SGA fic - McKay/Sheppard - The Green Ones - PG-13
Title: The Green Ones
Author: lillyjk
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis, McKay/Sheppard pre-slash, PWP, humor
Rating: PG-13
Word count: @ 1700
Summary: Written for the Urban Legends challenge (green M&Ms are an aphrodisiac). Also for fanfic100 Green prompt (38 down, 62 to go), thanks to the lovely and talented themoononastick for the beta!
Rodney knows he’s in trouble when John breaks out the battered deck of cards.
They’re guests of the Jornas, not prisoners, which means that although they are locked in, the room is relatively comfortable, and they’ve been allowed to keep everything that doesn’t look like a weapon. Today’s cell, oh right, guest quarters, consists of one large room with two beds and a barred window. An ornate screen separates the bedroom area from what passes for a bathroom.
They’ve been allowed to keep their radios, and once Sheppard is assured that Teyla and Ronon are safe he seems singularly unmotivated to find a way out.
Rodney wants to protest, but the food they’ve been provided is good, and the beds are bigger than those atrocities on Atlantis, so he just grumbles a little on principle before claiming the bed furthest from the door.
It’s early yet, and while Rodney would like nothing more than a night’s uninterrupted sleep, he knows that there’s too much caffeine running through his system for sleep to be anywhere close. But it’s been another day of too much walking, and not enough rest, so he strips off his jacket and toes off his shoes before flinging himself down on one of the beds with a grunt.
Sleep is still a long way off, but Rodney’s eyes are closed, so it’s the principle of the thing that makes him let out an irritated sigh when Sheppard starts talking. As usual, Sheppard ignores his irritation and just keeps talking.
“Rodney,” John’s voice has taken on that special wheedling tone he reserves just for Rodney. “You’re not going to sleep now are you?” Rodney feels the bed dip down as John sits down beside him. “It’s still light outside.”
Rodney sighs again, and then opens his eyes to glare at Sheppard. “Please tell me this is not going to be another one of those I’m bored, entertain me missions - because I’m really not in the mood.”
Sheppard does that truly irritating pouting thing with his bottom lip and gives Rodney his best puppy dog eyes. “Come on, Rodney.” He reaches for his discarded pack and starts digging around. That’s when the cards make their appearance.
** -- **
They’re playing on Rodney’s bed. Rodney at the head and Sheppard at the foot with the cards laid out between them. Rodney hates poker, but he’s good at it. Close to six months in Antarctica, and nearly a year in Russia before that, means that Rodney knows how to play every card game on three continents. He toys with Sheppard for the first couple of hands, asking questions about flushes and straights and crowded houses. Sheppard buys into it and Rodney thinks it’s actually pretty cute that Sheppard is so earnest about teaching him the rules.
When Rodney purposefully loses another hand, he makes a comment about losing his shirt. Sheppard is quick to point out that they’re not actually betting on anything. Rodney does that thing with his lips where one side tugs down in the corner and makes a self-deprecating comment about geeks and no skills and how he understands that John doesn’t think they should actually play for anything.
Rodney watches as Sheppard’s eyes drop down to his mouth and then Sheppard’s tongue flicks out to wet his own bottom lip. Sheppard starts to say something, but he stops short, face flushing. “Nah, forget it.”
Rodney does a combo shoulder shrug and smart-ass comment, letting his eyes slide past John’s to look at the wall. He didn’t really think Sheppard would have the balls to go for it anyway. They’ve been doing a variation of this song and dance routine for nearly two years now and the only thing all the flirting has ever gotten him is a hard-on. He grabs the cards and starts to shuffle awkwardly - sexual frustration is just part of life in the Pegasus Galaxy.
He’s dealing the next hand, five card stud, and debating about whether or not he can jerk off behind the bathroom screen, when Sheppard starts rummaging in his pack again. Rodney fumbles, cards going everywhere, when Sheppard drops the two bright yellow bags on the mattress.
** -- **
“You’ve got M&Ms!” He both loves and hates Sheppard in that instant, his hand reaching out to snag one of the bags of candy. His tone is reverent, “Peanut M&Ms…king size.” Now Rodney’s the one licking his lips, he can almost taste the combination of thin candy shell, chocolate coating, and peanut.
Sheppard’s hand closes around his wrist and Rodney lets out a little yelp and drops the bag. “Not yet, Rodney.” There’s a smile in Sheppard’s voice, and when Rodney’s eyes flick up the look on Sheppard’s face is pure predator. “I thought we could use them to bet with.”
Each color is assigned a value, yellows are the cheapest, greens are the most expensive, and the other colors fall somewhere in between. Rodney forgets all about his Sheppard-frustration in the face of peanut M&Ms. Sheppard divides the two bags evenly between them, making sure that they each have an equal number of every color. There’s a brown, a red, and a rather sad looking blue M&M left after the division and Sheppard quite deliberately ignores Rodney’s pleading look and pops them into his own mouth.
It’s on now. And Rodney isn’t playing dumb anymore. His smile shows a lot of teeth as he gets down to the business of winning Sheppard’s stash.
Forty-five minutes later Sheppard’s down to seventeen green M&Ms. Rodney has everything else, a riot of multi-colored chocolate peanut goodness in a messy pile in front of him. It’s full dark outside by now, and Rodney’s shoulders are stiff from hunching over the cards. Sheppard’s not buying his wide-eyed Aw shucks, I win again, routine anymore, but instead is watching Rodney with narrowed eyes as he deals out one more hand.
Rodney’s tempted to quit while he’s ahead, because Sheppard looks a little more dangerous than usual. But he’s always held a special place in his heart for the green M&Ms, so he decides to ride it out one more time. When Sheppard says, “Let’s bet it all,” Rodney nods and agrees, “The green ones are my favorite.”
When he loses, he loses spectacularly.
** -- **
Sheppard’s all grins now, full bottom lip stretched so wide that the corners of his eyes are crinkled up. Rodney’s glorious stock-pile of candy has been captured, and the look he gives Sheppard is murderous. This time when his mouth turns down at the corner, it’s genuine.
“Come on Rodney, don’t pout. Easy come, easy go.” Sheppard’s lying on his side at the foot of the bed, propped up on one elbow. And just the sound of Sheppard’s easy drawling voice makes Rodney’s frown deepen. He opens his mouth to say something to guilt Sheppard into sharing when he realizes that the Colonel is doing something highly inappropriate with the M&Ms.
Sheppard has a handful in his palm, and he’s letting them roll between his fingers as he picks out just the right one to pop into his mouth. And Rodney’s never seen an M&M actually savored before. Everybody knows that you’re supposed to bite into the candy shell and chomp down on peanut and chocolate. Sheppard’s sucking on it though, his mouth making a juicy sound as he rolls it around with his tongue.
He realizes with a start that Sheppard is watching him watch Sheppard. Sheppard’s eyes have fallen half-closed and the predatory look is back on his face. Suddenly Rodney feels a twinge of unease, sort of like the time he startled Teyla while she was practicing with her sticks and ended up with a stick shaped bruise across his ribs.
He looks down at his hands to avoid Sheppard’s eyes and sniffs delicately, reverting to a tried and true tactic, “I think my blood sugar is low.”
Sheppard’s laugh sounds like sex, and before Rodney can look up a M&M lands in his lap. A green one. He eats it immediately and it tastes just as good as he remembers, sweet and crunchy and a hint of salt from the peanut. Another M&M lands on the bed in front of him, green again, and Rodney loves that Sheppard has sneaky M&M smuggling ways. He looks up to say as much and realizes that Sheppard and the pile of M&Ms have moved closer.
Rodney thinks he should protest, just for the principle of the matter, because really Sheppard has no concept of personal space. But then a few more green M&Ms get shoved his way and it’s not like he minds actually. Hell, he’s spent a lot of nights wishing that Sheppard was this close to him, sharing a bed with him, all sprawled out like some sort of centerfold in Playgirl’s thigh strap edition.
It occurs to him that Sheppard is sprawled out like a centerfold, black t-shirt riding up his belly, pants perilously low on lean hips, exposing a patch of tanned skin and a line of dark hair that disappears into his waistband. He’s still wearing his empty gun holster and the black line of his thigh-strap bisects one thigh. Rodney’s face is flushing, and he tries to concentrate on the M&Ms, because he’s met his quota of Sheppard-fueled erections for the week.
When no more M&Ms are tossed his way, he reaches a hand out. Sheppard’s hand closes over his wrist again, mirroring his earlier move. But this time Sheppard’s hand jerks Rodney forward until they’re pressed together chest to chest. Sheppard’s face is only inches from Rodney’s, close enough that Rodney can feel the heat of his breath.
He thinks he should complain - he’s sure he can feel M&Ms getting crushed underneath him. But Sheppard smells good and god knows he looks good, and really who’s going to complain about being pressed close to a thigh-strap centerfold?
“You know what they say about the green M&Ms, don’t you?” Sheppard’s voice is that low whisper-drawl that hints of whiskey and sweat. And when he whispers the question into Rodney’s ear Rodney’s whole body feels it.
Rodney’s brain goes blank, and all he can picture are those commercials back when he was stationed at Area 51. The green M&M was a girl, and all the other M&Ms were in love with her. Somehow he doesn’t think that’s what Sheppard’s asking. He’s still shaking his head no when Sheppard kisses him.
THE END
x-posted mckay_sheppard, atlantis_slash, fanfic100 and my lj
click for all my fanfic100 entries
Author: lillyjk
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis, McKay/Sheppard pre-slash, PWP, humor
Rating: PG-13
Word count: @ 1700
Summary: Written for the Urban Legends challenge (green M&Ms are an aphrodisiac). Also for fanfic100 Green prompt (38 down, 62 to go), thanks to the lovely and talented themoononastick for the beta!
Rodney knows he’s in trouble when John breaks out the battered deck of cards.
They’re guests of the Jornas, not prisoners, which means that although they are locked in, the room is relatively comfortable, and they’ve been allowed to keep everything that doesn’t look like a weapon. Today’s cell, oh right, guest quarters, consists of one large room with two beds and a barred window. An ornate screen separates the bedroom area from what passes for a bathroom.
They’ve been allowed to keep their radios, and once Sheppard is assured that Teyla and Ronon are safe he seems singularly unmotivated to find a way out.
Rodney wants to protest, but the food they’ve been provided is good, and the beds are bigger than those atrocities on Atlantis, so he just grumbles a little on principle before claiming the bed furthest from the door.
It’s early yet, and while Rodney would like nothing more than a night’s uninterrupted sleep, he knows that there’s too much caffeine running through his system for sleep to be anywhere close. But it’s been another day of too much walking, and not enough rest, so he strips off his jacket and toes off his shoes before flinging himself down on one of the beds with a grunt.
Sleep is still a long way off, but Rodney’s eyes are closed, so it’s the principle of the thing that makes him let out an irritated sigh when Sheppard starts talking. As usual, Sheppard ignores his irritation and just keeps talking.
“Rodney,” John’s voice has taken on that special wheedling tone he reserves just for Rodney. “You’re not going to sleep now are you?” Rodney feels the bed dip down as John sits down beside him. “It’s still light outside.”
Rodney sighs again, and then opens his eyes to glare at Sheppard. “Please tell me this is not going to be another one of those I’m bored, entertain me missions - because I’m really not in the mood.”
Sheppard does that truly irritating pouting thing with his bottom lip and gives Rodney his best puppy dog eyes. “Come on, Rodney.” He reaches for his discarded pack and starts digging around. That’s when the cards make their appearance.
** -- **
They’re playing on Rodney’s bed. Rodney at the head and Sheppard at the foot with the cards laid out between them. Rodney hates poker, but he’s good at it. Close to six months in Antarctica, and nearly a year in Russia before that, means that Rodney knows how to play every card game on three continents. He toys with Sheppard for the first couple of hands, asking questions about flushes and straights and crowded houses. Sheppard buys into it and Rodney thinks it’s actually pretty cute that Sheppard is so earnest about teaching him the rules.
When Rodney purposefully loses another hand, he makes a comment about losing his shirt. Sheppard is quick to point out that they’re not actually betting on anything. Rodney does that thing with his lips where one side tugs down in the corner and makes a self-deprecating comment about geeks and no skills and how he understands that John doesn’t think they should actually play for anything.
Rodney watches as Sheppard’s eyes drop down to his mouth and then Sheppard’s tongue flicks out to wet his own bottom lip. Sheppard starts to say something, but he stops short, face flushing. “Nah, forget it.”
Rodney does a combo shoulder shrug and smart-ass comment, letting his eyes slide past John’s to look at the wall. He didn’t really think Sheppard would have the balls to go for it anyway. They’ve been doing a variation of this song and dance routine for nearly two years now and the only thing all the flirting has ever gotten him is a hard-on. He grabs the cards and starts to shuffle awkwardly - sexual frustration is just part of life in the Pegasus Galaxy.
He’s dealing the next hand, five card stud, and debating about whether or not he can jerk off behind the bathroom screen, when Sheppard starts rummaging in his pack again. Rodney fumbles, cards going everywhere, when Sheppard drops the two bright yellow bags on the mattress.
** -- **
“You’ve got M&Ms!” He both loves and hates Sheppard in that instant, his hand reaching out to snag one of the bags of candy. His tone is reverent, “Peanut M&Ms…king size.” Now Rodney’s the one licking his lips, he can almost taste the combination of thin candy shell, chocolate coating, and peanut.
Sheppard’s hand closes around his wrist and Rodney lets out a little yelp and drops the bag. “Not yet, Rodney.” There’s a smile in Sheppard’s voice, and when Rodney’s eyes flick up the look on Sheppard’s face is pure predator. “I thought we could use them to bet with.”
Each color is assigned a value, yellows are the cheapest, greens are the most expensive, and the other colors fall somewhere in between. Rodney forgets all about his Sheppard-frustration in the face of peanut M&Ms. Sheppard divides the two bags evenly between them, making sure that they each have an equal number of every color. There’s a brown, a red, and a rather sad looking blue M&M left after the division and Sheppard quite deliberately ignores Rodney’s pleading look and pops them into his own mouth.
It’s on now. And Rodney isn’t playing dumb anymore. His smile shows a lot of teeth as he gets down to the business of winning Sheppard’s stash.
Forty-five minutes later Sheppard’s down to seventeen green M&Ms. Rodney has everything else, a riot of multi-colored chocolate peanut goodness in a messy pile in front of him. It’s full dark outside by now, and Rodney’s shoulders are stiff from hunching over the cards. Sheppard’s not buying his wide-eyed Aw shucks, I win again, routine anymore, but instead is watching Rodney with narrowed eyes as he deals out one more hand.
Rodney’s tempted to quit while he’s ahead, because Sheppard looks a little more dangerous than usual. But he’s always held a special place in his heart for the green M&Ms, so he decides to ride it out one more time. When Sheppard says, “Let’s bet it all,” Rodney nods and agrees, “The green ones are my favorite.”
When he loses, he loses spectacularly.
** -- **
Sheppard’s all grins now, full bottom lip stretched so wide that the corners of his eyes are crinkled up. Rodney’s glorious stock-pile of candy has been captured, and the look he gives Sheppard is murderous. This time when his mouth turns down at the corner, it’s genuine.
“Come on Rodney, don’t pout. Easy come, easy go.” Sheppard’s lying on his side at the foot of the bed, propped up on one elbow. And just the sound of Sheppard’s easy drawling voice makes Rodney’s frown deepen. He opens his mouth to say something to guilt Sheppard into sharing when he realizes that the Colonel is doing something highly inappropriate with the M&Ms.
Sheppard has a handful in his palm, and he’s letting them roll between his fingers as he picks out just the right one to pop into his mouth. And Rodney’s never seen an M&M actually savored before. Everybody knows that you’re supposed to bite into the candy shell and chomp down on peanut and chocolate. Sheppard’s sucking on it though, his mouth making a juicy sound as he rolls it around with his tongue.
He realizes with a start that Sheppard is watching him watch Sheppard. Sheppard’s eyes have fallen half-closed and the predatory look is back on his face. Suddenly Rodney feels a twinge of unease, sort of like the time he startled Teyla while she was practicing with her sticks and ended up with a stick shaped bruise across his ribs.
He looks down at his hands to avoid Sheppard’s eyes and sniffs delicately, reverting to a tried and true tactic, “I think my blood sugar is low.”
Sheppard’s laugh sounds like sex, and before Rodney can look up a M&M lands in his lap. A green one. He eats it immediately and it tastes just as good as he remembers, sweet and crunchy and a hint of salt from the peanut. Another M&M lands on the bed in front of him, green again, and Rodney loves that Sheppard has sneaky M&M smuggling ways. He looks up to say as much and realizes that Sheppard and the pile of M&Ms have moved closer.
Rodney thinks he should protest, just for the principle of the matter, because really Sheppard has no concept of personal space. But then a few more green M&Ms get shoved his way and it’s not like he minds actually. Hell, he’s spent a lot of nights wishing that Sheppard was this close to him, sharing a bed with him, all sprawled out like some sort of centerfold in Playgirl’s thigh strap edition.
It occurs to him that Sheppard is sprawled out like a centerfold, black t-shirt riding up his belly, pants perilously low on lean hips, exposing a patch of tanned skin and a line of dark hair that disappears into his waistband. He’s still wearing his empty gun holster and the black line of his thigh-strap bisects one thigh. Rodney’s face is flushing, and he tries to concentrate on the M&Ms, because he’s met his quota of Sheppard-fueled erections for the week.
When no more M&Ms are tossed his way, he reaches a hand out. Sheppard’s hand closes over his wrist again, mirroring his earlier move. But this time Sheppard’s hand jerks Rodney forward until they’re pressed together chest to chest. Sheppard’s face is only inches from Rodney’s, close enough that Rodney can feel the heat of his breath.
He thinks he should complain - he’s sure he can feel M&Ms getting crushed underneath him. But Sheppard smells good and god knows he looks good, and really who’s going to complain about being pressed close to a thigh-strap centerfold?
“You know what they say about the green M&Ms, don’t you?” Sheppard’s voice is that low whisper-drawl that hints of whiskey and sweat. And when he whispers the question into Rodney’s ear Rodney’s whole body feels it.
Rodney’s brain goes blank, and all he can picture are those commercials back when he was stationed at Area 51. The green M&M was a girl, and all the other M&Ms were in love with her. Somehow he doesn’t think that’s what Sheppard’s asking. He’s still shaking his head no when Sheppard kisses him.
THE END
x-posted mckay_sheppard, atlantis_slash, fanfic100 and my lj
click for all my fanfic100 entries