Need: fic written in response to Artword challenge 001A
I'm not really a McKay/Sheppard shipper when writing fic in general, but I can't resist these vid challenges. :D
Squee! *Hugs personalised vid copy to herself.* It's here. Chocolate and peanut butter baby!
a more permanent link for this file now at my filefront account (9.02mb)
Title: Need (of a Touch)
Author: Starrylizard
Characters: McKay/Sheppard, Beckett, Weir
Rating: I’m going with NC17+, for some mild Mckay/Sheppard smut
Notes: This is a sequel to Memory in a Touch (though it should stand by itself as well) and was written in response to the Artword challenge 001A. (Challenge: Write a fic in response to the vid prompt. Fic must have a one word title.) Thanks to rinkle for the beta. Also posted to Artword here
Summary: They thought they could ignore it, but the need had never left them.
As Colonel Sheppard strode through the gate, his long legs quickly carried him halfway across the Gate room before he was even aware he was moving. From behind him, Kavanagh, Cadman, Teyla and Ronan emerged at a slower pace. There was no real need to hurry. The mission had, for the most part, been uneventful and yet John had found himself feeling on-edge the whole time he was away. It wasn’t unusual for a soldier to be alert and prepared, but this feeling went way beyond the usual…it was gut-wrenching, like something was terribly wrong, but he couldn’t place his finger on it. He could tell Teyla had picked up on his mood, but since he couldn’t explain it, he wasn’t about to try. He now found himself surprised, and somewhat annoyed, that upon entering the Gate room, the feeling still remained. For some reason he had assumed that coming home would have alleviated this feeling, whatever it was.
Dr Elizabeth Weir walked up to greet the team, standing in his immediate path and forcing him to stop. “Welcome back, Colonel. Anything to report?”
John meant to answer her question. He meant to tell her that the mission was uneventful and that the people on the planet were friendly, but had little to offer. He meant to say all that, and so he surprised himself when instead he asked, “Is McKay back yet?”
Obviously it wasn’t what Dr Weir had expected either, as shown by a quick raise of one eyebrow, but she answered him nonetheless.
“Yes, actually. His team arrived back early. Apparently McKay drove them all to work double time, because for some reason that he refused to explain to the rest of the team, or me for that matter, he urgently needed to get back. Carson ran the usual post mission medical exams and decided to keep Rodney in the infirmary for a while under observation - something about showing signs of stress. You can find him there.”
John nodded and looked away; a sense of relief he didn’t understand, nor cared to admit, had just washed over him. McKay was in Atlantis.
“Well, we’d better be heading over there too, then. Post mission medical examinations and all that.”
At this, Elizabeth couldn’t help but look a little stunned. John Sheppard was apparently volunteering to head over to the infirmary for a post mission check-up, which definitely wasn’t his usual style.
“What, John Sheppard offering to go to the infirmary without a fight? Are you sure you’re feeling all right? Okay then, tell Carson I expect you back for debriefing in an hour.”
With a nod of acknowledgement, John was already walking again, leaving a slightly perplexed Weir, who only received confused shrugs from the rest of the team in response to her questioning looks.
********
“I’m telling you Carson, I’m fine. How much longer do you expect me to just sit around here? I’m an important man, with important things to do.”
Rodney sat on the edge of an infirmary bed. He was still almost fully clothed in his off world gear, minus the flak jacket, and he seemed to be in a continual state of movement. Meanwhile, Dr Beckett was valiantly trying to take his blood pressure.
“Rodney, would you please stop your squirming? I beg to differ; you’re definitely not fine. Your heart rate is up, you can’t seem to sit still and,” Beckett finally ripped off the Velcro blood pressure cuff, “your blood pressure is up as well. You’re not going anywhere lad, so just settle down.”
“But I have to get out of here. I need…”
“Need what Rodney?” Carson’s voice softened, but he let slip a slightly exasperated sigh. He looked into Rodney’s face and placed a light restraining hand on his shoulder.
“I need… something…” Rodney placed his hands over his face, shaking his head and rocking slightly. “I don’t know, but it’s not here. I have to get out of here.” He ran his hands through his hair. Carson gripped Rodney’s shoulder slightly harder, trying to comfort him, but looking concerned. “I can’t help you, if you don’t tell me Rodney.”
********
John strode toward the infirmary like a man with a purpose, but he could never have expected the scene that he walked into. The infirmary doors slid silently open to reveal a frightened Carson backing toward him, his hands held high in a sign of surrender. His voice cracked slightly as he spoke.
“Now son, you don’t need to do this. You don’t really want to hurt me. If you’d just put down the gun, we can talk about it. I’m sure we can figure out what it is that you need.”
Sheppard reflexively drew his own weapon in a steady two-handed grip, as he carefully edged further into the room. He braced himself, weapon at the ready, before moving into view, facing the gunman. He was startled to find himself faced with a highly agitated Rodney McKay; his field weapon was held in shaking hands, but aimed squarely at Carson.
“Rodney?”
John’s weapon and his eyes, the latter wide with disbelief, remained trained on his best friend.
“What in god’s name has gotten into you?”
Rodney whimpered and his eyes widened briefly in confusion as John came into view and, almost before John had finished speaking, he spread his arms wide, dropping the weapon down so that it hung loosely from his right hand. His empty hand moved up to his mouth, shame and confusion causing him to shake even more violently.
“No, no, no, no…I didn’t. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. Not Carson. I wouldn’t. I… Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I just, I…”
He continued to babble incoherently as he backed himself up against the nearest wall and slid down to the floor, dropping the gun and cradling his head in his arms. John absently gave a reassuring pat to Carson, as he passed the doctor, before kneeling down next to Rodney. Rodney looked up into his face.
“I need you,” he whispered.
As Rodney reached tentatively out to touch his face, John suddenly knew what he had been missing for the last two weeks. The light touch coursed through his body, as the connection he’d been missing suddenly returned and with it, the realization that he needed Rodney too.
It had been several months since he and Rodney had, through some quirk of fate, been accidentally linked to each other via their ATA genes and some Ancient ‘green goo’. As far as Carson could make sense of it, the ‘goo’ had enabled them to each tap into the other’s mind, just as they might tap into a piece of Ancient technology, forming an incredibly intimate link. For a time, they had been able to see, hear and sense each other’s thoughts and feelings, to the point where it became hard to even tell which individual memories belonged to which man. Since that time, the substance, which had made its way deep into each of their tissues, had broken down into smaller chemical compounds within their system, but not disappeared entirely. Dr Beckett had been hopeful that these breakdown products from the ‘goo’ were inactive, but his studies had not been conclusive and, if anything, they had suggested that even these breakdown products were still able to interact with the ATA protein.
It would be an understatement to say that Rodney and John had learnt a lot about each other on that fateful ‘goo’-filled day, but in the confusion that followed, they had attempted to ignore what they had learnt - had attempted to go about their regular duties as if nothing had happened.
It was only now that John thought about it, that he realized they had found almost any excuse for physical contact since that time; a touch as they both reached for the same coffee pot in the mess hall, a tackle as one knocked the other out of the path of a bullet, a pat on the shoulder in greeting, or a high five for luck. The link had never really been broken. It was more subtle, but it had never ceased to be there and now, after just a few weeks spent apart while Rodney oversaw some off-world repairs, John realized he was in desperate need. The simple touch of Rodney’s hand on his face only acted to make the ache of gut-wrenching longing, that he had unconsciously been trying to silence, all that much stronger.
John leaned into the touch, wrapping his arms gently around Rodney’s shaking body and the rest of the world seemed to fade away. They must have stayed like that for some time, because when John next became aware of his surrounding someone was gently talking and shaking him. It was Carson. As he spoke, he removed a blood pressure cuff from his arm and placed it onto Rodney’s. John hadn’t even noticed the cuff going on.
“…and I had the nurse prepare the quarantine room for you. You can stay there tonight. You’ll be close, should you need me, but I assure you your privacy otherwise. Come on lads. Stand up now. That’s right.”
Somehow Carson managed to gently jostle the both of them into the medical quarantine bay without a peep of protest and then the door closed behind them.
*******
John couldn’t remember how the two single mattresses had moved from the beds and somehow joined together on the floor. He had little recollection of how he found himself undressed and was only vaguely aware of his own hands helping to undress Rodney. He only remembered the need for more skin, skin which he could touch and hold against his own. He tingled with each new point of contact, unbearable and pleasurable all at once.
He could sense the same need in Rodney and they moved gently, but urgently, attempting to increase the contact, but apparently never quite satisfied that they had enough. Rodney whimpered slightly and John paused briefly to gaze directly into his blue eyes. He could see his own confusion and fear reflected in Rodney’s gaze and found it strangely comforting. They had both been avoiding this, whatever this was, and now they were both unsure, but the need was there, driving them on anyway.
He continued to stare into Rodney’s eyes, as he brought his head down until their foreheads touched, finding one more point of contact as their noses met and he could feel the warm, moist breath on his mouth. Their lips touched, Rodney’s hands traced his body, ruffled his hair. John’s hands traced lines of their own. He sighed and smiled, as Rodney pushed, forcing him to roll over and they tumbled in a mess of sheets. This was what he had needed - the intimacy of a touch that he could only find here, in Rodney...
********
Carson awoke with a start, lifting his head up from where it had been resting upon his arms. His back cracked as he sat up and peered sheepishly around to be sure no one had caught him sleeping at his desk again. The previous night, he had satisfied himself that McKay’s vitals were back within normal range, before ushering both he and Sheppard into the only private room available. He had then found himself awake most of the night, wracked with worry, but not daring to disturb them. They hadn’t hit the emergency button and he had left them alone as promised. Now, with the other medical staff due to arrive for the day shift any time soon, Carson wandered into the other room and tentatively peered in through the small window situated in the door of the quarantine bay. What he saw put his mind at ease as far as the duo’s health was concerned and also answered a few niggling scientific questions about whether the ‘green goo’ was still active in their systems in some way.
The two men slept soundly on the mattresses that had been pushed together on the floor, their bodies only covered lightly by the tangled sheets, their hands clasped tightly between them. If it weren’t for the lack of clothing, it could have been the exact same sleeping position they had ended up in after the now infamous incident with the ‘green goo’.
What Carson couldn’t see and would never know, however, was that Rodney was dreaming about flying a Blackhawk helicopter, the metallic bird responding like a dream beneath his hands, his blood rushing at the exhilaration flight always brought. Meanwhile, John dreamt about the beautifully intricate patterns of stars and planets, the complicated construction of nuclear devices that felt like child’s play under his steady hands, the finer points of fluid dynamics, and the friendly welcome purr of a tabby cat named TabbyCat that he’d had to leave behind on Earth. Even as he dreamt, John had to smile at the misfortunate cat’s name.
TabbyCat?
Well, it’s a cat and it’s a tabby right, so I called it TabbyCat…
You really shouldn’t name anything Rodney.
As Carson watched, a contented smile spread across both men’s lips and he decided to leave them be for a while longer.
Update (11/4/06): Now continues with Lovers Touch.
Squee! *Hugs personalised vid copy to herself.* It's here. Chocolate and peanut butter baby!
a more permanent link for this file now at my filefront account (9.02mb)
Title: Need (of a Touch)
Author: Starrylizard
Characters: McKay/Sheppard, Beckett, Weir
Rating: I’m going with NC17+, for some mild Mckay/Sheppard smut
Notes: This is a sequel to Memory in a Touch (though it should stand by itself as well) and was written in response to the Artword challenge 001A. (Challenge: Write a fic in response to the vid prompt. Fic must have a one word title.) Thanks to rinkle for the beta. Also posted to Artword here
Summary: They thought they could ignore it, but the need had never left them.
As Colonel Sheppard strode through the gate, his long legs quickly carried him halfway across the Gate room before he was even aware he was moving. From behind him, Kavanagh, Cadman, Teyla and Ronan emerged at a slower pace. There was no real need to hurry. The mission had, for the most part, been uneventful and yet John had found himself feeling on-edge the whole time he was away. It wasn’t unusual for a soldier to be alert and prepared, but this feeling went way beyond the usual…it was gut-wrenching, like something was terribly wrong, but he couldn’t place his finger on it. He could tell Teyla had picked up on his mood, but since he couldn’t explain it, he wasn’t about to try. He now found himself surprised, and somewhat annoyed, that upon entering the Gate room, the feeling still remained. For some reason he had assumed that coming home would have alleviated this feeling, whatever it was.
Dr Elizabeth Weir walked up to greet the team, standing in his immediate path and forcing him to stop. “Welcome back, Colonel. Anything to report?”
John meant to answer her question. He meant to tell her that the mission was uneventful and that the people on the planet were friendly, but had little to offer. He meant to say all that, and so he surprised himself when instead he asked, “Is McKay back yet?”
Obviously it wasn’t what Dr Weir had expected either, as shown by a quick raise of one eyebrow, but she answered him nonetheless.
“Yes, actually. His team arrived back early. Apparently McKay drove them all to work double time, because for some reason that he refused to explain to the rest of the team, or me for that matter, he urgently needed to get back. Carson ran the usual post mission medical exams and decided to keep Rodney in the infirmary for a while under observation - something about showing signs of stress. You can find him there.”
John nodded and looked away; a sense of relief he didn’t understand, nor cared to admit, had just washed over him. McKay was in Atlantis.
“Well, we’d better be heading over there too, then. Post mission medical examinations and all that.”
At this, Elizabeth couldn’t help but look a little stunned. John Sheppard was apparently volunteering to head over to the infirmary for a post mission check-up, which definitely wasn’t his usual style.
“What, John Sheppard offering to go to the infirmary without a fight? Are you sure you’re feeling all right? Okay then, tell Carson I expect you back for debriefing in an hour.”
With a nod of acknowledgement, John was already walking again, leaving a slightly perplexed Weir, who only received confused shrugs from the rest of the team in response to her questioning looks.
********
“I’m telling you Carson, I’m fine. How much longer do you expect me to just sit around here? I’m an important man, with important things to do.”
Rodney sat on the edge of an infirmary bed. He was still almost fully clothed in his off world gear, minus the flak jacket, and he seemed to be in a continual state of movement. Meanwhile, Dr Beckett was valiantly trying to take his blood pressure.
“Rodney, would you please stop your squirming? I beg to differ; you’re definitely not fine. Your heart rate is up, you can’t seem to sit still and,” Beckett finally ripped off the Velcro blood pressure cuff, “your blood pressure is up as well. You’re not going anywhere lad, so just settle down.”
“But I have to get out of here. I need…”
“Need what Rodney?” Carson’s voice softened, but he let slip a slightly exasperated sigh. He looked into Rodney’s face and placed a light restraining hand on his shoulder.
“I need… something…” Rodney placed his hands over his face, shaking his head and rocking slightly. “I don’t know, but it’s not here. I have to get out of here.” He ran his hands through his hair. Carson gripped Rodney’s shoulder slightly harder, trying to comfort him, but looking concerned. “I can’t help you, if you don’t tell me Rodney.”
********
John strode toward the infirmary like a man with a purpose, but he could never have expected the scene that he walked into. The infirmary doors slid silently open to reveal a frightened Carson backing toward him, his hands held high in a sign of surrender. His voice cracked slightly as he spoke.
“Now son, you don’t need to do this. You don’t really want to hurt me. If you’d just put down the gun, we can talk about it. I’m sure we can figure out what it is that you need.”
Sheppard reflexively drew his own weapon in a steady two-handed grip, as he carefully edged further into the room. He braced himself, weapon at the ready, before moving into view, facing the gunman. He was startled to find himself faced with a highly agitated Rodney McKay; his field weapon was held in shaking hands, but aimed squarely at Carson.
“Rodney?”
John’s weapon and his eyes, the latter wide with disbelief, remained trained on his best friend.
“What in god’s name has gotten into you?”
Rodney whimpered and his eyes widened briefly in confusion as John came into view and, almost before John had finished speaking, he spread his arms wide, dropping the weapon down so that it hung loosely from his right hand. His empty hand moved up to his mouth, shame and confusion causing him to shake even more violently.
“No, no, no, no…I didn’t. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. Not Carson. I wouldn’t. I… Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I just, I…”
He continued to babble incoherently as he backed himself up against the nearest wall and slid down to the floor, dropping the gun and cradling his head in his arms. John absently gave a reassuring pat to Carson, as he passed the doctor, before kneeling down next to Rodney. Rodney looked up into his face.
“I need you,” he whispered.
As Rodney reached tentatively out to touch his face, John suddenly knew what he had been missing for the last two weeks. The light touch coursed through his body, as the connection he’d been missing suddenly returned and with it, the realization that he needed Rodney too.
It had been several months since he and Rodney had, through some quirk of fate, been accidentally linked to each other via their ATA genes and some Ancient ‘green goo’. As far as Carson could make sense of it, the ‘goo’ had enabled them to each tap into the other’s mind, just as they might tap into a piece of Ancient technology, forming an incredibly intimate link. For a time, they had been able to see, hear and sense each other’s thoughts and feelings, to the point where it became hard to even tell which individual memories belonged to which man. Since that time, the substance, which had made its way deep into each of their tissues, had broken down into smaller chemical compounds within their system, but not disappeared entirely. Dr Beckett had been hopeful that these breakdown products from the ‘goo’ were inactive, but his studies had not been conclusive and, if anything, they had suggested that even these breakdown products were still able to interact with the ATA protein.
It would be an understatement to say that Rodney and John had learnt a lot about each other on that fateful ‘goo’-filled day, but in the confusion that followed, they had attempted to ignore what they had learnt - had attempted to go about their regular duties as if nothing had happened.
It was only now that John thought about it, that he realized they had found almost any excuse for physical contact since that time; a touch as they both reached for the same coffee pot in the mess hall, a tackle as one knocked the other out of the path of a bullet, a pat on the shoulder in greeting, or a high five for luck. The link had never really been broken. It was more subtle, but it had never ceased to be there and now, after just a few weeks spent apart while Rodney oversaw some off-world repairs, John realized he was in desperate need. The simple touch of Rodney’s hand on his face only acted to make the ache of gut-wrenching longing, that he had unconsciously been trying to silence, all that much stronger.
John leaned into the touch, wrapping his arms gently around Rodney’s shaking body and the rest of the world seemed to fade away. They must have stayed like that for some time, because when John next became aware of his surrounding someone was gently talking and shaking him. It was Carson. As he spoke, he removed a blood pressure cuff from his arm and placed it onto Rodney’s. John hadn’t even noticed the cuff going on.
“…and I had the nurse prepare the quarantine room for you. You can stay there tonight. You’ll be close, should you need me, but I assure you your privacy otherwise. Come on lads. Stand up now. That’s right.”
Somehow Carson managed to gently jostle the both of them into the medical quarantine bay without a peep of protest and then the door closed behind them.
*******
John couldn’t remember how the two single mattresses had moved from the beds and somehow joined together on the floor. He had little recollection of how he found himself undressed and was only vaguely aware of his own hands helping to undress Rodney. He only remembered the need for more skin, skin which he could touch and hold against his own. He tingled with each new point of contact, unbearable and pleasurable all at once.
He could sense the same need in Rodney and they moved gently, but urgently, attempting to increase the contact, but apparently never quite satisfied that they had enough. Rodney whimpered slightly and John paused briefly to gaze directly into his blue eyes. He could see his own confusion and fear reflected in Rodney’s gaze and found it strangely comforting. They had both been avoiding this, whatever this was, and now they were both unsure, but the need was there, driving them on anyway.
He continued to stare into Rodney’s eyes, as he brought his head down until their foreheads touched, finding one more point of contact as their noses met and he could feel the warm, moist breath on his mouth. Their lips touched, Rodney’s hands traced his body, ruffled his hair. John’s hands traced lines of their own. He sighed and smiled, as Rodney pushed, forcing him to roll over and they tumbled in a mess of sheets. This was what he had needed - the intimacy of a touch that he could only find here, in Rodney...
********
Carson awoke with a start, lifting his head up from where it had been resting upon his arms. His back cracked as he sat up and peered sheepishly around to be sure no one had caught him sleeping at his desk again. The previous night, he had satisfied himself that McKay’s vitals were back within normal range, before ushering both he and Sheppard into the only private room available. He had then found himself awake most of the night, wracked with worry, but not daring to disturb them. They hadn’t hit the emergency button and he had left them alone as promised. Now, with the other medical staff due to arrive for the day shift any time soon, Carson wandered into the other room and tentatively peered in through the small window situated in the door of the quarantine bay. What he saw put his mind at ease as far as the duo’s health was concerned and also answered a few niggling scientific questions about whether the ‘green goo’ was still active in their systems in some way.
The two men slept soundly on the mattresses that had been pushed together on the floor, their bodies only covered lightly by the tangled sheets, their hands clasped tightly between them. If it weren’t for the lack of clothing, it could have been the exact same sleeping position they had ended up in after the now infamous incident with the ‘green goo’.
What Carson couldn’t see and would never know, however, was that Rodney was dreaming about flying a Blackhawk helicopter, the metallic bird responding like a dream beneath his hands, his blood rushing at the exhilaration flight always brought. Meanwhile, John dreamt about the beautifully intricate patterns of stars and planets, the complicated construction of nuclear devices that felt like child’s play under his steady hands, the finer points of fluid dynamics, and the friendly welcome purr of a tabby cat named TabbyCat that he’d had to leave behind on Earth. Even as he dreamt, John had to smile at the misfortunate cat’s name.
TabbyCat?
Well, it’s a cat and it’s a tabby right, so I called it TabbyCat…
You really shouldn’t name anything Rodney.
As Carson watched, a contented smile spread across both men’s lips and he decided to leave them be for a while longer.
Update (11/4/06): Now continues with Lovers Touch.