Stargate: Atlantis, Sheppard/McKay, Stages of a relationship: Touch
Title: In Touch
Author: Pollitt (mboyd)
Theme: Touch
Rating: G
Author's Notes: No spoilers. Chronologically, this takes place before "The Return" (both the episodes and the story from last week)
Sheppard is breaking the rules that they never really put in place or talked about, but are there all the same. They've touched before, yes--a pat on the shoulder/back/arm here, a brush of hand/hip/foot there. But this is different, deliberate, and Rodney's... right now he's stuck between wanting to kiss Sheppard or smack him in his too-cool-for-school head.
The set-up of the Okai's ceremonial meeting room reminded Rodney of some of his classes at university--benches instead of ergonomic seats, but a conference table is a conference table, be it made of Formica or Breaselan wood. And while Teyla and Elizabeth look positively rapt, Rodney can’t muster the concentration to focus on what Nygel is talking about, and he’s placing the blame squarely on Sheppard’s shoulders.
Sheppard, whose hand slid over to his, turning it over and, while discussions of something or another were being held, whose fingertips skimmed over Rodney’s open palm.
On the third pass, the light scrape of John’s fingernail over a lifeline finally gels into a pattern for Rodney. Across, across, down, pause. Down, ninety-degree angle, circle-
Oh.
John’s eyes are soft, his smile almost shy.
Maybe those rules never really existed.
Rodney leans in.
Author: Pollitt (mboyd)
Theme: Touch
Rating: G
Author's Notes: No spoilers. Chronologically, this takes place before "The Return" (both the episodes and the story from last week)
Sheppard is breaking the rules that they never really put in place or talked about, but are there all the same. They've touched before, yes--a pat on the shoulder/back/arm here, a brush of hand/hip/foot there. But this is different, deliberate, and Rodney's... right now he's stuck between wanting to kiss Sheppard or smack him in his too-cool-for-school head.
The set-up of the Okai's ceremonial meeting room reminded Rodney of some of his classes at university--benches instead of ergonomic seats, but a conference table is a conference table, be it made of Formica or Breaselan wood. And while Teyla and Elizabeth look positively rapt, Rodney can’t muster the concentration to focus on what Nygel is talking about, and he’s placing the blame squarely on Sheppard’s shoulders.
Sheppard, whose hand slid over to his, turning it over and, while discussions of something or another were being held, whose fingertips skimmed over Rodney’s open palm.
On the third pass, the light scrape of John’s fingernail over a lifeline finally gels into a pattern for Rodney. Across, across, down, pause. Down, ninety-degree angle, circle-
Oh.
John’s eyes are soft, his smile almost shy.
Maybe those rules never really existed.
Rodney leans in.