SGA: The Dreaded Day
Title: The Dreaded Day
Author: lavvyan
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Characters/Pairing: McKay/Sheppard pre-slash
Spoilers: Anything up to and including The Return Pt. 1
Summary: Rodney could just see how it would go: Sheppard and he, sitting on his couch in an uncomfortable silence, with Rodney desperately trying to find a subject, anything, that didn't have to do with Atlantis or Ancients or Earth in general while Sheppard morosely drowned his homesickness in that tepid dishwater the Stateside-Americans called beer.
~~~
The Dreaded Day was going to be a Saturday, which at least meant that no one apart from Rodney was going to suffer. A small consolation, if any, but with the mood his former team leader was bound to be in Rodney wouldn't have wished him on the Orii, who probably hadn't expected someone like Lieutenant Colonel John let's-just-let-them-go-pop-against-the-shield Sheppard when they'd decided to invade the Milky Way. No, Rodney was going to do the self-sacrificing thing once again, for he had invited Sheppard for the weekend. Rodney could just see how it would go: Sheppard and he, sitting on his couch in an uncomfortable silence, with Rodney desperately trying to find a subject, anything, that didn't have to do with Atlantis or Ancients or Earth in general while Sheppard morosely drowned his homesickness in that tepid dishwater the Stateside-Americans called beer.
That scenario wasn't really his idea of a good time.
Things would have been different back in Atlantis. The Dreaded Day would have been perfectly ordinary, although the cooks would've come up with something simple but special for lunch. The team would have found some excuse to spend the afternoon on the mainland, perhaps letting Sheppard fly the scenic route before relaxing on a beach, or just visiting the Athosian settlement. Then after dinner, back in the city, Elizabeth would no doubt have brought out a bottle of wine, Carson and Radek would have turned up, and they'd have spent the rest of the evening together, just them, relaxed and enjoying to have friends. And later, after a few days, there might have been presents, quietly handed over or just left on Sheppard's desk, no fuss, just a quiet way to show 'I care'. Which, surprisingly, Rodney had liked quite a lot.
They weren't on Atlantis, though, they were back on Earth. Which basically meant that formerly simple things, like friendship and belonging, were infinitely more complicated. And that things like The Dreaded Day called for drastic measures.
Whatever those might be.
Two days later, not at all satisfied with the outcome of his struggles but seriously out of time, Rodney collected Sheppard from the airport. And sure enough, the man was every bit as cranky as Rodney had anticipated.
"So, uh, how was your trip?" he asked back in the car, desperately trying to remember if there was any bar between the airport and his apartment where he could get Sheppard incoherently drunk before letting him sleep it off on the bed in the guest room. Sheppard's room, actually, and wow, really? Funny how small epiphanies always occurred in the strangest places.
"I've spent the last few hours on a commercial flight with a pilot who thought that as long as the plane hits the ground it's a landing, McKay. How do you think it was?" Sheppard retorted sarcastically, not even waiting for Rodney's answer before he launched into a long, bitter rant about the many ways his life sucked right now. Rodney knew the text by heart, although it had never been expressed so viciously before. Basically, they both had the same sour complaints: too little respect, or too much of it; brass too old and set in their ways, underlings too young and green; stuck with unwanted jobs, surrounded by strangers. Sheppard's words were biting, venomous, and Rodney felt his heart sink with a sickening lurch.
"We could go for a drink," he suggested, already knowing the answer, "or, hey, are you hungry? There's this place, well, the prices are outrageous but the food is great, and they don't do that thing with the lemon slices everywhere. Or, if you want, we could-"
"What say we just go home, Rodney?" Sheppard interrupted, and Rodney tried to ignore the tiny little flutter in his chest at the sound of that word. It was as if for the colonel, Rodney equalled familiar equalled safe equalled home, or something like that, and the thought was both humbling and exhilarating. It wouldn't save him from Sheppard's spectacularly bad mood, though. And just like that, the overwhelming sense of impending doom was back.
"Sure," Rodney mumbled, paid no attention to Sheppard's surprised glance and concentrated on his driving.
They arrived at the apartment building far too soon, Rodney feeling like he was drenched in cold sweat as he got Sheppard's duffel bag from the back of the car and handed it over. There had never been so many steps to the second floor, and the stairway had certainly never been that steep. Rodney's hands were almost shaking as he unlocked the door, pushed it open, waved Sheppard inside and waited for the inevitable reaction. There was a pause, like a slow blink, and then Sheppard's voice, incredulous.
"McKay?"
Rodney had tried, he honestly had. But astrophysics and baking - although both in their own way involved heat, a variety of ingredients, and the right timing - didn't have all that much to do with one another in the end, and so his hours of adding and weighing and stirring had found their culmination in the saddest little marble cake known to man. In his desperation, Rodney had used a trick he faintly remembered from his mother, which was to coat the whole thing with a thick runny glue of sugar, hide it underneath the contents of a jumbo-sized pack of M&Ms, and stick a candle in the middle. Except the outcome looked like a multi-coloured, miserable piece of road kill - with a candle in the middle.
The red tablecloth with the little white hearts might have been going a little overboard as well, Rodney decided in a rush of sheepish panic when he felt Sheppard go utterly still next to him. Or perhaps the whole idea had simply been plain stupid.
"Ah," Rodney said intelligently, hating the uncertain waver in his voice as he threw a quick sideways glance at Sheppard, saw him stare at the ugly little cake. "Happy birthday?"
Suddenly, inexplicably, Sheppard smiled, although he didn't say a word.
Huh.
Author: lavvyan
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Characters/Pairing: McKay/Sheppard pre-slash
Spoilers: Anything up to and including The Return Pt. 1
Summary: Rodney could just see how it would go: Sheppard and he, sitting on his couch in an uncomfortable silence, with Rodney desperately trying to find a subject, anything, that didn't have to do with Atlantis or Ancients or Earth in general while Sheppard morosely drowned his homesickness in that tepid dishwater the Stateside-Americans called beer.
~~~
The Dreaded Day was going to be a Saturday, which at least meant that no one apart from Rodney was going to suffer. A small consolation, if any, but with the mood his former team leader was bound to be in Rodney wouldn't have wished him on the Orii, who probably hadn't expected someone like Lieutenant Colonel John let's-just-let-them-go-pop-against-the-shield Sheppard when they'd decided to invade the Milky Way. No, Rodney was going to do the self-sacrificing thing once again, for he had invited Sheppard for the weekend. Rodney could just see how it would go: Sheppard and he, sitting on his couch in an uncomfortable silence, with Rodney desperately trying to find a subject, anything, that didn't have to do with Atlantis or Ancients or Earth in general while Sheppard morosely drowned his homesickness in that tepid dishwater the Stateside-Americans called beer.
That scenario wasn't really his idea of a good time.
Things would have been different back in Atlantis. The Dreaded Day would have been perfectly ordinary, although the cooks would've come up with something simple but special for lunch. The team would have found some excuse to spend the afternoon on the mainland, perhaps letting Sheppard fly the scenic route before relaxing on a beach, or just visiting the Athosian settlement. Then after dinner, back in the city, Elizabeth would no doubt have brought out a bottle of wine, Carson and Radek would have turned up, and they'd have spent the rest of the evening together, just them, relaxed and enjoying to have friends. And later, after a few days, there might have been presents, quietly handed over or just left on Sheppard's desk, no fuss, just a quiet way to show 'I care'. Which, surprisingly, Rodney had liked quite a lot.
They weren't on Atlantis, though, they were back on Earth. Which basically meant that formerly simple things, like friendship and belonging, were infinitely more complicated. And that things like The Dreaded Day called for drastic measures.
Whatever those might be.
Two days later, not at all satisfied with the outcome of his struggles but seriously out of time, Rodney collected Sheppard from the airport. And sure enough, the man was every bit as cranky as Rodney had anticipated.
"So, uh, how was your trip?" he asked back in the car, desperately trying to remember if there was any bar between the airport and his apartment where he could get Sheppard incoherently drunk before letting him sleep it off on the bed in the guest room. Sheppard's room, actually, and wow, really? Funny how small epiphanies always occurred in the strangest places.
"I've spent the last few hours on a commercial flight with a pilot who thought that as long as the plane hits the ground it's a landing, McKay. How do you think it was?" Sheppard retorted sarcastically, not even waiting for Rodney's answer before he launched into a long, bitter rant about the many ways his life sucked right now. Rodney knew the text by heart, although it had never been expressed so viciously before. Basically, they both had the same sour complaints: too little respect, or too much of it; brass too old and set in their ways, underlings too young and green; stuck with unwanted jobs, surrounded by strangers. Sheppard's words were biting, venomous, and Rodney felt his heart sink with a sickening lurch.
"We could go for a drink," he suggested, already knowing the answer, "or, hey, are you hungry? There's this place, well, the prices are outrageous but the food is great, and they don't do that thing with the lemon slices everywhere. Or, if you want, we could-"
"What say we just go home, Rodney?" Sheppard interrupted, and Rodney tried to ignore the tiny little flutter in his chest at the sound of that word. It was as if for the colonel, Rodney equalled familiar equalled safe equalled home, or something like that, and the thought was both humbling and exhilarating. It wouldn't save him from Sheppard's spectacularly bad mood, though. And just like that, the overwhelming sense of impending doom was back.
"Sure," Rodney mumbled, paid no attention to Sheppard's surprised glance and concentrated on his driving.
They arrived at the apartment building far too soon, Rodney feeling like he was drenched in cold sweat as he got Sheppard's duffel bag from the back of the car and handed it over. There had never been so many steps to the second floor, and the stairway had certainly never been that steep. Rodney's hands were almost shaking as he unlocked the door, pushed it open, waved Sheppard inside and waited for the inevitable reaction. There was a pause, like a slow blink, and then Sheppard's voice, incredulous.
"McKay?"
Rodney had tried, he honestly had. But astrophysics and baking - although both in their own way involved heat, a variety of ingredients, and the right timing - didn't have all that much to do with one another in the end, and so his hours of adding and weighing and stirring had found their culmination in the saddest little marble cake known to man. In his desperation, Rodney had used a trick he faintly remembered from his mother, which was to coat the whole thing with a thick runny glue of sugar, hide it underneath the contents of a jumbo-sized pack of M&Ms, and stick a candle in the middle. Except the outcome looked like a multi-coloured, miserable piece of road kill - with a candle in the middle.
The red tablecloth with the little white hearts might have been going a little overboard as well, Rodney decided in a rush of sheepish panic when he felt Sheppard go utterly still next to him. Or perhaps the whole idea had simply been plain stupid.
"Ah," Rodney said intelligently, hating the uncertain waver in his voice as he threw a quick sideways glance at Sheppard, saw him stare at the ugly little cake. "Happy birthday?"
Suddenly, inexplicably, Sheppard smiled, although he didn't say a word.
Huh.