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sga_flashficTitle: Five Times McKay and Sheppard Arrived Back In Atlantis Without Their Clothes (And One Time They Nearly Had To Leave Without Them)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jadesfire2808
Words: ~6,330
Rating: PG
Spoilers/Warnings: None (skips about between different seasons)/er…naked!Genfic? (Yes, it's possible) Does that need a warning?
Notes: With huge thanks to First Readers, and particularlybironic and crystalshard for the speediest beta-services known to fanfic writer.
Summary: Does exactly what it says in the title
Five Times McKay and Sheppard Arrived Back In Atlantis Without Their Clothes (And One Time They Nearly Had To Leave Without Them)
Animal
"Just stop struggling."
That was, of course, easy for Sheppard to say. He wasn't the one about to die a painfully and excruciatingly embarrassing death. Rodney had no objections to dying for a cause, in principle at least (although living for a cause was probably preferable), but this was ridiculous.
"Rodney, stay still." Sheppard was perched on the rock above him, his face upside down from Rodney's point of view. Even inverted, the smirk was maddening. "Maybe they'll just lose interest."
"Oh yes, thank you, Colonel Tarzan. Have a lot of experience of wild…animals…do you?"
Shifting, apparently to make himself more comfortable which was completely unfair when Rodney was trapped with a rock sticking into his back, his legs twisted awkwardly and these…things…crawling all over him, Sheppard shrugged. "My dad bought my brother a puppy when I was nine."
"They are not puppies!" Rodney yelled, immediately regretting it as the critters climbing over his chest and arms flinched and clung on tighter. Gritting his teeth, he took a few deep breaths, then glared up at Sheppard. "Are you just going to sit there, or are you going to help me?"
"Well, Harinda and the others did say that the Yani have got poisonous bites, so I'm thinking I might just stay here and try not to upset the little guys."
"Little and deadly," Rodney shot back, trying not to upset the, oh alright, puppy-like creatures still making themselves comfortable all over him. One day, when Sheppard suggested a short, exploratory stroll, he was just going to say no, no matter how boring the technologically ignorant village was. If only because Sheppard's idea of a stroll usually translated to a five-mile hike through hostile territory.
Rodney whimpered a little as one of the Yani got all adventurous and started licking at his neck. "Sheppard!"
"Yeah. Kinda busy here." There was a strained quality to Sheppard's voice, and Rodney dared to look up for long enough to see the other man outlined against the sky, his shoulders oddly stiff and his neck bent at a weird angle.
As his eyes adjusted to the brightness, Rodney made out a little puppy-sized object clinging to the arm of Sheppard's shirt. Perfect.
"Next time," Rodney said, letting his head thud back against the rocks, "I'm bringing Ronon."
"Yeah. Damnit."
"What?"
"There's a couple on my pants too."
"Wonderful." Lifting his head again, Rodney tried to count the little so-and-so's crawling over his body. "Well I've got twelve down here. You?"
"Four and counting. Huh."
That was Sheppard's I think I have an idea voice, and as much as it usually made Rodney's heart sink, being covered in tiny, poisonous puppies wasn't doing much for his own ability to formulate plans. "What?"
"They're not going for my arms, just my shirt."
Rodney tilted his head back again, squinting up at Sheppard. It was true that while there was a Yani hanging off each of his shirt sleeves, Sheppard's bare arms seemed to be untouched.
"Brilliant observation," Rodney said, trying to glare at Sheppard, who was blatantly ignoring him. "Which is of use to us how exactly?"
"They like our clothes." Sheppard was already reaching down carefully to unclip his gun, laying it on the rock beside him. "So…"
"So?" Then Rodney saw that Sheppard was starting to undo the buttons of his shirt. "Oh, you are not serious."
"If you've got a better idea, now's the time."
Rodney almost certainly would have, except he was covered in tiny puppies who could kill him with a single bite, and really, how was he meant to think like this? When he looked up again, Sheppard was carefully pulling his shirt off, one Yani still attached to the sleeve, another having latched onto his t-shirt instead. He looked down at Rodney and raised an eyebrow. "Get with the program, Rodney. Unless you just want to lie there and wait to see what happens when they've chewed through your clothes?"
"This is so not happening." Very, very slowly, Rodney began to pull his arm out of his jacket sleeve, trying not to disturb the two Yani who seemed to really appreciate good leather when they tasted it. He stayed lying on his back as he dragged his other arm free, taking a deep breath before lifting his head to look down at the stupid, vicious little monsters attached to his t-shirt and pants. The only good thing was they didn't seem interested in his boots, so at least he wouldn't have to walk through the forest barefoot.
"Any time today, Rodney." Above him, Sheppard was moving slowly and carefully, climbing down the rocks wearing only his boxers and boots, and really, that was something Rodney could have lived without seeing. Ever.
Groaning again, he closed his eyes and started to undo his belt. Next time, he was definitely staying in the village, Stone Age tech or no Stone Age tech.
"You know," he said thoughtfully as he began to push his pants, and the Yani, down towards his feet, "I think this is probably the first time anyone's ever had to requisition a new uniform because it was eaten by puppies."
"Poisonous, killer puppies," Sheppard corrected, dropping down next to Rodney and helping him drag his pants over his boots.
"Right." Sitting up, Rodney struggled out of his shirt, letting Sheppard help him keep the Yani attached to it and not important parts of his anatomy. Speaking of which…
As soon as he was free, he jumped to his feet, turning and trying to check that nothing had latched onto his underwear while he wasn't looking. When he stopped spinning, Sheppard was looking at him, eyebrows not raised exactly, but definitely tending in that direction.
"Oh, shut up," Rodney snapped, giving his boxers a final check. "At least mine don't have Mighty Mouse on them."
Vegetable
Rodney couldn’t remember the last time he'd felt this mellow and happy and relaxed and happy and, yeah. Good. Slowly, he lifted his head, peering through the orange-red flames. On the other side of the campfire, Sheppard was nodding gently to a beat that only he could hear.
"You know," Rodney said, his words as slow as his brain now, fogged and slurred and happy, "This whole survival thing might not be so bad after all."
"Yeah." Still bobbing his head, Sheppard looked up and half-smiled. "We'll try again in the morning. The gate's gotta be around here somewhere."
"Yeah. Somewhere." Lifting his hand, Rodney watched the light of the flames play across his skin. It was kind of pretty. He pushed up his sleeve, letting the fire dye him yellow-gold, shiny and glowing.
"Whatcha doing?" Sheppard dragged himself towards Rodney, swaying a little.
For answer, Rodney held out his arm, but it wasn't enough, there wasn't enough to really show Sheppard and make sure he got it. It took Rodney two tries to get out of his jacket, and Sheppard had to help him with his second arm. Looking up, Rodney said seriously, "I'm thinking of growing a third arm."
Sheppard grinned. "Cool."
"No, really. Think how useful it'd be." Rodney started to wave his hands as he talked, then got distracted by the play of light on his arms again. "Shiny," he said, holding out his arms towards Sheppard, trying to show him. It was taking a lot of effort to sit up like this, so Rodney let himself fall slowly backwards, still with his arms raised, still watching his skin flicker with light and shadow as the flames rose and fell. A shoulder bumped against his as Sheppard lay - fell - down next to him.
"Neat." Sheppard started to wrestle out of his own jacket, elbowing Rodney in the ribs, and catching him in the ear with a flailing hand, which Rodney probably should have been annoyed about, except the light was so pretty, and now it was sparking, shooting clusters of brightness into the sky, and that was even shinier than his arms bathed in gold, so he decided he really didn't care.
After another moment, Sheppard's arms joined his, lifted to the sky and almost glowing in the dying light of the fire.
"See?" Rodney said, coughing a little. The fire was pretty, but it was smoky too, acrid in his nostrils and throat. "You know," he said, a little croakily, "I'm wondering if we should have been more careful about what plants we put on the fire."
"S'warm," Sheppard mumbled, turning his hands thoughtfully. "Smells nice."
"Kind of." It was also a little choking, the smoke filling Rodney's nose and mouth and brain with fogginess. "But d'you think-"
"Oh wow." Obviously not listening to him, Sheppard curled his fingers, pointing one up into the sky. "Look."
One of the few redeeming features of Rodney's time in Siberia had been when two of his colleagues had dragged him on a field trip north, and they'd stood out in the snow and watched the Aurora Borealis dancing across the sky, colors and lights brighter and sharper than he'd expected. He hadn't ever expected to see anything like that in Pegasus.
He opened his mouth to tell Sheppard how it worked, about solar winds and the magnetosphere and particle collisions, but then a wave of green light swept across the sky, and all he could do was gape at it, watching as blue-green-red surged above them. Beside him, Sheppard sighed.
"Shiny."
"Yeah."
Then Sheppard was moving, twisting and struggling with something, and Rodney sat up, his head spinning a little with the sudden change in direction. "What are you- Oh."
Sheppard had wormed his way out of his t-shirt and was frowning down at his arms, which were still bathed in yellow from the fire. Shaking his head, Rodney stood up carefully, only stumbling a little, and grabbed Sheppard's hand, pulling him to his feet and nearly over-balancing them both. They leaned against each other for a moment, letting the world come to a stop around them.
"What-" Sheppard began to ask, then Rodney was pulling him away from the fire, trying to get out of the reach of the firelight.
"We won't see it properly otherwise. It's like," letting go of Sheppard, Rodney waved a hand vaguely at the sky, "light pollution."
"Right." Sheppard still had his head tilted back, staring at the streaks of color above them, green-green-blue now, smears of paint across the sky. His skin was pale in the darkness, but the lights above them weren't bright enough to reflect off him. Or maybe they were still just too close to the fire.
Walking backwards, Rodney started tugging at his own t-shirt, getting it stuck around his ears and bumping into a tree before he stopped and pulled it all the way off. By the time his eyes were uncovered again, Sheppard was sitting on the ground, unlacing his boots.
"What are you doing?" Rodney looked up at the sky, then down at his arms. Still no pretty colors.
"More." Sheppard was intent on getting his left boot off, almost toppling over as it came loose. "More," he said again, and Rodney finally got it as he pulled his pants off as well. Somewhere at the back of Rodney's mind, he suspected that running mostly-naked round a forest was something he should have done years ago, and that Air Force Colonels and senior scientists were probably setting a bad example by doing so.
Then again, there was only him and Sheppard there anyway, so who was ever going to know? And he was getting kind of hot, the foggy haze making him feel clammy and uncomfortable. So what the hell?
Walking barefoot on the leaf litter wasn't that bad after all, and Rodney kept making Sheppard stop, trying to see if they were reflecting the incredible light-show above them yet. He was so intent on seeing if they were glowing and pretty and shiny, that he didn't even notice the thing looming out of the forest until he walked right into it.
As he lay on the ground, groaning, he heard Sheppard give a little whoop of joy.
"Rodney! Buddy! DHD!" There was a familiar sound, then the entire forest lit up with the blue-white-blue glow of the Stargate, and Sheppard was pulling at his arm, dragging him to his feet and shaking him a little. "DHD!"
"Yeah, I got that." Rubbing at his stomach where he'd connected with the damn thing, Rodney watched the light play over Sheppard's face and chest. "Shiny," he said, lifting his own hand to see the effect.
"Home," Sheppard said emphatically, pulling on Rodney's arm and heading right for the Stargate. Just as they stepped into the event horizon, it occurred to Rodney that there was something they'd forgotten.
Mineral
The problem with these kinds of situations was that although there was no time whatsoever, everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Rodney had seen Teyla's foot slip, heard the rumble of stone, felt the shaking in the walls around him but it had felt like forever before he could curl his body over protectively, dropping to his knees and holding a hand up to shield his head from the bigger rocks.
Shale and pebbles and rubble pelted down all around him, and he heard Sheppard's muffled cry, a yell that cut off too quickly for Rodney's liking. He opened his mouth to call out, only to inhale a couple of lungfuls of dust that sent him into a horrendous coughing fit. Being knocked out by one of the larger rocks would probably have been preferable.
Eventually, everything subsided, and Rodney just stayed where he was for a moment, figuring out how to breathe again and trying to work out if he was injured. Some of those stones had felt pretty big, and if it had hit a vertebra or-
"Rodney?" There was coughing from someone who wasn't Rodney, and the sound of rocks being shifted. "Rodney!"
"Yeah." The words set off another coughing fit, and Rodney let himself slowly fall onto his side, still curled up, his precious burden snug against his stomach.
There were more sounds of movement, then there was a hand on his shoulder, another running down his legs. "You alright?"
"Wonderful." Blinking his eyes open, Rodney looked up at Sheppard. And oh boy, did he look even half as bad as that? Sheppard's hair was full of rock-dust, his jacket was torn and scraped, there was a long graze running down his neck and another down his forearm, and he looked as though he'd managed to grind the dust into his face rather than scrubbing it off. "You?" Rodney managed to ask, although every breath hurt his lungs.
"Not too bad." Sheppard brushed irritably at the blood running down the back of his hand. "What about-"
"It's fine." Very, very slowly, Rodney uncurled, clumsily sitting up and undoing his jacket.
The ZPM was intact, glowing gently in the dark of the cave. It wasn't much more than a quarter full, Rodney knew, but he really didn't care. It was beautiful.
Tearing his eyes away from it, he looked up to where the opening in the roof of the cave had been. All that was left was a thin sliver of light beyond what looked like very, very sharp rocks indeed. This should be interesting.
A certain amount of yelling later, Sheppard established that Ronon and Teyla were safe at ground level, about ten feet above the bottom of the cave. But what had once been a slim gap, just about big enough to climb through, had become a tiny opening, with barely enough room for Rodney's head, let along the rest of him. When he said as much, Sheppard tilted his own head thoughtfully.
"Well, if we can get your head through, we should be fine."
"Oh yes, very funny." Cradling the ZPM, Rodney glared at Sheppard, then turned his face upwards again. "Are they at least going to throw us a rope?"
"It got too frayed when Teyla climbed out. Take your boots off."" Sheppard crouched and started to unlace his boots. "If you can get your head through a gap, you can get the rest of you through as well.
"That's just an urban myth" Rodney looked up unhappily, trying to estimate distances.
"Well, we're about to find out, aren't we? Now, take your boots off. You'll be better off without them, trust me." Eyeing the gap, Sheppard also took off his jacket, and after another moment, added his belt to the collection on the floor. "There's not much room." He tore his gaze away long enough to give Rodney a significant look.
"Fine." Rodney put the ZPM on the ground, then sat to take his boots off. "Do you really think we're going to fit through there? And what if it's not stable?" That wasn't a good thought, and Sheppard's lack of an answer wasn't doing much for him. "Sheppard?"
"Some of the rocks at the edge look like they'll come loose to give us more room. I'll go first." Already pushing some of the lower outcroppings, Sheppard gave him a firm nod. "Wrap the ZPM in your jacket. When I'm halfway up, you can pass it to me, and I'll hand it on to Ronon and Teyla. Then you can follow."
"You're going to leave me down here? On my own?" He'd been too elated by the ZPM and terrified by the whole rockslide thing to really pay much attention, but Rodney was seriously starting to notice the walls of the cave. The very close together walls of the cave.
"Rodney." Sheppard's voice was firm enough that Rodney looked up automatically, swallowing hard as Sheppard met his eyes. "You're going to be fine. Wrap up the ZPM, and be ready to pass it to me. Alright?"
"But what-"
"Alright?"
Even Rodney knew better than to argue with that voice, so he just nodded unhappily and started taking his jacket off.
Sheppard actually had his head through the gap before the first stones fell on Rodney, dislodged by one searching foot. He brushed the dust off his face and refrained from offering more advice. His earlier comments had not been appreciated. The gap was wider than it had been, but was still barely big enough for Sheppard to get through. This was not going to be fun.
"Right." One of Sheppard's hands reached down towards Rodney. "Pass it on up."
Rodney had to half-climb onto one of the lower outcroppings to reach, just about getting the arm of his jacket into Sheppard's hand, and for a breathless moment, he thought the hastily knotted sling wasn't going to work. But apparently Atlantis uniforms were made of sturdy stuff, and Sheppard was able to drag the bundle up.
"It's stuck." Sheppard's voice was strained, the effort of hanging on with one hand and resting his body on two tiny ledges barely big enough for his toes clearly audible. "I'm going to unwrap it."
"Are you nuts? You know what'll happen if you drop it?" Rodney had not got himself trapped in a stupid, small, dark, dirty, underground hole just to go home empty handed. Or in really tiny exploded pieces.
"Not exactly ideal, I know, McKay. And I think I'm stuck too."
"What? Sheppard?" There was no answer, just a small rain of pebbles that forced Rodney to step away, spitting dust out again. When he looked back up, Sheppard was using both hands to untie the remains of Rodney's jacket and free the ZPM. For a horrible moment, Rodney thought it was going to fall, and he'd half-raised his hands to catch it, when Sheppard got a proper grip on it again, grunting with effort as he slipped it through the gap and over his head. From somewhere far above, Rodney heard someone yelling.
"Alright, they've got it." Sheppard was still moving and twisting, and for a moment, Rodney couldn’t work out what he was doing. Then he got it.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me."
"It keeps catching and pulling me back." His t-shirt now most of the way off, Sheppard gave a final wriggle and suddenly Rodney was looking up into a faceful of black cloth. Perfect.
He dropped Sheppard's shirt onto the ground, and hastily stepped aside as a pair of heavy combat trousers fell towards him at what seemed like ballistic speed.
Rodney resisted the urge to raise his voice, not wanting to bring the rest of the cave down on him. "You know how badly scratched you're going to be, right? And who knows what's in these rocks. We are talking mould and lichen and dust and who knows what kind of bug life."
"Yeah, but you know what, Rodney? It's that, or stay down there. And you've got at least an inch on me, so you might want to think about it." Sheppard, now wearing only his socks, pushed with one foot, lifting the other to get a toe-hold on the next ledge. Rodney looked away quickly.
It seemed to take forever until Sheppard's feet finally disappeared through the gap in the rocks, and he called back down, "Alright, McKay. Whenever you're ready."
Sighing, Rodney reached for the hem of his t-shirt. The things he did for Atlantis.
Chemical
Rodney was starting to think civilization was severely overrated. P90s, on the other hand, he was really becoming quite fond of. Turning, he began firing again, covering Sheppard as he ran past. This was not going well.
The one good thing was that the corridors under their feet were smooth like concrete, and the walls were thick enough to absorb the shots from their pursuers without falling apart or sending out wild ricochets. Rodney ducked automatically, breaking off his own fire to turn and chase after Sheppard, who'd disappeared around the next corner.
It was darker as they headed further into the factory, the wall lights coming at longer intervals and the air hot and humid.
"Next time," Rodney panted, as they barreled down yet another identical corridor, "I'm going to the farming display."
"I'll be sure to tell Teyla." Sheppard was looking around, up to the ceiling and down the walls. "What did they say they were making here?"
"They said it was a kind of chemical fertilizer. Judging by what we saw, I'm thinking we're talking explosive rather than agriculture."
"Corrosive?"
Rodney rolled his eyes out of pure habit, narrowly avoiding running into the wall as they turned yet another corner. "No, I'm sure they just wear all that protective clothing because it's this year's fashion."
"Right." Skidding to a halt, Sheppard looked up at the pipes running along the ceiling. "I have an idea."
They'd apparently shaken their pursuers better than they'd realized, because Rodney's legs were beginning to cramp by the time he heard footsteps coming towards them.
"I'd just like to state for the record," he whispered, ignoring the way Sheppard was ignoring him, "that I think this is a really bad idea."
"We need a diversion, Rodney." Sheppard hadn't taken his eyes from the corridor, and he kept his gun trained on the ceiling. "If you have any better ideas for getting out of here, I'm open to suggestions."
Huffing a little, but unable to actually think of anything, Rodney squinted down the sights of his own gun again. "Fine. But if the whole factory blows up, don't come whining to me."
There was a pause, then Sheppard said, "Could that happen?"
Another, longer pause while Rodney thought about it. "Probably not. But we shouldn't rule it out."
"Great."
Then there was no time to argue because the gang of guards was coming around the corner again, and Sheppard was firing at the pipes above them, and Rodney was joining him, the gunfire absurdly loud in the tight space. The pipes burst impressively, and Rodney ducked his head, trying to protect his eyes and face as a light spray of the chemicals wafted over them.
Then Sheppard had hold of his arm, and they were running again, ignoring the alarms and flashing lights, just sprinting down corridor after corridor until finally, mercifully, they were out in the fresh air again.
Rodney wanted nothing more than to just roll onto his face and sleep for a week, but he settled for dropping to his knees and taking long, gulping breaths. The adrenaline was still coursing through him, making his hands shake and his head spin, and he was alive, by some miracle. They were both alive. Weren't they?
Groaning, he lifted his head, aware that he hadn't heard Sheppard say anything since they'd emerged into the clean air outside the factory.
"Sheppard?"
Sheppard was standing a little way away, his hands held out in front of him and a frown on his face.
"Rodney, do you feel okay?"
"What?" He'd just run a marathon at top speed. Of course he didn't feel okay. Rodney opened his mouth to say as much, when he suddenly got what Sheppard was talking about. Looking down, he saw the red blotches on the back of his hands, felt the nagging itch on his back.
"Damnit." Pulling off his tac vest, Sheppard wrestled his way out of his jacket and began doing battle with the t-shirt underneath. "Off, off," he said, voice muffled by cloth, but Rodney was already there. Forcing back the panic, and the mental image of acid eating through his clothes into his skin, he struggled out of his vest, jacket and t-shirt.
"Pants," he said, looking up at Sheppard who seemed to have stopped stripping to stare at his hands.
This time it was Sheppard's turn to look confused. "What?" Then he saw what Rodney had seen, the growing holes in his pants, and he got them off almost before Rodney had unbuckled his own belt.
They watched in silence as their pile of discarded clothing gradually went up in smoke. After a little while, Sheppard cleared his throat.
"Corrosive, huh?"
"We need to get to the stream at the edge of the village to wash this off.." The backs of Rodney's hands were itching, and there was a nasty raised area on the side of his face that he really didn't want to touch again. Sheppard looked as though he'd walked through a patch of poison ivy, and as he bent to pick up his gun, the look on his face suggested that they'd better not run into any more locals on their way back to the Stargate.
"Come on," he said. "Let's go home."
Ritual
"You know this is all your fault."
Sheppard turned to Rodney, raising his eyebrows. "My fault?"
"If you hadn't touched that panel thing in the middle of the ceremony, the whole place wouldn't have lit up and they wouldn't have thought you were some kind of demon."
"And if you hadn't gotten so excited about it all, I might have noticed they were angry before they actually tried to kill us."
They glared at each other for a long moment, then Rodney folded his arms across his chest, trying to hold in some body heat. "You know," he said, going for biting sarcasm despite the shivering, "I think this may be a first."
"Oh yeah?" Sheppard turned away, scanning their surroundings again. Why couldn't they have been chased naked out of a town on a desert planet? Rodney's life just wasn't fair.
"Yes," he went on. "I don't think anyone's actually ever tried to tear us apart with their bare hands before."
"Just be grateful they got our clothes, not us," Sheppard said.
"Grateful!" The rest of what Rodney had been going to rant was lost as Sheppard clamped a hand over his mouth.
"Would you keep a lid on it? This is called hiding, alright?" When Rodney narrowed his eyes at him, Sheppard released him carefully. "We are going to hide here until nightfall, then we're going to go very quietly to the Stargate and dial home, okay?"
"Fine." Folding his arms tighter, Rodney huddled against the rock. The landscape around the Stargate on PE3-U65 was bleak and featureless, reminding him of pictures of the Mongolian Steppes. He never thought he'd miss the endless forest planets that they usually ended up on. They didn't come with a biting wind and hardly any shelter.
Next to him, Sheppard shivered as well, shifting closer. He still had the top of his pants and half of one of the legs, while Rodney had lost everything except a small sliver of shirt that was doing nothing to keep out the chill. Not that the extra warmth from Sheppard's leg against his wasn't welcome, but Rodney was in no mood to share anything, let alone body heat.
As the wind swept down over them again, Rodney shivered hugely, the movement bumping Sheppard and almost knocking him over.
"You alright there, buddy?" Sheppard asked, turning a little.
"Oh, don't even try to make this any better," Rodney said, the words slipping past his chattering teeth. "You're going to be sleeping in Siberian quarters for a month when we get back."
"Let's just concentrate on getting back, shall we?" Moving closer again, Sheppard leaned against Rodney. He wasn't much warmer than Rodney himself, but he had more clothing, and even the tiny bit of heat he was giving off was welcome.
Forgetting to be so annoyed for a moment, because even he wasn't idiot enough to take hypothermia over irritation, Rodney leaned back, shivering again and shifting closer.
"Maybe just for a week," he mumbled. "But you'd still better requisition an extra blanket."
"I'll bear that in mind." Sheppard nudged him a little. "Don't go to sleep, okay. Watch our backs."
"Right." Moving awkwardly, Rodney turned so that he had his back to the rock and his shoulder pressed tight against Sheppard's side. A little more shifting around, and they were half-curled around each other, so although Rodney was likely to lose toes to frostbite or similar, at least his core temperature would remain close to what it should be. He stared out at the endless plain, watching the low grass ripple in the wind. "What exactly am I watching again?"
Sheppard gave a huff that might have been laughter, which Rodney felt as much as heard. "Just stay awake, okay?"
"Okay." Rodney watched the grass for another long minute. Then he said, "Sheppard?"
"Yes?"
"We left our packs down in the village, right?"
"Yes."
"There's a space blanket in the bottom of mine."
"Yes?"
Rodney rolled his eyes. "You may be happy to walk into the gateroom wearing nothing but a smile. Again. But some of us have a basic sense of dignity."
This time, the huff was definitely laughter, half-annoyed, half-amused. "Alright, McKay. We'll see what we can do to spare your blushes."
"Good." Nodding firmly, Rodney braced himself against the cold and settled down to watch their backs.
Close Call
Three weeks into the expedition, and Rodney had to face the inevitable. He'd put it off for as long as possible, using his not-inconsiderable ingenuity to avoid the problem, but there was no getting around it.
He had run out of clothes.
It didn't help, of course, that Sheppard had roped him into joining his gate team, despite the fact that Rodney distinctly remembered saying no, because apparently, in Sheppard's world, shaking your head meant yes. But the off-world activity meant that Rodney had gotten through his uniforms quicker than he'd expected, and even he had drawn the line at a fourth outing for a t-shirt that he'd run for his life in. People were starting to look at him funny in the lab.
Mind you, people also looked at him funny in the corridors, although he had worn things other than his standard-issue uniform around the city. Anyone would think they'd never seen a guy in a shirt before. He had to stop at the top of a flight of stairs, fishing in a pocket for the directions he'd written down and trying not to drop the bag of laundry. It was taking him a while to find his way round, and not everything was clearly identifiable yet, but the room he was heading for had been described as the 'remaking' room, so he figured that was probably as good a place to start as any.
Apparently, someone else agreed with him.
"McKay." Sheppard gave him a nod, then went back to peering at the large machine in front of him.
"Is that the washing machine?" Rodney asked, dropping his bag and going over to look. Like him, Sheppard seemed to have run out of uniforms, and was wearing a horrifically checked shirt over pale trousers. And people had stared at Rodney in the hallways.
"I think so." Giving the front a nervous prod, Sheppard shrugged. "It looks sort of like a washer, don't you think?"
"You think?" Maybe if he tilted his head a little and imagined it was white. There was a seam all around the top that definitely suggested it had a lid, and the small panel along the back looked like the controls. "I guess it looks more like a washer than anything else."
"And there's three of them down here." Sheppard nodded towards the two other machines along the wall. "Maybe it's like an Ancient Laundromat."
"Well, there's only one way to find out." Stepping back, Rodney gestured for Sheppard to go ahead.
Sheppard shifted a little. "You don't want to try it out?"
"You were here first."
"You've got more than me."
They looked at each other warily, then Rodney said, "You don't think it's a washer, do you?"
"Neither do you." Sheppard folded his arms. "And it might be."
"Or it might not be." Returning the gesture, Rodney said, "If you don't think it is one, why are you suggesting I go first?"
"I was trying to be polite." When Rodney just raised an eyebrow, Sheppard tried to look clueless. Then his face crumpled a little, in the expression that Rodney was learning to recognize as are you going to make me say it. "Alright, no, I'm not sure. But one of us needs to go first."
"Fine." Rodney held out a hand and Sheppard leaned back a little. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Rodney curled up his fingers and said, "Best of three."
Catching on, Sheppard unfolded enough to nod, then hold out one of his hands, tucking the other behind his back. "Fine. On three?"
"Sure." Rodney clenched his hand into a fist, and waved it in time with Sheppard's. "One, Two- Hang on."
"What?"
"Are we going on three, or after three."
Sheppard stared at him. "It's Rock, Paper, Scissors, McKay."
"I know, but my little sister always used to accuse me of cheating if we didn't agree that right at the start, and as much as I would like to get my clothes washed at some point today, I don't want to lose or win just because-"
"McKay!" Sheppard's rather too-loud voice broke into Rodney's explanation. "We'll go after three, okay?"
"Okay." Settling his shoulders, Rodney put his free hand behind his back and nodded. "Right."
Sheppard won the first, then lost the second to Rodney's paper. Honestly, going for Rock twice in a row was amateur play. Before they counted down the third, Sheppard frowned, then looked up.
"You have a sister?"
"What?" Rodney had been in the middle of tactical planning, and he wondered if Sheppard was just trying to distract him. He waved his free hand irritably. "Oh, yes. On Earth. Obviously." Sheppard was still staring at him. "What?"
"Just trying to imagine a female version of you."
Rolling his eyes, Rodney clenched his hand back into a fist. "Yeah, well, we're not much alike."
"Right." That seemed to settle something for Sheppard, at least, because he looked back down at their hands again. "You ready?"
"Of course." Stretching out his fingers one last time, Rodney started to count. "One, two-"
"Coming through!"
Both Rodney and Sheppard jumped back as someone came hurrying into the room, carrying something large and steaming. No, Rodney realized as he peered closer. Smoking. That couldn't be good.
Close behind the first man came a second, muttering to himself in a language Rodney didn't understand but recognized.
"Zelinky?"
The muttering man stopped so suddenly that Rodney almost jumped. "Zelenka. Doctor McKay. Apologies, but we must get rid of this quickly."
He darted forwards, pulling open the top of the Ancient 'washing machine' and helping the first man to pour the contents into it. Then he closed the lid with a bang and pressed something on the control panel.
"What's going on?" Sheppard asked, not nearly as unruffled as he was trying to sound. Rodney had seen the way his eyes had bulged.
"Failed experiment," Zelanky said shortly, shooting a nervous glance at Rodney. "Will not happen again."
Then the two intruders were gone, leaving Sheppard and Rodney staring at each other and small wisps of smoke escaping from under the lid of the so-not-a-washing-machine.
"So," Sheppard said, sticking his hands in his pockets.
"So." Rodney rubbed his hands on his pants, then reached down to pick up his laundry. "I'm just going to…"
"Yeah. Me too." Retrieving his own basket, Sheppard nodded slowly. "I'll just…"
"Yeah." There was a slightly awkward moment when they both tried to get through the door at once, then they were in the corridor, trying not to look at each other.
Sheppard cracked first, shaking his head and bumping his shoulder against Rodney's, ever so slightly. "See you around, McKay." He set off down the corridor to the right.
"Right." Rodney gave an abortive little wave with his free hand, then hefted his bag again. The washers had to be around here somewhere.
And he was damned if he was going to let Sheppard find them first.
Author:
jadesfire2808Words: ~6,330
Rating: PG
Spoilers/Warnings: None (skips about between different seasons)/er…naked!Genfic? (Yes, it's possible) Does that need a warning?
Notes: With huge thanks to First Readers, and particularly
bironic and crystalshard for the speediest beta-services known to fanfic writer.Summary: Does exactly what it says in the title
Animal
"Just stop struggling."
That was, of course, easy for Sheppard to say. He wasn't the one about to die a painfully and excruciatingly embarrassing death. Rodney had no objections to dying for a cause, in principle at least (although living for a cause was probably preferable), but this was ridiculous.
"Rodney, stay still." Sheppard was perched on the rock above him, his face upside down from Rodney's point of view. Even inverted, the smirk was maddening. "Maybe they'll just lose interest."
"Oh yes, thank you, Colonel Tarzan. Have a lot of experience of wild…animals…do you?"
Shifting, apparently to make himself more comfortable which was completely unfair when Rodney was trapped with a rock sticking into his back, his legs twisted awkwardly and these…things…crawling all over him, Sheppard shrugged. "My dad bought my brother a puppy when I was nine."
"They are not puppies!" Rodney yelled, immediately regretting it as the critters climbing over his chest and arms flinched and clung on tighter. Gritting his teeth, he took a few deep breaths, then glared up at Sheppard. "Are you just going to sit there, or are you going to help me?"
"Well, Harinda and the others did say that the Yani have got poisonous bites, so I'm thinking I might just stay here and try not to upset the little guys."
"Little and deadly," Rodney shot back, trying not to upset the, oh alright, puppy-like creatures still making themselves comfortable all over him. One day, when Sheppard suggested a short, exploratory stroll, he was just going to say no, no matter how boring the technologically ignorant village was. If only because Sheppard's idea of a stroll usually translated to a five-mile hike through hostile territory.
Rodney whimpered a little as one of the Yani got all adventurous and started licking at his neck. "Sheppard!"
"Yeah. Kinda busy here." There was a strained quality to Sheppard's voice, and Rodney dared to look up for long enough to see the other man outlined against the sky, his shoulders oddly stiff and his neck bent at a weird angle.
As his eyes adjusted to the brightness, Rodney made out a little puppy-sized object clinging to the arm of Sheppard's shirt. Perfect.
"Next time," Rodney said, letting his head thud back against the rocks, "I'm bringing Ronon."
"Yeah. Damnit."
"What?"
"There's a couple on my pants too."
"Wonderful." Lifting his head again, Rodney tried to count the little so-and-so's crawling over his body. "Well I've got twelve down here. You?"
"Four and counting. Huh."
That was Sheppard's I think I have an idea voice, and as much as it usually made Rodney's heart sink, being covered in tiny, poisonous puppies wasn't doing much for his own ability to formulate plans. "What?"
"They're not going for my arms, just my shirt."
Rodney tilted his head back again, squinting up at Sheppard. It was true that while there was a Yani hanging off each of his shirt sleeves, Sheppard's bare arms seemed to be untouched.
"Brilliant observation," Rodney said, trying to glare at Sheppard, who was blatantly ignoring him. "Which is of use to us how exactly?"
"They like our clothes." Sheppard was already reaching down carefully to unclip his gun, laying it on the rock beside him. "So…"
"So?" Then Rodney saw that Sheppard was starting to undo the buttons of his shirt. "Oh, you are not serious."
"If you've got a better idea, now's the time."
Rodney almost certainly would have, except he was covered in tiny puppies who could kill him with a single bite, and really, how was he meant to think like this? When he looked up again, Sheppard was carefully pulling his shirt off, one Yani still attached to the sleeve, another having latched onto his t-shirt instead. He looked down at Rodney and raised an eyebrow. "Get with the program, Rodney. Unless you just want to lie there and wait to see what happens when they've chewed through your clothes?"
"This is so not happening." Very, very slowly, Rodney began to pull his arm out of his jacket sleeve, trying not to disturb the two Yani who seemed to really appreciate good leather when they tasted it. He stayed lying on his back as he dragged his other arm free, taking a deep breath before lifting his head to look down at the stupid, vicious little monsters attached to his t-shirt and pants. The only good thing was they didn't seem interested in his boots, so at least he wouldn't have to walk through the forest barefoot.
"Any time today, Rodney." Above him, Sheppard was moving slowly and carefully, climbing down the rocks wearing only his boxers and boots, and really, that was something Rodney could have lived without seeing. Ever.
Groaning again, he closed his eyes and started to undo his belt. Next time, he was definitely staying in the village, Stone Age tech or no Stone Age tech.
"You know," he said thoughtfully as he began to push his pants, and the Yani, down towards his feet, "I think this is probably the first time anyone's ever had to requisition a new uniform because it was eaten by puppies."
"Poisonous, killer puppies," Sheppard corrected, dropping down next to Rodney and helping him drag his pants over his boots.
"Right." Sitting up, Rodney struggled out of his shirt, letting Sheppard help him keep the Yani attached to it and not important parts of his anatomy. Speaking of which…
As soon as he was free, he jumped to his feet, turning and trying to check that nothing had latched onto his underwear while he wasn't looking. When he stopped spinning, Sheppard was looking at him, eyebrows not raised exactly, but definitely tending in that direction.
"Oh, shut up," Rodney snapped, giving his boxers a final check. "At least mine don't have Mighty Mouse on them."
Vegetable
Rodney couldn’t remember the last time he'd felt this mellow and happy and relaxed and happy and, yeah. Good. Slowly, he lifted his head, peering through the orange-red flames. On the other side of the campfire, Sheppard was nodding gently to a beat that only he could hear.
"You know," Rodney said, his words as slow as his brain now, fogged and slurred and happy, "This whole survival thing might not be so bad after all."
"Yeah." Still bobbing his head, Sheppard looked up and half-smiled. "We'll try again in the morning. The gate's gotta be around here somewhere."
"Yeah. Somewhere." Lifting his hand, Rodney watched the light of the flames play across his skin. It was kind of pretty. He pushed up his sleeve, letting the fire dye him yellow-gold, shiny and glowing.
"Whatcha doing?" Sheppard dragged himself towards Rodney, swaying a little.
For answer, Rodney held out his arm, but it wasn't enough, there wasn't enough to really show Sheppard and make sure he got it. It took Rodney two tries to get out of his jacket, and Sheppard had to help him with his second arm. Looking up, Rodney said seriously, "I'm thinking of growing a third arm."
Sheppard grinned. "Cool."
"No, really. Think how useful it'd be." Rodney started to wave his hands as he talked, then got distracted by the play of light on his arms again. "Shiny," he said, holding out his arms towards Sheppard, trying to show him. It was taking a lot of effort to sit up like this, so Rodney let himself fall slowly backwards, still with his arms raised, still watching his skin flicker with light and shadow as the flames rose and fell. A shoulder bumped against his as Sheppard lay - fell - down next to him.
"Neat." Sheppard started to wrestle out of his own jacket, elbowing Rodney in the ribs, and catching him in the ear with a flailing hand, which Rodney probably should have been annoyed about, except the light was so pretty, and now it was sparking, shooting clusters of brightness into the sky, and that was even shinier than his arms bathed in gold, so he decided he really didn't care.
After another moment, Sheppard's arms joined his, lifted to the sky and almost glowing in the dying light of the fire.
"See?" Rodney said, coughing a little. The fire was pretty, but it was smoky too, acrid in his nostrils and throat. "You know," he said, a little croakily, "I'm wondering if we should have been more careful about what plants we put on the fire."
"S'warm," Sheppard mumbled, turning his hands thoughtfully. "Smells nice."
"Kind of." It was also a little choking, the smoke filling Rodney's nose and mouth and brain with fogginess. "But d'you think-"
"Oh wow." Obviously not listening to him, Sheppard curled his fingers, pointing one up into the sky. "Look."
One of the few redeeming features of Rodney's time in Siberia had been when two of his colleagues had dragged him on a field trip north, and they'd stood out in the snow and watched the Aurora Borealis dancing across the sky, colors and lights brighter and sharper than he'd expected. He hadn't ever expected to see anything like that in Pegasus.
He opened his mouth to tell Sheppard how it worked, about solar winds and the magnetosphere and particle collisions, but then a wave of green light swept across the sky, and all he could do was gape at it, watching as blue-green-red surged above them. Beside him, Sheppard sighed.
"Shiny."
"Yeah."
Then Sheppard was moving, twisting and struggling with something, and Rodney sat up, his head spinning a little with the sudden change in direction. "What are you- Oh."
Sheppard had wormed his way out of his t-shirt and was frowning down at his arms, which were still bathed in yellow from the fire. Shaking his head, Rodney stood up carefully, only stumbling a little, and grabbed Sheppard's hand, pulling him to his feet and nearly over-balancing them both. They leaned against each other for a moment, letting the world come to a stop around them.
"What-" Sheppard began to ask, then Rodney was pulling him away from the fire, trying to get out of the reach of the firelight.
"We won't see it properly otherwise. It's like," letting go of Sheppard, Rodney waved a hand vaguely at the sky, "light pollution."
"Right." Sheppard still had his head tilted back, staring at the streaks of color above them, green-green-blue now, smears of paint across the sky. His skin was pale in the darkness, but the lights above them weren't bright enough to reflect off him. Or maybe they were still just too close to the fire.
Walking backwards, Rodney started tugging at his own t-shirt, getting it stuck around his ears and bumping into a tree before he stopped and pulled it all the way off. By the time his eyes were uncovered again, Sheppard was sitting on the ground, unlacing his boots.
"What are you doing?" Rodney looked up at the sky, then down at his arms. Still no pretty colors.
"More." Sheppard was intent on getting his left boot off, almost toppling over as it came loose. "More," he said again, and Rodney finally got it as he pulled his pants off as well. Somewhere at the back of Rodney's mind, he suspected that running mostly-naked round a forest was something he should have done years ago, and that Air Force Colonels and senior scientists were probably setting a bad example by doing so.
Then again, there was only him and Sheppard there anyway, so who was ever going to know? And he was getting kind of hot, the foggy haze making him feel clammy and uncomfortable. So what the hell?
Walking barefoot on the leaf litter wasn't that bad after all, and Rodney kept making Sheppard stop, trying to see if they were reflecting the incredible light-show above them yet. He was so intent on seeing if they were glowing and pretty and shiny, that he didn't even notice the thing looming out of the forest until he walked right into it.
As he lay on the ground, groaning, he heard Sheppard give a little whoop of joy.
"Rodney! Buddy! DHD!" There was a familiar sound, then the entire forest lit up with the blue-white-blue glow of the Stargate, and Sheppard was pulling at his arm, dragging him to his feet and shaking him a little. "DHD!"
"Yeah, I got that." Rubbing at his stomach where he'd connected with the damn thing, Rodney watched the light play over Sheppard's face and chest. "Shiny," he said, lifting his own hand to see the effect.
"Home," Sheppard said emphatically, pulling on Rodney's arm and heading right for the Stargate. Just as they stepped into the event horizon, it occurred to Rodney that there was something they'd forgotten.
Mineral
The problem with these kinds of situations was that although there was no time whatsoever, everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Rodney had seen Teyla's foot slip, heard the rumble of stone, felt the shaking in the walls around him but it had felt like forever before he could curl his body over protectively, dropping to his knees and holding a hand up to shield his head from the bigger rocks.
Shale and pebbles and rubble pelted down all around him, and he heard Sheppard's muffled cry, a yell that cut off too quickly for Rodney's liking. He opened his mouth to call out, only to inhale a couple of lungfuls of dust that sent him into a horrendous coughing fit. Being knocked out by one of the larger rocks would probably have been preferable.
Eventually, everything subsided, and Rodney just stayed where he was for a moment, figuring out how to breathe again and trying to work out if he was injured. Some of those stones had felt pretty big, and if it had hit a vertebra or-
"Rodney?" There was coughing from someone who wasn't Rodney, and the sound of rocks being shifted. "Rodney!"
"Yeah." The words set off another coughing fit, and Rodney let himself slowly fall onto his side, still curled up, his precious burden snug against his stomach.
There were more sounds of movement, then there was a hand on his shoulder, another running down his legs. "You alright?"
"Wonderful." Blinking his eyes open, Rodney looked up at Sheppard. And oh boy, did he look even half as bad as that? Sheppard's hair was full of rock-dust, his jacket was torn and scraped, there was a long graze running down his neck and another down his forearm, and he looked as though he'd managed to grind the dust into his face rather than scrubbing it off. "You?" Rodney managed to ask, although every breath hurt his lungs.
"Not too bad." Sheppard brushed irritably at the blood running down the back of his hand. "What about-"
"It's fine." Very, very slowly, Rodney uncurled, clumsily sitting up and undoing his jacket.
The ZPM was intact, glowing gently in the dark of the cave. It wasn't much more than a quarter full, Rodney knew, but he really didn't care. It was beautiful.
Tearing his eyes away from it, he looked up to where the opening in the roof of the cave had been. All that was left was a thin sliver of light beyond what looked like very, very sharp rocks indeed. This should be interesting.
A certain amount of yelling later, Sheppard established that Ronon and Teyla were safe at ground level, about ten feet above the bottom of the cave. But what had once been a slim gap, just about big enough to climb through, had become a tiny opening, with barely enough room for Rodney's head, let along the rest of him. When he said as much, Sheppard tilted his own head thoughtfully.
"Well, if we can get your head through, we should be fine."
"Oh yes, very funny." Cradling the ZPM, Rodney glared at Sheppard, then turned his face upwards again. "Are they at least going to throw us a rope?"
"It got too frayed when Teyla climbed out. Take your boots off."" Sheppard crouched and started to unlace his boots. "If you can get your head through a gap, you can get the rest of you through as well.
"That's just an urban myth" Rodney looked up unhappily, trying to estimate distances.
"Well, we're about to find out, aren't we? Now, take your boots off. You'll be better off without them, trust me." Eyeing the gap, Sheppard also took off his jacket, and after another moment, added his belt to the collection on the floor. "There's not much room." He tore his gaze away long enough to give Rodney a significant look.
"Fine." Rodney put the ZPM on the ground, then sat to take his boots off. "Do you really think we're going to fit through there? And what if it's not stable?" That wasn't a good thought, and Sheppard's lack of an answer wasn't doing much for him. "Sheppard?"
"Some of the rocks at the edge look like they'll come loose to give us more room. I'll go first." Already pushing some of the lower outcroppings, Sheppard gave him a firm nod. "Wrap the ZPM in your jacket. When I'm halfway up, you can pass it to me, and I'll hand it on to Ronon and Teyla. Then you can follow."
"You're going to leave me down here? On my own?" He'd been too elated by the ZPM and terrified by the whole rockslide thing to really pay much attention, but Rodney was seriously starting to notice the walls of the cave. The very close together walls of the cave.
"Rodney." Sheppard's voice was firm enough that Rodney looked up automatically, swallowing hard as Sheppard met his eyes. "You're going to be fine. Wrap up the ZPM, and be ready to pass it to me. Alright?"
"But what-"
"Alright?"
Even Rodney knew better than to argue with that voice, so he just nodded unhappily and started taking his jacket off.
Sheppard actually had his head through the gap before the first stones fell on Rodney, dislodged by one searching foot. He brushed the dust off his face and refrained from offering more advice. His earlier comments had not been appreciated. The gap was wider than it had been, but was still barely big enough for Sheppard to get through. This was not going to be fun.
"Right." One of Sheppard's hands reached down towards Rodney. "Pass it on up."
Rodney had to half-climb onto one of the lower outcroppings to reach, just about getting the arm of his jacket into Sheppard's hand, and for a breathless moment, he thought the hastily knotted sling wasn't going to work. But apparently Atlantis uniforms were made of sturdy stuff, and Sheppard was able to drag the bundle up.
"It's stuck." Sheppard's voice was strained, the effort of hanging on with one hand and resting his body on two tiny ledges barely big enough for his toes clearly audible. "I'm going to unwrap it."
"Are you nuts? You know what'll happen if you drop it?" Rodney had not got himself trapped in a stupid, small, dark, dirty, underground hole just to go home empty handed. Or in really tiny exploded pieces.
"Not exactly ideal, I know, McKay. And I think I'm stuck too."
"What? Sheppard?" There was no answer, just a small rain of pebbles that forced Rodney to step away, spitting dust out again. When he looked back up, Sheppard was using both hands to untie the remains of Rodney's jacket and free the ZPM. For a horrible moment, Rodney thought it was going to fall, and he'd half-raised his hands to catch it, when Sheppard got a proper grip on it again, grunting with effort as he slipped it through the gap and over his head. From somewhere far above, Rodney heard someone yelling.
"Alright, they've got it." Sheppard was still moving and twisting, and for a moment, Rodney couldn’t work out what he was doing. Then he got it.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me."
"It keeps catching and pulling me back." His t-shirt now most of the way off, Sheppard gave a final wriggle and suddenly Rodney was looking up into a faceful of black cloth. Perfect.
He dropped Sheppard's shirt onto the ground, and hastily stepped aside as a pair of heavy combat trousers fell towards him at what seemed like ballistic speed.
Rodney resisted the urge to raise his voice, not wanting to bring the rest of the cave down on him. "You know how badly scratched you're going to be, right? And who knows what's in these rocks. We are talking mould and lichen and dust and who knows what kind of bug life."
"Yeah, but you know what, Rodney? It's that, or stay down there. And you've got at least an inch on me, so you might want to think about it." Sheppard, now wearing only his socks, pushed with one foot, lifting the other to get a toe-hold on the next ledge. Rodney looked away quickly.
It seemed to take forever until Sheppard's feet finally disappeared through the gap in the rocks, and he called back down, "Alright, McKay. Whenever you're ready."
Sighing, Rodney reached for the hem of his t-shirt. The things he did for Atlantis.
Chemical
Rodney was starting to think civilization was severely overrated. P90s, on the other hand, he was really becoming quite fond of. Turning, he began firing again, covering Sheppard as he ran past. This was not going well.
The one good thing was that the corridors under their feet were smooth like concrete, and the walls were thick enough to absorb the shots from their pursuers without falling apart or sending out wild ricochets. Rodney ducked automatically, breaking off his own fire to turn and chase after Sheppard, who'd disappeared around the next corner.
It was darker as they headed further into the factory, the wall lights coming at longer intervals and the air hot and humid.
"Next time," Rodney panted, as they barreled down yet another identical corridor, "I'm going to the farming display."
"I'll be sure to tell Teyla." Sheppard was looking around, up to the ceiling and down the walls. "What did they say they were making here?"
"They said it was a kind of chemical fertilizer. Judging by what we saw, I'm thinking we're talking explosive rather than agriculture."
"Corrosive?"
Rodney rolled his eyes out of pure habit, narrowly avoiding running into the wall as they turned yet another corner. "No, I'm sure they just wear all that protective clothing because it's this year's fashion."
"Right." Skidding to a halt, Sheppard looked up at the pipes running along the ceiling. "I have an idea."
They'd apparently shaken their pursuers better than they'd realized, because Rodney's legs were beginning to cramp by the time he heard footsteps coming towards them.
"I'd just like to state for the record," he whispered, ignoring the way Sheppard was ignoring him, "that I think this is a really bad idea."
"We need a diversion, Rodney." Sheppard hadn't taken his eyes from the corridor, and he kept his gun trained on the ceiling. "If you have any better ideas for getting out of here, I'm open to suggestions."
Huffing a little, but unable to actually think of anything, Rodney squinted down the sights of his own gun again. "Fine. But if the whole factory blows up, don't come whining to me."
There was a pause, then Sheppard said, "Could that happen?"
Another, longer pause while Rodney thought about it. "Probably not. But we shouldn't rule it out."
"Great."
Then there was no time to argue because the gang of guards was coming around the corner again, and Sheppard was firing at the pipes above them, and Rodney was joining him, the gunfire absurdly loud in the tight space. The pipes burst impressively, and Rodney ducked his head, trying to protect his eyes and face as a light spray of the chemicals wafted over them.
Then Sheppard had hold of his arm, and they were running again, ignoring the alarms and flashing lights, just sprinting down corridor after corridor until finally, mercifully, they were out in the fresh air again.
Rodney wanted nothing more than to just roll onto his face and sleep for a week, but he settled for dropping to his knees and taking long, gulping breaths. The adrenaline was still coursing through him, making his hands shake and his head spin, and he was alive, by some miracle. They were both alive. Weren't they?
Groaning, he lifted his head, aware that he hadn't heard Sheppard say anything since they'd emerged into the clean air outside the factory.
"Sheppard?"
Sheppard was standing a little way away, his hands held out in front of him and a frown on his face.
"Rodney, do you feel okay?"
"What?" He'd just run a marathon at top speed. Of course he didn't feel okay. Rodney opened his mouth to say as much, when he suddenly got what Sheppard was talking about. Looking down, he saw the red blotches on the back of his hands, felt the nagging itch on his back.
"Damnit." Pulling off his tac vest, Sheppard wrestled his way out of his jacket and began doing battle with the t-shirt underneath. "Off, off," he said, voice muffled by cloth, but Rodney was already there. Forcing back the panic, and the mental image of acid eating through his clothes into his skin, he struggled out of his vest, jacket and t-shirt.
"Pants," he said, looking up at Sheppard who seemed to have stopped stripping to stare at his hands.
This time it was Sheppard's turn to look confused. "What?" Then he saw what Rodney had seen, the growing holes in his pants, and he got them off almost before Rodney had unbuckled his own belt.
They watched in silence as their pile of discarded clothing gradually went up in smoke. After a little while, Sheppard cleared his throat.
"Corrosive, huh?"
"We need to get to the stream at the edge of the village to wash this off.." The backs of Rodney's hands were itching, and there was a nasty raised area on the side of his face that he really didn't want to touch again. Sheppard looked as though he'd walked through a patch of poison ivy, and as he bent to pick up his gun, the look on his face suggested that they'd better not run into any more locals on their way back to the Stargate.
"Come on," he said. "Let's go home."
Ritual
"You know this is all your fault."
Sheppard turned to Rodney, raising his eyebrows. "My fault?"
"If you hadn't touched that panel thing in the middle of the ceremony, the whole place wouldn't have lit up and they wouldn't have thought you were some kind of demon."
"And if you hadn't gotten so excited about it all, I might have noticed they were angry before they actually tried to kill us."
They glared at each other for a long moment, then Rodney folded his arms across his chest, trying to hold in some body heat. "You know," he said, going for biting sarcasm despite the shivering, "I think this may be a first."
"Oh yeah?" Sheppard turned away, scanning their surroundings again. Why couldn't they have been chased naked out of a town on a desert planet? Rodney's life just wasn't fair.
"Yes," he went on. "I don't think anyone's actually ever tried to tear us apart with their bare hands before."
"Just be grateful they got our clothes, not us," Sheppard said.
"Grateful!" The rest of what Rodney had been going to rant was lost as Sheppard clamped a hand over his mouth.
"Would you keep a lid on it? This is called hiding, alright?" When Rodney narrowed his eyes at him, Sheppard released him carefully. "We are going to hide here until nightfall, then we're going to go very quietly to the Stargate and dial home, okay?"
"Fine." Folding his arms tighter, Rodney huddled against the rock. The landscape around the Stargate on PE3-U65 was bleak and featureless, reminding him of pictures of the Mongolian Steppes. He never thought he'd miss the endless forest planets that they usually ended up on. They didn't come with a biting wind and hardly any shelter.
Next to him, Sheppard shivered as well, shifting closer. He still had the top of his pants and half of one of the legs, while Rodney had lost everything except a small sliver of shirt that was doing nothing to keep out the chill. Not that the extra warmth from Sheppard's leg against his wasn't welcome, but Rodney was in no mood to share anything, let alone body heat.
As the wind swept down over them again, Rodney shivered hugely, the movement bumping Sheppard and almost knocking him over.
"You alright there, buddy?" Sheppard asked, turning a little.
"Oh, don't even try to make this any better," Rodney said, the words slipping past his chattering teeth. "You're going to be sleeping in Siberian quarters for a month when we get back."
"Let's just concentrate on getting back, shall we?" Moving closer again, Sheppard leaned against Rodney. He wasn't much warmer than Rodney himself, but he had more clothing, and even the tiny bit of heat he was giving off was welcome.
Forgetting to be so annoyed for a moment, because even he wasn't idiot enough to take hypothermia over irritation, Rodney leaned back, shivering again and shifting closer.
"Maybe just for a week," he mumbled. "But you'd still better requisition an extra blanket."
"I'll bear that in mind." Sheppard nudged him a little. "Don't go to sleep, okay. Watch our backs."
"Right." Moving awkwardly, Rodney turned so that he had his back to the rock and his shoulder pressed tight against Sheppard's side. A little more shifting around, and they were half-curled around each other, so although Rodney was likely to lose toes to frostbite or similar, at least his core temperature would remain close to what it should be. He stared out at the endless plain, watching the low grass ripple in the wind. "What exactly am I watching again?"
Sheppard gave a huff that might have been laughter, which Rodney felt as much as heard. "Just stay awake, okay?"
"Okay." Rodney watched the grass for another long minute. Then he said, "Sheppard?"
"Yes?"
"We left our packs down in the village, right?"
"Yes."
"There's a space blanket in the bottom of mine."
"Yes?"
Rodney rolled his eyes. "You may be happy to walk into the gateroom wearing nothing but a smile. Again. But some of us have a basic sense of dignity."
This time, the huff was definitely laughter, half-annoyed, half-amused. "Alright, McKay. We'll see what we can do to spare your blushes."
"Good." Nodding firmly, Rodney braced himself against the cold and settled down to watch their backs.
Close Call
Three weeks into the expedition, and Rodney had to face the inevitable. He'd put it off for as long as possible, using his not-inconsiderable ingenuity to avoid the problem, but there was no getting around it.
He had run out of clothes.
It didn't help, of course, that Sheppard had roped him into joining his gate team, despite the fact that Rodney distinctly remembered saying no, because apparently, in Sheppard's world, shaking your head meant yes. But the off-world activity meant that Rodney had gotten through his uniforms quicker than he'd expected, and even he had drawn the line at a fourth outing for a t-shirt that he'd run for his life in. People were starting to look at him funny in the lab.
Mind you, people also looked at him funny in the corridors, although he had worn things other than his standard-issue uniform around the city. Anyone would think they'd never seen a guy in a shirt before. He had to stop at the top of a flight of stairs, fishing in a pocket for the directions he'd written down and trying not to drop the bag of laundry. It was taking him a while to find his way round, and not everything was clearly identifiable yet, but the room he was heading for had been described as the 'remaking' room, so he figured that was probably as good a place to start as any.
Apparently, someone else agreed with him.
"McKay." Sheppard gave him a nod, then went back to peering at the large machine in front of him.
"Is that the washing machine?" Rodney asked, dropping his bag and going over to look. Like him, Sheppard seemed to have run out of uniforms, and was wearing a horrifically checked shirt over pale trousers. And people had stared at Rodney in the hallways.
"I think so." Giving the front a nervous prod, Sheppard shrugged. "It looks sort of like a washer, don't you think?"
"You think?" Maybe if he tilted his head a little and imagined it was white. There was a seam all around the top that definitely suggested it had a lid, and the small panel along the back looked like the controls. "I guess it looks more like a washer than anything else."
"And there's three of them down here." Sheppard nodded towards the two other machines along the wall. "Maybe it's like an Ancient Laundromat."
"Well, there's only one way to find out." Stepping back, Rodney gestured for Sheppard to go ahead.
Sheppard shifted a little. "You don't want to try it out?"
"You were here first."
"You've got more than me."
They looked at each other warily, then Rodney said, "You don't think it's a washer, do you?"
"Neither do you." Sheppard folded his arms. "And it might be."
"Or it might not be." Returning the gesture, Rodney said, "If you don't think it is one, why are you suggesting I go first?"
"I was trying to be polite." When Rodney just raised an eyebrow, Sheppard tried to look clueless. Then his face crumpled a little, in the expression that Rodney was learning to recognize as are you going to make me say it. "Alright, no, I'm not sure. But one of us needs to go first."
"Fine." Rodney held out a hand and Sheppard leaned back a little. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Rodney curled up his fingers and said, "Best of three."
Catching on, Sheppard unfolded enough to nod, then hold out one of his hands, tucking the other behind his back. "Fine. On three?"
"Sure." Rodney clenched his hand into a fist, and waved it in time with Sheppard's. "One, Two- Hang on."
"What?"
"Are we going on three, or after three."
Sheppard stared at him. "It's Rock, Paper, Scissors, McKay."
"I know, but my little sister always used to accuse me of cheating if we didn't agree that right at the start, and as much as I would like to get my clothes washed at some point today, I don't want to lose or win just because-"
"McKay!" Sheppard's rather too-loud voice broke into Rodney's explanation. "We'll go after three, okay?"
"Okay." Settling his shoulders, Rodney put his free hand behind his back and nodded. "Right."
Sheppard won the first, then lost the second to Rodney's paper. Honestly, going for Rock twice in a row was amateur play. Before they counted down the third, Sheppard frowned, then looked up.
"You have a sister?"
"What?" Rodney had been in the middle of tactical planning, and he wondered if Sheppard was just trying to distract him. He waved his free hand irritably. "Oh, yes. On Earth. Obviously." Sheppard was still staring at him. "What?"
"Just trying to imagine a female version of you."
Rolling his eyes, Rodney clenched his hand back into a fist. "Yeah, well, we're not much alike."
"Right." That seemed to settle something for Sheppard, at least, because he looked back down at their hands again. "You ready?"
"Of course." Stretching out his fingers one last time, Rodney started to count. "One, two-"
"Coming through!"
Both Rodney and Sheppard jumped back as someone came hurrying into the room, carrying something large and steaming. No, Rodney realized as he peered closer. Smoking. That couldn't be good.
Close behind the first man came a second, muttering to himself in a language Rodney didn't understand but recognized.
"Zelinky?"
The muttering man stopped so suddenly that Rodney almost jumped. "Zelenka. Doctor McKay. Apologies, but we must get rid of this quickly."
He darted forwards, pulling open the top of the Ancient 'washing machine' and helping the first man to pour the contents into it. Then he closed the lid with a bang and pressed something on the control panel.
"What's going on?" Sheppard asked, not nearly as unruffled as he was trying to sound. Rodney had seen the way his eyes had bulged.
"Failed experiment," Zelanky said shortly, shooting a nervous glance at Rodney. "Will not happen again."
Then the two intruders were gone, leaving Sheppard and Rodney staring at each other and small wisps of smoke escaping from under the lid of the so-not-a-washing-machine.
"So," Sheppard said, sticking his hands in his pockets.
"So." Rodney rubbed his hands on his pants, then reached down to pick up his laundry. "I'm just going to…"
"Yeah. Me too." Retrieving his own basket, Sheppard nodded slowly. "I'll just…"
"Yeah." There was a slightly awkward moment when they both tried to get through the door at once, then they were in the corridor, trying not to look at each other.
Sheppard cracked first, shaking his head and bumping his shoulder against Rodney's, ever so slightly. "See you around, McKay." He set off down the corridor to the right.
"Right." Rodney gave an abortive little wave with his free hand, then hefted his bag again. The washers had to be around here somewhere.
And he was damned if he was going to let Sheppard find them first.