TEAM PEACE: Balance of Power, "(Murphy's) Laws Of War"
Title: (Murphy's) Laws Of War
Author: mirasol ( interview)
Team: Peace
Prompt: Balance of Power
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Summary: It is a bad thing to run out of airspeed, altitude and ideas all at the same time.
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.
The one item you need is always in short supply.
"So what's the official word on this mission?" Rodney still looks down at his tablet even though it's just him and John in the jumper making their way towards M63-274’s surface from the space gate.
Some habits are hard to change. This thing between them is - always has been - the biggest open secret in Atlantis. Rodney’s been putting out fires for too long because John is always trying to sabotage himself. A tiny smile, a hand resting on the small of Rodney’s back for a couple of seconds too long, all these things and more and Rodney ends up dating Jennifer. She’s been sweet about the whole beard thing.
"Arial recon of M68-190." There’s the garrulous man of many words that Rodney knows and l- and yeah, he’s not finishing that thought right now.
"Uh-huh. O-kay. Might help if we were in reality flying over that particular dump. And what did Woolsey say ‘unofficially’?" Rodney, making air quotes with his fingers, looks over at John who's still staring directly ahead.
"He'd like plausible deniability." John grins, wickedness briefly flashing over his face. "And new retinas."
"Oh please." Rodney can't help the snort that escapes. "Your hands. My pants. That combination, hot as it undoubtedly is, can’t have set his eyeballs ablaze. If he’d given us ten more seconds Miss Prig could have seen something really mind altering."
"I told you before, Rodney, I’m not gonna use jello like that. Unauthorised usage of a foodstuff-" John breaks off as Rodney’s tablet beeps a warning. "That’s-?"
"Yes. Saddle up, pardner. There’s a ZPM in them thar hills." There’s no eye roll for Rodney’s words but he still regrets them just as soon as he hears John’s soft Cry, Cry, Cry from the other seat.
No matter which way you have to march, it’s always uphill.
Rodney’s certain that John could have landed the jumper a whole lot closer to the tower. He’d checked, even double checked, and there weren’t any significant life signs in the area; the overgrown forest they’re currently trampling through wouldn’t look out of place in Sleeping Beauty.
The view is amazing. Notably so when they start the uphill trek; the change in John’s gait making the fabric pull even tauter across his ass and sporadic glimpses of skin where John’s shirt and pants don’t always meet tease Rodney. Ronon’s training regime, regular sex and running for his life means that Rodney’s plenty fit now but he’s still finding it hard to breathe when staring at that.
"You okay there, McKay?" John looks back over his shoulder, completely unfazed and with not even a suspicion of sheen of perspiration across his forehead. The bastard knows exactly why Rodney’s sweating and why his ears pink up. If this planet wasn’t so dangerously quiet and abandoned Rodney would wipe that concealed smugness away.
On balance, though, when Rodney considers stealth revenge blowjobs against the possibility of a ZPM there’s sadly not much of a choice he can make.
"I hate you."
"I know. You hate me all night long."
There is no such thing as a perfect plan.
This isn't right.
So far this mission has been candy from a baby easy. Rodney and John retrieved the partially charged ZPM from the tower; they didn’t set off any booby traps or turn on any funky Ancient device by mistake. They got back to the jumper with the same number of limbs they started the day with and in relatively the same John and Rodney shape. No Wraith darts swooped down to pick them off on their hike back to the jumper.
In all, the day is a complete success. That’s not good.
Sometimes things just go too well and you’re waiting for the trouble that you can't see coming.
Rodney looks over the controls, fingers flicking through data on his tablet, darting from one reading to another and that's when he sees it. Crap.
"John." There’s no immediate response so Rodney dials it up with a terse "Colonel."
That works. John's all business now with his own quick "McKay?"
"Something’s wrong. I'm reading a significant power build-up coming from the tower."
"And?"
"And I don't know. Clearly we've triggered some kind of automatic defense system. Could be weapons, could be building up to a power pulse. I’d suggest landing or hauling ass out of here."
"Consider our asses hauled." John reaches for the console and that’s when all the lights go out. As the jumper begins to plummet down to the surface Rodney’s caught for a very short time between deciding if he should secure himself in the chair or bend over and kiss his ass goodbye.
That’s all he remembers thinking before the ground’s there, way too quick to be any good.
The mark of a truly superior pilot is the use of his superior judgment to avoid situations requiring the use of his superior skill.
"Ow. Also, fuck. And I believe I mentioned ow?" Rodney doesn’t especially want to open his eyes but for all he knows the jumper could be teetering on the edge of a ravine. With that thought now squarely in the forefront of his mind, he absolutely positively really doesn’t want to open his eyes.
He opens them anyway.
The incipient headache lurking just behind Rodney’s eyes doesn’t burst out into show tunes and a stomping dance routine so he’s got to be grateful for that. There’s dirt and debris thrown up onto the window but the ground seems fairly solid in front of them so, hey, that’s the hovering on the edge of disaster question answered.
Now for the John question. Rodney glances over at the other seat which is, unforgivably, empty. There’s no infuriating Lt. Col. shaped annoyance there and Rodney’s mouth goes horribly dry. For a short while he can’t make his voice work at all.
That’s when a hand lands on his shoulder. Rodney jerks around and seeing John there behind him, alive and whole, even with smears of blood and grazes on his face, makes Rodney’s chest feel a little less constricted. John silently passes him a canteen and a couple of small white pills with a fleeting wry smile and Rodney’s prepared to declare his undying manly admiration right there in this tiny crashed spaceship of theirs.
"Still with me, then." John's hand squeezes Rodney's shoulder and he can feel the heat spread out from that touch, warming parts of him that he hasn’t even realised are cold.
"You've got to try harder than that to get rid of me."
"Don't think I want to."
Rodney must have a concussion. His headache is fainter but he still feels like he's been hit on the head.
Don't ever be the first, don't ever be the last and don't ever volunteer to do anything.
"No. I can’t just hook up the ZPM." Rodney wants to get physical with John and not in the good way. He’s fighting the itch to reach out and strangle him. "I don’t know how many of the systems have been affected yet. In any event, it would be like powering your iPod with a Mark II. You’d end up frying Johnny Cash."
That's a low blow and Rodney knows it. Still, it gets John not asking him questions every couple of minutes and lets him get on with running the diagnostics in peace. He looks up a few times and catches John staring at him. John's biting down on his bottom lip, hands resting on his thighs.
"I don’t think it’ll be a disaster if we got stranded here for some time."
Rodney harrumphs. He'd prefer somewhere a bit more tropical with frou-frou drinks and an all-you-can-eat buffet. He pointedly ignores John now because John’s got that smouldering look that makes Rodney want to strip him down and lick him all over.
When he’s done, Rodney leans back in the chair and scrubs at his face.
"Sitrep?" John’s got his feet up on the console now, his shades hiding his eyes and his fingers are steepled on his chest.
"Not good. There’s damage to several essential crystals, and the power’s been drained considerably. This planet’s gate is a space gate and even if I could dial it, we can’t get there. Oh, and this isn’t the world we were supposed to be monitoring so when we miss our dial-in they’re going to presume I’ve been kidnapped and you’ve died heroically." Rodney rubs a hand across his forehead, numbers and data and possibilities crowding into his brain, all clamoring for his attention. "I’m hoping our sub-cutaneous transmitters still work because I’m all out of sub-ether electronic thumbs."
"Huh, guess you didn’t pack a towel then." John swings his feet down and pushes up from his chair. He leans across and plants a kiss, just a soft and gentle press of his lips, on Rodney’s forehead, a hand stroking lightly down the side of Rodney’s face. "But who needs a towel when I’ve got you?"
"Smooth. Very smooth. And somehow also incredibly nerdy." Rodney smiles against John’s lips as they move down to cover his own briefly. "Fucked up is still fucked up no matter how brilliant I am. Let’s get your honey flying again."
There is always a way, and it usually doesn't work.
"Stupid piece of-" John’s hand quickly slaps over Rodney’s mouth before he can insult the jumper more than he already has. When the mighty power of the scowl doesn’t immediately work, licking John’s palm has him jumping back right away.
"The good news is that I’ve got a workaround for the ZPM. We’ll have power, even if we don’t have flight." Rodney starts bundling up the cables hanging down.
"Hit me." John’s still looking at his palm, half appalled and, because Rodney knows that speculative look, almost certainly half turned on. He wipes his hand on his vest. "How bad is the bad news?"
"We’re going to need more of these." Rodney holds out a handful of the damaged and burnt out crystals that he’s dug out of the jumper’s innards. He has replaced what he can but he doesn’t have enough spares on board the jumper to finish the job.
The problem is that there’s only going to be one possible place on this planet where they’re going to find more crystals and Rodney knows that the jumper is even further away from the tower this time.
C-4 can make a dull day fun.
A couple of hours later, they reach the tower. Again.
"How many of these do you need?" John is loading the crystals into the case as quickly as Rodney pulls them out of the consoles.
Rodney pauses and shrugs, considering John's question before diving back in to the open panel. "As many as we can find." Soon they’ve got plenty of crystals, more than enough to replace what’s useless in the jumper.
John starts setting the charges to blast the shit out of the tower. Rodney rationalizes that the pulse that disabled the jumper had to come from somewhere around there. He reasons that if they trash whatever controls the automatic defensive system, they should be able to leave without additional difficulties.
"I just think that massive explosions are kind of awesome." John answers, collecting up cases, detonator and scientist.
"Any bang that shakes your bones is motivation enough for you."
"Sure. Any time, Rodney. Any time."
John’s voice is low and husky and Rodney rewinds the conversation. "Oh. Oh."
"Yeah." John licks his lips and puts his shades back on. "Oh."
Never go to bed with anyone crazier than yourself.
John holds the flashlight steady for him while Rodney fits the crystals and, as the last one slots into place, the jumper comes back to life. He checks the power levels; low for now but the workaround for the ZPM seems to be coping just fine.
"The power cells should be adequately recharged in, I guess, a couple of hours. We’ll be home in time to get reamed by Woolsey. Unless he thinks we played hooky just to be able to have amazing sex without him walking in on us. Pervert."
"Great." John steps closer and drops the flashlight onto the bench behind Rodney. He crowds in even closer and rests his hands on Rodney’s hips, flexing his fingers. "So. Oh?"
"Yeah." Rodney’s heart is already beating a little faster and he can almost taste John, he can almost feel the welcome weight of John on his tongue. "Ah. Definitely. So definitely. Oh."
end
Poll
Author: mirasol ( interview)
Team: Peace
Prompt: Balance of Power
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Summary: It is a bad thing to run out of airspeed, altitude and ideas all at the same time.
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.
The one item you need is always in short supply.
"So what's the official word on this mission?" Rodney still looks down at his tablet even though it's just him and John in the jumper making their way towards M63-274’s surface from the space gate.
Some habits are hard to change. This thing between them is - always has been - the biggest open secret in Atlantis. Rodney’s been putting out fires for too long because John is always trying to sabotage himself. A tiny smile, a hand resting on the small of Rodney’s back for a couple of seconds too long, all these things and more and Rodney ends up dating Jennifer. She’s been sweet about the whole beard thing.
"Arial recon of M68-190." There’s the garrulous man of many words that Rodney knows and l- and yeah, he’s not finishing that thought right now.
"Uh-huh. O-kay. Might help if we were in reality flying over that particular dump. And what did Woolsey say ‘unofficially’?" Rodney, making air quotes with his fingers, looks over at John who's still staring directly ahead.
"He'd like plausible deniability." John grins, wickedness briefly flashing over his face. "And new retinas."
"Oh please." Rodney can't help the snort that escapes. "Your hands. My pants. That combination, hot as it undoubtedly is, can’t have set his eyeballs ablaze. If he’d given us ten more seconds Miss Prig could have seen something really mind altering."
"I told you before, Rodney, I’m not gonna use jello like that. Unauthorised usage of a foodstuff-" John breaks off as Rodney’s tablet beeps a warning. "That’s-?"
"Yes. Saddle up, pardner. There’s a ZPM in them thar hills." There’s no eye roll for Rodney’s words but he still regrets them just as soon as he hears John’s soft Cry, Cry, Cry from the other seat.
No matter which way you have to march, it’s always uphill.
Rodney’s certain that John could have landed the jumper a whole lot closer to the tower. He’d checked, even double checked, and there weren’t any significant life signs in the area; the overgrown forest they’re currently trampling through wouldn’t look out of place in Sleeping Beauty.
The view is amazing. Notably so when they start the uphill trek; the change in John’s gait making the fabric pull even tauter across his ass and sporadic glimpses of skin where John’s shirt and pants don’t always meet tease Rodney. Ronon’s training regime, regular sex and running for his life means that Rodney’s plenty fit now but he’s still finding it hard to breathe when staring at that.
"You okay there, McKay?" John looks back over his shoulder, completely unfazed and with not even a suspicion of sheen of perspiration across his forehead. The bastard knows exactly why Rodney’s sweating and why his ears pink up. If this planet wasn’t so dangerously quiet and abandoned Rodney would wipe that concealed smugness away.
On balance, though, when Rodney considers stealth revenge blowjobs against the possibility of a ZPM there’s sadly not much of a choice he can make.
"I hate you."
"I know. You hate me all night long."
There is no such thing as a perfect plan.
This isn't right.
So far this mission has been candy from a baby easy. Rodney and John retrieved the partially charged ZPM from the tower; they didn’t set off any booby traps or turn on any funky Ancient device by mistake. They got back to the jumper with the same number of limbs they started the day with and in relatively the same John and Rodney shape. No Wraith darts swooped down to pick them off on their hike back to the jumper.
In all, the day is a complete success. That’s not good.
Sometimes things just go too well and you’re waiting for the trouble that you can't see coming.
Rodney looks over the controls, fingers flicking through data on his tablet, darting from one reading to another and that's when he sees it. Crap.
"John." There’s no immediate response so Rodney dials it up with a terse "Colonel."
That works. John's all business now with his own quick "McKay?"
"Something’s wrong. I'm reading a significant power build-up coming from the tower."
"And?"
"And I don't know. Clearly we've triggered some kind of automatic defense system. Could be weapons, could be building up to a power pulse. I’d suggest landing or hauling ass out of here."
"Consider our asses hauled." John reaches for the console and that’s when all the lights go out. As the jumper begins to plummet down to the surface Rodney’s caught for a very short time between deciding if he should secure himself in the chair or bend over and kiss his ass goodbye.
That’s all he remembers thinking before the ground’s there, way too quick to be any good.
The mark of a truly superior pilot is the use of his superior judgment to avoid situations requiring the use of his superior skill.
"Ow. Also, fuck. And I believe I mentioned ow?" Rodney doesn’t especially want to open his eyes but for all he knows the jumper could be teetering on the edge of a ravine. With that thought now squarely in the forefront of his mind, he absolutely positively really doesn’t want to open his eyes.
He opens them anyway.
The incipient headache lurking just behind Rodney’s eyes doesn’t burst out into show tunes and a stomping dance routine so he’s got to be grateful for that. There’s dirt and debris thrown up onto the window but the ground seems fairly solid in front of them so, hey, that’s the hovering on the edge of disaster question answered.
Now for the John question. Rodney glances over at the other seat which is, unforgivably, empty. There’s no infuriating Lt. Col. shaped annoyance there and Rodney’s mouth goes horribly dry. For a short while he can’t make his voice work at all.
That’s when a hand lands on his shoulder. Rodney jerks around and seeing John there behind him, alive and whole, even with smears of blood and grazes on his face, makes Rodney’s chest feel a little less constricted. John silently passes him a canteen and a couple of small white pills with a fleeting wry smile and Rodney’s prepared to declare his undying manly admiration right there in this tiny crashed spaceship of theirs.
"Still with me, then." John's hand squeezes Rodney's shoulder and he can feel the heat spread out from that touch, warming parts of him that he hasn’t even realised are cold.
"You've got to try harder than that to get rid of me."
"Don't think I want to."
Rodney must have a concussion. His headache is fainter but he still feels like he's been hit on the head.
Don't ever be the first, don't ever be the last and don't ever volunteer to do anything.
"No. I can’t just hook up the ZPM." Rodney wants to get physical with John and not in the good way. He’s fighting the itch to reach out and strangle him. "I don’t know how many of the systems have been affected yet. In any event, it would be like powering your iPod with a Mark II. You’d end up frying Johnny Cash."
That's a low blow and Rodney knows it. Still, it gets John not asking him questions every couple of minutes and lets him get on with running the diagnostics in peace. He looks up a few times and catches John staring at him. John's biting down on his bottom lip, hands resting on his thighs.
"I don’t think it’ll be a disaster if we got stranded here for some time."
Rodney harrumphs. He'd prefer somewhere a bit more tropical with frou-frou drinks and an all-you-can-eat buffet. He pointedly ignores John now because John’s got that smouldering look that makes Rodney want to strip him down and lick him all over.
When he’s done, Rodney leans back in the chair and scrubs at his face.
"Sitrep?" John’s got his feet up on the console now, his shades hiding his eyes and his fingers are steepled on his chest.
"Not good. There’s damage to several essential crystals, and the power’s been drained considerably. This planet’s gate is a space gate and even if I could dial it, we can’t get there. Oh, and this isn’t the world we were supposed to be monitoring so when we miss our dial-in they’re going to presume I’ve been kidnapped and you’ve died heroically." Rodney rubs a hand across his forehead, numbers and data and possibilities crowding into his brain, all clamoring for his attention. "I’m hoping our sub-cutaneous transmitters still work because I’m all out of sub-ether electronic thumbs."
"Huh, guess you didn’t pack a towel then." John swings his feet down and pushes up from his chair. He leans across and plants a kiss, just a soft and gentle press of his lips, on Rodney’s forehead, a hand stroking lightly down the side of Rodney’s face. "But who needs a towel when I’ve got you?"
"Smooth. Very smooth. And somehow also incredibly nerdy." Rodney smiles against John’s lips as they move down to cover his own briefly. "Fucked up is still fucked up no matter how brilliant I am. Let’s get your honey flying again."
There is always a way, and it usually doesn't work.
"Stupid piece of-" John’s hand quickly slaps over Rodney’s mouth before he can insult the jumper more than he already has. When the mighty power of the scowl doesn’t immediately work, licking John’s palm has him jumping back right away.
"The good news is that I’ve got a workaround for the ZPM. We’ll have power, even if we don’t have flight." Rodney starts bundling up the cables hanging down.
"Hit me." John’s still looking at his palm, half appalled and, because Rodney knows that speculative look, almost certainly half turned on. He wipes his hand on his vest. "How bad is the bad news?"
"We’re going to need more of these." Rodney holds out a handful of the damaged and burnt out crystals that he’s dug out of the jumper’s innards. He has replaced what he can but he doesn’t have enough spares on board the jumper to finish the job.
The problem is that there’s only going to be one possible place on this planet where they’re going to find more crystals and Rodney knows that the jumper is even further away from the tower this time.
C-4 can make a dull day fun.
A couple of hours later, they reach the tower. Again.
"How many of these do you need?" John is loading the crystals into the case as quickly as Rodney pulls them out of the consoles.
Rodney pauses and shrugs, considering John's question before diving back in to the open panel. "As many as we can find." Soon they’ve got plenty of crystals, more than enough to replace what’s useless in the jumper.
John starts setting the charges to blast the shit out of the tower. Rodney rationalizes that the pulse that disabled the jumper had to come from somewhere around there. He reasons that if they trash whatever controls the automatic defensive system, they should be able to leave without additional difficulties.
"I just think that massive explosions are kind of awesome." John answers, collecting up cases, detonator and scientist.
"Any bang that shakes your bones is motivation enough for you."
"Sure. Any time, Rodney. Any time."
John’s voice is low and husky and Rodney rewinds the conversation. "Oh. Oh."
"Yeah." John licks his lips and puts his shades back on. "Oh."
Never go to bed with anyone crazier than yourself.
John holds the flashlight steady for him while Rodney fits the crystals and, as the last one slots into place, the jumper comes back to life. He checks the power levels; low for now but the workaround for the ZPM seems to be coping just fine.
"The power cells should be adequately recharged in, I guess, a couple of hours. We’ll be home in time to get reamed by Woolsey. Unless he thinks we played hooky just to be able to have amazing sex without him walking in on us. Pervert."
"Great." John steps closer and drops the flashlight onto the bench behind Rodney. He crowds in even closer and rests his hands on Rodney’s hips, flexing his fingers. "So. Oh?"
"Yeah." Rodney’s heart is already beating a little faster and he can almost taste John, he can almost feel the welcome weight of John on his tongue. "Ah. Definitely. So definitely. Oh."
end
Poll