Sigma Draconis, by Kate and Mercutio
Apr. 6th, 2007 09:37 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
bard-mercutio.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
sga_flashficWritten by Kate (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sirkate) and Mercutio (bard_mercutio).
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Words: About 8,400.
Summary: When the Ancient version of a pet is discovered, it naturally bonds with Rodney. It's not the only one.
Note: Index to the Stories. For the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
sga_flashfic Animals Challenge.
At first they didn't realize they'd found anything.
The team had been on a stand down for the last week while Ronon's leg knitted itself back together. There were bets on how long Carson could keep Ronon in the cast as well as how long it would be before Ronon simply broke the cast, started walking again, broken leg or no and forced Carson to eat the cast.
To keep busy-- and to keep Sheppard from climbing the walls-- they'd been investigating the city, with an eye to finding better living quarters. It wasn't that there was necessarily anything wrong with living in the equivalent of a closet, especially given that a room without windows was naturally more secure, but it would be nice not to have to share a bathroom.
The sculpture was in the living area of one of the rooms they'd been investigating. While Rodney had been poking around the set of rooms, looking for new tricks on the part of the Ancients, Teyla had noticed the sculpture of a dragon perched on a high ledge and called it to the others' attention.
That was when things started to go wrong.
"Ancient art," Rodney says scornfully. "Wonderful. Does it actually do anything?"
"Must art do something?" Teyla asks.
"I kinda like it," the colonel says, drawn into the discussion by Rodney's rather loud objection. He strokes the spine of the figure with his fingertip. Colored like the ocean, blue and green and gray, the dragon moves. "Holy shit." Sheppard backs up and takes hold of his gun.
"Huh," Rodney says, suddenly interested. He turns his scanner on it. "It's not alive."
"An automated response," Teyla suggests.
The sculpture turns its head, peering at her.
"More likely it's an Ancient device. Colonel Sheppard did touch it, after all," Rodney says, still absorbed in his scanner. "The real question is, what is meant to do?"
"And is it safe," Sheppard adds.
"Well, yes, that too, of course. That would be part of the whole 'what does it do' question."
The dragon looks at all three of them, then its wings, which had been couched at its sides, spread and unfold.
"It has wings!" Teyla says in surprise.
Rodney looks up. "That's... wow. Highly improbable."
"What, it having wings?" Sheppard asks. "Seems pretty probable to me."
That earns him an eyeroll. "The scanner is reading it as metal. It's not solid, but there are no organic components involved. I.e., I can't explain how that metal is moving and stretching without there being any change of temperature, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera that would explain how it's doing that."
"I wonder if it can move off of that ledge."
The dragon answers that question by gliding over to Rodney and perching himself on him. Or trying to perch itself on him. "Hey! What? Help! No touching, no touching!"
Teyla steps forward and tries to keep the creature from him, and the colonel asks, "You want me to shoot it?"
"No! It's too close. You'll shoot me." Rodney continues backing away, but the dragon doesn't take the hint. It ignores Teyla's attempts, avoiding her and swooping down on Rodney again.
"Hey, McKay, freeze," Sheppard orders.
Rodney does, reluctantly.
The dragon settles down for a landing on his shoulder, surprisingly light for being metal. Its long neck cranes around and the dragon looks at Rodney, then chirrups.
Rodney blinks. "Huh. It makes noises. I wonder why they didn't give it the capacity of speech. It would easily be within their capabilities."
"It's a pet, not a friend." The colonel walks over, cautiously extending a finger toward it.
"And how did you reach that conclusion, colonel?" Rodney watches jealously as Mr. Magic Gene reaches out to the dragon.
Which ignores him, instead chirruping again, then moving in closer to Rodney and stroking his head against his cheek.
Rodney looks, well, stunned. He reaches up to touch it and it rubs instead against his hand. "It's warm."
"It likes you," Teyla adds, smiling indulgently.
"At least we know it was endowed with good taste."
Rodney sniffs at the colonel's comment. "Given that this is the first we've found and all the other odds and ends the Ancients have left lying around, I have to wonder what its function is."
"It's a pet," Sheppard repeats. "It's just supposed to be company."
"Yes, because the Ancients were in the habit of making simple, easy-to-use devices intended for play and relaxation," Rodney says sarcastically. He hasn't stopped touching the dragon though.
"I didn't say it was for play and relaxation. Though wasn't it you who was talking about the mental benefits of cats last week?"
"Well what else are pets for?" Rodney snipes, but he stows his scanner away to take a firm hold on the dragon.
"Maybe it does little things. Like dogs can fetch the paper."
"Doubtful," Rodney says.
"Maybe it uses sonic rays to soothe headaches," Sheppard suggests, so straight faced Rodney knows he's teasing.
"That would at least be useful. I need to study it anyway, it's just as well that it's focused on me."
"All the Ancient tech loves you, Rodney."
Teyla asks, "Do you think it would permit someone without the ATA gene to touch it?"
Rodney rolls his eyes. "You already did, before Sheppard activated it."
"I think she means now that it's active, Rodney."
"Well, go ahead. It doesn't seem like it's going to move now that it's where it wants to be." Rodney turns to Teyla.
Teyla reaches out a cautious hand to the small creature. It doesn't pull away, nor does it lean into her as it does to Rodney. Her fingers pause near its face as she would with an animal, but it doesn't scent her or show any hesitation, and she strokes a line down it's slim body.
"It seems not to mind me," she says. "What type of creature is it modeled on? I am unfamiliar with such creatures, but you both seem to be familiar with its shape."
"A dragon," Rodney says. "Not that there is any such thing, but this fits the description, except they're supposed to be anywhere from the size of a car to the size of Atlantis and this one is tiny."
"A dragon? I thought they were said to be long, like a snake with short legs?" Teyla says.
"No, actually," John interjects, "there's all different kinds of dragons. Rodney's right about that part--"
"I'm always right," Rodney mutters.
"--and about its size. Although it reminds me of something I saw on a book cover once. Can't remember where though."
Rodney snaps his fingers. "Dragon books. McCaffrey. You're thinking of fire lizards."
John shrugs. "Maybe."
"Fire lizards?" Teyla asks. "Can it create flame, then?"
"Unlikely," Rodney answers, "but I would have said it couldn't fly either."
"Can it sing?" John asks absently, attention focused more on the way the wings are put together than on his words.
"For all I know, it could start talking at any time now," Rodney says, subconsciously clutching the dragon tighter as John and Teyla move in.
John backs up a step when the dragon starts to fidget. "Well, I guess you get to name it, then."
That puts a smile on Rodney's face. "Huh. I guess I do."
John smiles back. "To the lab-mobile?" he suggests.
"Sigma," Rodney says instead of agreeing. "That's its name. Sigma."
"Why sigma?" John asks.
He rolls his eyes at Sheppard. "Sigma Draconis? Ring a bell?"
John's smile gets away from him and turns into a huge doofy grin.
"Oh, shut up," Rodney says, and follows him back to Atlantis proper, with Teyla taking their rear.
It's late, and Rodney's the only one currently in the lab, having sent Miko on a coffee run. John slips in and says, "I like his name."
"His name?"
"Is it a 'her'?" John asks, coming over to lean against Rodney's bench. The dragon's wrapped around the back of Rodney's neck like a collar.
"It's a mechanical construct of a mythological animal. It doesn't have a gender."
"So you want us all to call it 'it'?"
Rodney reaches up, touching the tail that's wrapped around his throat. "I was commenting on the absurdity of assigning gender to an object. However, as I already know you've done it before, I suppose I can't stop you from calling Sigma a he."
"Sigma can be a she," John replies. "She's pretty colored."
"I prefer he, if you must use a gender," Rodney says stiffly. "At least then I feel confident you won't be trying cheap pickup lines like that on it."
John shrugs. "He looks like the ocean, when it's reflecting the sky. I like it." He smiles ruefully. "And I'm not trying to pick up your fire lizard, Rodney."
"Dragon," Rodney corrects. "And you were."
"Well, he does have that cute, blue-eyed thing going for him," John snarks.
Rodney glares at him automatically then frowns and looks away as John's words register fully. "Not funny, colonel."
"Funny?"
"Yes, you know, as in humor..." Rodney looks back up and sees something genuinely clueless in John's eyes. "Uh, nevermind. Unimportant. Don't you have something to do? Some minions to loom over?"
"I'm no longer on looming duty," John answers easily. "Did you eat? I can grab something from the mess and drop it off on my way past."
"No, I haven't eaten yet. I've been too busy trying to find any reference to Sigma in the Ancients' database. It doesn't help that I have no idea what they might have called it-- him."
"Try 'companion'?" John suggests. "I'll get food. Miko's coming with the coffee."
"Coffee," Rodney acknowledges, already keying in a new search.
John straightens and leaves the lab with one last look back. Sigma's head tilts up from Rodney's collarbone and the slitted eyes flash before closing again. Dragons. Neat.
Rodney grunts at Miko when she delivers his coffee. The coffee helps him think, but it also calms him down, which is useful, because Sheppard's suggestion has paid out. Not that a simple search on 'companion' did the trick, but it was enough to lead Rodney to find the right path to the answer.
It's not enough to help him deal with the implications of what he's found though and he's basically staring at the screen when John comes back with food.
Taking one look at Rodney's face, John sets the tray aside and moves up to Rodney's side. "What's up?"
"I found out what Sigma was designed for."
"Yeah?"
Rodney nods. "He's a... have you heard of therapy animals?"
"For traumatized people? Yeah. The had some at the VA I was shipped back to a while ago."
Rodney grimaces. "Yes. That's the idea. Only Sigma is slightly more advanced than that. He's designed to find the person most in need of him-- presumably with the Ancient gene-- and, well, I suppose you could say take care of them. Originally, he would have sent reports to their equivalent of Heightmeyer on the patient's well being. The Ancients apparently had no real concern for privacy."
"So, you're bothered that he picked you?" John asks, keeping his voice low.
"Hello? Yes, of course, I'm bothered. He picked me because I'm the most screwed up person in Atlantis."
"Rodney. You have two full-time jobs. You're completely responsible, at least in your own mind, for every civilian in Atlantis. And you're a soldier-- you go offworld and have to do and see and experience horrible situations, and stressful situations, and things you're not trained for. And you do both of these things every day, in spite of the fact that your great, big brain makes you horribly aware of all the many and sundry ways each situation could kill us all. I see nothing wrong with you having a need of some sort of mental support. If anybody on Atlantis deserves comfort, it's you."
Rodney stares at him, mouth open. "That's..." He shakes his head. "Put that way, it almost sounds reasonable."
John smiles a little. "There's a reason I never mind when you panic. It just means that you're dealing. It's when you don't react that I know something's wrong. All things considered, you're fairly well mentally balanced."
"Hah! I'm extremely well balanced mentally!" Sigma chooses that moment to nose Rodney's ear, nipping at his earlobe. Rodney bites his lip. "Am so." Sigma chirrups at him. "Stupid mind reading Ancient psychology pets," Rodney says, petting Sigma.
John reaches out to rub a calloused fingertip over Sigma's neck. "Good mind reading Ancient psychology pet."
The dragon rubs back for a moment before twining himself back around Rodney.
"It's ridiculous, you know," Rodney says suddenly, shifting uncomfortably. "I know he's not alive and that he's designed for specifically this purpose, but I keep feeling as though he likes me. Makes me feel better. Stupid really."
"He does like you. He's Atlantis," John insists, "and Atlantis likes people. She likes me, and she likes you."
That makes Rodney look more normal again, as he rolls his eyes at John's comment. "The city is not sentient and neither is Sigma. It's a matter of programming."
"Exactly. The programming likes you." John grins.
Rodney rolls his eyes again. "Yes, as though programming has feelings."
"AIs do."
"Sigma is not an AI."
"No. But he's not FreeCell, either."
"Yes, because I find FreeCell so comforting. Go away colonel and let me eat in peace."
John pats Rodney on the back. "Don't stay up too late," he orders and leaves Rodney to his research and Sigma.
Rodney stares wistfully after him for a long moment before Sigma nuzzling his cheek brings him back to himself and he begins to eat.
John walks into the lab a week later. Rodney's yelling at someone, as usual. Not as usual, Sigma's reared up on his shoulder with wings spread. "Whoa," John mutters, moving over to Zelenka's bench. "What's going on?"
"Usual," Zelenka says, shrugging. "Idiots come out to play and nearly break important systems. Rodney will explain their error to them in words they will understand."
"Sigma do that often?"
"No, never. That is odd," Zelenka admits.
John starts toward Rodney. Something seems wrong. Not just unusual, but seriously off, and it's making him twitchy.
"--going to be monitoring the sewage system until I'm absolutely certain that you're capable of understanding basic principles like cause and effect!" Rodney says loudly, hands moving fast. "At least down there, the feedback will be impossible to ignore. And you'll be suffering from the consequences of your own actions."
"Rodney?" John asks. It's the tone he uses to get a report from Rodney in the field.
It's when Rodney turns his head to look at the colonel that it happens. The disgruntled scientist who Rodney had been yelling at moves forward, fists raising-- and Sigma launches himself off of Rodney's shoulder, wings flapping in the man's face, wedge shaped head darting in close.
"Shit!" John says, and puts himself between Sigma and the scientist. It's not the wisest move, but as much as he'd like to deck the man himself, it's his job to protect all the scientists. "Back. Get out, get out," he insists, shoving the startled scientist toward the door and the marines gathered there, alerted by the yelling. "Take him to his room," he orders them, trying to keep Sigma from following. And from scratching the hell out of John's hands and face. He calls for Rodney to help only after the other scientist has been hustled away.
Sigma returns to Rodney once the door closes behind the other scientist and settles in his accustomed perch on Rodney's shoulders, but sitting up, forefoot resting in Rodney's hair.
"Are you all right?" Rodney asks John.
John replies, "My hair will never be the same." There are a few throbbing spots on his hands, face, and neck, but Sigma doesn't seem to have broken the skin. A very talented companion. "Come to the balcony with me. I think we should discuss this."
Rodney nods and follows John. His hand shakes as he reaches up to touch Sigma.
Once they're on a secluded balcony, John watches Rodney step forward to lean on the rail. He settles his hands firmly on Rodney's hunched shoulders and starts rubbing firmly.
Rodney startles, but interestingly, Sigma doesn't. "What-- why are you-- doing that?"
"Relax. You need it."
He trembles a little under John's hands. "I'm fine. Surprised that moron tried to attack me, but fine."
"He won't get another chance," John promises. He chuckles. "Not that he'll try. Within the hour, everyone will know about your guardian dragon."
"Yes, I'd read about that, but I hadn't expected to actually encounter that function in use, not on Atlantis. Of course, history proves that danger can occur here as well, but..." Rodney trails off, shaking his head.
"Scoot, Sigma," John says, and when the dragon lifts up, his hands move to Rodney's neck. "You should maybe have mentioned this to me. Since I am the military commander, and Sigma can act as a weapon. A defensive weapon."
"It didn't seem important, since I'd thought I'd be leaving Sigma on Atlantis for missions. And I hadn't envisioned him actually attacking anyone. The database implied that he'd react negatively toward people who threatened me, but it didn't explicitly say he would attack anyone."
"It's pretty cool, though." Rodney's head has fallen forward and the tension in his shoulders has relaxed a bit. It's kind of awkward, since Sigma won't actually move out of the way.
"Yes. I suppose the discrepancy is due to differing expectations. Given what Sigma can do, the Ancients could have used him and others like him as a diagnostic tool to identify people in need of psychiatric care. If those people were then taken off duty or their duties scaled back, it would remove them from areas where attack-type behaviors would be necessary."
"And then if they were forced into such situations, the protection offered by Sigma Dragons would reduce the stress on the person. It's a fairly good plan." John's hands settle on Rodney's shoulders. "Speaking of stress, how're you doing?"
"Fine, fine," Rodney says. "We're not being attacked and, aside from Ronon, everyone's healthy. It's practically summer vacation."
"We're in a creepy galaxy of space vampires and stupid people with PhDs that make them think they're brilliant instead of just booksmart. There's plenty to be stressed about."
"Yes, thank you for reminding me." Rodney sighs and straightens up, turning around to face the colonel. "I actually do feel a little better with Sigma here. I think he is helping. It's not quite like having my cat-- I keep remembering that Sigma doesn't have feelings and doesn't like me for his own reasons-- but it does help."
"Yeah, but I like you. Much better than having a small dragon who can't do math like you."
"Yes, well," Rodney flips his hand dismissively, "you don't curl yourself up and fall asleep on my stomach." His hand moves down, unconsciously stroking that area of his anatomy. "It's nice having something warm nestling into you like that."
John's shrug is a little stiff. "Dunno. I never had a pet."
"That's very sad, colonel." Rodney seems to genuinely mean it.
"We moved a lot. I tried fish for a while, but fish-- kinda suck as pets." He looks over the water for a moment. "It wouldn't've been good for a pet to move that often, anyway."
"I'm sorry," Rodney says, touching his arm.
John grins carelessly. "S'okay. I bet Teyla never had a pet either. C'mon, time to get back to work. E-mail me the report on that scientist, and your recommendation. No rush, he's definitely confined to quarters for at least the next couple days."
Rodney drops his hand, backing away. Sigma rubs his head against Rodney's cheek in a gesture of comfort, even as Rodney says, "Yes, yes, of course. Not that I was worried about him and I-- work, yes." He circles around John, heading back inside.
John catches Rodney's elbow as he passes. "Hey, I... thanks. For," he frowns, clearly uncomfortable, "y'know, um. The pet thing."
He gets a quickly muttered 'you're welcome' before Rodney pulls away.
"If you find another one, do you think I could--" John breaks off and rubs his hand over his face. "No, I probably can't. It'd freak my marines out."
That brings Rodney back to him. "Colonel-- John, you realize... I might be able to find more, but given the way they work, there's no guarantee that it would choose you. You may even be the least likely choice. Although I can't do anything about the Marines." He runs his hand through his hair. "If you're concerned about the Marines, then I suppose--" Rodney sighs. "Forget it, stupid thought."
"Hey! Hang out with me this week sometime. Maybe I can convince Sigma to share the love."
"Sure, let me know when," Rodney says while walking away. He disappears inside.
The email that comes in reply to Rodney's report is short.
'Busy tonight? Or the day after tomorrow? I've got a night shift tomorrow.'
Rodney's reply is equally brief.
'I can make time either day.'
'Tonight, then. I'll swing by and get you for dinner. Two hours.'
Rodney's ready when John comes to get him, shutting down the computer with every appearance of eagerness to be gone.
They eat quickly and retire to Rodney's room to sprawl around watching DVDs. John doesn't make any attempt to get at Sigma, but stays close to the side of Rodney opposite Sigma's head.
Halfway through the movie, the dragon uncurls from McKay's shoulders and walks down, across his chest, to lie on his stomach. He curls up again, giving every appearance of falling asleep.
Rodney shifts a little, not enough to disturb the dragon, so that he can pet Sigma.
John's watching the screen and not paying much attention to his actions. His temple is resting lightly against Rodney's shoulder and his hand, resting on his own leg, is only a few inches from Sigma. He makes no effort to touch the dragon.
Yawning as though Sigma's actions were contagious, Rodney shifts again, this time moving his free arm up, hand going behind his head. The bed dips slightly and, as Sheppard is on that side, he gets rolled a little more into Rodney.
Muttering irritably, John settles his head more firmly on Rodney's shoulder. "Stop moving. I'm tryin' to relax here."
"Trying to get comfortable here."
John heaves a put upon sign and slides down to rest his head against Rodney's ribs instead. Sigma sits up a bit, blocking his view. "Down in front, Sigma," he orders.
Sigma stretches out to his full length, then moves, settling between them.
John unconsciously snuggles his head into Rodney's side.
It's only a few minutes later before Rodney's hand is in John's hair, petting him with long, soothing strokes.
"Mmm," John sleepily agrees. The DVD is one they've watched a dozen times before, and he's tired. And it's Rodney, so he closes his eyes and dozes off.
Rodney could use the sleep, but he likes this better, because John is better than Sigma, better even than his cat. John curling up to sleep on him means a whole lot more to him than either of the others sleeping on him. So he stays awake until the DVD is all the way over, enjoying the feeling.
Rodney says something, John can feel the movement against his cheek, can sort of hear him. But it's not in one of the many Rodney tones that requires actual listening, so John breathes deeply in and then out and doesn't move or think.
Waking up with John plastered to him is infinitely superior to having the dragon (or even a cat) sleeping on him come morning. A cat can be mistaken for something else or not even noticed when he wakes up. But Rodney can't possibly miss John lying against him. Fortunately, he doesn't have to.
John's still asleep, though his head has migrated from near Rodney's hip to his upper arm. He looks calm, but the lines on his forehead and at the corners of his eyes don't vanish completely, even in sleep. His eyes move behind closed lids. His hand on Rodney's stomach twitches slightly.
Rodney decides to risk waking John up and brings the arm that John isn't sleeping on up to run through his hair.
John's eyes open and focus on Rodney immediately, and his body tenses for a moment before subsiding. "Hey," he says. "Morning."
He freezes for a moment, regretting having woken John, then sighs. There are other things to do. More important things even on the world-saving scale. Rodney keeps stroking John's hair. "Hi. Guess we fell asleep."
"S'okay. Not like we haven't shared close quarters before," John replies, sitting up and stretching until his back crackles. "You sleep alright? Sorry if I crowded you. It was good to hang out again."
"And welcome back to the wonderful world of denial. Yes, I slept fine. I mentioned the whole cat thing, didn't I?"
"Denial?"
Rodney waves the hand that feels empty without John's hair under it. "Nothing ever happened, nothing ever will happen and if it does, it will be immediately forgotten."
John's face wrinkles up in total confusion, like it does when Rodney goes too far into a physics problem. "What are you talking about?" he asks, but not like he doesn't believe Rodney.
"Obviously nothing, colonel," Rodney says and gets out of bed.
"Rodney!" John says. "What?"
Rodney has his back to John now. It makes things easier. "You're better than a cat."
"Yeah?" John asks, flattered in spite of the possibly negative implications of the statement. Rodney loves cats. He smiles. "I'm glad."
"Yes," Rodney says, resigned. John isn't going to get it, isn't going to understand what he's really saying, but Rodney's not going to say more to the hot, clueless straight military guy.
"So... are we cool?"
"Of course."
"You wanna do this again tomorrow?"
That makes Rodney turn back around, smiling. "Yeah? That'd be great."
"You want me to raid the lending library for whatever's in before I come over?" John asks, standing up and starting to straighten his clothes.
"As long as you get something appropriate and not something with improbable science or littered with women crying, fine."
"I'll bring it all. I'm the commander, I can steal all the movies for one night." John looks at Rodney and then looks around. "Where's your dragon?"
Rodney frowns. "I don't know."
John looks around, frowning. "This is weird. Maybe under the bed?"
Rodney looks under the bed, then shakes out the covers. Sigma's nowhere to be seen.
John picks up his radio from the desk. "D'you want me to have my guys look for him?"
Still frowning, Rodney shakes his head. "I have a theory. And if I'm right, that would be both unnecessary and embarrassing."
"What's the theory?"
Rodney wraps his arms around his chest before lifting his chin and saying, "Sigma was designed to go to the person who needed him the most. If he's not here, then the most likely conclusion is that he's with another gene carrier."
John frowns. "There's no bonding mechanism? Because that's pretty stupid." He puts his hand on Rodney's arm just above the elbow and squeezes lightly. "I mean, it's not logical to assume that just because someone is suddenly worse off means that the person he was with didn't still need him."
Rodney shrugs, not meeting John's eyes. "We don't know what precise criteria were programmed into Sigma. Perhaps when his patient found another source of emotional support--" He breaks off abruptly. "No, you're right. Not logical at all."
John asks, "So. You can maybe trust me with that?"
He doesn't say anything and he's still hugging himself.
"Hey," John says gently. "Hey, no. Rodney." His arms close around Rodney, pulling his tense friend close and hugging him tightly. "It'll be all right. We can reprogram Sigma or something."
"Yes, because taking him away from the traumatized individual he's ended up with is a good idea." Rodney sighs and leans just a tiny bit into John.
"Maybe it's someone who's leaving soon," John suggests. "Or someone who's just feeling massively overwhelmed today."
"Thank you for that note of comfort." Rodney doesn't pull away. "However, that's hardly likely. No doubt, he decided that I have emotional support, which, yes, you're quite good at when you choose to bother, but doesn't do anything for me when I've managed to disappoint you again or you're having man PMS or whatever you want to call it when--. And let's not even mention that I've been rejected. Again."
"Okay, first off? You are not allowed to ever say PMS in reference to me again. Second, I'll be here, even if I'm disappointed. You're still here, even when I suck things up. And who rejected you? I'll go kick her ass. By which I mean, I'll have Teyla kick her ass."
That makes Rodney snort. "If you do, you have to have it taped. A Teyla/Samantha Carter smackdown would make my permanent play list."
"She rejected you recently? I already knew she was nowhere near as smart as you think she is, but I thought she'd've learned by now."
"Other way around really." Rodney sighs. John's stroking his back. It feels nice. Especially since any minute now John's going to remember that he's a man and men don't do this. "It's fine. At least this time I'm being rejected for not being screwed up enough. It's a novelty."
"Oh, Sigma. He's not rejecting you, Rodney. He's a badly programmed toaster." He rubs his fingers against the tensed muscles in Rodney's neck.
"Rejected by a toaster. The high point of my day."
"It's not rejection. You're the one who keeps insisting he has no emotional awareness. He can't reject you if he has no self-awareness."
"Well, obviously," Rodney grumbles, "but we're talking about emotion, which has very little to do with rational thinking."
"Oh," John replies, leaning back so he can see Rodney. "But, hey, at least you still have me."
Rodney mutters something in reply that sounds a lot like, "I fish."
"You fish?"
"No!" Rodney says indignantly.
"I'll take you fishing on the mainland," John teases.
"No, thank you," Rodney says, finally pulling back from John.
John lets him go with a final pat. "Yeah, well. I hate fishing. But if you change your mind..."
"Man PMS," Rodney mutters.
"I told you--" John's radio squawks at him. "Crap, be right there. I'm late for a meeting," he tells Rodney. "See you tomorrow night, about 19:30 hours."
Rodney nods. "See you then, assuming nothing is blowing up."
"You'll be the second to know," John replies, and jogs off down the hall.
When he goes into the lab, he finds out who Sigma has transferred his affections to-- Miko Kusangai. She spends the first half hour of the day profusely apologizing to him. He doesn't yell at her-- he doesn't have the heart.
John manages to email him a couple of times, but they don't really communicate until the next afternoon, when John radios him. "We still on for tonight?"
He gets a curt "Yes," in reply, followed a few seconds later by, "if someone doesn't save me from these morons, they're going to need an armed guard to save them from me."
"I'll see what I can do," John replies. A few moments later, there's an official request for Rodney's help in the control room.
Rodney goes, grumbling the whole way.
When he arrives he finds coffee and sort-of-donuts, and a nice technical problem that lets him work completely alone while still providing the opportunity to bitch at the DHD monkey of the moment. Chuck's on night shifts this week.
John smiles at him and pats his shoulder in passing.
"Marginally better," Rodney comments, only incidentally at John.
John disappears shortly thereafter. He is still on duty, after all, and has work to finish before he and Rodney meet for movie night.
As soon as the DHD repair is done, Rodney vanishes into his quarters. He can do the rest of his work from his laptop. It's that or go back to the labs armed.
John radios him at 18:00. "Do you mind if I show up early?" he asks. "I'll bring dinner and we can both escape the crowd."
"Early is good. Dinner is better."
"Tonight's yak-thing or Triharan salad with chicken. Which?"
"Chicken. The yak-thing gives me gas."
"Yeah. Let's avoid that. See you in an hour." There's some upset nattering in the background, sounding suspiciously Scottish. "Gotta go."
Rodney's too distracted to notice. "Fine, fine. An hour."
When John shows up, it's with an escort. Teyla delivers the food, deftly clearing space on Rodney's desk as John hobbles over to take a seat in the empty chair after tossing a bunch of DVDs on the bed.
"I wish you a pleasant evening. Rodney, John," Teyla says, smiling her cat-that-ate-the-canary smile before leaving.
"Huh," John grunts. "She seemed pretty pleased about something." He shakes his head and turns to his meal
"What happened to you?" Rodney asks as he takes custody of his own dinner.
"Zigged when I should've zagged," John replies. When Rodney scoffs, he expands on his answer. "One of the new guys was training with me. He screwed up a throw, and it was a choice between him breaking his own arm and me taking a rough fall. I took the fall, but I fell wrong somehow. Might've had to do with the wall right there. Managed to bruise my whole left side up and strain the knee trying to catch myself."
"Hero complex."
"How is that a hero complex?"
"You saved him from injury by getting injured yourself. Typical."
John shrugs and pokes his salad. "Strangely enough, I don't really enjoy hurting people."
"But you do enjoy hurting yourself?" Rodney asks, steadily demolishing his food.
John rolls his eyes and doesn't answer, turning his attention to his food.
"...and then Radek starting cooing over Sigma-- who now has an unpronounceable Japanese name that means wind or summer or something random. I mean, Zelenka. He's the only hope for Atlantis should something happen to me and he was just as twitterpated as Miko. It's really unfair that Elizabeth won't let non-military personnel go armed when not on missions."
"You can't shoot your staff, Rodney. We need them to carry out your evil commands."
"Hah. My commands are not evil. If I were evil, I'd already have taken over."
"Nah. Too much work. You don't want to be in charge of the diplomats or the military."
"I'd delegate," Rodney says, waving his fork at John. "You can keep the military, Teyla can have the diplomats and the non-scientists can go learn to farm on the mainland and do something useful for a change."
"You want the military cooking your meals and doing your laundry?" John asks skeptically.
"No, no, not those non-scientists. The anthro-whatsits and the people arguing about the use of the nominative tense in Satedan."
John laughs. "My mistake," he says, stealing a 'crouton' from Rodney's salad.
Rodney kindly doesn't stab him with his fork.
John pushes the last of his salad toward Rodney a few minutes later and carefully sprawls back in the chair.
"You can go lie down, you know. If that's more comfortable," Rodney says as he finishes off John's salad.
"Your mattress is like a rock. It's only more comfortable when there's you as padding."
Rodney flushes. "Yes, well, you're welcome."
"I'll wait. Thanks, though."
"I'm almost done."
"No rush. Beckett forced drugs on me, and they're kicking in."
Rodney blinks at him. "You must have hit your head too. You don't usually let Carson slip you the good stuff."
"He said he'd restrain me to the bed for my own good. I wanted to come watch movies."
Pushing his plate back, Rodney turns to John. "Are you going to need help to get to the bed?"
"Nope. I'm mobile, just very hobble-y."
"Are you sure?" Rodney's standing now, between John and the bed, hands fluttering.
"Sit down, Rodney," John says, smiling at him.
Still looking worried, Rodney takes a seat on the bed.
John rolls the chair over with a push of his right foot and then transfers over to sit next to Rodney, though without leaning against him. He asks, "Pick a movie and set up?"
Rodney grabs the stack of movies, mutters over them for a few minutes then chooses one to put in his laptop. "Not too bad."
"Glad you approve," John says, settling with his weight braced against Rodney's side.
"Feel free to take shameless advantage of my personal space," Rodney says and tilts the computer so John can see it as well.
"Oh. Sorry," John says and sits up a bit.
Rodney rolls his eyes. "That was an invitation, you idiot."
"Oh, good," John replies and settles back against Rodney. "You're warm. Keeps me from getting stiff."
"Should you be here?" Rodney asks suspiciously. "If you're that injured?"
John rolls his eyes. "I'm bruised and battered, not critical. Jeez, anybody'd think you don't want me here."
"Ah. No. I... I'm simply concerned for the health of a friend. That's all." Rodney stares at the computer screen.
"I'm fine, Rodney. And I want to be here."
"Good," is all Rodney permits himself to say.
The movie's half through when John tilts his head up to say something to Rodney. He's feeling no pain, feeling warm and relaxed and happy in a way he doesn't really remember being in a long time. Rodney smiles at him and it's a sweet, crooked smile.
John blinks rapidly. "Oh. Oh! I, uh, I totally had no idea," he says apologetically. "It just-- I didn't think."
Rodney frowns at him. "What?"
Frowning, John replies, "The me-you thing."
The frown is replaced by a blush. "There is no me-you thing. Not that I wouldn't l-- No, no me-you thing."
"There is, I just didn't know it was that kind of me-you thing. I, well. Probably 'cause you're a man. And so smart." John studies Rodney's face, seeing familiar expressions but understanding them differently now.
"I-- you--" Rodney licks his lips. "Look-- I-- I can't do anything about the man thing or the smart thing. If that's why it hasn't been that kind of me-you thing."
"Just why I didn't think of it," John replies. "B'cause I'm a man, and they're usually normal-smart. Not you-smart."
"That makes absolutely no sense, you realize," Rodney says and licks his lips again before gathering his non-existent courage and leaning in to kiss John.
John's reply is the way his lips press against Rodney's as if evaluating. They rub lightly together; soft, barely wet kisses with no tongue and no thought and more trust than passion.
"I can't believe this is really happening," Rodney whispers, then moves in for more. He uses his free hand to gently touch John's side.
John puts his hand over Rodney's, pressing the broad palm and spread fingers against his ribs. His hand trails up Rodney's arm, over his shoulder and neck and into his hair to change the angle a tiny bit. His mouth opens under Rodney's.
This is the best thing that's ever happened to Rodney. Better even than stepping through the Stargate. Maybe better than a Nobel. Maybe. He takes advantage of John's open lips.
Rodney tastes like tangy salad dressing. John smiles into the kiss.
"This is... wow. Yes. Do you want... what can we do? Kissing's all right, obviously, but I'd really like to touch you and, yes, definitely more than that if you do."
John rubs his nose against Rodney's jaw. "Mmm. I really have no idea. Never done this, the me-you-guy-thing, before."
"Never?" Rodney stares at him. "You... you're doing this for me? Oh. That is so hot."
John laughs, low and dirty. "You have a virgin kink? That is so you."
"No, not a virgin kink," Rodney says, rolling his eyes. "But you turned gay for me. Do you have any idea what that does for my ego?"
"Is it anything like it does for your dick? Because that's getting bigger," John says, eyes dropping to Rodney's lap.
"It's hot," Rodney repeats. "I told you that. Where did you leave your brain anyway?"
John's eyes track back up to Rodney's face, and he swallows hard before asking, "You know you have really really broad shoulders, right?"
Rodney's gaze sharpens. "Are you tracking at all?" He snaps his fingers in front of John's face. John blinks slowly at him. "You're not," he says flatly. "You're half-asleep. Carson gave you something."
"You already knew that. It doesn't change the fact that you have really broad shoulders, and you kiss really well." John leans in a bit to confide, "I keep thinking of this cheerleader I screwed on spring break, and how her legs kept slipping off my shoulders. And I bet my legs wouldn't ever slip off yours."
"This is-- that is-- that would be so incredibly hot if I wasn't sure that you're going to regret this tomorrow and shun me for months because of this." Rodney sighs. "You need to sleep this off, colonel."
"I'm really not that out of it. And don't call me colonel. It's not nice when I want to kiss you. Makes me feel like I'm taking advantage of you or something."
"You're out of it enough that I'd be the one taking advantage of you. Not that I'd have a problem with that except that I actually want you speaking to me tomorrow."
"If it's good enough, I'll be all slutty in the morning," John confides.
"You can't tell me things like that!" Rodney says, trying to get out from under John with as little touching as possible.
"Can you give blowjobs? Will you? Can I have a blowjob and then maybe some pseudofucking?" John grins wickedly.
Rodney wants to promise John everything. For John, anything. Instead, he gets out of the bed. "You can spend the night here. I-- I can get some work done instead."
John's jaw drops, and he just stares at Rodney.
"Unless you need Carson. I-- he's-- He can be discreet."
"You don't..." John straightens. "Oh, fuck. Jesus. Yeah, I'm-- I'm sorry. I'll just go." He turns and starts using the wall to pull himself to his feet.
"No, John," Rodney says, mouth twisting with distress. "I do. I want to." He takes two quick steps until he's hovering by John. He hesitates for a moment, then reaches for John, trying to steady him. "I'm trying to be noble here, not turn you down."
"You're Rodney! Noble is for life-and-death situations only! The rest of the time you're too smart to be noble."
Rodney laughs harshly as he assists John back to the bed. "I'm too much of a coward to be noble. Noble is for impressing you."
"You don't have to try to do that, Rodney. I'm already impressed with you," John says, resisting Rodney's attempts to push him down. "I'm leaving unless you're coming to bed with me, McKay."
"Fine." Rodney sits down at the foot of the bed.
"Take off your pants."
Rodney crosses his arms. "This is a very bad idea."
John takes off his shirt. "No, it's not."
Rodney immediately focuses on the bared skin, unable to look away. "It's... uh. Yes."
John sits down and stretches his legs out on the bed. "Take off your pants," he repeats.
Rodney's hands go to his waist.
John draws his lower lip between his teeth and watches, eyes focused totally on Rodney's hands.
Rodney doesn't look away from John as he unfastens his pants. "This is totally not worth it if you won't even look at me tomorrow."
"I'm going to wrap my hand around your dick and jerk you off tomorrow. I'm gonna look in your face when I do it."
The sudden rush of heat catches him by surprise. Rodney groans and clutches at his groin. "You can't say things like that, or this is all going to be over before you can touch me."
"Then you can touch me until you're ready to be touched again," John replies, and rubs his hand over the front of his pants. His breath catches as he rubs circles over the head of his dick.
"That's so sexy," Rodney says. "We're doing this, aren't we? We're going to do this."
"Oh, yeah."
Rodney quickly strips off his pants and shirt.
John's eyes are wide and dark and his breathing ragged. "Rodney," he whispers. "Oh, fuck."
"It's okay?" Rodney asks, eyes uncertain. "You aren't... uh."
"I'm so, so..." John says, and fumbles his fly open so he can put his hand in his underwear.
"Can I... I want to touch."
John nods jerkily. "Touch, please. Yeah, fuck, Rodney!"
Rodney tentatively places his hand on John's chest, then, when John doesn't protest, takes a deep breath and leans forward. He tugs John's hand away from his pants and helps John pull them down enough to expose his groin.
Spreading his thighs as much as he can, John takes Rodney's hand in his and wraps it around his dick. "Oh, fuck," he repeats. "Oh, Jesus," and his hand settles on Rodney's thigh. "I wanna touch you."
Rodney doesn't answer, bending down to lick at John's dick.
John's hand closes tightly on Rodney's leg, and he makes a pathetic moaning sound.
Rodney takes that as approval and takes John's dick in his mouth, letting his tongue wrap around it before taking it all the way in.
After a few seconds, John regains enough coordination to get his hand around Rodney's dick and start mindlessly stroking. His hips press up until Rodney's hands come to hold him down, which makes John groan like he's being tortured and makes his dick throb harder.
Rodney doesn't commit any of the deadly sins of dick sucking. In fact, he takes John's dick in like he was made to do this, like he can't get enough. He knows all about swallowing around the head and about using his tongue. Which makes it all the hotter when Rodney goes all the way down and stays there before releasing John's hips.
John thrusts twice and comes, hands braced against the bed and Rodney's thigh. He can't seem to breathe in the aftermath, and his eyes itch like he's going to cry or something else equally embarrassing. Eventually he brokenly rasps out, "Rodney."
Rodney swallows a final time and looks up, eyes curiously soft. "Good?"
John shakes his head and pulls until Rodney sits up enough to kiss him.
After only a few seconds, Rodney breaks away from the kiss. "Sorry."
"Better," John says, and has to swallow and think about breathing and shiver though another spike of sensation before he can explain, "Better than good. I thought, y'know, that kind of blowjob was a myth. Everybody knows a guy who knows a guy who got one, but... Holy, fuck, Rodney. I hope enthusiasm turns you on. No way will I ever be that good."
Rodney lets out a little sigh when John says 'better'. It's relief. He touches John's cheek. "That it's you turns me on."
John's face turns into Rodney's palm, which is so girly that he has to counteract it by putting his hand back on Rodney's dick.
Rodney groans, letting his head fall against John's shoulder.
Rodney's neck is so conveniently presented that John doesn't even try to resist. He coaxes Rodney to kneel over his legs and strokes him firmly with one hand while the other grabs his ass to pull him closer and his lips work against the frantic pulse in Rodney's neck.
"Don't stop, please don't stop," Rodney begs.
"Won't," John promises, licking over Rodney's ear to kiss his panting mouth. "Won't stop, Rodney."
"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Rodney sobs. "So good."
John kisses him again and speeds his hand up. "You want me to...?" he asks, sliding the fingers of his other hand between Rodney's flexing buttocks.
Rodney shivers in his arms. "Please?"
Pressing carefully, John gets his middle finger to slip in to the first knuckle. "I'll fuck you, someday. If you want me to," he tells Rodney, murmuring directly into his ear.
The words set Rodney off and he comes hard, jerking in John's arms.
John supports him until he starts to calm, and then eases him down to the bed on his good side.
Letting go of Rodney causes him to protest, trying to sit up as he reaches for John.
John pushes him back flat and tries to follow him over, but his pants are trapped around his thighs. "Stay. I'll get undressed and join you," he says with a smile, and then scoots to the edge of the bed to fight off his remaining clothes.
"Gonna hold you to that," Rodney mutters, lying down.
Once naked, John moves back, rolling onto his right side before carefully settling his wrapped knee over Rodney's. "Don't mind being held to you."
"Cheesiest lines ever," Rodney says, snuggling into John and then sighing once he gets comfortable.
John says, "You like it," and kisses Rodney's shoulder.
"Probably," Rodney admits.
"We gonna sleep now?" John asks, and wonders when Rodney will realize his laptop fell on the floor and freak out.
"Ssh, tired now."
"Cold," John says, but the room starts to warm immediately, so he closes his eyes and thinks the lights out.
Rodney wakes to an extraordinary feeling of well being. It immediately makes him suspicious. Something bad is bound to happen. He remembers the night before and doesn't want to open his eyes.
John makes a muttering purring sound and rubs his hips against Rodney's side and his face against Rodney's arm.
He steels himself against the myriad of bad eventualities that his mind suggests to him and speaks. "Good morning."
"Mmrhmph," John replies and slides his hand down until he touches Rodney's dick. Then he smiles and adds, "R'dny."
Waking up with John is much better than waking up with any pet, Rodney decides and reaches out to touch John.
sirkate) and Mercutio (bard_mercutio).Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Words: About 8,400.
Summary: When the Ancient version of a pet is discovered, it naturally bonds with Rodney. It's not the only one.
Note: Index to the Stories. For the
sga_flashfic Animals Challenge. At first they didn't realize they'd found anything.
The team had been on a stand down for the last week while Ronon's leg knitted itself back together. There were bets on how long Carson could keep Ronon in the cast as well as how long it would be before Ronon simply broke the cast, started walking again, broken leg or no and forced Carson to eat the cast.
To keep busy-- and to keep Sheppard from climbing the walls-- they'd been investigating the city, with an eye to finding better living quarters. It wasn't that there was necessarily anything wrong with living in the equivalent of a closet, especially given that a room without windows was naturally more secure, but it would be nice not to have to share a bathroom.
The sculpture was in the living area of one of the rooms they'd been investigating. While Rodney had been poking around the set of rooms, looking for new tricks on the part of the Ancients, Teyla had noticed the sculpture of a dragon perched on a high ledge and called it to the others' attention.
That was when things started to go wrong.
"Ancient art," Rodney says scornfully. "Wonderful. Does it actually do anything?"
"Must art do something?" Teyla asks.
"I kinda like it," the colonel says, drawn into the discussion by Rodney's rather loud objection. He strokes the spine of the figure with his fingertip. Colored like the ocean, blue and green and gray, the dragon moves. "Holy shit." Sheppard backs up and takes hold of his gun.
"Huh," Rodney says, suddenly interested. He turns his scanner on it. "It's not alive."
"An automated response," Teyla suggests.
The sculpture turns its head, peering at her.
"More likely it's an Ancient device. Colonel Sheppard did touch it, after all," Rodney says, still absorbed in his scanner. "The real question is, what is meant to do?"
"And is it safe," Sheppard adds.
"Well, yes, that too, of course. That would be part of the whole 'what does it do' question."
The dragon looks at all three of them, then its wings, which had been couched at its sides, spread and unfold.
"It has wings!" Teyla says in surprise.
Rodney looks up. "That's... wow. Highly improbable."
"What, it having wings?" Sheppard asks. "Seems pretty probable to me."
That earns him an eyeroll. "The scanner is reading it as metal. It's not solid, but there are no organic components involved. I.e., I can't explain how that metal is moving and stretching without there being any change of temperature, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera that would explain how it's doing that."
"I wonder if it can move off of that ledge."
The dragon answers that question by gliding over to Rodney and perching himself on him. Or trying to perch itself on him. "Hey! What? Help! No touching, no touching!"
Teyla steps forward and tries to keep the creature from him, and the colonel asks, "You want me to shoot it?"
"No! It's too close. You'll shoot me." Rodney continues backing away, but the dragon doesn't take the hint. It ignores Teyla's attempts, avoiding her and swooping down on Rodney again.
"Hey, McKay, freeze," Sheppard orders.
Rodney does, reluctantly.
The dragon settles down for a landing on his shoulder, surprisingly light for being metal. Its long neck cranes around and the dragon looks at Rodney, then chirrups.
Rodney blinks. "Huh. It makes noises. I wonder why they didn't give it the capacity of speech. It would easily be within their capabilities."
"It's a pet, not a friend." The colonel walks over, cautiously extending a finger toward it.
"And how did you reach that conclusion, colonel?" Rodney watches jealously as Mr. Magic Gene reaches out to the dragon.
Which ignores him, instead chirruping again, then moving in closer to Rodney and stroking his head against his cheek.
Rodney looks, well, stunned. He reaches up to touch it and it rubs instead against his hand. "It's warm."
"It likes you," Teyla adds, smiling indulgently.
"At least we know it was endowed with good taste."
Rodney sniffs at the colonel's comment. "Given that this is the first we've found and all the other odds and ends the Ancients have left lying around, I have to wonder what its function is."
"It's a pet," Sheppard repeats. "It's just supposed to be company."
"Yes, because the Ancients were in the habit of making simple, easy-to-use devices intended for play and relaxation," Rodney says sarcastically. He hasn't stopped touching the dragon though.
"I didn't say it was for play and relaxation. Though wasn't it you who was talking about the mental benefits of cats last week?"
"Well what else are pets for?" Rodney snipes, but he stows his scanner away to take a firm hold on the dragon.
"Maybe it does little things. Like dogs can fetch the paper."
"Doubtful," Rodney says.
"Maybe it uses sonic rays to soothe headaches," Sheppard suggests, so straight faced Rodney knows he's teasing.
"That would at least be useful. I need to study it anyway, it's just as well that it's focused on me."
"All the Ancient tech loves you, Rodney."
Teyla asks, "Do you think it would permit someone without the ATA gene to touch it?"
Rodney rolls his eyes. "You already did, before Sheppard activated it."
"I think she means now that it's active, Rodney."
"Well, go ahead. It doesn't seem like it's going to move now that it's where it wants to be." Rodney turns to Teyla.
Teyla reaches out a cautious hand to the small creature. It doesn't pull away, nor does it lean into her as it does to Rodney. Her fingers pause near its face as she would with an animal, but it doesn't scent her or show any hesitation, and she strokes a line down it's slim body.
"It seems not to mind me," she says. "What type of creature is it modeled on? I am unfamiliar with such creatures, but you both seem to be familiar with its shape."
"A dragon," Rodney says. "Not that there is any such thing, but this fits the description, except they're supposed to be anywhere from the size of a car to the size of Atlantis and this one is tiny."
"A dragon? I thought they were said to be long, like a snake with short legs?" Teyla says.
"No, actually," John interjects, "there's all different kinds of dragons. Rodney's right about that part--"
"I'm always right," Rodney mutters.
"--and about its size. Although it reminds me of something I saw on a book cover once. Can't remember where though."
Rodney snaps his fingers. "Dragon books. McCaffrey. You're thinking of fire lizards."
John shrugs. "Maybe."
"Fire lizards?" Teyla asks. "Can it create flame, then?"
"Unlikely," Rodney answers, "but I would have said it couldn't fly either."
"Can it sing?" John asks absently, attention focused more on the way the wings are put together than on his words.
"For all I know, it could start talking at any time now," Rodney says, subconsciously clutching the dragon tighter as John and Teyla move in.
John backs up a step when the dragon starts to fidget. "Well, I guess you get to name it, then."
That puts a smile on Rodney's face. "Huh. I guess I do."
John smiles back. "To the lab-mobile?" he suggests.
"Sigma," Rodney says instead of agreeing. "That's its name. Sigma."
"Why sigma?" John asks.
He rolls his eyes at Sheppard. "Sigma Draconis? Ring a bell?"
John's smile gets away from him and turns into a huge doofy grin.
"Oh, shut up," Rodney says, and follows him back to Atlantis proper, with Teyla taking their rear.
It's late, and Rodney's the only one currently in the lab, having sent Miko on a coffee run. John slips in and says, "I like his name."
"His name?"
"Is it a 'her'?" John asks, coming over to lean against Rodney's bench. The dragon's wrapped around the back of Rodney's neck like a collar.
"It's a mechanical construct of a mythological animal. It doesn't have a gender."
"So you want us all to call it 'it'?"
Rodney reaches up, touching the tail that's wrapped around his throat. "I was commenting on the absurdity of assigning gender to an object. However, as I already know you've done it before, I suppose I can't stop you from calling Sigma a he."
"Sigma can be a she," John replies. "She's pretty colored."
"I prefer he, if you must use a gender," Rodney says stiffly. "At least then I feel confident you won't be trying cheap pickup lines like that on it."
John shrugs. "He looks like the ocean, when it's reflecting the sky. I like it." He smiles ruefully. "And I'm not trying to pick up your fire lizard, Rodney."
"Dragon," Rodney corrects. "And you were."
"Well, he does have that cute, blue-eyed thing going for him," John snarks.
Rodney glares at him automatically then frowns and looks away as John's words register fully. "Not funny, colonel."
"Funny?"
"Yes, you know, as in humor..." Rodney looks back up and sees something genuinely clueless in John's eyes. "Uh, nevermind. Unimportant. Don't you have something to do? Some minions to loom over?"
"I'm no longer on looming duty," John answers easily. "Did you eat? I can grab something from the mess and drop it off on my way past."
"No, I haven't eaten yet. I've been too busy trying to find any reference to Sigma in the Ancients' database. It doesn't help that I have no idea what they might have called it-- him."
"Try 'companion'?" John suggests. "I'll get food. Miko's coming with the coffee."
"Coffee," Rodney acknowledges, already keying in a new search.
John straightens and leaves the lab with one last look back. Sigma's head tilts up from Rodney's collarbone and the slitted eyes flash before closing again. Dragons. Neat.
Rodney grunts at Miko when she delivers his coffee. The coffee helps him think, but it also calms him down, which is useful, because Sheppard's suggestion has paid out. Not that a simple search on 'companion' did the trick, but it was enough to lead Rodney to find the right path to the answer.
It's not enough to help him deal with the implications of what he's found though and he's basically staring at the screen when John comes back with food.
Taking one look at Rodney's face, John sets the tray aside and moves up to Rodney's side. "What's up?"
"I found out what Sigma was designed for."
"Yeah?"
Rodney nods. "He's a... have you heard of therapy animals?"
"For traumatized people? Yeah. The had some at the VA I was shipped back to a while ago."
Rodney grimaces. "Yes. That's the idea. Only Sigma is slightly more advanced than that. He's designed to find the person most in need of him-- presumably with the Ancient gene-- and, well, I suppose you could say take care of them. Originally, he would have sent reports to their equivalent of Heightmeyer on the patient's well being. The Ancients apparently had no real concern for privacy."
"So, you're bothered that he picked you?" John asks, keeping his voice low.
"Hello? Yes, of course, I'm bothered. He picked me because I'm the most screwed up person in Atlantis."
"Rodney. You have two full-time jobs. You're completely responsible, at least in your own mind, for every civilian in Atlantis. And you're a soldier-- you go offworld and have to do and see and experience horrible situations, and stressful situations, and things you're not trained for. And you do both of these things every day, in spite of the fact that your great, big brain makes you horribly aware of all the many and sundry ways each situation could kill us all. I see nothing wrong with you having a need of some sort of mental support. If anybody on Atlantis deserves comfort, it's you."
Rodney stares at him, mouth open. "That's..." He shakes his head. "Put that way, it almost sounds reasonable."
John smiles a little. "There's a reason I never mind when you panic. It just means that you're dealing. It's when you don't react that I know something's wrong. All things considered, you're fairly well mentally balanced."
"Hah! I'm extremely well balanced mentally!" Sigma chooses that moment to nose Rodney's ear, nipping at his earlobe. Rodney bites his lip. "Am so." Sigma chirrups at him. "Stupid mind reading Ancient psychology pets," Rodney says, petting Sigma.
John reaches out to rub a calloused fingertip over Sigma's neck. "Good mind reading Ancient psychology pet."
The dragon rubs back for a moment before twining himself back around Rodney.
"It's ridiculous, you know," Rodney says suddenly, shifting uncomfortably. "I know he's not alive and that he's designed for specifically this purpose, but I keep feeling as though he likes me. Makes me feel better. Stupid really."
"He does like you. He's Atlantis," John insists, "and Atlantis likes people. She likes me, and she likes you."
That makes Rodney look more normal again, as he rolls his eyes at John's comment. "The city is not sentient and neither is Sigma. It's a matter of programming."
"Exactly. The programming likes you." John grins.
Rodney rolls his eyes again. "Yes, as though programming has feelings."
"AIs do."
"Sigma is not an AI."
"No. But he's not FreeCell, either."
"Yes, because I find FreeCell so comforting. Go away colonel and let me eat in peace."
John pats Rodney on the back. "Don't stay up too late," he orders and leaves Rodney to his research and Sigma.
Rodney stares wistfully after him for a long moment before Sigma nuzzling his cheek brings him back to himself and he begins to eat.
John walks into the lab a week later. Rodney's yelling at someone, as usual. Not as usual, Sigma's reared up on his shoulder with wings spread. "Whoa," John mutters, moving over to Zelenka's bench. "What's going on?"
"Usual," Zelenka says, shrugging. "Idiots come out to play and nearly break important systems. Rodney will explain their error to them in words they will understand."
"Sigma do that often?"
"No, never. That is odd," Zelenka admits.
John starts toward Rodney. Something seems wrong. Not just unusual, but seriously off, and it's making him twitchy.
"--going to be monitoring the sewage system until I'm absolutely certain that you're capable of understanding basic principles like cause and effect!" Rodney says loudly, hands moving fast. "At least down there, the feedback will be impossible to ignore. And you'll be suffering from the consequences of your own actions."
"Rodney?" John asks. It's the tone he uses to get a report from Rodney in the field.
It's when Rodney turns his head to look at the colonel that it happens. The disgruntled scientist who Rodney had been yelling at moves forward, fists raising-- and Sigma launches himself off of Rodney's shoulder, wings flapping in the man's face, wedge shaped head darting in close.
"Shit!" John says, and puts himself between Sigma and the scientist. It's not the wisest move, but as much as he'd like to deck the man himself, it's his job to protect all the scientists. "Back. Get out, get out," he insists, shoving the startled scientist toward the door and the marines gathered there, alerted by the yelling. "Take him to his room," he orders them, trying to keep Sigma from following. And from scratching the hell out of John's hands and face. He calls for Rodney to help only after the other scientist has been hustled away.
Sigma returns to Rodney once the door closes behind the other scientist and settles in his accustomed perch on Rodney's shoulders, but sitting up, forefoot resting in Rodney's hair.
"Are you all right?" Rodney asks John.
John replies, "My hair will never be the same." There are a few throbbing spots on his hands, face, and neck, but Sigma doesn't seem to have broken the skin. A very talented companion. "Come to the balcony with me. I think we should discuss this."
Rodney nods and follows John. His hand shakes as he reaches up to touch Sigma.
Once they're on a secluded balcony, John watches Rodney step forward to lean on the rail. He settles his hands firmly on Rodney's hunched shoulders and starts rubbing firmly.
Rodney startles, but interestingly, Sigma doesn't. "What-- why are you-- doing that?"
"Relax. You need it."
He trembles a little under John's hands. "I'm fine. Surprised that moron tried to attack me, but fine."
"He won't get another chance," John promises. He chuckles. "Not that he'll try. Within the hour, everyone will know about your guardian dragon."
"Yes, I'd read about that, but I hadn't expected to actually encounter that function in use, not on Atlantis. Of course, history proves that danger can occur here as well, but..." Rodney trails off, shaking his head.
"Scoot, Sigma," John says, and when the dragon lifts up, his hands move to Rodney's neck. "You should maybe have mentioned this to me. Since I am the military commander, and Sigma can act as a weapon. A defensive weapon."
"It didn't seem important, since I'd thought I'd be leaving Sigma on Atlantis for missions. And I hadn't envisioned him actually attacking anyone. The database implied that he'd react negatively toward people who threatened me, but it didn't explicitly say he would attack anyone."
"It's pretty cool, though." Rodney's head has fallen forward and the tension in his shoulders has relaxed a bit. It's kind of awkward, since Sigma won't actually move out of the way.
"Yes. I suppose the discrepancy is due to differing expectations. Given what Sigma can do, the Ancients could have used him and others like him as a diagnostic tool to identify people in need of psychiatric care. If those people were then taken off duty or their duties scaled back, it would remove them from areas where attack-type behaviors would be necessary."
"And then if they were forced into such situations, the protection offered by Sigma Dragons would reduce the stress on the person. It's a fairly good plan." John's hands settle on Rodney's shoulders. "Speaking of stress, how're you doing?"
"Fine, fine," Rodney says. "We're not being attacked and, aside from Ronon, everyone's healthy. It's practically summer vacation."
"We're in a creepy galaxy of space vampires and stupid people with PhDs that make them think they're brilliant instead of just booksmart. There's plenty to be stressed about."
"Yes, thank you for reminding me." Rodney sighs and straightens up, turning around to face the colonel. "I actually do feel a little better with Sigma here. I think he is helping. It's not quite like having my cat-- I keep remembering that Sigma doesn't have feelings and doesn't like me for his own reasons-- but it does help."
"Yeah, but I like you. Much better than having a small dragon who can't do math like you."
"Yes, well," Rodney flips his hand dismissively, "you don't curl yourself up and fall asleep on my stomach." His hand moves down, unconsciously stroking that area of his anatomy. "It's nice having something warm nestling into you like that."
John's shrug is a little stiff. "Dunno. I never had a pet."
"That's very sad, colonel." Rodney seems to genuinely mean it.
"We moved a lot. I tried fish for a while, but fish-- kinda suck as pets." He looks over the water for a moment. "It wouldn't've been good for a pet to move that often, anyway."
"I'm sorry," Rodney says, touching his arm.
John grins carelessly. "S'okay. I bet Teyla never had a pet either. C'mon, time to get back to work. E-mail me the report on that scientist, and your recommendation. No rush, he's definitely confined to quarters for at least the next couple days."
Rodney drops his hand, backing away. Sigma rubs his head against Rodney's cheek in a gesture of comfort, even as Rodney says, "Yes, yes, of course. Not that I was worried about him and I-- work, yes." He circles around John, heading back inside.
John catches Rodney's elbow as he passes. "Hey, I... thanks. For," he frowns, clearly uncomfortable, "y'know, um. The pet thing."
He gets a quickly muttered 'you're welcome' before Rodney pulls away.
"If you find another one, do you think I could--" John breaks off and rubs his hand over his face. "No, I probably can't. It'd freak my marines out."
That brings Rodney back to him. "Colonel-- John, you realize... I might be able to find more, but given the way they work, there's no guarantee that it would choose you. You may even be the least likely choice. Although I can't do anything about the Marines." He runs his hand through his hair. "If you're concerned about the Marines, then I suppose--" Rodney sighs. "Forget it, stupid thought."
"Hey! Hang out with me this week sometime. Maybe I can convince Sigma to share the love."
"Sure, let me know when," Rodney says while walking away. He disappears inside.
The email that comes in reply to Rodney's report is short.
'Busy tonight? Or the day after tomorrow? I've got a night shift tomorrow.'
Rodney's reply is equally brief.
'I can make time either day.'
'Tonight, then. I'll swing by and get you for dinner. Two hours.'
Rodney's ready when John comes to get him, shutting down the computer with every appearance of eagerness to be gone.
They eat quickly and retire to Rodney's room to sprawl around watching DVDs. John doesn't make any attempt to get at Sigma, but stays close to the side of Rodney opposite Sigma's head.
Halfway through the movie, the dragon uncurls from McKay's shoulders and walks down, across his chest, to lie on his stomach. He curls up again, giving every appearance of falling asleep.
Rodney shifts a little, not enough to disturb the dragon, so that he can pet Sigma.
John's watching the screen and not paying much attention to his actions. His temple is resting lightly against Rodney's shoulder and his hand, resting on his own leg, is only a few inches from Sigma. He makes no effort to touch the dragon.
Yawning as though Sigma's actions were contagious, Rodney shifts again, this time moving his free arm up, hand going behind his head. The bed dips slightly and, as Sheppard is on that side, he gets rolled a little more into Rodney.
Muttering irritably, John settles his head more firmly on Rodney's shoulder. "Stop moving. I'm tryin' to relax here."
"Trying to get comfortable here."
John heaves a put upon sign and slides down to rest his head against Rodney's ribs instead. Sigma sits up a bit, blocking his view. "Down in front, Sigma," he orders.
Sigma stretches out to his full length, then moves, settling between them.
John unconsciously snuggles his head into Rodney's side.
It's only a few minutes later before Rodney's hand is in John's hair, petting him with long, soothing strokes.
"Mmm," John sleepily agrees. The DVD is one they've watched a dozen times before, and he's tired. And it's Rodney, so he closes his eyes and dozes off.
Rodney could use the sleep, but he likes this better, because John is better than Sigma, better even than his cat. John curling up to sleep on him means a whole lot more to him than either of the others sleeping on him. So he stays awake until the DVD is all the way over, enjoying the feeling.
Rodney says something, John can feel the movement against his cheek, can sort of hear him. But it's not in one of the many Rodney tones that requires actual listening, so John breathes deeply in and then out and doesn't move or think.
Waking up with John plastered to him is infinitely superior to having the dragon (or even a cat) sleeping on him come morning. A cat can be mistaken for something else or not even noticed when he wakes up. But Rodney can't possibly miss John lying against him. Fortunately, he doesn't have to.
John's still asleep, though his head has migrated from near Rodney's hip to his upper arm. He looks calm, but the lines on his forehead and at the corners of his eyes don't vanish completely, even in sleep. His eyes move behind closed lids. His hand on Rodney's stomach twitches slightly.
Rodney decides to risk waking John up and brings the arm that John isn't sleeping on up to run through his hair.
John's eyes open and focus on Rodney immediately, and his body tenses for a moment before subsiding. "Hey," he says. "Morning."
He freezes for a moment, regretting having woken John, then sighs. There are other things to do. More important things even on the world-saving scale. Rodney keeps stroking John's hair. "Hi. Guess we fell asleep."
"S'okay. Not like we haven't shared close quarters before," John replies, sitting up and stretching until his back crackles. "You sleep alright? Sorry if I crowded you. It was good to hang out again."
"And welcome back to the wonderful world of denial. Yes, I slept fine. I mentioned the whole cat thing, didn't I?"
"Denial?"
Rodney waves the hand that feels empty without John's hair under it. "Nothing ever happened, nothing ever will happen and if it does, it will be immediately forgotten."
John's face wrinkles up in total confusion, like it does when Rodney goes too far into a physics problem. "What are you talking about?" he asks, but not like he doesn't believe Rodney.
"Obviously nothing, colonel," Rodney says and gets out of bed.
"Rodney!" John says. "What?"
Rodney has his back to John now. It makes things easier. "You're better than a cat."
"Yeah?" John asks, flattered in spite of the possibly negative implications of the statement. Rodney loves cats. He smiles. "I'm glad."
"Yes," Rodney says, resigned. John isn't going to get it, isn't going to understand what he's really saying, but Rodney's not going to say more to the hot, clueless straight military guy.
"So... are we cool?"
"Of course."
"You wanna do this again tomorrow?"
That makes Rodney turn back around, smiling. "Yeah? That'd be great."
"You want me to raid the lending library for whatever's in before I come over?" John asks, standing up and starting to straighten his clothes.
"As long as you get something appropriate and not something with improbable science or littered with women crying, fine."
"I'll bring it all. I'm the commander, I can steal all the movies for one night." John looks at Rodney and then looks around. "Where's your dragon?"
Rodney frowns. "I don't know."
John looks around, frowning. "This is weird. Maybe under the bed?"
Rodney looks under the bed, then shakes out the covers. Sigma's nowhere to be seen.
John picks up his radio from the desk. "D'you want me to have my guys look for him?"
Still frowning, Rodney shakes his head. "I have a theory. And if I'm right, that would be both unnecessary and embarrassing."
"What's the theory?"
Rodney wraps his arms around his chest before lifting his chin and saying, "Sigma was designed to go to the person who needed him the most. If he's not here, then the most likely conclusion is that he's with another gene carrier."
John frowns. "There's no bonding mechanism? Because that's pretty stupid." He puts his hand on Rodney's arm just above the elbow and squeezes lightly. "I mean, it's not logical to assume that just because someone is suddenly worse off means that the person he was with didn't still need him."
Rodney shrugs, not meeting John's eyes. "We don't know what precise criteria were programmed into Sigma. Perhaps when his patient found another source of emotional support--" He breaks off abruptly. "No, you're right. Not logical at all."
John asks, "So. You can maybe trust me with that?"
He doesn't say anything and he's still hugging himself.
"Hey," John says gently. "Hey, no. Rodney." His arms close around Rodney, pulling his tense friend close and hugging him tightly. "It'll be all right. We can reprogram Sigma or something."
"Yes, because taking him away from the traumatized individual he's ended up with is a good idea." Rodney sighs and leans just a tiny bit into John.
"Maybe it's someone who's leaving soon," John suggests. "Or someone who's just feeling massively overwhelmed today."
"Thank you for that note of comfort." Rodney doesn't pull away. "However, that's hardly likely. No doubt, he decided that I have emotional support, which, yes, you're quite good at when you choose to bother, but doesn't do anything for me when I've managed to disappoint you again or you're having man PMS or whatever you want to call it when--. And let's not even mention that I've been rejected. Again."
"Okay, first off? You are not allowed to ever say PMS in reference to me again. Second, I'll be here, even if I'm disappointed. You're still here, even when I suck things up. And who rejected you? I'll go kick her ass. By which I mean, I'll have Teyla kick her ass."
That makes Rodney snort. "If you do, you have to have it taped. A Teyla/Samantha Carter smackdown would make my permanent play list."
"She rejected you recently? I already knew she was nowhere near as smart as you think she is, but I thought she'd've learned by now."
"Other way around really." Rodney sighs. John's stroking his back. It feels nice. Especially since any minute now John's going to remember that he's a man and men don't do this. "It's fine. At least this time I'm being rejected for not being screwed up enough. It's a novelty."
"Oh, Sigma. He's not rejecting you, Rodney. He's a badly programmed toaster." He rubs his fingers against the tensed muscles in Rodney's neck.
"Rejected by a toaster. The high point of my day."
"It's not rejection. You're the one who keeps insisting he has no emotional awareness. He can't reject you if he has no self-awareness."
"Well, obviously," Rodney grumbles, "but we're talking about emotion, which has very little to do with rational thinking."
"Oh," John replies, leaning back so he can see Rodney. "But, hey, at least you still have me."
Rodney mutters something in reply that sounds a lot like, "I fish."
"You fish?"
"No!" Rodney says indignantly.
"I'll take you fishing on the mainland," John teases.
"No, thank you," Rodney says, finally pulling back from John.
John lets him go with a final pat. "Yeah, well. I hate fishing. But if you change your mind..."
"Man PMS," Rodney mutters.
"I told you--" John's radio squawks at him. "Crap, be right there. I'm late for a meeting," he tells Rodney. "See you tomorrow night, about 19:30 hours."
Rodney nods. "See you then, assuming nothing is blowing up."
"You'll be the second to know," John replies, and jogs off down the hall.
When he goes into the lab, he finds out who Sigma has transferred his affections to-- Miko Kusangai. She spends the first half hour of the day profusely apologizing to him. He doesn't yell at her-- he doesn't have the heart.
John manages to email him a couple of times, but they don't really communicate until the next afternoon, when John radios him. "We still on for tonight?"
He gets a curt "Yes," in reply, followed a few seconds later by, "if someone doesn't save me from these morons, they're going to need an armed guard to save them from me."
"I'll see what I can do," John replies. A few moments later, there's an official request for Rodney's help in the control room.
Rodney goes, grumbling the whole way.
When he arrives he finds coffee and sort-of-donuts, and a nice technical problem that lets him work completely alone while still providing the opportunity to bitch at the DHD monkey of the moment. Chuck's on night shifts this week.
John smiles at him and pats his shoulder in passing.
"Marginally better," Rodney comments, only incidentally at John.
John disappears shortly thereafter. He is still on duty, after all, and has work to finish before he and Rodney meet for movie night.
As soon as the DHD repair is done, Rodney vanishes into his quarters. He can do the rest of his work from his laptop. It's that or go back to the labs armed.
John radios him at 18:00. "Do you mind if I show up early?" he asks. "I'll bring dinner and we can both escape the crowd."
"Early is good. Dinner is better."
"Tonight's yak-thing or Triharan salad with chicken. Which?"
"Chicken. The yak-thing gives me gas."
"Yeah. Let's avoid that. See you in an hour." There's some upset nattering in the background, sounding suspiciously Scottish. "Gotta go."
Rodney's too distracted to notice. "Fine, fine. An hour."
When John shows up, it's with an escort. Teyla delivers the food, deftly clearing space on Rodney's desk as John hobbles over to take a seat in the empty chair after tossing a bunch of DVDs on the bed.
"I wish you a pleasant evening. Rodney, John," Teyla says, smiling her cat-that-ate-the-canary smile before leaving.
"Huh," John grunts. "She seemed pretty pleased about something." He shakes his head and turns to his meal
"What happened to you?" Rodney asks as he takes custody of his own dinner.
"Zigged when I should've zagged," John replies. When Rodney scoffs, he expands on his answer. "One of the new guys was training with me. He screwed up a throw, and it was a choice between him breaking his own arm and me taking a rough fall. I took the fall, but I fell wrong somehow. Might've had to do with the wall right there. Managed to bruise my whole left side up and strain the knee trying to catch myself."
"Hero complex."
"How is that a hero complex?"
"You saved him from injury by getting injured yourself. Typical."
John shrugs and pokes his salad. "Strangely enough, I don't really enjoy hurting people."
"But you do enjoy hurting yourself?" Rodney asks, steadily demolishing his food.
John rolls his eyes and doesn't answer, turning his attention to his food.
"...and then Radek starting cooing over Sigma-- who now has an unpronounceable Japanese name that means wind or summer or something random. I mean, Zelenka. He's the only hope for Atlantis should something happen to me and he was just as twitterpated as Miko. It's really unfair that Elizabeth won't let non-military personnel go armed when not on missions."
"You can't shoot your staff, Rodney. We need them to carry out your evil commands."
"Hah. My commands are not evil. If I were evil, I'd already have taken over."
"Nah. Too much work. You don't want to be in charge of the diplomats or the military."
"I'd delegate," Rodney says, waving his fork at John. "You can keep the military, Teyla can have the diplomats and the non-scientists can go learn to farm on the mainland and do something useful for a change."
"You want the military cooking your meals and doing your laundry?" John asks skeptically.
"No, no, not those non-scientists. The anthro-whatsits and the people arguing about the use of the nominative tense in Satedan."
John laughs. "My mistake," he says, stealing a 'crouton' from Rodney's salad.
Rodney kindly doesn't stab him with his fork.
John pushes the last of his salad toward Rodney a few minutes later and carefully sprawls back in the chair.
"You can go lie down, you know. If that's more comfortable," Rodney says as he finishes off John's salad.
"Your mattress is like a rock. It's only more comfortable when there's you as padding."
Rodney flushes. "Yes, well, you're welcome."
"I'll wait. Thanks, though."
"I'm almost done."
"No rush. Beckett forced drugs on me, and they're kicking in."
Rodney blinks at him. "You must have hit your head too. You don't usually let Carson slip you the good stuff."
"He said he'd restrain me to the bed for my own good. I wanted to come watch movies."
Pushing his plate back, Rodney turns to John. "Are you going to need help to get to the bed?"
"Nope. I'm mobile, just very hobble-y."
"Are you sure?" Rodney's standing now, between John and the bed, hands fluttering.
"Sit down, Rodney," John says, smiling at him.
Still looking worried, Rodney takes a seat on the bed.
John rolls the chair over with a push of his right foot and then transfers over to sit next to Rodney, though without leaning against him. He asks, "Pick a movie and set up?"
Rodney grabs the stack of movies, mutters over them for a few minutes then chooses one to put in his laptop. "Not too bad."
"Glad you approve," John says, settling with his weight braced against Rodney's side.
"Feel free to take shameless advantage of my personal space," Rodney says and tilts the computer so John can see it as well.
"Oh. Sorry," John says and sits up a bit.
Rodney rolls his eyes. "That was an invitation, you idiot."
"Oh, good," John replies and settles back against Rodney. "You're warm. Keeps me from getting stiff."
"Should you be here?" Rodney asks suspiciously. "If you're that injured?"
John rolls his eyes. "I'm bruised and battered, not critical. Jeez, anybody'd think you don't want me here."
"Ah. No. I... I'm simply concerned for the health of a friend. That's all." Rodney stares at the computer screen.
"I'm fine, Rodney. And I want to be here."
"Good," is all Rodney permits himself to say.
The movie's half through when John tilts his head up to say something to Rodney. He's feeling no pain, feeling warm and relaxed and happy in a way he doesn't really remember being in a long time. Rodney smiles at him and it's a sweet, crooked smile.
John blinks rapidly. "Oh. Oh! I, uh, I totally had no idea," he says apologetically. "It just-- I didn't think."
Rodney frowns at him. "What?"
Frowning, John replies, "The me-you thing."
The frown is replaced by a blush. "There is no me-you thing. Not that I wouldn't l-- No, no me-you thing."
"There is, I just didn't know it was that kind of me-you thing. I, well. Probably 'cause you're a man. And so smart." John studies Rodney's face, seeing familiar expressions but understanding them differently now.
"I-- you--" Rodney licks his lips. "Look-- I-- I can't do anything about the man thing or the smart thing. If that's why it hasn't been that kind of me-you thing."
"Just why I didn't think of it," John replies. "B'cause I'm a man, and they're usually normal-smart. Not you-smart."
"That makes absolutely no sense, you realize," Rodney says and licks his lips again before gathering his non-existent courage and leaning in to kiss John.
John's reply is the way his lips press against Rodney's as if evaluating. They rub lightly together; soft, barely wet kisses with no tongue and no thought and more trust than passion.
"I can't believe this is really happening," Rodney whispers, then moves in for more. He uses his free hand to gently touch John's side.
John puts his hand over Rodney's, pressing the broad palm and spread fingers against his ribs. His hand trails up Rodney's arm, over his shoulder and neck and into his hair to change the angle a tiny bit. His mouth opens under Rodney's.
This is the best thing that's ever happened to Rodney. Better even than stepping through the Stargate. Maybe better than a Nobel. Maybe. He takes advantage of John's open lips.
Rodney tastes like tangy salad dressing. John smiles into the kiss.
"This is... wow. Yes. Do you want... what can we do? Kissing's all right, obviously, but I'd really like to touch you and, yes, definitely more than that if you do."
John rubs his nose against Rodney's jaw. "Mmm. I really have no idea. Never done this, the me-you-guy-thing, before."
"Never?" Rodney stares at him. "You... you're doing this for me? Oh. That is so hot."
John laughs, low and dirty. "You have a virgin kink? That is so you."
"No, not a virgin kink," Rodney says, rolling his eyes. "But you turned gay for me. Do you have any idea what that does for my ego?"
"Is it anything like it does for your dick? Because that's getting bigger," John says, eyes dropping to Rodney's lap.
"It's hot," Rodney repeats. "I told you that. Where did you leave your brain anyway?"
John's eyes track back up to Rodney's face, and he swallows hard before asking, "You know you have really really broad shoulders, right?"
Rodney's gaze sharpens. "Are you tracking at all?" He snaps his fingers in front of John's face. John blinks slowly at him. "You're not," he says flatly. "You're half-asleep. Carson gave you something."
"You already knew that. It doesn't change the fact that you have really broad shoulders, and you kiss really well." John leans in a bit to confide, "I keep thinking of this cheerleader I screwed on spring break, and how her legs kept slipping off my shoulders. And I bet my legs wouldn't ever slip off yours."
"This is-- that is-- that would be so incredibly hot if I wasn't sure that you're going to regret this tomorrow and shun me for months because of this." Rodney sighs. "You need to sleep this off, colonel."
"I'm really not that out of it. And don't call me colonel. It's not nice when I want to kiss you. Makes me feel like I'm taking advantage of you or something."
"You're out of it enough that I'd be the one taking advantage of you. Not that I'd have a problem with that except that I actually want you speaking to me tomorrow."
"If it's good enough, I'll be all slutty in the morning," John confides.
"You can't tell me things like that!" Rodney says, trying to get out from under John with as little touching as possible.
"Can you give blowjobs? Will you? Can I have a blowjob and then maybe some pseudofucking?" John grins wickedly.
Rodney wants to promise John everything. For John, anything. Instead, he gets out of the bed. "You can spend the night here. I-- I can get some work done instead."
John's jaw drops, and he just stares at Rodney.
"Unless you need Carson. I-- he's-- He can be discreet."
"You don't..." John straightens. "Oh, fuck. Jesus. Yeah, I'm-- I'm sorry. I'll just go." He turns and starts using the wall to pull himself to his feet.
"No, John," Rodney says, mouth twisting with distress. "I do. I want to." He takes two quick steps until he's hovering by John. He hesitates for a moment, then reaches for John, trying to steady him. "I'm trying to be noble here, not turn you down."
"You're Rodney! Noble is for life-and-death situations only! The rest of the time you're too smart to be noble."
Rodney laughs harshly as he assists John back to the bed. "I'm too much of a coward to be noble. Noble is for impressing you."
"You don't have to try to do that, Rodney. I'm already impressed with you," John says, resisting Rodney's attempts to push him down. "I'm leaving unless you're coming to bed with me, McKay."
"Fine." Rodney sits down at the foot of the bed.
"Take off your pants."
Rodney crosses his arms. "This is a very bad idea."
John takes off his shirt. "No, it's not."
Rodney immediately focuses on the bared skin, unable to look away. "It's... uh. Yes."
John sits down and stretches his legs out on the bed. "Take off your pants," he repeats.
Rodney's hands go to his waist.
John draws his lower lip between his teeth and watches, eyes focused totally on Rodney's hands.
Rodney doesn't look away from John as he unfastens his pants. "This is totally not worth it if you won't even look at me tomorrow."
"I'm going to wrap my hand around your dick and jerk you off tomorrow. I'm gonna look in your face when I do it."
The sudden rush of heat catches him by surprise. Rodney groans and clutches at his groin. "You can't say things like that, or this is all going to be over before you can touch me."
"Then you can touch me until you're ready to be touched again," John replies, and rubs his hand over the front of his pants. His breath catches as he rubs circles over the head of his dick.
"That's so sexy," Rodney says. "We're doing this, aren't we? We're going to do this."
"Oh, yeah."
Rodney quickly strips off his pants and shirt.
John's eyes are wide and dark and his breathing ragged. "Rodney," he whispers. "Oh, fuck."
"It's okay?" Rodney asks, eyes uncertain. "You aren't... uh."
"I'm so, so..." John says, and fumbles his fly open so he can put his hand in his underwear.
"Can I... I want to touch."
John nods jerkily. "Touch, please. Yeah, fuck, Rodney!"
Rodney tentatively places his hand on John's chest, then, when John doesn't protest, takes a deep breath and leans forward. He tugs John's hand away from his pants and helps John pull them down enough to expose his groin.
Spreading his thighs as much as he can, John takes Rodney's hand in his and wraps it around his dick. "Oh, fuck," he repeats. "Oh, Jesus," and his hand settles on Rodney's thigh. "I wanna touch you."
Rodney doesn't answer, bending down to lick at John's dick.
John's hand closes tightly on Rodney's leg, and he makes a pathetic moaning sound.
Rodney takes that as approval and takes John's dick in his mouth, letting his tongue wrap around it before taking it all the way in.
After a few seconds, John regains enough coordination to get his hand around Rodney's dick and start mindlessly stroking. His hips press up until Rodney's hands come to hold him down, which makes John groan like he's being tortured and makes his dick throb harder.
Rodney doesn't commit any of the deadly sins of dick sucking. In fact, he takes John's dick in like he was made to do this, like he can't get enough. He knows all about swallowing around the head and about using his tongue. Which makes it all the hotter when Rodney goes all the way down and stays there before releasing John's hips.
John thrusts twice and comes, hands braced against the bed and Rodney's thigh. He can't seem to breathe in the aftermath, and his eyes itch like he's going to cry or something else equally embarrassing. Eventually he brokenly rasps out, "Rodney."
Rodney swallows a final time and looks up, eyes curiously soft. "Good?"
John shakes his head and pulls until Rodney sits up enough to kiss him.
After only a few seconds, Rodney breaks away from the kiss. "Sorry."
"Better," John says, and has to swallow and think about breathing and shiver though another spike of sensation before he can explain, "Better than good. I thought, y'know, that kind of blowjob was a myth. Everybody knows a guy who knows a guy who got one, but... Holy, fuck, Rodney. I hope enthusiasm turns you on. No way will I ever be that good."
Rodney lets out a little sigh when John says 'better'. It's relief. He touches John's cheek. "That it's you turns me on."
John's face turns into Rodney's palm, which is so girly that he has to counteract it by putting his hand back on Rodney's dick.
Rodney groans, letting his head fall against John's shoulder.
Rodney's neck is so conveniently presented that John doesn't even try to resist. He coaxes Rodney to kneel over his legs and strokes him firmly with one hand while the other grabs his ass to pull him closer and his lips work against the frantic pulse in Rodney's neck.
"Don't stop, please don't stop," Rodney begs.
"Won't," John promises, licking over Rodney's ear to kiss his panting mouth. "Won't stop, Rodney."
"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Rodney sobs. "So good."
John kisses him again and speeds his hand up. "You want me to...?" he asks, sliding the fingers of his other hand between Rodney's flexing buttocks.
Rodney shivers in his arms. "Please?"
Pressing carefully, John gets his middle finger to slip in to the first knuckle. "I'll fuck you, someday. If you want me to," he tells Rodney, murmuring directly into his ear.
The words set Rodney off and he comes hard, jerking in John's arms.
John supports him until he starts to calm, and then eases him down to the bed on his good side.
Letting go of Rodney causes him to protest, trying to sit up as he reaches for John.
John pushes him back flat and tries to follow him over, but his pants are trapped around his thighs. "Stay. I'll get undressed and join you," he says with a smile, and then scoots to the edge of the bed to fight off his remaining clothes.
"Gonna hold you to that," Rodney mutters, lying down.
Once naked, John moves back, rolling onto his right side before carefully settling his wrapped knee over Rodney's. "Don't mind being held to you."
"Cheesiest lines ever," Rodney says, snuggling into John and then sighing once he gets comfortable.
John says, "You like it," and kisses Rodney's shoulder.
"Probably," Rodney admits.
"We gonna sleep now?" John asks, and wonders when Rodney will realize his laptop fell on the floor and freak out.
"Ssh, tired now."
"Cold," John says, but the room starts to warm immediately, so he closes his eyes and thinks the lights out.
Rodney wakes to an extraordinary feeling of well being. It immediately makes him suspicious. Something bad is bound to happen. He remembers the night before and doesn't want to open his eyes.
John makes a muttering purring sound and rubs his hips against Rodney's side and his face against Rodney's arm.
He steels himself against the myriad of bad eventualities that his mind suggests to him and speaks. "Good morning."
"Mmrhmph," John replies and slides his hand down until he touches Rodney's dick. Then he smiles and adds, "R'dny."
Waking up with John is much better than waking up with any pet, Rodney decides and reaches out to touch John.
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(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-07 06:14 am (UTC)The sex? Was hot :D. I particularly liked the descriptions of Rodney's blowing technique and John's inquisitive fingers.
This feels like a complete story, so bravo! I'm certainly satisfied :).
(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-16 05:18 pm (UTC)Yay for hot sex. There should *be* more hot sex in the world, seriously.
So, question. As this is our first flashfic-- are they not supposed to be complete stories? Either way, I'm glad it satisfied.
(no subject)
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Date: 2007-04-07 08:20 am (UTC)lovely fic, nice execution -- I enjoyed it.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-16 05:21 pm (UTC)Yay, glad you liked it!
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Date: 2007-04-08 04:35 am (UTC)Loved.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-16 05:32 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-08 05:08 am (UTC)More words in my journal rec. Top entry. *G*
(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-16 05:37 pm (UTC)So. I'm uberglad you liked our story. :)
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Date: 2007-04-08 05:33 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-16 05:38 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-08 05:34 am (UTC)Adorable and heartwarming and hot. Perfect.
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Date: 2007-04-08 07:07 am (UTC)I love them both stumbling against each other before they realise their feelings and act on it. I like the idea of a pet for Rodney. And best of all, I love it that they were good friends before lovers.
Thanks for sharing :D
(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-16 05:44 pm (UTC)You're welcome. Thanks for commenting. :)
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Date: 2007-04-08 12:35 pm (UTC)This was really nice - the whole way through it's clear that they're actually good for each other, even before the dragon makes it obvious to them.
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Date: 2007-04-08 05:52 pm (UTC)"Feel free to take shameless advantage of my personal space," Rodney says and tilts the computer so John can see it as well.
Rodney rolls his eyes. "That was an invitation, you idiot."
"Oh, good," John replies and settles back against Rodney. "You're warm. Keeps me from getting stiff."
There even is an extra line break, but it never said John had leaned away.
The fic was Guh-hot. It made my morning so much better. I loved the mushy feeling you've created between those two, and the warm comfort in the snuggling scenes. The pet dragon was pretty cool, too, and seemed very beautiful. Thank you for this.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-16 05:55 pm (UTC)Guh-hot? Rock on! I'm a fan of hotness, and of mushy, and so I'm quite glad you found those in the fic. Also, snuggling rocks. *G* Thank you for commenting and for pointing that missing line out.