sgasesa_admin (sgasesa_admin) wrote in sga_santa,

Fic: One Christmas Night (McKay/Sheppard, NC-17)

Title: One Christmas Night
Author: brumeier
Recipients: rabidfan and outsideth3box
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay
Rating: E for Explicit
Word Count: 5,888
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, or anything related to the show.

Author's Notes: A little holiday AU for pinch hitters 3 and 5. Thank you so much for stepping up and making sure everyone got a fic!

Summary: A chance encounter in an airport and one very special Christmas Eve.

Rodney had clearly gone insane, it was the only reason he'd be stuck at the airport on Christmas Eve. He knew better than to travel during the holidays, but circumstances beyond his control had forced him on a plane bound for home at the absolute worst possible time. Naturally there was a storm in the Midwest and all flights had been canceled, including the connecting flight that he was supposed to be on.

The only saving grace was the Starbucks, which helped keep the sweet nectar of caffeine flowing through Rodney's veins. He secured a small table and settled in with his tablet; just because he was on vacation didn't mean he couldn't get some work done. He pulled out his cell phone and called his research assistant.

"Andres! Where are we on the ZedPM calculations?"

McKay, I'm at the Christmas party.

"Why?" Rodney moved his phone to the other ear and unlocked the tablet so he could link up with his system back at Area 51. "You should be working instead of drinking watered-down eggnog."

It's Christmas.

"I don't see what difference that makes. We have a deadline, or are you already too drunk to remember?"

We're shut down for the next three days, McKay. Enjoy your holiday.

Andres had the nerve to hang up on him. Rodney glared at his phone. He didn't understand the need to stop everything just because it was Christmas. As if the Goa'uld cared about stuff like that. Rodney'd been telling his staff for months that if they hoped to defeat their enemies they needed to start thinking like them. They had to be just as ruthless, just as focused. Did the SGC really think Anubis would cut them some slack so they could decorate trees and sing carols?

"This seat taken?"

Rodney looked up from his tablet, automatic denial dying on his lips. A tall, lean man stood in front of him, wearing an Air Force uniform and holding a Starbucks cup in one hand. He was handsome, with messy hair that couldn't possibly be regulation and full lips lifted in a smirk.

"Uh, no. Please sit." Rodney pulled his bag off the empty seat and the Airman slid into it, immediately assuming a slouchy sprawl.


They sat in amiable silence for a few minutes, the flyboy drinking what smelled like hot chocolate while Rodney pretended to be engrossed in the schematics on his tablet. In reality he was surreptitiously looking at the uniform jacket, which told Rodney his companion was a Major. And while he couldn't begin to decipher the different ribbons on his chest, he was sure he saw one indicating service in Afghanistan and another for aerial achievement.

"So where you headed?"

"What? Oh. Uh...Toronto. You?"

"Nellis Air Force Base. Just getting off leave." The guy held his hand out across the table. "John Sheppard."

"Rodney McKay. Doctor." Rodney flushed, feeling like an idiot.

"Nice to meet you, Doc," John said with a smirk. He glanced down at the tablet. "Engineer?"

Rodney tried to hide his surprise. He had a habit of assuming all flyboys were empty-headed adrenalin junkies, though he knew from personal experience that wasn't true. Well, not always. He thought about mentioning that he'd just come from Nevada himself but of course he couldn't talk about Area 51. And his work was classified, so he casually flipped the tablet back to the main screen.

"Good eye."

"Spending the holiday with family?" John asked. He fiddled with the lid on his cup.

Rodney scowled. "Family emergency, actually. My sister. It's...bad."

The other man looked instantly stricken. "Sorry. Is she ill?"

"Worse. Engaged."

John choked on his cocoa. "What?!"

"Engaged," Rodney repeated. "To an English major of dubious intelligence. Can you believe that? Jeannie's brilliant and she's going to waste it all on some hoser who doesn't deserve her."

He was still angry about it, enough to drop everything and hop on a plane to Toronto in the middle of winter. He had to talk some sense into his sister before it was too late and she squandered all her God-given brains on housewifery. John had no idea how serious it was, or else he wouldn't be chuckling.

"It's not funny," Rodney said sullenly.

"I'm sorry." John made a visible effort to get the grin off his face but he wasn't successful until Rodney asked his next question.

"And where were you? Doing wholesome, mid-Western family things, I suppose."

All the humor bled out of John's face and Rodney had the sinking feeling that he'd made a faux pas. Normally he didn't care about crap like that but John seemed nice enough, and there was something about his cowlicks that Rodney found strangely appealing. The hurt in John's eyes pricked at him.

"Never mind. Sorry. None of my business." He held his hands up in a placating gesture. "You know what? I'm just gonna go."

Rodney hastily shoved his tablet and phone back into the shoulder bag and stood up. He'd just have to find someplace else to kill time; maybe the business lounge. He shrugged apologetically at John and hurried off. Just like him, to say something idiotic and screw up the chance to spend time with some eye candy. Eye candy in a uniform, no less!

He walked purposefully through Concourse A, following the signs to the lounge. There were stranded travelers everywhere, some of them sleeping in the uncomfortable seats provided at each gate and others stretched right out on the floor. It was another reason to keep the caffeine coming - Rodney would never be able to sleep in the airport without doing serious damage to his neck or his back.

The lounge was packed, as he'd figured it would be. Christmas music was being piped in, Bing Crosby barely audible as he crooned White Christmas. Rodney stood in the doorway, assessing the room and trying to locate an empty seat in one of the more comfortable plush chairs.

"You didn't have to leave," John said over his shoulder. Rodney flinched, taken by surprise.

"Geez, what are you? An Air Force ninja?" He moved aside to let the man past, but John just leaned against the wall.

"You're pretty twitchy, Doc."

"Don't you have something else you could be doing?" Rodney countered, irritated. He didn't need to feel any more foolish than he already did.

"Like what? Helping dig out the runway?"

"I'm fairly certain you could be doing something more useful than bothering me." Rodney decided to abandon the lounge. There weren't any good seats empty and the music had switched to something country that he didn't much care for. He turned on his heel and walked away, and was both aggravated and secretly pleased when John fell into step with him.

"So you're Canadian?"

"What gave me away? The fact that I told you I'm going to Toronto?" Rodney finished off his coffee and tossed the empty cup in the nearest trash receptacle.

"Your accent, really."

"Huh. Not many Americans seem capable of making that distinction."

John grinned. "Well, I've watched a lot of Due South."

That stopped Rodney in his tracks, and he stared at John in disbelief. "I'm sorry, what? That show with the Mountie?"

"That's the one. Although he was a lot more polite than you."

"He also licked things. That was not an accurate representation of Canadian culture, just so you know. We're not all polite pantywaists that hang out at Tim Horton's and eat poutine and watch hockey." No need to mention that Tim Horton's was totally on his list of things to do in Toronto, mostly for a double-double and some tea biscuits.

John quirked an eyebrow at him. "What the hell is poutine?"

"French fries with gravy and cheese curds," Rodney answered promptly. He waited for John to make a disgusted face, and wasn't disappointed. "It's not as bad as it sounds. But I prefer ketchup chips."

"If you say so."

Rodney started walking again, ready to put that whole ridiculous conversation out of his mind. He hated Canadian stereotypes as much as Americans probably hated being considered brash, pompous windbags with more patriotism than sense.

"You're not a very friendly guy," John remarked, easily keeping pace with him.

"And yet you can't seem to leave me alone."

"It's Christmas."

There was something in John's tone that caught Rodney's attention. He sounded almost lonely, and maybe a little sad, and he wondered if the cause of that was the reason John had been on leave. Perhaps someone in his family had died, which made Rodney feel even worse about his earlier comment. And really, if he thought hanging around Rodney was a good time he was in really bad shape.

They came up to a bank of windows and Rodney paused there, leaning against the sill. There wasn't much to see, not with the way the snow was coming down, though the planes closest were easiest to make out. It didn't look like the storm was letting up anytime soon.

"Sorry you're missing Christmas with your sister," John said, as if it were somehow his fault.

"I don't really celebrate Christmas," Rodney said. "Trust me, I'd rather be in my lab working right now."

He was, in fact, itching to pull his tablet out and get some work done, but he couldn't do that with John dogging him around the airport.

"What do you have against Christmas?"

Rodney snorted. "Everything? Like the fact that it starts right after Halloween, and we're inundated with all things holly and jolly before it's even Thanksgiving. It's an excuse to spend money we can't afford on gifts that will be forgotten by the time Christmas rolls around next year. People write lengthy family newsletters that no-one else cares about, we're forced to endure tedious parties with co-workers, and we continually perpetuate a lie in order to get children to behave themselves for one month out of the year."

"Wow, you really are a Grinch." John boosted himself up on the wide window sill, long legs dangling.

"And I suppose you're Father Christmas."

"Well, I don't hate it. Where I'm usually stationed there's not much to be merry about." John rested his head against the window. "I'm actually kind of enjoying the snow, even though I'm stuck here."

Rodney could well imagine some of the places his new companion must have been. Sandy, dry, desert places most likely and yeah, it probably wasn't conducive for getting in the Christmas spirit.

"Are you really going to ruin your sister's Christmas?" John asked. "I know it's none of my business, but the more you tell her no the closer you're going to push them together."

"You're right, it's not your business," Rodney snapped. "And what is that, some kind of twisted reverse psychology? I'm not telling her it's okay to throw her life away."

He turned his gaze from his annoying companion and back out at the swirling snow. Before Rodney's parents had died they instilled in him the knowledge that intellect was everything. If you had a brain, you had to use it and not for any fanciful pursuits like art or writing. No, the McKays were destined for scientific brilliance. They'd pushed Rodney, especially, to make the most of his genius IQ and it was only fitting that he pushed Jeannie the same way.

"Have you met him? The fiancé?"

"No. Apparently they had some whirlwind romance or something, which is further proof that this is a colossal mistake." Something twisted inside Rodney when he remembered Jeannie gushing about Caleb over the phone. He'd never been that excited to have someone in his life, and maybe he was the tiniest bit jealous, but he had a much better idea than his sister did of how these things usually turned out.

John shifted on the sill, pulling one leg up and bending it to provide a shelf for his chin. "You don't believe in love at first sight?"

"No. It doesn't make sense." Rodney found himself staring at John's sock-clad ankle. "The logical thing is to take time getting to know someone. How can you decide to spend your life with someone based on such incomplete data?"

"It's love, Doc. Not science."

"Everything is science," Rodney countered.

John rolled his eyes. "Okay, Mr. Wizard. What about pheromones? Haven't you ever just seen someone and felt an instant attraction?"

"That's not science, that's biology. And attraction like that is what one night stands are made of, not lasting relationships."

"I've never heard someone be so analytical about love," John said sadly, like he actually pitied Rodney in some way. That only made Rodney bristle defensively.

"Are you in a relationship?"

"I was. One that was logical and made perfect sense on paper."

Rodney hadn't been expecting that, and he told himself he didn't care about the love life of a stranger. It didn't stop him from asking, though. "So what happened?"

"What happened was I used my leave to sign divorce papers."

He winced at the bitter tone in John's voice even as he tried to make sense of everything the man had been saying. "So, you were married but you didn't love her?"

John turned his face away, but Rodney could see his sad expression reflected in the window glass. "I did love her, just not the way she needed. I'm done being logical." There was longing in his voice, and now it was Rodney that was feeling pity.

"Life isn't like a romance novel, you know. You have a better chance of finding someone compatible if you give up on the idea of having all that passion. It doesn't last anyway." He'd seen it first hand, in the way his parents always sniped at each other. If there'd ever been love between them, it had died long before Rodney was even aware of such things.

"You know what I think?" John looked back around. "I think that it's possible to meet a complete stranger and feel an instant connection. And maybe it's physical to start with, but there's every chance that can deepen and turn into something completely unexpected."

He licked his lips and gave Rodney a blatant once-over that left him flushed and perhaps a bit more open to John's theory.

"Why...uh. Hmm. How do you know if there's more than just physical attraction?"

John shrugged. "You don't. But isn't it worth taking the time to find out?" His voice dropped down a whole octave and he somehow added a lusty growl to it that had Rodney casting around for the nearest restroom or ficus-covered alcove.

He was no stranger to random encounters in less than desirable places, but the idea of that turning into something meaningful was laughable, no matter how good John made it sound. Still, he almost never said no to sex - he was a healthy adult male, after all - and sex with a man in uniform hit squarely one of his long-held kinks.

John slid off the sill and smoothed out his dress pants. It was possible that Rodney only imagined John's hand lingering briefly over his own groin, but it was an incredible turn-on either way. He thought maybe he understood about John's doomed marriage now. Not so logical, then, if he married her knowing he preferred the company of other men.

Before he could expend any further thought on the subject Rodney found himself crowded up against the wall as John invaded his personal space, though he was very careful not to touch. His breath was warm on Rodney's face and the look in his eyes very clearly broadcast what he wanted to do next.

"Not here," he said. "Follow me."

John turned abruptly on his heel and walked off, leaving Rodney momentarily dazed. He shook his head to clear it and hurried to catch up. Obviously they couldn't just make out in the middle of the concourse, not with DADT still firmly in place. Not for the first time Rodney cursed the American government for outdated thinking and the ridiculous restrictions they put on their military personnel. It was one of the main reasons he'd never give up Canadian citizenship, no matter how good the work was down in the Lower 48.

He had no idea where John was leading him, unless he had special knowledge of a handy supply closet or something. "This isn't some kind of prank, is it?" he asked suspiciously.

"Why would I prank you?"

"It's been known to happen," Rodney muttered. John reached over and squeezed his arm, just a brief touch but the heat was palpable.

"Not a prank."

Rodney bit back the rest of his questions and followed John up the escalator to the customer service counter. Understanding dawned as he recalled reading something - or maybe he saw it online - about hospitality rooms that many airports were now offering. Just small rooms with a bed and little else, where weary travelers could take a quick nap. They were rented out by the hour, and suddenly that seemed a lot seedier than it would have otherwise.

He hung back while John made the arrangements, messing around with his phone so he wouldn't look suspicious. It wasn't as if John could make a reservation for the both of them. Rodney waited until John had completed his transaction and walked down the hall before following as nonchalantly as he knew how.

John's room was number twelve and it was little more than a closet. There was a day bed, a straight-backed chair, a wall-mounted lamp, and a flat screen TV showing flight information - everything was still red across the board.

"This is...uh...cozy." Rodney squeeze past John and dumped his bag on the chair.

"First hour is free for me. Military benefits." John actually blushed, like he was taking advantage of the system or something. Rodney firmly believed that active military should get as many perks as they could, given the kind of things they were asked to do - or not do, as the case may be - for their country.

The heat that had been between them earlier seemed to have cooled now that they had a bed at their disposal. Rodney sat on it, pleased with the firmness of the mattress, and then wondered what the hell he was supposed to say. John fidgeted by the closed door, looking equally unsure. Well, someone had to be in charge.

Rodney reached out and grabbed hold of John's wrist, tugging him the short distance to the bed. John came willingly enough, keeping still while Rodney unbuttoned his service jacket. The three buttons were quickly dealt with and the jacket opened to reveal the white dress shirt and dark blue tie. John shrugged off the jacket while Rodney went to work on the smaller shirt buttons, cursing when he found an undershirt instead of skin. Still, once he had the shirt gaping open he splayed his hands on John's abdomen, enjoying the heat and hard muscle there.

John made a little noise in the back of this throat and Rodney looked up to see that he had his eyes closed. He wondered how long it had been since John had been touched by another man. Was he faithful to his wife while they were married? He suspected the answer to that was yes.

Rodney pulled the undershirt out from the waistband of the dress pants, pleased to have skin at last. He slid his hands up underneath the shirt, encountering smooth skin and coarse chest hair. When he got to John's nipples he thumbed them lightly, drawing out another noise, and the lust was back like a shot straight to Rodney's groin. He attacked John's belt, fumbling the buckle free and barely taking time to unbutton and unzip before he was pushing them down John's hips.

White boxer briefs never looked so good, particularly the way they were very clearly outlining John's erection. Rodney saw no need to waste any more time. He leaned in, breathing in the scent of musky arousal, and mouthed John right through the cotton.

"Fuck," John hissed. He put his hands on Rodney's shoulders, gripping tightly but not trying to direct the action.

There were very many things that Rodney was skilled at. Most of them involved higher brain functions and algorithms and equations, but he was also quite good at giving blow jobs. And he enjoyed giving them, which he'd been told made a noticeable difference.

He peeled John's underwear down to his thighs, freeing his cock. He took a moment to admire it, cut and long, curving upward just slightly. Rodney stroked his hand down it, enjoying the heat and the silky skin, and the crinkle of pubic hair when he wrapped his hand around the base. He never understood men who shaved themselves bare, or "man-scaped." There was nothing like the contrast between a smooth shaft and coarse hair.

"Rodney," John pleaded.

"Hmmm," Rodney hummed, and in one smooth movement sucked him in as far as he could manage. He curled his other hand around John's hip, and felt the man trembling.

John tasted as good as he looked and as much as Rodney wanted to draw out the experience for both of them, he couldn't stop himself from eagerly licking and sucking until John's hips started jerking. The noises he made were pure porn, driving Rodney on. All too soon John stiffened and Rodney relished every pulse of his cock as he swallowed. He pulled off slowly, his tongue a gentle caress, and suddenly had his arms full of flyboy as John collapsed on top of him.

"Whoa." Rodney lay on his back, John a heavy weight on top of him. Their legs were an awkward tangle, thanks to John still having his pants around his ankles. It wasn't a good angle for Rodney's knees and he pushed John off.

"You're crushing me, you big lummox." There was no real heat behind Rodney's complaint, not when he was so painfully hard.

"Your mouth should be declared a lethal weapon," John mumbled.

"You're welcome," Rodney replied, smug. He helped John remove the remainder of his clothing, carefully folding everything and draping it over the back of the chair. When he turned back around there was a funny expression on John's face, something soft and a little amused.

"What're you doing?"

"I don't want your uniform getting too rumpled."


Rodney nodded, laying John's tie on top of the clothing pile. "There's probably nothing for the pants creases, but spending the night in the airport surely they won't expect you to be neatly pressed."

"Come here," John said softly.

"Give me a sec." Rodney hurriedly removed his own clothes, taking much less care with them. No-one would care if his shirt was wrinkled.

The heat in John's eyes as he gave Rodney's nude body a top-to-bottom visual scan was gratifying but Rodney didn't feel the need to let him linger. His cock was hard enough to cut glass and he needed some relief, he didn't care what kind.

He joined John on the small bed, moving himself up towards one end while John scootched down to the other. In short order he was draped across Rodney, warmer than any blanket, and in just the right position for reciprocity.

"I'm probably not as good at this as you," he said apologetically.

Rodney fisted his hands in the bedcovers to keep from touching John's crazy, cowlicked hair. "No-one is. It'll still be good." He rolled his hips, which made John chuckle.

All rational thought soon went out the window. John may not have been as technically skilled at giving blow jobs but he had an enthusiasm that more than made up for it. And unlike Rodney he could deep throat, which was amazing and hot and had Rodney thrusting into the wet heat of John's mouth before he could stop himself.

John made an appreciative noise and swallowed around Rodney's cock and that was all it took to tip him off the edge into completion. He came hard, John's weight across his hips the only thing keeping him from arching up off the bed. John continued to lave Rodney's softening cock until it became too sensitive and he pushed John away.

"Guh," Rodney said. His heart was still pounding as John wormed his way back to the head of the bed. It was a tight fight, and the only way they could get comfortable on the narrow bed was by lying on their sides, spooned up together. John curled up behind Rodney, one arm slung over his hip.

"I'll never understand people who don't like blowjobs." Rodney let his eyes drift closed, enjoying the feel of John rubbing lazy circles on his stomach with one hand. "That was damn good."

"Likewise," John murmured next to Rodney's ear. It sent shivers over the sensitive skin there.

As random sexual encounters went, it had been one of Rodney's better ones. Usually after the big finish there was a mad scramble for clothes and then both parties went about their business. He never imagined he'd be much for cuddling, but was kind of nice. Maybe that was what real relationships were like, and for the first time he thought maybe he wouldn't mind having one. Someday.

John snorted, loud and unexpectedly, and Rodney's eyes popped open. "What?"

"I was just thinking. You really are Canadian."

"What are you talking about?"

"You're just like the Mountie. You lick things too."

Rodney rolled his eyes even as his lips twitched into an almost-smile. "You have a juvenile sense of humor, which probably shouldn't come as such a surprise in a flyboy like you."

"It's all part of my charm."

"If that's what you have to tell yourself." Rodney knew he should get up, get dressed. There was no reason he should be so content to just lay there, snuggled up against a man he barely knew. Pheromones, that's all it was. John might have had illusions about deeper connections, but as soon as the runways were clear they'd both be boarding different planes and the chances of them running into each other again were slim to none.

"Thanks, Doc." John tightened his hold and nuzzled Rodney's neck.

"For what?"

"For not making me spend Christmas alone."

Rodney wanted to kiss him then, wanted to erase the little bit of vulnerability that lay between the words, but since John hadn't initiated any kissing he wasn't sure he should either. Some people were funny about that, though after you'd another man's cock in your mouth how much more intimate could it possibly be?

"Merry Christmas, John," he said instead.


Several Years Later

Rodney hated Antarctica. Sure, it had been fun at first exploring the Ancient outpost, and for a while he'd amused himself by pretending he was on Hoth, but he was tired of being cold all the time. He was thankful every day for the orange fleece pullover that Jeannie had given him when he told her he was going on a research mission to the frozen continent.

As if it wasn't hard enough digging through the Ancient database, which either didn't have an index or had one they couldn't figure out how to initiate, he also had to practically sit on Carson to get him to do anything useful. It had been disappointing in the extreme for Rodney to learn he didn't possess the Ancient gene that would have allowed him to interact with the Ancient equipment in a more useful manner. Worse, Carson was a natural gene carrier and he was terrified of everything, especially the Control Chair.

When Carson came on the run to report that some unknown helo pilot who hadn't even been read in to the Stargate program had sat in the chair and activated it, Rodney was nearly beside himself with the unfairness of it all. O'Neill had looked sheepish when he admitted he'd brought the airman in and then left him virtually unsupervised. They'd all gone running, though, to see this miracle of Ancient genetics. And Rodney felt everything inside him freeze up when he saw who it was.

John Sheppard, his long-ago one night stand. He gave no indication that he recognized Rodney, and he couldn't help feeling a little hurt. Not that he thought he was especially memorable, but they'd shared Christmas Eve blowjobs and that at least should have stuck in his mind.

Well, Rodney certainly wasn't going to make a scene. He looked right at John, eyes drinking in the messy hair and those hazel-green eyes, and got down to business.

"Major, think about where we are in the solar system."

Not only did John have the nerve to possess the ATA gene, he seemed to have it in spades. A holographic representation of the solar system immediately formed over all their heads and John looked quite overwhelmed and maybe even a little scared.

"Did I do that?"

Rodney barely heard him over the rush of white noise humming in his ears. He'd seen the predatory grin on Elizabeth's face. John would be offered a spot on the Atlantis expedition. He'd thought they'd never see each other again and soon they'd be embarking on what was possibly a one-way trip into the unknown and Rodney wasn't sure how he felt about that.

Everything happened pretty quickly after that. O'Neill and Elizabeth whisked John away to sign non-disclosure agreements and presumably to convince him that the best move for his career was going to another galaxy. Carson was more chipper than he'd been in weeks.

"It won't be just up to me, now, will it?" he asked with a grin. "Did you see that? He already has better control."

"Maybe if you stopped cowering every time we asked you to initialize something, you'd be better too," Rodney snapped back.

He trailed along after Jackson. They'd have to make some adjustments to the expedition if they were going to have such a powerful gene carrier with them. Colonel Sumner was going to have a fit when they told him he'd have a new member added to his team, someone he hadn't handpicked. Oh, well, it wasn't like it was Rodney's problem.

Three hours later he was summoned to O'Neill's base office, where he found John looking wrung out and a little shell-shocked. Rodney stood there awkwardly but tried not to let too much of his discomfort show in front of the General.

"McKay. Can you show Major Sheppard to the guest quarters? After he's had some down time you can take him to the lab and let him take all your Ancient toys for a test drive."

"With all due respect, I don't..."

"Thank you. That will be all." O'Neill dismissed him with an imperious nod, though he had a difficult time masking his smirk, and Rodney knew better than to press his luck. He had no idea why he'd been asked to deliver John to his room, something any military drone could do, but he knew better than to argue.

"Let's go, Major." Rodney strode out of the office, not caring if he was followed or not. He supposed it was too much to expect that someone like John - a ridiculously handsome pilot who could have anyone he wanted - would remember someone like Rodney, genius IQ or not.

"You been here long?" John asked, falling easily into step with Rodney just like he had at the airport that day.

"Just a few months."

That seemed to be the end of John's conversational gambits. They walked the rest of the way in silence, everyone they passed in the halls shooting them curious looks. Word of the super gene apparently traveled fast.

Rodney stopped in front of the door to one of the empty rooms. They were little more than cells, really, since the Ancient outpost wasn't designed for long-term residency. He hit the panel that slid the door open and gestured with one arm.

"Your new home away from home," he said with as much sarcasm as he could muster.

John looked up and down the hall, which was empty for the moment, and then shoved Rodney into the room. The door slid shut behind them, and Rodney sputtered in indignation.

"What are you doing, you idiot? Do you have any idea..."

John silenced him by the simple expedient of pressing his lips to Rodney's, in the kiss that Rodney had always regretted never getting all those years ago. His brain short-circuited for a full ten seconds before he pulled back, wide-eyed.

"You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do that," John said with a grin.

"But...I thought you forgot."

"I told you, Doc. It wasn't just physical attraction." John kissed him again, soft and sweet, and pulled him close.

There was so much Rodney wanted to say, though for some reason his throat was so tight he wasn't sure he could get the words out even if he didn't have John's tongue in his mouth. He wanted to say that he'd never forgotten either, that he'd thought about John a lot in the intervening years. The few sexual encounters he'd had since that night in the airport had been lackluster in comparison. He wanted to say that he'd heeded John's advice about his sister, and now their relationship was stronger than it had ever been, even though she was a wife and mother these days instead of a scientist.

John kissed along Rodney's jawline to his ear. "Do you believe in love at first sight?"

"I'm willing to review the data," Rodney admitted with a grin. He pulled back so he could see John's face, and slid his hands down so they held firmly to the flyboy's hips. "Does this mean you'll come to Atlantis?"

"Are you going?"

"It'll be the scientific discovery of a lifetime. Of course I'll be there."

"Then I will be too," John said softly. There was an expression on his face so full of affection that it made Rodney catch his breath. "I'm done being logical, remember?"

"So am I, it would seem." This time Rodney initiated the kiss, enjoying the slick glide of John's tongue along his own. And maybe it wasn't all physical attraction, but that was definitely a part of it judging by the erection poking him in the hip.

"We have a lot to talk about," John said. He squeezed Rodney's ass. "Lots to do."

"Talking is highly over-rated."

"Maybe so. But...aliens?"

"You'll get used to it," Rodney assured him. "Just stick with me. I'll keep you out of trouble."

John raised an eyebrow at that. "Somehow I doubt that."

"No more talking." Rodney backed him up to the narrow bed, much like the first one they'd shared together. "Talking later. Sex now."

"Bossy." John chuckled. "I like it."

"Good. Get used to it." Rodney blushed as he said that, but he wasn't going to apologize for making assumptions. John was right, sometimes logic didn't apply. Sometimes he needed to go with his gut or, if he was in a mushy kind of mood, his heart. And his heart was telling him that his life was going to be very interesting now that John had fallen back into it.

"You still like to lick things?" John blatantly adjusted himself through his flight suit.

Rodney just grinned.

Tags: genre: slash, pairing: mckay/sheppard

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