sga_flashfic | FIC: Cheat 1/1, Earthside Challenge (Reply)

Title: Cheat
Author: Ismene
Rating: PG-13 for language
Pairing: McShep

McKay has never thought that one day Carter would say yes.

He still asks, of course, more for form’s sake than anything else, because when he says something a little sexist and superficial her eyes spark and she whirls on him with all that intensity…

Yeah, even thinking she would never say yes, he’s always planned to keep asking.

But now she’s said yes, and he hasn’t the faintest idea what to do about it.

She’s standing here, smirking, laughter in those blue eyes, watching McKay gape, in what he knows is an unattractive and frankly somewhat fish-like manner, but he can’t seem to stop.

She isn’t supposed to say yes.

It’s a game, dammit, and not one he’s meant to win.

“Well?” she demands, still not bothering to hide her amusement. “You owe me dinner, McKay.”

“Rodney,” he says automatically, and oh, that was a phenomenally bad idea, because her grin widens enough to freak him out even more, “After all, you called me that-“

And then he stops because, no, actually, she hasn’t; a bizarre, perfect, hallucination had called him Rodney with her voice, and does this mean he’s officially lost it? Talking about brain-injury-induced visions as though they had been real? Hell, it hadn’t even been that great a rendition of her – the blinding smile had been off just a touch, the something so…so vital about her, the energy that draws him in, had been missing. Apparently his memory isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

“Rodney?” Oh, shit, how long has she been talking? Please not long, please- “Thought I’d lost you for a minute there. We can do this another time, if you’re too…tired.” Her smirk has softened, a little, and there’s that concern he’d needed so badly to see when he was trapped under thousands of feet of ocean. He’s absurdly grateful for it; at least it’s familiar, in a bizarre way.

“No, I’m-“ he can’t think of a word to describe his not-quite-panicked-but-pretty-damn-close state, so it’s probably an excellently good thing that Sheppard chooses that moment to shuffle into the lab.

“Hey, kids.”

“Oh, um, Colonel Sheppard, this is-“

“The infamous Colonel Carter, I presume.” Sheppard’s stance changes, a little, when he stretches out a hand to shake Carter’s, and Rodney feels a surge of sheer nausea at the way his lips twist into a careless smile, the sudden physical presence Sheppard is projecting. He knows that posture – he’s been thrown off more than one planet because of that little hip jerk, the slightest movement of that head so that a person has no choice but to take note of that absurd hair.

Dammit, no, not Sam.

She may not be Rodney’s, but he’ll be damned if she’ll be Sheppard’s.

“Anyway, Colonel,” and it’s weird to watch both their heads turn at that word, “We were just leaving.”

“That’s why I’m here. Had to make sure my head geek didn’t knock himself out the first night back.”

It’s never occurred to him how demeaning that word is; Sheppard has always said things like that, calling Rodney “king geek” or his “pet scientist,” and it’s never mattered before that those words have all these negative connotations, because, well, it’s Sheppard and he’s more than a bit of a dork himself. But Carter’s eyebrow has quirked and Rodney gets defensive before he really notices.

“Yes, well, as important as I am and as crucial as it is that you keep me happy, I think I’m capable of-“

“You don’t sleep, McKay – Rodney.” Huh. The facial contortion Sheppard goes through when Carter says his name is just…interesting. “Colonel Sheppard’s concern is justified, I think. Actually,” and oh, that little self-deprecating smile is the most fabulous thing Rodney has ever seen, “that’s why I agreed to dinner.”

“Oh.” That’s…deflating and reassuring, at the same time. The rules of the game haven’t changed, then, much. That’s good; he wouldn’t want to think Carter a cheat. She doesn’t really want him, and strangely enough, Rodney’s okay with that.

“In fact, Colonel Sheppard, would you like to join us for dinner? There’s this amazing steakhouse I was thrown out of once…” Carter’s voice is polite with just an edge of flirtatiousness that sets Rodney’s teeth on edge.

Damn Sheppard for being perfect, anyway.

Dinner, oddly enough, goes off without much awkwardness at all. Rodney and Sheppard start off playing Carter the way they did Norina, but Samantha Carter has been a pawn before, and has a tendency to sneak behind enemy lines until she emerges a queen.

By the time Rodney’s on his fourth beer (watered-down American crap, he notes rather bitterly), Carter is insisting on the use of her first name. “Sam,” she’s saying chidingly to Sheppard, who doesn’t look in the least repentant.

“So, Sam,” and God, what Pegasus has done to his alcohol tolerance, because he’s already tipsy and rapidly moving into drunk (when had his mug been refilled, anyway?), “There were rumors on the Daedalus that you were engaged. I chose not to believe them, because I give even you credit for more intelligence than it takes to settle down with a husband and pets.”

She snorts, and impossibly it doesn’t take away from her attractiveness. “Not by a long shot. His name is Pete, and yes, we’re planning to…but not for a while yet. I have to save the galaxy before I can deal with the paperwork, not to mention moving.”

Hell, maybe Rodney really is over this woman, because he doesn’t feel particularly disappointed knowing she’s off the market. Sheppard obviously doesn’t feel his evening has been wasted, either, because he slouches further back into his chair (violating at least three laws of physics, Rodney is certain) and seems genuinely interested. “So, does he know why you’re waiting?”

“He has limited clearance, yes. We took advantage of his expertise in a situation recently.” Sam takes a long drink of her beer – Rodney thinks it may be only her second, and maybe she ordered the refill he just received, unsolicited, from the rebellious-looking teenage waitress. “He thinks I’m Superwoman, or something.”

“Sucks, doesn’t it?” Sheppard asks knowingly, and Rodney blinks. When the hell has Sheppard ever been…oh.

“You don’t take that shit seriously, do you? All the stuff Elizabeth spouts about depending on you, the way the new staff treat you?”

Sheppard turns to look at Rodney with something very dark in his eyes, but doesn’t speak.

Sam glances between them, and says gently, “I’m not sure you two need me for this conversation. Or this evening.”

Rodney opens his mouth to protest, and shuts it. Because…oh. She’s right.

Sheppard’s face smooths over as he looks back in Sam’s direction. Rodney’s seen him do that a thousand times, shift entirely to speak to someone, present a whole new Sheppard. Rodney’s also fairly sure that the look full of things unspoken isn’t one he’s ever seen aimed at anyone but himself.

That seems important, incredibly so, but what he wants to think is elusive, slipping just out of his grasp, and anyway Sam is telling some story.

“- so then the General jumps on Daniel, and hugs him like he’s going to fly away. But the best part is that, while he’s clinging to Daniel, he doesn’t say anything, except ‘spacemonkey.’ Now tell me, what the hell kind of greeting is that?”

Rodney isn’t looking at Sam, because what she’s saying is irrelevant, kind of a non sequitor, really, and so he catches the change in Sheppard’s expression, an impossibly slight relaxation around his mouth and eyes.

Sam is telling Sheppard something, but Rodney’s a little too caught up in realizing how well he knows that mouth and those eyes to really catch the underlying message. Because he does know Sheppard’s face, all its myriad of expressions, both fake and natural. He knows Sheppard’s face and Sheppard’s body – sharing a tent offworld will do that – and Sheppard’s weird little brain.

He knows Sheppard. In ways he’s never known Sam Carter.

Sam touches his arm, gently, before she slides into her car. “Make sure you’re at the lab at nine in the morning, Rodney. We have a lot of work to do.” A pause, and then – “Colonel Sheppard should probably come in when you do; I think the General is running a military debrief then.”

Again, there’s something significant, just past the surface that he can’t quite see, and Sam shakes her head at him.

“Don’t worry, Colonel. I’ve got him,” Sheppard says, steering Rodney to the passenger side of the car they’d borrowed from the SGC pool, an ugly little maroon thing Rodney already hates. “I’ll make sure he gets some sleep.”

Rodney looks down at Sheppard’s hand resting on his forearm, an inch from where Sam’s had brushed. Her touch had been the slide of fabric over his skin; Sheppard’s is like having an electric spark burn through him.

Oh. Oh.

Sam’s grinning again, that incredible smile that used to send chills down his spine. Rodney looks stupidly between her and Sheppard – John, maybe? – wondering how long she’s known.

Or for that matter, how long Sheppard has known. And why the hell Sheppard – no, John, he needs to remember that – hasn’t ever said anything.

O’Neill and Jackson, huh?

“Goodnight,” Sam tells him, and he barely glances at her long enough to nod before he’s snarling at Sh – at John.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me I could’ve been getting laid?”

John smiles, and it’s eerily reminiscent of Sam. “Because she told you for me.”

Well, there is that.

Rodney finds himself incredibly grateful that Sam changed the game. He’s been right all along; she’s the only person in the universe who might be smarter than him.

Though, since he knows she’s smarter, and actually sensed it before he had any real proof, maybe that means that since they have identical IQs he’s ahead on instinct?

Right, then. Still more of a genius than everyone else.