The Adventures Of
John Doe And The Hot Stranger
Email: firstname.lastname@example.org Rating: NC-17 Category: Humor, first time Pairing: Sheppard/McKay Disclaimer: Not mine. Spoilers: Vague one for Defiant One. Summary:On Stargate Atlantis today: intrigue,
amnesia, explosions and sex. Author's Notes: First, there are the usual suspects,
Suz and D. *smooch* You guys kick so much ass, even though D forgot
to mention that Kylie Lee does this for a living(!).
Especially thanks to Suz for the title (see how I'm subtly shifting
the blame to you?) and D for straightening my Ronon out.
Second, Kylie Lee. Thanks so much. Thanks for making
me work for it and for making me stop and make it better. *smooch*
He woke up with a headache, wrapped around an unfamiliar
(and very naked) body with no recollection of how he got there. He
blinked and looked around the strange room, twilight shadows on the
walls. The stranger groaned and twisted in his grasp, and he realized
that he was holding onto the stranger pretty tight.
It was when the stranger--dark hair, pale skin, and even in the half-light
kind of hot--twisted his head around and blinked at him that it hit
him. He couldn't remember who he was.
Panicking, he scrabbled away from Hot Stranger, managed to untangle
himself from the covers, and fell off the bed, slamming against the
floor with a thud.
Hot Stranger peered down at him. "You okay?"
"No! I'm not okay! What the hell did you drug me with?"
Realizing he was very naked as well, he tugged sharply at the nearest
part of the covers hanging over the edge of the bed, pulling them
off so he could quickly cover himself up.
Hot Stranger frowned. "I didn't drug you." He smirked.
"I don't have to drug people to have sex with them." The
smirk faded. "At least, I don't think so."
He frowned suspiciously. "You don't remember?"
Hot Stranger shook his head. "No. It's all...blank."
He nodded quickly, a little relieved. "Me too. I mean, not that
it wouldn't be understandable that I forgot about last night, never
been much of a drinker...I think...but I can't remember anything before
"Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure I didn't slip you a mickey."
Hot Stranger sounded mildly affronted.
He snorted. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insult your delicate--"
He broke off and frowned. "Soorry. Soooorry," he said experimentally.
Hot Stranger grinned gleefully. "You're Canadian!"
He harrumphed. "And judging by your tone of voice mentioning
that fine nation, you're obviously American."
Hot Stranger smiled knowingly, nodding. "I like college football."
He nodded in agreement and pointed at himself. "Hockey."
Hot Stranger shifted until he was propped up on an elbow, and he
realized that with him having stolen the covers, Hot Stranger was
now completely naked. Of course, he'd known that before, back from
when Hot Stranger had been completely naked and in his arms. He sternly
told himself not to be distracted by the thought; with or without
memory, the man could still be some kind of psycho killer.
"So, I don't suppose you know where we are?" Hot Stranger
"Well," he replied confidently, "it's obvious that
we're either in Canada or America."
Hot Stranger rolled his eyes. "That really narrows it down."
He shot him an annoyed glare before starting to search the floor.
Aha! There, by the foot of the bed, a pair of pants. He crawled over
to them, carefully keeping a tight hold on the covers, and gave the
pants a thoughtful look. Then he threw them onto the bed. "Here.
The last time I was this skinny, I was twelve."
"Hey!" Hot Stranger objected. "I'm not skinny! I'm...handsomely
"Whatever you say, Romeo," he snorted, looking around for
a second pair of pants.
"You seem to like blaming me for everything," Hot Stranger
said before--judging by the rustling noises--pulling on his pants.
"Ha! I bet I wasn't even gay before you." He froze. "Oh
my god. You were probably my first! You bastard!"
Hot Stranger looked skeptical. "Your first?"
"Guy--my first guy, you moron."
"Again with the blaming me! How do you know you didn't seduce
He shot him a scathing look as he stood, trying to get a better view
of the room. "Do I strike you as the seductive type?"
Hot Stranger was quiet for a moment. "Good point."
Feeling pleased at having won the discussion, he walked over to the
window, blanket around his body, and squinted out. Twilight had turned
to very dark, and he could just vaguely make out a few buildings and
trees. Suddenly, everything was bathed in blue light and he looked
up to see...
...two moons uncovered by fleeting clouds.
"Oh," he said faintly and suddenly Hot Stranger was by
his side, looking up too.
"Oh," Hot Stranger repeated. "Oh, crap."
"Now, don't panic."
"Panic? Why would I panic?" he said. He cast around for
a paper bag so that he could hyperventilate in peace, but there didn't
seem to be one lying around. In fact, the room was strangely, anonymously
empty, like a rustic hotel room. "I don't know my name, your
name, where we are, though we seem to be on *another planet* and and
and..." He looked wildly at Hot Stranger. "I can't find
Hot Stranger gripped his shoulder and looked at him steadily. "Deep
breaths." He gulped in air. "Good, that's it. Your pants
are over there, by the bed."
He looked over and yes, there they were, on the other side. He glanced
hopefully at Hot Stranger. "And the two moons?"
Hot Stranger hesitated. "Still working on that one."
He walked over and picked up his pants. When the other man had his
back turned, he dropped the covers and hastily pulled them on. "How
can you be so calm?"
Hot Stranger looked at him, a bemused expression on his face. "I
don't know. I just can't shake the feeling that things could be a
His eyebrows rose. "Worse?"
"Sure," he shrugged. "We're warm, we have clothes,
we're in one piece," he looked over at the bed and smirked, "we've
gotten laid recently..."
He rolled his eyes. "Fine. So what do we do now?"
"Well, we get dressed, try and find if we're wearing some sort
"Of course!" Hastily, he starting patting his pockets,
spotted a jacket across the room, and went through that as well. Disappointingly
enough, he didn't find anything, and he turned back to see Hot Stranger
turning the last pocket of another jacket inside out.
He looked at the clothes. "These look kind of military, don't
Hot Stranger frowned. "Yeah, but shouldn't we be wearing dog
tags if that were the case?"
"Hmm," he replied, hand absently going to his throat and
finding nothing there.
"What should we call each other?" Hot Stranger asked.
"I don't know. Dibs on John Doe!" he exclaimed in triumph.
Hot Stranger frowned at him. "I don't know. You don't really
look like a John."
"Oh, please, you're just bitter I snagged the best name,"
John said, trying the name out in his head. There, it worked just
"Fine, you can be John, geez. I just don't see your name starting
with a J."
"What do you think I should be called, then?"
"I don't know," Hot Stranger said thoughtfully, "something
else. Something like...Marvin."
John stared at him. "Yeah, so sticking to John Doe."
"So, what about me then?"
John stared at him thoughtfully. "Yeah, I can't keep thinking
of you as--" he broke off and felt his face grow warm.
Hot St--the other guy looked intrigued. "Thinking of me as what?"
"Nothing, never mind, um, I don't know, something beginning
with a C, I think. Calvin?"
The other guy snorted. "Please." He shot John a look but
seemed to let the issue drop. "Chris," he said decisively.
"Chris it is," John said, spotting a T-shirt that looked
about his size and pulling it on.
Chris was pulling on his clothes too, and John felt a brief pang
of regret that he was covering up before noticing the tightness of
the black thing Chris was pulling on. Chris shrugged on his jacket,
which did look fairly military in style, but had no other marks to
indicate his rank or what kind of military branch he was part of.
He gave John a small smile. "Let's go."
"Right." John nodded and followed closely as Chris quietly
opened the door.
John found sneaking around a strange place on an alien planet with
a man he didn't know...oddly fun. His heartbeat had to be over 200
and he was probably going to have an aneurysm, but there was definitely
something exhilarating about this--in a terrifying kind of way.
"Do you have any idea where you're going?" he whispered
loudly to Chris, who shot him an annoyed look.
"Not really, but feel free to take the lead."
"No, no, I feel certain that you're fully capable of getting
us lost on your own."
"We're on another planet. I don't think you can get more lost
John thought about that for a moment before grudgingly saying, "Fine."
Chris shook his head and sighed, and suddenly John staggered. The
short corridor they were walking through had given way to a far more
urgent image: Chris, underneath him, sighing and writhing.
"Whoa, you okay there, John?"
John blinked and looked down at Chris's hand, which was gripping
his arm tightly. He licked his dry lips, trying to ignore the way
Chris's hand burned through the fabric of his jacket. "I...yes,
yes, I'm fine. Let's keep moving."
Chris gave him a concerned look. "You sure? I mean, we're bound
to be this way for a reason. Maybe we *were* drugged."
John shot him a panicked look. "Oh great, we're probably slowly
"I didn't say that," Chris said in exasperation. "You're
very...pessimistic, aren't you?"
John snorted. "I have to do something to balance up your disgusting
"Yes, I see how not assuming we're totally screwed is--"
He broke off and frowned.
"What? What is it?"
Chris seemed to shake himself before smiling easily. "Nothing.
We should keep moving." But he shot John a funny look before
turning to walk again.
Ha. John was so not the only one having porno flashbacks. He just
hoped Chris's were more useful.
They'd made it through the house or the hotel, which seemed to be
completely empty – not to mention strangely low-tech, without bathrooms
or even closets – and had gotten outside when the ambush happened.
One second, they were taking a nice little stroll under the two (and
John could almost think it without his eye twitching) moons when...okay,
so maybe they were just two people, but one of them was a giant! With
Chris pushed him backward and placed himself in front of John, a
pointless act of chivalry, but touching nonetheless. John peered over
Chris's shoulder. The woman, who was very pretty, moved with the sort
of fluid grace that made John think of either exotic dancers, or exotic
dancers who could kill you really, really quickly. The man, well.
Giant! John didn't really feel like getting to know him better--he
looked like the kind of guy who would rip you to shreds first and
ask questions later.
"Dr. McKay, Colonel Sheppard--are you all right?" Hot Female
Stranger (or Killer Exotic Dancer) looked both relieved and concerned.
"We tried to contact you, but there was no answer."
Chris looked at her with narrowed eyes, voice tight, and god, he
was hot. "Did you do this to us?"
Hot Female Stranger frowned slightly and glanced at the giant, who
looked impassive, yet ready to start ripping them to pieces. "I'm
not sure I understand what you are talking about."
"She's probably forgotten," John said with disdain.
Hot Female Stranger frowned even more. "Are you all right?"
"Get ready to run," Chris said quietly to John.
"Run? Are you insane? She looks really fast, and that giant
has to take, like, one step to catch up with us!" He thought
he managed to keep pretty quiet for being so outraged.
"Size doesn't matter," Chris mumbled, an expression on
his face that John just knew meant he was planning on doing something
"That's a myth," John hissed just as Chris moved his hand
sharply and threw something behind Hot Female Stranger and the giant.
John had time to see their shocked expressions as they threw themselves
to the ground before he and Chris started running.
The explosion made his ears ring, his pulse was up to at least 300,
and this was a really lousy time to realize he didn't like running.
"Why didn't you tell me you had a grenade?" He was already
panting, but it actually felt more like nerves than actual fatigue.
"I didn't know! These pants are really baggy!" Chris, of
course, didn't sound winded in the least. "I just felt it when
I pressed up against you."
"Ah, and you figured I wasn't just happy to see you?"
He saw a flash of Chris's teeth in the dark as he grinned before
they ran into the forest.
"You sure this is a good idea?" John asked after they'd
been running for a while, trying not to breathe too hard, his arms
sore from all the branches that had whapped against him. "What
if we get eaten by a bear or something?"
Chris, of course, probably had the branches magically bow out of
his way. He was the kind of guy who ran through a forest looking handsomely
ruffled, not scratched or bruised. "Would you rather stay behind
with those two?"
"Hey, I'm not the one who missed from the incredible range of,
oh, four feet."
"I didn't want to hurt them," Chris said firmly.
"Great," John muttered. "I'll remember that when they
track us down and the giant starts ripping us to shreds."
Chris slowed to a walk and looked over his shoulder. "Do you
think those are our names?"
"Maybe. Or they're just playing with our heads. But if those
were our names, I'm clearly the doctor."
"Oh yeah?" Chris looked amused.
"Yes, I'm clearly the brain and you're clearly the brawn,"
he said superiorly, trying not to be too obvious as he looked at Chris's
"Marvin McKay," Chris mused out loud.
"Oh, will you give that up already!" In the moonlight,
John could see the amusement on Chris's face. "Oh, very mature."
"I thought so," Chris grinned, and John realized suddenly
that despite everything that was happening, Chris was having fun too.
"You know," John said slowly, "we probably do this
Chris's eyebrow rose. "Lose our memories and run around alien
"Well, not the first part, but the second part?" John nodded.
"Yeah, I think so."
"Are you remembering something?"
"No, not really. Just a feeling, I guess."
Chris was looking over his shoulder again. "We should keep moving.
We--" John grabbed his arm roughly. "What? What is it?"
John stared at Chris's concerned face--watched as it and the dark
forest around them bled away to Chris smiling at him and leaning up
to kiss him.
Kissing Chris is really really nice. His lips are soft and wet,
and his tongue does things inside John's mouth that shouldn't possibly
feel that good. He pulls back, panting, licking his lips. Chris touches
his thumb to John's lower lip, rubbing it, stopping just before pushing
his thumb inside. Then he licks his own lips and pushes at John's
shoulders until he's on his knees.
He stares up at Chris, who doesn't make another move but stares
at his mouth in fascination. Then John's clumsy fingers are fumbling
with the buttons of Chris's pants, and the next few seconds are rushed
and heated. Then Chris is rubbing the tip of his cock against John's
lips in much the same way his thumb had moments before. Obediently,
John opens his mouth wide, and Chris groans as his dick slides into
"John? John, are you okay?"
He was sitting down, back against a hard and bumpy surface, Chris
hunched down in front of him, disappointingly enough still wearing
his pants. "Hey," John murmured.
"Hey," Chris replied. "You had me a little worried
there for a while. You fainted."
"Passed out," John said indignantly, then froze.
Chris was staring at him with a stricken expression on his face.
"We know each other."
"Yes," John said faintly.
"I still don't remember you, though," Chris said apologetically.
"That's okay. This way you'll believe me when I say I'm great
He had a full second to admire Chris's quirky smile before his tongue
was in Chris's mouth and good god, why hadn't he done this before?
Actually, come to think of it, he had. That is, he probably had. Chris
moaned and pushed John back against the tree, clearly trying to eat
John alive. They really shouldn't have bothered getting dressed. His
hand was sliding down Chris's chest, toward the buttons of his pants.
Chris made encouraging noises into his mouth while sliding his hand
between John's legs, and wow--seriously, wow.
He'd just popped the first button of Chris's pants open when something
heavy and coarse dropped on top of them. Chris's mouth separated from
John's with a wet sound. "What the--" he spluttered as they
Then the scary giant was there, giving them a feral grin and dragging
them away from the tree inside a huge net, John and Chris scrabbling
vainly at the thick rope.
"Do not be alarmed"--and of course, Hot Female Stranger
was there as well, apparently trying to smooth things over. Fat chance;
John had been *that* close to getting some in...well, in as far as
he could remember. Ha. "We mean you no harm. We are your friends."
"When you say friends, do you mean the kind you meet in prison
showers?" John said, glaring as hard as he dared.
"I think now would be a good time to shut up, McKay," Chris
muttered. His elbow slammed into John's side as the giant tugged some
more at the net.
"I am--" John broke up and stared at Chris. "What
did you call me?"
Chris gave him a bemused look, but before he could respond, Hot Female
Stranger crouched down next to them. "We do not know what has
happened to you, but please believe me when I say we mean you no harm.
Something has been done to your memories."
"No, really?" John's voice was sarcastic, but not the worst
he could manage. She was very hot, after all.
"Let us out and we can talk it out," Chris requested sensibly.
"So you can throw grenades at us again?" The giant's voice
wasn't as deep as John had expected. He'd expected something more
along the lines of Darth Vader, and how sad was it that he could remember
popular culture but not his own name?
Chris smiled self-deprecatingly. "I'm fresh out."
"We will take you to Dr. Weir and let her decide."
John had just enough time to be concerned about being taken to a
doctor of some sort when the giant again started dragging the net,
with them still in it, across the bumpy and rough ground. "Hey,
ow! We can walk, you know!"
"Yeah, so you say," the giant grunted, but he stopped.
He kind of looked like he was smirking, though. Bastard.
Hot Female Stranger gave the giant a knowing look. "You are
enjoying this too much."
"I know you don't remember me," Second Hot Female Stranger
said, "but I'm a friend. My name is Elizabeth Weir. We work together."
"What kind of workplace keeps you tied up?" John asked
grouchily. Both he and Chris were strapped to a hospital bed each
while nurses and an annoying (yet hot--and what was up with all these
hot people?) doctor with an intriguing accent drew more blood than
John was ready to part with.
"If we could be sure that you wouldn't try anything if we untied
you..." she said pointedly.
"The marine was an accident!" Chris sounded so sincere
and innocent--John had to admire that in a man who kneed marines in
Hot Doctor entered the room and smiled. "Well, I've got good
news." He looked at Elizabeth. "The drug in their systems
is fading quickly. I'm confident they'll be back to their charming
selves within twenty-four hours."
John glared. "How reassuring."
Hot Doctor shot him an annoyed look that, strangely enough, almost
seemed fond. "Although some seem to be themselves already."
Elizabeth visibly relaxed, her shoulders lowering a fraction. She
looked at them with a small smile on her face. She seemed so sincere...But
then, so did Chris, and John knew he wasn't sorry about the marine.
"I hope you understand why I'm keeping you in restraints for
now. We'll keep you as comfortable as possible until you're back."
"I feel pretty present." Chris looked at John. "You?"
"Yes, yes, very present."
Her smile widened. "And you do seem remarkably like yourselves."
John gave her his best smile. "Which is why I know better than
to leave you two to your own devices." He turned his smile into
She gave him a look that, like the doctor's, seemed fond. She nodded
at Chris before turning and leaving.
"Remembering anything?" John asked Chris intently.
Chris sighed. "No, not this time either. Even though it has
to have been at least two whole minutes since the last time you asked,"
John wanted to wave his hand impatiently, but he couldn't because
they were strapped to the bed. He frowned. "Well, forgive me
for thinking it might be slightly important."
"I promise that you'll be the first person I tell if I remember
anything, anything at all." John envied the fact that despite
being strapped to a bed as well, Chris managed to seem relaxed and
infinitely comfortable. He looked more like a gigolo involved in some
kinky doctor fantasy than--heeeeeeeeeey.
"You're a gigolo!" John blurted out, both horrified and
pleased at his discovery.
Chris's head snapped around, eyes wide. "What?" His voice
broke a little, a higher pitch than its normal drawl.
Another thought hit John. "No, wait, I went down on you, so
Chris's eyes went even wider. "What?"
"Oh, please, like you haven't been having porno flashbacks too."
Chris gathered up the tattered edges of his cool. "No, I haven't."
John's mouth opened and closed. "Oh."
"I've been remembering you, sure, but I'm pretty sure there
was no sex involved at the time."
John's face was so not heating up, damn it. "Oh."
"But it's nice to know you went down on me," Chris said
John's face was so warm it wasn't even funny. "Yeah, okay, shut
"Look," Chris said, "don't worry about it. It's hardly
worse than waking up naked together, right?"
"So, what was your flashback about, then?" The sooner this
subject was closed, the better.
Chris looked away, thoughtful. "I'm not sure--it's a little
fuzzy. But hey," his eyes returned back to John and he grinned.
"You can fire a gun!"
"Really?" John said, pleased.
"Yeah!" Chris said, nodding, and they both grinned like
dorks at each other for a moment. Then Chris's smile faded. "But
I'm not sure if you were shooting at me and missing, or shooting at
"Wow, that would be a letdown." John's mouth turned downward
at the thought. "If we were actually mortal enemies or something."
Chris gave him that strange, quirky smile he'd given John right before
John had kissed him. "Well, just so you know, I like you now."
"Ah, well," John said, face hot for a more pleasant reason,
Chris's smile froze, and John frowned. "Chris?"
Chris drew in a sharp breath, eyes wide and shocky, before gasping,
"Rodney," his back arching and his body seizing, and John
screamed for help.
Remembering who he was, Rodney decided, was more of a letdown than
he’d expected. Sure, somehow he’d known that he was what you might
call (and he often had) an intellectual giant, but there were a lot
of things in his life in Atlantis that weren’t as exciting as they
should have been.
For one, it would have been nice to find out that the reason he and
the colonel had lost their memories was due to some nefarious scheme
by the Occams, focusing on the both of them because they were, obviously,
the most important people on Atlantis. Well, maybe save for Elizabeth.
But of course, it couldn’t be anything like that.
“They wished to make sure that our morals were high even stripped
of that most known to us,” Teyla had explained during the debriefing,
sounding unimpressed. Rodney figured that if their food supplies hadn’t
been low, she would most likely have told the Occams to go screw themselves,
only using nicer words and possibly sticks.
Rodney had been disappointed when Elizabeth had declined his offer
to devise some tests of his own for the potential future visits of
the Occams. It wasn’t like what he had in mind was harmful. Much.
He wasn’t even revered for his genius, though it had made something
in his chest tighten a little when Zelenka gave his arm a hard squeeze
and told him that it was good to have him back.
Most importantly, he couldn’t rub Colonel Sheppard’s face in the
fact that he too had “fainted” while having a flashback, because the
colonel was avoiding him. True, Rodney wasn’t expecting the colonel
to join him in his vital work to keep Atlantis running, but Rodney
usually caught sight of him in the corridors from time to time, or
in the mess hall.
It was possible that the colonel was simply catching up on sleep,
but Rodney wasn’t a genius for nothing. He’d calculated that the possibility
of the colonel taking it easy was less than 4.39211%, following the
possibility of the colonel not flirting with every alien native they
met (4.39456%). This made the possibility that the colonel was avoiding
him depressingly high.
Rodney didn’t see what the big deal was. What was a little oral sex
between friends? Sure, there was the whole gay thing, and the whole
military thing, and the whole Rodney-wanting-more-than-just-sex thing,
but really. Between Rodney’s brains and the colonel’s many fine qualities
(though the colonel’s unfortunate tendency to try and blow himself
up occasionally did withdraw from the total) it was nothing they couldn’t
This avoidance thing had to be dealt with, with as little fuss as
The thing was that even though Rodney was a genius, Colonel Sheppard
was (a) supernaturally sneaky, (b) most likely Atlantis’ love child,
and (c) really annoying in the way he kept not being outsmarted by
Rodney. When he couldn’t find the colonel via Atlantis’s systems,
he started asking around. How was it possible for the man to manage
to stay one step ahead of Rodney at all time? Didn’t he have to, oh,
Rodney decided, after spending an entire day in the mess hall, that
the colonel must have an inside man who brought him food. Unfortunately,
a lot of people took their food with them and Rodney couldn’t possibly
follow them all. Morosely, he stirred his chocolate pudding. How was
he supposed to convince the colonel that they should have more sex
when he couldn’t even speak to him face to face?
A shadow fell over the table and Rodney looked up to see Ronon, his
tray overloaded as usual before he sat down opposite Rodney.
“By all means, why don’t you sit down,” Rodney said sarcastically,
and got a blank look from Ronon as he started eating. Rodney was,
as always, fascinated that there was someone who seemed to relish
food even more than Rodney did. Ronon didn’t eat food--he inhaled
“You going to eat that?” Ronon pointed at Rodney’s pudding.
Rodney thought about protesting that he, who had a much more delicate
digestive system, needed the food more than Ronon, whose body – quite
apparently – worked fine. Instead he sighed and pushed the pudding
Ronon gave him a look before dragging the bowl toward him. “What’s
wrong with you?”
Rodney frowned a little at him. “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve
got my memories, my quarters, my clothes, and most importantly my
lab back, so there’s no reason for me to be anything but. Fine, that
Ronon started eating the chocolate pudding, not taking his eyes off
“Yes, it is,” Rodney agreed, wondering what was going on.
Ronon scooped up an enormous spoonful of pudding, and how was it
even possible to fit all that mass onto that small spoon? “So, what’s
wrong with you?” Ronon repeated, slurping up the pudding that defied
“By saying I’m fine, I think that means I’m fine.” Something began
niggling in the back of Rodney’s mind. “You’re awfully curious.”
Ronon shrugged, looking down at the pudding. “Just checking. You’re
part of my team.”
“Yes, but we’ve been on the same team for a while now and you’ve
never checked up on me before.”
If this was anyone other than Ronon, Rodney would say that he was
squirming. Rodney just hadn’t thought that a giant who could kill
people with his pinkie could squirm. His eyes narrowed. “Teyla put
you up to this, didn’t she?”
Ronon blinked, looking a little sulky. “Yeah.”
“Well, that’s very sweet,” Rodney said with minimal sharpness in
his voice, because it really was kind of nice.
“She said the two of you would be all weird now that you’ve had sex,”
and Ronon’s voice sounded about ten times louder than it normally
“Will you keep it down?” Rodney said shrilly, looking around. Fortunately,
the mess hall was pretty much deserted this late in the day, and all
he got was a bored stare from one of the kitchen personnel. He leaned
toward Ronon so he could whisper. “What makes you so sure we had sex,
Ronon rolled his eyes. “You mean besides the fact that you two had
your tongues down each others’ throats when we found you?”
Rodney lifted his chin. “That doesn’t mean anything else happened.”
“No, but the way you two won’t look at each other does.”
Rodney narrowed his eyes at Ronon. “Since when did you become Dr.
Ronon looked a little confused, but he pushed on. “Look, Teyla and
I won’t say anything to anybody.”
Things were *clickclickclicking* into place in Rodney’s
head. “Teyla’s talking with Colonel Sheppard, isn’t she?”
Ronon scooped up the last of the pudding. “Yeah.”
“And she sent you to me.”
“Must be my outgoing personality,” Ronon said, deadpan.
“Yes, must be,” Rodney said absently, wondering if at some point
he’d stepped into an alternate universe where he got to have sex with
Colonel Sheppard and…bond with Ronon?
“Would it make you feel better to shoot something? You could borrow
Rodney stared at Ronon, eyes feeling a little itchy. “Sure, why not?”
Rodney’s newfound camaraderie with Ronon was dampened a little when
they arrived at the shooting range and the colonel was there, firing
at a target with single-minded intensity, not even noticing their
entrance. Rodney was sure it was an amazing coincidence for all of
“I, uh, just …” Ronon looked at Rodney. Rodney raised his eyebrows
in encouragement. “I…forgot something?” Ronon said finally.
Rodney gave him a beaming smile. Yes, this bonding thing kicked ass.
“Fix this,” Ronon rumbled quietly. “Sheppard is hopeless to spar
with when he’s like this.”
Rodney nodded; Ronon was doing this for Sheppard too. Fair enough.
If something led to sex, Rodney was pretty agreeable.
As Ronon left, Rodney looked over at Sheppard, whose arm was hanging
down his side, gun still in a tight grip, regarding Rodney with a
slightly panicked expression.
“I, uh, just,” he said, and Rodney got a strong feeling of déjà
He frowned in annoyance as he took a couple of steps closer. “What,
you forgot something?”
The colonel nodded, relieved. “Yes.”
“Pressing business, I’m sure.”
Sheppard smiled nervously at him as he started walking backward,
circling Rodney awkwardly. “Exactly. I’m glad you understand.”
“Oh, for god’s sake,” Rodney snapped, but before he had a chance
to stop the colonel with a scathing remark about how he was the saddest
excuse for a hero *ever*, Sheppard spun around, slammed his hand against
the control panel next to the exit and walked--
--right into the door.
Rodney stared at the door. Then he stared at Sheppard who was staring
at it while holding his nose, a betrayed expression on his face. “Ow.”
Rodney didn’t even try to quell the sniggering.
The colonel glared at him. “This isn’t funny.”
“Oh, it is,” Rodney assured him, grinning.
“Will you get the door open?”
“Hmm,” Rodney said slowly, his face going thoughtful, “let me think
about that for a moment.”
The colonel sighed and dropped his hand from his face. “No?”
Rodney smiled smugly. “No.”
“Hello?” the colonel said loudly, banging on the door. “Can anyone
“The corridors were pretty much deserted when we came here, Colonel.
You know,” he added absently, “now that I think about it that was
Sheppard’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “This is all your doing. First
Teyla talking to me about the birds and the bees,” he broke off, swallowing,
before continuing, “and now this.”
“Yes. You got me. With one of my many superpowers, I brain-washed
Teyla, emptied the corridors, hypnotized Ronon and locked the doors.”
The colonel looked unconvinced, which Rodney found both flattering
and insulting. “The door just happened to lock itself as I was trying
Sheppard’s mouth tightened. “Running isn’t the word I would use.”
“Making a tactical retreat.”
Rodney nodded. “Slinking.”
The colonel let out an annoyed burst of air. “Look, we were both
kind of drunk, the aliens probably made us do it, there were drugs…I
say we just,” he waved his gun around a bit, making Rodney nervous,
“move on and forget about it.”
Rodney shot him a scathing look, to cover up how much the colonel’s
words…well, hurt. “Forgetting, how appropriate.”
Sheppard opened his mouth to reply, then froze. He tilted his head
a little and turned towards the door. “Hello? Is there someone there?”
There was no answer. Rodney was just about to say something disdainful
about the colonel’s hearing when someone on the other side of the
door cleared his throat awkwardly. “I, uh, was just on my way to…the
control room.” Ronon. Wow. Rodney hadn’t actually known there were
people who were worse liars than him. It wasn’t so much the fact that
the control room was in an entirely different section of the city
as much as the obvious guilt in Ronon’s voice. He and Ronon had more
in common than Rodney could ever have imagined. “I’ll catch you guys
later,” Ronon said more loudly, interrupting Rodney’s thoughts.
“No, wait!” Sheppard yelled, but it was too late, even Rodney could
hear Ronon’s quickly retreating steps. The colonel frowned and pointed
at Rodney. “I’m still convinced you’re behind all this. I just don’t
know how. Or why.”
Rodney stared at him. How could Sheppard be so, so…clueless? Did
he actually have no idea that Rodney dreamed about doing...things
to Sheppard’s body? That Rodney wanted more than nice amnesiac memories?
“You know what, forget this,” Rodney said. He'd had enough.
He stalked forward, grabbed Sheppard’s face and kissed him hard.
The colonel froze for a moment and Rodney did too, because this was
it--this was the thing that would make John shove him away and look
at Rodney with repulsion, because they *had* been kind of drunk, there
had been drugs, the aliens were 99.9% involved in making them have
sex because they were aliens, and making their would-be allies have
sex would be a relatively normal thing to do compared to the other
alien nutcases in Pegasus. Plus, there was the fact that Sheppard
kept trying to run away from Rodney, which might be an indication
that sex wasn’t actually something he was interested in having again,
at least not with Rodney, and--
Sheppard grabbed Rodney face roughly. Rodney met him halfway and
then he pushed Sheppard against the door, eagerly helping out as John
shoved his tongue down Rodney’s throat.
This wasn’t exactly how he’d pictured his confrontation with John.
In his mind, there’d been arguing, lots of it, followed by Sheppard
admitting that Rodney was right and that he’d been incredibly stupid
not to see that at once. This would be followed by them hurrying to
whichever quarters were closer, and John would then give Rodney a
blowjob to apologize for being a moron. Ideally, he’d also shyly confess
that he had a huge crush on Rodney and the heterosexual freak-out
had been sprinkled with some insecurity on his worthiness to be Rodney’s
He hadn’t imagined John’s hand on his belly, burning hot through
the fabric of his shirt before fumbling Rodney’s pants open, kissing
him almost desperately, tasting of coffee and need. He hadn’t thought
that John’s hand working his cock hard and frantically would feel
so fantastic; he shivered as the calluses on John’s hand dragged hard
across that sensitive spot just underneath the head of his dick, over
and over and god yes as John squeezed him. Moaning into John’s mouth,
he started unbuckling his belt, trying not to interrupt John’s rhythmic
pulls. He was breathing quickly through his nose, because no way was
he going to stop sucking on John’s tongue long enough to draw a breath.
It was amazing and hot and mind blowing and wrong wrong wrong; he
wanted this, he wanted John, but even this, with the touching and
the kissing, wasn't enough. He wanted John to gasp out Rodney’s name,
to look at Rodney as he came, to know who he was with. He kissed John
sloppy, hard, biting at his lips, making John groan, and Rodney finally
managed to push his hand down John’s boxers. John’s dick was scorching
hot, smooth and a little wet in his hand.
John’s hips twitched helplessly as Rodney slowly squeezed him, pulling
him out of his pants.
Rodney was about ten seconds away from coming, probably less considering
the way John was pumping him, but he wouldn’t, couldn’t, rush. He
squeezed John hard and slow, and John pulled back from Rodney’s mouth,
head falling back, eyes closing, mouth open as his grip on Rodney
“Look at me,” Rodney whispered, his voice almost pleading.
John licked his slick lips, his eyes opening slowly, pupils huge
as he drew in a sharp breath at the same time as his dick twitched
in Rodney’s grip. Their eyes met and Rodney felt a rush of heat that
had nothing to do with touch. Then John started shooting over Rodney’s
pants, on their hands, all over Rodney’s dick. Rodney stared down,
panting, and grabbed John’s hand, guiding him, making him squeeze
Rodney harder. John made a whimpering noise and pulled a few times
at Rodney’s dick, hard and sloppy, and that was it, Rodney’s entire
world was centered under John’s clasp, where John was touching him,
where John was touching *him*.
They stood pressed together, leaning against each other and the wall.
Rodney’s heart was pounding too hard, too fast. It seemed fitting
that John could do that to him--that he was one of the things that
made Rodney’s heart pound faster than ever. John panted in Rodney’s
ear, but his breath was easing up a lot faster than Rodney’s. Rodney
didn’t want to stop panting, because that would mean stepping away--stepping
away, stepping back, stepping out into the real world again.
“See?” he said without heat. “The world doesn’t actually end if you
kiss someone without a vagina.”
John’s head fell back against the door again. “I’m so fucked.”
Rodney looked down at their sticky hands. “Well, yes.”
John shook his head. “I like my job. If you don’t count the Wraith,
I really like my job. I enjoy flying and bossing people around and
the rank kind of rocks.”
Rodney nodded in understanding. “I sympathize with at least thirty-three
point three percent of that.”
John swallowed. “But I like you,” he said quietly.
Rodney frowned. “Does it say somewhere that the two are mutually
exclusive?” John’s eyebrows rose and Rodney waved a sticky hand. “Okay,
sorry, my brain is a bit slower after mind-blowing orgasms. I’m not
asking and all that.” John’s lips quirked up in a smile. “I can do
discreet,” Rodney continued. “I really can. I can keep my mouth shut,
I can ogle women, I can avoid groping you in public.”
John let out a short laugh, surprised. “Rodney…”
“No no no, I really can,” Rodney said sincerely, because he could,
he so could, if it got him John.
“I believe you,” John said, smile fading. “I’m still fucked.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Rodney said cautiously, because
he understood that it could be a really bad thing. John looked at
him and Rodney realized that he was used to that look: fond, exasperated,
a little scared. “You’re not fucked,” he said quietly.
John’s eyebrows rose. “How do you figure?”
Rodney let out an annoyed breath. “I don’t, okay. You’re fucked,
I’m fucked, we’re all fucked. Happy?”
“Ecstatic,” John said dryly, but he touched Rodney’s face and smiled
and Rodney realized that that was the key right there. Give John some
really bad odds and he’d go straight for them. Call it stupid or call
it brave, but it had worked out pretty well for him so far, Rodney
had to admit.
"I just don't have sex with my best friends on alien planets
that often." John gave Rodney a focused look. "I don't wanna
screw this up."
"Oh," Rodney said. He was struck by a thought. "Wait--when
you say 'not that often,' does that mean you and Teyla--"
John snorted out a soft laugh and ducked his head briefly before
he pushed at Rodney’s shoulders and turned them around, pressing Rodney
against the door. "Okay, don’t be stupid, Rodney."
Rodney lifted his chin, but it was hard to look haughty when you’d
just had amazing sex--and it was looking more likely by the second
that he would have a lot more amazing sex in the future.
John grinned. "Teyla and I have sex all the time." Rodney's
eyes widened. John gave him a second before he kissed him, sweetly
and unhurriedly, slow licks into his mouth, his teeth gently tugging
at Rodney's lower lip. "Seriously," John whispered against
his mouth, "she just can't keep her hands off me. We do it everywhere,
the gym, my office, the briefing room..."
Rodney slid his hand into John's hair, licked a stripe of wet at
John's jaw before nuzzling his neck, and John shut up. "You're
so full of it," he told John's ear.
"Mmm," John said and Rodney smiled helplessly against his
skin, thinking that this might be a day worth remembering.