Round 1 // Challenge 1 - SGA Entries #6
Story Title: Thursday Morning Meetings.
Character/Relationships: Lorne, Zelenka, Teldy, Parrish, OC’s
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Major Lorne runs into his commanding officer in the mess, right after breakfast. Lorne has a large silver insulated flask in one hand and a bag of fresh cookies in the other, they’re still warm.
“Are those cookies?” Sheppard asks him sniffing dramatically.
“Yes Sir.” Lorne’s gaze is steady as he meets his CO’s eyes. Sheppard studies Lorne for a moment.
“Chuck has already been by for some for your senior staff meeting.” Lorne tells Sheppard, but those weren’t baked fresh this morning, with actual chocolate. Lorne smiles to himself.
Sheppard huffs at him, and glances at his watch. “Yeah, meeting. Wanna switch?” Sheppard sighs.
“Sure sir, I’ll take your senior staff meeting, your fresh coffee and your sneaky under the table chess game with McKay and you can take my department heads meeting where you can get lectured by the Head Nurse about the rapid spread of Dysentery on PX4-911 and sit through Dr.Barton’s report about the four thousand year old migration records from M23-842, oh, and Dr. Parrish is in the middle of some very interesting growth studies of lichen.” Lorne grins at Sheppard
“Dysentery? Lichen?” Sheppard looks horrified.
“Yeah. So I kind of need the cookies to survive.” Lorne’s grin widens. “Sir.” He adds.
“Yeah. I think you do. I’ll just go...” Sheppard hooks his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the door.
“Have a nice meeting, Sir.” Lorne calls after him.
Lorne loves his Thursday morning meetings. The senior staff will have to meet in Woolsey’s stuffy office while Lorne’s meeting will be at the back of greenhouse four, where Dr. Tilbrook is studying aquatic plants for some reason Lorne didn’t quite pay attention to. But it means the greenhouse doors will be open and someone will have moved tables and chairs outside, it’s a glorious day, and Lorne and the other departmental seconds will sit at the water’s edge in the sun drinking fresh coffee and eating the still warm cookie’s, someone else will have bought other snacks.
He steps out of the transporter on the lower level and bumps right into Major Teldy and Marie the head nurse.
“Ladies.” He nods at them.
“Major.” They say in unison. Marie is carrying a slightly battered metal tin that once held Scottish shortbread that Carson had given her, but now contains whatever candy she is willing to share with them this week. Teldy has an identical thermos to his and a box of tea bags. Lorne smiles at them.
“What do with have this week, Marie?” Lorne asks
“Hersey’s kisses and white chocolate.” She tells him.
“White Chocolate, my favorite” He waggles the bag of cookies. “I made a deal with Green in the kitchens that I’d provide the chocolate if he made the cookies and we’d split them; so real chocolate chip.” Both the women look at the bag hungrily.
They have made it three or four meters down the hallway when the transporter doors hiss open behind them, Lorne knows it’s Doctor Zelenka without having to turn around to check because Radek is yelling into his ear piece.
“No Rodney, it can wait, I am very busy. Go Away.”
Lorne and Teldy roll their eyes at each other and all three of them pause and wait for Zelenka.
“Rodney, don’t you have a staff meeting?” Radek is asking into his radio
“Yes, yes, I will call you if the city is sinking, or the wraith wish to come by for supper.” Radek pauses. “Thank you Colonel, you may keep him.” He clicks his radio off as he joins the others in the hall.
“Majors, Marie .” Radek nods. “Shall we.” Radek has a large bag of potato chips under one elbow.
When they arrive Doctor Barton and Doctor Parrish are already sitting outside. Dr. Tilbrook’s water lilies are in bloom and the wide shiny leaves bob up and down next to the bright pink flowers.
“Ah, the weekly social gathering of the put upon second-in-command.” Doctor Barton is arranging mugs on the table.
“Anthropologists.” Doctor Parrish says loudly.
“I could find something to say about botanists.” Barton replies, leaning back in her chair and stretching out long legs in front of her.
“Astro-Botanists.” Parrish corrects
“Soft-scientists.” Radek joins in.
“No channeling the bosses.” Barton laughs pouring boiling water into the mugs that Teldy has put tea bags in.
There’s laughter around the table and Lorne takes his seat between Barton and Zelenka.
“Concentrate people, we have a meeting to conduct.” Lorne fails to reach stern, and hits mocking instead.
“The city still stands, everyone still has hot water and the toilets are fully functional.” Radek says, and opens his bag of chips.
“Everyone is being very human, slightly stressed slightly bored but still normal.” Barton is dipping one of his cookies in her tea. The others watching aghast.
“No one died, a dozen marines got hit by Ronon, Ronon got hit by Sheppard and then by Cadman. Everyone is fine.” Marie said
“Cadman?” Lorne questions.
“She pulled his hair.” Teldy informs him, “The marines were getting bored and they needed a morale booster.”
“They’ll get that when Ronon retaliates.” Barton laughs.
“Parrish, everything OK in botany.” Lorne asks
“Everything’s still growing, we’ll have the cure for the common cold by next week, and the first sweet potatoes will be ready at the end of the month.” Parrish is studiously unwrapping a Hershey’s kiss.
“And the flyboys and girls are all fine.” Lorne finishes. “Meeting done. You know I don’t know why Sheppard makes such a fuss about these routine meetings; he doesn’t know what he’s missing.”
“Kiss?” Marie offers him the tin from across the table.
Story Title: A Life of Routine
Character/Relationships: John Sheppard
Rating: G
Warnings: none.
Military life was, by definition, routine. It was up at the same time every morning, a regimented exercise program, following orders, stepping mindlessly through drills. John had expected it when he joined up, even if he hadn’t liked it very much.
It was part of why he never saw Atlantis coming.
Atlantis, which defied routine at every turn. Atlantis, where every day was different, every moment unexpected, every decision spur-of-the-moment. Atlantis, where everything was down to John and what he could think up on his feet, where following protocol would get you killed, where quick action was the only thing keeping hundreds of people, military and civilian alike, from being wiped off the face of the planet - of the galaxy, of the universe.
This was a routine John would willingly follow, one where the only routine was the lack of routine. It was the routine of anarchy. It was John’s life, and he loved every insane, heart-pounding, spontaneous second.
Title: Sheppard Always Comes
Relationship: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
The pain wasn't quite so bad, so long as he didn't let himself focus on it. Not an easy task, distracting his brain, but the pain really sucked, so he did some breathing exercises Teyla had taught him during training sessions and tried to ignore the fact that he was trapped, pinned and quite likely bleeding to death.
Besides, Sheppard would find him. Sheppard wouldn't leave a man behind; it was his personal mantra.
There was a buckle digging into his chest. The one Sheppard had tightened when he'd checked over his tac vest in the locker room before the mission. "Can't make that much tighter, buddy, think you'll need a new one soon."
"It's all the running for our lives and training with Ronan and the damned jogging you've got me doing three times a week at ungodly hours." Rodney replied as he looked down and watched Sheppard's capable fingers as they snugged tight each of the straps, slid the buckles home and finished with a firm, friendly pat of his palm on Rodney's chest, over that last buckle, the one that was now digging into his sternum.
Sheppard would come. He always came.
His radio was busted; he'd landed on that shoulder when he tumbled down into the ravine. The shoulder was probably busted too. The team would be trying to radio him, every few minutes; one of his teammates would be trying. By now, Sheppard had abandoned proper protocols and was simply repeating, "Dammit, McKay, answer me!"
Face down under a pile of mud, branches and rocks, his chest compressed, Rodney couldn't catch enough of a breath to shout. Not that anyone could hear him over the rain, the same rain that had caused the path at the top of the ravine to wash out under their feet. But Sheppard had a life signs detector in the pocket of his tac vest, standard equipment for the Colonel. By now Sheppard was sweeping the area for the little blip that meant Rodney was here under half the mountainside, waiting for him to come.
Sheppard would have called to the guard they had left on the gate to dial back to Atlantis for a rescue team by now. More people to help search, people with ropes, and blankets and stretchers and morphine. Maybe even a thermos of hot coffee. Jumpers couldn't land here, the terrain was too uneven and unstable, hence the hike in the rain in the first place. Rescue teams would be on foot. His team had been hiking nearly an hour. How long had he been blacked out? Had it been an hour? He tried to wriggle free again, causing a wave of pain from shoulder to shin. 'Bad idea. Stay still.'
Was the debris blocking his life sign signal? He strained to hear over the patter of rain, listening for his team, they would be calling for him, carefully leaning over the edge of the ravine. He took comfort in knowing they would be searching. There was no doubt in his mind; Sheppard would come.
Cold. Wet. Pain.
He must have blacked out again. Couldn't jerk awake from a spasm of pain, otherwise. Where was Sheppard? This was taking too long.
An hour to the gate, they had been treading carefully, slowly, because of the wet, slick dirt path. Marines on a mission made better time. Sheppard intent on a rescue made better time. The team had slowed their pace to match Rodney, in the middle, with Teyla at his back and Ronan on their six, the way they usually hiked, following Sheppard.
He had been following Sheppard.
Oh, God.
He had been following Sheppard.
And the path had gone out from under the Colonel. One moment he'd been there, the next, he'd been gone, and the moment after that, the path had gone out from under Rodney as well, and he had been tumbling, falling, skidding on his back down into the ravine, part of the landslide. The last thing he heard before the roar of the mudslide had drowned out everything else had been Teyla's screaming of his name.
Sheppard had gone down first. Rodney sobbed once, quietly, before blackness overtook him, Sheppard wasn't coming. Not this time.
A steady beeping above his shoulder annoyed Rodney into opening his eyes. He saw the pastel of the infirmary privacy curtains. His left wrist was wrapped in gauze. He couldn't feel his left shoulder, which indicated he'd been given the good stuff to dull the pain. He loved getting the good stuff. It dulled everything. All the hurt. It meant he didn't have to answer the questions he knew would come. No immediate debriefing. It was not time to remember seeing Sheppard fall yet. He closed his eyes and let himself float off.
"Rodney? Rodney. Rod-neee. C'mon wake up. I'm bored and my DS batteries are dead."
He grunted, waved his right hand in dismissal, and mumbled, "You forgot to recharge it again, didn't you?"
"Can I use your laptop? Zelenka left it when he was here before."
Good old reliable Zelenka the Smuggler. "Yeah, sure." Rodney tried to let the good stuff take him away again, but apparently, the good stuff had been discontinued, since he was now starting to feel the dull ache of his injuries. Wait. He jolted awake again. Sheppard?
Sheppard was splayed out in the visitor's chair beside his bed, tapping away at the keys on Rodney's laptop. The Colonel had numerous scratches and bruises showing on the skin not covered by infirmary issued scrubs, but otherwise seemed fine.
"You're not dead."
Sheppard looked up and smirked. "Neither are you. Took us a while to get to you, you slid all the way down a mountain."
"You're not dead."
"Hit a tree, broke a rib." Sheppard casually waved a hand at his midsection.
"You came for me."
"Of course I did."
"Of course you did. You always do."
Story Title: Methodical
Character/Relationships: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Rating: NC-17 to be safe
Warnings: Language, Slash, Sex
Rodney doesn't like change. Sometimes, he'll make exceptions, but mostly only when he has no other choice. Coming to Atlantis though… It was quite possibly the biggest change he’s ever made, but it didn’t take long for him to slip into a routine here either.
Sleep. Eat. Work. Eat. Run for his life from life-sucking alien vampires. Eat. John.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
Sometimes a briefing with Elizabeth, or maybe a check-up with Beckett, but for the most part, his schedule doesn’t vary and he likes that.
Kind of.
The day is drawing to a close. The soft glow of the moonlight illuminates the room as he eats alone. Outside, the hallways are nearly empty, save for the ranking Military Officer skulking through the hallways, avoiding the marines on patrol and the night owls who are finally coming alive.
The quiet rapping on the door doesn’t startle him. Instead, he begins to burn somewhere deep in his belly and his cock is already springing to life. It’s a Pavlovian response.
“Come in,” he calls. It’s quiet, but he doesn’t have to repeat himself because John is already slipping into the room.
“Hey buddy,” he greets, already unbuttoning his shirt.
Rodney wants to offer him dinner, because it seems like the right thing to do, but that would be a variation, so he doesn’t. Instead, he pops the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth and pushes himself to his feet, hands flying to the button on his BDUs.
They’re silent as they undress, but the sound of Rodney’s heart thudding in his chest floods his ears and the silence doesn’t seem so oppressive.
His clothes mingle with John’s on the floor and then they’re on the bed. There’s no kissing on the mouth; never has been, but that’s one of John’s rules. Rodney hates it, but doesn’t fight it because whether they’re here or out in the field, John’s rules trump Rodney’s.
Even if Rodney does really want to kiss him.
The sound of John popping the top on the lube sounds obscene and it’s all Rodney can do to bite back a hysterical giggle. John doesn’t like when he giggles though, so he closes his eyes and clenches the sheets in his big hands as a warm, slick finger enters him.
It burns, but it’s a good burn. He likes the way John stretches him. It isn’t long before a second digit joins the first. It’s standard operating procedure but it takes Rodney by surprise every time.
“Tell me you’re good, Rodney,” John gasps, grinding himself against Rodney. “Can you handle it?”
“Ye-“He clears his throat. “Yeah. Go ahead, John.”
Rodney feels empty when John pulls his fingers out of his ass. He moans at the loss, but before he has an opportunity to get impatient about it, John’s there again, shoving his cock in slowly.
“Oh…”
“You okay, buddy?”
Rodney nods because he feels like it’s probably a little too gay to admit that no, he’s not just okay, he’s amazing.
There’s nothing romantic about the way they fuck. It’s hot, of course, because hello, John Sheppard is fucking him into the mattress, but it’s a little cold too. Clinical, maybe. It’s done more out of need than want because John’s not really gay. He just needs the release and nobody gets him like Rodney does.
At least that’s what John keeps telling himself but it’s just another sad part of their routine.
They don’t prolong it. Most of the time, John is so wired before he even shows up that he’s coming after a couple spectacularly hard thrusts; maybe sooner if Rodney clenches around him, but Rodney doesn’t do that very often.
It usually takes Rodney a little longer. John’s decent enough to stick around and offer a hand but as soon as Rodney explodes all over his chest and belly, John’s pulling away, reaching for the tissues beside the bed.
Most of the time, Rodney doesn’t move as John’s cleaning up. Tonight, though, he rolls onto his side, ignoring the sticky mess coating his gut and leaking out of his ass as he props himself up on one arm, watching John carefully.
John says nothing as he pushes himself to his feet. He dresses quickly, his back still to Rodney and it’s not until he’s halfway out the door that he speaks.
“Thanks buddy.”
Just like that, he’s gone and all Rodney thinks is missing is a pile of bills tossed carelessly onto the bedside table.
Rodney doesn’t like change, but this is one routine that he thinks he could do without.
Maybe one day, he’ll tell John.
Story Title: Routines
Character/Relationships: John/Rodney pre-slash
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Rodney nearly growled when he caught himself looking at his watch for the fifth time in the past twenty minutes. He would be damned if he ever admitted it to anyone, but five o'clock--when John usually turned up to drag him off to dinner--had quickly become his favorite time of day.
He couldn't pinpoint when it had happened, but he figured it was sometime after he nearly drowned in the stupid Jumper. Probably had something to do with the fact that he had resigned himself to dying, but he wasn't going to bother getting into all of that psychological nonsense.
No, all he was concerned with at the moment was the fact that Sheppard was now officially twenty-two minutes late. With a sigh and another hopeful glance toward the door, he turned back to his computer, his fingers moving over the keyboard quickly as he worked on a project he had decided to push back until tomorrow.
"Can't believe he's late." McKay muttered, stabbing the 'enter' button a little harder than necessary. "He's *never* late."
It was true. The Colonel was never late to anything, despite the fact that his permanently mussed hair painted a picture of a man who was unable to be on time.
"Were you sayin' somethin', McKay?"
Rodney nearly fell off the stool he was sitting on as he spun around, struggling to keep the wide smile that was pulling at the corners of his crooked mouth from spreading across his face. "Huh? Oh...just talking to myself."
John cocked an eyebrow and nodded, pushing himself off of the wall next to the lab doors. "What are you workin' on?"
"Just some...uh..." He hesitated, having nearly forgotten what he was working on. Nothing irritated him more than the fact that Colonel John Sheppard could make his mind completely numb, and based on the smug grin plastered across his face, he knew it. "I was working on re-routing the power supply. There were some failures in the outlying parts of the city this afternoon."
"That, uh...sounds like fun."
"Yes, yes, well not everyone can afford to prance around the city all day making her bend to their every whim."
Rodney couldn't help the shiver that ran down his spine at the sound of Sheppard's laughter. It was a bark of sorts, but it never failed to make his body stand up and take notice, which was embarrassing in and of itself.
"I prance, huh?" He asked, leaning forward and resting his chin in his hand.
"I didn't mean...you're taking what I said the wrong way."
"Lighten up, McKay." John grinned, standing up and clapping him on the shoulder before heading toward the door of the lab. "C'mon. We're missin' dinner. It's almost-meatloaf night." He paused at the door, waving his hand at the crystals before looking back over his shoulder. "It's your favorite." He added, a teasing sing-song tone to his voice.
He couldn't help but roll his eyes. Pushing himself up from the stool, he closed his computer and picked it up, tucking it under his arm on the way to the door. John clapped him on the shoulder again as he passed, keeping his hand on his shoulder as they walked toward the mess hall.
"Sorry I was late."
"You were? I hardly noticed."
Sheppard chuckled quietly, running his thumb over Rodney's shoulder absently. "I got here as quick as I could. Wouldn't want to screw up your routine, you know."
"Yes, well...while I am a creature of habit, Colonel, I am also a grown-up. I'm capable of taking care of myself."
"Sure you are, McKay." He teased, shaking his head as they entered the mess hall. "Sure you are."
Character/Relationships: Lorne, Zelenka, Teldy, Parrish, OC’s
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Major Lorne runs into his commanding officer in the mess, right after breakfast. Lorne has a large silver insulated flask in one hand and a bag of fresh cookies in the other, they’re still warm.
“Are those cookies?” Sheppard asks him sniffing dramatically.
“Yes Sir.” Lorne’s gaze is steady as he meets his CO’s eyes. Sheppard studies Lorne for a moment.
“Chuck has already been by for some for your senior staff meeting.” Lorne tells Sheppard, but those weren’t baked fresh this morning, with actual chocolate. Lorne smiles to himself.
Sheppard huffs at him, and glances at his watch. “Yeah, meeting. Wanna switch?” Sheppard sighs.
“Sure sir, I’ll take your senior staff meeting, your fresh coffee and your sneaky under the table chess game with McKay and you can take my department heads meeting where you can get lectured by the Head Nurse about the rapid spread of Dysentery on PX4-911 and sit through Dr.Barton’s report about the four thousand year old migration records from M23-842, oh, and Dr. Parrish is in the middle of some very interesting growth studies of lichen.” Lorne grins at Sheppard
“Dysentery? Lichen?” Sheppard looks horrified.
“Yeah. So I kind of need the cookies to survive.” Lorne’s grin widens. “Sir.” He adds.
“Yeah. I think you do. I’ll just go...” Sheppard hooks his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the door.
“Have a nice meeting, Sir.” Lorne calls after him.
Lorne loves his Thursday morning meetings. The senior staff will have to meet in Woolsey’s stuffy office while Lorne’s meeting will be at the back of greenhouse four, where Dr. Tilbrook is studying aquatic plants for some reason Lorne didn’t quite pay attention to. But it means the greenhouse doors will be open and someone will have moved tables and chairs outside, it’s a glorious day, and Lorne and the other departmental seconds will sit at the water’s edge in the sun drinking fresh coffee and eating the still warm cookie’s, someone else will have bought other snacks.
He steps out of the transporter on the lower level and bumps right into Major Teldy and Marie the head nurse.
“Ladies.” He nods at them.
“Major.” They say in unison. Marie is carrying a slightly battered metal tin that once held Scottish shortbread that Carson had given her, but now contains whatever candy she is willing to share with them this week. Teldy has an identical thermos to his and a box of tea bags. Lorne smiles at them.
“What do with have this week, Marie?” Lorne asks
“Hersey’s kisses and white chocolate.” She tells him.
“White Chocolate, my favorite” He waggles the bag of cookies. “I made a deal with Green in the kitchens that I’d provide the chocolate if he made the cookies and we’d split them; so real chocolate chip.” Both the women look at the bag hungrily.
They have made it three or four meters down the hallway when the transporter doors hiss open behind them, Lorne knows it’s Doctor Zelenka without having to turn around to check because Radek is yelling into his ear piece.
“No Rodney, it can wait, I am very busy. Go Away.”
Lorne and Teldy roll their eyes at each other and all three of them pause and wait for Zelenka.
“Rodney, don’t you have a staff meeting?” Radek is asking into his radio
“Yes, yes, I will call you if the city is sinking, or the wraith wish to come by for supper.” Radek pauses. “Thank you Colonel, you may keep him.” He clicks his radio off as he joins the others in the hall.
“Majors, Marie .” Radek nods. “Shall we.” Radek has a large bag of potato chips under one elbow.
When they arrive Doctor Barton and Doctor Parrish are already sitting outside. Dr. Tilbrook’s water lilies are in bloom and the wide shiny leaves bob up and down next to the bright pink flowers.
“Ah, the weekly social gathering of the put upon second-in-command.” Doctor Barton is arranging mugs on the table.
“Anthropologists.” Doctor Parrish says loudly.
“I could find something to say about botanists.” Barton replies, leaning back in her chair and stretching out long legs in front of her.
“Astro-Botanists.” Parrish corrects
“Soft-scientists.” Radek joins in.
“No channeling the bosses.” Barton laughs pouring boiling water into the mugs that Teldy has put tea bags in.
There’s laughter around the table and Lorne takes his seat between Barton and Zelenka.
“Concentrate people, we have a meeting to conduct.” Lorne fails to reach stern, and hits mocking instead.
“The city still stands, everyone still has hot water and the toilets are fully functional.” Radek says, and opens his bag of chips.
“Everyone is being very human, slightly stressed slightly bored but still normal.” Barton is dipping one of his cookies in her tea. The others watching aghast.
“No one died, a dozen marines got hit by Ronon, Ronon got hit by Sheppard and then by Cadman. Everyone is fine.” Marie said
“Cadman?” Lorne questions.
“She pulled his hair.” Teldy informs him, “The marines were getting bored and they needed a morale booster.”
“They’ll get that when Ronon retaliates.” Barton laughs.
“Parrish, everything OK in botany.” Lorne asks
“Everything’s still growing, we’ll have the cure for the common cold by next week, and the first sweet potatoes will be ready at the end of the month.” Parrish is studiously unwrapping a Hershey’s kiss.
“And the flyboys and girls are all fine.” Lorne finishes. “Meeting done. You know I don’t know why Sheppard makes such a fuss about these routine meetings; he doesn’t know what he’s missing.”
“Kiss?” Marie offers him the tin from across the table.
Story Title: A Life of Routine
Character/Relationships: John Sheppard
Rating: G
Warnings: none.
Military life was, by definition, routine. It was up at the same time every morning, a regimented exercise program, following orders, stepping mindlessly through drills. John had expected it when he joined up, even if he hadn’t liked it very much.
It was part of why he never saw Atlantis coming.
Atlantis, which defied routine at every turn. Atlantis, where every day was different, every moment unexpected, every decision spur-of-the-moment. Atlantis, where everything was down to John and what he could think up on his feet, where following protocol would get you killed, where quick action was the only thing keeping hundreds of people, military and civilian alike, from being wiped off the face of the planet - of the galaxy, of the universe.
This was a routine John would willingly follow, one where the only routine was the lack of routine. It was the routine of anarchy. It was John’s life, and he loved every insane, heart-pounding, spontaneous second.
Title: Sheppard Always Comes
Relationship: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
The pain wasn't quite so bad, so long as he didn't let himself focus on it. Not an easy task, distracting his brain, but the pain really sucked, so he did some breathing exercises Teyla had taught him during training sessions and tried to ignore the fact that he was trapped, pinned and quite likely bleeding to death.
Besides, Sheppard would find him. Sheppard wouldn't leave a man behind; it was his personal mantra.
There was a buckle digging into his chest. The one Sheppard had tightened when he'd checked over his tac vest in the locker room before the mission. "Can't make that much tighter, buddy, think you'll need a new one soon."
"It's all the running for our lives and training with Ronan and the damned jogging you've got me doing three times a week at ungodly hours." Rodney replied as he looked down and watched Sheppard's capable fingers as they snugged tight each of the straps, slid the buckles home and finished with a firm, friendly pat of his palm on Rodney's chest, over that last buckle, the one that was now digging into his sternum.
Sheppard would come. He always came.
His radio was busted; he'd landed on that shoulder when he tumbled down into the ravine. The shoulder was probably busted too. The team would be trying to radio him, every few minutes; one of his teammates would be trying. By now, Sheppard had abandoned proper protocols and was simply repeating, "Dammit, McKay, answer me!"
Face down under a pile of mud, branches and rocks, his chest compressed, Rodney couldn't catch enough of a breath to shout. Not that anyone could hear him over the rain, the same rain that had caused the path at the top of the ravine to wash out under their feet. But Sheppard had a life signs detector in the pocket of his tac vest, standard equipment for the Colonel. By now Sheppard was sweeping the area for the little blip that meant Rodney was here under half the mountainside, waiting for him to come.
Sheppard would have called to the guard they had left on the gate to dial back to Atlantis for a rescue team by now. More people to help search, people with ropes, and blankets and stretchers and morphine. Maybe even a thermos of hot coffee. Jumpers couldn't land here, the terrain was too uneven and unstable, hence the hike in the rain in the first place. Rescue teams would be on foot. His team had been hiking nearly an hour. How long had he been blacked out? Had it been an hour? He tried to wriggle free again, causing a wave of pain from shoulder to shin. 'Bad idea. Stay still.'
Was the debris blocking his life sign signal? He strained to hear over the patter of rain, listening for his team, they would be calling for him, carefully leaning over the edge of the ravine. He took comfort in knowing they would be searching. There was no doubt in his mind; Sheppard would come.
Cold. Wet. Pain.
He must have blacked out again. Couldn't jerk awake from a spasm of pain, otherwise. Where was Sheppard? This was taking too long.
An hour to the gate, they had been treading carefully, slowly, because of the wet, slick dirt path. Marines on a mission made better time. Sheppard intent on a rescue made better time. The team had slowed their pace to match Rodney, in the middle, with Teyla at his back and Ronan on their six, the way they usually hiked, following Sheppard.
He had been following Sheppard.
Oh, God.
He had been following Sheppard.
And the path had gone out from under the Colonel. One moment he'd been there, the next, he'd been gone, and the moment after that, the path had gone out from under Rodney as well, and he had been tumbling, falling, skidding on his back down into the ravine, part of the landslide. The last thing he heard before the roar of the mudslide had drowned out everything else had been Teyla's screaming of his name.
Sheppard had gone down first. Rodney sobbed once, quietly, before blackness overtook him, Sheppard wasn't coming. Not this time.
A steady beeping above his shoulder annoyed Rodney into opening his eyes. He saw the pastel of the infirmary privacy curtains. His left wrist was wrapped in gauze. He couldn't feel his left shoulder, which indicated he'd been given the good stuff to dull the pain. He loved getting the good stuff. It dulled everything. All the hurt. It meant he didn't have to answer the questions he knew would come. No immediate debriefing. It was not time to remember seeing Sheppard fall yet. He closed his eyes and let himself float off.
"Rodney? Rodney. Rod-neee. C'mon wake up. I'm bored and my DS batteries are dead."
He grunted, waved his right hand in dismissal, and mumbled, "You forgot to recharge it again, didn't you?"
"Can I use your laptop? Zelenka left it when he was here before."
Good old reliable Zelenka the Smuggler. "Yeah, sure." Rodney tried to let the good stuff take him away again, but apparently, the good stuff had been discontinued, since he was now starting to feel the dull ache of his injuries. Wait. He jolted awake again. Sheppard?
Sheppard was splayed out in the visitor's chair beside his bed, tapping away at the keys on Rodney's laptop. The Colonel had numerous scratches and bruises showing on the skin not covered by infirmary issued scrubs, but otherwise seemed fine.
"You're not dead."
Sheppard looked up and smirked. "Neither are you. Took us a while to get to you, you slid all the way down a mountain."
"You're not dead."
"Hit a tree, broke a rib." Sheppard casually waved a hand at his midsection.
"You came for me."
"Of course I did."
"Of course you did. You always do."
Story Title: Methodical
Character/Relationships: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Rating: NC-17 to be safe
Warnings: Language, Slash, Sex
Rodney doesn't like change. Sometimes, he'll make exceptions, but mostly only when he has no other choice. Coming to Atlantis though… It was quite possibly the biggest change he’s ever made, but it didn’t take long for him to slip into a routine here either.
Sleep. Eat. Work. Eat. Run for his life from life-sucking alien vampires. Eat. John.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
Sometimes a briefing with Elizabeth, or maybe a check-up with Beckett, but for the most part, his schedule doesn’t vary and he likes that.
Kind of.
The day is drawing to a close. The soft glow of the moonlight illuminates the room as he eats alone. Outside, the hallways are nearly empty, save for the ranking Military Officer skulking through the hallways, avoiding the marines on patrol and the night owls who are finally coming alive.
The quiet rapping on the door doesn’t startle him. Instead, he begins to burn somewhere deep in his belly and his cock is already springing to life. It’s a Pavlovian response.
“Come in,” he calls. It’s quiet, but he doesn’t have to repeat himself because John is already slipping into the room.
“Hey buddy,” he greets, already unbuttoning his shirt.
Rodney wants to offer him dinner, because it seems like the right thing to do, but that would be a variation, so he doesn’t. Instead, he pops the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth and pushes himself to his feet, hands flying to the button on his BDUs.
They’re silent as they undress, but the sound of Rodney’s heart thudding in his chest floods his ears and the silence doesn’t seem so oppressive.
His clothes mingle with John’s on the floor and then they’re on the bed. There’s no kissing on the mouth; never has been, but that’s one of John’s rules. Rodney hates it, but doesn’t fight it because whether they’re here or out in the field, John’s rules trump Rodney’s.
Even if Rodney does really want to kiss him.
The sound of John popping the top on the lube sounds obscene and it’s all Rodney can do to bite back a hysterical giggle. John doesn’t like when he giggles though, so he closes his eyes and clenches the sheets in his big hands as a warm, slick finger enters him.
It burns, but it’s a good burn. He likes the way John stretches him. It isn’t long before a second digit joins the first. It’s standard operating procedure but it takes Rodney by surprise every time.
“Tell me you’re good, Rodney,” John gasps, grinding himself against Rodney. “Can you handle it?”
“Ye-“He clears his throat. “Yeah. Go ahead, John.”
Rodney feels empty when John pulls his fingers out of his ass. He moans at the loss, but before he has an opportunity to get impatient about it, John’s there again, shoving his cock in slowly.
“Oh…”
“You okay, buddy?”
Rodney nods because he feels like it’s probably a little too gay to admit that no, he’s not just okay, he’s amazing.
There’s nothing romantic about the way they fuck. It’s hot, of course, because hello, John Sheppard is fucking him into the mattress, but it’s a little cold too. Clinical, maybe. It’s done more out of need than want because John’s not really gay. He just needs the release and nobody gets him like Rodney does.
At least that’s what John keeps telling himself but it’s just another sad part of their routine.
They don’t prolong it. Most of the time, John is so wired before he even shows up that he’s coming after a couple spectacularly hard thrusts; maybe sooner if Rodney clenches around him, but Rodney doesn’t do that very often.
It usually takes Rodney a little longer. John’s decent enough to stick around and offer a hand but as soon as Rodney explodes all over his chest and belly, John’s pulling away, reaching for the tissues beside the bed.
Most of the time, Rodney doesn’t move as John’s cleaning up. Tonight, though, he rolls onto his side, ignoring the sticky mess coating his gut and leaking out of his ass as he props himself up on one arm, watching John carefully.
John says nothing as he pushes himself to his feet. He dresses quickly, his back still to Rodney and it’s not until he’s halfway out the door that he speaks.
“Thanks buddy.”
Just like that, he’s gone and all Rodney thinks is missing is a pile of bills tossed carelessly onto the bedside table.
Rodney doesn’t like change, but this is one routine that he thinks he could do without.
Maybe one day, he’ll tell John.
Story Title: Routines
Character/Relationships: John/Rodney pre-slash
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Rodney nearly growled when he caught himself looking at his watch for the fifth time in the past twenty minutes. He would be damned if he ever admitted it to anyone, but five o'clock--when John usually turned up to drag him off to dinner--had quickly become his favorite time of day.
He couldn't pinpoint when it had happened, but he figured it was sometime after he nearly drowned in the stupid Jumper. Probably had something to do with the fact that he had resigned himself to dying, but he wasn't going to bother getting into all of that psychological nonsense.
No, all he was concerned with at the moment was the fact that Sheppard was now officially twenty-two minutes late. With a sigh and another hopeful glance toward the door, he turned back to his computer, his fingers moving over the keyboard quickly as he worked on a project he had decided to push back until tomorrow.
"Can't believe he's late." McKay muttered, stabbing the 'enter' button a little harder than necessary. "He's *never* late."
It was true. The Colonel was never late to anything, despite the fact that his permanently mussed hair painted a picture of a man who was unable to be on time.
"Were you sayin' somethin', McKay?"
Rodney nearly fell off the stool he was sitting on as he spun around, struggling to keep the wide smile that was pulling at the corners of his crooked mouth from spreading across his face. "Huh? Oh...just talking to myself."
John cocked an eyebrow and nodded, pushing himself off of the wall next to the lab doors. "What are you workin' on?"
"Just some...uh..." He hesitated, having nearly forgotten what he was working on. Nothing irritated him more than the fact that Colonel John Sheppard could make his mind completely numb, and based on the smug grin plastered across his face, he knew it. "I was working on re-routing the power supply. There were some failures in the outlying parts of the city this afternoon."
"That, uh...sounds like fun."
"Yes, yes, well not everyone can afford to prance around the city all day making her bend to their every whim."
Rodney couldn't help the shiver that ran down his spine at the sound of Sheppard's laughter. It was a bark of sorts, but it never failed to make his body stand up and take notice, which was embarrassing in and of itself.
"I prance, huh?" He asked, leaning forward and resting his chin in his hand.
"I didn't mean...you're taking what I said the wrong way."
"Lighten up, McKay." John grinned, standing up and clapping him on the shoulder before heading toward the door of the lab. "C'mon. We're missin' dinner. It's almost-meatloaf night." He paused at the door, waving his hand at the crystals before looking back over his shoulder. "It's your favorite." He added, a teasing sing-song tone to his voice.
He couldn't help but roll his eyes. Pushing himself up from the stool, he closed his computer and picked it up, tucking it under his arm on the way to the door. John clapped him on the shoulder again as he passed, keeping his hand on his shoulder as they walked toward the mess hall.
"Sorry I was late."
"You were? I hardly noticed."
Sheppard chuckled quietly, running his thumb over Rodney's shoulder absently. "I got here as quick as I could. Wouldn't want to screw up your routine, you know."
"Yes, well...while I am a creature of habit, Colonel, I am also a grown-up. I'm capable of taking care of myself."
"Sure you are, McKay." He teased, shaking his head as they entered the mess hall. "Sure you are."