"you're stuck with me, rodney. just accept it."
♥ means it's really rather brilliant.
! means it's a new one on the list.
→ rodney mckay & john sheppard
fic a complicated friendship
But John looks like John again, inch by inch, skin scraped pink and smooth by Rodney’s ministrations. When the last of the stubble is gone, Rodney wets a washcloth, gently smoothes away remnants of the shaving foam. John’s eyes are still closed, and Rodney fumbles the wash cloth, drops it on the floor, seized as he is by the need to just...
"Done?" John whispers.
"I – well, just a..." And Rodney lifts his hand again, cups John’s jaw, drags his thumb across the cheek he’s bared. He doesn’t know what the hell’s got into him, but John’s pink and quiet and sitting on his bath tub and –
"Six months," John murmurs; his eyes are open, and he’s making no effort to push away Rodney’s hand.
♥ fic a farm in iowa
rating up to nc-17
comments if you ever want an sga au, it's this one. definitely one of the best ones out there! just utterly, utterly heartwarming.
"You alright?" John calls, closing the distance between them.
"Alright?" The driver's quivering with indignation or shock or something, his face an unnatural shade of pink "Do I seem like I'd be alright? My car is in a ditch! What sort of roads do you people have out here? Is this a trick? A lure? A test for people who don't know their way around your . . . your . . ." He gestures, as if to take in everything around them – the oak trees by the creek, the wide open fields, the farmhouse – and dismiss them all out of hand.
John quirks an eyebrow. "John Sheppard," he says, extending a mostly clean hand.
"Sheppard. Of course. How appropriate, with the rural, farming . . . " the driver's words fade into an exasperated sigh. "Dr Rodney McKay." He shakes John's hand and promptly wipes his palm down his own trousers, leaving a smear of oil behind.
♥ fic a supermarket in california
"You," he’s practically foaming at the mouth, hands moving in frenetic circles. "You can’t honestly – you’re not human. That must be it, you’re a robot. You are a robot programmed to run a convenience store and identify prime numbers. 648,950,441."
"Prime," John rolls his eyes at McKay’s spluttering protest, and has to fight a smile. "And would you like your receipt?"
After that, they fall into a pattern: Mckay comes in almost every night (and then, every night) for coffee and disgusting snack cakes ("Those have tons of trans fat in them, you know," John points out, and then McKay tells him to shut up, spraying bits of pink Sno-Ball on the counter) followed by a game of Prime, Not Prime. Sometimes, McKay walks in enraged, shouting about the stupid, stupid, idiot who nearly killed them all that day falling asleep next to a running experiment, and John lets him; sometimes he walks in humming and inordinately pleased with himself, and sees fit to remind John how much of a genius he, Dr. McKay, truly is.
♥ fic acidimia
John tries to shake his head free – can't help the instinct to get away, and his hands tug at the bindings that hold his arms by his sides. "Got a name?" he asks, and his lip stings, split and tender. "How 'bout I call you Jim?"
The Wraith growls at him, slams his head down against the unyielding surface John's tied to, and barks an order John barely understands. But he gets it in the next instant, when he feels a knife split his skin, cutting him open, too damn close to his spine. Every fiber of his being resists – his hands fist, his knuckles whiten, his muscles lock as he cries out in pain.
"An excellent runner," the Wraith says, amused, and John feels his voice shred and break as something cold and metal, alien and unwanted, is pushed past skin and muscle and bone to nestle in his back.
fic and i say, it's alright
Rodney never tells John that story, but one day, John does drag Rodney out onto one the city's more isolated balconies (even as Rodney's ever-so-kindly reminding him of how he doesn't have time for this sort of nonsense) to see the rainbow that hangs over one of the eastern spires. Rodney's pretty sure he manages to call John a teenage girl, but then John kisses him, and all Rodney notices is the slide of lips on lips, the rain running down the back of his neck, the sun warm on his face.
♥ fic the best-laid plans
comments not strictly mcshep, but i'm reccing this anyway because it's brilliant. think stargate atlantis and lord of the rings, and then think about rodney the reluctant hobbit. yes. i'm so tempted to quote the whole damn fic, okay. but. that would sort of take away the whole point of this post, so. but just, you know. read it, 'k?
He put the ring on, ignoring Gandalf's cry of horror. "Invisible? Ha!" He walked over to the mirror, and his voice briefly faltered. "Ah. Well. Granted… No! A hallucination! That's what it is. You… Yes! You put something in my tea. This isn't real. This isn't real. Wide open fields. Wide open fields. Wide open fields." He closed his eyes, and opened them again. "Or mirrors," he said, his voice growing higher. "It's a trick with mirrors. You charlatan magicians are all –"
"I am a wizard," said Gandalf, in a voice that would have chilled a lesser hobbit.
! ♥ fic bound by will
"I'm sorry you had to see it."
"No, I am. Because now you're going to hover and fuss and take this on your shoulders too, as if you haven't been storing up every accident and disaster since we got here, as if you don't brood over the whole fucked up store of what we've done wrong and own it, own it as if you could single-handedly make it right if you were just good enough."
John's trigger-finger twitches. "I just – "
"Save it, Sheppard."
John ducks his head, takes a deep, steadying breath. "Rodney." Silence spins out between them, tense and angry, and the impulse that speaks as a tremor in John's fingers makes his heart-rate skip, makes his breath skitter and jump. Easier if this were something he could fix with a gun.
"No." And John slides closer, flexes his fingers a couple of times, trying to wrap his head around what his body wants to do. "I'm – " He leans in awkwardly to press his chest against Rodney's back, to cover the tattoo with his body – rests his chin on Rodney's shoulder and slides his arms around his waist.
fic boys gone wild
comments it also has a remix version, boys gone wild (the roadtrip remix) and it's more rodney's pov than john's, so i'd recommend reading that one, too.
They meet at school – John wants a tutor for his Quantum Mechanics and Math Methods 2 class; it’s kind of a preemptive strike. He’s in the home stretch toward finally getting his Aerospace Engineering degree and he doesn’t want to leave anything to chance. When he asks his advisor, Dr. Graydon suggests Rodney McKay, a 19-year-old PhD candidate in need of some extra money.
At their first session, John can’t help but notice that Rodney is pretty cute; he looks younger than 19, with a cloud of golden blond hair that would be angelic, if not for Rodney’s fast-moving, sarcastic mouth. He quickly discovers that Rodney is arrogant, petty and bad with people but he also has the most brilliant mind John has ever encountered and John tries not to show how much of a turn-on that is.
fic but i'm a lieutenant colonel
comments this is delicious and so, so funny. oh my god, rodney's just fabulous in this one.
“Wait- let me get this right. You,” John points, “were never gay, and I was never gay, so you convinced all of Atlantis that I was secretly gay, got them to make me gay so you could grow gay for me?”
“Yes,” Rodney nods, “it's sort of romantic, isn't it?”
fic care in the holding
“Don’t ever do that to me again.” Rodney’s eyes are dark and haunted, and John leans forward and kisses him. Softer, gentler, because he doesn’t want this to be all about desperation. If they’re going to do this, he needs it to be more than that and Rodney seems to understand because the hand that cups John’s face is firm and tender, and Rodney’s eyes are open when he murmurs, “I really didn’t want to have to shoot Bates, but I was prepared to. If you didn’t come back.”
“I’ll always come back,” John whispers into his mouth. Their foreheads touch, and Rodney’s fingers are stroking the back of John’s neck with measured care, fear and worry giving way to exhaustion. They kiss, unhurried, and Rodney’s tongue slides over his lips just before they pull away.
fic catalysis for dummies (which dr. rodney most certainly is not)
comments okay okay this is so beyond precious i can't even tell you, but just the mere idea of john going around, wearing knee-high black [boots] with bright red soles, okay. so precious.
"You?" Rodney wrinkled his nose. "How do you do anything but slow me down?"
"Aw, c'mon, Doc," John said, holding out the correct beaker, filled to precisely the right mark. "I hand you stuff! If it weren't for me, you'd have to go all the way over to the cabinet and back on your own. And that would take you an awful lot longer, wouldn't it?"
Rodney took the beaker with a roll of his eyes. "Fine. You're my very own catalyst. Now are we going to set this thing off, or what?"
This time the kids were cheering before John even got his arms in the air.
! ♥ fic compass points
A brush of lips against his shoulder. "It never occurs to me you might only be winded. Isn't that strange?" Rodney whispers, sounding strangely formal for all that they're tangled and spent. "Were I to regard the statistical sample I've gathered in the past several years, were reason anything I'm able to marshal at moments like today's little contretemps, then I'd know that all you need is moment to reacquaint your lungs with their proper function and that no matter how much discomfort your bronchioles are experiencing, you're fine, fine, scrambling to your feet and looking for a fight, but it never, ever occurs to me."
John keeps his eyes closed. It's not the first time Rodney's whispered a secret to the sheets. He never betrays that he's awake.
"So if you could, maybe, possibly, limit yourself to oh, I don't know, a dozen such incidents a year, I'd be grateful." Rodney tugs at the blankets, rubs his cheek against his pillow and surrenders to a yawn. "Grateful," he mumbles, and shifts to get comfortable. He settles on his back, as he almost always does these days, knuckles resting intimately at the very base of John's long spine
fic department of lost and found: one equation
comments tag to 4.19, and it's absolutely wonderful in its gentleness, the ache that we don't necessarily get to see in the show.
John ducks his head as he reaches for the blanket that's on the floor, as he shakes it out over them and eases himself back into the space he's carved with the weight of his body, a permanent home scrabbled into the arc of Rodney's ribs. "Yeah. Yeah I . . . yeah."
And Rodney turns on his side, closes his eyes as he fits John against him better, more comfortably, a snick of key and lock that'll take some time to learn. The ache's still inside him, some zero-point energy or another crafted from folded loss, but numbers flow through his mind as John shifts closer, relaxes, goes heavy beside him, smelling familiar and old. "I think I might," Rodney breathes into John's hair. "I think."
And John traces infinity across the small of Rodney's back, a soothing figure-eight that's lost its razor bite.
! fic doggedly
author sardonicsmiley & jadesfire & hyperfocused & anchiseswrites
John’s tail starts wagging, and he barks just once, and then he’s bounding across to Rodney. Rodney gets bowled onto his back, John pushing one big paw into his stomach and licking across Rodney’s face, enthusiastically and sloppily.
For a moment Rodney is too shocked to move. And then he croons, half-laughing, “Oh, good boy, good John, don’t bite me,” reaching up to rub at John’s furry head. He can feel John’s tail beating against his leg, smelly doggy breath in his face, and squirms around, “But you’re going to have to move, because you’re really heavy.”
fic the end of the world as we know it
John Sheppard lived in a small house by the end of the world, which is just a few miles to the south of the left end of the rainbow. It was a solitary life, the house surrounded by nothing but long grass and wild flowers and a few trees in the distance… and, of course, the sheer cliff dropping straight down into infinity about fifteen feet from the back door. A small spring splashed into being some hundred yards below the cliff's edge, its water as wondrous and magical as you'd expect from something emanating from the end of the world. Every now and then, John would climb down, managing the sheer rock with only his hands and feet, to give the water to those who needed it, if he deemed their cause a worthy one.
fic the epic tale of rodney & john, two girl scout cookies in love
comments the pictures, okay. that is all. (also, cookie porn.)
Rodney was really far too busy to waste his time on an air-headed, wafer-thin, minty bimbo. Yet, for some indiscernible reason, the Thin Mint seemed set on spending all his time with Rodney.
! ♥ fic equinox
"Drunk!" says Sheppard. "And lost," he adds, sounding sad and confused. "The flowers are talking to me."
"Hold on. Stay right where you are."
"But I don't know where I am!" Sheppard wails.
♥ fic face value
comments due to an unfortunate incident with an ancient device, rodney can read minds. except, oh, not sheppard's. and stuff. oh, this is just precious, it is. the bit in part two when john transmits to rodney how it feels to sit in the chair, oh oh oh.
They confirmed that they could communicate across a distance of several miles before it sputtered out, and then reconvened at Rodney's lab. Sheppard scratched the back of his head and said, "You know, there's not really--"
"--a lot more we can do with this," Rodney agreed.
"Not so much, no. You'd think there would be," Sheppard said, and gestured to the door. "I should get back to those duty rotation assignments. So, uh, have fun? And, I don't know, don't let your new superpowers turn you into an evil cartoon villain."
"I'll try very hard," Rodney said. "Now please excuse me while I go practice my evil laugh."
fic five times rodney ran out of coffee
When the door to John's apartment buzzes the next afternoon, Rodney is pretty much the last person in the world he expects to see standing there.
"John," Rodney says, and John blinks and says, "How do you know my name's John?"
"The same way I knew you lived here," Rodney answers, and if he could wrap his brain around Rodney being right here, he might be able to pay a little more attention to the quality of Rodney's smile, bright and smug, nervous and eager.
♥ fic fly wishes to the sky
comments a brilliant au where john owns a kite shop and rodney's a college professor. and, just, okay, all i'll say is McKay grins at him over scraps of plastic. "Who needs wind? Are you a girl under your, your," he waves a hand at John's black t-shirt and jeans and seems at a loss for words, "thing? Wind is for wimps." and isn't that the most mckay thing ever in the history of mckay? yesyesyes. this fic has everything you ever wanted out of a rodneyjohn fic. everything. (except maybe the au part, but that's irrelevant.)
"Yes, Rodney. I'm hitting on you because your niece is so cute it reflects cuteness onto you," John deadpans in a whisper.
"Oh, haha, your sense of humor is pathetic," Rodney says. "And also, come here," he adds, reaching out and pulling John's mouth to his and giving him a searing kiss that leaves John feeling shaky. "There!" Rodney says when he breaks it off. "Sleep on that."
"Screw you, McKay," John laughs. "Screw you."
Rodney raises his eyebrow at John significantly, and John has to fight back something that feels damn close to a giggle.
John's still smiling when he gets home.
fic forever home
Ronon spots him first and breaks into the fiercest grin Rodney has ever seen. He pulls Rodney into a bear hug and won't let go; they cling like that, and if there are tears on Rodney's face, well, they're soaking into the leather of Ronon's vest.
"We thought we'd never see you again," Rodney manages.
"Should've known better." Ronon's voice is gruff.
Rodney hears footfalls, sandals skidding at a breakneck pace. Teyla cries out, and he knows it's John.
When he and Ronon finally let each other go, John and Teyla are embracing, foreheads pressed together. And yeah, okay, they're all crying.
And Rodney has to hug Teyla, and Ronon lifts John off the ground. The Marines just stand there, grinning like idiots.
♥ fic the hard prayer
"My God, we're both complete basket cases, aren't we?" McKay contemplates his beer. "We should form a species extinction support group."
John waves at him from his side of the table. "Hi, I'm John and I survived the apocalypse." McKay barks out a dry, humorless laugh.
They're on their third beer each when McKay says suddenly, "I may not have the world's most acute people skills, but I'm smart, and that makes up for a certain amount, so don't think I couldn't see what was going through your head this afternoon." He regards John steadily, his gaze penetrating. "You're not him, you know. You didn't give up."
You're wrong, John wants to tell McKay, but even with a couple of beers in him, he's nowhere near being able to say that.
fic heart arrhythmia
Rodney stared up at him from the bed, at the whole… John-ness of him. Dark clothes, messy hair, long torso, short legs… the pale skin around his right wrist, the dark hair on his arms… the way he stood utterly still when Rodney would be wringing his hands. Forty-one years old, military commander of humanity's remotest outpost, superficially attractive and completely messed up on the inside. John.
He sighed. "Do you need me to tell you how you'll always be my first choice?"
John's lips twitched as he shifted his weight. "Nah. That'd be cheesy."
♥ fic high stakes
comments this is the fic to read if you love terry pratchett's discworld series. the crossover of all crossovers, okay.
John just looked at the other man, who in the cramped small-town tavern stuck out like a sore thumb with his black robe and pointy hat, and raised one of his brows. Rodney rolled his eyes. "Rodney McKay. Do I get your name, or would that obliterate the baffling veil of mystery you shroud yourself in?"
"Can't you read it in your cabbage soup?"
"The only thing I can read in this cabbage soup is heavy indigestion somewhere in my near future."
"Well, what kind of a witch are you, if you can't even find out something as simple as a name?"
Rodney stared at him, a strange gleam in his eyes.
"The kind that doesn't like cheating."
! ♥ fic how to beat a polygraph and have clean feet
author argosy & hyperfocused & darkmoore & perspi
"Good news?" He could hear his voice go squeaky. On the other side of the bars--the free side--Sheppard winced. It was strangely satisfying. "Good news? You may not have noticed, but I'm about to be burned as a witch. A witch, Sheppard."
"See, now I can do something about that."
"Never mind that if I were a witch I would hop on my broomstick and get the hell out of here, maybe turn a few Deyans into frogs on my way out. You fix one Ancient power grid, and suddenly it's seventeenth-century Salem--which is an era of your history I had no desire to visit, thank you very much. The Deyans should be grateful for the light and running water. Instead they want to burn me."
"They didn't burn witches in Salem."
"No burning in Salem. They hung the witches there."
"Uh, no they didn't. Because guess what? They weren't witches and neither am I!"
"Do not tell me to breathe. I will breathe if and when--Oh. Oh God." Rodney's knees suddenly felt weak. He leaned against the cell wall. "Tell me they don't want to do a trial by drowning. I float, Sheppard. I can't help it! I was Fort McMurray Elementary's swimming champion three years in a row."
! fic if it must break
The first time you really wanted to kiss him was right before you threw him off the balcony. The almost manic smile on his face, the honest to God twinkle in his eye as he issued your instructions, it was all so out of place and hilarious and perfect. When you stepped close, near enough to smell his skin, it made you want to press against him and kiss him and kiss him, until you both gasped for breath, lightheaded and reveling in that shared excitement.
Instead, you only smiled, wrapped an arm around his thigh and hauled him over the rail.
John, on the other hand, was rapidly becoming Atlantis' 'It's Okay If You're Gay' posterboy, having mastered the cheesy grin and model's pose long ago, and making up for lost time with the gay bit.
♥ fic intersections
comments oh, the way in which i love this fic. so much. it has this sense of humour that's utterly spot on for both rodney and john, and still it's so heartwarming and real and so very, very beautiful. i'm just so in love with this fic it's not even funny.
Up top, the wind dies down suddenly and miraculously. Rodney wipes his sleeve over his face. "I'm dead. But I'm in so much pain, I haven't realised it yet. You seriously do this for fun?"
John points wordlessly beyond the edge.
"Oh," Rodney says. He walks to where the ground ends in a sharp drop. "Oh wow." He turns a slow, wondering circle, staring out at McMurdo, Mt Erebus, Scott Base, and the white nothingness of the Ross Ice Shelf. White Island, Black Island. John's runway. Nothingness. More nothingness. McMurdo again. Mt Erebus.
"You should see it at dawn," John says. He knows he's smiling dopily. He doesn't care.
"Holy shit." Rodney laughs and shakes his head. "We're in Antarctica! God, we're in Antarctica!"
John smiles wider. He closes his eyes and tips his head back. The air feels like sandpaper. His fingertips ache with the cold. He loves this place. He thinks if he died here, he'd die happy.
fic john sheppard's guide to surviving project runway
"YES!" John hears Rodney yell from a distance, and the next thing he knows his head is meeting the runway floor because McKay, having taken leave of his senses, has jumped on him, and they're both in a heap, laughing like maniacs, fingers still entwined while Nina points and stares. "We're going to Bryant Park!" Rodney crows in the nanosecond before he kisses John right on the mouth, and John figures they can edit this out or show it and improve the ratings, either way, he doesn't care – just wraps his arms around Rodney's back, kisses him with every ounce of excitement and adrenaline and fractured, warm fatigue he has, breaking the kiss to laugh once he hears Ronon's appreciative snort; looks up to see Teyla beaming at them both as if she quite approves, and both Ronon and Tim looking ravished as if there have been shenanigans backstage.
"Bryant Park!" John says, and rolls onto all fours, gets up and pulls Rodney with him. "Team!"
And they pile on each other, hooting and laughing and carrying on like no finalists have ever done before - the secret being that they've already won.
fic just breathe (the artifact of vision remix)
comments misunderstandings, both boys pining, that sort of thing.
John's shirt was icy wet against his hands, and right, he was supposed to turn John's head to the side first. A trickle of water ran out of John's mouth, and for a blinding moment Rodney tried to remember if he was supposed to try the Heimlich maneuver or absolutely not supposed to, but it was too late and John was going to die if he didn't do something, God, anything right now, and oh, John's lips were icy against his and at least he'd remembered to straighten John's head and pinch his nose shut.
! fic the king of honey blossoms
He was shaking his head, but just stared at the bumps, disbelieving. John reached out, sliding a hand behind his neck, fingers playing lightly at his hairline, but it was so intense, white-hot against his tender skin. Rodney held back the whimper, just barely, and though his cock was yelling at him hey, still interested, a lifetime of fruit-fear had established a strong grip on his psyche, and he stepped back out of John's reach with a half-smile he hoped would translate as "I'm sorry." John quickly pulled both his hands back, holding them up and away from Rodney's splotched self.
"No, that's okay, Carson. I'm hardly become an invalid in the twenty minutes since the alien plant sneezed on me. I'll head that way now, and if you would be so kind as to find me a private room, there'll be a generous tip in it for you."
♥ fic the knights of the pegasus galaxy vs. the chicken pox
comments kid!fic! actually, a kind of sequel to what happens in the clubhouse.
It was Rodney, swiping at his tear-streaked face and clutching his pillow. His chin was in the air, a reasonable facsimile of defiance, but his lower lip was trembling.
Whether you were five years old or thirty-five, a guy only showed up at your door holding his pillow for one reason, so John stepped aside to let him in.
Rodney’s bare feet made squeaky noises against the floor as he darted into the room. He’d spurned Athosian pajamas in favor of sleeping in one of his old T-shirts, which came down past his knees. It was probably comforting for him in some way, so John squashed the urge to mention it looked a lot like a dress.
“Bad dream?” John asked as Rodney squeaked his way over to the bed. He nodded as he wiggled his way under the blankets, but didn’t elaborate. John climbed in next to him and pulled the covers up. “Want to talk about it?”
Rodney shook his head, hiccupping wetly as he scooted closer to share John’s pillow. He was still holding his own pillow to his chest like a teddy bear, and didn’t look prepared to let go anytime soon. John wasn’t fooled by his silence, though. There wasn’t anything Rodney didn’t want to talk about at length, especially concerning himself.
! ♥ fic lie beside the sea
Sensation spirals out from where Rodney touches him, tendrils of heat and want blooming across his skin like the creeping luunyll vines that climb the walls of their house. John can hear the shush of the sea, the trilling of something like tree frogs; he can hear the creak of the bed, the wet suck of Rodney's mouth against his body, his own harsh breaths.
John closes his eyes and opens them as Rodney takes him apart; he holds on. There are a million stars over Rodney's shoulder, and John can't imagine that he was supposed to end up anywhere in the whole unbounded universe but here.
fic lieutenant colonel slouch-pants
comments does anyone require more convincing than just the title? i thought not. also, johnbelly.
"You like my belly?"
The flush on John's cheeks deepened. "Maybe."
Rodney pushed himself up on his elbows. "That's what this has been about? You like my belly? You want me to like your belly?"
John ducked his head and rubbed his thumb over the jut of Rodney's hip. "It's soft."
"Oh my god – "
"I can nap on it," John explained.
" – you're possessed."
"When you shiver..."
Rodney felt his expression soften. "You could've just said. Weeks. Weeks you've been carrying on as if your spine was melting, caving under the pressures – " he waved a hand " – I don't know, sciatica, pregnancy – "
"Pregnancy?" John looked up at him, disturbed.
! fic live without
comment this is a sad, sad little ficlet.
The casket was closed, of course, an American flag draped over it, and a framed portrait sat on top. It came into focus as he approached: John's very young face smiling at him, sly even then, his eyes bright beneath his uniform cap. Rodney didn't stop walking until he stood in the shade of the tent, nearly face to face with that boy who would be the man who would know him better than anyone.
! fic the maineland (wandering around lost)
"Oh, yes, I'm sure that's it," Rodney grumbled. He stood, tucking the device into his boot, and crossing his arms. John briefly hoped he hadn't looked quite that silly in the vest-tunic combo. "The mysterious Ancient device generously gave me time to run and fetch a friend before whisking us away to… oh." He stopped then, his face going blank as their situation finally seemed to dawn on him. "Where… ever we are. Huh. Where are we? And oh, God, why are you wearing a kilt?"
The look of pure shock on Rodney's face would have been comical had he not been staring quite so intently at John's bare legs. John gathered the material in his fist, pulling it tight around him. Ok, so, a kilt, he thought, the manly garment of choice for manly Scottish warriors. Sadly, John found it less than comforting. "I don't know where we are, but I get the feeling we're not in Atlantis anymore, Toto. And I'm feeling a little exposed here, so -- "
Rodney's eyes immediately turned upwards, as though he had developed a keen interest in migrating bird patterns. "I swear, Colonel, I didn't see anything --"
"I meant we're exposed in this field, McKay!" John gestured broadly with his free hand. "It feels like we're being watched, and I would like to find someplace less out in the open to figure things out."
"Oh," Rodney said, eyes darting around the wide field suspiciously. "Right. Yes."
♥ fic nantucket au
author dogeared (+ others)
rating up to nc-17
John's house is uncluttered and open and welcoming in a way that Rodney's rental cottage, with its overdone sailboat motif, isn't. He feels something in himself unwinding, and he wonders if it's John's laid-back influence on the place or the other way around, because it's easy to relax here, to be calm and quiet and spend an afternoon on the wide, comfortable couch just watching the way the afternoon light plays over the floorboards, the way the curtains billow in the sea breeze, shadows shifting over smooth stones lined up on a windowsill.
♥ fic no light and transient cause
comments oh hell, who am i kidding? just read everything by this author, okay. (just. ronon! kissing the top of john's head! flailing here, okay, mmh, teamlove!)
"I don't want to," Rodney said in a rush as John eased in beside him. "Go back to Earth, I mean."
John blew out a breath, leaving as much space between them as humanly possible. There was only so much a man could handle in the space of twenty-four hours, and considering everything, John felt it best to consider himself some nineteenth-century prude, ready to explode at the merest hint of Rodney's ankle. "Why not?" he asked carefully.
"Why not?" Rodney repeated. "Because – because this is home now. Because this is where I fit, where I'm useful."
"You're always gonna be useful, Rodney."
Rodney snorted. "In locations entirely covered with snow, yes; with whiteboards and algorithms and completely inanimate objects, sure. Here I'm . . . here I've got . . ." His voice trailed off.
John tried to ignore the discomfort building inside his own chest. "Family," he offered.
"Exactly." Rodney sounded put out, churlish, as if he were annoyed that he'd had to claim the word. "I mean, if we went back to Earth, I'd never see Teyla again. Never see Ronon. I'm not even sure I'd see you very often, and that would – "
There was an audible click as Rodney shut his mouth. John turned his head. "And that would what?"
"Be. Uh. Unfortunate," Rodney finished.
! ♥ fic no parachute
comments one of the reasons why i love this so damn much is because it's a missing scene from 1.15, before i sleep, and i adore that episode beyond belief. also, it is so, so beautiful it hurts, oh gosh.
Old Elizabeth’s gaze slants over in the direction of Sheppard’s frustrated silence and Rodney automatically follows it. Sheppard is frowning in concentration at the book – Rodney does a quick visual assessment and calculates that he can’t possibly be further than the fifth page – and is nowhere near as oblivious as he pretends to be. Usually the man is maddeningly aware, aware in ways Rodney’s just beginning to figure out and know are dangerous.
“Take a picture; it’ll last longer,” Sheppard drawls irritably, not even looking up, and flips to the next page like he’s proving a point.
“Wouldn’t want to break the camera,” Rodney tells him.
Sheppard snorts, wordless concession to Rodney’s comeback.
“Always bickering,” Old Elizabeth sighs, but she doesn’t sound annoyed. Sort of... a fond exasperation, a warmth Rodney hadn’t expected.
Rodney almost snaps back that he and Sheppard most certainly do not bicker – or if they do, then not all the time – but then he realizes Old Elizabeth is talking about her Sheppard and Rodney, the Rodney who died with Atlantis.
author kat reitz & tzigane
John thought about it, and he knew, really knew, what his answer was even before he bothered to voice it. "Okay." Okay because... well, he didn't know. That would involve thinking about feelings, and he kind of sucked at those.
They could work on them later, or not. Whatever. John wasn't going to pitch a fit then, it could wait until he found Rodney's smelly socks under his sofa, because John had no doubt that boot-feet were a horrifying smell. "Just hear me -- wait. You... actually agreed, huh."
fic not in nevada
comments possibly one of the cutest fics out there.
John's helpless in the face of Rodney's determination and finds himself tucked between his sheets, clad only in his boxers, without really processing how it all occurs. He frowns, the blankets bunched in one hand right beneath his chin, feeling somewhat as though he's protecting his virtue – a particularly dumb thought considering Rodney's obliterated what virtue he brought to Pegasus with practically every part of his anatomy. "Rodneeeeey."
"Quiet now." Rodney wanders back from the bathroom with a washcloth in his hand, folding it in half. He lays it on John's forehead and it feels so good that John's toes curl in traitorous delight. "Idiot," Rodney murmurs. He pries John's fingers from the blankets and tucks them against his chest, patting the covers back into shape around John's shoulders. "I'm going to see Carson and get you painkillers. Move and I will dismember you with the help of specially constructed laser-shooting robots."
"Robots 'n' lasers would be cool," John mumbles, but Rodney's already gone.
fic not really all that random
comments tag to 4.13 quarantine, so spoilers!
Sheppard's face went... wow, smug was actually a pretty good look on him. "You did. I used your password."
"My password? But you... how did you... I mean, I am dead certain that I never--"
"You did," Sheppard said. "Remember, that time when you were working under the console and needed me to reboot the chair?"
Right, he did remember that. "Oh, please. It's a fourteen-digit random string. And yes, okay, I realize you are not completely incompetent with numbers, but even a genius--"
"Newton, Einstein, McKay, and Adams?" Sheppard said. "Not really all that random, Rodney."
Oh, God. The wave that passed over him was a rush of warmth that was surprisingly close to lust. Well, no, not really, not anything like that, but Jesus, how was it possible that Sheppard got him?
fic once more with feeling
shh, John whispers. shh.
he is focused on everything he's feeling, focused like he hasn't been for months, and ZPM diagrams flood his mind just as the realization of who they are, what they are, what they are to each other tells him, shows him why they can't do this. ever. Colonel, he says. we can't.
John kisses him and his perceptions narrow down to the taste of his mouth, the shape of his lips, and his hand, speeding up with a slow sort of inevitability.
trust me, John says into his mouth. trust me.
! ♥ fic only can give (what you have)
author busaikko & aesc & darsynia & propinquitine
Time passes. There's no measuring it; heart beat won't work, as John's has been thudding all out of time since he'd first gotten the urge to start distracting Rodney with secret bits of himself, and the minor dehydration would throw off his usual resting rate, anyway. He briefly considers turning his bootlace into a pendulum, plotting out the equations in his head (2 pi * square root (length of his shoe lace/planet's gravitational force) = how many seconds it's been since he screwed everything up) before realizing that they took his boots, laces and all. Besides, that would require moving, and he's achieved an almost perfect stillness, on the off chance that Rodney will somehow develop the visual acuity of a T-Rex and forget he's sitting next to him.
Rodney's almost as still as he is, though every so often he taps his fingers where they're grasping his shins, as though he's typing on a keyboard. John wonders what combination of taps would be the equivalent of the Undo command, but decides Rodney would take it the wrong (right) way if John started tracing his fingers up and down Rodney's legs. So far, Rodney's made no move to shift away.
John's taking that as a good sign (ignoring the complete lack of anywhere else in their cell for Rodney to go), and won't do anything to jeopardize that.
Eventually, Rodney clears his throat. "So," he says. Out of the corner of his eye, John can see Rodney turning back to look at him. "You, ah, you care about me."
fic plain white tee (the three musketeers' remix)
comments a remix (i urge you to read the original story, too) and it's so cute. told through the eyes of rodney's white t-shirts, and oh gosh, oh gosh.
Hey, the dress shirt drawled, as we were getting all rucked up against each other between the bodies of our persons.
Hello, I managed, too delirious to from the pheromones in the air to wonder when clothing outside the science closets had learned the art of meaningful impressions. Then I felt John's fingertips trace alongside my side seams, and it felt like coming home. I wondered if Prodigal and Intrepid White had been this happy, had been wanted this much.
You should stay here, he likes you, the dress shirt commented, and I wasn't sure if he meant me or Rodney. It didn't really matter, and I didn't even mind when hours later, the bodies were being happy together and the dress shirt and I lay abandoned in a heap on the floor.
fic the price that life exacts
John stares at the knife for a second with glittery eyes, something hard and intense flashing in them briefly. He's sitting up in bed at this point for longer and longer intervals. Ronon scoots a chair close to the edge of the bed and leans a little way over John. "Cut out the brown one," he says, indicating the mourning-beads braided into his hair.
John's eyebrows shoot up and he looks surprised. He reaches with a shaky hand and cuts the brown bead out, which Ronon lets fall to the bed cover.
"Now you, the purple one," Ronon says to Teyla.
She smiles a little and cuts it efficiently from Ronon's hair.
"You, the blue one," Ronon says to Rodney, and his hand barely trembles as he cuts it out.
"I'm not. Not good with saying stuff," John stutters, hands full of some type of leather braids. "I just wanted to thank you, for taking care of her, of me, to say--." He shakes his head. "So here." He thrusts his hand out and dumps a pile of braided wrist-circlets on the coffee table. "There's one for each of you. And Amelia. They made hers so it can expand as she grows. And I did one for Torren, with a yellow stone I found. If you want," he says, darting a glance at Teyla.
Sometimes John still surprises Rodney, and he's done it now. Because braided into each circlet, subtle yet there for the world to see, is one of Ronon's mourning-beads. He'd had no idea John kept them, let alone that he'd do something like this.
"There's something different about Amelia," John says. "It's why she trusted Rodney, and you." He nods at Teyla and Ronon. "When she wouldn't let anyone else hold her, when she was so alone and scared." John seems to be at the end of his capacity to speak, and he looks down, fingers worrying the leather of his own brown-beaded braid.
"She trusted us because you trust us," Teyla says. "John, this is not a new thought for Ronon and myself. We have understood this for a very long time."
"Oh," John says sheepishly. "Well. Yeah, of course."
"I will wear this proudly," Teyla says. "She is my family, as are you."
"As all of you are to me," John says softly. "If you want, that is, if you--"
"John," Ronon warns, fastening his own circlet and nodding at John meaningfully when he cinches it closed.
♥ fic primacy
comments oh my god. i love this fic to death. this is probably one of the most beautiful fics i've ever read. not quite a take on the events of the shrine, but definitely spoilery. it's brilliant - rodney's slow descent into forgetfulness, john's despair, and, just. oh gosh. oh, oh. i wish there were more fics like this.
Rodney is staring at his hand on John’s arm. He can’t seem to make himself let go. “I don’t…” he tries, and then, “I can’t…” And stops again because I’m afraid to go to sleep doesn’t quite roll off the tongue. Somehow, what comes out instead is:
“You know, you’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”
His mouth snaps shut again immediately and he feels his face flush with embarrassment. He wants to blame the parasite, his diminishing faculties, but it’s not like he ever had much verbal control even before his brain was being eaten by… He tries to remember the Latin name Biro gave it, but he can’t seem to.
“Rodney.” The strangled sound of his name makes him look up, and John’s face–
–God, Rodney’s never seen John look like that.
But John says, thickly: “Yeah, Rodney. Me too.”
"Where -" he croaks, swallows, looks away and mumbles almost inaudibly: "Where else was I gonna go? I haven't... I told you that."
And he did. He did say that, but at the time Rodney was too scared of losing himself to take it as anything other than friendly reassurance, John maybe as scared as he was, if not for all the same reasons.
But now Rodney remembers it. I'm not going anywhere. Earnest, soothing, terrified. Rodney remembers it, as clear as waking to himself in the shrine and the awful disappointment of discovering it was meant to be temporary.
“You were waiting for me.” He says it softly, like he’s trying not to spook a wild animal, like John might shy away. Of course, he might. Rodney feels like he should be holding his breath.
! ♥ fic realm of dryads
comments oh, goodness. i love this one, so, so much.
The tree stood apart, stood hunched, as if against a great wind. Its bark was thick, but in places worn away, as if it had been exposed to howling storms of sand or snow. In the center of the trunk was a wide, dark knot, and Rodney knew that if he reached inside, he could burrow deep, and uncover all its secrets.
But the voices around him were growing louder, and so Rodney did the only thing that was left to him: flung himself forward, feet flying over scraps of red and orange and gold: threw his arms around the heavy weight of wood, and held on.
And he said, "Sheppard, Sheppard"; pleading: "Sheppard. John."
fic swim shorts, barefooted, wild-haired
comments so lovely. just. mmmh. (i'd actually recommend almost any fic written by aesc.)
"Let's keep doing this," Rodney suggests, squinting up into the sun and the shadowy brilliance of John's face. He can't offer anything else, because he's only just now realized that this is huge, bigger than the book that's his life's work, than saving galaxies, even.
"Yeah," John says.
When he kisses Rodney, it's slow and hot and familiar, rough around the edges with John's stubble and smooth with his lips. It melts into John straddling him, his shirt riding up so Rodney can trace sweaty skin, sleek except where his fingers catch on the edges of scars. And all of that, John's steady, huffing breath the slow, meditative way he works his way into Rodney's mouth and underneath his skin... it's good, Rodney thinks, shifting to indicate John can press closer if he wants.
It's good, it's easy like tides, like the sun riding down to the horizon, or going zero to Warp 3.
♥ fic things to do in denver when you're dead
Something twitches in Sheppard's expression before he nails it down, and Rodney sighs and awkwardly raises a hand to pat his shoulder. But it's not enough—he knows that immediately; they both do—and so he slings his arm around Sheppard's neck and yanks him into the tightest hug of his life. Sheppard hugs him back so hard his ribs hurt, and Jesus, maybe it's just the last couple of days or the trauma of the whole last year, or maybe it's just that right now John Sheppard is the only part of Atlantis that he has, but Rodney can't let go of him.
It should be embarrassing, but it isn't. Sheppard doesn't let go, either.
Then it's like Sheppard reads his mind. "I want to go home."
"Yeah," Rodney says, and his chest hurts.
"I can't live here anymore. I'm not sure that I ever could."
"Yeah," Rodney says, and then Sheppard's pulling back, putting his hands on Rodney's shoulders and pushing them apart, and he's wearing an expression that Rodney's never seen before. It might be fear.
"What if they don't let me come back?" Sheppard asks in a barely-controlled voice.
fic the trouble with endothermia
"Of course," Sheppard said from behind him in his deadpan drawl, "I'm not sure anyone who names his dick 'Mr. Happy' can actually claim to have much virtue, but I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt."
Rodney spun back around. Sheppard was still leaning one shoulder against the bulkhead, his ankles crossed. "That was a euphemism!" Rodney sputtered. "It doesn't have a name. Well, okay, I had a girlfriend who called it 'Rodzilla' once, but we only dated for a week and she dumped me for a hockey player, so I really don't think that counts."
Sheppard's eyes crinkled up. "Rodzilla, huh? Well, I'll give her points for punnery, not so much for her taste in men."
"He had a mullet," Rodney said sadly, "and no teeth."
♥ fic ways to die in the pegasus galaxy
comments i think this was one of the first sga fics i read, and i just love it. so deliciously long, i could quote the whole thing, gosh. the whole thing, the dialogue, the voices are just spot on. i just love it.
"Rodney," John said, because if he had to listen to one more word he was going to throw something, "go to sleep."
The sudden silence was so complete that John could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. Oh. Right. He wasn't supposed to be awake, here.
"Rodney," John said again, because . . . okay, so now Rodney knew he knew. So what? It wasn't that big a deal. Really.
The mattress bounced suddenly as Rodney jerked to his feet. "Right, I'll just be, you know, going back to my own room now." Rodney's voice was tight and brittle and horrible. "I'm sorry I woke you. I don't know what I was thinking, I just—"
"Rodney," John said. "I don't care. Just . . . go to sleep, okay?"
♥ fic we'll always have sateda
comments Rodney tangled cold hands in his hair and kissed back. i just love this. so much.
In that moment, John abandoned all pretense of composure, of determination, and scrambled out the side emergency hatch and onto the slippery wing, almost skidding and falling off. He climbed off and raised a hand to brace himself against the wet metal siding of the 'jumper, less to maintain an image of cool and more to keep himself from falling down completely. Rodney ran from across the takeoff area, hair mussed, black coat flapping like a flag at his sides, small briefcase in one hand. In that moment, he looked as if he hadn't aged a day since their last night in Sateda. John found himself smiling, broader than he had smiled in a long time.
He manages to compose himself some by the time Rodney slowed to a halt in front of him, chest heaving with the strain of however far or fast he had been running. For a moment neither of them say anything, as John's pulse starts racing all over again. Then they both speak at once.
"I thought you'd have left already," Rodney says.
"I thought you weren't gonna come," John admits. Then they stare at each other, speechless again.
"I couldn't," John finally replies.
"I had to," Rodney whispers.
♥ fic what happens in the clubhouse
comments this is the most adorable kid!fic i have ever read, okay. ever.
Hot anger licked through John’s smaller frame – Johnny was the most annoying incarnation of his name ever, and Rodney knew it, and sure it usually ticked him off when McKay taunted him, but sort of in an indulgent, “you asshole,” kind of way, since John gave as good as he got, but the sudden compulsion to scream out, “I hate you,” and “poopy head,” scared the crap out of him. He took a deep breath. “All right. I think we’re a little more volatile like this—”
“You think?” Rodney snapped, hands clenched into tiny fists, pale eyes watery, mouth an unhappy, quivering, lopsided line. “I’m going to cry, Colonel. Cry! I never cry! This is all your fault!”