Four
Kisses That Didn't Happen, and One That Did
by lamardeuse
Rating: R
Pairing:
McKay/Sheppard
Warnings
(highlight to view):
sexual situations
For Pearl
1
Rodney thinks about it,
sometimes, even though he knows it’s ridiculous from either
perspective. Typically, the scenario resembles the plot of a bad porno,
without the bawm-chicka-bawm-bawm music: Sheppard will lure him
into the hangar on some pretext, then black the windows of the
puddlejumper, shove him into a chair and proceed to
blow him into next week. Or he’ll ambush Rodney in the lab one night
when
he’s half-asleep, push him against a wall and fuck him fast and hard.
Rodney knows it’s gone
too far when his fantasies turn to kissing, because he has postulated
a simple theory: either Sheppard puts none of himself or all of himself
into each kiss he gives, and Rodney’s not sure he wants to find out
which
corollary would be proven if Sheppard ever kisses him. But some nights
when he’s feeling alone enough and frightened enough, he thinks about
having
all of Sheppard, in that short span of time defined by the soft press
of
their mouths.
2
“I was fifteen, and she
was eighteen.”
A low whistle of
appreciation from Ford gets Rodney’s attention; until now, he’s been
doing his damnedest to ignore their sophomoric reminiscences.
“Brilliant, shy, had no idea
how beautiful she was. None of the guys her age would give her
the time of day because she was too smart for them.” A dry,
self-deprecating chuckle. “But I was sure I could convince her she was
a goddess.”
“And did you?” Teyla’s
voice.
When Sheppard doesn’t
answer right away, Rodney looks up from the Brotherhood text that
Allina has
given him and meets Sheppard’s frank, hazel gaze. It’s like a caress,
like falling slowly and helplessly toward a sun.
“Not for long enough,”
Sheppard says, turning back toward his teammates with a cocky grin,
“but
yeah. I think I did.”
3
The first time Rodney sees
Sheppard after Sheppard miraculously doesn’t vaporize himself
into his component atoms, he thinks about it. Seriously, honestly
thinks about it, because he thought he’d never see him again, and in
that brief moment between terror and recognition, he understands that
if he lives and Sheppard doesn’t, he’ll have regrets. Real, honest to
God regrets, and the fact
that he can’t remember ever having any regrets before this leaves him
feeling shaken and small, because it’s not like he hasn’t had the
opportunity for a whole boatload of them.
And the first time Rodney
sees him is semi-perfect; he runs into him right outside of Sheppard’s
quarters, and so all he has to do is back Sheppard through his open
door
and kiss him. Sheppard will be startled at first, and then maybe he’ll
groan
and his mouth will soften and he’ll shove at Rodney a little, because
he
was scared, too, and he needs this, needs to be reminded he’s alive,
he’s
real, he’s here, and Rodney might not be too good at
relationships
but he can give him this, and maybe Sheppard – John, he’ll call him
John
– will –
“Rodney? Rodney, you okay?”
Rodney blinks and stares
and gapes and Jesus, talk about wasting probably the most potentially
romantic moment of his life, because Sheppard – definitely Sheppard,
not
John – is staring at him like he’s in need of some form of horse
tranquilizer.
“I’m – I’m just – very
glad to see you,” Rodney says simply, and maybe it’s not everything he
hoped, but Sheppard smiles and looks self-consciously at the wall and
says, “Yeah, I’m kinda glad to be seen,” and at least Rodney is able to
give him that.
4
“Goddammit!” Rodney
watches the Ancient crystal fall from his numb fingers and shatter into
a million pieces on the floor and Jesus, he’s so sick of this, he knows
he screwed up but he can fix almost everything and he doesn’t have the
first clue
of how to fix this, and it’s driving him crazier than he could have
imagined. And considering everything in the Pegasus galaxy has been
conspiring to
drive him crazy pretty much from day one, this is quite a statement.
“Calm down, Rodney,”
Sheppard says coolly, and that’s just like him, isn’t it, he’s cool,
he’s always cool, and Rodney would give his left nut to find
out what it
takes to make John Sheppard hot.
And yes, okay, he now has
conclusive proof that he’s gone round the bend, because suddenly he
realizes he’s got his hands wrapped around Sheppard’s biceps and he’s
standing
close enough to smell Sheppard’s after shave, which isn’t Aqua Velva
but
is something clean and strangely sweet. Sheppard’s eyes are round and
puzzled
and after weeks of avoidance and indifference even this feels like
flying
apart, like stepping off the edge of the universe into another reality
where
time equals the sound of Sheppard’s soft, even breathing.
“I – I’m sorry,”
Rodney whispers, because he doesn’t want this to go on, but he doesn’t
know how to end it, and he’s never wished to be anyone but himself
before this, and he should hate Sheppard for that but he doesn’t, he
can’t.
“I know you are,” Sheppard
says, almost as quietly, and then he’s taking a step forward and his
fingers are closing around Rodney’s arms and holy Christ, his mouth
really is more beautiful the closer you get –
“Then please,” Rodney
murmurs, and now he can feel the soft puff of Sheppard’s breath.
Sheppard’s mouth curls into a smile, the first one Rodney's seen in
what feels like forever, and he murmurs back, “Please what, Rodney?”
Rodney might have growled
then, he’s not sure; he suspects it might have been much less sexy than
that. But whatever it is, it’s enough to make Sheppard’s eyes darken.
Sheppard – John, John – John leans forward and –
– Radek walks into the
lab and they jump apart like two guilty teenagers.
1
“Okay,” Rodney concedes.
“It’s a possibility.”
John lifts an eyebrow and
Rodney can tell he thinks he’s won.
Ha.
“Possible as in
theory-of-relativity possible or birds-evolved-from-dinosaurs
possible?” John asks.
“Possible as in
this-planet-will-fall-into-the-sun-in-the-next-five-minutes possible,”
Rodney answers, grinning evilly.
John’s eyes widen, then
narrow, and the next thing Rodney knows he’s flat on his back on the
mattress with an obviously horny John Sheppard leaning over him.
Rodney’s not complaining.
“You promised,” John
whines, lips brushing against Rodney’s before pulling away.
Rodney tries to feel
guilty, but he really doesn’t. “I don’t remember promising anything,”
he sniffs. He tests John’s hold on his wrists and finds it to be quite
strong, and
wow, yes, that’s a big turn-on right there.
“You want me to put out
the word you’re a welsher?” John murmurs, going for Rodney’s earlobe
this time.
“You want me to walk down
the hall to the mess with a huge boner in my shorts just so you can
have coffee in bed at the crack of dawn?” Rodney demands, feigning
outrage because he’d do just about anything for John and the bastard
knows it.
John’s smile goes crooked,
and Rodney goes from aroused to desperate in about half a second.
“Huge, huh?” he drawls, one hand releasing Rodney’s wrist to slide down
Rodney’s body to the waistband of his pajamas. Seizing the opportunity,
Rodney wraps his free hand around the back of John’s head and pulls him
down roughly.
John opens for him immediately, just like he did the first time, just
like
he’s done every time they’ve kissed since, which has been as often as
they
can manage it in between certain-death situations and crises of
intergalactic proportions.
He doesn’t have John all
the time, but in that short span of time defined by the press of their
mouths, he has all of John, and that’s enough. That’s more than enough,
more than he ever hoped to receive.
More than he ever hoped to
give.
“Okay,” Rodney gasps when
John finally lets him breathe, “you’ll get your damned coffee.”
“Later,” John growls,
leaning in to give Rodney another perfect moment.
End
February 2006
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