Romance on the High Seas
by lamardeuse
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Spoilers for Tao of Rodney.
Really, in retrospect, Rodney should have seen it coming.
Days on Atlantis tended to bleed into one another, and the fact that the Lantean day was two hours and fourteen minutes longer than the Earth day made it difficult for him to keep track of the exact date. He had figured out a time exactly six weeks before Christmas and marked it in his calendar, because that was the only way he would remember to send presents to Jeannie and Madison, but apart from that, the other major excuses for Hallmark cards could go hang, in his opinion.
In early February, if he’d been listening, he would have heard the first rumblings of a holiday a man in a relationship would do well to mark, but — well, to be honest, he didn’t exactly feel like a man in a relationship. The only woman with whom he’d ever observed the day had only received her chocolates and free dinner because she’d made the reservation and had not-so-gently elbowed him in the ribs when they’d passed the Godiva display in JC Penney. In the fifteen years since then, he’d become even worse at being a good boyfriend; on the boyfriend-o-meter, he’d definitely slipped into the negative digits.
The day before the holiday Rodney had completely forgotten, Sheppard and Ronon flew to the mainland, returning a few hours later with a huge dead animal that resembled an antelope.
“Good eating,” Ronon grunted, a feral grin on his face. Sheppard said nothing, merely retreated into the jumper again and re-emerged dragging a large plastic crate.
“God, what have you got in there, the entrails?” Rodney said disgustedly, but he moved to help by grabbing one of the handles and hoisting it.
Sheppard grinned. “You’ll see.” Ronon snorted, and shrugged at Rodney’s answering scowl.
Rodney transferred the scowl to Sheppard. “What is it, a secret?”
“Secrets are fun, Rodney,” Sheppard said patiently.
“No, they’re not. Secrets are what top-level clearances are for. Which I have, by the way.”
Sheppard made a face at him. “This isn’t that kind of secret. You’ll just have to wait for your surprise like everyone else.”
Ronon snorted again, and Rodney graduated from scowl to glare. It didn’t work.
At that point, Rodney — being a genius — should have clued in that there was a Special Occasion in the offing, but still there was no epiphany. The fact that his staff had been growing more cheerful over the course of the week also failed to ping on his radar; since he didn’t bother to observe their emotional states on any day of the year, he didn’t see why he should start now.
And then that morning, he opened his door and nearly stepped on the large purple flower that was lying in wait outside it. Rodney stopped and stared down at it stupidly for a moment, and then it hit him.
“Well, shit,” he gusted, causing the med tech walking down the hall to shift into overdrive and scurry off.
“Oh God, it’s Valentine’s day,” Rodney said without preamble as he strode into Elizabeth’s office.
Elizabeth looked up, and Rodney realized she had just been sniffing a large yellow flower that was similar to his. “Yes, I know,” she said, smiling sappily.
Rodney stabbed a finger at her. “Wait, where did you get that?”
Elizabeth released a small sigh before answering. “We have an anonymous Cupid on Atlantis, Rodney,” she explained. “Everyone was given a flower.”
“Oh,” said Rodney, mind flashing on the crate he’d helped Sheppard unload from the jumper. The crate had been rather light for its size, and oh God, if Sheppard had bothered to make a gesture like that it meant he actually gave a shit about Valentine’s day, and Rodney was so, so very screwed.
“I have to go,” Rodney said, hooking a thumb over his shoulder.
“Happy Valentine’s day,” Elizabeth called after him.
“That’s what you think,” Rodney muttered to himself.
At lunchtime, Sheppard gave the rest of the team superhero valentines. Ronon’s featured a smiling Thing sporting a big red bow tie proclaiming to the world that it was “lovin’ time”, and Teyla’s featured Wonder Woman beating the crap out of some hapless boob. Rodney’s card depicted Batman and Robin driving off into the sunset in the Batmobile.
“Thank you,” Rodney said weakly; Sheppard just waggled his eyebrows. Rodney had spent the entire morning — a morning in which he was supposed to be working on the power grid — trying to beg, borrow or barter a suitable gift. After three hours of sweat and tears, he'd ended up with a half-eaten box of chocolates and a mismatched pair of sweatsocks.
Christ, he was now officially the worst boyfriend ever.
Ronon’s Valentine’s gift to the team was, of course, the dead animal, though Rodney suspected he’d slaughtered it mainly to impress Teyla. Teyla, to Rodney’s surprise, was suitably impressed; it was currently slow roasting over some kind of fire pit they’d rigged on the South Pier with Zelenka’s help. She was already licking her bloodthirsty little chops at the prospect of the feast ahead.
Rodney was actually considering bribing one of the Marines to fly him to the mainland so that he could murder his own animal when Sheppard nudged him.
"Hey, you awake?"
"Yes, yes, I — I have to go," Rodney said, hopping to his feet, because he was a genius, after all, and he could do this.
Even if it killed him.
"Okay, I don't think I'm gonna need to eat for another week." Sheppard patted his belly, which was sticking up rather prominently at the moment, while around him the rest of the carnivores on Atlantis sprawled in similar postures.
"More wine?" Teyla asked, leaning over to top up Sheppard's glass. The woman had produced enough bottles from some hidden stash to keep two dozen partygoers tipsy; when the people who hadn't heard of Valentine's day three years ago had a better grip on the holiday than he did, Rodney knew he was doomed.
But in the intervening time (what the hell, the power grid could wait one more day) he had put his massive brain to work, and he was now certain that he had a foolproof Valentine's day surprise set for later this evening.
“Um,” he began, because this was the difficult part, even though he'd now seen Sheppard naked enough times that this should no longer be awkward, “so.”
Sheppard swivelled around to look at him. “So.”
Rodney scratched at his neck, slowly turning his head so that he could see there was no one in the vicinity but the team. “You want to, um – later?”
Something flickered in Sheppard's gaze, but it disappeared too quickly for Rodney to decipher. “How much later?”
“Around – eleven?” Three hours; that would give Sheppard enough time to digest and sober up, and give Rodney time to put his plan into action.
Sheppard leaned a little closer, though not too close. “Your place or mine?”
“Um, neither?” Rodney took out the schematic drawing of the corridors on the west pier, then unfolded them and pointed to the room he'd marked in red pen. “Right here.”
Sheppard squinted at the drawing. “Okay?”
Rodney grinned. “Okay.” Scrambling to his feet, he bade the assembled throng good night, then hurried off to complete his preparations.
Sheppard stood just outside the door, staring at the room as though it was going to bite him.
“Won't you, ah, come in?” Rodney's palms were sweating. Teyla's rotgut had worn off with a vengeance, and it was entirely possible he was experiencing a mild form of delirium tremens.
“Sure,” Sheppard said, but his gaze was darting about the dimly lit room as if he were searching for Wraith.
Now just about every part of Rodney was sweating. “Is – uh, is something wrong?”
Sheppard gestured at the room in general, his arm uncharacteristically stiff as it swept in an arc. “Where did you get all the candles?”
Rodney beamed. “Teyla.” Teyla was the Wal-Mart of candles; Sheppard had to know that, he'd procured enough of her supply for their meditation attempts when Rodney had been —
— when Rodney had been dying.
“Oh. Oh, my God.” Frantically, Rodney thought on at the lights while he began racing around the room, blowing out candles as he went.
“Hey, Rodney. Rodney. C'mon, it's fine.”
“It's not fine!” Rodney hissed, and this was actually worse than his high school grad dance, where Tina Worthington had dumped him in front of the whole student body. “I can't believe I — ” He puffed out the last candle, then coughed when the last wisp of smoke from the still-glowing wick went up his nose.
“Hey.” Sheppard's hands closed around Rodney's biceps and held on. “Look at me.”
“I will as – soon as – my eyes stop watering,” Rodney wheezed. “Oh God, I suck at Valentine's day.”
Sheppard chuckled. “You're not so bad. After all, you're a guy.”
“So are you, in case you hadn't noticed,” Rodney shot back petulantly.
“Well, sue me. It's the first time in a long time I've felt like celebrating the holiday.”
Rodney blinked through the stinging sensation to stare at Sheppard. “You – really?”
“Yeah,” Sheppard said softly. “I didn't think slaying an animal for you was exactly the way to go, but I figured it would be nice to spread the joy a little, you know?”
Rodney opened his mouth and closed it again, because to his knowledge no one had ever associated the word joy with Rodney McKay before this, and he wasn't quite sure how to respond. And then Sheppard solved the problem for him when he cupped Rodney's face, brushed a thumb over his lips and leaned in for a slow, sweet kiss.
“Oh,” Rodney breathed when they parted. It seemed to fit.
“So what is this place?” Sheppard said, drawing back to look around. His eyes widened when he saw the layout and the luxurious, built-in furniture. “Wow.”
“Yes, isn't it great?” Rodney beamed. “One of the teams explored this section a couple of months ago, but since it was only residences, we didn't bother to spend much time here.” He nodded at the curved, well-appointed room with the stunning views of the city. “If it weren't so far from the central tower, I'd be living here in a heartbeat.”
Sheppard peered at the walls. “I only see one door over there.”
“That's because everything but the bathroom is right in here. This place is convertible.” Moving away from Sheppard for a moment, Rodney walked to the control panel and passed his hand over it. In one corner of the room, panels in the wall slid out and formed cabinets and the dark stone-like surface that was the Ancient stovetop.
“Cool,” Sheppard said, approving.
Encouraged, Rodney activated another control. The kitchen disappeared and the lighting dimmed; a soft whirring noise emerged from the sunken living room. Sheppard stepped forward to get a better view, then stopped dead. “Whoa.”
Rodney nodded.
“That's a really big bed,” Sheppard said. Slowly, he descended the steps, then leaned down and brushed a hand over the coverlet. “A really, really big bed.”
“What do you think?” Rodney asked, beginning to get nervous again.
“Rodney,” Sheppard said slowly, a smirk curving his mouth as he straightened and turned, “you realize what you've found here, right?”
Rodney's face fell. “No?”
“This, my friend, is an Ancient bachelor pad.”
Rodney stared at him. “What?”
“Come on, what else have you got in there? Mirrors in the ceiling? Barry White on the hi-fi?”
“I – I – ” Rodney spluttered.
“It's totally okay,” Sheppard said, still smirking as he wrapped his arms around Rodney's waist and pulled him closer. “I can be Doris Day in this scenario. But there's only one problem.”
“Oh? What's that?”
Sheppard leaned in and bit Rodney's neck just enough to make him shudder. “Unlike Doris, I'm prepared to put out.”
Rodney grinned and slid his hands into Sheppard's hair and pulled him up for a kiss. “In that case, call me Rock.”
“Rodney?”
“Mmmm?” Rodney looked up from his current vantage point between Sheppard's legs. He was stretched out comfortably and his toes weren't even touching the edge of the mattress.
“You win at Valentine's day.”
“Yes, I do,” Rodney murmured, pressing his lips to the jut of Sheppard's hipbone.
End
February 2007
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