sga fic: civilian, R-ish
This, hmm, was not what I had in mind. Blame quettaser because of a link she sent me, and helenish for, uh, reading it and not immediately cutting off all communication with me.
Civilian
On Lorne's first day in Atlantis, John tried to give him the real story about...a lot of things. But mostly Rodney. "You don't want him thinking you're an asshole. And if you are an asshole, that's fine, but you don't want him thinking you're going to be one. Bates was kind of...serious. Grim. Angry. Try not to be like that."
Lorne nodded agreeably. "How about a prank? There were some guys at the SGC who used to laugh about the jokes they used to play on McKay. Think that would fly?"
John shrugged. "Give it a few days, but sure. And be sure to tell me when you plan to try it, because I want to catch the security feed on that one."
Lorne grinned. "Yes sir."
**
John settled in with a smile at the security console. God, he couldn't wait to see Rodney flay them alive when they tried to trick him-- and there he was now, yammering on abstractedly as Lorne led him into a room full of about ten other Marines before closing the door behind them.
"...and I'm not saying that a military education is lacking in any way, I'm actually saying that it ends up being more of an actual handicap than a mere absence of learning would actually--wait, what are you-- where are we?"
Lorne smirked. "Come on, Dr. McKay. You're a smart guy."
John laughed to himself. From what Lorne had told him, the old gang under the mountain used to trick Rodney into deserted rooms, then challenge him to boardgames, or something. It seemed somewhat out of character, from what John had seen of the humorless types he had encountered at the SGC-- but if it got Rodney half an hour away from various city-related emergencies, then he was all for it. He had even helped Lorne round up a checkerboard from some of the scientists.
Rodney was frowning. "I--"
One of the marines laughed, and Lorne raised an eyebrow. "You remember Staff Sergeant Graham at the SGC, don't you?"
John expected an eyeroll, but Rodney's face went white with anger, and then completely blank. "Oh."
Lorne nodded. "Yeah, he certainly remembers you."
John shifted in his seat, because something was wrong about this whole thing.
Rodney closed his eyes for just a moment too long. "Where do you want me," he muttered, quiet.
Lorne faltered, tossing a confused look up to the camera. "Um, what?"
Rodney was fumbling with his belt, fingers clumsy. "I'm going on a mission tomorrow, so I'd appreciate it if you could try not to leave marks. The Colonel would have to ask."
Lorne was holding out his hands, trying to soothe, but his face looked frantic. "McKay--"
"Just on my knees then? Fine. Right, fine." Rodney was rubbing at his jaw, warming up, loosening the muscles-- and John was on his feet, gun in his hand-- but he had no one to shoot. The bastard was back on earth-- god, probably more than just Graham, there had to have been others, judging from the way Rodney was wearily counting the men in the room with him. Like it was something he knew, something familiar. John was out the door in an instant, running down flights of stairs, and then he was tearing through hallways, bursting through the door of a room Lorne had thought would be perfect for a little harmless fun--
"You don't get what I'm saying, McKay, please, get up--" Lorne was insisting, halfway to hysterical, but Rodney was turning to look at where John was standing, flushed and panting, desperate to make it all stop.
"Okay, break this up. Everyone out," he said, trying to sound reassuring, but Rodney just looked at him, eyes heavy.
"Oh, were they saving me for you?" he asked, and John at least made it to the hallway before he threw up.
**
"I'm sorry."
John looked up from his desk. It had been a week. "I-- Rodney--"
He was looking at his hands. "I learned to go on autopilot. I didn't really think you were--"
"Rodney, stop-- please, don't apologize."
He nodded, tightly. "Fine. I should--"
"I told O'Neill about Graham. If you have any other names, I can pass them along."
Rodney shrugged. "Whatever."
John sucked in a breath. "Okay. So, if you don't feel comfortable talking to me about it, then I totally understand, but--"
"The program needed me. And I needed the program, and they had guns, and I was usually careful. But once in awhile they managed to, hm. Catch me off-guard."
Clenching his jaw, John nodded. "His CO--"
"Didn't really believe me. Carter was well-liked, and people said I was careless, a liar. It was different there."
"Yeah, I guess so," John said. "Lorne-- he had me help him find the checkers, you know? He feels pretty bad."
Rodney smiled. "I can tell-- he needs to cut it out. He's jumpy and weird around me. People are starting to notice."
"Right. I'll tell him to...well, I'll tell him to be more like Bates."
Rodney looked tired. "Sure. Well, I have to get over to Heightmeyer. She seems to feel that this may have dredged up some of my old "issues" with the military, etc."
"I never noticed that you had...issues," John said, feeling like shit, but Rodney was shaking his head, looking relieved and annoyed all at once.
"Well, I never did with you. Anyway, pot pie at lunch. See you later."
"Later," John echoed.
**
It was later when Rodney came to John's quarters, a rueful expression on his face. "You weren't at lunch, which I'm going to take to mean that you thought my telling you about it was a request for your absence there, which is exactly the opposite of what I was trying to say."
"I--"
"I'm going to take advantage of your guilt over my history of occasional gang rapes right now, if that's okay," Rodney said decisively, and kissed him.
John had all these reasons to pull away, like Rodney's emotional vulnerability, his secrets being exposed to so many people, his PTSD, other shit.
Reasons to stay where he was: Rodney's mouth. And, oh, hands.
"It was years ago," Rodney murmured, pressing closer. "Years ago, and it sucked, but I'd hate to let something as insignificant as a history of occasional sexual abuse keep you from having nicely consensual sex with me, which I sincerely hope you'll agree to."
John pulled back to glare at him. "It isn't funny."
Rodney shook his head. "No. Oh, unless-- hey, what if I said it was all a joke? Hey, yeah, I knew what you and Lorne were up to all along! There you go, I was just getting my revenge, don't you feel like an idiot?"
John touched Rodney's wrists. "Yes."
"Hey," Rodney said, softly. "Shut the fuck up."
John smiled, leaning in. "yeah, okay."
Civilian
On Lorne's first day in Atlantis, John tried to give him the real story about...a lot of things. But mostly Rodney. "You don't want him thinking you're an asshole. And if you are an asshole, that's fine, but you don't want him thinking you're going to be one. Bates was kind of...serious. Grim. Angry. Try not to be like that."
Lorne nodded agreeably. "How about a prank? There were some guys at the SGC who used to laugh about the jokes they used to play on McKay. Think that would fly?"
John shrugged. "Give it a few days, but sure. And be sure to tell me when you plan to try it, because I want to catch the security feed on that one."
Lorne grinned. "Yes sir."
**
John settled in with a smile at the security console. God, he couldn't wait to see Rodney flay them alive when they tried to trick him-- and there he was now, yammering on abstractedly as Lorne led him into a room full of about ten other Marines before closing the door behind them.
"...and I'm not saying that a military education is lacking in any way, I'm actually saying that it ends up being more of an actual handicap than a mere absence of learning would actually--wait, what are you-- where are we?"
Lorne smirked. "Come on, Dr. McKay. You're a smart guy."
John laughed to himself. From what Lorne had told him, the old gang under the mountain used to trick Rodney into deserted rooms, then challenge him to boardgames, or something. It seemed somewhat out of character, from what John had seen of the humorless types he had encountered at the SGC-- but if it got Rodney half an hour away from various city-related emergencies, then he was all for it. He had even helped Lorne round up a checkerboard from some of the scientists.
Rodney was frowning. "I--"
One of the marines laughed, and Lorne raised an eyebrow. "You remember Staff Sergeant Graham at the SGC, don't you?"
John expected an eyeroll, but Rodney's face went white with anger, and then completely blank. "Oh."
Lorne nodded. "Yeah, he certainly remembers you."
John shifted in his seat, because something was wrong about this whole thing.
Rodney closed his eyes for just a moment too long. "Where do you want me," he muttered, quiet.
Lorne faltered, tossing a confused look up to the camera. "Um, what?"
Rodney was fumbling with his belt, fingers clumsy. "I'm going on a mission tomorrow, so I'd appreciate it if you could try not to leave marks. The Colonel would have to ask."
Lorne was holding out his hands, trying to soothe, but his face looked frantic. "McKay--"
"Just on my knees then? Fine. Right, fine." Rodney was rubbing at his jaw, warming up, loosening the muscles-- and John was on his feet, gun in his hand-- but he had no one to shoot. The bastard was back on earth-- god, probably more than just Graham, there had to have been others, judging from the way Rodney was wearily counting the men in the room with him. Like it was something he knew, something familiar. John was out the door in an instant, running down flights of stairs, and then he was tearing through hallways, bursting through the door of a room Lorne had thought would be perfect for a little harmless fun--
"You don't get what I'm saying, McKay, please, get up--" Lorne was insisting, halfway to hysterical, but Rodney was turning to look at where John was standing, flushed and panting, desperate to make it all stop.
"Okay, break this up. Everyone out," he said, trying to sound reassuring, but Rodney just looked at him, eyes heavy.
"Oh, were they saving me for you?" he asked, and John at least made it to the hallway before he threw up.
**
"I'm sorry."
John looked up from his desk. It had been a week. "I-- Rodney--"
He was looking at his hands. "I learned to go on autopilot. I didn't really think you were--"
"Rodney, stop-- please, don't apologize."
He nodded, tightly. "Fine. I should--"
"I told O'Neill about Graham. If you have any other names, I can pass them along."
Rodney shrugged. "Whatever."
John sucked in a breath. "Okay. So, if you don't feel comfortable talking to me about it, then I totally understand, but--"
"The program needed me. And I needed the program, and they had guns, and I was usually careful. But once in awhile they managed to, hm. Catch me off-guard."
Clenching his jaw, John nodded. "His CO--"
"Didn't really believe me. Carter was well-liked, and people said I was careless, a liar. It was different there."
"Yeah, I guess so," John said. "Lorne-- he had me help him find the checkers, you know? He feels pretty bad."
Rodney smiled. "I can tell-- he needs to cut it out. He's jumpy and weird around me. People are starting to notice."
"Right. I'll tell him to...well, I'll tell him to be more like Bates."
Rodney looked tired. "Sure. Well, I have to get over to Heightmeyer. She seems to feel that this may have dredged up some of my old "issues" with the military, etc."
"I never noticed that you had...issues," John said, feeling like shit, but Rodney was shaking his head, looking relieved and annoyed all at once.
"Well, I never did with you. Anyway, pot pie at lunch. See you later."
"Later," John echoed.
**
It was later when Rodney came to John's quarters, a rueful expression on his face. "You weren't at lunch, which I'm going to take to mean that you thought my telling you about it was a request for your absence there, which is exactly the opposite of what I was trying to say."
"I--"
"I'm going to take advantage of your guilt over my history of occasional gang rapes right now, if that's okay," Rodney said decisively, and kissed him.
John had all these reasons to pull away, like Rodney's emotional vulnerability, his secrets being exposed to so many people, his PTSD, other shit.
Reasons to stay where he was: Rodney's mouth. And, oh, hands.
"It was years ago," Rodney murmured, pressing closer. "Years ago, and it sucked, but I'd hate to let something as insignificant as a history of occasional sexual abuse keep you from having nicely consensual sex with me, which I sincerely hope you'll agree to."
John pulled back to glare at him. "It isn't funny."
Rodney shook his head. "No. Oh, unless-- hey, what if I said it was all a joke? Hey, yeah, I knew what you and Lorne were up to all along! There you go, I was just getting my revenge, don't you feel like an idiot?"
John touched Rodney's wrists. "Yes."
"Hey," Rodney said, softly. "Shut the fuck up."
John smiled, leaning in. "yeah, okay."