Fic: Endings and Beginnings
Fic: Endings and Beginnings
Author: Reulann
Genre: Slash
Recipient: finntasmic
Pairings: Ronon/Rodney, John/Rodney
Rating: NC 17 ? (I’m not good with the rating stuff, maybe it’s still an R, but just to be on the safe side…)
A/N: This story was written for finntasmic and some of the things she’d wanted were: McKay/Sheppard, McKay/Sheppard as seen from another character's POV.
McKay/Dex in any way you can bring yourself to write it.
Combinations such as McShep from the POV of jealous Ronon
I tried my best and hope you enjoy it, although somewhere in there I was sure I wouldn’t be able to write Ronon, I guess it depends on how you like to imagine him. I just thought there had to be more to him than food and monosyllabic answers judging by what was shown in ‘Sateda’
I’m sorry this isn’t beta-read but the lady who normally does this for me decided to take a break from fandom in general and on extremely short notice told me she wouldn’t be able to help me out. I couldn’t find someone else to read it through before the story was due but I plan to have it ready by the time the identity of the authors for the challenge is revealed, thus providing you with the final draft of the story in January, even if it will be somewhat belated. Again, sorry, I hope any mistakes won’t make you dislike it completely.
This said, Finntasmic, I hope you have a wonderful Christmas time ;-)
The heavy crate settled into its allotted place with a satisfying thunk, stirring up a few, scarce dust motes, making them dance in the storage room’s artificial light like demented butterflies. Ronon turned around to look at the space he’d cleared between the newly stacked supplies and the wall and with a satisfied smile on his sweat streaked face he reached for the bottled water on the low stack of boxes next to it.
Strong throat muscles contracted as the cool liquid slid down his parched throat. After quenching his thirst, he used the frayed ends of his tunic to mop up the combination of sweat and dust which had begun to make his skin itch. Normally, there wasn’t much dust to be found anywhere in the city. The Ancients obviously hadn’t been keen on doing such menial things as dusting or cleaning, therefore they’d invented the necessary technology to keep the city reasonably clean. Only the storage area, where goods from Earth sometimes came with the fine layers of dust they had accumulated while sitting in an Earth based storage room, sometimes looked less than pristine.
The changed climate control system in use for the storage rooms apparently meant less efficiency in recycling the air as well as in clearing it of dust, much to the very vocal annoyance of one Rodney McKay. Especially when no one paid attention to the fact that - in his expert opinion - too much dust could kill him. Strangely, this didn’t seem to faze the scientist half as much when he was buried halfway in one ancient Artefact or another, but managed to come up regularly when it was his turn to help with the shifting.
Increasing his efforts to finish as early as possible, Ronon tackled the last of the remaining boxes. The promise of cool water to wash away the accumulated grime was spurring him on to finish for the day, although the bodily work did help him relax, while thinking about his present dilemma. Ronon hated few things as much as he hated the Wraith, but missed chances, at least in this case, came a very close second.
Darkly amused, both at his own re-acclimation to civilization as well as the frequent use of his own shower he’d rapidly become accustomed to, Ronon bent down to collect his weapons, pulling the thick leather belt closed around his hips. Concentrating on the smooth, well-worn leather rather than the thoughts of the person who had played an important part in his new fondness for getting cleaned up. Still, the knowledge of having lost part of something he hadn’t valued enough when it was his for the asking rankled. It also had come with the return to a place he’d had though lost to him forever; Atlantis.
Another sign of his changed perception when it came to life in Atlantis; he wouldn’t have even contemplated taking off his knife while living on the Athosians’ new home-world, hadn’t done so before Sheppard and McKay had shown up at their tent flap, just as Ronon was about to pack up and leave, rather than work for those Genii bastards. To him it didn’t matter in the least that the new Genii government had tried to make amends and win their trust. They had followed a man like Kolya without hesitation; had followed the orders of a man who, in Ronon’s opinion, had shown clearly that he didn’t possess a shred of honour to his name. There was simply nothing they could promise him now that would convince the Satedan that they were any better then their predecessors - namely Cowen and Acastus Kolya.
Lucky for all of them then, that the Terrans had chosen to return to the ancient city, and fight for what had become their true home. The wave of elation he had felt when Sheppard had stepped into the flickering light of the campfire had nearly made him hug the man.
Sweeping one last glance over the now cleared area at the back of the room, cast in shadows from the high wall of carefully sorted boxes in various shapes and sizes, Ronon checked for anything out of place. He knew that as long as the supplies were kept in the appropriate order no one would care what the rest of the room looked like. Still, Ronon liked to use this chance to stow away a few things where they weren’t easily reachable, thus keeping his team supplied with a few niceties to tide them over till the Daedalus’ next supply run.
And, most important of all, keep a stash of power bars and MREs the remains of which would - accidentally - be found shortly after the re-stocking of the city so everything they hadn’t used themselves wouldn’t go to waste. Keeping those extra rations hidden as a secret weapon when it came to keeping their irascible resident genius and team member in a somewhat more mellow state of mind seemed only reasonable. The last time they hadn’t paid attention, one of the botanists had stumbled over the stashed away power bars they had managed to hide from Rodney. Being of a somewhat more giving nature than the intended recipient of said power bars, the man had divided them equally between the members of the science team and the botanists, thus leaving Ronon and Sheppard without the necessary means to ply Rodney with his favourites when he was far away from the comforts of the mess hall and in one of his more abrasive moods because of it. McKay had been thrilled about the treat while Sheppard had cast a look promising dire retribution in Ronon’s direction. They’d learned to take better care to hide their appropriated ‘bargaining chips,’ as Sheppard had named them, because fate had decided to make sure that they had a very interesting time until they could re-stock.
As a result they’d had to get by without the normally tried and tested method to sweeten up McKay. This had been especially annoying, when they’d gone on one of their quite frequent, not so pleasant, ‘do we really have to cross half the planet to get to one underdeveloped village’ missions. The week until the Daedalus had returned to re-supply Atlantis had been somewhat strained for some of them.
Ronon could relate to this fondness of food. After seven years in which he’d had to subsist on what he’d been able to catch himself, or the leftovers found in the ruins of a culled village for food, having the more or less palatable rations they served in the mess hall on a daily basis sometimes did wonders for his own, not always serene, state of mind. And McKay wasn’t really cut out to be a soldier to begin with, at least not the kind of soldier most of the marines, and Ronon himself, were used to.
The scientist hadn’t been used to eating barely edible rations and mystery meat in colours he’d always told them he was sure meat wasn’t supposed to be when one wanted to ingest it without suffering bodily harm. Though McKay had taken to learning the necessary skills to not get his team or himself into unnecessary danger with more enthusiasm than Ronon had anticipated. In fact, he’d already been reasonably calm in a somewhat less than comfortable situation, when they’d met for the first time.
Ronon had always been aware of the fact that his physical appearance served him well when it came to intimidate his opponents. The normal reaction from someone meeting him for the first time, while hanging head first from a tree himself, should have been sheer terror. Would have been, with most of the people he’d met while on the run.
Instead, McKay had seemed a bit nervous but rather polite when he asked to be let down from the trap - and amusing. And at this stage in his existence as a runner, nothing much used to amuse Ronon anymore. McKay had managed it and had kept on doing it on a regular basis in between shouting matches because of Ronon’s perceived stupidity.
Compared to the scientists he had encountered while still a soldier of Sateda, Ronon preferred McKay and his collection of hang-ups over their cold efficiency. The scholars of the Satedan people would have deigned it to be utterly undignified, not to mention beneath them, to take up a weapon in self defence, never mind saving someone else’s life in the process. That’s what soldiers were paid for, in their opinion. Well, they were dead while McKay was still alive. In fact the man had kept on surprising Ronon from the start by getting them all out of seemingly hopeless situations time and again, complaining loudly all the way. But in the end what counted was that he got the job done and the team went home with all body parts still attached, even if some of them had a few extra holes in them.
In the case of the botanist who had strayed where others feared to tread, namely McKay’s food-to-be, Ronon had managed to find a way to sweeten McKay’s mood without bribing the man with food; though consummation of something had played a prominent role in his method to relax the scientist. They both came out of the encounter in a much better mood and very relaxed. When someone commented on Rodney being - for him - almost pleasant, Rodney had flushed a little and claimed exhaustion. Ronon had grinned on the loudmouth and said,“ Made him exercise for half an hour, he’s not bad when he really gets the hang of something,” which made the marine look upon Rodney with new respect and a nervous glance at Ronon. McKay had given him a look that had promised retribution - of the best kind. The kind one remembered with a fond smile when sitting down to breakfast the next morning.
It had really been a shame that Ronon hadn’t been able to use the same method while they’d been on that mission where the natives decided to cover them in mud from head to toe; an initiation ritual into their tribe so McKay would be allowed to visit their shrine and look for what they’d hoped at the time would be a ZPM. Rodney hadn’t been amused when it turned out to be only an old array of survey equipment long run out of power, except for the small amount it drew from that world’s weak sun, which in turn kept the signal, that warned the villagers of intruders, active enough to give them a chance to avoid a culling. It had also been responsible for the scientist’s interest in said village in the first place, because of the strange energy reading he’d collected when they’d first stepped through the gate. To say McKay hadn’t been happy about any of this would have been an understatement of galactic proportions.
Returning home and helping McKay get rid of the mud had been fun though, and the feeling of the wet, silky skin, so much softer than Ronon’s own, bared for his touch remained one of his fondest moments of their time together. Ronon couldn’t suppress a grin at the memory of an indignant, sputtering McKay whose complaints went from a rant about unsavoury heathens and their filthy, superstitious habits to an appraisal of Ronon’s skills in the blink of an eye, while hands, normally gesturing all over the place when the scientist was in mid-rant, wove themselves in Ronon’s wet hair as he knelt on the pale blue tiles, hands spread around solid hips, pulling Rodney closer while he thrust deeply into Ronon’s willing mouth.
Later, after returning the favour, McKay had conceded that Ronon had been right in his initial suggestion to share more than their normal bantering about food. He had enjoyed their little trysts so far and in turn proposed a permanent arrangement until one or both of them found someone to share more than this temporary after mission relief with.
Ronon, knowing quite well who that whished for someone was in McKay’s case, decided he’d be a fool to give up something that made him feel this good. McKay had earned his trust and respect during their months working together and there was no one else at the moment he’d consider getting close to. Too many felt intimidated by him on first sight. If McKay ever had felt that way he’d never shown it, a fact that had amused Ronon from the beginning of their acquaintance.
Maybe if Sheppard hadn’t let himself be fettered by regulations and had acted on what - in Ronon’s opinion - he’d wanted as much as Rodney, Ronon would have stepped back then and given the oblivious scientist a nudge in the right direction. Because that’s what comrades did, they looked out for each other, tried to keep their brothers happy. But Sheppard had never made his wishes known, and Rodney had remained in ignorance of the fact that his desires were returned, leaving it up to Ronon to enjoy what McKay offered him.
Not love or even romance. Ronon didn’t look for those. These emotions did belong to a man who had died when he’d seen his lover consumed by flames. He’d loved her, the man he had been then. Sold his soul to keep her safe, and in the end, had done nothing to change her fate. In the end she had been dead, by Wraith or by fire, though she probably had preferred the latter, had she had to make a choice, to him it was still the same; she was lost to him forever, her frail beauty gone in an instant of heat and despair.
And Rodney, loud, complaining, sometimes overbearing Rodney, he wasn’t frail. The scientist was a sturdy, stubborn and at times oddly endearing presence in Ronon’s life, bringing out pieces of the man he once had been. Nothing would ever rebuild the person he’d been before, his soul was too scarred, too wary of life’s inconsistencies, but one simply couldn’t dwell on one’s misery when faced with the scientist’s enthusiasm for every breakthrough, every new discovery made. McKay made him smile more in the few months they’d been together as lovers than Ronon had done in the last seven years put together. He missed those irrepressible smiles. He missed the lover he’d not appreciated enough while he had him in his bed on a regular basis. And, at one time, it would have been so very easy to stake his claim.
After the Arcturus disaster, when McKay had been in disfavour with Sheppard and most of his own colleagues from the science department, when Ronon himself had felt the strain in his friendship with Teyla most keenly, they’d drifted closer. Not only meeting in Ronon’s quarters for a quick lessening of tension after their sometimes harrowing missions but actively setting aside time to be together.
Seeking comfort from a known and somewhat comforting team mate hadn’t been a new experience for Ronon. It had been quite common on his world when soldiers were without other attachments. Who but your brother, fighting beside you and keeping you safe in the midst of a battle would be a better choice for a lover when you weren’t already married or preferred the female form. With the strange restrictions the inhabitants of Atlantis placed on expressing their body’s needs, Ronon had been careful how he related to the people he worked with.
The Satedan military hadn’t had those strange rules about fraternizing with someone of the same gender but Ronon had learned to adhere to the rules of the people he lived with, mostly, and to skirt around those he found to be superfluous when it suited him and, apparently, so had McKay. He had tried to explain about the politics of the American military and the difference to Canadian laws, but in the end, Ronon had been sure that underneath all those rules it came down to what was most important to a person; to live their life to satisfy others or to stand by one’s own beliefs. He knew for a fact that others, like Lorne and the unlucky botanist who had drawn the wrath of Sheppard down on himself in the form of extremely wet and inhospitable planets to search for new - hopefully eatable - plant life, had managed to find their own set of rules to skirt around. If people noticed as some where bound to in such a close knit community, nothing was mentioned by either party. Sheppard’s loss had been his gain and Ronon had planned to enjoy it as long as their danger-filled life would let him.
To his delight, McKay had been neither awkward nor inhibited in his lovemaking. The man really did enjoy the good things that came his way, like coffee, chocolate or a willing bed mate not afraid to experiment on what would give both of them the highest amount of pleasure. He also started to talk to McKay about everyday occurrences, nothing really personal or too emotionally charged, but in a sense, listening to the other man had helped him regain his own voice. Finally, there was someone to talk to besides himself, and Ronon hadn’t been very keen on talking to thin air just for the sake to hear more than birds, insects, or the faint whining noise of Wraith ships searching their prey.
It had been the most enjoyable time Ronon had had since coming to Atlantis. Training the Marines in his own brand of fighting or trying out the new weapons he’d been introduced to came as a close second, as did the runs with Sheppard, or stickfighting with Teyla on a daily basis.
McKay’s no nonsense manner and his unexpected strength in the most unlikely situations had given Ronon a sense of finally belonging again. And, though he was reluctant to say as much to his lover, he enjoyed the vocal, energetic lovemaking the other man offered. Glad that he’d read McKay right when he’d first approached him, Ronon had started to pity Sheppard for the choice he’d apparently decided he had to make as the military commander of Atlantis. Ronon had respected him for the strength it took to fight the growing desire to be in McKay’s presence on the flimsiest of excuses, because to him it had been so very obvious what it cost Sheppard to step away, every time he got too close. As if it was better to be with the one he desired, constantly fighting against the need to stand too close, to breach personal boundaries and touch McKay whenever possible, than keeping his distance. What Ronon hadn’t counted on was Sheppard finally catching on to what was going on practically right under his nose.
Stretching his arms over his head, enjoying the ripple of well worked muscles down his back Ronon felt a sharp pang of regret for the loss of this connection to McKay. The last time it had been his turn to sort through the contents of storage room five, he’d shared that duty with the scientist which had made it much more enjoyable. Despite the danger of someone walking in on them, he’d coaxed McKay to fuck him behind the questionable security of the storage crates, braced against the wall while the other man moved inside him, leaving both of them in dire need of a shower which ended with McKay spread over Ronon’s bed, all soft, pale flesh and encouragement as Ronon entered him. And the running commentary, delivered in a sex-roughened voice, had made him come almost embarrassingly fast.
Oh, yes, he missed fucking McKay, almost as much as he missed the feeling of the other man’s hot flesh moving inside him, touching all the right places until he lost himself in the pleasure. Until the voices of his past were finally silenced and all he heard was his lover telling him how much he enjoyed being inside him. Although it had been almost two months since the last time, the sounds and the feel of McKay’s body in his arms were still as sharp as if it had been a day ago when last they’d touched.
Tomorrow, the Daedalus would arrive with new supplies for the first time after the return of Sheppard and his people, and since the personnel on Atlantis hadn’t quite returned to its full strength yet, Ronon had volunteered to grapple the rearrangement of the supplies alone. Now, all the transporter technician - most likely Hermiod - would have to do, was to beam the new supplies into their preordained space. He’d wanted to be alone with his memories for a few hours of undisturbed peace until he’d have to face the old routines of pre-mission preparations and the training of Sheppard’s Marines, this time without the certainty of McKay’s presence later on as a buffer between him and the rest of Atlantis. No matter how one looked at it, at the end of the day he and Teyla were still the outsiders, the ones that were different from them. And, sometimes, during the last months, sprawled on his bed late at night he’d wondered if things would have been different had he sought out Teyla instead of McKay.
Carding his hands through his hair he started to fasten the loosened dreads into place. He would have to let this go, let McKay go. After today there would be no more thoughts about things he couldn’t have. But for now, the memories were bittersweet. It had all started here, in this room. Why he’d made his move here instead of a more intimate place, Ronon wasn’t sure. He was used to acting on instinct and most probably had felt that McKay would be receptive to his advances at the time. It had worked out, perfectly so, he’d been right in his assumptions and he hadn’t regretted it. An unlikely place for them to start, an even more unlikely one to end things this room that, he now realized had been a comfort zone for both of them. Neutral ground, and relatively safe, because no one but those on shifting duty themselves - which had been him and McKay - or the mess officer, would have reason to enter the place. Ironically, in a way, Sheppard had brought them together. He probably wouldn’t have let them work in here together had he known what else would result out of their presence here.
Taking stock of their remaining supplies in this way had been Sheppard’s idea. After the one time when, due to laziness on the part of parties still unknown, some of the food stock had passed far enough over the ‘use by’ date to end up giving a good portion of the people eating in the mess hall that evening a mild form of food poisoning, Sheppard had decreed that the sorting of the supply crates would become a scheduled task for the teams, therefore every time someone felt the need to shirk his or her duties the culprit would be easy to find, and no one in their right mind would want half the base after their hide because of over stored powdered eggs. Though Ronon thought it a bit superfluous at the time - they had enough fresh supplies by now that no one would eat something that tasted as bad as that unforgotten batch of reconstituted scrambled eggs had - it made for good exercise in his opinion, something McKay could use more of.
McKay, of course, had had something different to say about that, but then again the man hadn’t been a victim of the scrambled egg disaster which - much to Ronon’s secret amusement - hadn’t stopped him from proclaiming that it had all been a ploy to shorten his lifespan therefore dooming Atlantis to fall prey to the next enemy waiting to overtake the city or harm its inhabitants. It had been fun to tease the scientist, and after the Colonel and Teyla had been called away, Ronon, on a whim, had taken over McKay’s workload, thus reaping the reward of a scientist very willing to repay his work with a much more pleasant activity. After all they’d already been sweaty and covered in dust, or so McKay had claimed. Ronon had, very wisely, kept his opinion to himself and simply enjoyed the feeling of a hot, wet mouth and flexible fingers bringing him off to the background sound of the man’s own enjoyment of their activities.
But all that had been before they’d been exiled from Atlantis. Himself and Teyla, banished to another world along with the Athosians from the mainland, and the Terrans who’d had to return to their homeworld with only the vaguest of hopes that, someday, they would be allowed back into the city that had become home to Ronon as well as the ‘new Lanteans’ as some of Teyla’s people had recently started to call them.
Ronon had known that he’d miss his new found comrades. For someone who had lived alone as long as he’d had to, the constant presence of other beings, that weren’t all set to kill him or hand him over to the Wraith something Ronon hadn’t quite managed to become accustomed to, yet. To have this new life ripped away from him, in only a matter of hours, had been an unsettling experience.
No matter how graciously the Athosians had taken him in, for Ronon it hadn’t been the same. Atlantis had become his home without him noticing his attachment, and Sheppard his chosen commander. That was the way he saw it. As for McKay, who had evolved from nuisance to comrade in arms, to something Ronon hadn’t yet taken the time to define, hadn’t been willing to look at too closely, he’d been sorely missed.
The Athosians, although a lively and very sociable people, didn’t believe in unnecessary banter. After the first week, Ronon had had to concede that he missed the vocal scientist. He had used the by then familiar sound of the other man’s muttered complaints to ground himself on the nights they spent away on missions. Whenever he had felt the encroaching memories of his time as a runner threatening his newfound sense of belonging the string of dire predictions or explanations had been calming.
After his forced return to Sateda, such remembrances had occurred quite frequently and McKay, as if sensing Ronon’s need for his company, had obliged him with his near constant talking when they’d met up for meal times or for some of the scheduled workouts McKay always needed to be reminded of. The regular companionship had reined in Ronon’s restlessness somewhat, and to his secret enjoyment, Rodney’s body had started to change due to their newly established routine as well as the physically challenging missions their team undertook. Over time, the scientist had developed a well muscled set of shoulders and arms, strong enough to hold Ronon’s nightmares at bay on the rare occasions the McKay had stayed the whole night.
Then, shortly before the return of the Ancients and their reclaiming of Atlantis, McKay had started to withdraw and Ronon hadn’t had the time to find out the reason for the other’s standoffishness but had been given a very probable hint in the form of a flesh wound on his biceps as to where the scientists unrest and sudden caution concerning their ‘arrangement’ had been coming from.
Obviously Sheppard had found out about them, and judging by the Colonel’s reaction on the planet with that cursed Wraith device, which had played such havoc with their perception of reality, and had brought their most painful memories back to life, Sheppard hadn’t been happy about this newfound knowledge. The subconscious mind was a funny thing when it came to jealousy and denial. Ronon had learned that lesson from one of his former lovers who’d been unable to make a commitment but unwilling to let Ronon go to someone else. In the end it had cost him his life and left Ronon with yet another set of memories he’d rather forget.
Ronon’s instincts, honed by being on the run for all those years, were seldom wrong. The way Sheppard had acted from the moment they’d set foot through the gate to search for the lost team had made him suspect that something had been off right from the start. Sheppard had snarled at Rodney, even before the device had noticeably started to influence them, and the way he’d disregarded the scientist’s concerns about the cause for their problems with the transmitter and its possible influence on their malfunctioning comms, spoke of something more than the concern for their missing people. It revealed a not quite leashed anger and resentment towards the scientist that had reminded Ronon strongly of the weeks after Arcturus when Sheppard’s trust in McKay had been shaken so badly, although in Ronon’s opinion the chance that McKay wouldn’t always get it right were against them by now. They should have counted themselves lucky that the loss of life had been minimal and that Sheppard and McKay had made it out with their skin mostly intact.
After the mission everything seemed to return more or less to normal between them. Sheppard apologized for shooting him, and McKay had shown up at Ronon’s doorstep when Beckett had released him from the infirmary. Looking to be comforted, and venting his opinion on the good doctor’s ability as a sheep herder, not a doctor - Ronon had seen pictures of these animals and didn’t think they had ever figured prominently in Beckett’s life or he’d be much better with the wildlife they’d sometimes encountered off world - and a very enthusiastic, life affirming blow job. And two weeks later they’d all been gone from Ronon’s life, except for Teyla who tried to disguise her anger and resentment towards the returned Ancients, because some of her people believed them to be their long awaited saviours.
When they had finally been reunited with their friends, McKay had come to Ronon’s reclaimed quarters but instead of a renewal of their former relations, Ronon had been told that Sheppard had finally laid claim to what was rightfully his and Rodney would revert to being his friend and team mate and nothing more. Ronon had found that on this occasion he would have preferred McKay to be not quite as honest as he had been that night.
The man’s face had shown a serene happiness he hadn’t thought the brash scientist capable off and Ronon had found that he didn’t enjoy being the one to be told that they’d be better friends for their more intimate knowledge of each other. He wondered if someone had ever told McKay such a thing or if the man really did believe what he was saying. Then it occurred to him that he had been the one to use words in that respect when they’d started their affair. He’d made it quite clear at the beginning that all that would be between them was the commitment of two team mates who helped each other out when the pressure of a mission or the absence of people they’d loved and lost became too much to bear.
And if sometimes they’d simply indulged to feel alive, to make sure their bodies knew something else besides exhaustion and pain, more fool he, then. Now it was too late to change the outcome of things. He had no idea what had happened between Sheppard and McKay back on their homeworld, but obviously they had made a connection that left no room for him. Ronon knew both his team mates well enough to realize that whatever bound them now would not suffer the presence of a third party and that both men would hold on with all their not inconsiderable determination to their new relationship. And Sheppard, now that he’d allowed himself to take what he had wanted for months, would never let go of McKay, of that much Ronon was certain.
He had missed his chance for something more between himself and McKay but that didn’t mean he stopped desiring what - in retrospect - for too short a time had been his. In trying to keep their trysts on a casual level he had managed to cheat himself out of something good. McKay had become a touchstone for Ronon, both in body and mind. Now, his body reminded him of the fact that he had grown quite used to the frequent bouts of energetic lovemaking they’d shared and he hadn’t been able to suppress the spike of envy and resentment he’d felt when he saw the pair of them in the mess hall at lunch.
Sitting across from Ronon, listening to an animatedly talking Rodney with an indulgent smile on his face, Sheppard had looked up and caught him staring. Ronon had always known that Sheppard could be a formidable enemy when provoked, Kolya and his fallen Genii soldiers testament to the man’s combat skills, but he hadn’t counted on being on the receiving end of the look Sheppard normally reserved for those he perceived to be a threat to his people. In the blink of an eye, Ronon had realized that his status would change instantly from comrade to despised enemy in Sheppard’s eyes, should he ever try to win back McKay’s affections.
Conceding defeat hadn’t come easy to him, it simply wasn’t in his nature to give up without a fight, but in the end Ronon had given a barely perceptible nod which Sheppard had acknowledged with a toothy smile and a slight inclination of his head. Message delivered and received, all that remained for Ronon now were his memories and the determination not to lose the respect and the sorely missed friendship of his team mates, which did include McKay and Sheppard. It wouldn’t be easy, but most things worth having came with a price.
Sheppard had given him a chance at revenge against the wraith, had given him both, a new home and purpose by making him a member of his team, and Ronon owed him for that alone. It would take time and some getting used to, but he’d make it work, somehow. Since his return Rodney had acted around him as if nothing much had changed to the way things had been before their affair, which clarified Ronon’s position in the scheme of things when it came to McKay. Obviously, the man had meant it all those months ago when he’d agreed to the terms of their arrangement and harboured no feelings for him other than those of a friend who had given him some comfort in a time of need and that was that. As always, McKay had seemingly underestimated his impact on people both for the good and the bad, and he probably didn’t suspect that Ronon envied Sheppard his presence or the taste of that clever mouth.
His good mood from earlier gone, Ronon was just about to climb over the crates he had used to hide the goods they wanted to keep from prying eyes when the doors swished open. Startled, he peered through the narrow gap between the high-stacked crates to his right. Company was the last thing he wanted right now and he hoped that whoever this was would grab the supplies they needed and get out so Ronon could get to his room and the well earned, hot shower he planned to indulge in. When he saw who had stumbled into his somewhat dusty sanctuary he barely stifled a curse.
To borrow one of McKay’s favourite phrases, this really wasn’t fair. He should make his presence felt, should simply get out of here and enjoy the sanctuary his quarters provided. Instead his gaze fastened on the two men by the door, anticipation coiling in his gut when he saw the way Sheppard’s eyes roamed over the scientist unsuspecting scientist. McKay had talked to Zelenka over the comm, telling him he’d have an early dinner and would be back in about an hour, he’d barely broken the connection when Sheppard stepped close and pulled him into a heated kiss.
“Are you completely out of your mind?” McKay whispered harshly, gazing at the door as if he expected someone to walk in on them any minute. “You do realize what would happen if one of your eager young marines walked in on us because he felt a craving for an early snack,” but the protest sounded half hearted as he took in his lover’s heated gaze. McKay swallowed whatever he had been about to say and simply relaxed against the wall behind him, his eyes never leaving those of his lover.
Sheppard leaned into the solid frame of the scientist, trusting his lover to keep them balanced while his hands were wandering all over his by now willing captive, loosening buttons and zippers where they went, capturing the moan McKay issued with his own, hungry mouth. There was a flash of blue turning to red, as the door lights signalled a complete lockdown until Sheppard or probably another gene carrier commanded them to open. Ronon would bet his hunting knife that in this case they’d only open for Sheppard. He swallowed harshly, closing his eyes and drawing in a deep breath to keep his suddenly aroused body under control, when he heard McKay calling out his lovers name, “yes, John… hnnn just not quite so fast… okay, okay, that’s good, you can keep doing that, oh…”
Ronon watched as McKay pulled Sheppard’s willing body closer and reciprocated wholeheartedly. The kiss grew steadily more heated and Sheppard insinuated himself between McKay’s slightly spread legs, moving as close to his lover as possible, capturing the slightly smaller man more firmly between his own body and the wall, as if afraid he might run.
Ronon tried to suppress the instant urge to go out there and stop this before it went any further, to get away from them, anywhere he wouldn’t need to hear this. His treacherous body seemingly had developed a mind of its own, keeping him in the shadows of the tall boxes, while his leather pants started to feel much too tight for his liking. He couldn’t help another glance in the direction of the lovers and that proved to be his undoing.
Behind his cover, Ronon felt his whole body react to the sight and sound of McKay’s passion, remembered how it would feel for Sheppard to be pressed close to that sturdy body. The heat their close contact would generate. How it would feel when those strong arms, now wrapped around Sheppard’s shoulder and waist, would keep him from moving anywhere except closer to his lover. From where Ronon was standing the Colonel didn’t look like he had any intention of moving away from his companion any time soon.
Sheppard moved his hands between them to take off McKay’s shirt, revealing the broad, smooth chest to his hungry gaze. “I’ve got everything under control Rodney, trust me…” He moaned as McKay thrust his hips forward, rubbing their still clothed erections together. “Oh, yeah. Knew you’d like this… need to touch you… need you, Rodney.” He smiled as his lovers’ hands clenched tightly, holding on to his t-shirt as if it was all that kept him standing. Bowing his head he closed his mouth over one prominent nipple and nipped it sharply, eliciting another moan, this one deeper and more wanton than its predecessor.
Ronon’s soft groan was masked by the sound McKay made in the back of his throat when he leaned back his head, exposing even more of his pale skin for his lover’s pleasure. The dark head moved, obstructing Ronon’s view as Sheppard nip-kissed his way up to the strong neck. He could almost feel the desire in those heated kisses on his own flesh as Sheppard followed the vulnerable throat upwards to kiss the space behind McKay’s ear which would evoke a full body shudder in the other man.
Watching the darker skin of Sheppard’s hand now stroking down to open his lover’s pants against McKay’s paleness made Ronon want to step closer, to reach out and add his caresses to Sheppard’s. The touch-memory of that desired skin, the way it gave a little under a lovers’ touch, made his fingers itch. He sank slowly down until he knelt on the dusty floor, betrayed by his body’s reaction, thighs spread to accommodate his growing erection, fingers clutching the bottom of his tunic to keep himself from reaching for the opening of his pants. Clenching his eyes closed and gritting his teeth to keep from uttering the too loud moan building in his own throat, Ronon tried to ignore the two men. He wouldn’t do this, he had promised to let this go, to forget the sound, feel and taste of McKay in the throes of passion.
A hoarse cry from Sheppard made him look up again only to see McKay, on his knees now, sliding clever hands over Sheppard’s hips, pulling him forward, until the talented mouth Ronon could almost feel on his own aroused flesh, enclosed his lover’s hardness. Pulling Sheppard even deeper into his hungry mouth, McKay moaned again and Ronon couldn’t resist any longer.
Hastily opening his fly he took hold of himself with hands shaking with desire, his breathing harsh to his own ears but apparently not loud enough to disturb the lovers, engrossed in each other’s pleasure. Clenching his eyes shut, he began to stroke himself, trying to get this over with so he could think of a way out of this situation with the remains of his dignity intact.
He’d hoped that McKay would suck Sheppard off and they’d move out of here, until he heard Sheppard’s throaty “I want to fuck you,” and prayed for his own sanity of mind that McKay would decline, knowing that he wouldn’t. Ronon didn’t need to hear the breathless voice telling Sheppard to hurry. He’d seen the other man in various stages of arousal before and while he’d never looked at Ronon like he now watched every move Sheppard made, Ronon knew that nothing short of an emergency would make McKay stop this now. With a feeling of dread, he finally gave in to the inevitable, thinking that he could at least try to get as much out of this as possible. The rustling of clothes being shed made him look at the two men again.
Avidly he watched, as McKay spread his jacket over the top of one of the sturdier, lower crates, gripping the edges of the wood through the fabric as he lay back, awaiting his eager lover. Sheppard stepped out of the tangled pants and underwear, bending down to extract something from one of the pockets. McKay’s eyes went wide when he saw the lube in Sheppard’s hand.
“Wait, you planned this? What made you think…” but Sheppard’s fingers, brushing softly over his mouth, silenced any complaint McKay had been about to make. Instead, he nipped at the presumptuous digits, judging by Sheppard’s husky laugh not too hard and fastened his gaze on his lover’s arousal, licking suddenly dry lips, while his lover placed the small container he held near McKay’s head.
“Oh, okay. Planning is good, in fact, I like a good plan.” He tried to say something more but Sheppard chose this moment to kiss him deeply again, stepping between the spread thighs and cradling his lovers head gently in his hands, taking his time with the kiss. Their mouths clung together desperately one moment, only to separate almost completely until Sheppard murmured something Ronon couldn’t quite catch against the panting mouth beneath his own… “Shush now… just relax. Yeah, that’s it. Listen to me, listen…” and they were kissing again; tender, consuming kisses that made Ronon look away, shaking with his own desire as he listened to the sounds of their lovemaking.
The sudden, near silence made him look up again and he saw Sheppard, curled almost protectively over Rodney’s prone form, the other man’s legs locked around Sheppard’s hips, pulling him into his lover. Sheppard was whispering too low for Ronon to hear now, but whatever it was had made McKay go almost completely silent. The constant babbling Ronon had grown used to during their shared encounters completely absent while Rodney clung to every word his lover spoke for his ears alone.
It hurt to watch this almost completely silent intimacy, not disturbed by McKay’s need to hide behind the noise he surrounded himself with in order to keep people at bay. In that moment what took place between the two men was so utterly different from his experiences with the lover Ronon had known, that it could have been another person who was laid out there, wrapped around Sheppard so tightly that it was have hard to see where one man ended and the other began.
Desire, shivering down his spine and centring in his own aching erection made Ronon tighten his grip on his own, neglected flesh. Imagining it was himself who was sliding slowly in and out of that generous body, remembering how it felt, to sink into that tight heat, welcomed and wanted, able to taste the wide, eager mouth and forget everything else for precious, too short minutes.
He muffled his moan against his outstretched arm as he came hard, not caring that he dripped come on the floor, only knowing that he’d heard Sheppard come in the same instant he had, crying out Rodney’s name in time with his lover’s own shout of release.
He looked over at the two men. Sheppard now almost curled up atop the crate as well, held in place by McKay’s arms around him. They smiled at each other, an intimate, tender expression on Sheppard’s face as he stroked McKay’s cheek with the back of the fingers of his right hand and McKay turned his head, brushing a kiss against the caressing digits. A contended murmur escaped the scientist as he was cleaned up with a piece of clothing that must have been Sheppard’s shorts, because he slipped back into his discarded pants, naked, to the sound of McKay’s teasing.
Ronon remained kneeling in the cover of his hiding place until the sound of the opening and closing door told him that he was, finally, alone. He needed to gather his scattered wits and clear his head before he could face both men again. Maybe he’d take Teyla up on the hunting trip on the mainland she’d proposed earlier that day. He needed time to think, to find himself again and, despite the bitter taste of regret at the back of his throat, Ronon had survived worse. He would survive this as well. He may have lost a lover, but he could still claim the other man as his friend. Both of them, because he knew that as long as he was loyal to them they’d stand by him, no matter what the Wraith or anyone else in this galaxy threw at them. And, sometimes, trusted friends had to be enough.
He didn’t see the darkly satisfied glance Sheppard cast in his direction before he turned away, nor did he see the smug smile the other man gave his equally oblivious lover. At the door of the storage room, sharp hazel eyes narrowed in concentration as the Colonel turned off the life signs detector before he put it back into his pants pocket with his now soiled underwear, not wanting to alert Rodney to the third party present in the room. Secure in the knowledge that he’d made his point John kissed his lover’s still smiling mouth, enjoying the taste he’d only recently become accustomed to.
It was up to Ronon now how he dealt with what he’d learned today, but John would keep what was his. And McKay was his for as long as they both lived. The tall warrior was a valued member of their team as well as a friend, and it would hurt Rodney and John, both, to lose that friendship. But what John had seen in the Satedan’s eyes when he watched Rodney today had told him that something had to be done to clear things up, to draw clear lines of where each of them stood. This could either be the reconstruction of their relationship as team-mates and friends or it would end the Satedan’s stay in Atlantis.
While John would regret the latter, he was reasonably sure that Ronon would stay. Teyla would see to it, if he’d read the signs right and Rodney would remain happily oblivious to what had transpired between the lover who had been and the one who would stay until the end. Sometimes, life was really good. He smiled, as Rodney pulled him out of the door, watching a shadow move out of the room’s darkest corner and thought about the upcoming mission tomorrow and everything would work itself out in time.
##
Author: Reulann
Genre: Slash
Recipient: finntasmic
Pairings: Ronon/Rodney, John/Rodney
Rating: NC 17 ? (I’m not good with the rating stuff, maybe it’s still an R, but just to be on the safe side…)
A/N: This story was written for finntasmic and some of the things she’d wanted were: McKay/Sheppard, McKay/Sheppard as seen from another character's POV.
McKay/Dex in any way you can bring yourself to write it.
Combinations such as McShep from the POV of jealous Ronon
I tried my best and hope you enjoy it, although somewhere in there I was sure I wouldn’t be able to write Ronon, I guess it depends on how you like to imagine him. I just thought there had to be more to him than food and monosyllabic answers judging by what was shown in ‘Sateda’
I’m sorry this isn’t beta-read but the lady who normally does this for me decided to take a break from fandom in general and on extremely short notice told me she wouldn’t be able to help me out. I couldn’t find someone else to read it through before the story was due but I plan to have it ready by the time the identity of the authors for the challenge is revealed, thus providing you with the final draft of the story in January, even if it will be somewhat belated. Again, sorry, I hope any mistakes won’t make you dislike it completely.
This said, Finntasmic, I hope you have a wonderful Christmas time ;-)
The heavy crate settled into its allotted place with a satisfying thunk, stirring up a few, scarce dust motes, making them dance in the storage room’s artificial light like demented butterflies. Ronon turned around to look at the space he’d cleared between the newly stacked supplies and the wall and with a satisfied smile on his sweat streaked face he reached for the bottled water on the low stack of boxes next to it.
Strong throat muscles contracted as the cool liquid slid down his parched throat. After quenching his thirst, he used the frayed ends of his tunic to mop up the combination of sweat and dust which had begun to make his skin itch. Normally, there wasn’t much dust to be found anywhere in the city. The Ancients obviously hadn’t been keen on doing such menial things as dusting or cleaning, therefore they’d invented the necessary technology to keep the city reasonably clean. Only the storage area, where goods from Earth sometimes came with the fine layers of dust they had accumulated while sitting in an Earth based storage room, sometimes looked less than pristine.
The changed climate control system in use for the storage rooms apparently meant less efficiency in recycling the air as well as in clearing it of dust, much to the very vocal annoyance of one Rodney McKay. Especially when no one paid attention to the fact that - in his expert opinion - too much dust could kill him. Strangely, this didn’t seem to faze the scientist half as much when he was buried halfway in one ancient Artefact or another, but managed to come up regularly when it was his turn to help with the shifting.
Increasing his efforts to finish as early as possible, Ronon tackled the last of the remaining boxes. The promise of cool water to wash away the accumulated grime was spurring him on to finish for the day, although the bodily work did help him relax, while thinking about his present dilemma. Ronon hated few things as much as he hated the Wraith, but missed chances, at least in this case, came a very close second.
Darkly amused, both at his own re-acclimation to civilization as well as the frequent use of his own shower he’d rapidly become accustomed to, Ronon bent down to collect his weapons, pulling the thick leather belt closed around his hips. Concentrating on the smooth, well-worn leather rather than the thoughts of the person who had played an important part in his new fondness for getting cleaned up. Still, the knowledge of having lost part of something he hadn’t valued enough when it was his for the asking rankled. It also had come with the return to a place he’d had though lost to him forever; Atlantis.
Another sign of his changed perception when it came to life in Atlantis; he wouldn’t have even contemplated taking off his knife while living on the Athosians’ new home-world, hadn’t done so before Sheppard and McKay had shown up at their tent flap, just as Ronon was about to pack up and leave, rather than work for those Genii bastards. To him it didn’t matter in the least that the new Genii government had tried to make amends and win their trust. They had followed a man like Kolya without hesitation; had followed the orders of a man who, in Ronon’s opinion, had shown clearly that he didn’t possess a shred of honour to his name. There was simply nothing they could promise him now that would convince the Satedan that they were any better then their predecessors - namely Cowen and Acastus Kolya.
Lucky for all of them then, that the Terrans had chosen to return to the ancient city, and fight for what had become their true home. The wave of elation he had felt when Sheppard had stepped into the flickering light of the campfire had nearly made him hug the man.
Sweeping one last glance over the now cleared area at the back of the room, cast in shadows from the high wall of carefully sorted boxes in various shapes and sizes, Ronon checked for anything out of place. He knew that as long as the supplies were kept in the appropriate order no one would care what the rest of the room looked like. Still, Ronon liked to use this chance to stow away a few things where they weren’t easily reachable, thus keeping his team supplied with a few niceties to tide them over till the Daedalus’ next supply run.
And, most important of all, keep a stash of power bars and MREs the remains of which would - accidentally - be found shortly after the re-stocking of the city so everything they hadn’t used themselves wouldn’t go to waste. Keeping those extra rations hidden as a secret weapon when it came to keeping their irascible resident genius and team member in a somewhat more mellow state of mind seemed only reasonable. The last time they hadn’t paid attention, one of the botanists had stumbled over the stashed away power bars they had managed to hide from Rodney. Being of a somewhat more giving nature than the intended recipient of said power bars, the man had divided them equally between the members of the science team and the botanists, thus leaving Ronon and Sheppard without the necessary means to ply Rodney with his favourites when he was far away from the comforts of the mess hall and in one of his more abrasive moods because of it. McKay had been thrilled about the treat while Sheppard had cast a look promising dire retribution in Ronon’s direction. They’d learned to take better care to hide their appropriated ‘bargaining chips,’ as Sheppard had named them, because fate had decided to make sure that they had a very interesting time until they could re-stock.
As a result they’d had to get by without the normally tried and tested method to sweeten up McKay. This had been especially annoying, when they’d gone on one of their quite frequent, not so pleasant, ‘do we really have to cross half the planet to get to one underdeveloped village’ missions. The week until the Daedalus had returned to re-supply Atlantis had been somewhat strained for some of them.
Ronon could relate to this fondness of food. After seven years in which he’d had to subsist on what he’d been able to catch himself, or the leftovers found in the ruins of a culled village for food, having the more or less palatable rations they served in the mess hall on a daily basis sometimes did wonders for his own, not always serene, state of mind. And McKay wasn’t really cut out to be a soldier to begin with, at least not the kind of soldier most of the marines, and Ronon himself, were used to.
The scientist hadn’t been used to eating barely edible rations and mystery meat in colours he’d always told them he was sure meat wasn’t supposed to be when one wanted to ingest it without suffering bodily harm. Though McKay had taken to learning the necessary skills to not get his team or himself into unnecessary danger with more enthusiasm than Ronon had anticipated. In fact, he’d already been reasonably calm in a somewhat less than comfortable situation, when they’d met for the first time.
Ronon had always been aware of the fact that his physical appearance served him well when it came to intimidate his opponents. The normal reaction from someone meeting him for the first time, while hanging head first from a tree himself, should have been sheer terror. Would have been, with most of the people he’d met while on the run.
Instead, McKay had seemed a bit nervous but rather polite when he asked to be let down from the trap - and amusing. And at this stage in his existence as a runner, nothing much used to amuse Ronon anymore. McKay had managed it and had kept on doing it on a regular basis in between shouting matches because of Ronon’s perceived stupidity.
Compared to the scientists he had encountered while still a soldier of Sateda, Ronon preferred McKay and his collection of hang-ups over their cold efficiency. The scholars of the Satedan people would have deigned it to be utterly undignified, not to mention beneath them, to take up a weapon in self defence, never mind saving someone else’s life in the process. That’s what soldiers were paid for, in their opinion. Well, they were dead while McKay was still alive. In fact the man had kept on surprising Ronon from the start by getting them all out of seemingly hopeless situations time and again, complaining loudly all the way. But in the end what counted was that he got the job done and the team went home with all body parts still attached, even if some of them had a few extra holes in them.
In the case of the botanist who had strayed where others feared to tread, namely McKay’s food-to-be, Ronon had managed to find a way to sweeten McKay’s mood without bribing the man with food; though consummation of something had played a prominent role in his method to relax the scientist. They both came out of the encounter in a much better mood and very relaxed. When someone commented on Rodney being - for him - almost pleasant, Rodney had flushed a little and claimed exhaustion. Ronon had grinned on the loudmouth and said,“ Made him exercise for half an hour, he’s not bad when he really gets the hang of something,” which made the marine look upon Rodney with new respect and a nervous glance at Ronon. McKay had given him a look that had promised retribution - of the best kind. The kind one remembered with a fond smile when sitting down to breakfast the next morning.
It had really been a shame that Ronon hadn’t been able to use the same method while they’d been on that mission where the natives decided to cover them in mud from head to toe; an initiation ritual into their tribe so McKay would be allowed to visit their shrine and look for what they’d hoped at the time would be a ZPM. Rodney hadn’t been amused when it turned out to be only an old array of survey equipment long run out of power, except for the small amount it drew from that world’s weak sun, which in turn kept the signal, that warned the villagers of intruders, active enough to give them a chance to avoid a culling. It had also been responsible for the scientist’s interest in said village in the first place, because of the strange energy reading he’d collected when they’d first stepped through the gate. To say McKay hadn’t been happy about any of this would have been an understatement of galactic proportions.
Returning home and helping McKay get rid of the mud had been fun though, and the feeling of the wet, silky skin, so much softer than Ronon’s own, bared for his touch remained one of his fondest moments of their time together. Ronon couldn’t suppress a grin at the memory of an indignant, sputtering McKay whose complaints went from a rant about unsavoury heathens and their filthy, superstitious habits to an appraisal of Ronon’s skills in the blink of an eye, while hands, normally gesturing all over the place when the scientist was in mid-rant, wove themselves in Ronon’s wet hair as he knelt on the pale blue tiles, hands spread around solid hips, pulling Rodney closer while he thrust deeply into Ronon’s willing mouth.
Later, after returning the favour, McKay had conceded that Ronon had been right in his initial suggestion to share more than their normal bantering about food. He had enjoyed their little trysts so far and in turn proposed a permanent arrangement until one or both of them found someone to share more than this temporary after mission relief with.
Ronon, knowing quite well who that whished for someone was in McKay’s case, decided he’d be a fool to give up something that made him feel this good. McKay had earned his trust and respect during their months working together and there was no one else at the moment he’d consider getting close to. Too many felt intimidated by him on first sight. If McKay ever had felt that way he’d never shown it, a fact that had amused Ronon from the beginning of their acquaintance.
Maybe if Sheppard hadn’t let himself be fettered by regulations and had acted on what - in Ronon’s opinion - he’d wanted as much as Rodney, Ronon would have stepped back then and given the oblivious scientist a nudge in the right direction. Because that’s what comrades did, they looked out for each other, tried to keep their brothers happy. But Sheppard had never made his wishes known, and Rodney had remained in ignorance of the fact that his desires were returned, leaving it up to Ronon to enjoy what McKay offered him.
Not love or even romance. Ronon didn’t look for those. These emotions did belong to a man who had died when he’d seen his lover consumed by flames. He’d loved her, the man he had been then. Sold his soul to keep her safe, and in the end, had done nothing to change her fate. In the end she had been dead, by Wraith or by fire, though she probably had preferred the latter, had she had to make a choice, to him it was still the same; she was lost to him forever, her frail beauty gone in an instant of heat and despair.
And Rodney, loud, complaining, sometimes overbearing Rodney, he wasn’t frail. The scientist was a sturdy, stubborn and at times oddly endearing presence in Ronon’s life, bringing out pieces of the man he once had been. Nothing would ever rebuild the person he’d been before, his soul was too scarred, too wary of life’s inconsistencies, but one simply couldn’t dwell on one’s misery when faced with the scientist’s enthusiasm for every breakthrough, every new discovery made. McKay made him smile more in the few months they’d been together as lovers than Ronon had done in the last seven years put together. He missed those irrepressible smiles. He missed the lover he’d not appreciated enough while he had him in his bed on a regular basis. And, at one time, it would have been so very easy to stake his claim.
After the Arcturus disaster, when McKay had been in disfavour with Sheppard and most of his own colleagues from the science department, when Ronon himself had felt the strain in his friendship with Teyla most keenly, they’d drifted closer. Not only meeting in Ronon’s quarters for a quick lessening of tension after their sometimes harrowing missions but actively setting aside time to be together.
Seeking comfort from a known and somewhat comforting team mate hadn’t been a new experience for Ronon. It had been quite common on his world when soldiers were without other attachments. Who but your brother, fighting beside you and keeping you safe in the midst of a battle would be a better choice for a lover when you weren’t already married or preferred the female form. With the strange restrictions the inhabitants of Atlantis placed on expressing their body’s needs, Ronon had been careful how he related to the people he worked with.
The Satedan military hadn’t had those strange rules about fraternizing with someone of the same gender but Ronon had learned to adhere to the rules of the people he lived with, mostly, and to skirt around those he found to be superfluous when it suited him and, apparently, so had McKay. He had tried to explain about the politics of the American military and the difference to Canadian laws, but in the end, Ronon had been sure that underneath all those rules it came down to what was most important to a person; to live their life to satisfy others or to stand by one’s own beliefs. He knew for a fact that others, like Lorne and the unlucky botanist who had drawn the wrath of Sheppard down on himself in the form of extremely wet and inhospitable planets to search for new - hopefully eatable - plant life, had managed to find their own set of rules to skirt around. If people noticed as some where bound to in such a close knit community, nothing was mentioned by either party. Sheppard’s loss had been his gain and Ronon had planned to enjoy it as long as their danger-filled life would let him.
To his delight, McKay had been neither awkward nor inhibited in his lovemaking. The man really did enjoy the good things that came his way, like coffee, chocolate or a willing bed mate not afraid to experiment on what would give both of them the highest amount of pleasure. He also started to talk to McKay about everyday occurrences, nothing really personal or too emotionally charged, but in a sense, listening to the other man had helped him regain his own voice. Finally, there was someone to talk to besides himself, and Ronon hadn’t been very keen on talking to thin air just for the sake to hear more than birds, insects, or the faint whining noise of Wraith ships searching their prey.
It had been the most enjoyable time Ronon had had since coming to Atlantis. Training the Marines in his own brand of fighting or trying out the new weapons he’d been introduced to came as a close second, as did the runs with Sheppard, or stickfighting with Teyla on a daily basis.
McKay’s no nonsense manner and his unexpected strength in the most unlikely situations had given Ronon a sense of finally belonging again. And, though he was reluctant to say as much to his lover, he enjoyed the vocal, energetic lovemaking the other man offered. Glad that he’d read McKay right when he’d first approached him, Ronon had started to pity Sheppard for the choice he’d apparently decided he had to make as the military commander of Atlantis. Ronon had respected him for the strength it took to fight the growing desire to be in McKay’s presence on the flimsiest of excuses, because to him it had been so very obvious what it cost Sheppard to step away, every time he got too close. As if it was better to be with the one he desired, constantly fighting against the need to stand too close, to breach personal boundaries and touch McKay whenever possible, than keeping his distance. What Ronon hadn’t counted on was Sheppard finally catching on to what was going on practically right under his nose.
Stretching his arms over his head, enjoying the ripple of well worked muscles down his back Ronon felt a sharp pang of regret for the loss of this connection to McKay. The last time it had been his turn to sort through the contents of storage room five, he’d shared that duty with the scientist which had made it much more enjoyable. Despite the danger of someone walking in on them, he’d coaxed McKay to fuck him behind the questionable security of the storage crates, braced against the wall while the other man moved inside him, leaving both of them in dire need of a shower which ended with McKay spread over Ronon’s bed, all soft, pale flesh and encouragement as Ronon entered him. And the running commentary, delivered in a sex-roughened voice, had made him come almost embarrassingly fast.
Oh, yes, he missed fucking McKay, almost as much as he missed the feeling of the other man’s hot flesh moving inside him, touching all the right places until he lost himself in the pleasure. Until the voices of his past were finally silenced and all he heard was his lover telling him how much he enjoyed being inside him. Although it had been almost two months since the last time, the sounds and the feel of McKay’s body in his arms were still as sharp as if it had been a day ago when last they’d touched.
Tomorrow, the Daedalus would arrive with new supplies for the first time after the return of Sheppard and his people, and since the personnel on Atlantis hadn’t quite returned to its full strength yet, Ronon had volunteered to grapple the rearrangement of the supplies alone. Now, all the transporter technician - most likely Hermiod - would have to do, was to beam the new supplies into their preordained space. He’d wanted to be alone with his memories for a few hours of undisturbed peace until he’d have to face the old routines of pre-mission preparations and the training of Sheppard’s Marines, this time without the certainty of McKay’s presence later on as a buffer between him and the rest of Atlantis. No matter how one looked at it, at the end of the day he and Teyla were still the outsiders, the ones that were different from them. And, sometimes, during the last months, sprawled on his bed late at night he’d wondered if things would have been different had he sought out Teyla instead of McKay.
Carding his hands through his hair he started to fasten the loosened dreads into place. He would have to let this go, let McKay go. After today there would be no more thoughts about things he couldn’t have. But for now, the memories were bittersweet. It had all started here, in this room. Why he’d made his move here instead of a more intimate place, Ronon wasn’t sure. He was used to acting on instinct and most probably had felt that McKay would be receptive to his advances at the time. It had worked out, perfectly so, he’d been right in his assumptions and he hadn’t regretted it. An unlikely place for them to start, an even more unlikely one to end things this room that, he now realized had been a comfort zone for both of them. Neutral ground, and relatively safe, because no one but those on shifting duty themselves - which had been him and McKay - or the mess officer, would have reason to enter the place. Ironically, in a way, Sheppard had brought them together. He probably wouldn’t have let them work in here together had he known what else would result out of their presence here.
Taking stock of their remaining supplies in this way had been Sheppard’s idea. After the one time when, due to laziness on the part of parties still unknown, some of the food stock had passed far enough over the ‘use by’ date to end up giving a good portion of the people eating in the mess hall that evening a mild form of food poisoning, Sheppard had decreed that the sorting of the supply crates would become a scheduled task for the teams, therefore every time someone felt the need to shirk his or her duties the culprit would be easy to find, and no one in their right mind would want half the base after their hide because of over stored powdered eggs. Though Ronon thought it a bit superfluous at the time - they had enough fresh supplies by now that no one would eat something that tasted as bad as that unforgotten batch of reconstituted scrambled eggs had - it made for good exercise in his opinion, something McKay could use more of.
McKay, of course, had had something different to say about that, but then again the man hadn’t been a victim of the scrambled egg disaster which - much to Ronon’s secret amusement - hadn’t stopped him from proclaiming that it had all been a ploy to shorten his lifespan therefore dooming Atlantis to fall prey to the next enemy waiting to overtake the city or harm its inhabitants. It had been fun to tease the scientist, and after the Colonel and Teyla had been called away, Ronon, on a whim, had taken over McKay’s workload, thus reaping the reward of a scientist very willing to repay his work with a much more pleasant activity. After all they’d already been sweaty and covered in dust, or so McKay had claimed. Ronon had, very wisely, kept his opinion to himself and simply enjoyed the feeling of a hot, wet mouth and flexible fingers bringing him off to the background sound of the man’s own enjoyment of their activities.
But all that had been before they’d been exiled from Atlantis. Himself and Teyla, banished to another world along with the Athosians from the mainland, and the Terrans who’d had to return to their homeworld with only the vaguest of hopes that, someday, they would be allowed back into the city that had become home to Ronon as well as the ‘new Lanteans’ as some of Teyla’s people had recently started to call them.
Ronon had known that he’d miss his new found comrades. For someone who had lived alone as long as he’d had to, the constant presence of other beings, that weren’t all set to kill him or hand him over to the Wraith something Ronon hadn’t quite managed to become accustomed to, yet. To have this new life ripped away from him, in only a matter of hours, had been an unsettling experience.
No matter how graciously the Athosians had taken him in, for Ronon it hadn’t been the same. Atlantis had become his home without him noticing his attachment, and Sheppard his chosen commander. That was the way he saw it. As for McKay, who had evolved from nuisance to comrade in arms, to something Ronon hadn’t yet taken the time to define, hadn’t been willing to look at too closely, he’d been sorely missed.
The Athosians, although a lively and very sociable people, didn’t believe in unnecessary banter. After the first week, Ronon had had to concede that he missed the vocal scientist. He had used the by then familiar sound of the other man’s muttered complaints to ground himself on the nights they spent away on missions. Whenever he had felt the encroaching memories of his time as a runner threatening his newfound sense of belonging the string of dire predictions or explanations had been calming.
After his forced return to Sateda, such remembrances had occurred quite frequently and McKay, as if sensing Ronon’s need for his company, had obliged him with his near constant talking when they’d met up for meal times or for some of the scheduled workouts McKay always needed to be reminded of. The regular companionship had reined in Ronon’s restlessness somewhat, and to his secret enjoyment, Rodney’s body had started to change due to their newly established routine as well as the physically challenging missions their team undertook. Over time, the scientist had developed a well muscled set of shoulders and arms, strong enough to hold Ronon’s nightmares at bay on the rare occasions the McKay had stayed the whole night.
Then, shortly before the return of the Ancients and their reclaiming of Atlantis, McKay had started to withdraw and Ronon hadn’t had the time to find out the reason for the other’s standoffishness but had been given a very probable hint in the form of a flesh wound on his biceps as to where the scientists unrest and sudden caution concerning their ‘arrangement’ had been coming from.
Obviously Sheppard had found out about them, and judging by the Colonel’s reaction on the planet with that cursed Wraith device, which had played such havoc with their perception of reality, and had brought their most painful memories back to life, Sheppard hadn’t been happy about this newfound knowledge. The subconscious mind was a funny thing when it came to jealousy and denial. Ronon had learned that lesson from one of his former lovers who’d been unable to make a commitment but unwilling to let Ronon go to someone else. In the end it had cost him his life and left Ronon with yet another set of memories he’d rather forget.
Ronon’s instincts, honed by being on the run for all those years, were seldom wrong. The way Sheppard had acted from the moment they’d set foot through the gate to search for the lost team had made him suspect that something had been off right from the start. Sheppard had snarled at Rodney, even before the device had noticeably started to influence them, and the way he’d disregarded the scientist’s concerns about the cause for their problems with the transmitter and its possible influence on their malfunctioning comms, spoke of something more than the concern for their missing people. It revealed a not quite leashed anger and resentment towards the scientist that had reminded Ronon strongly of the weeks after Arcturus when Sheppard’s trust in McKay had been shaken so badly, although in Ronon’s opinion the chance that McKay wouldn’t always get it right were against them by now. They should have counted themselves lucky that the loss of life had been minimal and that Sheppard and McKay had made it out with their skin mostly intact.
After the mission everything seemed to return more or less to normal between them. Sheppard apologized for shooting him, and McKay had shown up at Ronon’s doorstep when Beckett had released him from the infirmary. Looking to be comforted, and venting his opinion on the good doctor’s ability as a sheep herder, not a doctor - Ronon had seen pictures of these animals and didn’t think they had ever figured prominently in Beckett’s life or he’d be much better with the wildlife they’d sometimes encountered off world - and a very enthusiastic, life affirming blow job. And two weeks later they’d all been gone from Ronon’s life, except for Teyla who tried to disguise her anger and resentment towards the returned Ancients, because some of her people believed them to be their long awaited saviours.
When they had finally been reunited with their friends, McKay had come to Ronon’s reclaimed quarters but instead of a renewal of their former relations, Ronon had been told that Sheppard had finally laid claim to what was rightfully his and Rodney would revert to being his friend and team mate and nothing more. Ronon had found that on this occasion he would have preferred McKay to be not quite as honest as he had been that night.
The man’s face had shown a serene happiness he hadn’t thought the brash scientist capable off and Ronon had found that he didn’t enjoy being the one to be told that they’d be better friends for their more intimate knowledge of each other. He wondered if someone had ever told McKay such a thing or if the man really did believe what he was saying. Then it occurred to him that he had been the one to use words in that respect when they’d started their affair. He’d made it quite clear at the beginning that all that would be between them was the commitment of two team mates who helped each other out when the pressure of a mission or the absence of people they’d loved and lost became too much to bear.
And if sometimes they’d simply indulged to feel alive, to make sure their bodies knew something else besides exhaustion and pain, more fool he, then. Now it was too late to change the outcome of things. He had no idea what had happened between Sheppard and McKay back on their homeworld, but obviously they had made a connection that left no room for him. Ronon knew both his team mates well enough to realize that whatever bound them now would not suffer the presence of a third party and that both men would hold on with all their not inconsiderable determination to their new relationship. And Sheppard, now that he’d allowed himself to take what he had wanted for months, would never let go of McKay, of that much Ronon was certain.
He had missed his chance for something more between himself and McKay but that didn’t mean he stopped desiring what - in retrospect - for too short a time had been his. In trying to keep their trysts on a casual level he had managed to cheat himself out of something good. McKay had become a touchstone for Ronon, both in body and mind. Now, his body reminded him of the fact that he had grown quite used to the frequent bouts of energetic lovemaking they’d shared and he hadn’t been able to suppress the spike of envy and resentment he’d felt when he saw the pair of them in the mess hall at lunch.
Sitting across from Ronon, listening to an animatedly talking Rodney with an indulgent smile on his face, Sheppard had looked up and caught him staring. Ronon had always known that Sheppard could be a formidable enemy when provoked, Kolya and his fallen Genii soldiers testament to the man’s combat skills, but he hadn’t counted on being on the receiving end of the look Sheppard normally reserved for those he perceived to be a threat to his people. In the blink of an eye, Ronon had realized that his status would change instantly from comrade to despised enemy in Sheppard’s eyes, should he ever try to win back McKay’s affections.
Conceding defeat hadn’t come easy to him, it simply wasn’t in his nature to give up without a fight, but in the end Ronon had given a barely perceptible nod which Sheppard had acknowledged with a toothy smile and a slight inclination of his head. Message delivered and received, all that remained for Ronon now were his memories and the determination not to lose the respect and the sorely missed friendship of his team mates, which did include McKay and Sheppard. It wouldn’t be easy, but most things worth having came with a price.
Sheppard had given him a chance at revenge against the wraith, had given him both, a new home and purpose by making him a member of his team, and Ronon owed him for that alone. It would take time and some getting used to, but he’d make it work, somehow. Since his return Rodney had acted around him as if nothing much had changed to the way things had been before their affair, which clarified Ronon’s position in the scheme of things when it came to McKay. Obviously, the man had meant it all those months ago when he’d agreed to the terms of their arrangement and harboured no feelings for him other than those of a friend who had given him some comfort in a time of need and that was that. As always, McKay had seemingly underestimated his impact on people both for the good and the bad, and he probably didn’t suspect that Ronon envied Sheppard his presence or the taste of that clever mouth.
His good mood from earlier gone, Ronon was just about to climb over the crates he had used to hide the goods they wanted to keep from prying eyes when the doors swished open. Startled, he peered through the narrow gap between the high-stacked crates to his right. Company was the last thing he wanted right now and he hoped that whoever this was would grab the supplies they needed and get out so Ronon could get to his room and the well earned, hot shower he planned to indulge in. When he saw who had stumbled into his somewhat dusty sanctuary he barely stifled a curse.
To borrow one of McKay’s favourite phrases, this really wasn’t fair. He should make his presence felt, should simply get out of here and enjoy the sanctuary his quarters provided. Instead his gaze fastened on the two men by the door, anticipation coiling in his gut when he saw the way Sheppard’s eyes roamed over the scientist unsuspecting scientist. McKay had talked to Zelenka over the comm, telling him he’d have an early dinner and would be back in about an hour, he’d barely broken the connection when Sheppard stepped close and pulled him into a heated kiss.
“Are you completely out of your mind?” McKay whispered harshly, gazing at the door as if he expected someone to walk in on them any minute. “You do realize what would happen if one of your eager young marines walked in on us because he felt a craving for an early snack,” but the protest sounded half hearted as he took in his lover’s heated gaze. McKay swallowed whatever he had been about to say and simply relaxed against the wall behind him, his eyes never leaving those of his lover.
Sheppard leaned into the solid frame of the scientist, trusting his lover to keep them balanced while his hands were wandering all over his by now willing captive, loosening buttons and zippers where they went, capturing the moan McKay issued with his own, hungry mouth. There was a flash of blue turning to red, as the door lights signalled a complete lockdown until Sheppard or probably another gene carrier commanded them to open. Ronon would bet his hunting knife that in this case they’d only open for Sheppard. He swallowed harshly, closing his eyes and drawing in a deep breath to keep his suddenly aroused body under control, when he heard McKay calling out his lovers name, “yes, John… hnnn just not quite so fast… okay, okay, that’s good, you can keep doing that, oh…”
Ronon watched as McKay pulled Sheppard’s willing body closer and reciprocated wholeheartedly. The kiss grew steadily more heated and Sheppard insinuated himself between McKay’s slightly spread legs, moving as close to his lover as possible, capturing the slightly smaller man more firmly between his own body and the wall, as if afraid he might run.
Ronon tried to suppress the instant urge to go out there and stop this before it went any further, to get away from them, anywhere he wouldn’t need to hear this. His treacherous body seemingly had developed a mind of its own, keeping him in the shadows of the tall boxes, while his leather pants started to feel much too tight for his liking. He couldn’t help another glance in the direction of the lovers and that proved to be his undoing.
Behind his cover, Ronon felt his whole body react to the sight and sound of McKay’s passion, remembered how it would feel for Sheppard to be pressed close to that sturdy body. The heat their close contact would generate. How it would feel when those strong arms, now wrapped around Sheppard’s shoulder and waist, would keep him from moving anywhere except closer to his lover. From where Ronon was standing the Colonel didn’t look like he had any intention of moving away from his companion any time soon.
Sheppard moved his hands between them to take off McKay’s shirt, revealing the broad, smooth chest to his hungry gaze. “I’ve got everything under control Rodney, trust me…” He moaned as McKay thrust his hips forward, rubbing their still clothed erections together. “Oh, yeah. Knew you’d like this… need to touch you… need you, Rodney.” He smiled as his lovers’ hands clenched tightly, holding on to his t-shirt as if it was all that kept him standing. Bowing his head he closed his mouth over one prominent nipple and nipped it sharply, eliciting another moan, this one deeper and more wanton than its predecessor.
Ronon’s soft groan was masked by the sound McKay made in the back of his throat when he leaned back his head, exposing even more of his pale skin for his lover’s pleasure. The dark head moved, obstructing Ronon’s view as Sheppard nip-kissed his way up to the strong neck. He could almost feel the desire in those heated kisses on his own flesh as Sheppard followed the vulnerable throat upwards to kiss the space behind McKay’s ear which would evoke a full body shudder in the other man.
Watching the darker skin of Sheppard’s hand now stroking down to open his lover’s pants against McKay’s paleness made Ronon want to step closer, to reach out and add his caresses to Sheppard’s. The touch-memory of that desired skin, the way it gave a little under a lovers’ touch, made his fingers itch. He sank slowly down until he knelt on the dusty floor, betrayed by his body’s reaction, thighs spread to accommodate his growing erection, fingers clutching the bottom of his tunic to keep himself from reaching for the opening of his pants. Clenching his eyes closed and gritting his teeth to keep from uttering the too loud moan building in his own throat, Ronon tried to ignore the two men. He wouldn’t do this, he had promised to let this go, to forget the sound, feel and taste of McKay in the throes of passion.
A hoarse cry from Sheppard made him look up again only to see McKay, on his knees now, sliding clever hands over Sheppard’s hips, pulling him forward, until the talented mouth Ronon could almost feel on his own aroused flesh, enclosed his lover’s hardness. Pulling Sheppard even deeper into his hungry mouth, McKay moaned again and Ronon couldn’t resist any longer.
Hastily opening his fly he took hold of himself with hands shaking with desire, his breathing harsh to his own ears but apparently not loud enough to disturb the lovers, engrossed in each other’s pleasure. Clenching his eyes shut, he began to stroke himself, trying to get this over with so he could think of a way out of this situation with the remains of his dignity intact.
He’d hoped that McKay would suck Sheppard off and they’d move out of here, until he heard Sheppard’s throaty “I want to fuck you,” and prayed for his own sanity of mind that McKay would decline, knowing that he wouldn’t. Ronon didn’t need to hear the breathless voice telling Sheppard to hurry. He’d seen the other man in various stages of arousal before and while he’d never looked at Ronon like he now watched every move Sheppard made, Ronon knew that nothing short of an emergency would make McKay stop this now. With a feeling of dread, he finally gave in to the inevitable, thinking that he could at least try to get as much out of this as possible. The rustling of clothes being shed made him look at the two men again.
Avidly he watched, as McKay spread his jacket over the top of one of the sturdier, lower crates, gripping the edges of the wood through the fabric as he lay back, awaiting his eager lover. Sheppard stepped out of the tangled pants and underwear, bending down to extract something from one of the pockets. McKay’s eyes went wide when he saw the lube in Sheppard’s hand.
“Wait, you planned this? What made you think…” but Sheppard’s fingers, brushing softly over his mouth, silenced any complaint McKay had been about to make. Instead, he nipped at the presumptuous digits, judging by Sheppard’s husky laugh not too hard and fastened his gaze on his lover’s arousal, licking suddenly dry lips, while his lover placed the small container he held near McKay’s head.
“Oh, okay. Planning is good, in fact, I like a good plan.” He tried to say something more but Sheppard chose this moment to kiss him deeply again, stepping between the spread thighs and cradling his lovers head gently in his hands, taking his time with the kiss. Their mouths clung together desperately one moment, only to separate almost completely until Sheppard murmured something Ronon couldn’t quite catch against the panting mouth beneath his own… “Shush now… just relax. Yeah, that’s it. Listen to me, listen…” and they were kissing again; tender, consuming kisses that made Ronon look away, shaking with his own desire as he listened to the sounds of their lovemaking.
The sudden, near silence made him look up again and he saw Sheppard, curled almost protectively over Rodney’s prone form, the other man’s legs locked around Sheppard’s hips, pulling him into his lover. Sheppard was whispering too low for Ronon to hear now, but whatever it was had made McKay go almost completely silent. The constant babbling Ronon had grown used to during their shared encounters completely absent while Rodney clung to every word his lover spoke for his ears alone.
It hurt to watch this almost completely silent intimacy, not disturbed by McKay’s need to hide behind the noise he surrounded himself with in order to keep people at bay. In that moment what took place between the two men was so utterly different from his experiences with the lover Ronon had known, that it could have been another person who was laid out there, wrapped around Sheppard so tightly that it was have hard to see where one man ended and the other began.
Desire, shivering down his spine and centring in his own aching erection made Ronon tighten his grip on his own, neglected flesh. Imagining it was himself who was sliding slowly in and out of that generous body, remembering how it felt, to sink into that tight heat, welcomed and wanted, able to taste the wide, eager mouth and forget everything else for precious, too short minutes.
He muffled his moan against his outstretched arm as he came hard, not caring that he dripped come on the floor, only knowing that he’d heard Sheppard come in the same instant he had, crying out Rodney’s name in time with his lover’s own shout of release.
He looked over at the two men. Sheppard now almost curled up atop the crate as well, held in place by McKay’s arms around him. They smiled at each other, an intimate, tender expression on Sheppard’s face as he stroked McKay’s cheek with the back of the fingers of his right hand and McKay turned his head, brushing a kiss against the caressing digits. A contended murmur escaped the scientist as he was cleaned up with a piece of clothing that must have been Sheppard’s shorts, because he slipped back into his discarded pants, naked, to the sound of McKay’s teasing.
Ronon remained kneeling in the cover of his hiding place until the sound of the opening and closing door told him that he was, finally, alone. He needed to gather his scattered wits and clear his head before he could face both men again. Maybe he’d take Teyla up on the hunting trip on the mainland she’d proposed earlier that day. He needed time to think, to find himself again and, despite the bitter taste of regret at the back of his throat, Ronon had survived worse. He would survive this as well. He may have lost a lover, but he could still claim the other man as his friend. Both of them, because he knew that as long as he was loyal to them they’d stand by him, no matter what the Wraith or anyone else in this galaxy threw at them. And, sometimes, trusted friends had to be enough.
He didn’t see the darkly satisfied glance Sheppard cast in his direction before he turned away, nor did he see the smug smile the other man gave his equally oblivious lover. At the door of the storage room, sharp hazel eyes narrowed in concentration as the Colonel turned off the life signs detector before he put it back into his pants pocket with his now soiled underwear, not wanting to alert Rodney to the third party present in the room. Secure in the knowledge that he’d made his point John kissed his lover’s still smiling mouth, enjoying the taste he’d only recently become accustomed to.
It was up to Ronon now how he dealt with what he’d learned today, but John would keep what was his. And McKay was his for as long as they both lived. The tall warrior was a valued member of their team as well as a friend, and it would hurt Rodney and John, both, to lose that friendship. But what John had seen in the Satedan’s eyes when he watched Rodney today had told him that something had to be done to clear things up, to draw clear lines of where each of them stood. This could either be the reconstruction of their relationship as team-mates and friends or it would end the Satedan’s stay in Atlantis.
While John would regret the latter, he was reasonably sure that Ronon would stay. Teyla would see to it, if he’d read the signs right and Rodney would remain happily oblivious to what had transpired between the lover who had been and the one who would stay until the end. Sometimes, life was really good. He smiled, as Rodney pulled him out of the door, watching a shadow move out of the room’s darkest corner and thought about the upcoming mission tomorrow and everything would work itself out in time.
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