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sga_flashficTitle: McKay of Steel, Sheppard of Kleenex
Authors:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tzi & zaganthi
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay
Rating: Somewhere between R and NC-17, I'm guessing, but it's not exactly porn. There's a first time for everything! Obviously AU.
Summary: He really shouldn't have ever read that article. Rodney hated Larry Niven.
Spoilers: None that we know of. Really, it's remarkably silly ^_~
Length: 1,562 words.
He had never wanted them to know.
It had always been his one, great secret. Keeping it had driven his parents apart. It had made things difficult with Jeannie, too, and Rodney hated that, had always hated it.
He had hoped that coming to the Pegasus Galaxy would change things. It was unfortunate that it hadn't, not all that much. Rodney had to say, though, he had a hell of a lot easier time hiding than, say, Clark Kent. People expected scientists to be brilliant, lazy, and a little soft around the middle.
All of which Rodney was, and the fact that they'd gone from a G2V yellow dwarf to a G2 subgiant did help a little. The brighter light magnitude was interesting, and it had done away with most of his powers.
Most of them. Only two remained.
The first had always been the bane of his existence: x-ray vision. What kind of guy could ever resist getting in a peek of what was going on behind walls? It was unfortunate that he tended to notice the things that made him paranoid, and not the kind of stuff that would make a guy hot. Rotting wall joists and cockroaches and bombs. At least Atlantis didn't have roaches yet, but he expected some freak from the Daedalus to introduce them to the planet any day now.
The second was the Kiss of Lethe.
Whoever had spilled the beans about that one was really in need of a slap in the mouth.
It was supposed to be the Kiss of Forgetfulness not the Kiss of Blabbing about it and getting it written about in comics and bad movies. Of course, the upside was that everyone thought that they were a joke and didn't actually exist. Or that Kal-El was only in Metropolis, last of his kind, big huge drama queen, blah blah blah.
That phony story did make life easier for the rest of them who didn't have too much interest in brawny world-saving.
"Hey, McKay." Speaking of brawny world-saving. In John's case, it was more like skinny-assed world-saving, but a man couldn't have everything, now, could he?
"I was wondering where you'd managed to get off to. You know, there is a party going on back there. Right?"
"It was crowded," Rodney excused, shrugging his shoulders before he leaned onto the railing to look out onto the ocean. Party. He hadn't even been able to make the most of the 'we saved you' karma from the Athosian women at the last big party they had.
"Just checking." John strolled forward, canting a hip to lean against the railing, as well. "I mean, all things considered, you kind of ought to be the center of attention, Superman."
Great. Just what he needed teasing about. Or not so much.
"Superman is tired." He hunched into the railing a little more, and closed his eyes. "Spectacularly tired. What made you idiots decide to hold a party after I've been up for forty-eight hours? Also, I think that Athosian dessert has citrus. It had a smell to it." Not that he was all that allergic to it. It just felt really nasty in his mouth, and he'd gotten accustomed to faking at being sick to avoid needles and doctors and make people think he saw a lot of them without having to do so. Now, though, getting hurt was part of the daily grind. Stubbed toes and puncture wounds and bruises, and they all hurt.
"Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure they weren't trying to kill you. Mostly sure." John was grinning at him, and he carefully lifted himself to sit on the ledge of the balcony. What was he, insane? Then again, his scrawny butt didn't exactly edge very far over it.
"If you fall into the ocean from that height, the water would probably feel the same as hitting concrete. Just for reference." Rodney muffled a yawn, and tilted his head to look at John a little more intensely. He was really... something. He was fantastic on the eyes, for one, but he was one of the few people Rodney had ever trusted to lead him anywhere.
He'd almost be willing to tell John his secret, except for the fact that John would never, ever believe him. It was strange that the thought kind of hurt.
"You know, I had this roommate once who used to bitch about the same thing?" John said, leaning back just a little more than Rodney was comfortable with seeing. "Don't worry, McKay. I've got my feet braced." He shook one at Rodney.
"Yes, the air on this planet is such a perfect structural brace." Rodney glanced back at the water for a moment. "Why aren't you out there partying?"
"See, the thing is this. You've been up working the last forty-eight hours, I've been following you around guarding you and being your guinea pig for the last forty-seven."
Yes. Well. He'd allowed John a nap! Once. He was sure.
"Didn't you take a nap in there?" It was a vague, hazy question, and he twisted to try to stand up straight, as straight as he could manage. "You should get some sleep. And I should, too."
"Probably. But see, there's this party. With girls. And I'm pretty sure there's liquor in there somewhere. We can avoid the lemon dessert, okay?"
That was when John kicked the rail with his boot heel.
It was a ten thousand year old city, after all, even if it was Ancient. Rodney was still leaning against the rail, so when it gave, the metal collapsing underneath them both and pouring them into a free-fall over the ocean, Rodney scrabbled at John even though he wasn't any more anchored than Rodney was.
There wasn't even time to scream. At their altitude, there was hardly time to catch their breath, and Rodney had never, ever missed the bright yellow sun of the Milky Way so much, and then they were...
Stopped.
The metal rail flew down, down, down below them, and hit the pier before crunching into the water with a sound that vaguely reminded him of aluminum cans.
"What the FUCK, McKay!?" John's voice squeaked. It didn't even do that when death was more imminent than imminent.
"Oh, god. Oh, god, I didn't know I could still do that, I swear, Colonel, I--" Oh, oh fuck, he was flying, and he had a hold on John, who was going to have questions and demand answers and file reports and that was not going to work. Not even close, not even a little, and they were drifting upwards, faster, faster, because someone was bound to have heard or noticed or something, and they'd come running any second, and Rodney only had so many options.
"Jesus, fucking, what the...."
Once their feet were on solid (Ancient, but solid as far as Rodney knew) balcony, Rodney kissed John hard, hands cupping either side of his face. There was kissing and then there was that, with a certain degree of concentration and thought involved, rewinding John's memory a little. Just a little.
Just enough.
"Whuh...."
There were people coming now, and John was dazed, but he was swooping back in, kissing Rodney again, hard and desperate and scared, so Rodney thought about it a little harder, as hard as he could. Rodney wouldn't ever be sure if it worked because it wasn't exactly like he had a lot of practice doing it with that much pressure and his heart hammering in his chest. It wasn't even fun like real kissing, and John kept responding until Rodney gave up.
Good enough.
Things had finally settled down, at least a little. Half the command staff had caught him kissing John, and that probably wasn't good, but it was what it was. John didn't say anything about the railing or the flying, and he didn't seem to remember why they were kissing, and that had been enough for Rodney.
The party had quieted down after that, and they'd both slunk off sheepishly. Well, Rodney had slunk off sheepishly, and John had probably strolled off like he hadn't done anything more bizarre than knocking over a trash can, but that was how life was.
At least they hadn't hit the ocean.
The fact that he was getting laid now was an unexpected benefit to a not entirely altruistic action.
God, he loved the Pegasus galaxy. For once, he wasn't worried about semen shooting out of the top of his partner's head and blowing it off, or impregnating women worldwide if he jerked off.
He really shouldn't have ever read that article. Rodney hated Larry Niven.
"Wow," John moaned, rocking down hard. "You really are kinda super."
"Just 'kinda'?" The Rodney as Superman joke was ten years past old, and he wished he'd never brought it up in the first place, but he wasn't going to smack John for making it during sex because he was joking during sex, which meant that they were having sex, something Rodney's dick was happily aware of.
John had thighs that could crush a man's head, and they flexed beautifully when he lowered himself onto Rodney's dick again.
"Yeah," John panted. "Just kinda."
Okay. He could live with that.
"...Super."
Authors:
tzi & zaganthiPairing: Sheppard/McKay
Rating: Somewhere between R and NC-17, I'm guessing, but it's not exactly porn. There's a first time for everything! Obviously AU.
Summary: He really shouldn't have ever read that article. Rodney hated Larry Niven.
Spoilers: None that we know of. Really, it's remarkably silly ^_~
Length: 1,562 words.
He had never wanted them to know.
It had always been his one, great secret. Keeping it had driven his parents apart. It had made things difficult with Jeannie, too, and Rodney hated that, had always hated it.
He had hoped that coming to the Pegasus Galaxy would change things. It was unfortunate that it hadn't, not all that much. Rodney had to say, though, he had a hell of a lot easier time hiding than, say, Clark Kent. People expected scientists to be brilliant, lazy, and a little soft around the middle.
All of which Rodney was, and the fact that they'd gone from a G2V yellow dwarf to a G2 subgiant did help a little. The brighter light magnitude was interesting, and it had done away with most of his powers.
Most of them. Only two remained.
The first had always been the bane of his existence: x-ray vision. What kind of guy could ever resist getting in a peek of what was going on behind walls? It was unfortunate that he tended to notice the things that made him paranoid, and not the kind of stuff that would make a guy hot. Rotting wall joists and cockroaches and bombs. At least Atlantis didn't have roaches yet, but he expected some freak from the Daedalus to introduce them to the planet any day now.
The second was the Kiss of Lethe.
Whoever had spilled the beans about that one was really in need of a slap in the mouth.
It was supposed to be the Kiss of Forgetfulness not the Kiss of Blabbing about it and getting it written about in comics and bad movies. Of course, the upside was that everyone thought that they were a joke and didn't actually exist. Or that Kal-El was only in Metropolis, last of his kind, big huge drama queen, blah blah blah.
That phony story did make life easier for the rest of them who didn't have too much interest in brawny world-saving.
"Hey, McKay." Speaking of brawny world-saving. In John's case, it was more like skinny-assed world-saving, but a man couldn't have everything, now, could he?
"I was wondering where you'd managed to get off to. You know, there is a party going on back there. Right?"
"It was crowded," Rodney excused, shrugging his shoulders before he leaned onto the railing to look out onto the ocean. Party. He hadn't even been able to make the most of the 'we saved you' karma from the Athosian women at the last big party they had.
"Just checking." John strolled forward, canting a hip to lean against the railing, as well. "I mean, all things considered, you kind of ought to be the center of attention, Superman."
Great. Just what he needed teasing about. Or not so much.
"Superman is tired." He hunched into the railing a little more, and closed his eyes. "Spectacularly tired. What made you idiots decide to hold a party after I've been up for forty-eight hours? Also, I think that Athosian dessert has citrus. It had a smell to it." Not that he was all that allergic to it. It just felt really nasty in his mouth, and he'd gotten accustomed to faking at being sick to avoid needles and doctors and make people think he saw a lot of them without having to do so. Now, though, getting hurt was part of the daily grind. Stubbed toes and puncture wounds and bruises, and they all hurt.
"Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure they weren't trying to kill you. Mostly sure." John was grinning at him, and he carefully lifted himself to sit on the ledge of the balcony. What was he, insane? Then again, his scrawny butt didn't exactly edge very far over it.
"If you fall into the ocean from that height, the water would probably feel the same as hitting concrete. Just for reference." Rodney muffled a yawn, and tilted his head to look at John a little more intensely. He was really... something. He was fantastic on the eyes, for one, but he was one of the few people Rodney had ever trusted to lead him anywhere.
He'd almost be willing to tell John his secret, except for the fact that John would never, ever believe him. It was strange that the thought kind of hurt.
"You know, I had this roommate once who used to bitch about the same thing?" John said, leaning back just a little more than Rodney was comfortable with seeing. "Don't worry, McKay. I've got my feet braced." He shook one at Rodney.
"Yes, the air on this planet is such a perfect structural brace." Rodney glanced back at the water for a moment. "Why aren't you out there partying?"
"See, the thing is this. You've been up working the last forty-eight hours, I've been following you around guarding you and being your guinea pig for the last forty-seven."
Yes. Well. He'd allowed John a nap! Once. He was sure.
"Didn't you take a nap in there?" It was a vague, hazy question, and he twisted to try to stand up straight, as straight as he could manage. "You should get some sleep. And I should, too."
"Probably. But see, there's this party. With girls. And I'm pretty sure there's liquor in there somewhere. We can avoid the lemon dessert, okay?"
That was when John kicked the rail with his boot heel.
It was a ten thousand year old city, after all, even if it was Ancient. Rodney was still leaning against the rail, so when it gave, the metal collapsing underneath them both and pouring them into a free-fall over the ocean, Rodney scrabbled at John even though he wasn't any more anchored than Rodney was.
There wasn't even time to scream. At their altitude, there was hardly time to catch their breath, and Rodney had never, ever missed the bright yellow sun of the Milky Way so much, and then they were...
Stopped.
The metal rail flew down, down, down below them, and hit the pier before crunching into the water with a sound that vaguely reminded him of aluminum cans.
"What the FUCK, McKay!?" John's voice squeaked. It didn't even do that when death was more imminent than imminent.
"Oh, god. Oh, god, I didn't know I could still do that, I swear, Colonel, I--" Oh, oh fuck, he was flying, and he had a hold on John, who was going to have questions and demand answers and file reports and that was not going to work. Not even close, not even a little, and they were drifting upwards, faster, faster, because someone was bound to have heard or noticed or something, and they'd come running any second, and Rodney only had so many options.
"Jesus, fucking, what the...."
Once their feet were on solid (Ancient, but solid as far as Rodney knew) balcony, Rodney kissed John hard, hands cupping either side of his face. There was kissing and then there was that, with a certain degree of concentration and thought involved, rewinding John's memory a little. Just a little.
Just enough.
"Whuh...."
There were people coming now, and John was dazed, but he was swooping back in, kissing Rodney again, hard and desperate and scared, so Rodney thought about it a little harder, as hard as he could. Rodney wouldn't ever be sure if it worked because it wasn't exactly like he had a lot of practice doing it with that much pressure and his heart hammering in his chest. It wasn't even fun like real kissing, and John kept responding until Rodney gave up.
Good enough.
Things had finally settled down, at least a little. Half the command staff had caught him kissing John, and that probably wasn't good, but it was what it was. John didn't say anything about the railing or the flying, and he didn't seem to remember why they were kissing, and that had been enough for Rodney.
The party had quieted down after that, and they'd both slunk off sheepishly. Well, Rodney had slunk off sheepishly, and John had probably strolled off like he hadn't done anything more bizarre than knocking over a trash can, but that was how life was.
At least they hadn't hit the ocean.
The fact that he was getting laid now was an unexpected benefit to a not entirely altruistic action.
God, he loved the Pegasus galaxy. For once, he wasn't worried about semen shooting out of the top of his partner's head and blowing it off, or impregnating women worldwide if he jerked off.
He really shouldn't have ever read that article. Rodney hated Larry Niven.
"Wow," John moaned, rocking down hard. "You really are kinda super."
"Just 'kinda'?" The Rodney as Superman joke was ten years past old, and he wished he'd never brought it up in the first place, but he wasn't going to smack John for making it during sex because he was joking during sex, which meant that they were having sex, something Rodney's dick was happily aware of.
John had thighs that could crush a man's head, and they flexed beautifully when he lowered himself onto Rodney's dick again.
"Yeah," John panted. "Just kinda."
Okay. He could live with that.
"...Super."
