snores, the steady beep-beep of the heart monitor, the electric hum of medical equipment, trying desperately not to think of steep cliffs and a broken, bloody body.
***
It's another day before Ronon wakes up long enough to sit up and notice the world around him. Sheppard and Teyla descend upon him, telling him embarrassing stories of Rodney and his quest for more porn storage among the troops. Rodney figures he should probably be pissed except Ronon's laughing and breathing and looking nowhere near death.
"Porn? There's porn on Atlantis?" Ronon finally asks shocked. "And you've been making me watch football?"
Rodney snorts and flops down heavily on a chair at the foot of the bed. "Right. Because obviously your sex life is so lacking."
Sheppard strangles down a laugh and even Teyla is grinning wildly. Ronon just rolls his eyes and pretends to ignore him. Rodney has to wonder exactly how much they know, but it's not like it matters; nothing stays a secret for long in Atlantis.
Eventually, Beckett shoves them out of the room with all the requisite needs his rest and you're disturbing his peace. Rodney waits a second longer than everyone else and is just turning to leave when Ronon looks over and says, "Stay," before rolling over and curling into the pillow, taking up all the room on the too small bed. Rodney's left standing, wondering when the hell life changed so much that he's about to voluntarily stay and watch Ronon sleep.
"I hate you so much right now. You know this, right? My God, I had to help carry your huge, almost-dead body all the way back to the Stargate. I think I broke my back and you don’t even bother saying thank you and-"
"McKay, I've been unconscious," Ronon says, like that's somehow an excuse. He rolls over to look at Rodney, raising one eyebrow.
"Oh my god, now you're whining? Why am I not surprised?" Rodney steps closer, flopping down onto the edge of the bed and shoving Ronon over with his hip. He's close, too close, but not close enough. Rodney wants to reach out and touch, feeling him breathe, slow and steady and easy.
"Ouch. Fuck," Ronon gasps out, shifting on the bed.
Rodney shakes his head, and slowly moves closer, reaching out, letting his hand trail along Ronon's cheek, down his neck and into his hair. He clenches his fist into the dreads and he tries not to notice his hand trembling, shaking like on the planet when he finally managed to get to Ronon at the bottom of the cliff, shaking like when he finally had to escape the infirmary and the frantically uneven rhythm of Ronon's heart monitor.
Ronon's watching him carefully, not moving, just letting Rodney touch. "Rodney," he says, but it's too much, all too much, and Rodney just shakes his head and pulls away.
"Oh, shut up and go to sleep," he says, grabbing his laptop from the side table and pulling it open on his lap. It's awkward, the hospital bed's too high and his legs aren't quite long enough. He ends up hooking an ankle around the arm of the chair and pulling it closer making it into a footstool. Still not great but better, and he glares at Ronon before opening up the most recent reports from his division chiefs.
"Aren't you going to move?" Ronon asks. "I mean, I deserve my own space. I was almost dead." Ronon's looking tired, but strangely happy in a weird and twisted sort of way, and Rodney can feel his hand edging along the top of the rough hospital blankets, closer and closer until there's a soft brush of fingers against his leg, a quick touch of a hand on his hip.
"Yet, here you are. Alive and irritating. No, I'm not going to move. I'm going to sit here and work," he says, shutting Ronon up with a wave of his hand. "Some of us can't lie around in bed all day."
He reaches down and squeezes Ronon's hand, quick and hard, probably almost painfully. The minute he touches skin something painful inside relaxes and it's like he can breathe for the first time in days.
Ronon just winds their fingers together, almost asleep again, still clinging to Rodney's hand, holding tight and not letting go.