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sga_flashficTitle: And Sometimes You Get Toasters
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
giddygeek
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay wallow.
Spoilers: Season one, particularly The Storm/The Eye
Notes: 45k--Once again, I fail at flashfic length. This story was for the Enclosed Spaces challenge but pretty much immediately went beyond it. Thankfully,merryish, kaneko astolat all eventually said 'dude, shut up, you're done.' I only wrote 15k after that! And finished just in time for challenge amnesty, yay.
~~~~~
"Rodney, let me ask you a question."
Rodney didn't look up from his attempts to free his hands. "Yes? What? 'Would you like me to help you get free?' perhaps, or 'how about I cut those ropes for you and we run, run, run before the crazy people with spears come back?'"
John shook his head, repressing a grin. "The crazy spear people are currently being de-speared by Teyla and Ford," he said, watching as Rodney's hands twisted, flexed against the rope binding them. "Did you know that their weird science loonies have laced the blow darts with something they say is guaranteed to knock out anyone, even the Wraith?"
"Just be glad the blow darts weren't laced with something that sent me into anaphylactic shock, Major. Your rescue--if that is what this is, I think you can understand that I have some concerns--would have been far less successful if you'd found me here on the floor, dead as a doornail." He twisted his wrists one more time, then hissed and held his hands out, glaring. "Now that I've answered your question, would you mind?"
John leaned back against the rough wall of the cell. "That wasn't my question," he drawled. "I just wanted to check and make sure you knew what it was that had taken you down long enough for the crazy spear people to get you here, all nice and cozy and wrapped up like a Christmas present for the science loonies. Because if you did, I thought, well, maybe next time he'll be a little more cautious."
"They said they had a ZPM, Major, and apparently I'm helpless before the siren call of saving the universe from the Wraith." Rodney rolled his eyes. "Terribly sorry; perhaps next time I'll wait for you and Teyla and Ford to come back from your game of, what was that, Charades? before I walk off with a gorgeous young science loony who, quite without my knowing it, has hidden a blow dart in her blouse. Do you want me to lose circulation to my hands, or have I just not made it clear enough that I'd like to be cut free?"
A quick glance showed that the ropes were nowhere near tight enough to do any damage. "The science loonies wanted you whole," John said. "I'm not worried about it. But hey, speaking of. Do you deliberately try to get the science loonies of other planets to abduct you, or is it really just a coincidence that on four out of seven almost civilized planets, I have had to crawl into some dark, dank hole and get you out?"
Rodney glared a little more ferociously. "If I answer this question, do I get to go home?"
"You get to go home either way, it's just that you can either go home on the end of that rope, or not." John shrugged. "I'd recommend not. Our people, you know, kinda gossipy."
"Not 'kind of'. It's like a nest of vipers in that city."
John raised his eyebrows. "I don't know about that, Rodney. More like little old neighbor ladies, I'd say."
"Yes, exactly, vipers. My hands?"
"My question?"
Rodney dropped his chin to his chest and sighed heavily, the weight of John's stupidity clearly becoming too much for him to bear. "No, Major. It's not deliberate. They're just powerless against the force of my genius, charisma, and did I mention my genius?"
"I'm sorry, did you just mention your charisma?"
Rodney held his hands up again without lifting his head. John grinned and then knelt beside him. The floor was warm, and kind of squishy for something made of rock. Not pleasant. He made a face, then poked at the ropes. They were spaghetti thin and endlessly looped and knotted around Rodney's wide, pale wrists, halfway up his forearms. The ropes looped back under to Rodney's knees, where they were knotted in a similar pattern, and then down to a bolt set in the floor. "Crazy spear Boy Scouts," John said in admiration, then slid his knife gently through the first loop.
They were much stronger than they looked, and although they weren't tied too tightly, there wasn't much room between them and Rodney's wrists. "Relax your hands," he murmured, and Rodney's fists unclenched a little. John looked up at him. "Relax 'em more."
Rodney bared his teeth but laid his hands out flat. They were trembling, just a little. "Now Rodney, you're not scared I'm gonna cut you, right?" John asked, carefully going back to work with the knife. There was more room to maneuver now that Rodney's wrists weren't tensed. He got through one loop and tugged experimentally, but it wasn't enough. He prodded at the ropes with his free hand, chose a second site, and began to cut again. "Seriously, not gonna cut you," he said. "Unless you keep shaking, in which case hey, I can't be blamed."
"I'm not scared," Rodney said fiercely, and John looked up.
"Rodney?"
"I'm not," Rodney insisted, and met John's gaze. "My blood sugar is low, that's all."
John raised an eyebrow. "You just ate two hours ago."
"Yes, and then I was shot with a dart, and maybe I didn't go into shock but God only knows how it did affect me. Then you stood around playing twenty questions, and now I'm having a hypoglycemic reaction, and--"
"And shut up," John said. He sat back on his heels, frowning, then put the knife down and started poking in his pockets. Rodney's hypoglycemia wasn't just a handy excuse for all kinds of bad behavior, John had worked with him long enough to know that. But his hand had slid across the long, thin line of the scar the Genii knife had left on Rodney's forearm and he thought he got it.
John found a Powerbar and broke off a chunk, held it out. Rodney looked at his hand, incredulous, then met his gaze and shook his head. "I am not eating from your hand, Major."
John grinned and waved the bit of Powerbar enticingly. "Eat it, stop shaking, and we can get out of here."
Rodney frowned at him, and bit down on the Powerbar. John went back to work with the knife, and found it easier with Rodney distracted--no more shakes (though the Powerbar couldn't possibly have brought up his blood sugar so fast) and no more arguing. His hands were free in just minutes, and John handed him the rest of the bar and went to work on the ropes that bound his knees.
"You know, this visit wasn't all bad," Rodney said after a moment, through a mouthful of Powerbar. "They make a type of cake here that we should consider highly valuable in tra--"
"You still think we should trade with the crazy spear people and the loony scientists?"
"Did you meet any of the amazing cook people? No? Then you couldn't possibly understand. They have this cream-filled pastry that, mmm, yes. A brisk slap on the wrist for my abduction, an agreement that provides us with a lot of pastry, and possibly some of the rope, the blow dart toxin, and some of those five-legged chicken things--we could be very good friends with these people."
John shook his head, then finished cutting through the rope around McKay's knees. "And if they didn't have pastry?"
"Oh, a brisk slap on the wrist followed by some beheadings, I think. Can I get up yet?"
"You're an interesting man, Rodney," John said dryly, sheathing his knife before climbing to his feet. "C'mon, you're free, you can get up." He held out a hand and Rodney scrambled up and stumbled. His grip on John's hand was painfully tight for a moment before he dropped it and stamped away, cursing.
"Whole damn galaxy is full of pins and needles," he said when he caught sight of John's raised eyebrows. "Pins and needles, and, and knives, and big scary killer guys with truly disgusting dental hygiene and entire civilizations of crazies. Is it so wrong to hope for at least some good pastry in return?"
He was oddly hunched over, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, rubbing his hands and wrists and glaring. John had to hide his grin behind his hand. "You're right," he said. "The galaxy does owe you pastry. You ready to get out of here?"
"Oh, now we're in a hurry?" Rodney grumbled, shaking his hands. "An argument could be made for the fact that I've been ready to get out of here since before I got in here as I didn't come in under my own--get your hand off me, Sheppard, I'm fully capable of finding the door myself."
John tightened his grip on Rodney's elbow and smiled. "And yet, not so much with the leaving. I'm just making sure we get out of here before you give in to the siren call of sugar and decide to stay for cake." He pulled McKay from the room and tapped his comm. "Ford, Teyla. Things still under control up there?"
A second's pause, and then, "Yes, sir. Is Dr. McKay all right?"
"Dr. McKay would be much better if your CO wasn't an arrogant, sarcastic son of a bitch," Rodney said.
"Dr. McKay would be much better if he didn't keep taking off after the people who promise him their nonexistent ZPMs before checking with the rest of his team," John said, loosening his grip a little since Rodney wasn't struggling to get his arm free anymore. "Which he seems unlikely to manage. Maybe, next mission, we'll arrange a McKay-sitting schedule. Teyla, what do you think?"
"Teyla thinks she'd rather be traded off this team than subject me to that kind of indignity, Major."
"And yet, I think it is worth discussing," Teyla said. "It seems it is either that, or Dr. McKay ceases to join us on our excursions."
Rodney jerked to a halt and looked at John.
"Don't be stupid," John said, pulling him back into motion. "No, not you, Teyla. We'll be back on the surface in a moment. Dial up the gate so we can just get out of here."
"No cake? Maybe I'll sit out the next mission voluntarily."
"Will you stop it? We'll send someone back for the damned cake." John hustled Rodney up the last flight of stairs and into the dimming sunlight of M5L-466. Ford and Teyla were hovering in front of the gate, guns at the ready, wary eyes on the crowd of Dalans, all of whom were flat on their faces in the vast muddy patch that was their common.
Ford beamed at them. "Good to see you, Doctor."
"Yes, I know, thank you." Rodney tugged his arm again and John let go--no reason to keep his grip, now that they were topside. Freed, Rodney turned to face the cowering Dalans. "You are all very annoying," he announced in a loud, carrying voice. "Also, your mathematicians are pathetically stupid. Goodbye."
Ford watched Rodney stomp through the gate. "Well," he said, "he is kinda making progress. This time he didn't rant long enough for anyone to take a potshot at him."
"It's not learning, it's greed," John said dryly. "He's hoping to preserve his chance to get good cake."
~~~~~
John leaned back in his chair as Rodney tried to explain himself to Elizabeth. It wasn't going very well for him, which made it a lot of fun to watch.
"I had my reasons," Rodney said. "You've heard the words zero point module before?"
Elizabeth nodded. "Once or twice," she murmured. "I believe I even understand the importance of a ZPM to our mission. However, I believe I also understand your importance to this mission, Rodney, and therefore I have to ask you to stop giving chase every time you hear a rumor--"
Rodney crossed his arms over his chest, scowling. "Glad as I am to hear someone acknowledge my worth, I have to say that I'll only stop when things like, oh, power and shields and working technology are no longer problems for us! Until then--"
John shook his head. "No, you won't," he said. "Don't look at me like that, I can't help it if you've become an adrenaline junkie."
Ford snickered and Teyla smiled, and Elizabeth looked down at the table top to hide her expression. Rodney, though, was still looking at John, expression all at once shock and horror and something that might've been glee. "My God," he said. "That's exactly what you've done!"
John slung an arm over the back of his chair and gave Rodney his most innocent and bemused look. "Me?" he said. "Uh-uh. I had nothing to do with it."
Rodney snorted. "Elizabeth, what are your favorite things ever? Top three. Fast."
"Peaceful days. Sunsets over the West Pier," Elizabeth said, quickly, almost like she'd been waiting for someone to ask. She looked up from her intensive study of the table, and she was smiling. "Breakfast in bed."
"Ford?"
"Chocolate, girls with southern accents, and dogs."
"In that order?" John asked, interested, and Ford grinned at him.
"Sometimes reversed, sir."
Rodney ignored them. "Teyla?"
Teyla blinked at him. "I...find there are far too many things that I enjoy, Dr. McKay. I do not know that I could select three favorites."
"Try."
"Well." Teyla frowned. "There were days in the woods, when we were hunting, and the sunlight was pale and beautiful through the leaves. I did love those days. And playing with the children brings me joy." Her eyes went a little dreamy, her frown fading. "And I have always enjoyed defeating my challengers in combat."
Ford raised his hand. "Oh, me too, can I go in with Teyla on the combat thing?"
"Me three." John smiled at Rodney. "I also like popcorn and getting-to-know-you-games. This was a good one. Can we go back to yelling at you about the ZPM thing now?"
"Major, please. You like things that go really fast, things that go really high, and defeating your challengers in combat," Rodney said. "If I've developed a, a thrill seeking disorder, it's all due to spending far too much time locked in a jumper with you and your fly-boy mentality, and therefore I can't be blamed for my actions."
"Rodney," Elizabeth said, a clear warning in her voice.
"Oh, fine. Fine. I promise to at least warn someone before I and my rushing adrenaline go off to save all of our lives. There. Is everyone happy now? Can I go back to my lab, or do I need to wait for the crossing guard to walk me down?"
Elizabeth stared at him for a long moment before smiling. "Meeting adjourned. You may go back to your lab, Rodney. Please be careful to look both ways before entering the hall."
Rodney rolled his eyes then pushed back from the table and stalked out of the conference room. Everyone else followed more slowly, and John lingered until Ford's voice, raised for Teyla's benefit in a quavery falsetto version of a southern accent, had faded.
"We'll be keeping an eye on him," he reassured Elizabeth. "I promise."
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "You had better, Major. He holds you responsible, and I can't say that I think he's entirely wrong."
John shrugged. "Me neither," he said, grinning back at Elizabeth when she smiled at him, and then he turned to follow his team down the hall.
~~~~~
Field work wasn't all abductions, murderous villains, and Wraith. There had been times where they went on two or three missions in a row, even, without anyone trying to kill them.
But when they seemed poised to hit a record five flawlessly executed, fruitful and scientifically productive missions after the last abduction, Rodney stalked into their suite of rooms in the palatial estates of N9T-644's ruling family and began wrestling with his vest, cursing under his breath.
"Is something wrong?" Teyla asked. She was already barefoot and stripped of her own vest, and had stopped padding across the common area to her room to raise her eyebrows at Rodney.
"McKay's got a bug up his--nose--cause the Mirkatens aren't providing him with enough gunfire as part of the entertainment," John drawled as he unfastened his own vest. It had been an incredibly long, slow day, full of speeches and food and sitting around in the hot sun. Rodney had been getting progressively more irritated, and irritating. John was ready to toss him off the nearest balcony with or without a shielding device.
"You people are the ones who turned me into this," Rodney bitched, fighting a strap and losing.
John carefully laid his own vest on their couch-thing, then turned to Rodney and pushed his hands down. "You've worn this thing how often, and you can still get it wrong?" He frowned at the twisted straps, poked experimentally. "No, stop messing with it, you're just making it worse--don't ask me how, I couldn't tell you how you possibly--did you fasten it backwards on purpose?"
Rodney sighed and tilted his head down to watch as John unbuckled straps, peeled back velcro. "I slept in it," he said, and even Ford stopped snickering.
"You did...what?"
"I slept in it!" Rodney met his gaze defiantly. "Come on, Major, haven't you even once thought that these missions have been too quiet?"
"No," John said. "Mostly, I've been enjoying the pastoral views and good food and working on my tan. You slept in your vest?"
"I thought I might want to go for a walk! Quiet little planet, nice people, what's the harm in a midnight stroll? It just seemed that wearing the vest would be the wise--well." He paused, fidgeting, then coughed. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."
"Sometimes your good ideas scare me." John unsnapped the last buckle, then gripped the shoulder straps and shook Rodney lightly. "Leave this suite tonight, vest or no vest, ZPM or no ZPM, boredom or mating call of the wild Ferris wheel, I don't care what, and I will...kill...you. Got it?"
Rodney brushed his hands away and stepped back. "I've got it," he said. "No leaving the suite. I can't leave the suite. If I leave the suite, control freaks will get me. Fine. Good night."
"Good night." John watched silently as Rodney stomped into his room and attempted to slam the sliding door shut, then turned to Ford and Teyla. "Night, guys," he said a little too loudly while gesturing from himself to the couch-thing and back again. "See you in the morning."
Ford gave him a thumbs-up and Teyla eyed him for a long moment. He shrugged--what else could he do but stay on the couch? Rodney had slept in his vest, which wasn't even bulletproof--and eventually Teyla nodded and slipped away into her room.
"Night, sir," Ford said. "Night, Dr. McKay."
"Shut up and go to sleep!"
"That's McKay for sweet dreams, Lieutenant Ford," John said as Ford grinned and headed for his own bed, then he turned off the lights and settled down onto the cushions of the couch-thing, which was huge and plush and fuzzy in all the best ways. He made himself comfortable, and closed his eyes to wait for Rodney's escape.
~~~~~
Rodney had gotten pretty good at sneaking. When John had first started training him for missions, how well he could handle a gun had come as a surprise, but not his piss-poor stealth mode. The man lived for attention. John had met guys like that before, guys who couldn't help but want to make an entrance, and had seen a lot of those guys end up as messy little puddles on the ground.
Rodney was smarter than most of the them but as John watched him charge when he should have creeped and creep when he should have crawled, he thought, puddle, and decided not to get too attached.
Gradually, though, Rodney improved. He still shot his mouth off at the least appropriate times, but he'd at least learned how not to stomp where angels would fear to tread. When his bedroom door opened sometime before dawn, it was the nearly silent slide of wooden panels that alerted John, not his footsteps. The door was more than enough notice though; Rodney didn't quite make it out of his room before John had him pinned.
"Can't...breathe," he gasped. "Lungs flattened. Oww."
John eased back a couple inches but kept his arm across Rodney's throat, applying just a little pressure. His other arm was above their heads, holding the hand that had been on the door handle pinned against the wall. He felt Rodney swallow hard, felt the beat of his pulse in his wrist, and smiled. "Good morning, Rodney," he said. "It's a little early to be heading down for the complimentary breakfast buffet, isn't it?"
"It's never too early for the buffet, Major." Rodney flailed and managed to get his free hand on John's chest. He shoved. He was strong, but John was heavier than he looked, and tougher, and he wasn't about to be moved. "Oh, for God's sake," Rodney said. "You've caught me, gold star for you. Could you find your way to backing off now?"
"No," John said, leaning in a little closer. "What was it you said, Rodney? Can't leave the room, control freaks will get me?"
"Uh," Rodney said, weakly, and that was when John closed the last of the distance between them and kissed him--
And that was when the bomb came in through the window and blew the couch thing to smithereens.
~~~~~
"Not my fault," Rodney panted as they ran through the forest surrounding the compound. "Not my fault, not my fault, I didn't offend anyone or tell anyone how smart I was or offer to show them how their science is wrong wrong wrong or kiss anyone or--"
"You'd run a much faster mile if you'd shut up," John said, because he could tell, he could just tell that Ford and Teyla's ears had perked right up for that, like little gossip radars.
And Teyla's voice was shocked when she gasped and said, "Dr. McKay!" but it wasn't the right kind of shocked, not the right kind of shocked at all. John whirled around just as Rodney looked down at his hand, which was covered in blood, then looked up at John.
"So not my fault," he said, and dropped gracelessly to the ground.
~~~~~
Rodney wore two sets of bandages to the post-mission briefing. One was huge and surrounded with medical tape, covering a little scratch over his eye. The other was small and business-like, and covered the six stitches he'd had to get on his neck.
"After a second bomb came through the window, we decided to bravely run away," John told Elizabeth.
"That's when the bastards got me! With a rock! Fired from a slingshot!" Rodney touched the puffy bandage over his eye--where he'd gotten scratched by a tree branch--and scowled. "I am owed so much hazard pay, Elizabeth. When we go home, I'll be able to buy Atlantis."
"He's mostly offended that it wasn't a bullet or bomb shrapnel."
"Slingshots." Rodney snorted. "Such a backward weapon, it's almost an insult."
Elizabeth sighed. "A rock could have killed you as easily as a bullet, Rodney."
"Yes, but with so much less style!"
"I don't know," Ford said. "It's not like people get killed by slingshots every day, you know? It's rare. That almost makes it cool, right?"
"Oh. Right." Rodney sat back in his chair. "I hadn't thought of that. Good point, Ford."
"Nevertheless, I think that death by slingshot is something we should be avoiding," Elizabeth said. "Now. Do any of you know what provoked this attack? It sounds like a fairly routine visit, up until the bombs."
Teyla frowned. "We had thought that the visit was going well. They seemed friendly, and our team was very well-behaved. In this instance, I do not believe that either Major Sheppard or Dr. McKay provoked the people at all."
"Hey," John said. "Me?"
Ford nodded. "It is your fault like half the time, sir," he said, apologetically.
"You cause the most trouble. I just get taken hostage a lot," Rodney said, and John leaned back, thinking about it.
"Huh," he said. "Yeah, I guess that's about right. I still don't feel the need to wear my vest to bed."
Ford grinned, Teyla looked down at the table to hide her almost smile, and Rodney scowled ferociously. Elizabeth just looked at them all, one eyebrow raised, and John smiled blandly back at her. "Team joke," he said. "You had to be there. Anyway, can't lay the blame on ourselves for this one, must've just confused a 'howdy, neighbors' festival for an 'eat well, for at roughly 3 in the morning you will die, intruders' festival."
"In the future, try to be more aware of whether or not you're being fattened up," Elizabeth said. "For now, you're dismissed. Go get some rest. And Rodney? A long and brilliant life is infinitely preferable to a stylish death. Please bear that in mind."
"It's hardly something I'm going to forget," Rodney said wryly, touching the bandage on his neck for the first time since Carson had put it on him. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an urgent--thing--to attend to. Good night."
When he was gone, Elizabeth said, "He didn't call nearly as much attention to the wound as I'd have expected he would. John?"
"I'm on it," John said, and he headed for the labs.
~~~~~
"It's not like some guilt-driven death wish, right?" John asked.
Rodney very carefully turned his head to glare, then went back to clattering away on his laptop. "I have led a fairly blameless life. Oh sure, there was my grunge period but it was the nineties, so I think even that can be forgiven."
John nodded. "Plus, you're Canadian. Your blood is probably part flannel anyway."
"Oh, yes, yes, let's all make Canadian jokes now, eh? Bacon, manners, flannel, ha-ha-ha. Now that you've proven that you're very funny, please go away."
"Can't. Gotta make sure you're not acting out to get attention, testing us to make sure we care, or indulging a death wish. Elizabeth is...concerned."
Rodney didn't look at him. "I'm acting out for attention all the time, Major. You've saved my life often enough that I don't waste a lot of my time wondering if you care, and I've got some issues about all--that--but it's mostly limited to not liking big knives too near my person, and really really hating the Genii."
John nodded. "Yeah, I'm not ready to invite them over for dinner either," he said. "So, really, you just like taking risks now, huh?"
Rodney shrugged and clicked away at his keyboard. "That still seems to be the whole story. Are you going away now, or should I have Teyla come and forcibly evict you?"
"Well." John put a hand on Rodney's forearm, tugging until Rodney had to look away again. "I was thinking," he said, "that if you've got a thing for thrills, I might be able to...help you out." He slid his hand down to Rodney's wrist and feeling the hair and warm skin beneath his palm was more exciting than expected. John couldn't exactly count the number of times he'd felt the crackle of energy that came from contact between them, but apparently, touching with intent made it more. He tightened his grip. "No risk of death, minimal risk of endangerment, and Elizabeth stops looking like she's ready to split up the team any moment."
Rodney's gaze dropped to the hand gripping his wrist and stared there for a long moment before he looked up, shaking his head. "Oh no," he said. "Oh, I think not. What am I, stupid? I've watched television. I know what happens to Kirk's babes, and it's nothing I want happening to me. Get out, Major. Go."
John smiled at him. "I would, if I thought that you really wanted me to go," he said. "But you don't, do you?"
"Yes," Rodney said.
John touched his cheek, touched his temple just beneath where the bandage and tape started and said, "Liar."
"Yeah, okay, I don't do that well," Rodney said before he came up out of his seat in a rush and plastered himself against John, kissing him with a degree of enthusiasm that John matched instantly, a hand on Rodney's wrist and a hand in his hair, tilting Rodney's head to just the right angle, mindful of the wound on his neck but not careful. Not tempered. Hungry.
Oh, yeah. Touching with intent was the best thing ever.
~~~~~
"The Milky Way is not this weird," Rodney said as he and John ran for the gate. "If the price of a populated galaxy is that most of the population is insane, well, I'm not sure it's worth it."
John peered out from the trees, trying to find a sign of danger. Nothing, which meant there were thirteen traps and an army hiding in the long grass of the meadow that stretched between them and safety. Excellent. "Look at it this way, Rodney," he said. "No weirdos, no weird technology. No weird technology, no Nobel prize."
"They'll have to invent a new prize to impress me after all this," Rodney said, waving a hand. "They'll have to invent one, name it after me, put a bust of me on the statue, and promise to award it to me in perpetuity." He followed John into the clearing and bolted, just as the trees where they had been started exploding a little.
"Duck," John said, and they slid to the ground in front of a fallen pillar, remnants of a temple built to worship the Ancients. They were both panting. A fine red powder rained down Rodney's head; the petite female warriors of L3Q-993 were quite unlike Amazons but they had weapons that were not unlike guns, which shot not quite bullets that slammed into the rock they'd ducked behind.
"And I want my award presented to me every three months by naked, leggy blondes," Rodney said. "Tall ones. Really tall. No guns."
John rolled his eyes. "The guns are what gets you going, don't think I don't know that. That thing you do with your mouth gives you away every time." He shook his head at Rodney's belated attempts to stop doing the thing with his mouth, and tapped his comm. "Ford? Teyla? What's your position?"
"We're at the gate now, Major," Teyla said calmly.
"You need cover fire? Because I can give you cover fire," Ford said. Sometimes John thought he was almost a little too eager to provide cover fire. Other times, mostly when tiny little warrior women were trying to make a colander out of his head, it seemed okay.
"Yeah," he said. "We're coming out in three--two--" He pushed and Rodney went, stumbling a little before he was crouching almost low enough, thank God he was at least moving quickly, and John followed him. Ford rained weapon fire into the woods behind them and the warrior women answered, but their weapons weren't nearly a match in terms of range. Teyla had the gate dialed up and Ford had their backs; they hit the ramp fast, fast, and then it was over.
"Scratch 'em off the list," John called up to Elizabeth as he stepped into the control room. "They objected to our body hair."
"Oh, well, that's insurmountable," Elizabeth said dryly. "Anyone injured? No? Debriefing in an hour, then. In the meantime, I suggest you hit the showers. I don't want you tracking that dirt all over our nice, clean floors."
Rodney looked like a balding, demented clown. His hair was covered in fine red powder and stuck up in all directions. John was sure his was worse, but when he ran his hand through it, he got leaves and dust, and no red dirt. "This is the reason we can't have nice things," he said, swiping a hand over Rodney's hair. "Let's go before you get stuck like that."
Mostly, by 'before you get stuck like that', John had meant, 'before we jump each other in the middle of a crowded room, which is fun in fantasy but I don't think we should do that kind of thing in front of the kids; Ford would never recover'. He waited until they'd reached Rodney's quarters, waited until Rodney was naked and eyeing him, followed him into the shower stall, set the spray, and pushed Rodney back against the wall.
"I don't think the point was to grind the dirt in," Rodney said, but he was moving too, letting the water do most of the work with the dirt, bright red mud sliding out of his hair and down his shoulders like paint. It tasted strange, chalk and mint, but that didn't matter. They kissed for what felt like an eternity but couldn't have been; they made it to the debriefing with seconds to spare, and hands stained with red.
~~~~~
"What do we do when this stops being exciting?" John asked after finding Rodney stretched out, asleep across his narrow bed. It had been a week since they went off world, but they'd slept together every night. At first, John had thought that maybe it was just the lack of adrenaline rush, being stuck in Atlantis without any big problems cropping up in at least five days, but there had been napping. That kind of threw the curve.
"Nothing," Rodney mumbled into John's pillow, and John poked him in the ass. Rodney turned his head and glared. "When this stops being exciting, we will clearly be dead," he said slowly and precisely. "Duh."
"Right," John said. "Sorry to wake you. See you in the morning."
"Well, since I'm already awake," Rodney said, and he pulled John down into the bed.
~~~~~
"I think I've had enough excitement and I'm done now, bye," Rodney said when John regained consciousness in the med bay, after the nudity kooks of P9X-583 brained him for staring at their self-appointed fertility goddess a little too long.
"Unfair," John mumbled as he struggled to sit up and shake off the dazed feeling. It had been a while since he'd gotten hurt, and what did him in was a guy with a stick that he vaguely remembered as being about as thick as a toothpick? Unfair. Also, "She had the biggest breasts I've ever seen in my life."
Rodney stared at him, then pushed him back down against the pillows. "I know. The thing that really got me were the extra nipples, though. Like, what purpose did they serve? Is she so fertile she has litters? Also, did you not hear me when I said I was done now?"
"I heard you." John closed his eyes again, even though now that Rodney had mentioned the goddess' extra nipples, they were all he could see. "I just don't believe you. You really don't lie that well, Rodney."
"I keep trying to learn, but it's difficult to lie to people then ask how well it went over. Kind of gives the game away. But I mean it this time, because when I signed up for a little extra risk, I did not sign up for, for, for this."
John didn't have to open his eyes to see Rodney's hands, gesturing to the med bay, the machines, John himself, pale and hairy against the white hospital top and the even whiter sheets. "And I didn't sign up to watch you take a stunner to the face or recover from a knife wound or find yourself tied up in the dark little dens of crazy spear people, yet I did it anyway. Sometimes you get more than you asked for. Deal."
"Hmph." Rodney dropped into the chair beside the bed and John turned his hand when he felt the brush of fingers against his hand, holding on. "You know," he said after a while, drawing John up out of the hazy half-sleep he'd fallen in to. "All that stuff happened before we started. Everything."
John smiled and tightened his grip on Rodney's hand. "I know," he said. "Was it just me or was the fertility goddess' dick really, really huge?"
"Well, you were on the ground at that point, so I'm sure perspective had something to do with it." Rodney's free hand, big and warm and smooth, brushed over John's forehead. "Okay, go to sleep," he said. "You'll feel a lot better when you wake up again."
"And you won't be done, right?" John said, cracking his eyes open and turning his head just a little. Rodney was looking at him, gaze dark but nowhere near unreadable.
"No," Rodney said. "I won't be done."
~~~~~
So far as John was concerned, the riskiest aspect of it all was not angry fertility goddesses, crazy spear people, or the threat of discovery. It was getting to Rodney's bed without tripping over discarded shoes, bits of metal, shirts, sheets, pillows, books, external hard drives, bundled socks, and, John was certain, thumb tacks.
"Oww oww oww," he said, hopping on one foot and holding the other. "What the hell, Rodney, was that a landmine?"
"Probably not," Rodney said, and the light over the bed switched on. "What are you doing out of the infirmary? Does Carson know you're here?"
John just looked at him.
"Oh, whatever, you know what I meant." Rodney threw back his blanket and sat up, scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Do I have to call Teyla and make her drag you back before Carson discovers you've escaped and sends out the posse?"
"I don't know why you always threaten me with Teyla," John said. "She likes me. And sometimes she doesn't kick my ass at the sticks!"
"But mostly she does," Rodney said. "Answer?"
"I'm out on my own recognizance, copper, so call off the heat." John hobbled a step closer to the bed. "You liked that, huh?"
"You were very nearly the manifestation of James Dean," Rodney said dryly. "Fine. Do you need to go back for an x-ray of your foot?"
"I need you to shut up." John crawled onto the bed, sliding around behind Rodney, laying his head down on Rodney's pillow and sighing. Five seconds on Rodney's bed, and he felt better than he had after almost twenty-four hours in the med bay.
He yawned, then poked Rodney in the hip, hard. "Also, you could sleep," he said, and Rodney laid down flat on his back, arms at his sides. John sighed again and threw a leg over Rodney's, an arm over his chest. He'd never been a cuddler but the stiff, still way Rodney slept made him feel contrary. "Sleep," he said, pushing and rearranging until he could imagine that Rodney was in a comfortable position. "Sleeeeeeeep."
"Yeah, okay," Rodney said, and just like that it was lights out, both literally and metaphorically. John froze, surprised, and then grinned in the darkness. If only it was always that easy.
~~~~~
The next day, he found McKay at the tip of the fifth pier, sitting on the floor with a pile of parts around him and another pile in his lap.
"Ancient shrink ray?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall.
"Toaster," McKay said, holding up a part that looked like a miniature lightning rod.
"Wow, it must be a slow day if you've got time to mess around with Ancient toasters."
McKay's chin dropped to his chest. "Earth toaster," he said. "Although in this galaxy that might very well mean that it's meant to toast Earth, so allow me to clarify--this is a toaster, from Earth."
"Well, sorry, I just didn't know toasters that looked like they were made from the spare parts of death rays were really all that common back on Earth," John said. He crouched, sifting through parts. "What's...this?"
McKay smacked his hand. "Sit down, and hands off the small pieces," he snapped, and John grinned.
"But the big pieces are fair game, right?" John said, waggling his eyebrows. "Oh, come on, you gave me that one."
"Just because I give you something, doesn't mean you have to take it."
"Actually, I think it does," John said. He sat down and shrugged. "Surprised me too, Rodney. But hey, sometimes you get more than you signed up for, right?"
"And sometimes you get toasters." Rodney poked at the part in his lap one more time, then set it aside and took a deep breath. "I," he said, "have reached a decision--"
"Okay, but you're not done." John smiled at him. "Did you think I'd forgotten that conversation already? C'mon, it was just a head wound."
"Yes yes, I'd only have needed to worry if they'd damaged your hair, I know this. And no, I'm not done. I've decided on something better than done--"
John raised an eyebrow. "And I'm eager to hear all about it."
"Which you would, if you'd stop interrupting. I have decided," Rodney said grandly, "that we are not going to die here."
John blinked. "Good idea," he said. "Why didn't I think of that?"
Rodney glared. "Interruptions. Now, listen. The rest of our time in this galaxy may not be fun and adventure and field trips to Wraith home worlds with big scary bombs--but I put my foot down on dying. I refuse to die here and, if you're going to continue sleeping with me and causing me stress and excitement, you will also refuse to die."
"Okay," John said easily. "What, did you think I was going to disagree with you?"
Rodney sniffed. "You might've. You're contrary. Also, you can be an asshole."
"Sometimes you're just so sweet, Rodney," John said, and then he pounced, scattering toaster parts far and wide.
~~~~~
So of course it was the very next mission that ended with Rodney being dragged back through the gate, unconscious, with a fever that had spiked out of control. "He's not hurt," John said. "He's not hurt, he only ate MREs, he drank bottled water, he barely touched anything. He was fine until twenty minutes ago!"
Carson's team had Rodney on a gurney already, to haul him off to quarantine. "Whatever he's got, I've got," John said quickly, jogging alongside the gurney. "So you can't make me--"
"I will not crawl over you to treat my patient, Major," Carson said. "Wait in Quarantine B with Ford and Teyla." He looked up and for just a second, his gaze softened. "Wait," he said. "I'll bring you word as soon as I have him comfortable."
Teyla touched his shoulder and John said, "Yeah. Yeah, okay," and watched the gurney disappear behind a curtain, allowed himself to be led into Q-B. "You guys all right?" he asked.
Teyla nodded. "I feel no different,' she said.
Ford was shedding holsters and sheaths. "I feel fine," he said. "And it's not like we even ran across any people on that planet. Could the MREs have had citrus in them? Could, I don't know, did he touch anything?"
John had already started thinking about that. "DHD, equipment, equipment, that rock with the carvings, equipment--Elizabeth?"
"I'm on my way down to you now," Elizabeth said over the comm.
"Send a team back to L9X-334 first," John said. "Tell them to bring back the fist-sized rock with the carvings on it--they'll know it when they see it, dead ahead of the gate, practically the only thing within a mile radius. And tell them not to have direct contact with it. It's the only thing any of us touched."
"It was just a rock," Ford said, and John smiled wryly.
"Yeah," he said. "But McKay's been having some bad luck with rocks, lately."
~~~~~
Carson put the rock in one of the mice cages, and two died within a half hour. "Brains baked in their little skulls," Carson said. "The rest will recover--near as I can tell, they'd had no direct contact with it, and perhaps that made the difference."
Rodney was pale, breathing quietly, which was almost more scary than his fevered gasping had been. He opened his eyes and blinked up at John. "Cured," he said, and it wasn't so much a word as it was shaped air.
John put a hand on his arm. "Yeah, no worries. Carson got you all fixed up. You'll be back to eating pudding and terrorizing the nurses in no time."
"Not...that," Rodney said. "Cured. No...no more thrills."
John laughed a little and said "Please," before he leaned down to kiss Rodney's temple, ignoring the startled sound Carson made, the grins on Teyla and Ford's faces. The fever was down, way down, or Carson would never have let them in the room, but Rodney's skin was still so hot. John closed his eyes and said, "Stop it," against his temple. "C'mon, just stop it."
Rodney's lashes fluttered, and John moved back into his line of sight. "Okay," he mumbled, and his eyes closed.
"Hey, I didn't mean stop everything," John said as he wrapped a hand around Rodney's wrist, touched his neck. The machines were all beeping in slow, reassuring rhythms, but that didn't mean much of anything if Rodney--
"He'll be all right," Carson said as he rested a hand on John's shoulder. "He'll be fine, Major. Aye, there's misery ahead for one and all as he recovers, but it'll be just a day or two. The fever responded to treatment quite nicely."
John sat back and looked at the monitors. How sad was it that they had spent enough time in the med bay together to make John an expert on Rodney's vital signs? But everything looked good, when he paid attention. Everything looked fine. Everything was going to be fine.
"Okay," he said, and rose. He brushed his hand over Rodney's hair, couldn't help it, then turned his biggest smile on the people crowded around the bed. "Okay," he said again, and walked out.
~~~~~
John went out to the fifth pier to think. Another narrowly avoided disaster, although not nearly the narrowest. It had just felt like it there, for a while.
Did it make him want to stop? He'd never liked to get too attached--in the end, everyone ended up as a puddle, so to speak--and maybe Rodney had a higher chance of ending up dead than John had thought. Maybe he was too smart, too strangely brave, too bold and too vulnerable to make it out of Pegasus alive. Maybe they'd be better off, less distracted, safer, if they weren't trying to, what? Prolong the thrills? Get their rocks off? Celebrate being alive?
"Bullshit," he said. That was all bullshit and if he hadn't let Rodney get away with it, he couldn't expect to get away with it himself. It was a risk, yeah, but John liked risk a lot--and loved Rodney.
~~~~~
"We're still not done," he said when Rodney woke up again. "We're just not, so get that thought right out of your head."
McKay yawned in his face. "Easy enough, considering I already did, two weeks ago. You do remember two weeks ago, don't you? Or did that hit to the head affect your memory after all?"
"I'm just saying, we're not done." John scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm just stopping the next round of angst and drama before it starts, Rodney. We clearly need to save our energy for mystery fevers and sex."
"I'd much rather save it all for sex," Rodney said wistfully. "Hey, do you think Carson will leave us alone long enough for--"
"Are you kidding? You probably still taste charred, forget about it."
"I can't now." Rodney closed his eyes again. "Charred. Lovely image, Major. Where did you learn poetry, in the steakhouse?"
"Hey, at least I try," John said, and then he dropped into the visitor's chair and rested his hand over Rodney's on the crisp cotton sheet. "You, uh. You really can't die, Rodney. I like Zelenka and all, but he's kind of skinny."
"Yes, well, sometimes Bates thinks I bought my degrees over the internet," Rodney said. "But you're right. You and Radek would bruise each other with your hip bones." He opened one eye and didn't quite smile. "Better for all concerned that we keep inflicting ourselves on each other, I think."
John nodded solemnly. "That's a sacrifice I'm willing to make. For the good of the community, you know."
Rodney snorted and turned his hand under John's. "A thankless job," he said, and twined their fingers together.
"Yeah," John said, and grinned. "Thank God it's mine."
~~~~~
Author:
giddygeekRating: PG-13
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay wallow.
Spoilers: Season one, particularly The Storm/The Eye
Notes: 45k--Once again, I fail at flashfic length. This story was for the Enclosed Spaces challenge but pretty much immediately went beyond it. Thankfully,
merryish, kaneko astolat all eventually said 'dude, shut up, you're done.' I only wrote 15k after that! And finished just in time for challenge amnesty, yay.~~~~~
"Rodney, let me ask you a question."
Rodney didn't look up from his attempts to free his hands. "Yes? What? 'Would you like me to help you get free?' perhaps, or 'how about I cut those ropes for you and we run, run, run before the crazy people with spears come back?'"
John shook his head, repressing a grin. "The crazy spear people are currently being de-speared by Teyla and Ford," he said, watching as Rodney's hands twisted, flexed against the rope binding them. "Did you know that their weird science loonies have laced the blow darts with something they say is guaranteed to knock out anyone, even the Wraith?"
"Just be glad the blow darts weren't laced with something that sent me into anaphylactic shock, Major. Your rescue--if that is what this is, I think you can understand that I have some concerns--would have been far less successful if you'd found me here on the floor, dead as a doornail." He twisted his wrists one more time, then hissed and held his hands out, glaring. "Now that I've answered your question, would you mind?"
John leaned back against the rough wall of the cell. "That wasn't my question," he drawled. "I just wanted to check and make sure you knew what it was that had taken you down long enough for the crazy spear people to get you here, all nice and cozy and wrapped up like a Christmas present for the science loonies. Because if you did, I thought, well, maybe next time he'll be a little more cautious."
"They said they had a ZPM, Major, and apparently I'm helpless before the siren call of saving the universe from the Wraith." Rodney rolled his eyes. "Terribly sorry; perhaps next time I'll wait for you and Teyla and Ford to come back from your game of, what was that, Charades? before I walk off with a gorgeous young science loony who, quite without my knowing it, has hidden a blow dart in her blouse. Do you want me to lose circulation to my hands, or have I just not made it clear enough that I'd like to be cut free?"
A quick glance showed that the ropes were nowhere near tight enough to do any damage. "The science loonies wanted you whole," John said. "I'm not worried about it. But hey, speaking of. Do you deliberately try to get the science loonies of other planets to abduct you, or is it really just a coincidence that on four out of seven almost civilized planets, I have had to crawl into some dark, dank hole and get you out?"
Rodney glared a little more ferociously. "If I answer this question, do I get to go home?"
"You get to go home either way, it's just that you can either go home on the end of that rope, or not." John shrugged. "I'd recommend not. Our people, you know, kinda gossipy."
"Not 'kind of'. It's like a nest of vipers in that city."
John raised his eyebrows. "I don't know about that, Rodney. More like little old neighbor ladies, I'd say."
"Yes, exactly, vipers. My hands?"
"My question?"
Rodney dropped his chin to his chest and sighed heavily, the weight of John's stupidity clearly becoming too much for him to bear. "No, Major. It's not deliberate. They're just powerless against the force of my genius, charisma, and did I mention my genius?"
"I'm sorry, did you just mention your charisma?"
Rodney held his hands up again without lifting his head. John grinned and then knelt beside him. The floor was warm, and kind of squishy for something made of rock. Not pleasant. He made a face, then poked at the ropes. They were spaghetti thin and endlessly looped and knotted around Rodney's wide, pale wrists, halfway up his forearms. The ropes looped back under to Rodney's knees, where they were knotted in a similar pattern, and then down to a bolt set in the floor. "Crazy spear Boy Scouts," John said in admiration, then slid his knife gently through the first loop.
They were much stronger than they looked, and although they weren't tied too tightly, there wasn't much room between them and Rodney's wrists. "Relax your hands," he murmured, and Rodney's fists unclenched a little. John looked up at him. "Relax 'em more."
Rodney bared his teeth but laid his hands out flat. They were trembling, just a little. "Now Rodney, you're not scared I'm gonna cut you, right?" John asked, carefully going back to work with the knife. There was more room to maneuver now that Rodney's wrists weren't tensed. He got through one loop and tugged experimentally, but it wasn't enough. He prodded at the ropes with his free hand, chose a second site, and began to cut again. "Seriously, not gonna cut you," he said. "Unless you keep shaking, in which case hey, I can't be blamed."
"I'm not scared," Rodney said fiercely, and John looked up.
"Rodney?"
"I'm not," Rodney insisted, and met John's gaze. "My blood sugar is low, that's all."
John raised an eyebrow. "You just ate two hours ago."
"Yes, and then I was shot with a dart, and maybe I didn't go into shock but God only knows how it did affect me. Then you stood around playing twenty questions, and now I'm having a hypoglycemic reaction, and--"
"And shut up," John said. He sat back on his heels, frowning, then put the knife down and started poking in his pockets. Rodney's hypoglycemia wasn't just a handy excuse for all kinds of bad behavior, John had worked with him long enough to know that. But his hand had slid across the long, thin line of the scar the Genii knife had left on Rodney's forearm and he thought he got it.
John found a Powerbar and broke off a chunk, held it out. Rodney looked at his hand, incredulous, then met his gaze and shook his head. "I am not eating from your hand, Major."
John grinned and waved the bit of Powerbar enticingly. "Eat it, stop shaking, and we can get out of here."
Rodney frowned at him, and bit down on the Powerbar. John went back to work with the knife, and found it easier with Rodney distracted--no more shakes (though the Powerbar couldn't possibly have brought up his blood sugar so fast) and no more arguing. His hands were free in just minutes, and John handed him the rest of the bar and went to work on the ropes that bound his knees.
"You know, this visit wasn't all bad," Rodney said after a moment, through a mouthful of Powerbar. "They make a type of cake here that we should consider highly valuable in tra--"
"You still think we should trade with the crazy spear people and the loony scientists?"
"Did you meet any of the amazing cook people? No? Then you couldn't possibly understand. They have this cream-filled pastry that, mmm, yes. A brisk slap on the wrist for my abduction, an agreement that provides us with a lot of pastry, and possibly some of the rope, the blow dart toxin, and some of those five-legged chicken things--we could be very good friends with these people."
John shook his head, then finished cutting through the rope around McKay's knees. "And if they didn't have pastry?"
"Oh, a brisk slap on the wrist followed by some beheadings, I think. Can I get up yet?"
"You're an interesting man, Rodney," John said dryly, sheathing his knife before climbing to his feet. "C'mon, you're free, you can get up." He held out a hand and Rodney scrambled up and stumbled. His grip on John's hand was painfully tight for a moment before he dropped it and stamped away, cursing.
"Whole damn galaxy is full of pins and needles," he said when he caught sight of John's raised eyebrows. "Pins and needles, and, and knives, and big scary killer guys with truly disgusting dental hygiene and entire civilizations of crazies. Is it so wrong to hope for at least some good pastry in return?"
He was oddly hunched over, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, rubbing his hands and wrists and glaring. John had to hide his grin behind his hand. "You're right," he said. "The galaxy does owe you pastry. You ready to get out of here?"
"Oh, now we're in a hurry?" Rodney grumbled, shaking his hands. "An argument could be made for the fact that I've been ready to get out of here since before I got in here as I didn't come in under my own--get your hand off me, Sheppard, I'm fully capable of finding the door myself."
John tightened his grip on Rodney's elbow and smiled. "And yet, not so much with the leaving. I'm just making sure we get out of here before you give in to the siren call of sugar and decide to stay for cake." He pulled McKay from the room and tapped his comm. "Ford, Teyla. Things still under control up there?"
A second's pause, and then, "Yes, sir. Is Dr. McKay all right?"
"Dr. McKay would be much better if your CO wasn't an arrogant, sarcastic son of a bitch," Rodney said.
"Dr. McKay would be much better if he didn't keep taking off after the people who promise him their nonexistent ZPMs before checking with the rest of his team," John said, loosening his grip a little since Rodney wasn't struggling to get his arm free anymore. "Which he seems unlikely to manage. Maybe, next mission, we'll arrange a McKay-sitting schedule. Teyla, what do you think?"
"Teyla thinks she'd rather be traded off this team than subject me to that kind of indignity, Major."
"And yet, I think it is worth discussing," Teyla said. "It seems it is either that, or Dr. McKay ceases to join us on our excursions."
Rodney jerked to a halt and looked at John.
"Don't be stupid," John said, pulling him back into motion. "No, not you, Teyla. We'll be back on the surface in a moment. Dial up the gate so we can just get out of here."
"No cake? Maybe I'll sit out the next mission voluntarily."
"Will you stop it? We'll send someone back for the damned cake." John hustled Rodney up the last flight of stairs and into the dimming sunlight of M5L-466. Ford and Teyla were hovering in front of the gate, guns at the ready, wary eyes on the crowd of Dalans, all of whom were flat on their faces in the vast muddy patch that was their common.
Ford beamed at them. "Good to see you, Doctor."
"Yes, I know, thank you." Rodney tugged his arm again and John let go--no reason to keep his grip, now that they were topside. Freed, Rodney turned to face the cowering Dalans. "You are all very annoying," he announced in a loud, carrying voice. "Also, your mathematicians are pathetically stupid. Goodbye."
Ford watched Rodney stomp through the gate. "Well," he said, "he is kinda making progress. This time he didn't rant long enough for anyone to take a potshot at him."
"It's not learning, it's greed," John said dryly. "He's hoping to preserve his chance to get good cake."
~~~~~
John leaned back in his chair as Rodney tried to explain himself to Elizabeth. It wasn't going very well for him, which made it a lot of fun to watch.
"I had my reasons," Rodney said. "You've heard the words zero point module before?"
Elizabeth nodded. "Once or twice," she murmured. "I believe I even understand the importance of a ZPM to our mission. However, I believe I also understand your importance to this mission, Rodney, and therefore I have to ask you to stop giving chase every time you hear a rumor--"
Rodney crossed his arms over his chest, scowling. "Glad as I am to hear someone acknowledge my worth, I have to say that I'll only stop when things like, oh, power and shields and working technology are no longer problems for us! Until then--"
John shook his head. "No, you won't," he said. "Don't look at me like that, I can't help it if you've become an adrenaline junkie."
Ford snickered and Teyla smiled, and Elizabeth looked down at the table top to hide her expression. Rodney, though, was still looking at John, expression all at once shock and horror and something that might've been glee. "My God," he said. "That's exactly what you've done!"
John slung an arm over the back of his chair and gave Rodney his most innocent and bemused look. "Me?" he said. "Uh-uh. I had nothing to do with it."
Rodney snorted. "Elizabeth, what are your favorite things ever? Top three. Fast."
"Peaceful days. Sunsets over the West Pier," Elizabeth said, quickly, almost like she'd been waiting for someone to ask. She looked up from her intensive study of the table, and she was smiling. "Breakfast in bed."
"Ford?"
"Chocolate, girls with southern accents, and dogs."
"In that order?" John asked, interested, and Ford grinned at him.
"Sometimes reversed, sir."
Rodney ignored them. "Teyla?"
Teyla blinked at him. "I...find there are far too many things that I enjoy, Dr. McKay. I do not know that I could select three favorites."
"Try."
"Well." Teyla frowned. "There were days in the woods, when we were hunting, and the sunlight was pale and beautiful through the leaves. I did love those days. And playing with the children brings me joy." Her eyes went a little dreamy, her frown fading. "And I have always enjoyed defeating my challengers in combat."
Ford raised his hand. "Oh, me too, can I go in with Teyla on the combat thing?"
"Me three." John smiled at Rodney. "I also like popcorn and getting-to-know-you-games. This was a good one. Can we go back to yelling at you about the ZPM thing now?"
"Major, please. You like things that go really fast, things that go really high, and defeating your challengers in combat," Rodney said. "If I've developed a, a thrill seeking disorder, it's all due to spending far too much time locked in a jumper with you and your fly-boy mentality, and therefore I can't be blamed for my actions."
"Rodney," Elizabeth said, a clear warning in her voice.
"Oh, fine. Fine. I promise to at least warn someone before I and my rushing adrenaline go off to save all of our lives. There. Is everyone happy now? Can I go back to my lab, or do I need to wait for the crossing guard to walk me down?"
Elizabeth stared at him for a long moment before smiling. "Meeting adjourned. You may go back to your lab, Rodney. Please be careful to look both ways before entering the hall."
Rodney rolled his eyes then pushed back from the table and stalked out of the conference room. Everyone else followed more slowly, and John lingered until Ford's voice, raised for Teyla's benefit in a quavery falsetto version of a southern accent, had faded.
"We'll be keeping an eye on him," he reassured Elizabeth. "I promise."
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "You had better, Major. He holds you responsible, and I can't say that I think he's entirely wrong."
John shrugged. "Me neither," he said, grinning back at Elizabeth when she smiled at him, and then he turned to follow his team down the hall.
~~~~~
Field work wasn't all abductions, murderous villains, and Wraith. There had been times where they went on two or three missions in a row, even, without anyone trying to kill them.
But when they seemed poised to hit a record five flawlessly executed, fruitful and scientifically productive missions after the last abduction, Rodney stalked into their suite of rooms in the palatial estates of N9T-644's ruling family and began wrestling with his vest, cursing under his breath.
"Is something wrong?" Teyla asked. She was already barefoot and stripped of her own vest, and had stopped padding across the common area to her room to raise her eyebrows at Rodney.
"McKay's got a bug up his--nose--cause the Mirkatens aren't providing him with enough gunfire as part of the entertainment," John drawled as he unfastened his own vest. It had been an incredibly long, slow day, full of speeches and food and sitting around in the hot sun. Rodney had been getting progressively more irritated, and irritating. John was ready to toss him off the nearest balcony with or without a shielding device.
"You people are the ones who turned me into this," Rodney bitched, fighting a strap and losing.
John carefully laid his own vest on their couch-thing, then turned to Rodney and pushed his hands down. "You've worn this thing how often, and you can still get it wrong?" He frowned at the twisted straps, poked experimentally. "No, stop messing with it, you're just making it worse--don't ask me how, I couldn't tell you how you possibly--did you fasten it backwards on purpose?"
Rodney sighed and tilted his head down to watch as John unbuckled straps, peeled back velcro. "I slept in it," he said, and even Ford stopped snickering.
"You did...what?"
"I slept in it!" Rodney met his gaze defiantly. "Come on, Major, haven't you even once thought that these missions have been too quiet?"
"No," John said. "Mostly, I've been enjoying the pastoral views and good food and working on my tan. You slept in your vest?"
"I thought I might want to go for a walk! Quiet little planet, nice people, what's the harm in a midnight stroll? It just seemed that wearing the vest would be the wise--well." He paused, fidgeting, then coughed. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."
"Sometimes your good ideas scare me." John unsnapped the last buckle, then gripped the shoulder straps and shook Rodney lightly. "Leave this suite tonight, vest or no vest, ZPM or no ZPM, boredom or mating call of the wild Ferris wheel, I don't care what, and I will...kill...you. Got it?"
Rodney brushed his hands away and stepped back. "I've got it," he said. "No leaving the suite. I can't leave the suite. If I leave the suite, control freaks will get me. Fine. Good night."
"Good night." John watched silently as Rodney stomped into his room and attempted to slam the sliding door shut, then turned to Ford and Teyla. "Night, guys," he said a little too loudly while gesturing from himself to the couch-thing and back again. "See you in the morning."
Ford gave him a thumbs-up and Teyla eyed him for a long moment. He shrugged--what else could he do but stay on the couch? Rodney had slept in his vest, which wasn't even bulletproof--and eventually Teyla nodded and slipped away into her room.
"Night, sir," Ford said. "Night, Dr. McKay."
"Shut up and go to sleep!"
"That's McKay for sweet dreams, Lieutenant Ford," John said as Ford grinned and headed for his own bed, then he turned off the lights and settled down onto the cushions of the couch-thing, which was huge and plush and fuzzy in all the best ways. He made himself comfortable, and closed his eyes to wait for Rodney's escape.
~~~~~
Rodney had gotten pretty good at sneaking. When John had first started training him for missions, how well he could handle a gun had come as a surprise, but not his piss-poor stealth mode. The man lived for attention. John had met guys like that before, guys who couldn't help but want to make an entrance, and had seen a lot of those guys end up as messy little puddles on the ground.
Rodney was smarter than most of the them but as John watched him charge when he should have creeped and creep when he should have crawled, he thought, puddle, and decided not to get too attached.
Gradually, though, Rodney improved. He still shot his mouth off at the least appropriate times, but he'd at least learned how not to stomp where angels would fear to tread. When his bedroom door opened sometime before dawn, it was the nearly silent slide of wooden panels that alerted John, not his footsteps. The door was more than enough notice though; Rodney didn't quite make it out of his room before John had him pinned.
"Can't...breathe," he gasped. "Lungs flattened. Oww."
John eased back a couple inches but kept his arm across Rodney's throat, applying just a little pressure. His other arm was above their heads, holding the hand that had been on the door handle pinned against the wall. He felt Rodney swallow hard, felt the beat of his pulse in his wrist, and smiled. "Good morning, Rodney," he said. "It's a little early to be heading down for the complimentary breakfast buffet, isn't it?"
"It's never too early for the buffet, Major." Rodney flailed and managed to get his free hand on John's chest. He shoved. He was strong, but John was heavier than he looked, and tougher, and he wasn't about to be moved. "Oh, for God's sake," Rodney said. "You've caught me, gold star for you. Could you find your way to backing off now?"
"No," John said, leaning in a little closer. "What was it you said, Rodney? Can't leave the room, control freaks will get me?"
"Uh," Rodney said, weakly, and that was when John closed the last of the distance between them and kissed him--
And that was when the bomb came in through the window and blew the couch thing to smithereens.
~~~~~
"Not my fault," Rodney panted as they ran through the forest surrounding the compound. "Not my fault, not my fault, I didn't offend anyone or tell anyone how smart I was or offer to show them how their science is wrong wrong wrong or kiss anyone or--"
"You'd run a much faster mile if you'd shut up," John said, because he could tell, he could just tell that Ford and Teyla's ears had perked right up for that, like little gossip radars.
And Teyla's voice was shocked when she gasped and said, "Dr. McKay!" but it wasn't the right kind of shocked, not the right kind of shocked at all. John whirled around just as Rodney looked down at his hand, which was covered in blood, then looked up at John.
"So not my fault," he said, and dropped gracelessly to the ground.
~~~~~
Rodney wore two sets of bandages to the post-mission briefing. One was huge and surrounded with medical tape, covering a little scratch over his eye. The other was small and business-like, and covered the six stitches he'd had to get on his neck.
"After a second bomb came through the window, we decided to bravely run away," John told Elizabeth.
"That's when the bastards got me! With a rock! Fired from a slingshot!" Rodney touched the puffy bandage over his eye--where he'd gotten scratched by a tree branch--and scowled. "I am owed so much hazard pay, Elizabeth. When we go home, I'll be able to buy Atlantis."
"He's mostly offended that it wasn't a bullet or bomb shrapnel."
"Slingshots." Rodney snorted. "Such a backward weapon, it's almost an insult."
Elizabeth sighed. "A rock could have killed you as easily as a bullet, Rodney."
"Yes, but with so much less style!"
"I don't know," Ford said. "It's not like people get killed by slingshots every day, you know? It's rare. That almost makes it cool, right?"
"Oh. Right." Rodney sat back in his chair. "I hadn't thought of that. Good point, Ford."
"Nevertheless, I think that death by slingshot is something we should be avoiding," Elizabeth said. "Now. Do any of you know what provoked this attack? It sounds like a fairly routine visit, up until the bombs."
Teyla frowned. "We had thought that the visit was going well. They seemed friendly, and our team was very well-behaved. In this instance, I do not believe that either Major Sheppard or Dr. McKay provoked the people at all."
"Hey," John said. "Me?"
Ford nodded. "It is your fault like half the time, sir," he said, apologetically.
"You cause the most trouble. I just get taken hostage a lot," Rodney said, and John leaned back, thinking about it.
"Huh," he said. "Yeah, I guess that's about right. I still don't feel the need to wear my vest to bed."
Ford grinned, Teyla looked down at the table to hide her almost smile, and Rodney scowled ferociously. Elizabeth just looked at them all, one eyebrow raised, and John smiled blandly back at her. "Team joke," he said. "You had to be there. Anyway, can't lay the blame on ourselves for this one, must've just confused a 'howdy, neighbors' festival for an 'eat well, for at roughly 3 in the morning you will die, intruders' festival."
"In the future, try to be more aware of whether or not you're being fattened up," Elizabeth said. "For now, you're dismissed. Go get some rest. And Rodney? A long and brilliant life is infinitely preferable to a stylish death. Please bear that in mind."
"It's hardly something I'm going to forget," Rodney said wryly, touching the bandage on his neck for the first time since Carson had put it on him. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an urgent--thing--to attend to. Good night."
When he was gone, Elizabeth said, "He didn't call nearly as much attention to the wound as I'd have expected he would. John?"
"I'm on it," John said, and he headed for the labs.
~~~~~
"It's not like some guilt-driven death wish, right?" John asked.
Rodney very carefully turned his head to glare, then went back to clattering away on his laptop. "I have led a fairly blameless life. Oh sure, there was my grunge period but it was the nineties, so I think even that can be forgiven."
John nodded. "Plus, you're Canadian. Your blood is probably part flannel anyway."
"Oh, yes, yes, let's all make Canadian jokes now, eh? Bacon, manners, flannel, ha-ha-ha. Now that you've proven that you're very funny, please go away."
"Can't. Gotta make sure you're not acting out to get attention, testing us to make sure we care, or indulging a death wish. Elizabeth is...concerned."
Rodney didn't look at him. "I'm acting out for attention all the time, Major. You've saved my life often enough that I don't waste a lot of my time wondering if you care, and I've got some issues about all--that--but it's mostly limited to not liking big knives too near my person, and really really hating the Genii."
John nodded. "Yeah, I'm not ready to invite them over for dinner either," he said. "So, really, you just like taking risks now, huh?"
Rodney shrugged and clicked away at his keyboard. "That still seems to be the whole story. Are you going away now, or should I have Teyla come and forcibly evict you?"
"Well." John put a hand on Rodney's forearm, tugging until Rodney had to look away again. "I was thinking," he said, "that if you've got a thing for thrills, I might be able to...help you out." He slid his hand down to Rodney's wrist and feeling the hair and warm skin beneath his palm was more exciting than expected. John couldn't exactly count the number of times he'd felt the crackle of energy that came from contact between them, but apparently, touching with intent made it more. He tightened his grip. "No risk of death, minimal risk of endangerment, and Elizabeth stops looking like she's ready to split up the team any moment."
Rodney's gaze dropped to the hand gripping his wrist and stared there for a long moment before he looked up, shaking his head. "Oh no," he said. "Oh, I think not. What am I, stupid? I've watched television. I know what happens to Kirk's babes, and it's nothing I want happening to me. Get out, Major. Go."
John smiled at him. "I would, if I thought that you really wanted me to go," he said. "But you don't, do you?"
"Yes," Rodney said.
John touched his cheek, touched his temple just beneath where the bandage and tape started and said, "Liar."
"Yeah, okay, I don't do that well," Rodney said before he came up out of his seat in a rush and plastered himself against John, kissing him with a degree of enthusiasm that John matched instantly, a hand on Rodney's wrist and a hand in his hair, tilting Rodney's head to just the right angle, mindful of the wound on his neck but not careful. Not tempered. Hungry.
Oh, yeah. Touching with intent was the best thing ever.
~~~~~
"The Milky Way is not this weird," Rodney said as he and John ran for the gate. "If the price of a populated galaxy is that most of the population is insane, well, I'm not sure it's worth it."
John peered out from the trees, trying to find a sign of danger. Nothing, which meant there were thirteen traps and an army hiding in the long grass of the meadow that stretched between them and safety. Excellent. "Look at it this way, Rodney," he said. "No weirdos, no weird technology. No weird technology, no Nobel prize."
"They'll have to invent a new prize to impress me after all this," Rodney said, waving a hand. "They'll have to invent one, name it after me, put a bust of me on the statue, and promise to award it to me in perpetuity." He followed John into the clearing and bolted, just as the trees where they had been started exploding a little.
"Duck," John said, and they slid to the ground in front of a fallen pillar, remnants of a temple built to worship the Ancients. They were both panting. A fine red powder rained down Rodney's head; the petite female warriors of L3Q-993 were quite unlike Amazons but they had weapons that were not unlike guns, which shot not quite bullets that slammed into the rock they'd ducked behind.
"And I want my award presented to me every three months by naked, leggy blondes," Rodney said. "Tall ones. Really tall. No guns."
John rolled his eyes. "The guns are what gets you going, don't think I don't know that. That thing you do with your mouth gives you away every time." He shook his head at Rodney's belated attempts to stop doing the thing with his mouth, and tapped his comm. "Ford? Teyla? What's your position?"
"We're at the gate now, Major," Teyla said calmly.
"You need cover fire? Because I can give you cover fire," Ford said. Sometimes John thought he was almost a little too eager to provide cover fire. Other times, mostly when tiny little warrior women were trying to make a colander out of his head, it seemed okay.
"Yeah," he said. "We're coming out in three--two--" He pushed and Rodney went, stumbling a little before he was crouching almost low enough, thank God he was at least moving quickly, and John followed him. Ford rained weapon fire into the woods behind them and the warrior women answered, but their weapons weren't nearly a match in terms of range. Teyla had the gate dialed up and Ford had their backs; they hit the ramp fast, fast, and then it was over.
"Scratch 'em off the list," John called up to Elizabeth as he stepped into the control room. "They objected to our body hair."
"Oh, well, that's insurmountable," Elizabeth said dryly. "Anyone injured? No? Debriefing in an hour, then. In the meantime, I suggest you hit the showers. I don't want you tracking that dirt all over our nice, clean floors."
Rodney looked like a balding, demented clown. His hair was covered in fine red powder and stuck up in all directions. John was sure his was worse, but when he ran his hand through it, he got leaves and dust, and no red dirt. "This is the reason we can't have nice things," he said, swiping a hand over Rodney's hair. "Let's go before you get stuck like that."
Mostly, by 'before you get stuck like that', John had meant, 'before we jump each other in the middle of a crowded room, which is fun in fantasy but I don't think we should do that kind of thing in front of the kids; Ford would never recover'. He waited until they'd reached Rodney's quarters, waited until Rodney was naked and eyeing him, followed him into the shower stall, set the spray, and pushed Rodney back against the wall.
"I don't think the point was to grind the dirt in," Rodney said, but he was moving too, letting the water do most of the work with the dirt, bright red mud sliding out of his hair and down his shoulders like paint. It tasted strange, chalk and mint, but that didn't matter. They kissed for what felt like an eternity but couldn't have been; they made it to the debriefing with seconds to spare, and hands stained with red.
~~~~~
"What do we do when this stops being exciting?" John asked after finding Rodney stretched out, asleep across his narrow bed. It had been a week since they went off world, but they'd slept together every night. At first, John had thought that maybe it was just the lack of adrenaline rush, being stuck in Atlantis without any big problems cropping up in at least five days, but there had been napping. That kind of threw the curve.
"Nothing," Rodney mumbled into John's pillow, and John poked him in the ass. Rodney turned his head and glared. "When this stops being exciting, we will clearly be dead," he said slowly and precisely. "Duh."
"Right," John said. "Sorry to wake you. See you in the morning."
"Well, since I'm already awake," Rodney said, and he pulled John down into the bed.
~~~~~
"I think I've had enough excitement and I'm done now, bye," Rodney said when John regained consciousness in the med bay, after the nudity kooks of P9X-583 brained him for staring at their self-appointed fertility goddess a little too long.
"Unfair," John mumbled as he struggled to sit up and shake off the dazed feeling. It had been a while since he'd gotten hurt, and what did him in was a guy with a stick that he vaguely remembered as being about as thick as a toothpick? Unfair. Also, "She had the biggest breasts I've ever seen in my life."
Rodney stared at him, then pushed him back down against the pillows. "I know. The thing that really got me were the extra nipples, though. Like, what purpose did they serve? Is she so fertile she has litters? Also, did you not hear me when I said I was done now?"
"I heard you." John closed his eyes again, even though now that Rodney had mentioned the goddess' extra nipples, they were all he could see. "I just don't believe you. You really don't lie that well, Rodney."
"I keep trying to learn, but it's difficult to lie to people then ask how well it went over. Kind of gives the game away. But I mean it this time, because when I signed up for a little extra risk, I did not sign up for, for, for this."
John didn't have to open his eyes to see Rodney's hands, gesturing to the med bay, the machines, John himself, pale and hairy against the white hospital top and the even whiter sheets. "And I didn't sign up to watch you take a stunner to the face or recover from a knife wound or find yourself tied up in the dark little dens of crazy spear people, yet I did it anyway. Sometimes you get more than you asked for. Deal."
"Hmph." Rodney dropped into the chair beside the bed and John turned his hand when he felt the brush of fingers against his hand, holding on. "You know," he said after a while, drawing John up out of the hazy half-sleep he'd fallen in to. "All that stuff happened before we started. Everything."
John smiled and tightened his grip on Rodney's hand. "I know," he said. "Was it just me or was the fertility goddess' dick really, really huge?"
"Well, you were on the ground at that point, so I'm sure perspective had something to do with it." Rodney's free hand, big and warm and smooth, brushed over John's forehead. "Okay, go to sleep," he said. "You'll feel a lot better when you wake up again."
"And you won't be done, right?" John said, cracking his eyes open and turning his head just a little. Rodney was looking at him, gaze dark but nowhere near unreadable.
"No," Rodney said. "I won't be done."
~~~~~
So far as John was concerned, the riskiest aspect of it all was not angry fertility goddesses, crazy spear people, or the threat of discovery. It was getting to Rodney's bed without tripping over discarded shoes, bits of metal, shirts, sheets, pillows, books, external hard drives, bundled socks, and, John was certain, thumb tacks.
"Oww oww oww," he said, hopping on one foot and holding the other. "What the hell, Rodney, was that a landmine?"
"Probably not," Rodney said, and the light over the bed switched on. "What are you doing out of the infirmary? Does Carson know you're here?"
John just looked at him.
"Oh, whatever, you know what I meant." Rodney threw back his blanket and sat up, scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Do I have to call Teyla and make her drag you back before Carson discovers you've escaped and sends out the posse?"
"I don't know why you always threaten me with Teyla," John said. "She likes me. And sometimes she doesn't kick my ass at the sticks!"
"But mostly she does," Rodney said. "Answer?"
"I'm out on my own recognizance, copper, so call off the heat." John hobbled a step closer to the bed. "You liked that, huh?"
"You were very nearly the manifestation of James Dean," Rodney said dryly. "Fine. Do you need to go back for an x-ray of your foot?"
"I need you to shut up." John crawled onto the bed, sliding around behind Rodney, laying his head down on Rodney's pillow and sighing. Five seconds on Rodney's bed, and he felt better than he had after almost twenty-four hours in the med bay.
He yawned, then poked Rodney in the hip, hard. "Also, you could sleep," he said, and Rodney laid down flat on his back, arms at his sides. John sighed again and threw a leg over Rodney's, an arm over his chest. He'd never been a cuddler but the stiff, still way Rodney slept made him feel contrary. "Sleep," he said, pushing and rearranging until he could imagine that Rodney was in a comfortable position. "Sleeeeeeeep."
"Yeah, okay," Rodney said, and just like that it was lights out, both literally and metaphorically. John froze, surprised, and then grinned in the darkness. If only it was always that easy.
~~~~~
The next day, he found McKay at the tip of the fifth pier, sitting on the floor with a pile of parts around him and another pile in his lap.
"Ancient shrink ray?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall.
"Toaster," McKay said, holding up a part that looked like a miniature lightning rod.
"Wow, it must be a slow day if you've got time to mess around with Ancient toasters."
McKay's chin dropped to his chest. "Earth toaster," he said. "Although in this galaxy that might very well mean that it's meant to toast Earth, so allow me to clarify--this is a toaster, from Earth."
"Well, sorry, I just didn't know toasters that looked like they were made from the spare parts of death rays were really all that common back on Earth," John said. He crouched, sifting through parts. "What's...this?"
McKay smacked his hand. "Sit down, and hands off the small pieces," he snapped, and John grinned.
"But the big pieces are fair game, right?" John said, waggling his eyebrows. "Oh, come on, you gave me that one."
"Just because I give you something, doesn't mean you have to take it."
"Actually, I think it does," John said. He sat down and shrugged. "Surprised me too, Rodney. But hey, sometimes you get more than you signed up for, right?"
"And sometimes you get toasters." Rodney poked at the part in his lap one more time, then set it aside and took a deep breath. "I," he said, "have reached a decision--"
"Okay, but you're not done." John smiled at him. "Did you think I'd forgotten that conversation already? C'mon, it was just a head wound."
"Yes yes, I'd only have needed to worry if they'd damaged your hair, I know this. And no, I'm not done. I've decided on something better than done--"
John raised an eyebrow. "And I'm eager to hear all about it."
"Which you would, if you'd stop interrupting. I have decided," Rodney said grandly, "that we are not going to die here."
John blinked. "Good idea," he said. "Why didn't I think of that?"
Rodney glared. "Interruptions. Now, listen. The rest of our time in this galaxy may not be fun and adventure and field trips to Wraith home worlds with big scary bombs--but I put my foot down on dying. I refuse to die here and, if you're going to continue sleeping with me and causing me stress and excitement, you will also refuse to die."
"Okay," John said easily. "What, did you think I was going to disagree with you?"
Rodney sniffed. "You might've. You're contrary. Also, you can be an asshole."
"Sometimes you're just so sweet, Rodney," John said, and then he pounced, scattering toaster parts far and wide.
~~~~~
So of course it was the very next mission that ended with Rodney being dragged back through the gate, unconscious, with a fever that had spiked out of control. "He's not hurt," John said. "He's not hurt, he only ate MREs, he drank bottled water, he barely touched anything. He was fine until twenty minutes ago!"
Carson's team had Rodney on a gurney already, to haul him off to quarantine. "Whatever he's got, I've got," John said quickly, jogging alongside the gurney. "So you can't make me--"
"I will not crawl over you to treat my patient, Major," Carson said. "Wait in Quarantine B with Ford and Teyla." He looked up and for just a second, his gaze softened. "Wait," he said. "I'll bring you word as soon as I have him comfortable."
Teyla touched his shoulder and John said, "Yeah. Yeah, okay," and watched the gurney disappear behind a curtain, allowed himself to be led into Q-B. "You guys all right?" he asked.
Teyla nodded. "I feel no different,' she said.
Ford was shedding holsters and sheaths. "I feel fine," he said. "And it's not like we even ran across any people on that planet. Could the MREs have had citrus in them? Could, I don't know, did he touch anything?"
John had already started thinking about that. "DHD, equipment, equipment, that rock with the carvings, equipment--Elizabeth?"
"I'm on my way down to you now," Elizabeth said over the comm.
"Send a team back to L9X-334 first," John said. "Tell them to bring back the fist-sized rock with the carvings on it--they'll know it when they see it, dead ahead of the gate, practically the only thing within a mile radius. And tell them not to have direct contact with it. It's the only thing any of us touched."
"It was just a rock," Ford said, and John smiled wryly.
"Yeah," he said. "But McKay's been having some bad luck with rocks, lately."
~~~~~
Carson put the rock in one of the mice cages, and two died within a half hour. "Brains baked in their little skulls," Carson said. "The rest will recover--near as I can tell, they'd had no direct contact with it, and perhaps that made the difference."
Rodney was pale, breathing quietly, which was almost more scary than his fevered gasping had been. He opened his eyes and blinked up at John. "Cured," he said, and it wasn't so much a word as it was shaped air.
John put a hand on his arm. "Yeah, no worries. Carson got you all fixed up. You'll be back to eating pudding and terrorizing the nurses in no time."
"Not...that," Rodney said. "Cured. No...no more thrills."
John laughed a little and said "Please," before he leaned down to kiss Rodney's temple, ignoring the startled sound Carson made, the grins on Teyla and Ford's faces. The fever was down, way down, or Carson would never have let them in the room, but Rodney's skin was still so hot. John closed his eyes and said, "Stop it," against his temple. "C'mon, just stop it."
Rodney's lashes fluttered, and John moved back into his line of sight. "Okay," he mumbled, and his eyes closed.
"Hey, I didn't mean stop everything," John said as he wrapped a hand around Rodney's wrist, touched his neck. The machines were all beeping in slow, reassuring rhythms, but that didn't mean much of anything if Rodney--
"He'll be all right," Carson said as he rested a hand on John's shoulder. "He'll be fine, Major. Aye, there's misery ahead for one and all as he recovers, but it'll be just a day or two. The fever responded to treatment quite nicely."
John sat back and looked at the monitors. How sad was it that they had spent enough time in the med bay together to make John an expert on Rodney's vital signs? But everything looked good, when he paid attention. Everything looked fine. Everything was going to be fine.
"Okay," he said, and rose. He brushed his hand over Rodney's hair, couldn't help it, then turned his biggest smile on the people crowded around the bed. "Okay," he said again, and walked out.
~~~~~
John went out to the fifth pier to think. Another narrowly avoided disaster, although not nearly the narrowest. It had just felt like it there, for a while.
Did it make him want to stop? He'd never liked to get too attached--in the end, everyone ended up as a puddle, so to speak--and maybe Rodney had a higher chance of ending up dead than John had thought. Maybe he was too smart, too strangely brave, too bold and too vulnerable to make it out of Pegasus alive. Maybe they'd be better off, less distracted, safer, if they weren't trying to, what? Prolong the thrills? Get their rocks off? Celebrate being alive?
"Bullshit," he said. That was all bullshit and if he hadn't let Rodney get away with it, he couldn't expect to get away with it himself. It was a risk, yeah, but John liked risk a lot--and loved Rodney.
~~~~~
"We're still not done," he said when Rodney woke up again. "We're just not, so get that thought right out of your head."
McKay yawned in his face. "Easy enough, considering I already did, two weeks ago. You do remember two weeks ago, don't you? Or did that hit to the head affect your memory after all?"
"I'm just saying, we're not done." John scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm just stopping the next round of angst and drama before it starts, Rodney. We clearly need to save our energy for mystery fevers and sex."
"I'd much rather save it all for sex," Rodney said wistfully. "Hey, do you think Carson will leave us alone long enough for--"
"Are you kidding? You probably still taste charred, forget about it."
"I can't now." Rodney closed his eyes again. "Charred. Lovely image, Major. Where did you learn poetry, in the steakhouse?"
"Hey, at least I try," John said, and then he dropped into the visitor's chair and rested his hand over Rodney's on the crisp cotton sheet. "You, uh. You really can't die, Rodney. I like Zelenka and all, but he's kind of skinny."
"Yes, well, sometimes Bates thinks I bought my degrees over the internet," Rodney said. "But you're right. You and Radek would bruise each other with your hip bones." He opened one eye and didn't quite smile. "Better for all concerned that we keep inflicting ourselves on each other, I think."
John nodded solemnly. "That's a sacrifice I'm willing to make. For the good of the community, you know."
Rodney snorted and turned his hand under John's. "A thankless job," he said, and twined their fingers together.
"Yeah," John said, and grinned. "Thank God it's mine."
~~~~~