Fic: Stepwise (Atlantis, John/Rodney)
Title: Stepwise
Author: tigerlady
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: PG-13? Kissy-face and cussing
Disclaimer: The characters and setting do not belong to me; I make no money from this.
Summary: John doesn't know how to deal with the fallout.
Notes: Ok, so this is what I managed to piece together from the bits I had. It's possibly spoilerish for Siege III. I'm also worried that I drew heavily on the hive mind, but this is what I was thinking after Siege II. John/Rodney. For chopchica's sunburn.
Two steps from Rodney, he knew.
Adrenaline still rushed through him, newfound relief not quite compensating for the leftover fear. All of the emotions that had been careening around inside him since the first time he stepped through the gate had released like a champagne cork, leaving him vibrating and jittering and just a little bit out of touch with reality. Time shrunk down and simultaneously expanded in that half-second between three steps away and two. The gate room was a muffled sea of chaos in front of him, a large portion of the Daedelus crew a solid wall of eyes behind him, and in the midst of it all, Major John Sheppard finally got it.
Rodney was unusually still, just waiting, his eyes big and blue, nearly swamped by the red of exhaustion and worry. John couldn't read his face. Usually Rodney was wide open to him, fear and excitement equally vivid in his expressions. There was too much between them now, John supposed. Too much anxiety and desperation. Too much caring.
"Major," Rodney said, and time bounced back into a normal rhythm so fast John almost stumbled, even though he was standing still.
He stuck out his hand. The entire ocean seemed to be in his throat, tightening up his chest, the force of it held back only by the weight of the stares of every single person in the damn room. Rodney wasn't looking at him, though. His stare was directed at John's hand like it was as welcome as a Wraith's, and wasn't that a happy thought.
John wiggled his fingers a little, said "McKay," in a neutral draw. Rodney finally looked up. John tried to communicate everything with one sideways flick of his own eyes, back towards where he knew Colonel Caldwell stood.
And thank god, Rodney got it, too. A warm, sweaty palm met his own. They were both shaking, gripping each other desperately, but John was pretty sure that was okay for two friends who had just survived certain death.
Reality kicked up another notch, the mental fog melting away just a bit more as other people pushed forward. Somehow he and Rodney got separated, but then Elizabeth was there, looking both tougher and more fragile than he had ever seen her. Zelenka shook his hand fiercely, and Beckett clapped a hand on his shoulder as he gave John a quick once over. When Teyla approached with tears in her eyes, Ford nowhere to be seen, John's walls sagged a little. He grabbed her in a fierce hug, letting her strength and understanding absorb the things he couldn't let others see even as he tried to reassure her.
A few more handshakes and congratulations, and then it was back to business. Colonel Caldwell was introducing himself to Elizabeth as he herded them all toward the conference room. John managed to catch Rodney's eye before they headed up the stairs; Rodney nodded just a little, letting him know he understood.
All John wanted right now was to hold Rodney, to know that everything was all right. That simple want was an impossibility right now and might stay impossible for a long time to come. A small, very petty part of him resented that they were no longer cut off from Earth. It was a stupid thought, but he couldn't help the fear and anger that came with the US military looking over his shoulder once again, watching his every move.
Interminable hours later, after he'd gotten tired of fighting with the lights in his quarters that were confused by his wide-open eyes, John wandered through the control room and out onto the balcony. Elizabeth was already there, hunched against the rail so she was only a silhouette against the city's glow. She didn't turn around when he stepped up to the rail.
"I thought you'd be asleep," he said after a long moment.
She shrugged. "Could say the same to you."
John sighed, looking around at the spent casings and the silent rail gun. The whole city was like this-Ancient beauty distorted by the signs of their desperate fight. Elizabeth shifted around so that she was half-turned toward him, although she stayed snugged up against the railing. He sank down next to her, noticing as he did that she held an old-style whiskey flask in her right hand.
She looked up and smiled warmly. It looked odd against the bleakness of her eyes. "I'm really glad you're alive."
John swallowed, caught off guard by her honesty. He looked over her shoulder, feeling trapped by her eyes, and smiled. "I'm pretty happy about that myself."
Elizabeth shook her head and pressed her face back into the panel of the railing. John was sure he'd messed up with her yet again. They worked well together most of the time, but there were days when they just couldn't get in step. He leaned to the side enough to bump her shoulder with his own.
"Hey. I'm glad you're alive, too."
She nodded, but didn't look back at him. "So many aren't." She held out the flask. "Share a drink?"
John took it, reluctantly. He didn't want the alcohol, but he couldn't refuse a wake.
"It was Colonel Everett's," she said at exactly the wrong moment.
Burning whiskey went up his nose and tried for his lungs. He coughed and sputtered, fluid leaking down his chin embarrassingly. Elizabeth smacked him on the back. He looked at her through sticky eyelashes once he finally got some air. "You're evil," he choked out.
She smiled sadly, and he decided she probably hadn't meant to choke him.
"He owed me a drink," was all she said.
John nodded. He hadn't spent as much time with Everett as Elizabeth had, especially at the end, but he had come to admire the man's fervor as he worked to save the city. John hadn't liked him all that much, but that didn't matter. Getting the job done mattered. He sighed again; he was two for three with superior officers in the Pegasus galaxy. He wondered if he should warn Caldwell.
"Is Rodney in bed?" Elizabeth asked out of the blue.
His heart sped up in irrational panic. She'd been there when Rodney had fallen asleep-right in the middle of the debriefing-and she'd asked John and one of the new Marines to get Rodney to his quarters. Her question was perfectly innocent and logical. He needed to respond to it that way.
"As far as I know," he said at last. "He was snoring like a bear before we got his shoes off."
Elizabeth smiled, her face relaxing at last. "He really is amazing. He and Radek both."
John didn't know how to respond. He was afraid anything he said would come out wrong, too effusive or too cutting. So he nodded and tried to direct the conversation away from Rodney. "Did someone get Zelenka to his room?"
"Sleeping like a baby," she said softly.
John wondered whether she'd looked in on Zelenka herself. Everyone had pushed themselves hard in the last two weeks, but Rodney and Radek had made everyone else look like wimps. Elizabeth didn't say anything else, and he hadn't really come here looking for a conversation. It seemed too intimate to share the space without talking; he considered going back to his room to contemplate his ceiling. Something kept him, though. Friendship or duty, probably a bit of both.
He woke to bright Atlantean sunshine and a brisk ocean breeze, covered by one of the silver thermal blankets. His back ached like nobody's business and his eyes felt scoured by sand. Elizabeth was nowhere to be seen. He kept thinking about their almost-conversation throughout the day while he helped secure the city. Elizabeth was a friend, yet he had panicked at the thought of her even suspecting his relationship with Rodney. John obviously had a few things to work through.
He barely even saw Rodney the next two days. Caldwell had to be brought up to speed, and the city was a mess, people were missing, and their defenses were still iffy. Rodney was busy with the new contingent of scientists as well as the ZPM. John told himself that it wasn't a big deal. He told himself he wasn't hiding from anything.
He told himself that right up until Rodney cornered him in an empty lab.
"Major," he started, then rolled his eyes. "I mean Colonel," Rodney corrected, shaking his head. "That's going to take some getting used to."
John smiled wryly. It was going to take him a while to get used to it, himself. "You could just call me John, you know."
Rodney's eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms snugly over his chest.
"Can I?" Rodney lifted his chin, and there was no warmth anywhere in his manner. "Wouldn't that give something away?"
John ran a hand through his hair, realizing that he'd made a mess of things with the one person he wanted to protect most of all. Fuck.
"You can call me John," he said firmly, but couldn't help adding, "just don't be all weird about it."
"Oh, yes," Rodney said immediately, sarcasm set at full, "because I'm such a simpering idiot. Oh John, you're so big and strong and heroic," he added in a lisping falsetto. "I'll manage to remember 'Colonel', thank you very much."
"Rodney," he started.
"And really, there's nothing to be weird about anyway, is there?"
Double fuck. John reached out, trying to clasp Rodney's shoulder, but Rodney took a smooth step back and to the side, placing himself just out of reach.
"Damn it, Rodney. That's not what I meant at all. I'm just having a hard time figuring out how to handle this shit."
Rodney's eyes were hard, but John swore that one of his eyelids twitched before he looked somewhere over John's right shoulder. "I know," he said, nodding once. "I don't want to get you kicked out, believe me. But I thought maybe..." Blue eyes snapped back to John's so fast that he almost stepped back. "But I thought you thought I was worth a little risk."
John met that gaze for a long moment, clenching his jaw as he chewed all the wrong words into itty-bitty pieces. Once he swallowed them down, made sure he wouldn't screw things up worse, he tried for the right ones.
"Rodney." It came out raspy, like a life-long smoker's voice. "Rodney, if we were back home, where nothing mattered except my reputation, I wouldn't give a damn. But here?"
Rodney relaxed a little, his shoulders easing back down. "You're too valuable for them to do anything. They can't."
"Maybe, maybe not. If the wrong people get wind of it, I'm gone."
Rodney nodded. "I understand," he said, voice cracking just a little.
John caught his arm this time, pulling him back as he started to turn away. "No, you don't," John snapped. "I love you, and damn you for making me say that. I love you and I'm the only idiot here with any degree of control of this stupid gene, and I've got so many fucking eyes on me I don't know what to do."
He swallowed, still not sure what he was asking for. His face felt like it was on fire, but he didn't look away from Rodney's eyes.
"I don't know either," Rodney finally said. "And you have no idea how much I hate saying that." But a shaking hand brushed John's cheek, trailing over the stubble on his chin.
John smiled. "I have some idea," he said softly. He turned his head just enough to nip at Rodney's fingers. He pulled Rodney's index finger into his mouth, sucked it don past the first knuckle, then drew back with tongue and suction. He let go with a pop.
Rodney pushed him back against the wall and kissed him, mouth open and fierce. John couldn't get enough, couldn't get deep enough, and neither could Rodney. They both had their mouths open so far their jaws were straining, tongues pushing and teeth gnawing. They finally pulled back a little, still intense but more gentle. Rodney bit at John's jaw as John sucked on Rodney's ear. They kissed again, softer still, and then Rodney drew back to look at him.
"I love you too, you kamikaze idiot."
John wasn't sure how it was possible to feel on top of the world and like a heel at the same time, but he managed. "I'm sorry."
Rodney rolled his eyes. "Just don't do it again. Now shut up and kiss me."
John did.
Author: tigerlady
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: PG-13? Kissy-face and cussing
Disclaimer: The characters and setting do not belong to me; I make no money from this.
Summary: John doesn't know how to deal with the fallout.
Notes: Ok, so this is what I managed to piece together from the bits I had. It's possibly spoilerish for Siege III. I'm also worried that I drew heavily on the hive mind, but this is what I was thinking after Siege II. John/Rodney. For chopchica's sunburn.
Two steps from Rodney, he knew.
Adrenaline still rushed through him, newfound relief not quite compensating for the leftover fear. All of the emotions that had been careening around inside him since the first time he stepped through the gate had released like a champagne cork, leaving him vibrating and jittering and just a little bit out of touch with reality. Time shrunk down and simultaneously expanded in that half-second between three steps away and two. The gate room was a muffled sea of chaos in front of him, a large portion of the Daedelus crew a solid wall of eyes behind him, and in the midst of it all, Major John Sheppard finally got it.
Rodney was unusually still, just waiting, his eyes big and blue, nearly swamped by the red of exhaustion and worry. John couldn't read his face. Usually Rodney was wide open to him, fear and excitement equally vivid in his expressions. There was too much between them now, John supposed. Too much anxiety and desperation. Too much caring.
"Major," Rodney said, and time bounced back into a normal rhythm so fast John almost stumbled, even though he was standing still.
He stuck out his hand. The entire ocean seemed to be in his throat, tightening up his chest, the force of it held back only by the weight of the stares of every single person in the damn room. Rodney wasn't looking at him, though. His stare was directed at John's hand like it was as welcome as a Wraith's, and wasn't that a happy thought.
John wiggled his fingers a little, said "McKay," in a neutral draw. Rodney finally looked up. John tried to communicate everything with one sideways flick of his own eyes, back towards where he knew Colonel Caldwell stood.
And thank god, Rodney got it, too. A warm, sweaty palm met his own. They were both shaking, gripping each other desperately, but John was pretty sure that was okay for two friends who had just survived certain death.
Reality kicked up another notch, the mental fog melting away just a bit more as other people pushed forward. Somehow he and Rodney got separated, but then Elizabeth was there, looking both tougher and more fragile than he had ever seen her. Zelenka shook his hand fiercely, and Beckett clapped a hand on his shoulder as he gave John a quick once over. When Teyla approached with tears in her eyes, Ford nowhere to be seen, John's walls sagged a little. He grabbed her in a fierce hug, letting her strength and understanding absorb the things he couldn't let others see even as he tried to reassure her.
A few more handshakes and congratulations, and then it was back to business. Colonel Caldwell was introducing himself to Elizabeth as he herded them all toward the conference room. John managed to catch Rodney's eye before they headed up the stairs; Rodney nodded just a little, letting him know he understood.
All John wanted right now was to hold Rodney, to know that everything was all right. That simple want was an impossibility right now and might stay impossible for a long time to come. A small, very petty part of him resented that they were no longer cut off from Earth. It was a stupid thought, but he couldn't help the fear and anger that came with the US military looking over his shoulder once again, watching his every move.
Interminable hours later, after he'd gotten tired of fighting with the lights in his quarters that were confused by his wide-open eyes, John wandered through the control room and out onto the balcony. Elizabeth was already there, hunched against the rail so she was only a silhouette against the city's glow. She didn't turn around when he stepped up to the rail.
"I thought you'd be asleep," he said after a long moment.
She shrugged. "Could say the same to you."
John sighed, looking around at the spent casings and the silent rail gun. The whole city was like this-Ancient beauty distorted by the signs of their desperate fight. Elizabeth shifted around so that she was half-turned toward him, although she stayed snugged up against the railing. He sank down next to her, noticing as he did that she held an old-style whiskey flask in her right hand.
She looked up and smiled warmly. It looked odd against the bleakness of her eyes. "I'm really glad you're alive."
John swallowed, caught off guard by her honesty. He looked over her shoulder, feeling trapped by her eyes, and smiled. "I'm pretty happy about that myself."
Elizabeth shook her head and pressed her face back into the panel of the railing. John was sure he'd messed up with her yet again. They worked well together most of the time, but there were days when they just couldn't get in step. He leaned to the side enough to bump her shoulder with his own.
"Hey. I'm glad you're alive, too."
She nodded, but didn't look back at him. "So many aren't." She held out the flask. "Share a drink?"
John took it, reluctantly. He didn't want the alcohol, but he couldn't refuse a wake.
"It was Colonel Everett's," she said at exactly the wrong moment.
Burning whiskey went up his nose and tried for his lungs. He coughed and sputtered, fluid leaking down his chin embarrassingly. Elizabeth smacked him on the back. He looked at her through sticky eyelashes once he finally got some air. "You're evil," he choked out.
She smiled sadly, and he decided she probably hadn't meant to choke him.
"He owed me a drink," was all she said.
John nodded. He hadn't spent as much time with Everett as Elizabeth had, especially at the end, but he had come to admire the man's fervor as he worked to save the city. John hadn't liked him all that much, but that didn't matter. Getting the job done mattered. He sighed again; he was two for three with superior officers in the Pegasus galaxy. He wondered if he should warn Caldwell.
"Is Rodney in bed?" Elizabeth asked out of the blue.
His heart sped up in irrational panic. She'd been there when Rodney had fallen asleep-right in the middle of the debriefing-and she'd asked John and one of the new Marines to get Rodney to his quarters. Her question was perfectly innocent and logical. He needed to respond to it that way.
"As far as I know," he said at last. "He was snoring like a bear before we got his shoes off."
Elizabeth smiled, her face relaxing at last. "He really is amazing. He and Radek both."
John didn't know how to respond. He was afraid anything he said would come out wrong, too effusive or too cutting. So he nodded and tried to direct the conversation away from Rodney. "Did someone get Zelenka to his room?"
"Sleeping like a baby," she said softly.
John wondered whether she'd looked in on Zelenka herself. Everyone had pushed themselves hard in the last two weeks, but Rodney and Radek had made everyone else look like wimps. Elizabeth didn't say anything else, and he hadn't really come here looking for a conversation. It seemed too intimate to share the space without talking; he considered going back to his room to contemplate his ceiling. Something kept him, though. Friendship or duty, probably a bit of both.
He woke to bright Atlantean sunshine and a brisk ocean breeze, covered by one of the silver thermal blankets. His back ached like nobody's business and his eyes felt scoured by sand. Elizabeth was nowhere to be seen. He kept thinking about their almost-conversation throughout the day while he helped secure the city. Elizabeth was a friend, yet he had panicked at the thought of her even suspecting his relationship with Rodney. John obviously had a few things to work through.
He barely even saw Rodney the next two days. Caldwell had to be brought up to speed, and the city was a mess, people were missing, and their defenses were still iffy. Rodney was busy with the new contingent of scientists as well as the ZPM. John told himself that it wasn't a big deal. He told himself he wasn't hiding from anything.
He told himself that right up until Rodney cornered him in an empty lab.
"Major," he started, then rolled his eyes. "I mean Colonel," Rodney corrected, shaking his head. "That's going to take some getting used to."
John smiled wryly. It was going to take him a while to get used to it, himself. "You could just call me John, you know."
Rodney's eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms snugly over his chest.
"Can I?" Rodney lifted his chin, and there was no warmth anywhere in his manner. "Wouldn't that give something away?"
John ran a hand through his hair, realizing that he'd made a mess of things with the one person he wanted to protect most of all. Fuck.
"You can call me John," he said firmly, but couldn't help adding, "just don't be all weird about it."
"Oh, yes," Rodney said immediately, sarcasm set at full, "because I'm such a simpering idiot. Oh John, you're so big and strong and heroic," he added in a lisping falsetto. "I'll manage to remember 'Colonel', thank you very much."
"Rodney," he started.
"And really, there's nothing to be weird about anyway, is there?"
Double fuck. John reached out, trying to clasp Rodney's shoulder, but Rodney took a smooth step back and to the side, placing himself just out of reach.
"Damn it, Rodney. That's not what I meant at all. I'm just having a hard time figuring out how to handle this shit."
Rodney's eyes were hard, but John swore that one of his eyelids twitched before he looked somewhere over John's right shoulder. "I know," he said, nodding once. "I don't want to get you kicked out, believe me. But I thought maybe..." Blue eyes snapped back to John's so fast that he almost stepped back. "But I thought you thought I was worth a little risk."
John met that gaze for a long moment, clenching his jaw as he chewed all the wrong words into itty-bitty pieces. Once he swallowed them down, made sure he wouldn't screw things up worse, he tried for the right ones.
"Rodney." It came out raspy, like a life-long smoker's voice. "Rodney, if we were back home, where nothing mattered except my reputation, I wouldn't give a damn. But here?"
Rodney relaxed a little, his shoulders easing back down. "You're too valuable for them to do anything. They can't."
"Maybe, maybe not. If the wrong people get wind of it, I'm gone."
Rodney nodded. "I understand," he said, voice cracking just a little.
John caught his arm this time, pulling him back as he started to turn away. "No, you don't," John snapped. "I love you, and damn you for making me say that. I love you and I'm the only idiot here with any degree of control of this stupid gene, and I've got so many fucking eyes on me I don't know what to do."
He swallowed, still not sure what he was asking for. His face felt like it was on fire, but he didn't look away from Rodney's eyes.
"I don't know either," Rodney finally said. "And you have no idea how much I hate saying that." But a shaking hand brushed John's cheek, trailing over the stubble on his chin.
John smiled. "I have some idea," he said softly. He turned his head just enough to nip at Rodney's fingers. He pulled Rodney's index finger into his mouth, sucked it don past the first knuckle, then drew back with tongue and suction. He let go with a pop.
Rodney pushed him back against the wall and kissed him, mouth open and fierce. John couldn't get enough, couldn't get deep enough, and neither could Rodney. They both had their mouths open so far their jaws were straining, tongues pushing and teeth gnawing. They finally pulled back a little, still intense but more gentle. Rodney bit at John's jaw as John sucked on Rodney's ear. They kissed again, softer still, and then Rodney drew back to look at him.
"I love you too, you kamikaze idiot."
John wasn't sure how it was possible to feel on top of the world and like a heel at the same time, but he managed. "I'm sorry."
Rodney rolled his eyes. "Just don't do it again. Now shut up and kiss me."
John did.