#so here have some John Sheppard with a side of McShep

[sga-owns-my-soul]

Fic Idea Adoption!

i have way too many ideas for fics and i know i won't ever get around to writing them all so i'm putting some ideas up for adoption!! i may or may not write these eventually, but they're too good of ideas to leave sitting in my notes app forever, so i'm releasing them to the void! anyone and everyone is welcome to use them, and feel free to be as ambiguous with the prompts as you want! no particular order but nsfw ideas are at the bottom for anyone who wants to avoid them!

(if you do use any of these, i would love to read the fic!! you definitely do not have to but please feel free to send me anything you write off this list!!)

-john takes rodney to earths moon

-john and rodney find the ancient equivalent of speed. they do Everything

-au where ronon gets earth to repeal dadt bc john tells him it's why he can't be with rodney and ronon goes I Must Fix This (he enlists teyla and lorne and maybe cadman)

-rodney asks ronon to go with john to earth (outcast coda)

-rodney goes on bill nye saves the world after stargate declassification

-evans biggest fear is having to shoot john (and maybe getting a promotion bc of it?) and john finds out

-rodney’s ‘torture too hideous and intimate to recount’ is him being tortured, just for them to realize that torturing his team is a better way to break him

-teyla living out ‘the chosen one’ trope

-what happens to sora after the eye

-au where meredith(female!rodney) comes to atlantis instead of rod and not only is rodney horribly disturbed, he’s furious (and strangely confused) as to why everyone apparently likes him more as a woman

-todd is weirdly obsessed with this strange human he meets, and is determined to get closer to him

-the team is most excited about catching up with todd when they get the confirmation atlantis is going back to pegasus

-everyone complains about rodney’s moods bc no one can complain about the infinitely worse in every way sheppard bad moods, that make everyone on the base wish they were on a hive ship being eaten by two wraith at once

-au where ronon ends up on athos at the same time the wraith come and he sneaks through the gate with the intention of just sneaking away on the next planet but whoops it’s atlantis (ronon pov)

-rodney keeps a memorial for every single scientist lost in his lab and radek shows it to new scientists who start complaining about rodney not caring and risking their lives

-reaper au where’s he’s fed the fuck up with these two stupid men who never actually die when they’re supposed to and it’s more annoying than anything now bc he still needs to show up

-au carson comes to atlantis and is HORRIFIED by becketts retrovirus research and the hoffan drug bc “does the hippocratic oath mean NOTHING here???”

-au where rodney can’t admit to himself what john means to him, until something happens that brings all the alternate rodney’s that have lost their johns to atlantis, and they all fall apart when they see john alive, and john and rodney have to have a Conversation (mcshep? maybe ambiguous? idk yet)

-rodney sees john as three separate entities: the Colonel, who is Professional Important Official Man; sheppard, who is his friend/team lead that he hangs out with and goes on missions with; and john, who he’s always seeming to have very intimate moments with that make him question a lot of how he feels

-early days in the city, elizabeth is sick of the marines shitting on the scientists for not being tough and the scientists for shitting on the marines for not being smart so she makes them try to solve a fake crisis from the other side and everyone is like aww shit this is harder than it looks

-that thing where tough men pretend they don’t care much about someone but then the person gets hurt and Tough Guy go a little feral and then holds them close and whisper pet names (sweetheart, baby, darling, etc) but it’s john and/or ronon after rodney gets injured

-the more important something is to john, the harder it is for him to talk about it, and rodney starts to realize how hard it is for john to talk about what rodney means to him

-a bunch of au sheppards get brought to atlantis and one on them is terrified of flying

-rodney has always said biology was beneath him, but then ford almost died, and was… different, from the wraith. and rodney knew he had to find a way to help ford, maybe find a way to fix his mental problems while keeping the physical benefits. rodney and carson find a way to save ford and sheppard is so thankful he kisses them both

nsfw ideas:

-ronon suggests some planets for trading when they get low on supplies that have an interesting trade system. it seems too good to be true and they wonder why telya hasn't taken them until they find out that they trade goods for sex

-au where john is hired as a spy for atlantis and he seduces people in pegasus to get intel for the city

-sometimes rodney just grabs john (by the hair, throat, back of the neck, chin, etc) and asks who he belongs to and john instantly melts

-rodney decides to be a tease on a mission and teyla and ronon think mckay is just really pissing sheppard off when he pulls mckay away for “privacy” but really he’s just super horny and wants to fuck (or, teyla and ronon don’t realize that their fighting is foreplay)

[mhalachai]

word of the week: Portmanteau

the word of this week is one of those that most people on fandom tumblr use with frequency, but since the term itself has morphed, you might not know it.

So, let's learn!

Portmanteau

Noun, from the French: Porter (v., to carry) + Manteau (n, mantle) - with its origins in the mid 16th century.

1)  a large trunk or suitcase, typically made of stiff leather and opening into two equal parts, either as a trunk (below) or in smaller bag format - the distinction being the two equal sides. Some hard-shell suitcases that open down the middle are technically portmanteaus.

Do you have any idea how hard it was to find a picture on the internet of this thing

and also:

2) a word blending the sounds and combining the meanings of two others, such as:

brunch (breakfast + lunch)

motel (motor + hotel)

spork (spoon + fork)

podcast (iPod + broadcast)

cosplay (costume + roleplay)

Etc.

Portmanteaus exist in every language*, as there is nothing humans love more than making up new words to describe things. Wikipedia has some examples.

*Probably, haven’t done a comprehensive review of all human languages, but I'm going on odds of humans being human

And here is where the fandom connection really kicks into overdrive:

Ship names

some examples:

Sculder: Scully/Mulder from X-Files

Sterek: Stiles/Derek from Teen Wolf

Every possible pairing in the Untamed (WangXian, XiYao, NieLan)

Destiel: Dean/Castiel from Supernatural

McShep: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard from Stargate Atlantis

SwanQueen: Emma/Regina from Once Upon a Time

and then the MCU with their Stucky and Stony and Clintasha and WinterFalcon and Pepperony and FrostIron ETCETERA

There are some portmanteaus in the original Star Trek, but i'm one of the fans that prefer not to use Spirk.

Seriously, they're everywhere, and TV Tropes has gone to town in detailing them all:

The portmanteau as couple name

In film

In TV

So now you know!

Tell me about your favourite portmanteau in the replies.

Until next week,

[rodneymckays]

just got to miller’s crossing in my first watch of sga and holy shit. i am going to break glass with my bare hands. do they even know what they did here with this episode?!?

ALSKJDHASF anon, u perfectly put into words how that episode makes me feel. absolutely the most INSANE 44 MINUTES OF TELEVISION I HAVE EVER WITNESSED. it's just So Much. they had to have known!!!

i love miller's crossing for what it says about john. here is a man who will do literally anything to keep a person he loves safe. even if it means convincing a man to kill himself. and i love how john's actual morality, as shown in this episode, stands in stark contrast to a "hero's" morality. especially because, alongside the viewer, i feel like some characters within the story can't help but perceive him as a heroic figure, or at least, someone who embodies a lot of the typical attributes. EXCEPT FOR THIS BLARING DIFFERENCE (which endears me to him greatly :))) he's willing to sacrifice himself for others, but not his friends)

and then, speaking strictly mcshep, that conversation they have when rodney asks john's permission to feed himself to the wraith???? like 1) what does it say about ur relationship that u feel like u need to ask john FIRST before u save ur sister's life???? 2) DO U REALLY THINK JOHN IS GONNA SAY YES RODNEY?? not to mention JOHNS WHOLE FACE THAT ENTIRE SCENE. opening his mouth, but being unable to say whats on his mind. using their respective ranks ("you wanna talk about chain of command right now??") to create some (any) semblance of distance between them so he doesn't have to acknowledge his feelings in the matter. or maybe because he just can't verbalize that he doesn't want rodney to die. or worse, he thinks his feelings won't be enough to change rodney's mind, and falls back on command structure as a last resort. either way u interpret it, its PAINFUL. so much pining repressed john.

and on rodney's side, that end scene!!! the way rodney wants to understand what john did and asks him about it. but doesn't push when he doesn't want to talk about it. and just accepts it as normal person behaviour, at least for john. the obliviousness!!! AND EVEN THANKS HIM?? RODNEY, THANKING JOHN FOR A RESCUE??? despite how objectively fucked up it was??? be still my heart!

the big moments are so Big but the small moments get to me too. like, john playing with madison for .5 seconds on screen KILLS ME DEAD every time.

its not only the penultimate mcshepisode in my eyes, but an amazing john sheppard character study, as well. so glad it made u as feral as it made me when i watched it for the first time 😂

[dedkake]

What's zero to one-hundred???

zero to one-hundred is my treasured wip 💖 i have in fact just completed a full draft of it, and it’s clocking in at over 31k, making it the longest fic i’ve ever written by far. it is in need of heavy editing, likely some additions, possibly some serious trimming, but i am attempting to give it some time to settle and my brain some distance before i make an attempt.

i have spoken about this fic online before. many times. and i have always described it by explaining john’s side of things. but i think i’m going to keep that a secret from now on, as rodney has no fcking clue. you will figure it out with him.

it is a canon-compliant mcshep fic, in which rodney makes some assumptions, hurts everybody’s feelings, and eventually, post-series, starts figuring his shit out. it will be tagged: friends to lovers (to friends to lovers).

here’s just a little bit of some dumb boys:

“What?” Rodney asks, trying his best not to be distracted by the way the duffel is pulling Sheppard’s shirt down his shoulder, the pale strip of skin near his neck it reveals. “No, of course not. It’s just—about the other day. In the infirmary.”

“Hey,” Sheppard says, stopping so they’re just out of view of the main corridor. “Don’t worry about it. Just a thing that happened—adrenaline and spur of the moment stuff. It can have that kind of effect.”

Rodney almost jumps when Sheppard reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder, solid and warm and squeezing just enough that it leaves Rodney with an ache in the pit of his stomach.

“It won’t happen again,” Sheppard says, like saying something like that will make it true.

[valdomarx]

time enough for counting (when the dealing's done)

McShep + Vegas fix-it, requested by @beautifulmonster. 2k, rated M.

Bad beat

John had always known it would end like this. 

Well, the space aliens and the shady government organization had been a surprise. But the bleeding out, alone in the desert - yeah, that was always how he was going to go.

There’s a kind of dark satisfaction in seeing the world turn out exactly as shitty and brutal as you knew it would be. Called it.

His moment of sick vindication is interrupted, though, by a figure standing over him and peering down with cursory interest.

Sharp black suit, spotless even in the heat and the muck. Hands in pockets, head quirked in something that might be amusement. “Should have known you’d pull a stunt like this,” it says, and John would smirk at playing to type but the blood loss pulls him under.

Ante up

He wakes to pain. Vicious, lancing pain and the cloying smell of antiseptic and the beeping of monitors. He tries to sit up and his chest screams until he collapses back onto the bed.

Next to him, a slightly rumpled McKay is tapping furiously at a laptop. “Don’t go dying on me now, Sheppard,” he says without looking up. “I’ve got plans for you.”

Buy-in

The next time he wakes, the light has faded. It must be evening. 

The hospital room - his own private room, he realizes - is nice. Far too nice for the local joint. Must be private. Must have cost someone a pretty penny. He would have told whoever it is to save their cash.

“You’re awake. Good.” McKay strides in, less rumpled now. Neat black suit back in perfect order. “I don’t have much time, so listen up.”

He tells John how they destroyed the Wraith target before he could get a message to his buddies in Pegasus. How this universe is safe, but the spacetime rift has sent that information echoing through other universes. How they’re putting together a team to visit these other universes; warn them, offer to help if they can.

How he’ll be leaving in a few hours to head up the program. How he thinks John might be able to help.

John blinks. His eyelids are sticky and his mouth is full of fluff.

“Why the hell would you bring this to me?”

McKay flashes him an enigmatic smile. “You did save the world. Maybe you’re more of a hero than you realize.”

On the flop

He gets unceremoniously booted out of the hospital a few days later, when it becomes obvious that he’s not going to die and whoever was bankrolling his stay isn’t any more.

His car is totaled. The money inside is gone. He’s got the clothes on his back, a mountain of debt, no job, and -

He sticks a hand into the pocket of his jacket. There’s something in there: a neat rectangle of card which reads, Doctor Rodney McKay, PhD PhD. Don’t call me, I’ll call you. There’s no phone number.

He heads for the nearest motel he can find, picks up two bottles of rotgut whiskey, and drinks until he manages to pass out amid the sounds of yelling and the scuttering of cockroaches. 

Into the muck

Whatever the fuck else might be going on in the world, there is always the constant: 52 cards, 4 suits, the flick of the dealer’s wrist as he lays out your fortunes, the wins and the loses and the ones where you came oh so close.

He’s back at Mikey’s within a week, borrowing more to get out ahead of this debt, even though he knows that’s never going to work.

Maybe it’ll be different this time. Maybe he can win what he needs, pay off the people he has to, and use the rest to make a start somewhere other than here. Anywhere other than this desert full of chips and blood and corpses and filth.

It’s going to be a good night, he tells himself as he settles into a squeaky plastic chair at a low-roller table and looks around at his competition. Tourists and chumps, and he can take these guys no problem.

Pot-committed

He’s woken by a shrill ringing. His head feels like he’s stuck it in a cement mixer and his mouth tastes like cheap whiskey and puke. He rolls over, covers his ears with a ratty pillow, and ignores it.

The ringing continues. What the fuck? It’s a phone. It keeps ringing. He doesn’t own a phone.

Whoever the fuck is calling is still going, so with a groan he sits up and, bleary-eyed, looks for the phone. He finds it in his jacket pocket, and he’s almost certain it wasn’t there last night.

“Yeah?” he says as he answers it. “What do you want?”

“Sheppard,” a crisp, familiar voice says. “I’ve got a job for you.”

Sheppard closes his eyes. The last thing he needs right now is a world-ending crisis. “Can’t,” he says shortly. “I’ve got… business to attend to.”

McKay snorts. “Another fortune to lose at the poker table? I’m sure you do.” John can hear judgement radiating down the phone line. Then McKay sighs and softens. “Tell you what, meet me and hear me out, and I’ll see what I can do about clearing that off-the-books debt for you.”

That pings John’s bullshit meter, for sure, because that much money doesn’t get casually tossed around even in defense circles. But McKay gives him the address of a pancake place to meet for breakfast and what the hell, he does like pancakes.

Check in the dark

“We keep running into you,” McKay says, shoveling maple syrup-covered pancakes into his mouth with great enthusiasm. “Or, well, other versions of you. Practically every universe we’ve visited so far, you’re leading the team.”

John raises an eyebrow. Not much surprises him any more, but parallel realities strain even his credulity.

“It would be easier,” McKay continues, “if you were with us. You could help us explain. People trust you.”

John jerks back like McKay has slipped a knife between his ribs. McKay doesn’t seem to notice, or perhaps he does notice and is tactful or manipulative enough not to acknowledge it.

“Come work with me. We’d need to get you some -” he gestures with a fork, “- training, obviously. But you could be useful. You could do some good.”

John shifts in his seat. “I can’t just leave.”

McKay scowls at him. “Right, because you’ve got so many compelling reasons to stay.”

Gutshot

He ends up in some anonymous Air Force bunker in Colorado, of all places, and being around so much military life has his hackles rising. He’s deposited in a blank, windowless room with a desk covered in stacks of carefully redacted mission reports from the Stargate program which he reads voraciously because this is wild, this is unbelievable, but it’s also all true.

McKay finds him a few days later, lounging in the doorway as impeccable as ever. John is suddenly very aware of the fact he’s been sleeping in his clothes.

“Keeping busy?” McKay asks, voice dripping with condescension and something else John doesn’t want to put his finger on.

John nibbles the pen he’s holding as he considers how to answer that, and he notices the way McKay’s eyes flick to his mouth. Ahh. Interesting.

“Staying out of trouble, at least,” he drawls, letting his posture slacken so he’s lounging against the back of the chair and his knees are spread wide. It’s been a while but he knows how to play this game. 

McKay walks around to his side of the desk, each step measured and precise. Not too fast, no sudden movements, a predator lining up for the kill. John tilts his head back and bares his neck, because he knows how to play the role of prey. McKay perches on the edge of the desk between his legs, looks down his nose, and says, “Somehow I doubt that.”

“I can behave.” He looks up from under his lashes. It’s not exactly subtle, but fuck it, they’re way past that by now. “When properly motivated.”

McKay leans in, all sharp smiles and gleaming edges, and John shudders. McKay notices and the sharp edges of his smile glistens. 

“I know you can, Sheppard,” McKay says in a low voice that has the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. “I told you before. I know everything about you.”

Damn the man, John thinks, and then McKay winds his fingers into John's hair and yanks him in for a hot, messy kiss and John stops thinking altogether. 

Afterwards, as he makes vain attempts to pull up his shirt collar to hide the bite marks and to wipe the come stains off the classified military files, John reflects that he may truly be in over his head this time.

Under the gun

A stack of paperwork drops onto his desk with a dull thud. He looks up to find the scowling face of Major Davis.

“Consultant,” Davis says, chilly as ice. “That’s what the Pentagon is willing to offer. You’ll get a salary and accommodation, and in return you’ll help Doctor McKay with his research while he’s on Earth.”

John opens his mouth, though whether it’s to say thank you, to tell Davis to go fuck himself, or to ask for more money, he isn’t sure. Davis holds up a hand to stop him before he can find out.

“I advised against it, given your record. But McKay is a real pain in the ass when he wants to be. So this is what’s on the table. Take it or leave it.”

Tell

McKay’s brow is furrowed and he’s fiddling with some piece of machinery (probably alien, John thinks, and it seems that sort of thing is part of his life now). It blinks to life for a moment before the lights on the top fade away, and McKay swears and bangs it on the table.

“Hey, easy, Chewie,” John chides.

McKay’s eyes narrow. “I thought you said you didn’t like science fiction.”

“Star Wars isn’t science fiction. It’s science fantasy.”

McKay actually smiles at that, something joyous leaping up in the corners of his mouth.

“Knew you were a nerd,” McKay says under his breath, and John punches him playfully in the shoulder. He’s defending his honor, or something.

McKay ducks his head, and a blush creeps up the back of his neck.

Ace high

“I’ve got a surprise for you.” McKay looks even smugger than usual. 

“Yeah?” John slips a leer into the syllable.

But McKay just rolls his eyes. “Not like that. Come on, there’s something I want you to see.”

He leads him down through the base to a lower level, through endless security checks and into a dark hanger. There’s some technology they’ve acquired from an off-world source, he explains, deliberately vague. He’s trying to make some modifications to it, and he thinks John can help with testing.

John has learned to expect the unexpected in this place, but when the lights of the hanger flicker on his breath still catches. It illuminates a ship unlike anything he’s seen before: slick and cylindrical, rear hatch open to show seats and consoles inside.

“It’s fitted with inertial dampers, weapons, a shield,” McKay says breezily. “Oh, and you’ll like this.” He flicks a button on a control and the ship disappears in a haze like hot air. “It’s got a cloak too.”

It’s like something out of a movie, and John is struck speechless. He follows wide-eyed as McKay decloaks the ship to lead them inside and gestures for him to sit.

And woah, the moment he sits the chair glows and a holographic interface springs up in front of him, and he can feel the ship in his mind. He reaches out with a thought and - ping - the display shows a schematic of the hanger.

“Knew you’d be a natural,” McKay says, managing to sound both condescending and delighted. “Want to take her for a spin?”

Yes, everything in him screams, but he thinks about flames and smoke and the shrill, piercing whine of a tail rotor failing, and he grits his teeth against it and says, “I don’t fly any more,” instead.

McKay gives him a long, cool look. 

“We’ll start small,” McKay says, all business, and it’s so easy to relax and follow his lead. “I need you to activate the inertial dampeners while I adjust the shield field strength.”

Okay. Okay. He can do that.

The ship whirs to life.

Short stack

John stares at the blank white walls of his apartment.

It’s better than most places he’s lived in. No roaches, for a start, and it’s clean and has its own kitchen.

But it’s infuriatingly bland, and Colorado is infuriatingly empty, and there’s not so much as a slot machine within an hour’s drive and he is climbing the walls here.

McKay has disappeared on one of those weeks-long missions he can’t or won’t tell John about, and there’s a restless itching under his skin that’s urging him to drink or gamble or fuck or something, and this whole planet seems too small and too constrictive but he doesn’t want to climb under a blanket of booze and drain it all away.

He wants more.

On the river

“Modifications are done,” McKay announces. “Shall we test her out?”

The we makes something squirm in John’s gut but he dismisses it with a lazy, “It’s your alien spaceship.”

McKay looks for a moment like he’s going to say something, but then he pulls out a radio and talks into that instead. “This is Gate Ship One, ready for initial shield test burst.”

“Gate Ship One?” John scoffs. “That’s the best you could come up with?”

“It’s a ship that goes through the gate,” McKay pouts, and damn, that’s kind of cute. “Why, what would your suggestion be?”

John tilts his head. He’s seen footage of the ship traveling through the stargate, leaping through the event horizon and leaving barely a ripple in its wake. “Seems more like a puddle jumper to me.”

“You have the soul of a poet,” McKay says acerbically. 

And damn if that’s not kind of cute too.

Dealer’s choice

“Come with me,” McKay says, and John is ready to say yes before he’s even finished speaking. “To Pegasus. To Atlantis. I need to get back there, and I’m sure we can find a way to make you useful.” A little smirk at the end there.

“I don’t know how the Pentagon is going to feel about that,” John says, deliberately languid to hide the way his heart is pounding in his chest. Escape, adventure, somewhere new, somewhere he could be a new person, and he wants it so much it aches.

“Eh, fuck them. They can’t say no to me.”

“Okay,” he shrugs. “Not like I’ve got anything better to do here.”

McKay gives him a look that shoots straight through his defenses and down to his sticky innards. “Yeah, okay,” he says, and it’s soft in a way that makes the ache in John’s chest twist into a deep burn.

All in

The jumper hovers in the air in front of the stargate. 

“Nervous?” McKay asks, carefully casual, like he doesn’t already know the answer.

John hums. The inside of the jumper feels as much like home as any place he knows. What’s another galaxy to a man with no ties?

“You’re going to love it there,” McKay says with a smile he can’t hide. He dials up the gate and it engages with a tremendous whoosh and a burst of brilliant blue light.

Here goes nothing, he thinks as McKay deploys the drive pods and fires up the engines. One last new start. 

[ragingpancake]

McShep prompt: no regrets?

Thank you so much for the prompt! @gingerpolyglot I really appreciate you sending this to me!

The pain in his shoulder radiates outward until his whole arm feels like it’s on fire. They need to operate, to clean up the mess of splintered bone, fragments of bullet, but he refuses to let them put him under, not yet. Not when Ronon, Teyla and Rodney have yet to come back through the Gate. It’s only because he’d lost consciousness at some point or another that he’s here, pacing the gate room despite the way each painful step threatens to bring to him to tears. No one is talking, refusing to give up whichever Marine it had actually been who had dragged him through the Gate, leaving the rest of John’s people on the other side. Likely because they knew the soldier wouldn’t escape unscathed for ignoring the single, most important rule: we don’t leave people behind. It was meant to be a routine mission. A quick return to M5-X385 to check in on the Zamains and make sure they were settling in okay to their new settlement. It’d been fine at first, a cake walk really, until some faction of the old Zamani militia, pissed at being removed from their previous plant (despite the fact that it was, you know, showing signs of the beginning of an actual ice age), showed up. Their weapons were primitive, but effective. A bullet had caught him in the shoulder and while bullets had never taken John down before, the damn rock that conked him on the head from the damn trebuchet definitely had. He never would have left them. Never.

Ronon and Teyla, they could take care of themselves, John knew that. But Rodney… Rodney, who was never meant to be a soldier, Rodney who, most days couldn’t even get a handle on his own P-90… Rodney, who John had sworn to protect at all costs and not because he was honor bound to do so, but because… well, because it was Rodney, was still out there. He trusted Teyla and Ronon with his own life, trusted them with every single person on this base, but… But. Rodney. “Dial the gate, Chuck,” he snarls up to the control room, yanking the sling that Keller had fitted him with temporarily from around his neck and he has to bite back a strangled cry at the way it jostles his arm. He somehow manages to keep up that stoic façade, despite the pain, despite the worry gnawing away at his stomach. “Disregard that command, Chuck,” another voice rings out and John turns, glaring daggers at Colonel Carter. “I said dial the gate!” Sam takes the steps down into the Gate room two at a time, closing the distance between them, her own jaw set. “I let you convince me to allow you to remain out here until they get back, John, but I’m not letting you do this. You’re in no condition—” “They’re my people!” He bellows, “and if you think for one second that I’m going to—” The gate sounds, loud and echoing in the Gate Room and Carter steps back, pulling John with her. “I’m reading Teyla’s IDC!” Chuck calls down and John whirls on him angrily. “Lower the damn shield!” The moment it’s down, the trio comes running through the event horizon, followed closely by the marines Carter had sent in as reinforcements. Once everyone is through, the shield reactivates a split second before the gate dies and John realizes he’s been holding his breath. It comes out in a whoosh as he pushes through the small crowd, good arm gripping Rodney’s shoulder and it hits him in this moment that he could have lost Rodney and he thinks his knees are maybe about to give out when the scientist turns to him, blue eyes wide as he pulls John in for a bone crushing hug. “Oh thank God! I thought you died!” And John can’t stifle the cry that tears from his mouth this time as his shoulder explodes with pain. When he goes to his knees, Rodney follows him, careful to ease him down as Keller weaves her way through the group, medical team right behind her with a gurney meant for John. “I—I shouldn’t have left you,” John rasps as hands grab at him, but he pushes them away, eyes never leaving Rodney’s. “You went down so fast and, and, and there was blood and—” It’s Rodney’s hand this time on either side of John’s face. “I thought you died,” he says again and it’s too much in this moment, with the way Rodney’s looking at him and John can’t breathe and--. “Colonel,” Keller says urgently. “This can’t wait any longer. We need to get that shoulder--.” He doesn’t hear anything else though because he leans forward, shoulder be damned, and crushes his lips against Rodney’s. He savors it for about a half a second before he feels a prick in his arm and everything starts to go sideways. “Sheppard—” Rodney says as Keller’s team manhandles him onto the gurney and John can only watch through hazy vision as Teyla and Ronon help Rodney to his feet, Ronon’s hand clamped firmly on Rodney’s shoulder as if to keep him from chasing after him. I’m gonna beat the shit out of him later for that, John thinks, but it’s the last thought he has before darkness claims him. --- He wakes up in the infirmary and unsurprisingly, he’s not alone. Ronon’s sitting in the chair next to his bed, legs propped up on the edge while Teyla is at his feet, hands rubbing his ankle through the blanket. Rodney’s up somewhere near his head and John can feel the weight of his hand on his good shoulder. “’Thought you were gonna sleep forever,” Ronon says, dropping his feet and letting his chair tip back on to all four legs. “You should not have delayed your surgery, John,” Teyla admonishes gently and he wishes that they would at least wait until he’s fully awake before the

lectures start. “Yeah, but if he hadn’t, the whole Gate Room wouldn’t have gotten that show.” John blinks at Ronon maybe a little dumbly as Rodney’s cheeks pinken slightly. “Wha’—” John clears his throat. “What show?” “Oh, you know, the one where you tried to make out with McKay in front of everyone.” “Ronon,” Teyla chastises, but he grins at John. “Clearly, it was some sort of mixed reaction to the adrenaline decrease and, and, and probably blood loss,” Rodney explains and John can read it all over his face, even slightly high, that he thinks there has to be some reasonable explanation other than the fact that John just wanted to kiss him. Plain and simple. That he’s wanted to for the longest damn time, maybe since the first time Rodney showed him the Puddle Jumpers. The problem was never Rodney, it was always John, too emotionally stunted and stupid to act on what he wanted until he thought he might never get it again. “We don’t need to keep harping on it and embarrassing the Colonel,” Rodney huffs but he slouches down in his chair a little miserably. “No regrets, McKay,” John says, and he would shrug like it was no big deal if he thought he could move his shoulder without puking all over his team. But it has its desired effect because Rodney sits up so quickly that he very nearly drops his tablet. “I—what?” “Well,” John amends, feeling his eyelids growing heavier by the moment, “maybe just one.” His head lulls to the side and he gives Rodney a lopsided smile. “Probably shoulda done that sooner.” And Ronon laughs out loud, clapping his hands together like this is the best thing he’s ever heard. “Told you!” He crows. “I told you! You owe me a beer!” Teyla rolls her eyes but she does so with a smile as she rises, swatting Ronon’s legs. “We should leave you to rest, John. I am very glad that you are alright.” Ronon is still grinning broadly, even as Teyla ushers him away, but not before he claps Rodney on his shoulder roughly. “Did you… do you mean that?” Rodney asks, oddly quiet and John doesn’t know when his eyes closed, but he has to open them again to squint up at Rodney. “S’it alright with you if I do?” “Oh, yes. Of course, I just, uh. It’s just that… which is to say um, you’re youand I’m me and I just uhh… can we perhaps try again? Sometime soon? For scientific reasons, of course.” “Rodney,” John murmurs. “Hmm?” “Shut up.” “Right. Yes. Shutting up now.” It lasts for all of two seconds. “Really though? Are you sure? You literally just outed yourself in front of the entire expedition and, and, and—” “I know,” John says and he’s so close to falling back asleep. “Still. No regrets.” “Huh,” is the last thing John hears before the darkness claims him once more.

[frankthesnek]

12 or 18 for McShep for the prompt list, pretty please!

Thank you for the prompt ☺ Already did 12: Things you said when you thought I was asleep so that just means...

18: Things you said when you were scared

Darkness. That's all there was surrounding them. Darkness and damp stone walls. 

Getting captured had been stupid. John still couldn't believe he'd let his guard down long enough to let it happen, but here they were. Captured and thrown into a jail cell so small a broom closet would feel like an open floor plan house.

Squeezed in behind him was Rodney. He could feel the other man's back moving, his chest rising and falling in quick rattling breaths.

"This is--this is it," Rodney muttered, voice tight with panic. "This is where I'm going to die. I'm going to suffocate in here, do you have any idea how little air is in a room this size?"

"We are not going to die here," John reassured firmly. "The others are still out there somewhere. They'll get us out."

"But not fast enough! We'll be out of air before then."

"I doubt this cell is air tight McKay," John said calmly. 

"But what if it is? The stone work looked really sound. And did you see how many doors we passed on the way here! There are hundreds of these god forsaken boxes--they won't find us, they won't! This is it, we're going to die here."

The other man was trembling violently, John could feel it against his back. "McKay, you have to calm down."

"Do you have any idea how pointless it is to tell someone facing a phobia to calm down! It's an irrational fear Colonel, if I could calm down it wouldn't be a phobia!" Rodney screamed, voice high pitched and echoing against the confines of the cell.

"I get that McKay, but you need to--"

"No, no you don't get it," Rodney interrupted, and there was the sound of scratching as he palmed and clawed at the wall he was crammed up against. 

"What are you doing?" John asked and listened for a moment longer, feeling the shift of Rodney's body along with the sound he put it together and frowned. "Stop that you're going to hurt yourself."

"I have to do something!" Rodney squeaked desperately. "Oh God there are so many things I haven't gotten to do. Like, like…"

There was a pause and utter quiet for a few beats. John was relieved thinking Rodney had somehow come across a train of thought that had calmed him down. 

"Sheppard--John," the other man finally spoke again.

John hummed and shifted to glance over his shoulder, not that he could see anything in the dark.

"I think--I think I'm in love with you. I think I have been for a while."

"McKay stop," John huffed, rolling his eyes.

"I'm a dying man! And if I want to confess my love before I die then I get to do that, because what if by some miracle you feel the same way, and I never said anything, and we both just went on thinking we could never have anything--not that it matters now. We're both going to die and you don't love me and none of this matters...oh God does the air seem thin to you?"

The horrible scratchy sound of Rodney pawing the wall was back and John grit his teeth. He was pissed for two reasons now. 

One, because they were in this situation and Rodney couldn't calm down. And two, of all the times he picked now to say something?

John grunted and started shifting. He had no space to work with and it wasn't easy, but he managed to turn around so his front was pressed to Rodney's back.

"Rodney," he said, trying to be as gentle as he could. He didn't have much space to move but he managed to get his hands up enough to grab Rodney's sides, gripping the solidness of his ribs. 

"I love you," Rodney sobbed.

"Stop it," John demanded.

"No I do, I'm sure now. You see, you realize things when you're dying and probably oxygen deprived and I--"

"Stop!" John hissed, squeezing his hands against Rodney's ribs. "I don't want to hear another word about this 'I love you' crap. Not here, not like this. When we get out of here--because we will get out--then you can tell me. That's when I want to hear it, when it's you talking, not the claustrophobia."

"You mean that?" Rodney asked, voice small and weak.

"Yes, Rodney I mean it. And that means I can't die here and neither can you. So just, calm down." John stroked his fingers over Rodney's sides in small circles, the most comforting gesture he could manage in their current position.

John felt the other man take a few deep breaths and slowly, slowly he started to relax.

[chaos-monkeyy]

In amongst the evergreens

Winter Prompt Challenge ❄️ Day 7: Evergreens

Back to Pegasus, with the first smut fill (it was only a matter of time, let’s be honest) - some more McShep for @diuretic-dandelions​ 💙🌲❄️😁

Oh. It’s Christmas, Rodney thought— though whether that had sprung into his mind because of the familiar, incredibly spruce-tree-like smell of the incredibly spruce-tree-like tree he’d just been shoved into, or if it was because of the slightly less familiar, absolute gift that was Sheppard’s mouth closing around his cock, he couldn’t really have said. Maybe both. 

“Jesus christ, Sheppard,” Rodney tried to say, although it was so garbled by the strangled gasp that burst from his lungs at the same time, he wasn’t sure the words were actually intelligible. “You really are freaking… insatiable.” 

Sheppard’s hot, wet mouth popped back off Rodney’s rapidly-stiffening cock with a truly obscene slurp that sent a heated jolt of arousal through Rodney’s core in a very weird, not-quite-uncomfortable, sharp counterpoint to the freezing cold air on his spit-wet dick. 

“I told you, call me John,” Sheppard complained, pouting up at him with that stupidly adorable furrow in his brow. “It’s weird when you say Sheppard while we’re fucking.” 

“Well, it feels more weird using your first name, okay. I mean, that’s what Teyla and Weir call you, I just— oh fuck, Shep- John- Jesus—” 

He was pretty sure he felt Sheppard— John— actually laughing around his cock, the smug bastard, but it sure didn’t detract from his, er, technique in the slightest. Rodney couldn’t manage to form any more coherent words at that point anyway, so he just closed his eyes and groaned instead, tilting his head back into the branches of his little christmassy-tree, the pointy needles scratching lightly against one side of his face. Sheppard wasn’t even using his hands, instead just gripping Rodney’s ass hard, lips tight and sliding quickly up and down his shaft— and he was doing something with his tongue that made Rodney’s legs quiver harder on every stroke. 

And every time Sheppard pulled back, the brief flash of cold air sent a fresh, conflicted jolt of pleasure and temperature shock straight to his core, with the end result that it took an almost embarrassingly short time before Rodney felt himself hurtling towards the brink of release. Although, that could also have been due to the thrill of being outside with the risk of being caught like this; on-mission (it was a dull mission, in fairness), Rodney with his dick out in the middle of the snowy evergreen forest (but a very dense evergreen forest, really) and Sheppard on his knees sucking him off like both their lives depended on it (actually, Rodney thought this whole escapade might just kill him anyway). 

“Fuck, Shep- John, I’m gonna— I’m gonna come—” Rodney gasped, finally opening his eyes again and looking down, his gaze riveted to the incredible sight of his own stiff cock disappearing into Sheppard’s mouth. 

Sheppard hummed around him, sucking harder and looking up expectantly, fingers digging into Rodney’s ass cheeks hard enough to hurt even through the thick material of his pants; and the heat coiling in Rodney’s gut tightened and burst. He jammed a gloved hand into his own mouth to muffle his uncontrollable, shuddering moans as he spilled out into the wet heat of Sheppard’s mouth, cock throbbing and twitching with each pulse of release and his legs shaking so badly that his knees almost gave way under him. 

He actually did have to catch himself, leaning on Sheppard’s shoulder with one hand, swaying on his feet and panting out little whimpers into his own fist as John worked him through the last of his orgasm. 

And he was still panting and trembling when Sheppard finally pulled off a few moments later, carefully tucked his wet, spent cock away for him, and then stood up again with a pleased groan, an entirely self-satisfied little smirk— and an extremely blatant tent in his pants. 

“What— what about you?” Rodney managed to ask. 

Instead of answering, Sheppard pulled him into a long, filthy kiss, hard cock pressing into Rodney’s hip, tongue pressing into his mouth and still coated with the taste of his own come. 

Rodney might have whimpered. 

“Believe me,” Sheppard finally growled against his lips. “If I thought we had the time, I’d already be bending you over right here.” 

Rodney whimpered again, his breath hitching and his softening cock giving a last hopeful, feeble twitch at the mere thought of Sheppard doing that to him… here. 

“Well,” he said hoarsely, clearing his throat. “Maybe next time, we ought to… You know. Come prepared? Cause, I, uh, well, as much as I’d like that, I didn’t exactly… pack supplies, y’know,” he said with a breathless attempt at a casually airy laugh, and a blush that could probably melt snow. If he hadn’t already knocked it all off the branches around him, anyway. 

Sheppard smirked at him. “And what makes you think I didn’t?” he asked, casually adjusting his hard-on through his pants and bending to swat the snow off his knees. 

Rodney, having just tugged one glove off with his teeth so he could actually do his fly back up, stopped halfway through the process and stared. “You— I— what? Did you?” 

“Sheppard,” came Ronon’s voice, floating up from the radio on the colonel’s hip, “we’re heading back. Nothing interesting over here.” 

“Same,” Sheppard answered, raising the radio to his lips and still watching Rodney with that infuriatingly knowing smile he got. “Call the other teams back, too. We’ll all rendezvous back at the first turnoff and head back to the gate from there. See you guys in a few minutes.” 

He clipped the radio back onto his belt and started back the way they’d come. Cursing under his breath, Rodney finished zipping up, fumbling his uniform back into place. “Hang on, just— give me a second, would you?” he called, the words muffled around his glove. 

“Hurry up,” Sheppard tossed back over his shoulder. Rodney could hear the smug smirk in his voice. “The sooner we’re back to Atlantis, the sooner we get to the part where I bend you over something and fuck all those brains of yours straight out your ears again.” 

… Rodney hurried up. 

[raybyanothername]

SGA Secret Santa - The Handler

An 4x15 "Outcast" AU in which Rodney went along to the wake and Dave - in true Big Brother fashion - sees through John like he's a wet piece of paper.

Written for xRinsexRepeatx in the Stargate Atlantis Secret Santa 2019 fic exchange.

The original request was for a McShep fic with maybe a little fluff or something kind of new in either a canon-compliant or canon-adjacent AU - so I racked my brain and remembered that I'd gone searching for an Outcast AU with Rodney a few months back and hadn't been able to find one. This is my attempt to fill that void with a little bit of McShep and a little bit of the Sheppard Brothers.

~.~.~

John walked up to the house with two men. Dave blinked when he caught sight of his little brother. His shoulders were low as he approached. Dave broke off from whichever incessant brown-noser he’d been half-listening to go meet his brother.

“John,” Dave held out his hand, “I wasn’t sure you were going to make it.” John shook his hand, a tight smile spreading over his face. “Good to see you.”

Dave looked to the left at the taller man beside John – dreadlocks, facial hair, he held himself like a military man but Dave doubted he served in the Air Force. The man to the right was worse - shorter, balding, he looked more like an accountant than a soldier.

“I contacted your unit commander at Peterson, but, uh,” Dave looked back to John now, “Those messages don’t always seem to reach you.”

John shuffled his feet, “Well…I came as soon as I heard.” Dave smiled tightly, nodded, looked at the tall man beside John. “This is Ronon, and Rodney,” John gestured out to each man respectively before his hands returned immediately to his pockets.

Dave’s lips quirked up – he shoved down a memory of John in his prep school uniform trying to blend in with the other freshman – and shook each man’s hand. He gave Ronon credit, the man kept a neutral expression through the awkward tension that was emanating from Dave and his brother. The same could not be said for Rodney, who had a perplexed expression on his face as he looked Dave up and down.

“You three,” Dave looked from each man to the next, “You all work in the Air Force? Together?” Rodney’s face scrunched up in disgust.

“What’s that suppo-“

“They're civilian contractors.” John cut Rodney off, mid-sputtering and scowl. Dave raised an eyebrow, looked at John, who avoided eye contact as he pursed his lips. Their rhetoric teacher would have been displeased.

“Right.” Dave sighed. “Anyway, John,” Dave forced eye contact with his brother, “I think we should probably talk.”

John nodded, looked at his feet. He dragged his eyes back up to Dave’s, “Yeah.” Behind him, Rodney was rolling his eyes.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” Dave turned away, bit his bottom lip as he forced himself not to tack on ‘alone.’ Whether the men were actually civilian contractors didn’t really matter to Dave, he didn’t know them, he didn’t trust them.

He could probably say the same for John actually, with how long it had been since the two had spoken face to face, but… Dave looked over his shoulder to see his little brother talking to the animated Rodney.

“And you say my ability to communicate with my sister is stunted?” Rodney’s voice carried on the wind and Dave couldn’t help but grin as John’s face puckered up like a peach.

Little brothers don’t really change all that much and Dave could handle John.

-.-.-

“That’s what he does, he handles things.” John shrugged, looking away from where he’d glanced towards his brother.

Rodney narrowed his eyes on John as Ronon asked another question, “How come you never mentioned him before?” Rodney’s eyes did not flutter, he merely….blinked. Rapidly.

John had only mentioned Dave Sheppard once in their whole time knowing one another – and even then it had been a guilt-trip meant to push Rodney into talking to his sister.

“Wait…” Rodney drew both Ronon and John’s eyes, “When was the last time you were home?” Rodney twisted his hand in the air, trying to indicate more than just this mansion and estate.

John shuffled his feet. Ronon’s lips pursed together to hide a smile.

“A few years…” Rodney raised an eyebrow. John continued, “Before I got stationed in Antarctica.”

Rodney chuckled derisively, “Of course, because you’re the biggest hypocrite on the planet.” John blushed as Rodney stuck his finger in his face, “Don’t think I won’t bring this up the next time you bug me about calling Jeannie.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” John held up his hands in surrender as Rodney stalked off in search of food.

Ronon leaned over, grinning, “So…you told *him* you had a brother?” John groaned.

-.-.-

When Nancy walked up to John at his father’s wake she was unsurprised by his…fidgeting. He’d noticed her coming and twisted back around swiftly. As if she was going to fall for that.

The last time they’d seen each other was when he’d been laid up in Germany after the helicopter crash – he’d been blitzed out of his mind on painkillers and sobbing about Dex and Mitch – so it wasn’t like she didn’t understand his reaction. She tried to smile, put him at ease.

“I didn’t expect to see you here.” John wasn’t just fidgeting, he was tense. His shoulders were locked and his hands kept clenching as they stood there. She shook her head and pulled him in for a one-sided hug. He somehow managed to tense even more.

John’s grin was tight as he introduced her to his friend Ronon, who hung back – both physically and conversationally. Nancy raised an eyebrow at that, but John was already rambling a bit, trying to ask her about her life. She only had to correct him the once, and she supposed remembering her husband’s name wasn’t top of John’s list of priorities.

“In his mind,” John actually smiled talking about his dad, a little sarcastic, but a smile. “Marrying you was probably the best thing I ever did.”

Nancy gave herself points for not laughing. This John – awkward, fidgety, unsure of himself – that was the John she’d married, but she’d seen him elsewhere. She’d seen him once with Dex even – John was never unsure of himself except around her. Around her, or his family. Anyone who got too close.

“Ronon!” Nancy’s eyes darted towards the man walking up to John’s friend. He was short, stocky, wide shoulders. And scowling. “You’ve eaten some of everything right? Does anything taste citrus-y to you?”

Ronon smirked, “All of them.” The man’s face scrunched up.

“Come on! The caterers thought I was making up my citrus allergy. Completely blew me off!” The man’s arms went up and wide as Ronon arched an eyebrow.

“Sounds like more food for me, McKay.” Ronon was outright grinning now. He took a bite of something on his plate, chewed slowly. McKay crossed his arms and stalked towards them.

Nancy watched John’s reaction – he looked between her and this man, McKay, and his shoulders somehow managed to tense even more. Even he wasn’t careful, he’d need a chiropractor to unlock his shoulders. Nancy’s lips quirked up.

“Okay, how do I get the snooty caterers to tell me which of the food is poisoned?!” McKay didn’t so much as glance in her direction as he spoke to John.

“Usually you ask them, Rodney,” John turned, facing Rodney fully. Even with the tension in his shoulders, Nancy caught the smile that flickered on John’s face as he spoke. “Nicely.”

Rodney huffed, “I was nice!” Ronon snorted behind him. Rodney shot him a withering look, “They laughed when I asked if anything had citrus in it! Laughed!”

John shook his head, a hand moved to his hair.

“Just drop John’s name,” Nancy cut in. Rodney’s head snapped to her and she felt his gaze whip over her as if noticing her for the first time. Analyzing. “They’ll take you more seriously now, especially if they’ve seen you come over here.”

“Who’re you?” Rodney’s head quirked to the side. His eyes stayed on her face. Nancy smiled at him as he looked at John. “Is she important?”

“She’s his ex-wife.” Ronon supplied. Nancy noted his smirk was back and when Rodney’s eyes narrowed on John she knew why.

“You have a wife?!”

“Had.” Nancy and John spoke at the same time. Rodney’s face puckered.

John cleared his throat, “Rodney, this is Nancy. Nancy, this is Rodney McKay.”

“Pleasure.” Nancy tried not to laugh at John forgetting her current last name as she offered a hand for Rodney to shake. He took it. She smiled at him. He frowned, deeply. Nancy looked to John then, “So, he’s…”

“Yup.” John was not looking at either of them now. He was rubbing the back of his head and looking longingly at the barn. He’d never been very good at the personal stuff.

Rodney glared at the sharpness of John’s voice, “Okay, I’m confused, what’re we talking about?”

“He doesn’t –“

“Nope.” John cut her off, still not looking at her. Rodney was looked at her though, eyebrows raised. She shrugged.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Nancy shook her head, shared a smile with Ronon over Rodney’s shoulder. “It was good to see you, John. Even under the circumstances.”

Nancy heard Rodney ask John a very pointed question about ex-wives at funerals as she walked away. She glanced over her shoulder to watch him gesture wildly, all while John tried to hide a fond smile that had his hazel eyes shining gold.

Dex had been quite a handful too as she recalled.

-.-.-

“So…” Dave scratched the back of his head as he led John into their father’s office – his office. Dave shook his head, “I’m sorry about what I said yesterday.” John’s footsteps paused. Dave turned to face him, meeting his eyes, “I was angry, and hurt, and I said things I shouldn’t have.”

John shrugged, his eyes lowered to the floor, “You weren’t wrong. I haven’t- ...I was avoiding contact.” He looked back up at Dave. He didn’t say that he got all of Dave’s messages to Peterson, but he was biting his lip like he was trying to keep himself from admitting it.

“And dad could have sent you a message, same as I did, but he didn’t.”

John let out a breath, stopped biting his lip.

“So, which one is it – the muscle or the mouth?” Dave plopped into one of the high back chairs in front of the desk. John’s mouth fell open. “And don’t even try to deny it, Johnnie – I was the one who told you not to marry Nancy in the first place, remember?” John’s jaw snapped shut.

“Rodney.” John sunk into the chair beside him, shoulders hunched as his bottom lip puckered out in a pout. “Not that we’re actually… I mean, there’s rules against it, and I’m…”

“Horrible about emotional communication.”

John scowled, “Thanks, Davie.” Dave smiled, winked.

“You want a drink?” Dave pushed himself up and headed for the drink cart, “As I recall, these things are easier when neither of us is sober.” John’s lips quirked up.

“Just don’t try to give me relationship advice again.” John took the tumbler of scotch that Dave offered him. “Billie never spoke to me again, after the boom box incident.”

Dave shrugged, took a sip of his drink, “In my defense, I was drunk when I said that.”

“And I was drunk when I did it.” John chuckled, shook his head.

“Maybe try something less…spectacular,” Dave gestured with his glass as he sat back down, “I got the sense this Rodney fellow doesn’t like the spotlight half as much as he pretends to.”

John shrugged, “You were always good at reading people.” He scratched the back of his head, Dave watched him with narrow eyes. “What?” John looked up at him, eyes wide.

“You love him.” Dave watched with a mixture of amusement and sadness as his brother downed the last of his drink. “Pretty sure he feels the same way, given how he glared at Nancy through half the wake.” John groaned, head falling into his hand.

“It’s not like we’re not…together, we’re just not…” John was as red as their mother’s favorite wine as he looked desperately around the room. Whatever word he was looking for did not magically appear on any of the walls. “Together.”

Dave snorted, “Are you aware you’re over forty now?” John sunk back into his chair. “That’s a no.” Dave pushed out of his chair again. He grabbed the bottle of scotch and placed it on their father’s desk in front of them before sitting down, “Alright, start at the beginning, little brother.”

-.-.-

“Are you drunk?!” Rodney had his hands on his hips when John stumbled into the hotel room.

John smiled at him, eyes swimming as he glanced around the room. When he noticed that Ronon was gone he wrapped an arm around Rodney’s neck.

“If you kiss me while drunk, I will hit you.”

John’s bottom lip stuck out, “But Rodney~” John’s whine had Rodney rolling his eyes.

“Did you talk with your brother?” Rodney walked John over to the bed and then shoved him off onto the mattress. John plopped down with a huff. “Get everything all…” Rodney waved his hands around in a wide circle, “…figured out.”

“He told me I was being an idiot,” John’s head lulled to the side, a faint smiling pulling at his lips.

Rodney’s brows scrunched together, “That’s…good?” John chuckled, nodded. “Well, good then.” He muttered about how weird Americans were as he unlaced John’s shoes and pulled them off.

“I love you.” Rodney straightened, one of John’s shoes in his hand. He looked down at John’s goofy grin. John repeated it, enunciating each word, “I. Love. You.”

Rodney dropped the shoe, “Wh-why? What?” Rodney looked over the room, spinning as he were checking for cameras, “How?”

“Well, I mean, I think there’s some brain chemicals involved, and I’ve heard certain star signs are compatible and –”

“Don’t be stupid!” Rodney rolled his eyes and swatted John’s leg, “You know what I mean.”

John just grinned at him again, “That’s what my brother and I talked about.” He wiggled his way up the bed till he was sitting up against the headboard. “How I’m hopelessly in love with you and being an idiot for not telling you.”

“Oh.” Rodney blushed. He started fiddling with the hem of his shirt. He could feel John watching him, when he glanced back up he saw that John was still smiling at him even though he hadn’t said it back. Rodney’s brow scrunched up, “Don’t- don’t you want me to say it back?”

“When you feel like it,” John shrugged, he folded his arms behind his head. His eyes were still swimming and his smile was goofy and drunk. He was absolutely adorable, but Rodney would never admit that aloud. Even under threat of torture! (Actually torture, not guaranteed.)

Rodney shuffled is feet and puckered his lips again, “Tell me again when you’re sober.” He stomped off to the mini fridge and threw a water bottle at John’s head. “It doesn’t count if you’re drunk!”

“That’s what Dave said too,” John chuckled, catching the water bottle and then gulping it down quickly. Rodney rolled his eyes and started fiddling about looking for takeout menus. John watched him with the softest smile yet, heart lighter as he watched Rodney's blush creep up to his ears.

[pervasivethrenody]

McShep Sims 3:  Friendzoned

FINALLY, Carson lets him out of his medical voodoo gulag. 

He’d wanted Rodney in a wheelchair, of course, but Sheppard had promised he’d probably catch Rodney on the walk back if he stumbled, maybe, if Rodney was nice, and Rodney yelled enough to make Carson go away, and that was that.

So now he’s heading back to his quarters, an attentive Sheppard in tow, hand carefully positioned near his elbow. 

And Rodney doesn’t really know Sheppard all that well yet, but he’s absolutely certain that--despite the joking--he will be caught if he starts to fall.

It’s more or less the guy’s job, okay, but still. 

It’s...nice.

Nice to have someone around who, for some reason, actually seems to care about his well-being, care about him.  Someone he might dare to call a friend, or, or.

BAD idea.  That’s the direction he was very deliberately trying not to send this thoughts--

Too late.

Oh god.

He panics, lurching out of Sheppard’s reach.

“Uh?”

“I’m good, I’ll take it from here, thanks.”

Of course that doesn’t get rid of the bastard, who catches up fast, before Rodney can shut and lock the door, damn him.

Knowing he’s not getting out of this, he sighs and lets them both inside.

Sits down heavily on the bed and just, just feels tired for no good reason, even though he did almost nothing but sleep in that damned infirmary.

“Hey,” Sheppard says, pushing away from the wall and extending an arm.

Rodney looks up.

“You sure you’re okay?”

God, this is such a bad, bad idea.

He’s trying so hard to be aloof but John Sheppard is right here, reaching out with that look, like if Rodney answers no he’ll wait here all night, or forever, until Rodney is.

Nobody has ever cared about him this much, not even his family, no one in his life.

And he breaks.

Grabs and yanks him in, pulls him down, rolls on top, holding him there, please don’t fly away pleasedon’tflyaway

It’s ridiculous, he’s a grown-ass man, a scientist, lying on a bed in the middle of nowhere, in his kitty slippers, kissing this stupid, stupid man; ridiculous but incredible, because this stupid, stupid man is kissing back, and he just--just loses it for a minute, surrenders to it--colors dancing like fireworks behind his eyes and the white noise of his own frantic breath and John spread out beneath him, living, solid, willing, warm.

Then John’s pushing up--rolling him away to the side--

--a man at the peak of health, gasping like he’s just run a marathon.

“Jesus,” John mutters, staring at the ceiling, chest heaving.

“Oh my fuck why did you stop,” Rodney says to the floor, scandalized, when he can, like breathe again.  It might be a while before he can move.  If a handful of kisses can do that--

He gives it a three-count before surging back in like a magnet, god, more, god.

But John rolls even farther out of reach, leaving him perched like a fishmouthed, stupid-looking pinup.

“No,” he says.

And Rodney's not exactly Mr. Sensitivity, but he's self-aware enough to know that he's a lot of things people consider unpleasant (words like "revolting," "pig," and "creep" all having been used at some point).  What he's never been, never will be, is a predator; "no" always means no.

He gives up.

“We’re talking about this now, aren’t we,” he whines, because he stopped but that doesn’t mean he has to be happy about it.

“I kinda think so.”

“Congratulations.  You’ve sort of committed to something, for once in your life.”

“Look, I’m trying here, okay?”

Christ, he really is.  He looks even more of a mess than usual, beyond the hair, legitimately instead of artfully scrambled, the full lips kiss-reddened and shiny.  He doesn’t look happy with having to use words.

Rodney sort of wants to kiss him and smack him at the same time, and that makes him pissed because apparently he can’t do either.

“Wait, here.  Let me do the talking for you,” he snaps, before he can stop himself.  “'You’re really a great guy, Rodney, but it’s not you, it’s me.  I think we should just be friends.’”

“Pretty much, yeah, that’s exactly it.”

For a moment he’s actually lost for words. 

Then it comes back and he’s right on the edge of saying Just--really, are you for real?  After that??

But he looks at John, really looks.

This is not the face of a man carelessly letting go of a casual fling.

His hands are shaking.

Intuition pings, sharp and tight in his chest.  It’s not something he’s used to--not when dealing with people--but he’s learning to trust it with John Sheppard.

“Something happened.”

John doesn’t move, but his hands freeze.

“Someone said something to you,” and who would be important enough for John to--

”It was O’Neill, wasn’t it.” 

He doesn’t remember much of what happened, but he’ll never forget the raw terror in John’s eyes; the badly controlled panic bleeding into his voice as he shouted for help, as he whispered a frantic promise to Rodney, over and over, that everything was going to be all right.

His helpless, naked relief that Rodney was all right.

And he’s pretty sure if there was anyone left who didn’t know something was going on here, they damn well do now, in a close-knit place like this.

John, hunched over, says nothing.

Rodney looks at him, really looks at him.

For the first time in a very, very long time, possibly ever, he understands what another human is thinking.

Feels what they’re feeling.

And his heart twists with pity.

“I’m sorry.”

“They would’ve figured it out eventually,” John mumbles, sliding off the bed.

”Do they even enforce that stupid rule anymore?  Trust me, there’s absolutely zero love lost between O’Neill and I, but I never thought he was so...small-minded.”

“He doesn’t care, but there are people who do.”  John shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter.  I won’t take the risk.”

“You don’t think it’s worth trying?”

And he just looks at Rodney, so sad, and Rodney’s heart wrenches again.

Alarming enough to learn he has a heart; now he’s finding out John Sheppard is more than capable of breaking it, over and over, and might just never stop.

“I think,” John finally says, “I would rather be here with you, as your friend, than not with you at all.”

“That is...the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late for that.”

But when he’s up and moving, this time it’s to grab John by the arms...

...and just hold onto him like he doesn’t ever want to let go.

But he has no choice.

“l’ll see you around,” he whispers.

“You better.”

He’s right.  Rodney won’t ever admit it, but he’s right.

Getting half of what he wants is better than the risk of losing it all.

It will be enough.

It has to be.

To be continued...

(I’m not entirely satisfied with this.  I fretted over it a lot, how to approach it, knowing it’s kind of a big turning point.  I thought about having John make his spiel and Rodney would get mad and they’d go away from each other pissed, but that felt just dumb and melodramatic.

Rodney, as he likes to tell us, is a genius who’s terrible with people, but for whatever wonderfully magical reason he’s good with John, so I like to think he would understand.  He wouldn’t agree.  He wouldn’t be happy.  But he’d get it, especially the part where being around each other as friends is the only option, because the alternative is not being together, which isn’t an option at all.)

Uh, happy Valentine’s Day?  Sorry.  💔 )

[gateruner]

SGA Ficlet - “Questions and Answers”

I just stumbled across this on my hard drive and realized I don’t think I ever published it.... or maybe I did and I’m losing it!  I don’t know, either way here it is.

Title: Questions and Answers Author: gateruner (Shelby) Category: SGA, Katie/Rodney, Rodney/John, McShep, pre-slash, episode related Spoilers: "Quarantine" as well as "Millers Crossing" Summary: Rodney ponders the days events and why things turned out the way they did. Author's notes: This is completely unbeta'ed and something that I just wrote up on the spur of the moment. But I really felt like poor Rodney needed to vent after this episode and set a few things right with himself. So here it is. Disclaimer: They aren't mine, if they were, we'd never leave the gateroom. :D

"Questions and Answers" Rodney stared at the tiny black box, trying to grasp just how the situation had turned so horribly wrong. He figured it started when Jeannie brought up the “M” word and then took a left turn to hell about the time he showed Sheppard the ring and it was all downhill from there. John had looked at the ring and at Rodney with an expression that Rodney couldn’t quite place. It was something between awe and something akin to shock. He wasn’t sure what had shocked John more, the idea of his being married or the idea of being married to Katie. “What, you don’t think I’m ready?” “I didn’t say that.” John’s eyes darted, avoiding Rodney’s gaze as much as the question. Rodney had hesitated, waiting for something. Anything. Whether it was approval for his actions or a cry that he was making a huge and horrible mistake, Rodney wasn’t moving until John spoke up again. Part of him was even screaming then that John would stop him. “Go get the girl.” And that’s how it had been. John had conceded to his best friend’s wishes of what he thought was happiness. No ‘Rodney are you insane? You can’t get married!’ and certainly no testaments of undying love and devotion, ‘Rodney you can’t marry HER! It’s me you really want!’

 No, he got a casual wave of the arm and a promise of a beer in celebration or defeat. Defeat seemed to be on the agenda, though it wasn’t the sort of heart wrenching moment he’d set it up in his mind to be. He’d wanted her to say no. Rodney knew that now, even despite the knot that was sitting heavily in his gut. He felt bad for letting Katie down, but he realized just as much as she had that it wasn’t going to work out. The goodbye Rodney had given her was more than just the end to a frantic day; it was the end of their relationship as he’d known it. There was truth to the words he’d spoken to Katie - The hopes that he could be a better person, and that she even made him want to be a better person. But there was someone else who understood him and made him want to be a better person as well; someone who didn’t mind his bleak outlook on life, his doomsday attitude and outspoken persona. Rodney studied the gold band in the pale light of his quarters. The diamond was small, despite its high quality clarity. He’d justified the expense, or lack thereof, by determining that Katie didn’t like expensive and lavish things. She was a practical sort of girl and she’d surely complain about getting the ring dirty in the soil and grime of her fragile plants. Rodney hadn’t seen her expression when she’d first opened the box, but he didn’t hear any audible gasps. No teary eyed weeping or throwing her arms around him. So either she didn’t like the ring or him all that much, and he wasn’t sure which one he should be more upset about. Looking back on the day, Rodney was actually surprised that Katie had remained so calm given the situation. Trapped within the confines of a botany lab, not knowing if anyone else was even alive. It was the kind of situation that he lived for, or at least it would have been if he’d had a computer and a way out. Being trapped with Katie made Rodney realize just how wrong they were together. Katie’s calmness was unsettling and unnerving in a way that he couldn’t even begin to describe. No hostility, no bitter comebacks, just a few gentle reassurances and the hope of brighter tomorrow. Rodney didn’t live on faith, or on the good will of others. He’d always relied on his own skill and intellect to get him out of a situation. The very idea that Katie felt that they blindly sit by while others sorted the whole mess out was just absurd. She knew so little about him when he stopped and thought about it. Katie was calm and soothing, while he was brash and outspoken. She always saw the sunny side of things while he found the dark lining in every cloud. The yin to the yang, or something like that. But opposites were supposed to attract, right? And if so, why was it impossible to make things happen between them. He twirled the ring around his finger, absently noting that it wouldn’t even fit over his pinky. When he studied the band closer, he realized that he’d purchased the ring without ever even knowing Katie’s ring size. Just another flaw in an otherwise insane idea. He tried to imagine her hands, soft and delicate, warm and inviting every time she touched him, just like he was as precious as one of her plants. But his thoughts always strayed to large, masculine hands. Hands that were rough, with deep calluses from years of weapons and combat training. Rodney sighed as he placed the ring back in the tiny black box. There was a knock at the door and Rodney mumbled to himself as he got up from his desk. If it was Zelenka coming to gloat some more about being trapped in the transporter tube with Colonel Carter, well he couldn’t be held responsible for his actions. Rodney swiped his hand over the door reader, realizing just how wonderful that technology was when it was actually working. The door swished open and Rodney felt his heart twist, just a little. John stood in the hallway, hands in the pockets of his baggy black BDU’s, his hair even more disheveled than he’d remembered it earlier in the day, and that boyish grin that always took his breath away. “So, you ready for that beer?” John looked almost scared; as though he wasn’t sure he wanted the real answer, despite the cool and casual demeanor he was trying to give off. After a day of being locked up with Katie, and the nervousness leading up to the almost-proposal, Rodney felt that knot in his stomach release just a tiny bit, and he realized the obviousness of the truth. John Sheppard was the opposite that he was attracted to, the one who would bitch back, keep him focused, and give back as good as he got. That’s what he wanted, and while he’d always strive for being that better person, he knew deep down that he could always rely on John Sheppard to keep him in check. “Yeah, yeah I think I am ready.”

 The end.

[carsonsweebabyturtles]

Tag game!

I was tagged by @scarletmanuka1​ and @logicgunn​. Thanks to both :)

1. Why did you choose your url? 

Well because of this

2. Any side blogs? 

I have a Sherlock Holmes blog which I’m on once in a blue moon these days.

3. How long have you been on Tumblr? 

Since 2012. This blog is a little over a year old though

4. Do you have a queue tag? 

I have an extensive queue but no tag

5. Why did you start your blog in the first place? 

I started it as place where I could horde all the Stargate posts. I had moved away from Sherlock and back to my first love of Sci Fi, had just re watched SG1 and SGA and was hooked again. I didn’t realise the Stargate fandom was so active so didn’t think it would take up much time. Ha. Wasn’t I pleasantly surprised :)

6. Why did you choose your icon/pfp? 

Carson is one of my favourite characters as you can tell by the blog name and it’s a drawing of him I scribbled.

7. Why did you choose your header? 

Because it’s very McShep and I ship it like Fed Ex

8. What’s your post with the most notes? 

I don’t tend to get many notes on posts but I think it may be a Radek Zelenka/Evan Lorne edit with 185. 

9. How many mutuals do you have? 

I don’t know really. A lot. I started off just re following everyone who followed me.

10. How many followers do you have? 

485. Not sure why because all I do mainly is re blog other peoples posts

11. How many people do you follow? 

442. As i said I started out re following everyone 

12. Have you ever made a shitpost? 

No 

13. How often do you use Tumblr each day?

A lot more than I probably ought to. 

14. Did you have a fight/argument with another blog once?

Not as such. I had an ex follower asking me to stop spamming John Sheppard and Rodney McKay posts and showed them the door. Politely :) It’s like they’d never seen my blog before lol. Also had anon hate about my “shitty art” but no fights. 

15. How do you feel about “you need to reblog this” posts? 

I really hate them. I hate being guilt tripped into doing anything. My blog is my safe space and it’s there to cheer me up. I put what I want on it. I try to stay clear of political subjects etc because that’s not why I am here. Doesn’t mean I don’t care about them. I have my personal Twitter for that kind of thing. 

16. Do you like tag games? 

Yes I do

17. Do you like ask games? 

I’ve never actually done one. Perhaps I should.

18. Which of your mutuals do you think is Tumblr famous?

Fame is relative I think. I was asked the other day who the most famous person I had met was and I said Benedict Cumberbatch and they asked who? They weren’t joking. Meanwhile I’m like

So, who am I to know anything about fame but I can tell you some that when they followed me I had a little  'omg I’ve stalked them for ages and now they follow me’ moment. @scarletmanuka1 @zaganthi  @nerdgatehobbit  @destihellhound @logicgunn

19. Do you have a crush on a mutual?

NO. I’m old enough to be your mother :)

Ah, who to tag. feel free to ignore if it’s not your thing. @maverick-werewolf​  @alicia178  @autie-j  @nerdgatehobbit

[gaycartoonwalrus]

polaroid | a stargate atlantis fanvid

[valdomarx]

Lost in Translation

McShep + fake relationship, for @lamberts <3

John glances around warily. The people of this planet seem friendly enough, but with Teyla and Ronon off visiting another village, he feels acutely vulnerable.

“Will others be joining you?” The village elder gives him a inquiring look.

“Just McKay. He’s my scientist.”

The elder frowns. “What is scientist? We do not know this word.”

“Oh.” He looks around the mud hut and contemplates how to explain it. They clearly don’t have a frame of reference for astrophysics or computer programming here. “He’s part of my team. He travels with us and, you know, gets us out of difficult situations. Opens doors. Fixes things when they break. That sort of thing.”

“Ahh.” The elder smiles beatifically. “This we know. He is your chap’tah.”

“Sure, I guess.”

“It is good for one who travels to have a chap’tah.”

John grins. “He has his uses.”

Some of the villagers raise their eyebrows at that, but it’s soon forgotten as they move onto the trade negotiations.

-

“I brought you food.” One of the village women smiles at him shyly as she hands over some kind of bread and fruit. “Should I bring more for you to give to your chap’tah as well?”

“Thank you.” John waves her off. “But don’t worry about McKay. I’m sure he’ll track down the food himself soon enough.”

The woman draws back in horror. “You do not feed him?”

“What? No?” John boggles. “I mean. He’s allowed to eat. Does so a whole lot, actually. But I don’t typically oversee that personally.”

“In our culture, we honor our chap’tahs by providing them with food. Is it not so where you are from?”

“It’s not.” John thinks about the last time the Daedalus came by to restock Atlantis and the frankly incredible volume of snacks that were distributed among the scientists. “Not officially, anyway.”

“Perhaps you should try it.”

He thinks about the way Rodney’s face lights up when he brings donuts to the lab. “Perhaps I should.”

-

“We have prepared a hut for you and your chap’tah.”

“Great.” John isn’t crazy about staying the night here, but the gate is a long hike away and they clearly aren’t in any immediate danger.

The villager, a young man with broad shoulders, leads him to a hut on the edge of the central meeting place. “We hope you will be comfortable.”

John sticks his head inside. It is exceedingly small, barely enough space for one person. It was going to be cramped as hell with both him and Rodney in there.

But they are guests, and he doesn’t want to be rude. “Lovely. Thank you.”

The young man gives him a knowing wink. “We know that a man likes to keep his chap’tah close.”

And that was… weird. But okay, having a scientist close at hand was pretty useful.

-

Rodney storms up to him and John laughs so hard he nearly chokes. He’s wearing some kind of elaborately tied white tunic and has flowers woven into his hair. His face has turned a furious puce color and he is fuming.

“Fun day?” John asks when he’s regained enough breath to speak.

“They insisted on dressing me like this and it’s all your fault.” He waves a finger in John’s face.

“How’s that?”

“They said I had to be presented handsomely. As if my usual attire is anything but! And the more I argued, the more they insisted I had to because of you. ‘When one is chap’tah, one must be at one’s most agreeable.’” Rodney does a mean impression of one of the village elders. “What the hell did you tell them?”

“Honestly, nothing! Just that you were my team scientist. Maybe they really love celebrating science here?”

“Oh, right, because this is a bastion of forward-looking experimental thinking!” Rodney gestures wildly around the village. “I feel so celebrated.”

John suppresses a smile. “I think you look very nice. White suits you.”

He keeps a straight face for all of two seconds before Rodney tries to throttle him.

-

That night, there’s a celebration in honor of their new trade alliance. The villagers build an enormous bonfire and smoke meats and vegetables over it like the galaxy’s biggest barbecue. After the food, they hand around gourds full of sweet mead which leaves sugar on John’s lips and tingling in his throat. And then the dancing begins.

Dancing has a long tradition in this culture, he learns: dances in the hope of a good harvest, dances to give thanks, dances to celebrate births and to commemorate deaths. Every family seems to own a drum or pipe of some kind, and they bring them out to play relentless, rhythmic music to which they twirl around the fire.

The mead must have been stronger than he thought, because when one of the villagers invites him to dance he takes her up on the offer, letting her show him the steps. He catches sight of Rodney watching him from the other side of the fire with a frown, and he’s compelled to pull him to his feet and to wipe that frown away.

Neither of them have the elegance and agility of the others, but that doesn’t seem to matter. John does his best to show him the footwork, but they mostly end up bumping into each other and laughing. At one point they collide so hard that Rodney nearly goes sprawling, and John catches him around the waist to hold him upright.

The firelight paints them both in hues of orange, and a red flush is spreading across the tops of his cheeks, the way it always does after more than one drink. John longs to trace it with his fingertips.

If I kissed him now, he catches himself thinking, he'd taste of honey and wood smoke.

They make it until dawn before staggering back to their hut. The villagers are still dancing, and they fall asleep to the sound of drumming.

-

John wakes up far too hot, with something fluffy tickling his nose and something soft and appealing pressed up against him.

He blinks, stretches, and realizes the tickling thing is Rodney's hair, which his face is buried in, and the heavy weight is Rodney's ass, which he's grinding up against.

Erm.

“Jesus, Sheppard, you could at least buy me dinner first.”

John stills, embarrassed. Though Rodney sounds bleary but not exactly adverse to the idea.

Interesting.

"How about once we get back?"

"Huh?" Rodney is not at his sharpest first thing in the morning.

"Dinner. You. Me. Atlantis."

"Oh." Rodney snuggles back into him. "Yeah, alright."

Nice. "Okay. Good "

There's a quiet moment, and John enjoys the warmth of his arms around Rodney.

Rodney never could appreciate quiet though. "Why did you stop?" He sounds almost petulant. It's kind of cute. "With the -" he gestures vaguely, "- you know."

"Technically I didn't buy you dinner yet."

"Ehh, I'm pretty easy. I'll put out for a potential dinner."

Really nice.

He smiles into Rodney's hair. "If you insist."

-

It’s several hours later that Teyla arrives. John is sat on a muddy bank playing a game involving balancing piles of sticks with some of the local kids, and Rodney has been hustled off to have more flowers braided into his hair. When the village women tugged him out of the hut, giggling and waving flowers, he’d thrown his hands up and barely even complained, so he must be in a truly good mood.

“John,” Teyla gives him a polite nod as she approaches, flanked by two of the villagers. “Caton and Sar’ai tell me that negotiations went well.”

He stretches lazily. “They did. I think we can get enough food to keep Atlantis stocked for several months.”

“Good. Well done.” She comes and sits by him on the bank. “They also told me that you were here with your husband.”

He blinks at her.

She’s hiding a smile. “Is there something you would like to tell me?”

“Erm.” John thinks back over the last day. The chap’tah. The food. The flowers. The shared hut.

Ahh.

“There seems to have been a misunderstanding about me and McKay. Though, on reflection, I can perhaps see how they might have got the wrong impression.”

Teyla nods sagely. “It would be best if you, how shall we say, play along for the rest of the visit? No need to risk a diplomatic incident.”

Very well. If he must, he must.

When Rodney comes back, this time dressed in a fetching blue sheet with violet flowers tucked behind his ears, John pulls him close and kisses him. Rodney makes a happy humming noise and none of the villagers seem perturbed, so he’s going to count that as a win.

As they collect their gear and begin the walk back to the gate, John takes Rodney’s hand in his own.

Teyla inclines her head knowingly. “I am glad your mission was successful,” she says.

"Just doing my part,” he replies, giving Rodney’s hand a little squeeze, “in the spirit of intergalactic understanding."

[valdomarx]

La Campanella

McShep + Rodney plays the piano Rodney never could resist a challenge, especially when it’s set by Sheppard.

Atlantis is a place of many wonders, but Rodney's favorite is this:

In a distant part of the northern pier is a short, squat tower which he and Sheppard investigate on a routine patrol.

And in that tower is a large, unassuming room like a lecture hall.

And in the center of the room is an object seven foot long and three feet high, elegant, delicate, and familiar.

“Is that…” Rodney practically runs over to touch it, as reckless as that urge can be in Atlantis, but he knows this isn’t a weapon or a piece of broken technology or some dangerous machine. It’s a thing of beauty.

It’s an instrument remarkably like a piano: white and black reversed, keys slightly different lengths, but the same 12-step configuration making up an octave. Keys which strike strings stretched over a wide frame with soft hammers, and this can’t be a coincidence.

“How... ” he starts, and then he answers his own question. “The Ancients must have invented this instrument and brought the concept with them to Earth. But that would overturn so much musical history they’ll have to rewrite the textbooks, can you even imagine the implications -”

John does not look as fascinated by the profound repercussions of this discovery on the history of western classical music as Rodney is.

He waves questions of history aside and sits on the low stool in front of the keyboard, blowing away the years of accumulated dust. His hands instinctively settle into arches, his wrists loose, and he plays a few simple scales. The notes sound out clear and true, but -

He frowns.

“Something wrong?” Sheppard is leaning over the instrument, studying him and it with interest.

“This is tuned half a tone lower than an Earth piano. Feels a bit weird, that’s all.”

“How do you know that?”

Rodney affects his smuggest smile. “Perfect pitch, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Sheppard says, rolling his eyes.

Rodney looks around the room furtively, keen for reasons he can’t articulate that no one else should observe them, and he starts to play.

-

It becomes a habit, a place to unwind, somewhere they visit on off hours and in quiet moments.

Today Sheppard is flicking through a golf magazine while Rodney warms up with some Bach. The music is pleasing and orderly, and the sparse, bright notes explode in fractal-like patterns, unfurling and changing and becoming more complex the closer you look.

John tilts his head to one side and says, “You know there’s a whole bunch of classical music on the Atlantis server?”

Rodney grins. He did know that, in fact. Never get between a team of scientists and their file sharing. “I may have heard.”

“I listened to some of the Chopin you like. Then some other piano stuff as well.”

“Yeah?” Rodney picks at a fingernail. Something about the idea of John listening to music just because Rodney likes it makes his heart beat a little faster. “Find anything you liked?”

“A bunch actually. Have you heard of a piece called La Campanella? By a guy named Liszt?"

"Have I…" Has he heard of the single hardest piece in the entire solo piano repertoire? The fact he could never get those double stops right haunts him to this day. "Yeah, it rings a bell."

"I like that one," John says decisively. "It's nice."

Nice??? Sheppard thinks the most epic and demanding piece of all time is nice? Of course he does.

"You should learn to play it," John says casually, like he's suggesting they watch an action movie instead of a scifi.

"I should -" he splutters. "Do you have any idea how difficult that is? It's practically impossible."

John smirks and says, "I thought practically impossible was your specialty?"

Rodney is still spluttering when John throws him a wink and walks out.

-

And then, because despite being the finest mind in two galaxies, on some level he truly is an idiot, he stretches out his fingers and starts to practice.

-

It's not like he had copious free time to start with. But he makes space whenever he can to come to the piano room, chipping away at this ludicrous piece, bit by bit, phrase by phrase, over and over and over.

People think that learning to play is artistry, and maybe it is that too, but mostly it's a grind. You keep doing it again and again until you get it right. It's as much about stubbornness as about skill.

And stubbornness is something Rodney McKay has in abundance.

-

Liszt really was a sadistic old bastard, Rodney thinks sourly as he works on the right hand jumps until his fingers turn to lead.

-

Sometimes Sheppard comes and sits with him while he practices, and on those days he plays easier pieces, things which are familiar and casual. Not that John seems to pay much attention, but Rodney has the urge to impress him all the same.

He’s always having that urge around John.

-

He spends an entire week working on his goddamn trill.

It shouldn’t matter and it’s not like anyone will really listen to it. But it seems to represent something important — a sequence of paired adjacent notes, next to each other but never quite touching, bouncing off each other time and time again, a dance of two — though he doesn’t want to examine that too closely.

-

He doesn’t tell anyone else about the piano. He tells himself that’s because it’s convenient that he doesn’t have to share and can use it whenever he wants.

But really, he likes that it’s his and Sheppard’s; their own tiny secret in this vast and sprawling city.

-

He hears the piece in his sleep, and on missions, and when he’s working in his lab. It becomes a background hum of his brain, always there, a sort of yearning for the possible, the platonic ideal, the way that things could be.

He tries not to examine that too closely either, though the weight of the realization is becoming harder to ignore.

-

Eventually the piece is as ready as it's going to be. He scribbles a quick note during a meeting, folds it into a paper airplane, and throws it at Sheppard's head. He hits him right in the temple, and he manages to avoid cheering when Elizabeth glares at him.

I have something to play for you, the note reads. Meet you at 7? You know where. - R

He jots it down without really thinking, and only once he's thrown does it occur to him how soppy it sounds.

John doesn't seem too perturbed though. He smiles down at the note and meets Rodney's eye with a little eyebrow wiggle which Rodney takes to mean, Gonna impress me?

-

By the time John arrives, Rodney is all warmed up and more nervous than he's ever been about a performance. His heart is racing, and when John gives him a fond look and says, "Hey," it trips even faster.

Once he settles in to play though, there's a certain kind of mental clarity that settles over him. His hands know how to do this, he just has to sit back and let them.

His wrists are still tense as he sounds out the first few bars and then, all at once, he relaxes into it and lets the music carry him. Hours of repetition have made every chord, every melody, every insane and unreasonable jump into something almost effortless. He even forgets John is there: there’s only him, and the piano, and the music.

The music builds and builds, each section becoming more and more ornamented, more complex, more physically demanding, all at a relentless pace that sends most players reeling. But he's got this, he can do this, it turns out all he needed was a bit of motivation.

The penultimate section is his favorite: The technical parts are done and here he can throw himself into the wild, over the top glory of the final melody. And perhaps he shows off a little bit, catching John's eye and grinning at him, but that's all part of the fun.

The piece ends with a crashing, massive finale that makes him feel like a virtuoso, and then in a last few epic chords it's done, as tight and perfect a five minutes as you could wish for.

The final chord reverberates on and on through the stillness of the room, glowing out beyond the city and into the night.

"Wow." John's eyes are wide. "That was great."

Rodney preens, because that ineloquent little comment somehow means more to him than an auditorium full of ecstatic applause. Having John look at him like that makes the months of practice worth it.

"You liked it?" He's fishing for compliments, but he figures he's earned it.

"I did," John says, staring at Rodney's hands like they hold the secrets to the universe.

He looks up and blushes at having been caught staring. Then he deflects and shrugs one shoulder. “Honestly, though, it’s not my favorite piano piece.”

Rodney narrows his eyes. He has the distinct impression he’s been played. “What was your favorite then?”

"I prefer Songs Without Words."

"Mendelssohn?" he explodes. "You wanted Mendelssohn? Jesus Christ, I learned to play that when I was eight!"

John grins. "I appreciate simplicity in music."

"Then why on earth did you make me learn Liszt?!"

John has this joyous, manic light in his eyes, like he's having the time of his life here, messing around with Rodney, of all the things he could be doing. "I like watching you do impossible things."

He sucks in a breath. "I hate you."

"No you don't." John leans in, smug and delighted, and oh, Rodney is so in love with this ridiculous, infuriating man that he could burst. "You learned La Campanella for me."

"It wasn't that hard," he says quickly, because he has a reputation to maintain here. But John laughs and gives him this soft, teasing look, one eyebrow quirked at a ridiculous angle beneath the chaotic mess of his hair, and Rodney is defenseless.

"Whatever you say, McKay," John says, and Rodney has the feeling he sees straight through him. "Now play it again."

[pervasivethrenody]

McShep Sims 3:  IDK My BFF Rodney?

(To recap after a longish break:  Grabass happened.  It was good.  Very good.  Unfortunately John came to his senses in the middle of it, had to stop and stumblingly fail to explain why it was a Bad Idea and Should Never Happen.  Rodney, being inexplicably fluent in Sheppard-speak, put the missing pieces together and ended up agreeing that it was best they put the incident behind them and go on as “friends.” Ahahaha, guys, good luck with that.)

Life goes on, John going along with it, because what else can you do?

He tries to busy himself with work, such as there is for a glorified light switch at the ass-end of the world.  Carry on with things--

“You’re avoiding me.”

--which lasts about a day.

Damn it.

He sighs.  “We’re doing this now?”

Rodney, in John’s side-vision, looks him over, head to toe.

“Oh, I think this is a fine time, given your generously nurtured propensity for running away from anything resembling a personal problem.” 

Damn it, that’s not fair.

“Look,” John says, letting his fingers drum on the handrest.  “I'm not avoiding you--”

“Could have fooled me.”

“Give me some credit, okay?  I’m trying here.”

“’Trying’?”

“To--” he waves a hand, damn well aware he picked that up from Rodney, and doesn’t that just underscore the problem here?  “--to keep things normal.  The way they’ve been.  Were.”

To his surprise, Rodney doesn’t get angry, just turns to face him and quietly says, with a look John can’t read, “Do you really even think that’s possible?”

Why should he be surprised?  Rodney’s way of surprising John is by not surprising him at all.  The way he just gets John, the way they get each other.

And he was good with that, when that was all there was.  When he thought that would be all there was.

Only, once you know someone--the warm anchor of their body holding you down, the shape of their smiling lips finally, finally meeting your own--there’s no way to stop knowing it.

So now John has to keep going, working beside Rodney, looking at him, talking to him while knowing what he’d vaguely, offhandedly imagined, in his spare time, when he was alone.  Knowing what he’d suspected since they first set eyes on each other.

That for no reason at all that anyone can explain, least of all themselves...

...they just...

...somehow...

...fit.

“No,” he says, just as quietly.  “I don’t think it is.”

“So...what now?”

“I really don’t know.”

He really doesn’t.

Just like that, Rodney’s whole mood seems to shift.

“Well, if you figure it out sometime in the next galactic year let me know,” he snaps.  “Some of us have actual work to do.”

And stalks out, before John can reply.

Fuck.

“I was trying, damn it,” he mumbles to the empty room. 

Can’t he just catch a break?

He thinks the answer is no.  It’s almost always no.

Until the morning Rodney charges into the mess hall, skids past their table, and comes skidding back to it. 

He’s flushed with the cold and nearly breathless with his excitement.  John, who’s been putting a lot of actual effort into avoiding Rodney, hadn’t even realized he’d left. 

“Where’s the fire, son?” Carson says.

There’s no answer for a long stretch as Rodney gathers his breath.  He looks them all over as they push away from the table, because whatever the hell is going on, it’s pretty damn important.

“They found it,” Rodney gasps, as they crowd around.  “The bastards, they found it.”

“Found what?” John asks.

And Rodney’s grinning at all of them, but John knows--knows--the smile in it is for him.  For them.

‘A Zed-PM,” he says, his eyes shining.  “We’re going to Atlantis.”

To be continued...

(THERE.  FINALLY.  Dear god.  I’m...I’m done with this chapter.  Imperfect camera angles and rushed ending and all.  It’s time to move on.  Hooray.)