Various and sundry. By which I mean recs and a fic.
Torchwood recs: Jack/Ianto, Jack/Gwen, Jack/Suzie, Jack!
I'm not sure how many times these stories have been rec'd, because I don't really keep up with Torchwood fandom. But these are a few that I've found that have stood out to me.
Deep With the First Dead Lies London's Daughter by jmtorres: [Jack/Ianto] I've read at least a million how-Jack-and-Ianto-met fics, but this is my favourite. It's both funny and sombre. I particularly like how she handled the events of the Season Two finale of Dr Who, and how Ianto is both fascinated and repulsed by Jack.
"Just tell me what he looked like," Captain Harkness said, pressing a button to dissipate the hologram.
"Yes, sir," Ianto said, belatedly recalling that he'd meant to offer the captain that form of respect. He fold his hands in his lap and tried to focus. "He was younger than that man you just showed me. He had dark brown eyes, light brown hair. Um, his nose was pretty big, pointy. He was about as tall as me--six foot or so--he looked thin."
"What was he wearing?" the Captain prompted.
"A suit," Ianto said. "Pinstripe. Trainers." He remember seeing the trainers over the edge of his clipboard.
"And what did he say to you?" Captain Harkness said. He seemed almost excited now, slowly tapping his open mouth with a pen.
"He asked me if I was the bloke writing down the names of the dead," Ianto recalled. "He said he had a name for me. Rose Tyler." Ianto watched Captain Harkness's expression. It hardened for a moment, but that was all. Heartless, entirely.
I Really Can’t Stay by iamsab: [Jack/Doctor, Jack/hand (no, really)] Someone had to do it, eh? In Sabine’s usual beautiful style.
The hand bobs. Somewhere it can feel the Doctor's new hand dancing across the Tardis controls, and its fingers twitch. It feels the Doctor's blood pulsing through it, feels the motion of the Tardis suspended somewhere in the air, fifty, maybe a hundred miles away, no more. Like he came back for something, and the hand lets itself think maybe the Doctor came back to reclaim it, and is scared again.
And it's as if Jack knows, or can sense it, because he reaches out and flips open the safety latches that hold the jar shut and sets the lid on his desk. The hand swims to the surface and feels the cool air of the Hub on its fingertips. Jack reaches in, twines his fingers through the hand's, and pulls the hand out of its goo.
The hand, warming against Jack's palm, waits for orders that it knows won't come.
Paramagnetic by Fahye: [Jack/everyone, but mostly Jack/Suzie] This is my favourite fic Torchwood fic so far. It starts off on how Jack recruits Owen, Ianto, Tosh, and Suzie, but then turns into a story about Suzie's downward spiral, all from Jack's POV. It's dark and beautifully done, giving the series a backstory that is perhaps more interesting than the canon one (whatever that may be).
A warning for those straying within the magnetic field of Captain Jack Harkness: extended proximity may cause dysfunction of one's moral compass. Perhaps the disappearance of his touch meaura has less to do with self-punishment, as he was beginning to suspect, and is rather something along the lines of an unconscious warning beacon. Nevertheless, they're changing; Jack has never needed to touch someone to win them. He watches them draw ever closer, gone to spinning needles and shades of grey, and wonders if he should be doing more to prevent this.
Punchdrunk Love Singalong, or: four things Jack and Ianto used a stopwatch for, and one thing they didn't by dew_chan: [Jack/Ianto] What Jack and Ianto were doing with that stopwatch in They Keep Killing Suzie, and it wasn’t sex. Intense.
He grabs the knife from on top of his desk and Ianto flinches back, sudden fear in his eyes. Jack might be hurt by that reaction but he doesn't have time to think about it, doesn't have time to think about anything, especially not what he's doing now as he pulls his hand up to his throat and slashes the blade across in one quick fluid movement.There is a rush of terror, of course, because there always is, no matter how many times he dies his body and brain always react in the same way, pumping adrenaline into his system, blood rushing faster and that's not much help in this situation, great wet gouts of it spurting from his jugular, flooding his trachea too from the panicked choking feel of it, he can't breathe and he sinks to his knees (no pointhitting his head on the desk, too, the rational part of his brain thinks) and then things blur over very quickly and then nothing.
Rubik's by Calapine: [Jack/Gwen] Tag for They Keep Killing Suzie. Gwen's having a difficult time getting over what happened. This is twisted and interesting, and it didn't make me hate Gwen.
She wonders how long Suzie's boxes will sit, rotting, forgotten. She thinks of her own life in boxes: family, work, Torchwood, real life, Jack, Owen, Rhys. Plays games about what she would do if she ran away and how far she could get before they found her. She wonders if Suzie did that too, if that was what drove her over the edge. (Because it wasn't just the glove; it couldn't be just the glove: that's her mantra of choice when feeling as though she's teetering on a cliff.)
Sun in the Sky by giddygeek: [Jack/Ianto] How Jack and Ianto became involved. This was the first Torchwood story I read, and I still love it. The way Giddy handles Ianto’s grief while still maintaining the mystical vibes of the show is very lovely.
Jack laughingly squashes a food fight between Owen and Tosh and gets upto get a drink, rests his hand on the nape of Ianto's neck as he passes. "All right, Ianto?" he asks casually, and squeezes when Ianto jerks a startled nod, aware of the others watching. "Mind the children while I'm gone, then. I don't want to come back to a mess.”
"We'll be good," Gwen promises, and the moment the door is shut behind Jack she's leaning forward, eyes locked on Ianto's face. "Is he trying to seduce you?" she asks, incredulous, delighted, jealous, and Owen pushes her back in her seat with a brisk warning about her wounds, his hands possessive.
I think this is the first time I've ever used the word "sundry" in my life. Thank you, SGA, for making me remember this word exists. A secret confession: I have the worst vocabulary out of anyone you will meet, ever. If you take away thesaurus.com, I'm completely unable to write.
In an unrelated note, I find it funny that I sit here stewing over the fact SGA fics are woefully free of plot lately, and then I write this. SOCIOPATH Y/N?
This prompt was given to me by my sister, who said, "DADT fics are stupid. Write this." Spoilers up to 3x10 The Return Pt 1. There are no spoilers beyond that, other than that it takes place in Atlantis. AU because of the whole DADT thing. McKay/Sheppard (obvs). This is a silly little writing exercise, so it hasn't been beta read, unfortunately, but seperis was nice enough to look over it and tell me it didn't suck.
Warnings: Uh, humourous homophobia?
This story is not meant to be taken seriously by anyone.
Some Guys Have All the Luck (3,125 words)
After they'd been reinstated in Atlantis, things went back to normal fairly quickly. Teyla meditated, Ronon worked on being the most manly man in the city, Sheppard spent all his time on his hair, and Rodney saved everyone's lives on a daily basis. That bout of normalcy ended, however, the day Sheppard sat down at lunch and said, conversationally, "Don't Ask, Don't Tell's been revoked."
Rodney looked up in surprise. "Really? Huh. When was this?"
Sheppard shrugged. "Last week." Rodney glanced around the commissary suspiciously, but no one seemed to be beating the hell out of each other. Leisurely digging into his yoghurt, Sheppard added, "Guess we can start dating again."
Rodney choked on his waffles. "We're-- again? Again? When were we dating before?"
Sheppard looked disgruntled. "That long-distance thing we had going on when we were back on Earth?"
"What?" Rodney asked shrilly. He had no idea what Sheppard was talking about. Frantically, he tried to think of a time when they'd made out or exchanged promises to grow old together or something, anything, but he came up blank. The most they'd done on Earth had been eat out at disgusting diners and argue whether or not they'd go skiing. (They never went; Rodney had had one too many traumatic accidents on the slopes as a child. They'd compromised by playing SSX III on the PS2 instead.)
"You called me, like, six times a day," Sheppard said. "You flew in every weekend!"
Rodney threw his hands in the air. "And that's dating? In that case, am I dating Carson and Elizabeth too? Actually, don't answer that. It's too horrifying to think about."
Sheppard blew out a breath through his nose. "Rodney," he said stiffly, "are you saying you don't want to date me?"
"Oh no, you're not taking this away from me," Rodney said. "It's about time I landed a hot colonel. It's my right as a red-blooded American male."
"You're not American."
"Canada is part of North America," Rodney insisted. "God knows I've saved both this galaxy and Earth enough times, you'd think the US government would've given you to me as a gift by now."
Sheppard's eyes narrowed. "Hey. I'm not a prize to be won."
Rodney stared. "Did you just quote Aladdin at me?"
"No," Sheppard said after a beat.
Rodney glared, but then his eyes swept over Sheppard's long face, pointed nose, and green eyes. "Dating, huh?"
Sheppard's expression was sober, but his mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile.
"If we were dating, why didn't we ever sleep together?" Rodney asked, chagrined. That was weeks -- weeks! -- of missed opportunities.
"Maybe because you ask me questions on why we're not sleeping together," Sheppard said.
"Rodney," Zelenka's voice buzzed in his ear, "we are done with the first run of simulations."
Rodney brought a hand up to his earpiece. "Understood, Radek." To Sheppard he added, "I'll see you later." He stood, hesitating. There was something he felt he should say, but it felt too personal, to intimate. But if Sheppard was his boyfriend -- or at least Rodney's special friend with whom he would hopefully be having sex with as soon as humanly possible, not that he'd been thinking about sex with Sheppard for years or anything, heavens no -- he supposed he could say it.
He straightened his shoulders, gathering his courage. "John."
There was a horrible silence as the entire commissary turned to gape at him. Rodney bristled, but Sheppard ignored everyone around them and beamed, like Rodney had just given him a powerful weapon or a spaceship. And Rodney had, indeed, given Sheppard both at one point or another. Already he was the best boyfriend ever. Sheppard was lucky to have him.
Sheppard's goofy smile was enough to keep Rodney suitably distracted for a few hours. That was, until he found a yellow post-it with, "Stop gaying up our city, homo," scribbled on it and taped to his work station.
"Okay, whose idea of a joke is this?" he asked loudly, holding up the note.
"It's not a joke," Dr Vogel said. He pushed up his glasses with one finger. Three other men also stood up: Drs Pham, Creager, and Hurst. They crossed their arms over their chests in what Rodney assumed they considered a threatening manner.
"Heard you're dating Sheppard, McKay," Creager sneered.
Rodney tried not to preen at the words "you," "dating," and "Sheppard" together in the same sentence. He mostly succeeded.
"Wow, really? But the Colonel's so good-looking," said someone in the back.
Rodney rolled his eyes so hard it physically hurt. He ignored that particular individual. "And my relationship with the Colonel is your business how?"
They moved closer to his bench. If they all hadn't been wearing inch-thick glasses and orthopedic shoes, he might have been intimidated. The four of them put together didn't even weigh as much as Ronon. "We don't want need you gaying up physics," Pham said.
"I'm sorry, are you bullying me because my dating a man threatens you in some way?" Rodney asked incredulously. "Are you going to try to take my lunch money too? Oh wait, no, this isn't grade school, it's a scientific expedition in another galaxy, and I'm your boss. So why don't you go back to work before I replace you with one of the two hundred physicists who applied for your jobs?"
Hurst and Pham backed up, but Vogel and Creager gave him equally disgusted looks. "Fine," said Vogel, "but just so you know, nothing about Atlantis has made me question my religion. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go talk to Hermiod about cloning."
He spun on his heel and left, Creager trailing behind him.
"This is the most bizarre day of my life," Rodney said.
*
He wasn't hurt about it, exactly. Mostly bewildered. But knowing Sheppard was probably being ostracized and pushed around and called names by the Marines made him feel a little better.
When Sheppard showed up for dinner that evening, he had rainbow glitter in his hair.
"Oh yeah," he said, running a hand over his head, shaking glitter all over the table. Rodney glared and tugged his tray back. There was no telling how much of that stuff was in his food now. "We had a party in the gym earlier."
"Who?" Rodney asked, using a napkin to push some of the glitter onto the floor.
"The Marines."
"The Marines," Rodney echoed flatly. "The Marines threw you a party for being gay."
Sheppard raised his eyebrows. There were sparkles on his face, too. Rodney had seen less glitter on go-go dancers. "It wasn't for me, it was for everyone. It was just, you know, a party. A kind of, 'you're here, you're queer, we're used to it,' thing. Stackhouse baked a cake-- "
"Stackhouse is gay?" Rodney interrupted.
"No," Sheppard replied. "And Lorne's team made banners -- that's how I got glitter on me, I guess -- and Cadman likes techno music, it turns out--"
"I think I've heard enough," Rodney said glumly. He poked at his dinner morosely.
Sheppard's eyes narrowed. "What's your problem?"
Rodney hesitated. On the one hand, it was embarrassing to admit people far less intelligent than him were calling him names. If anything, he should be the one picking on them, since he was the one who'd hired them. On the other hand, he really felt like complaining. "While you were shaking your tail feather on the dance floor, I was being harassed by the OM Club."
"Hey, I was in Odyssey of the Mind when I was in school," Sheppard said, sitting up.
Rodney sighed. "Of course you were."
"How were they harassing you?"
"They told me they didn't want me 'gaying up physics,' whatever the hell that means," Rodney replied. Sheppard guffawed. Scowling, he continued, "They left me a note on my desk, telling me to get out of the city. Me! Can you believe it? What have I ever done to them?"
Sheppard cocked a brow. Rodney really didn't appreciate that dry look, however mindlessly attractive it was. "You're sure they were doing it because they know you're gay, and not because they don't like you?"
Peeved, Rodney scooped the last bite of meatloaf into his mouth, and grumbled, "Please, they've known for years I was a jerk."
"Huh," Sheppard said. It was a thoughtful kind of "huh," the kind of tone Sheppard usually had before one of his hairbrained yet lifesaving ideas.
"What?" Rodney asked.
Sheppard shook his head. "It's probably nothing."
"Now you have to tell me," he insisted.
Sheppard languidly shrugged a shoulder. "A while back, Ford told me that in order to join the SGC, they checked to see how open-minded and adaptable he was. The same for the other officers who joined. I'm just thinking, since your people don't always go offworld, maybe they skipped over that whole open-minded part of the psych eval." He gestured with his fork.
"Hmm," Rodney replied, remembering some of the morons he'd had to work with the last few times he'd been at the SGC. He'd always been amazed Samantha Carter had lasted so long without killing any of her fellow scientists. Of course, aside from her refusal to date him, she was perfect. Rodney glanced at Sheppard, who was carefully poking his vegetables, gaze turned inward. Sheppard wasn't perfect, but he was-- well, he was Sheppard.
Sheppard raised his head, eyes locking with Rodney's. Rodney felt his face go hot.
"Or maybe they're just assholes," Sheppard continued.
"If only we could all be as tolerant as the US armed forces," Rodney said dryly.
He jumped when something nudged him under the table. It took him a moment to realize it was Sheppard's foot. "Call me John again," he demanded in a low tone.
Rodney sniffed. "No."
"Come on," Sheppard whined.
"How about this, I'll call you 'John' while you blow me."
Sheppard looked scandalized. But before Rodney could weasel a promise of sex out of him, Ronon joined them, hopping into the chair beside Sheppard with a cup of jello in one hand and a slice of pie in the other. "Hey," he said, "heard you guys were dating."
At that moment, Vogel approached and pulled Rodney's tray off the table, knocking it to the floor. The remainder of his meal -- salad, grapes, and a few spoonfuls of potato salad -- scattered messily.
"What the hell was that for?" Rodney demanded, as Ronon said, "You shouldn't waste food."
"Go back to Earth, queer," Vogel snarled.
Sheppard and Ronon both climbed to their feet. So did several of the Marines at the table next to theirs, much to Rodney's surprise. Vogel shot out of the room before Rodney had a chance to laugh triumphantly at the ass kicking Vogel was sure to receive.
"Well, that was different," Sheppard said, frowning in the direction Vogel had disappeared.
"You want us to have a 'talk' with him, sir?" Major Lorne asked, smirking. The Marine standing beside him cracked his knuckles loud enough for Rodney's stomach to churn. It made his hand hurt just thinking about it. "No one makes fun of our CO."
"Actually, he was making fun of McKay," Sheppard said.
"Ah. Nevermind then," said Lorne.
All the Marines sat back down. Conversation in the commissary resumed.
"Oh, no way," Rodney exclaimed, rooted to the spot. "See if I save your asses again."
"You want me to say something?" Ronon asked.
Rodney brightened. "Really?"
"No," Ronon said.
*
Despite that he had been very, very patiently waiting for Sheppard to give permission for Rodney to jump his bones, Rodney had several hours' worth of simulations to finish before he could even think about his personal life. His duties as Chief Science Officer were far more important than Sheppard's hot, lean, well-toned body. He could put off his libido for one more night. He'd been putting it off for years already.
"Well, well, well," came a voice at the doorway.
When Rodney started up the second wave of simulations with the new data, the main lab had been mostly full. But sometime during the evening, everyone else had packed up and left, even Zelenka. Now, when he looked up, he was the only one in the room. The idiots from earlier were standing at the entrance to the lab, wearing identical lab coats with grey pocket protectors. The light flashed eerily off of Vogel's Coke bottle glasses.
"Is there something I can help you with, Doctors?" Rodney asked sarcastically.
The four of them encircled him like a pack of hyenas. "Looks like your boyfriend and his military buddies aren't here to protect you this time," Vogel sneered.
It was time for Rodney to start becoming a little concerned for his own well-being. "Hello, I have a gun," he said, hand creeping towards his thigh holster.
Pham and Hurst took off running.
"Losers!" Vogel shouted at their backs.
"You won't use it," Creagan said threateningly to Rodney.
"Do you know how many ways I know of to dispose of your body so no one would ever find it?" Rodney demanded. Vogel and Creagan exchanged glances. "While it's all very fascinating to sit here and play After School Special, I have a lot of work to do. You're straight; we all get it now. So you can go back to measuring your penis sizes or whatever it is you do in your spare time."
Vogel's face turned a nasty shade of purple. "We've come to teach you a lesson."
That didn't sound good. Not that he was afraid of them, of course. He'd faced Wraith and Genii and all sort of other terrifying things by this point. This was nothing compared to the daily ribbing he received from Ronon. Of course, Ronon wouldn't hurt him. Probably. "You know what they say about homophobes," Rodney said, a little desperately. "They're just in denial about their own sexuality."
Vogel opened his mouth, and then closed it.
"Don't make us question our heterosexuality!" Creagan replied.
It was then Rodney noticed something in each of their hands.
"What's that?" he asked worriedly.
And that was when they pounced.
*
Sheppard's bed was soft -- too soft for Rodney's delicate and possibly curved (not that any doctor would ever believe him) spine -- and strangely small, but there was a nice, warm body in it. The pillow smelled like his shampoo. Rodney was the epitome of restraint was he refrained from rubbing his face on it like a horny teenager. This was just the place he needed to be to wind down.
"Ow, you're on my arm," Sheppard said.
Rodney raised himself enough for Sheppard to wiggle his arm out from under him. He kept his eyes closed, though, and the bed squeaked as Sheppard shifted.
"Not that I'm against having you in my bed or anything," Sheppard said, placing his hand comfortingly on Rodney's back, "but I was kind of asleep."
If it was true that he and Sheppard had been seeing each other for months, it was time for Rodney to be a man and demand Sheppard start putting out. It was the natural course of action to take, one he had taken many times in the past. He was sure that was completely unrelated to why he was almost forty and still unmarried. "John, I've been very patient with you," he began.
Sheppard squinted. "It's only been fourteen hours since were started going out again."
"You really need to stop with that 'aga--'" Rodney sat up. "Fourteen hours? Oh my God, you've been counting? You girl." Sheppard glared long enough for Rodney to feel disconcerted. He studied his nails. "I may have had a, ah, rather unusual experience in the lab just now that requires comforting."
"What?" Sheppard asked, blinking up at him.
"Vogel and Creagan may have cornered me and, er, beat me."
Sheppard stiffened beside him. "They what?"
This was humiliating. "With their graphing calculators. It was really kind of embarrassing. After a while I just started saying, 'oh no, you bastards,' to speed things along."
"Are you okay?"
He lifted his head, glaring. "Didn't you hear me? They beat me with calculators. Considering Creagan's arms are like twigs and Vogel looks like he hasn't been outside in roughly ten years, I'd say I'm fine. Except for the deep emotional scarring from having to be the subject of their twisted homophobia. It felt like I was being pelted with bean bags."
Sheppard settled back down. "Yeah, I guess you'd be complaining more if you were really hurt."
Rodney stared in horror as Sheppard's eyes fluttered shut. "Are you going back to bed?"
One eye opened. "It's four in the morning."
"I was attacked. Don't I at least deserve a blowjob?"
Sheppard's face scrunched up. "Rodney, I think we should wait. Our first time should be special."
"What?" Rodney cried. "You're kidding me."
"Yeah, I am," Sheppard said. "Let's get naked."
*
The next morning, Rodney waited for a surprise attack to come. And waited. And waited. But nothing happened. Zelenka reported Rodney's secret fanclub were doing their jobs, for the most part, and there weren't any post-its stuck to his bench or angry letters written in blood or anything like that. By lunchtime , he was suspicious.
"Did your guys say thing to them?" Rodney asked Sheppard as he joined Rodney's table. His tray had more food on it than usual. Rodney eyed it; he hoped Sheppard wasn't going to let himself go now that they were together.
Sheppard raised an eyebrow. "What 'guys' would be you be referring to?"
He waved a hand. "You know, your homo-loving, gun-totting GI Joes."
"No." Sheppard licked his lips. Rodney definitely did not stare at Sheppard's mouth. Oh, sweet, delicious memories. "But word is Vogel's going out with Sergeant Campbell now."
Rodney gaped openly. "That goddamn--"
And they lived happily ever after. Mostly because I can't think of a real ending.
Disclaimer:Stargate Atlantis does not belong to me. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.