Five Ways To Start A Crossover I'm Never Going To Finish, SGA/House
I want to write it so bad but I can't! the medical knowledge alludes me! Each drabble ends when my muse decides I can't add anything more to it.
1) Dr. Rodney McKay steps into his office with a cup of coffee in one hand and a bagel in the other. He sits down, props his feet on his desk, and scarfs down the bagel, drowns himself in the coffee, and for the lack of something else to do, picks up a stress ball and bounces it against his window.
His door opens, and he should have seen that coming because his walls are made of glass. Dr. Teyla Emmagan tosses a file folder on his desk. He looks down at it and then up at her through his eyelashes.
“Weir told me to tell you we have a new case.” Teyla crosses her arms over her white doctor's jacket, and Rodney sees a hint of leather beneath it. He reaches into his pocket out of habit and pulls out a Powerbar. She raises an eyebrow as he unwraps it noisily and takes a big bite.
“Which is?” He asks around a mouth full of peanut-butter Powerbar. Rodney doesn't have all day. There's a hockey game on at two.
“Thirty-year-old man, amnesia, no head trauma. He thinks his name is Michael but he is not sure.”
***
2) McKay jumps over the short wall that separates him from Dr. Sheppard's balcony and opens his door.
Sheppard is sitting at his desk, filling out paperwork. He looks up sharply at McKay's entrance and puts down his pen, leans back in his chair with his hands behind his neck.
“May I help you?” McKay sits down in the chair across from him. He plays with the toy jet on Sheppard's desk. Sheppard takes it out of his hands and puts it back.
“New case,” McKay grumbles. He picks up the model jet again before Sheppard can slap his hand.
“And why aren't you in your office, solving it?” Sheppard smirks.
***
3) McKay walks quietly into Sheppard's office, shuts the door behind him, and grabs Sheppard's doctor's coat by the lapels and kisses him.
Sheppard gets with the program.
He pushes off McKay's casual jacket and spreads his hands across his ribcage, over the "I'm with genius ^" shirt he's got on, thin cotton and not much else between him and McKay's warm warm body.
McKay mumbles nonsense against his lips, "desk" and "pants" and "Johnny" and "God, I knew your ex-wife was onto something" and yanks on his tie instead of his jacket, and Sheppard shivers because of it.
Suddenly, McKay breaks the kiss, grabs Sheppard by his tie again (oh god, tie me up, John thinks) and hauls him over to his desk. One sweep and most of Sheppard's trinkets fall off his desk to the carpeted floor.
"Hey!-" He's cut off with McKay's hot hot mouth and clever fingers. The desk digs into his back, so he shifts a little. And then he's on his desk and McKay's between his legs, one hand still on his tie (it has little fighter jets on it), the other unfastening Sheppard's pants like a skilled surgeon (which he is).
And then his pants are open and McKay is sinking to his knees right where Sheppard's desk chair should be but isn't, and all thoughts of 'hey, he knocked my model jet off onto the floor!' fly out of his head like wisps of clouds.
***
4) They're on his floor, door locked and lights off, grinding their hips together like mortar and pestle, like flint.
Pleasure sparks like wildfire, dangerous, eager, and McKay drives all thought out of his head, of his dying patient, of disease and cures and diagnosis and puzzles, and works on fitting into John's body, works on solving the mystery beneath him. Right now. Here.
John stretches up like some arcane ballerina, his neck a flash of Swan Prince in the dark as his lips meet Rodney's.
Their pants are forgotton like patients, and they are desperate, so desperate, for all the skin they can reach. Possibilities stretch out like the time they don't have and they try new things, new angles, finding secret spots they knew existed, mapping out anatomical charts on each others' body.
"McKay," Sheppard whispers, cloth-rough and intelligent, like McKay knows he is. But he has to forget, forget, forge-
He stops.
"McKay?" Sheppard looks up at him intently and freezes as well.
McKay has that look. His face is almost blank, eyes wide and bluer than Sheppard's sky dreams, mouth turned down and open a bit, and he's staring into nothing.
It last a second or maybe an hour, and then McKay is scrambling off of Sheppard. His hand is on the doorknob when Sheppard speaks again, naked and stretched out like a porn star on the floor of his office.
"McKay. Pants." And only then does McKay blink, it seems. He lets go of the doorknob like it's on fire and turns to Sheppard. Turns to Sheppard and lowers his eyelids, drops his gaze to the part of Sheppard that hasn't forgotton.
He rushes back and drops to his knees, straddling Sheppard once more.
"God, Sheppard, I've been an idiot, the answer's been here and there all along, and God, I really want to finish this," and he hauls Sheppard up so he's sitting in his lap, kisses him hard on the mouth, promises without words, "but I have to go, Michael, he's dying, he's-- And I have to go, but later, yes?"
Sheppard scratches his nails lightly up McKay's back in response and gently shoves him off his lap.
"Go." Rodney nods, pulls his pants on and jacket and forgets his boxers are under Sheppard's desk, rushes out of the office without his shoes even and barely remembers to close the door.
***
5) It's only after they've saved the day, after Doctor Weir's berated Rodney for being harsh and superior to the patient like he always is, that Rodney's able to see Doctor Sheppard.
He busts into Sheppard's office and he's with a patient. He glares at Rodney as his patient, a beautiful woman with chestnut hair, spins to look at him with distaste.
"McKay, I'm with a patient." Rodney shrugs, sits down on the couch.
"I'll wait. I mean, it's not like there's someone dying. Oh wait, there is." He smiles not-very-nicely at the pretty girl. She narrows her eyes at him.
Sheppard sighs, runs a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, Chaya, could we continue this later? There's a seriously deranged man who needs my assistance. I'll call you, okay? We'll set up a consultation within the week." She stands, he stands, and comes around the desk to guide her to the door, hand on the small of her back.
Rodney doesn't like her at all.
The moment she's left the office, Rodney goes and sits in John's chair.
"Now what's this dying person got to do with me? Shouldn't you be out saving their life?"
"Oh, that was just to get her out of here. I've already saved his life."
ETA: changed drabble #2 because srsly, Dr. McKay wouldn't knock @ Dr. Sheppard's door. He'd just walk in.
ETA 2: squee! this has been featured in sga_newsletter!
1) Dr. Rodney McKay steps into his office with a cup of coffee in one hand and a bagel in the other. He sits down, props his feet on his desk, and scarfs down the bagel, drowns himself in the coffee, and for the lack of something else to do, picks up a stress ball and bounces it against his window.
His door opens, and he should have seen that coming because his walls are made of glass. Dr. Teyla Emmagan tosses a file folder on his desk. He looks down at it and then up at her through his eyelashes.
“Weir told me to tell you we have a new case.” Teyla crosses her arms over her white doctor's jacket, and Rodney sees a hint of leather beneath it. He reaches into his pocket out of habit and pulls out a Powerbar. She raises an eyebrow as he unwraps it noisily and takes a big bite.
“Which is?” He asks around a mouth full of peanut-butter Powerbar. Rodney doesn't have all day. There's a hockey game on at two.
“Thirty-year-old man, amnesia, no head trauma. He thinks his name is Michael but he is not sure.”
***
2) McKay jumps over the short wall that separates him from Dr. Sheppard's balcony and opens his door.
Sheppard is sitting at his desk, filling out paperwork. He looks up sharply at McKay's entrance and puts down his pen, leans back in his chair with his hands behind his neck.
“May I help you?” McKay sits down in the chair across from him. He plays with the toy jet on Sheppard's desk. Sheppard takes it out of his hands and puts it back.
“New case,” McKay grumbles. He picks up the model jet again before Sheppard can slap his hand.
“And why aren't you in your office, solving it?” Sheppard smirks.
***
3) McKay walks quietly into Sheppard's office, shuts the door behind him, and grabs Sheppard's doctor's coat by the lapels and kisses him.
Sheppard gets with the program.
He pushes off McKay's casual jacket and spreads his hands across his ribcage, over the "I'm with genius ^" shirt he's got on, thin cotton and not much else between him and McKay's warm warm body.
McKay mumbles nonsense against his lips, "desk" and "pants" and "Johnny" and "God, I knew your ex-wife was onto something" and yanks on his tie instead of his jacket, and Sheppard shivers because of it.
Suddenly, McKay breaks the kiss, grabs Sheppard by his tie again (oh god, tie me up, John thinks) and hauls him over to his desk. One sweep and most of Sheppard's trinkets fall off his desk to the carpeted floor.
"Hey!-" He's cut off with McKay's hot hot mouth and clever fingers. The desk digs into his back, so he shifts a little. And then he's on his desk and McKay's between his legs, one hand still on his tie (it has little fighter jets on it), the other unfastening Sheppard's pants like a skilled surgeon (which he is).
And then his pants are open and McKay is sinking to his knees right where Sheppard's desk chair should be but isn't, and all thoughts of 'hey, he knocked my model jet off onto the floor!' fly out of his head like wisps of clouds.
***
4) They're on his floor, door locked and lights off, grinding their hips together like mortar and pestle, like flint.
Pleasure sparks like wildfire, dangerous, eager, and McKay drives all thought out of his head, of his dying patient, of disease and cures and diagnosis and puzzles, and works on fitting into John's body, works on solving the mystery beneath him. Right now. Here.
John stretches up like some arcane ballerina, his neck a flash of Swan Prince in the dark as his lips meet Rodney's.
Their pants are forgotton like patients, and they are desperate, so desperate, for all the skin they can reach. Possibilities stretch out like the time they don't have and they try new things, new angles, finding secret spots they knew existed, mapping out anatomical charts on each others' body.
"McKay," Sheppard whispers, cloth-rough and intelligent, like McKay knows he is. But he has to forget, forget, forge-
He stops.
"McKay?" Sheppard looks up at him intently and freezes as well.
McKay has that look. His face is almost blank, eyes wide and bluer than Sheppard's sky dreams, mouth turned down and open a bit, and he's staring into nothing.
It last a second or maybe an hour, and then McKay is scrambling off of Sheppard. His hand is on the doorknob when Sheppard speaks again, naked and stretched out like a porn star on the floor of his office.
"McKay. Pants." And only then does McKay blink, it seems. He lets go of the doorknob like it's on fire and turns to Sheppard. Turns to Sheppard and lowers his eyelids, drops his gaze to the part of Sheppard that hasn't forgotton.
He rushes back and drops to his knees, straddling Sheppard once more.
"God, Sheppard, I've been an idiot, the answer's been here and there all along, and God, I really want to finish this," and he hauls Sheppard up so he's sitting in his lap, kisses him hard on the mouth, promises without words, "but I have to go, Michael, he's dying, he's-- And I have to go, but later, yes?"
Sheppard scratches his nails lightly up McKay's back in response and gently shoves him off his lap.
"Go." Rodney nods, pulls his pants on and jacket and forgets his boxers are under Sheppard's desk, rushes out of the office without his shoes even and barely remembers to close the door.
***
5) It's only after they've saved the day, after Doctor Weir's berated Rodney for being harsh and superior to the patient like he always is, that Rodney's able to see Doctor Sheppard.
He busts into Sheppard's office and he's with a patient. He glares at Rodney as his patient, a beautiful woman with chestnut hair, spins to look at him with distaste.
"McKay, I'm with a patient." Rodney shrugs, sits down on the couch.
"I'll wait. I mean, it's not like there's someone dying. Oh wait, there is." He smiles not-very-nicely at the pretty girl. She narrows her eyes at him.
Sheppard sighs, runs a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, Chaya, could we continue this later? There's a seriously deranged man who needs my assistance. I'll call you, okay? We'll set up a consultation within the week." She stands, he stands, and comes around the desk to guide her to the door, hand on the small of her back.
Rodney doesn't like her at all.
The moment she's left the office, Rodney goes and sits in John's chair.
"Now what's this dying person got to do with me? Shouldn't you be out saving their life?"
"Oh, that was just to get her out of here. I've already saved his life."
ETA: changed drabble #2 because srsly, Dr. McKay wouldn't knock @ Dr. Sheppard's door. He'd just walk in.
ETA 2: squee! this has been featured in sga_newsletter!