TEAM PLAY: crash and burn, "because falling's not the problem"
Title: because falling's not the problem
Author: monanotlisa
Team: Play
Prompt: crash and burn
Pairing(s): McKay/Sheppard
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Off-screen sexbot sex.
Summary: This isn’t the story. This is what happens afterwards.
Once you've read the story, please take a moment to vote in the poll below. Ratings go from 1 (low) to 9 (high), so all you need to do is enter a single number in that range into each text entry box. You'll be able to see the Prompt and Team (Genre) information in the header above.
More details about the voting procedure can be found here.
Rodney did a decent job of mimicking a horde of elephants entering John’s quarters.
“Oh no you don’t, John!” He stomped to a halt, glaring down at John with his hands on his hips.
John looked up from the bed, put the book down -- incidentally the same he’d been reading for these last few years, but it wasn’t as if anyone cared, or believed John Sheppard really was an avid reader of anything but comics and golf magazines -- and smiled. “I don’t?”
“No way do you get to play with that thing after making sure I never got to use mine before it ran out of batteries!” Rodney pointed to the corner where the sexbot sat in John’s desk chair, legs primly crossed, as though waiting for dictation. Rodney stopped, face twisting in a sudden spasm of honesty. “Well, okay, I did have it build that processor, among other things, but the point is, I never got to use it for its original purpose.”
John raised an eyebrow, and himself up into a sitting position. “My sex-bot’s dead too.”
“What?”
“It’s an ex-bot, Rodney.”
“But did you --” Rodney stopped, frowned, tried again: “I mean, before it died?”
“Why?” John smirked his smirk meant to hide, not show, swinging his legs off the bed. “Are you jealous?”
The fish imitation on Rodney’s part that followed was not a particularly good one. Although the tufts of hair sticking out from the sides of his head might have doubled for fins. If you were hallucinating. “You know what? Yes! Actually, yes, I am. Robots fell from the sky, Sheppard, and I subsequently spent the last three days fending off a walking -- if not talking -- sex toy! A gorgeous animatronic walking dildo that looked like a male model and begged mutely to blow me, and I know that sounds like one of those incredibly lame porn flicks where one of the actors slathers some silver powder on and affixes two bouncing wires to his ears, but nevertheless it made it impossible for me not to remember certain happy sexy fun times in my past. Way, way in the past.” Rodney glared at John some more. “The unbelievably distant past.”
John looked up at Rodney. “The fake robots in the gay porn you watched had wires stuck to their ears?”
Rodney looked down at John. “I can’t believe that’s the part of my story you’re choosing to focus on.”
“Me neither.” John’s face twisted into one of his complicated, indecipherable expressions that frequently seemed unrelated to actual events occurring around him. Possibly he was receiving emotional input from an alternate universe (possibly the one where he talked about his feelings). Or he just needed some Ex-Lax. “But it seemed safer than those happy fun times of yours of yore.”
“Sexy ones.” Rodney crossed his arms. “Don’t forget the sex. I didn’t, turns out.”
“You know, maybe you should sit down.” John bit his lip and jerked his head sideways towards his bed.
Rodney nodded mutely, for once, and did just that. The sexbot stared at them blankly from the corner. Rodney scooted a little closer.
John studied his knees. “So. What’s, you know, the point? Of a sexbot.”
“Duh,” Rodney said, after he too had inquiringly stared at John’s knees for a moment, obviously not coming to any conclusion about them, “They have unbelievable stamina and, with a few key commands, they do anything I want!”
“You don’t need a bot for that.”
“What, are you -- oh. Oh.” His mouth softened, slanted, lifted.
“Yeah.” Judging by his expression, John could’ve just as well been flying a nuke into a hiveship.
Rodney looked sideways at John. “So, you wanna --”
“Fuck, yeah.” John did turn, still not quite meeting Rodney’s eyes. The muscles in his shoulders were visible through the thin black t-shirt, bunched up and tight. He leaned in, towards Rodney, looking up only at the last moment. “Can we not talk?”
Rodney reached out, carefully took hold of John’s upper arm just below where the fabric ended. His right thumb stroked slowly across tan skin and dark hair. “Not a chance.” His forehead touched John’s not tentatively but respectfully, surprisingly Athosian that way.
“That’s what I thought.” John smiled, this time a real smile. He ran his nose along Rodney’s. “Rodney.”
“I’m here.” Rodney closed the final distance between them, brushed his lips across John’s, drawing John closer by the nape of his neck. “And don’t you mistake me for a robot.”
“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t,” John whispered, awkwardly curling his hands around first one, then the other of Rodney’s shoulders as though feeling for nonexistent circuitry, “I couldn’t.” His mouth opened under Rodney’s, and when he fell back, Rodney was there, still right there.
Afterwards, they lay on John’s bed, panting, covered in bodily fluids.
He shifted onto his side to face John, there really not being enough room on John’s bed for them to lie side by side on their backs. Sexual antics, human proximity: without such simple everyday access to them, it was hardly a wonder the Ancient had been such freaks.
“So, you decided not to use the sexbot you’d found at the eleventh hour,” Rodney said into John’s right ear, the pointy one. Not that the other one wasn’t almost as pointy.
"Well, we did get the cheap knock-offs, so it quit before I nerved myself up to actually try it," John mumbled, staring at the ceiling. "It seemed too weird, anyway.” He waved a hand at the bot in the corner, now covered with the fuzzy Ancient blanket they’d thrown over at some point between the first and the second round. They both looked at the shape, then hurriedly away. “Besides, really, I just wanted you."
Rodney tried shaking his head but, considering the difficulty of that lying down on his side, gave up. "Why didn't you say something?"
"Um."
"You were scared.” There was no malice in Rodney’s voice.
“You could’ve laughed. Or cried, laughing.” John’s tongue darted out to lick dry lips.
“That’s -- fine; that’s entirely true based on at least some of the evidence, but you never seem afraid of failure in other situations. Like when you go off to crash-land alien ships on like soil.”
“That’s different. This is you. And me. Us.” John muttered, his face screwing up into one of those dorky yet adorable expressions that Rodney realized went with him trying to say something and not getting the words out. He looked like he’d rather be talking to the sexbot.
“Wow, did you just imply a relationship of affection between us without hyperventilating?”
“Shut up and stop fidgeting and finally put your arm around me before we both fall off this damn cot, Rodney.”
And Rodney did, and they lived happily ever after. Unlike the sexbots that, after all the batteries ran out on Day Three, were locked away in sub-basement D-56 by Elizabeth, who proceeded to throw the code into the ocean.
Poll
Author: monanotlisa
Team: Play
Prompt: crash and burn
Pairing(s): McKay/Sheppard
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Off-screen sexbot sex.
Summary: This isn’t the story. This is what happens afterwards.
Once you've read the story, please take a moment to vote in the poll below. Ratings go from 1 (low) to 9 (high), so all you need to do is enter a single number in that range into each text entry box. You'll be able to see the Prompt and Team (Genre) information in the header above.
More details about the voting procedure can be found here.
Rodney did a decent job of mimicking a horde of elephants entering John’s quarters.
“Oh no you don’t, John!” He stomped to a halt, glaring down at John with his hands on his hips.
John looked up from the bed, put the book down -- incidentally the same he’d been reading for these last few years, but it wasn’t as if anyone cared, or believed John Sheppard really was an avid reader of anything but comics and golf magazines -- and smiled. “I don’t?”
“No way do you get to play with that thing after making sure I never got to use mine before it ran out of batteries!” Rodney pointed to the corner where the sexbot sat in John’s desk chair, legs primly crossed, as though waiting for dictation. Rodney stopped, face twisting in a sudden spasm of honesty. “Well, okay, I did have it build that processor, among other things, but the point is, I never got to use it for its original purpose.”
John raised an eyebrow, and himself up into a sitting position. “My sex-bot’s dead too.”
“What?”
“It’s an ex-bot, Rodney.”
“But did you --” Rodney stopped, frowned, tried again: “I mean, before it died?”
“Why?” John smirked his smirk meant to hide, not show, swinging his legs off the bed. “Are you jealous?”
The fish imitation on Rodney’s part that followed was not a particularly good one. Although the tufts of hair sticking out from the sides of his head might have doubled for fins. If you were hallucinating. “You know what? Yes! Actually, yes, I am. Robots fell from the sky, Sheppard, and I subsequently spent the last three days fending off a walking -- if not talking -- sex toy! A gorgeous animatronic walking dildo that looked like a male model and begged mutely to blow me, and I know that sounds like one of those incredibly lame porn flicks where one of the actors slathers some silver powder on and affixes two bouncing wires to his ears, but nevertheless it made it impossible for me not to remember certain happy sexy fun times in my past. Way, way in the past.” Rodney glared at John some more. “The unbelievably distant past.”
John looked up at Rodney. “The fake robots in the gay porn you watched had wires stuck to their ears?”
Rodney looked down at John. “I can’t believe that’s the part of my story you’re choosing to focus on.”
“Me neither.” John’s face twisted into one of his complicated, indecipherable expressions that frequently seemed unrelated to actual events occurring around him. Possibly he was receiving emotional input from an alternate universe (possibly the one where he talked about his feelings). Or he just needed some Ex-Lax. “But it seemed safer than those happy fun times of yours of yore.”
“Sexy ones.” Rodney crossed his arms. “Don’t forget the sex. I didn’t, turns out.”
“You know, maybe you should sit down.” John bit his lip and jerked his head sideways towards his bed.
Rodney nodded mutely, for once, and did just that. The sexbot stared at them blankly from the corner. Rodney scooted a little closer.
John studied his knees. “So. What’s, you know, the point? Of a sexbot.”
“Duh,” Rodney said, after he too had inquiringly stared at John’s knees for a moment, obviously not coming to any conclusion about them, “They have unbelievable stamina and, with a few key commands, they do anything I want!”
“You don’t need a bot for that.”
“What, are you -- oh. Oh.” His mouth softened, slanted, lifted.
“Yeah.” Judging by his expression, John could’ve just as well been flying a nuke into a hiveship.
Rodney looked sideways at John. “So, you wanna --”
“Fuck, yeah.” John did turn, still not quite meeting Rodney’s eyes. The muscles in his shoulders were visible through the thin black t-shirt, bunched up and tight. He leaned in, towards Rodney, looking up only at the last moment. “Can we not talk?”
Rodney reached out, carefully took hold of John’s upper arm just below where the fabric ended. His right thumb stroked slowly across tan skin and dark hair. “Not a chance.” His forehead touched John’s not tentatively but respectfully, surprisingly Athosian that way.
“That’s what I thought.” John smiled, this time a real smile. He ran his nose along Rodney’s. “Rodney.”
“I’m here.” Rodney closed the final distance between them, brushed his lips across John’s, drawing John closer by the nape of his neck. “And don’t you mistake me for a robot.”
“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t,” John whispered, awkwardly curling his hands around first one, then the other of Rodney’s shoulders as though feeling for nonexistent circuitry, “I couldn’t.” His mouth opened under Rodney’s, and when he fell back, Rodney was there, still right there.
Afterwards, they lay on John’s bed, panting, covered in bodily fluids.
He shifted onto his side to face John, there really not being enough room on John’s bed for them to lie side by side on their backs. Sexual antics, human proximity: without such simple everyday access to them, it was hardly a wonder the Ancient had been such freaks.
“So, you decided not to use the sexbot you’d found at the eleventh hour,” Rodney said into John’s right ear, the pointy one. Not that the other one wasn’t almost as pointy.
"Well, we did get the cheap knock-offs, so it quit before I nerved myself up to actually try it," John mumbled, staring at the ceiling. "It seemed too weird, anyway.” He waved a hand at the bot in the corner, now covered with the fuzzy Ancient blanket they’d thrown over at some point between the first and the second round. They both looked at the shape, then hurriedly away. “Besides, really, I just wanted you."
Rodney tried shaking his head but, considering the difficulty of that lying down on his side, gave up. "Why didn't you say something?"
"Um."
"You were scared.” There was no malice in Rodney’s voice.
“You could’ve laughed. Or cried, laughing.” John’s tongue darted out to lick dry lips.
“That’s -- fine; that’s entirely true based on at least some of the evidence, but you never seem afraid of failure in other situations. Like when you go off to crash-land alien ships on like soil.”
“That’s different. This is you. And me. Us.” John muttered, his face screwing up into one of those dorky yet adorable expressions that Rodney realized went with him trying to say something and not getting the words out. He looked like he’d rather be talking to the sexbot.
“Wow, did you just imply a relationship of affection between us without hyperventilating?”
“Shut up and stop fidgeting and finally put your arm around me before we both fall off this damn cot, Rodney.”
And Rodney did, and they lived happily ever after. Unlike the sexbots that, after all the batteries ran out on Day Three, were locked away in sub-basement D-56 by Elizabeth, who proceeded to throw the code into the ocean.
Poll