(no subject)
Title: Elsewhere
Author: Sorrel
Fandoms: Buffy, SGA, Supernatural
Rating: R
Spoilers: none, this part
Pairings: Spike/Xander, Sam/McKay, Dean/Sheppard, Ronon/Teyla. Implied Sheppard/McKay and Dean/Sam.
Summary: Four demon hunters are sent to Atlantis as a backup combat team. Romantic tangles, asskicking, and leather pants ensue.
Previous Parts: here.
Part IX:
It had to be at least two o’clock, Sam thought. Everyone who wasn’t on watch should be in bed, catching up on their sleep. Rest was in short supply in the Pegasus Galaxy; you had to take it when you could.
And yet, the lights in the lab were on.
Sam had absolutely no doubt who was in there. He’d woken up from a restless dream and gone in search for Rodney, only to discover that the good doctor was not tucked away in bed, like all good physicists should be at this hour. The only other viable choices were either the lab or the mess hall, but Sam had taken a guess and checked the lab first, and hit jackpot.
Rodney was hunched over a laptop, muttering imprecations at something or other; Sam couldn’t tell from this distance. He’d powered down the bright overhead lights, and was typing by the light of a smallish lamp, clamped to the table two feet to the left of his elbow. His clothes were wrinkled, his jaw was shadowed with the beginnings of a beard and his hair was sticking out at odd angles from where he’d been pulling on it in frustration.
Sam had never been more attracted to him.
He knew that there were people who thought he was sooo gorgeous, or sooo sexy or whatever, who saw him as this charmingly dangerous romantic hero. They were the people who thought that he could do better, who thought that he’d be better suited with one of the airmen, or hell, even one of the other scientists- anyone but Rodney, really. Rodney was loud, rude, and supercilious, with a superiority streak a mile wide. He was also brilliant and engaging, gave you his grudging respect if you could dish it out as well as take it, and got surprisingly relaxed and playful if you caught him in the right mood.
Sam had slept with a few guys before- not a lot, none after Jess, but enough, and none of them had been as good as Rodney. Rodney pointed out that it was the old theory, how geeks were better in bed because they had more time to think about sex as opposed to having it, but Sam didn’t care what it was. Rodney was focused and intense in bed, always observant for the best response to get the desired reaction, with an added dose of fun that no one would have believed, even if Sam had told them. Rodney was such a hardass, such a sarcastic, condescending bastard, that no one could possibly predict that he’d be able to laze around in bed for hours, once you got him there, just kissing till their lips were puffy and red, that he’d be the kind of guy to jump you and sink his teeth into your neck and then pin you down and tickle you like you were five years old again.
No one sees it, Sam thought. Sees him. No one but me.
He deliberately bumped into a chair on the way in, making some noise to alert Rodney to his presence. Rodney looked up immediately and then swiveled his chair to face him, smiling to see him there.
“Hey,” Sam said, his breath caught in the back of his throat. He loved the way that Rodney always turned to him when Sam came in, no matter what he was doing. Other people barely even got a grunt of acknowledgement, but he always had time for Sam. The force of his full attention was a little heady, and it went straight through Sam, like a shot of the finest whiskey.
“Hey to you too,” Rodney said, arching an eyebrow. “What are you doing here? It’s gotta be… God, two at least.”
“Yeah, just about.”
“Fuck. Forgot to go to sleep, I guess. What are you still doing up?”
Sam shrugged elaborately and leaning against the table, less than a foot away. “Couldn’t sleep.”
Rodney looked at him with those too-shrewd eyes. “You knew I’d still be awake.”
“Yeah,” Sam said, because he never lied to Rodney, he just couldn’t do it. “Didn’t mean to bug you.”
“Oh, if you were bothering me, I’d let you know,” Rodney said, and that was so very, very true that Sam had to smile, and when Rodney smiled back he gave in to the urge to touch and reached out, laid a hand across the back of his neck.
It was meant to be a friendly, simple gesture, but Rodney inhaled sharply and leaned into it, which caused Sam’s pulse to skyrocket. “Um,” he said, and let his hand spread, his last two fingers spidering up into his hair and his thumb curling down to rub sensually against the little knob at the top of his spine. He squeezed, lightly, feeling taught muscles go lax under his grip, and Rodney let out a shaky sigh.
“Feel free to keep doing that for the next fifty years or so,” he moaned. “God, that’s good.”
“It’s going to get better,” Sam said, making a split-second and incredibly stupid decision, and leaned forward to kiss him.
Rodney didn’t kiss back for half a second, causing Sam’s heart to just about pound out of his chest, fear that Rodney would push him away adding to the fear that someone would walk in and catch them doing this, and then Rodney made a wordless sound, low in his throat, and grabbed Sam by the hips, pulling him close, and kissed him back.
They made out, right there in the middle of Rodney’s deserted lab, for what felt like hours but was probably just a few minutes. Sam felt like he couldn’t get enough of Rodney’s mouth, like he was glutting himself on some addictive substance that he couldn’t live without. Rodney held him fast with a tight grip on his hips, his hands practically burning a hole through Sam’s BDU’s in a chemical reaction with the skin underneath. It was crazy, and dangerous, and so damn hot Sam felt like he couldn’t get his breath.
When they pulled back, Rodney’s lips were swollen and Sam knew the skin around his mouth was turning red from beard burn, but it felt so. damned. good that he just didn’t give a damn. Rodney was panting lightly, all but melted against the lab bench that was supporting him, and his slowly clearing eyes were still a little glazed with lust.
“Lets,” Sam said, and then had to clear his throat to get his voice out of the low, hoarse tone it had been stuck in. “Let’s get out of here, okay?”
“Good plan,” Rodney said back, equally low-voiced, and he shut down the laptop he’d been working on with a few short keystrokes, barely glancing way from Sam long enough to make sure that it was done before they were dragging each other out of the lab, laughing as they stumbled over each other in their haste to get back to whichever room was nearest.
They were almost to the transporter when Dean and Sheppard suddenly came into view. They both looked a little drunk, Sheppard with his arm looped companionably around Dean’s shoulders, and they were both laughing as they rounded the corner.
Sam felt himself go cold inside when he saw Dean’s happy face, and he had just a split second to realize what he and Rodney must look like before Dean spotted them, stopping dead in his tracks. Sheppard, who was maybe a little drunker, stumbled to a stop when Dean did, and only then did he look up and see them.
“Uh, hey,” Sam said, completely at a loss. This had never happened before. In the years before Atlantis, there had been no one in Sam’s life but Dean, and since Rodney, who’d bulldozed into his life without any trace of subtlety but a surprising amount of charm, Sam had managed to avoid Dean, and scenes like this. He’d known it was inevitable, but he hadn’t realize that it would hurt this much.
“Hey,” Dean said back. He looked a lot like Sam felt- miserable. Sam wondered if that meant that Dean was sleeping with Sheppard, or if his brother was moving slow for once in his life. More likely, it just meant that Sheppard meant something to him. Dean didn’t have a hint of shame when it came to one-night stands.
“Give him lots of water,” Rodney advised to Dean. “We’ve got a mission tomorrow, and I don’t want to deal with him hungover.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” Dean said, looking a little more at ease- trust Rodney, who always seemed to be the most socially inept person ever, to be the one who knew how to make things easier. Then Dean’s voice grew edges, and he said, “Don’t stay up too late.”
“Try not to get my team leader drunk next time,” Rodney shot back, clearly losing whatever sympathy he’d had, and Sam decided that now would be a good time to get out of there, and dragged him to the transporter before any more barbs could be exchanged.
They went to Rodney’s room because it was closer, and because Rodney had to get up earlier for the mission debrief. Sam waited impatiently until the door chimed, to signal that the electronic lock had been engaged, and then he spun Rodney around with one fast movement and tried to kiss him.
Rodney held him back with two palms, pressed to his chest. “Hey,” he said, sounding irritated but not angry. “I’m not a replacement, okay? This was going pretty well until we ran into those two, and I’m pretty sure it could be fun again if you just relax, already, and forget about it.”
Sam went hot with shame and would have pulled away if Rodney hadn’t had the forethought to fist his hands into the front of Sam’s t-shirt, holding him fast. “Relax,” Rodney repeated, and when Sam realized that Rodney was probably talking about Sheppard, he stopped trying to pull away. There were some things he couldn’t talk about, couldn’t bear the thought that anyone knew. Even Rodney would turn away in disgust if he knew that it wasn’t Sheppard Sam had been looking at in that hallway. Some things were better kept a secret.
“Relaaaaax,” Rodney said a third time, his voice hypnotic and intense, a little smile crooking up the corners of his mouth. He spread his hands again, pressing his palms warmly into the muscles of Sam’s chest. Sam sighed and obeyed, letting himself melt into that oh-so-familiar touch, letting himself forget about sharp hazel eyes and never-shaved jaw and scratched-up leather jacket, the one that Dean hadn’t been wearing. He just let it go, and let Rodney hold him up.
“Better,” Rodney murmured, and Sam was suddenly grateful to him, Rodney McKay, his lover, and more importantly, his best friend in the galaxy. In another, better world, he probably would have fallen in love with him. As it is, Rodney was still one of the most important people in his life, if for nothing else than that he was always there for him. It didn’t matter that Sam had more issues than Rolling Stone, Rodney just took them as they came with a calm pragmatism that no one would have believed.
“Yeah, it is,” he whispered, and kissed him again, soft and sweet, trying to put everything he felt into that one kiss, hoping that Rodney would understand like he almost always did.
It was the only thing he could give.
Continued here.
Author: Sorrel
Fandoms: Buffy, SGA, Supernatural
Rating: R
Spoilers: none, this part
Pairings: Spike/Xander, Sam/McKay, Dean/Sheppard, Ronon/Teyla. Implied Sheppard/McKay and Dean/Sam.
Summary: Four demon hunters are sent to Atlantis as a backup combat team. Romantic tangles, asskicking, and leather pants ensue.
Previous Parts: here.
Part IX:
It had to be at least two o’clock, Sam thought. Everyone who wasn’t on watch should be in bed, catching up on their sleep. Rest was in short supply in the Pegasus Galaxy; you had to take it when you could.
And yet, the lights in the lab were on.
Sam had absolutely no doubt who was in there. He’d woken up from a restless dream and gone in search for Rodney, only to discover that the good doctor was not tucked away in bed, like all good physicists should be at this hour. The only other viable choices were either the lab or the mess hall, but Sam had taken a guess and checked the lab first, and hit jackpot.
Rodney was hunched over a laptop, muttering imprecations at something or other; Sam couldn’t tell from this distance. He’d powered down the bright overhead lights, and was typing by the light of a smallish lamp, clamped to the table two feet to the left of his elbow. His clothes were wrinkled, his jaw was shadowed with the beginnings of a beard and his hair was sticking out at odd angles from where he’d been pulling on it in frustration.
Sam had never been more attracted to him.
He knew that there were people who thought he was sooo gorgeous, or sooo sexy or whatever, who saw him as this charmingly dangerous romantic hero. They were the people who thought that he could do better, who thought that he’d be better suited with one of the airmen, or hell, even one of the other scientists- anyone but Rodney, really. Rodney was loud, rude, and supercilious, with a superiority streak a mile wide. He was also brilliant and engaging, gave you his grudging respect if you could dish it out as well as take it, and got surprisingly relaxed and playful if you caught him in the right mood.
Sam had slept with a few guys before- not a lot, none after Jess, but enough, and none of them had been as good as Rodney. Rodney pointed out that it was the old theory, how geeks were better in bed because they had more time to think about sex as opposed to having it, but Sam didn’t care what it was. Rodney was focused and intense in bed, always observant for the best response to get the desired reaction, with an added dose of fun that no one would have believed, even if Sam had told them. Rodney was such a hardass, such a sarcastic, condescending bastard, that no one could possibly predict that he’d be able to laze around in bed for hours, once you got him there, just kissing till their lips were puffy and red, that he’d be the kind of guy to jump you and sink his teeth into your neck and then pin you down and tickle you like you were five years old again.
No one sees it, Sam thought. Sees him. No one but me.
He deliberately bumped into a chair on the way in, making some noise to alert Rodney to his presence. Rodney looked up immediately and then swiveled his chair to face him, smiling to see him there.
“Hey,” Sam said, his breath caught in the back of his throat. He loved the way that Rodney always turned to him when Sam came in, no matter what he was doing. Other people barely even got a grunt of acknowledgement, but he always had time for Sam. The force of his full attention was a little heady, and it went straight through Sam, like a shot of the finest whiskey.
“Hey to you too,” Rodney said, arching an eyebrow. “What are you doing here? It’s gotta be… God, two at least.”
“Yeah, just about.”
“Fuck. Forgot to go to sleep, I guess. What are you still doing up?”
Sam shrugged elaborately and leaning against the table, less than a foot away. “Couldn’t sleep.”
Rodney looked at him with those too-shrewd eyes. “You knew I’d still be awake.”
“Yeah,” Sam said, because he never lied to Rodney, he just couldn’t do it. “Didn’t mean to bug you.”
“Oh, if you were bothering me, I’d let you know,” Rodney said, and that was so very, very true that Sam had to smile, and when Rodney smiled back he gave in to the urge to touch and reached out, laid a hand across the back of his neck.
It was meant to be a friendly, simple gesture, but Rodney inhaled sharply and leaned into it, which caused Sam’s pulse to skyrocket. “Um,” he said, and let his hand spread, his last two fingers spidering up into his hair and his thumb curling down to rub sensually against the little knob at the top of his spine. He squeezed, lightly, feeling taught muscles go lax under his grip, and Rodney let out a shaky sigh.
“Feel free to keep doing that for the next fifty years or so,” he moaned. “God, that’s good.”
“It’s going to get better,” Sam said, making a split-second and incredibly stupid decision, and leaned forward to kiss him.
Rodney didn’t kiss back for half a second, causing Sam’s heart to just about pound out of his chest, fear that Rodney would push him away adding to the fear that someone would walk in and catch them doing this, and then Rodney made a wordless sound, low in his throat, and grabbed Sam by the hips, pulling him close, and kissed him back.
They made out, right there in the middle of Rodney’s deserted lab, for what felt like hours but was probably just a few minutes. Sam felt like he couldn’t get enough of Rodney’s mouth, like he was glutting himself on some addictive substance that he couldn’t live without. Rodney held him fast with a tight grip on his hips, his hands practically burning a hole through Sam’s BDU’s in a chemical reaction with the skin underneath. It was crazy, and dangerous, and so damn hot Sam felt like he couldn’t get his breath.
When they pulled back, Rodney’s lips were swollen and Sam knew the skin around his mouth was turning red from beard burn, but it felt so. damned. good that he just didn’t give a damn. Rodney was panting lightly, all but melted against the lab bench that was supporting him, and his slowly clearing eyes were still a little glazed with lust.
“Lets,” Sam said, and then had to clear his throat to get his voice out of the low, hoarse tone it had been stuck in. “Let’s get out of here, okay?”
“Good plan,” Rodney said back, equally low-voiced, and he shut down the laptop he’d been working on with a few short keystrokes, barely glancing way from Sam long enough to make sure that it was done before they were dragging each other out of the lab, laughing as they stumbled over each other in their haste to get back to whichever room was nearest.
They were almost to the transporter when Dean and Sheppard suddenly came into view. They both looked a little drunk, Sheppard with his arm looped companionably around Dean’s shoulders, and they were both laughing as they rounded the corner.
Sam felt himself go cold inside when he saw Dean’s happy face, and he had just a split second to realize what he and Rodney must look like before Dean spotted them, stopping dead in his tracks. Sheppard, who was maybe a little drunker, stumbled to a stop when Dean did, and only then did he look up and see them.
“Uh, hey,” Sam said, completely at a loss. This had never happened before. In the years before Atlantis, there had been no one in Sam’s life but Dean, and since Rodney, who’d bulldozed into his life without any trace of subtlety but a surprising amount of charm, Sam had managed to avoid Dean, and scenes like this. He’d known it was inevitable, but he hadn’t realize that it would hurt this much.
“Hey,” Dean said back. He looked a lot like Sam felt- miserable. Sam wondered if that meant that Dean was sleeping with Sheppard, or if his brother was moving slow for once in his life. More likely, it just meant that Sheppard meant something to him. Dean didn’t have a hint of shame when it came to one-night stands.
“Give him lots of water,” Rodney advised to Dean. “We’ve got a mission tomorrow, and I don’t want to deal with him hungover.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” Dean said, looking a little more at ease- trust Rodney, who always seemed to be the most socially inept person ever, to be the one who knew how to make things easier. Then Dean’s voice grew edges, and he said, “Don’t stay up too late.”
“Try not to get my team leader drunk next time,” Rodney shot back, clearly losing whatever sympathy he’d had, and Sam decided that now would be a good time to get out of there, and dragged him to the transporter before any more barbs could be exchanged.
They went to Rodney’s room because it was closer, and because Rodney had to get up earlier for the mission debrief. Sam waited impatiently until the door chimed, to signal that the electronic lock had been engaged, and then he spun Rodney around with one fast movement and tried to kiss him.
Rodney held him back with two palms, pressed to his chest. “Hey,” he said, sounding irritated but not angry. “I’m not a replacement, okay? This was going pretty well until we ran into those two, and I’m pretty sure it could be fun again if you just relax, already, and forget about it.”
Sam went hot with shame and would have pulled away if Rodney hadn’t had the forethought to fist his hands into the front of Sam’s t-shirt, holding him fast. “Relax,” Rodney repeated, and when Sam realized that Rodney was probably talking about Sheppard, he stopped trying to pull away. There were some things he couldn’t talk about, couldn’t bear the thought that anyone knew. Even Rodney would turn away in disgust if he knew that it wasn’t Sheppard Sam had been looking at in that hallway. Some things were better kept a secret.
“Relaaaaax,” Rodney said a third time, his voice hypnotic and intense, a little smile crooking up the corners of his mouth. He spread his hands again, pressing his palms warmly into the muscles of Sam’s chest. Sam sighed and obeyed, letting himself melt into that oh-so-familiar touch, letting himself forget about sharp hazel eyes and never-shaved jaw and scratched-up leather jacket, the one that Dean hadn’t been wearing. He just let it go, and let Rodney hold him up.
“Better,” Rodney murmured, and Sam was suddenly grateful to him, Rodney McKay, his lover, and more importantly, his best friend in the galaxy. In another, better world, he probably would have fallen in love with him. As it is, Rodney was still one of the most important people in his life, if for nothing else than that he was always there for him. It didn’t matter that Sam had more issues than Rolling Stone, Rodney just took them as they came with a calm pragmatism that no one would have believed.
“Yeah, it is,” he whispered, and kissed him again, soft and sweet, trying to put everything he felt into that one kiss, hoping that Rodney would understand like he almost always did.
It was the only thing he could give.
Continued here.