Fic: Unintended (R)
Title: Unintended
Author: SGAtlantisLight
Characters: McKay, Zelenka
Relationships: McKay/Zelenka
Rating: R
Warnings: Angst, smutty bits
Spoilers: None
Summary: There was no romance, no pretense that this was anything but two colleagues scratching a mutual itch. No kisses. No confessions of undying love. No falling asleep in each other's arms. No messy emotions.
Disclaimer: The characters, the setting, etc. are NOT mine, even if I wish they were.
Rodney hadn't intended it to come to this. What he had with Radek was all about cocks and hands and mouths. There was no romance, no pretense that this was anything but two colleagues scratching a mutual itch. No kisses. No confessions of undying love. No falling asleep in each other's arms. No messy emotions.
None.
Except here he is, feeling like the world is falling apart as he crawls through the growing pool of blood, screaming into his radio for Beckett to be here nownownow! Five minutes ago, even.
There is a sound... an inhalation maybe. Just the hint of a whisper of something. He shuts up, straining to hear it again, begging for it to come again.
The ghosting of Radek's breath over his thighs, belly, cock.
"Radek?"
And then there is what had been a leg ahead of him. Mangled. A jumble of meat and bone and blood, so much blood, held together by shredded tan uniform pants.
There! There it is again. A slight shift of fabric on fabric, perhaps.
The whisper of clothing as Radek undressed for him.
He follows the leg up, finding a hip. The opening is here.
Just his legs, then...
Radek's legs wrapped around him, bodies thrusting together.
Oh, God, where was Carson?
"Rodney!" Sheppard's voice.
"Under here, Colonel," he yells.
"What happened?"
"The jumper rolled over him. The side hatch was open, though, so I think it missed all of him but his legs."
"Any chance it could roll further?" Sheppard asks.
"I've got it braced for now. We need to get it off him."
"I'm on it!"
One hand finds the spot where the blood vessel runs into the thigh and presses hard, trying to stem the bleeding. He snakes his other hand through the opening, trying to feel if Radek is breathing, whole, anything, and is startled to find fingers curling around his. The hand is shaking and clammy, but he knows the feel of Radek's hands, has memorised the location of each and every callus, the length of fingers, the familiar touch.
Radek's fingers curling around his hips, holding him steady.
"I'm here, Radek. You're going to be okay." The lie comes easier than most. He's seen Radek's leg. He's no doctor, but even he knows there's little hope there.
"Ro'ney?" It's the slightest of whispers.
"I'm here. I'm here. It's okay. We're going to get this off you."
Many footfalls sound around the jumper. Clanks and clangs, shouted orders.
"Rodney, you need to move," Sheppard yells. "I don't want to risk you."
Radek's hand curls desperately around his.
Radek's hand wrapped around his which is wrapped around Radek's cock, both hands stroking up and down together, Radek guiding the rhythm as he moves on Rodney.
"It's okay," he soothes. "I'm not leaving you. I'm right here."
"Rodney!"
"I can't, colonel. You're going to have to move it with me under here."
"Rodney, what's his condition?" Beckett's voice this time.
"He's bleeding to death, in case the puddle of blood didn't clue you in. And he's in shock."
He presses a finger to Radek's wrist, feeling the thready pulse there.
The pounding of Radek's heart under his hand... The pulse of his cock
"All right. Hold still, Rodney. Tell us when he's clear."
"All right," he answers, then squeezes Radek's hand.
And he tries to concentrate, but Radek's grip is loosening and something inside Rodney is breaking.
Radek going utterly boneless under him, uncaring that he is sticky and sweaty and utterly, utterly...
"Oh, God, hurry!" A glimmer of light. "He's clear! Get it off, get it off!"
And then it's being moved sideways to reveal Radek, pale and still on the hangar bay floor, both legs crushed into a mass of gore so raw it makes Rodney think it's got to be fake.
And then the medical team is swarming and Rodney can't seem to let go of Radek's hand.
"Rodney," Sheppard is saying, "you need to get out of the way and let Carson work."
And the colonel is helping him up, arm around his shoulder, bracing him when the shaking starts.
"Are you okay?" Sheppard asks in concern.
"No," he answers.
And it wasn't supposed to be like this, but it is.
Storm-blue eyes sparkle as they look into his. A smug smile. The dimple that creases his face when he is smiling a true smile.
Never. It was an arrangement, nothing more. No feelings, no emotions, no heartache.
"Rodney!" said with exasperated affection.
"Come on," Sheppard says quietly and leads him out, following the rushing medical team.
Everyone's being so nice. Teyla brings him soothing tea. Elizabeth sits silently with him, comforting touches keeping him sane. Sheppard paces. Ronon brings food and orders him to eat it, scowling at him as he chokes it down.
No one seems shocked by the depth of his reaction.
He loses track of time.
Carson comes out, looking grim. "We've got him stable for now, but it's pretty touch and go. I doubt he'll be conscious for some time, but if you want, you can go see him for a wee bit." This last is directed at Rodney, Carson's eyes soft with sympathy.
Rodney stands shakily. "Thanks." He takes a deep breath. "His legs?"
Carson doesn't say anything, just shakes his head.
The next week is hell. More surgeries to remove dead tissue. Pneumonia.
The medical staff is strangely gentle with him. No one complains when he stumbles into the infirmary, unable to sleep, and curls into the chair by Radek's bedside.
Meals appear on a regular basis.
Carson explains procedures and options as if Rodney has a say in the final decision.
Sheppard cancels all the team's offworld missions.
Kavanagh quietly takes the reins in the labs and keeps things running smoothly, only bothering Rodney when absolutely no one else will do.
It's all very unfocused and otherworldly, as if he's fallen into some strange world where people actually care about him... Care about Radek... Care about him and Radek.
Then one time he glances at the bed and Radek's eyes are open, a puzzled expression within.
"Hey," Rodney says, and finds water and a glass and carefully holds it to Radek to sip. "How are you feeling?"
"Knees hurt," Radek says.
Rodney looks down to the place where the sheets suddenly, unnaturally cave in, unsupported by flesh underneath. "Um."
"They shouldn't hurt, should they?" Radek asks. "Because they aren't there."
He's never been good at this sort of thing-- comforting, breaking the news gently, that type of interaction. He closes his hand around Radek's and squeezes gently. "I'm here," he answers, not sure what he means by that.
Radek settles back into the pillow, closing his eyes. A single tear escapes and slides down his cheek.
Rodney reaches out and captures it with a finger. "I'm here," he says again. "I'm not leaving you."
Radek's hand tightens around his. There are no words.
He hadn't expected this strange quiet that seems to surround them, a certainty of something he hadn't known they had, had never intended to have.
But in that silence between words and the brush of flesh on flesh is the promise they never spoke aloud.
And Rodney finally understands.