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Title: Punch Drunk (Lost in Ulaation)
Fandom/Characters: Stargate: Atlantis, McKay/Sheppard
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 3000
Author's Notes: I posted this in
mcsmooch back in January. It's possible I had too much fun writing it. It's certainly one of my favorite titles.
High praises to
darsynia, my bestest brain twin.
Another day, another great-to-meet-you feast, John mused. It was always nice to be greeted with smiles and loud welcomes rather than immediate hostility and gunfire. Still, hours of being polite while the locals made speeches and trotted out singers and dancers for their entertainment got a little wearing.
John took another sip of the ulaa punch and licked his lips. This world did have its own unique perks. The climate and tropical surroundings reminded him of Hawai'i, and he bet that given a few hours with a Jumper, he could find an outstanding beach for surfing.
Next to him, Teyla was taking a large bite of an ulaa fruit and laughing as she chased with her tongue the juice dribbling down her hand. Ronon was cheering loudly at the woman juggling knives in the center of the tables.
Rodney was...John leaned back in his chair to get a better look past Teyla. Rodney was alternating gulps of the local tea (having turned down the affirmed citrus-free punch with claims of "Bad juice flashbacks – snack time has a lot to answer for!") and nibbles of ulaa pastry. Even as John watched, Rodney's waving hands -- encompassing himself and the juggler and apparently the Universe at large -- and rapid-fire commentary to his beleaguered neighbor sped up almost to the point of incomprehensibility.
"I could totally do that if I warmed up properly beforehand and hadn't, uh, strained my wrists yesterday. All juggling really is, is applied physics, you know, weight-to-mass ratios and parabolic pathways, wind resistance, gravitational pulls – what is gravity on this planet, anyway? I mean, obviously you don't know what meters are, and I'm guessing from the lackadaisical attention to details here, you don't much care about seconds, or minutes, or even hours. Not that I'm complaining about taking it easy for once; when you're expected to solve six impossible problems by breakfast like I am every day, it's rather restful to sit back and have people appreciate your greatness. Hey, speaking of, anymore of these delectable pastries? And can we have the recipe to take with us? I never thought I'd meet a delicacy that could beat a cheese danish."
John shook his head. "McKay!"
Rodney startled so abruptly as he spun around to face John that he nearly fell out of his chair. In the ensuing distraction of flailing limbs and bitten-off curses, Rodney's neighbor fled to another table. "What? I was making small talk here, like you're always encouraging me to do. With, um, what was your name again?" He craned back to notice that the chair beside him was empty. "Oh."
John quelled his usual reaction to soothe the disappointed look off Rodney's face. The crestfallen frown didn't last long, anyway, as Rodney launched back into a rambling but rushed recounting of his favorite desserts.
"I mean, there's danishes, which would practically be a food group all to themselves if one, and by one I mean me, didn't have to keep careful track of their fillings. I mean, who ever looked at a lemon and thought, Yes, I must cream that into submission and stuff it into an unsuspecting flaky crust to prey on the unwary!"
By this time, both Ronon and Teyla were staring at Rodney as well. Teyla merely shook her head disapprovingly, but Ronon boomed a loud "What the hell, McKay?"
The headwoman leaned around Teyla to get her own look. "Oh dear. Lost in ulaa, poor thing."
Three heads turned to regard her. John voiced what they were all thinking. "What was that, again?"
"Lost in ulaa?" The headwoman blinked at them. "It is what we say when someone's words run away from them. It is usually only a teasing phrase."
McKay drained his cup of tea and waved to one of the servers. "More please! This stuff has a better kick than coffee! And another plate of the pastries. Hey, have you guys heard of pudding? Because this would make an incredible pudding! Or Jell-o, maybe. Ulaa Jell-o! Ul-o – no, ulaa-o! Would it actually be blue? Or would it turn some horrible puke green color? Like the way puce sounds like it should be, instead of what it is?"
John raised an eyebrow to the headwoman. "'Usually'? Why does that sound kind of ominous? Are you saying there's something in the ulaa?"
"It is...ulaa!" The headwoman stretched out her hands to Teyla. "You have the look and manner of a woman who has travelled to many worlds. Surely you have tasted of the ulaa?"
Smiling, Teyla shook her head. "No, but I hope that we might trade for some more. These are quite delicious."
John was getting a bad feeling about the situation. "Look, we don't know anything about this fruit, aside from its high NOM factor and that you seem to put it in everything."
The headwoman peered at them for a moment, then plucked one of the fruits from the basket and held it aloft. It was the size and shape of a mango, with the fuzzy skin of a kiwi in a brilliant shade of aqua that John hadn't seen in anything other than cocktails with umbrellas in them. The interior was a more muted tone of blue.
"We share the ulaa with each other for joy, and with new friends for gladness and ease in talking. It is a sign of openness and hospitality."
Without even thinking, John had his sidearm out and pointed at the headwoman. Ronon and Teyla were a heartbeat behind in covering the rest of the group.
"Are you telling me that you drugged us?" John hissed. He was beginning to wish that they had been met with blazing guns after all.
"Drugged? No! No!" the headwoman hastily assured them. "The ulaa is no drug. It is a gift, a sign that we wish to build trust with you!"
"I hardly see it as a sign of trust when you slip us a truth serum!"
"But..." The headwoman frantically gestured around at the grouped tables, loaded with ulaa punch and other dishes made from the fruit. "We have all eaten of the ulaa! We did not intend to use it for ill against you! It simply loosens the tongue and frees the soul to speak truly. Believe me, it is no drug to coerce you to act against your will."
John shifted slightly in his stance and aimed right between her eyes. He could think of many truths that his soul had no business mentioning. An alarming proportion of them involved Rodney.
"No! Please!" she begged. "If you wish a test, ask one among your team a question you know they do not want to answer. You will find nothing forces you to speak that which you do not want to reveal."
Before John could think up a suitable query, Rodney levelled an accusing finger at him. "I've got a burning question for you, Sheppard. Why is it that you find it necessary to go Kirking around every planet we visit? I mean, do you have to cockblock me every damned time that a pretty woman even smiles in my direction?"
"I do not Kirk around, Rodney!" John snapped. The accusation of cockblocking rang true, too true for comfort actually. He was relieved to find that nothing compelled him to spill the reason behind it, aside from an automatic, justifiable reaction to defend himself that he was all too practiced in suppressing.
"John," said Teyla, still aiming her P-90 at the crowd. "Do you not have a tradition on your planet of a peace pipe, a sharing of friendly intentions?"
"At least then you knew were smoking something! Like really, who's going to suspect a fruit?" He risked a quick glance around. The crowd had risen to their feet, but no one had gone for a weapon or even adopted a threatening posture. The happy buzz of the group had simply gone silent as they watched the tension at the head table. Rodney was staring at him with a patented "You are such a dumbass" glare.
"I am so very sorry," the headwoman said as she wrung her hands. "We meant no offense. Please, do not let this spoil our chance of an understanding between our peoples."
John lowered his weapon and signalled for Teyla and Ronon to do the same. "I'm sorry, too, but I just don't think we can negotiate with you now."
"If you are worried about any kind of influence, then simply wait until the morning. The effects of the ulaa pass quickly once you stop consuming it." The headwoman pointed off to the side. "Allow us to house you this night, and we will pick up again in the morning if you so permit. I would welcome the chance to overcome this mistake and show you our generosity."
"Sheppard, if you screw up the chance to get some of this tea, and a couple dozen crates of ulaa, then you're an even bigger moron than your ridiculous hair would suggest!" Rodney said. "And another thing, Colonel--"
Teyla slapped a hand over Rodney's mouth. "John, I realize that you see us as being vulnerable right now. However, I think that we have heard nothing but truth here, and that we can still salvage some good out of this situation. Besides..." She rolled her eyes as Rodney continued to shout muffled imprecations against her hand. "Do you really want to return with Rodney to Atlantis when he is this excitable and even more inclined to speak his mind than usual?"
John thought about Rodney unleashed on a defenseless science lab and the slow death by Czech vindictiveness that Zelenka would subject him to, and shuddered. "You may have a point, there." He turned back to the headwoman. "You're sure this stuff should wear off by the morning?"
She graced him with a slight smile. "Sooner, if you have partaken of less than Doctor McKay."
"Fine." John took Rodney by the arm and nodded to the crowd. "Ronon, Teyla, feel free to stay and party. I'm going to make sure that Rodney doesn't spill any state secrets in his motormouthed madness."
"Hey!" Rodney objected as soon as Teyla let go of him. "I'll have you know that I can keep plenty of secrets! My level of classified clearance is much, much higher than yours! For example, did you know that Colonel Carter once --"
"Rodney." Sheppard growled with careful enunciation. "Don't make me gag you."
"Oh!" Rodney squeaked. His cheeks bloomed a rosy blush, and he mimed a zipping of his lips with an anxious nod. John smiled grimly at everyone and towed him away.
Rodney waited until they were in their hut with the door closed to make an inquiring peep. John asked irritably, "What?"
Rodney pointed at his mouth, which he still had firmly shut.
"Oh for fuck's sake, Rodney. Yes, you can open your mouth now. I wouldn't want you to suffocate by verbal overdose!"
"For your information, Colonel Sheppard, I am more than capable of keeping quiet when the situation calls for it! And I don't appreciate your intimations that what I was doing at the feast was anything indecorous or inappropriate! I should think that you'd be happy that I was trying to be friendly with the local populace and engage in spirited conversation!"
"Spirited? Rodney, if your lips had come close to any kindling, they would have started a fire from sheer friction!" The instant the words left his mouth, John felt like zipping his own lips shut. Maybe even bolting them. As it was, he couldn't fight the blush that crept up his ears.
Rodney didn't even notice. The effort of remaining silent for the past few minutes had built up enough of a backlog that no dam stood a chance of blocking the overflow.
"What, now I talk too fast? I'm sorry, Sheppard, having trouble keeping up? Is it that your ears, pointed and elfin-like as they are, simply can't absorb the high speed of information I'm delivering? You know, back in the day, I could actually emulate a 1440-baud modem with my whistle. Granted, it was more noise than signal, but there was still data encapsulation going on. Who would have imagined, all those decades ago, the sheer speed and size of computing today? I mean, we can send such enormous quantities of data through the system now, it's like we're living in the best science fiction!" Rodney paced across the small hut. John backed himself into a corner before he got trampled.
Rodney kept going, and his voice rose higher as it got faster. Topics spilled from his lips like he was auditioning for "Wikipedia: the Condensed Audiobook". John felt his brain beginning to overheat as he attempted to follow the hairpin turns in Rodney's monologue. Finally, he couldn't take any more.
"McKay, for the love of God!" he covered his ears and shouted. "If you don't knock it off, I think you're going to burst my eardrums!"
"A-ha! I knew it! I knew you couldn't keep up with me. Admit it, I'm your intellectual superior! Not that it wasn't obvious - using netspeak in front of the locals? What's next, an outbreak of Valley Girl?"
"For sure, Rodney." John mentally kicked himself. Rodney did not need to know about his mancrush on Ted "Theodore" Logan. "I will admit to anything you want, if it means you can shut up or at least tone it down for five minutes." John frowned at the incipient prickle of a tension headache hovering behind his eyebrows. He slugged down a healthy gulp from the pitcher of omnipresent ulaa juice sitting on a low table and held it against his head.
"Um, Sheppard? You realize you just drank more of the stuff you were railing against?"
John snorted. "It seemed like a good idea at the time. Hey!" he warned as Rodney drew a long breath to sustain himself through the next lecture. "I meant it – what the hell is going to take to get you to shut up?"
"Huh." Rodney lapsed into thought for a few moments. "Most people just leave the room, or send me away, or something like that."
John rolled his eyes. "Not the best option here."
"Well, there was one infamous incident with duct tape back in my grad school days. Luckily, my facial hair hadn't caught up with my age, so peeling it off my mouth didn't hurt as much as it could have."
"As tempting as that sounds right now, I'm all out of tape. What else you got?"
"Coffee always works." Rodney looked at him expectantly, as if he could pull a miraculous cup of Jamaican Blue out of his vest.
"Right. Because you need to be more caffeinated right now."
"Caramels? Toffee? Gum or chewy sweets of one variety or another?"
"Nope, nope, and…" John made a show of patting down his pockets. "Nope."
"Well, there's always Cindy's method." Rodney chuckled to himself. "Brilliant girl, that Miss Ferguson. Utterly misguided about so many topics, including the appeal of brawns over brains, but she had some great ideas."
"And that method would be…?" prompted John.
"Oh, if she thought I'd been talking far too long, usually as I decisively proved just how wrong her current position was in an argument, she'd kiss me. Sometimes I'd pick fights just to get her to interrupt me."
John gaped at Rodney. He couldn't possibly have suggested…No. No way.
Rodney shrugged. "You did ask. I find myself wondering if I perhaps imprinted on that behavior a little too strongly. There were times when Carter and I were sparring -- verbally of course, since she has years of field experience on me -- that I wondered if she wasn't thinking of using the same method-"
Rodney's chatter cut off abruptly. It wasn't until John drew his lips back from having brushed Rodney's that he realized what he'd done.
"Really, Sheppard? In what galaxy would that even be considered a kiss? Hummingbirds have moved slower than that in mid-hover," Rodney scoffed. "Did I ever tell you that I tried to build a robotic reconstruction of a hummingbird? The rotors were impossible to reproduce that small, at least for my limited 8-year-old resources."
John blamed the ulaa for leaning in again. His mouth parted from McKay's with an audible smack.
"Better, but still, you're no Cindy Ferguson." Rodney shook his head sadly.
"Oh, that's it." John grabbed a double handful of Rodney's shirt and pulled him in. He dredged up every memory of every kiss he'd had, and all the tortuous daydreams of ambushing Rodney that had him shifting in his chair during long meetings, and channeled it to his mouth. He grazed, and swooped, and hummed. He nipped at Rodney's lips, and when Rodney opened his mouth in surprise, he licked his way in, intent on chasing away all traces of anyone who'd gone before him. He demonstrated every dirty trick he could until Rodney was moaning and melted against him.
When the roaring in his ears clued him in that a lack of oxygen was starting to become a serious factor, John pulled back. Rodney looked drugged, wrecked, all dilated pupils and swollen lips. His mouth, though…there was the vaguest suggestion of a smug grin hovering at the corners.
"John, you are the most competitive bastard around. Predictable, too." Rodney's grin stretched into a full-blown smile.
John sighed. "Lemme guess. There never was a Cindy, was there?"
"Actually, yes, yes there was. Only the first time she tried that on me, I accidentally bit her lip hard enough that she needed stitches. Things didn't last too long after that." Rodney sheepishly ducked his head. "I've gotten a lot better since then!"
John laughed. "You really are a prize, Rodney."
"Damn right. Let me show you." Rodney tugged his face back in, and proceeded to show John what happened when a genius traded in his words for actions.
Later that night, Rodney awoke to a cold spot where previously there'd been a naked, warm Sheppard. He raised his head with an irritated grunt.
"Call of Nature, Rodney," hissed John, and yelped as he barked his toe on the way back to the bed.
"Cindy? Is that you?"
John thought it was only fair that Rodney got to sleep in the wet spot left by the ulaa splash.
Fandom/Characters: Stargate: Atlantis, McKay/Sheppard
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 3000
Author's Notes: I posted this in
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High praises to
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Another day, another great-to-meet-you feast, John mused. It was always nice to be greeted with smiles and loud welcomes rather than immediate hostility and gunfire. Still, hours of being polite while the locals made speeches and trotted out singers and dancers for their entertainment got a little wearing.
John took another sip of the ulaa punch and licked his lips. This world did have its own unique perks. The climate and tropical surroundings reminded him of Hawai'i, and he bet that given a few hours with a Jumper, he could find an outstanding beach for surfing.
Next to him, Teyla was taking a large bite of an ulaa fruit and laughing as she chased with her tongue the juice dribbling down her hand. Ronon was cheering loudly at the woman juggling knives in the center of the tables.
Rodney was...John leaned back in his chair to get a better look past Teyla. Rodney was alternating gulps of the local tea (having turned down the affirmed citrus-free punch with claims of "Bad juice flashbacks – snack time has a lot to answer for!") and nibbles of ulaa pastry. Even as John watched, Rodney's waving hands -- encompassing himself and the juggler and apparently the Universe at large -- and rapid-fire commentary to his beleaguered neighbor sped up almost to the point of incomprehensibility.
"I could totally do that if I warmed up properly beforehand and hadn't, uh, strained my wrists yesterday. All juggling really is, is applied physics, you know, weight-to-mass ratios and parabolic pathways, wind resistance, gravitational pulls – what is gravity on this planet, anyway? I mean, obviously you don't know what meters are, and I'm guessing from the lackadaisical attention to details here, you don't much care about seconds, or minutes, or even hours. Not that I'm complaining about taking it easy for once; when you're expected to solve six impossible problems by breakfast like I am every day, it's rather restful to sit back and have people appreciate your greatness. Hey, speaking of, anymore of these delectable pastries? And can we have the recipe to take with us? I never thought I'd meet a delicacy that could beat a cheese danish."
John shook his head. "McKay!"
Rodney startled so abruptly as he spun around to face John that he nearly fell out of his chair. In the ensuing distraction of flailing limbs and bitten-off curses, Rodney's neighbor fled to another table. "What? I was making small talk here, like you're always encouraging me to do. With, um, what was your name again?" He craned back to notice that the chair beside him was empty. "Oh."
John quelled his usual reaction to soothe the disappointed look off Rodney's face. The crestfallen frown didn't last long, anyway, as Rodney launched back into a rambling but rushed recounting of his favorite desserts.
"I mean, there's danishes, which would practically be a food group all to themselves if one, and by one I mean me, didn't have to keep careful track of their fillings. I mean, who ever looked at a lemon and thought, Yes, I must cream that into submission and stuff it into an unsuspecting flaky crust to prey on the unwary!"
By this time, both Ronon and Teyla were staring at Rodney as well. Teyla merely shook her head disapprovingly, but Ronon boomed a loud "What the hell, McKay?"
The headwoman leaned around Teyla to get her own look. "Oh dear. Lost in ulaa, poor thing."
Three heads turned to regard her. John voiced what they were all thinking. "What was that, again?"
"Lost in ulaa?" The headwoman blinked at them. "It is what we say when someone's words run away from them. It is usually only a teasing phrase."
McKay drained his cup of tea and waved to one of the servers. "More please! This stuff has a better kick than coffee! And another plate of the pastries. Hey, have you guys heard of pudding? Because this would make an incredible pudding! Or Jell-o, maybe. Ulaa Jell-o! Ul-o – no, ulaa-o! Would it actually be blue? Or would it turn some horrible puke green color? Like the way puce sounds like it should be, instead of what it is?"
John raised an eyebrow to the headwoman. "'Usually'? Why does that sound kind of ominous? Are you saying there's something in the ulaa?"
"It is...ulaa!" The headwoman stretched out her hands to Teyla. "You have the look and manner of a woman who has travelled to many worlds. Surely you have tasted of the ulaa?"
Smiling, Teyla shook her head. "No, but I hope that we might trade for some more. These are quite delicious."
John was getting a bad feeling about the situation. "Look, we don't know anything about this fruit, aside from its high NOM factor and that you seem to put it in everything."
The headwoman peered at them for a moment, then plucked one of the fruits from the basket and held it aloft. It was the size and shape of a mango, with the fuzzy skin of a kiwi in a brilliant shade of aqua that John hadn't seen in anything other than cocktails with umbrellas in them. The interior was a more muted tone of blue.
"We share the ulaa with each other for joy, and with new friends for gladness and ease in talking. It is a sign of openness and hospitality."
Without even thinking, John had his sidearm out and pointed at the headwoman. Ronon and Teyla were a heartbeat behind in covering the rest of the group.
"Are you telling me that you drugged us?" John hissed. He was beginning to wish that they had been met with blazing guns after all.
"Drugged? No! No!" the headwoman hastily assured them. "The ulaa is no drug. It is a gift, a sign that we wish to build trust with you!"
"I hardly see it as a sign of trust when you slip us a truth serum!"
"But..." The headwoman frantically gestured around at the grouped tables, loaded with ulaa punch and other dishes made from the fruit. "We have all eaten of the ulaa! We did not intend to use it for ill against you! It simply loosens the tongue and frees the soul to speak truly. Believe me, it is no drug to coerce you to act against your will."
John shifted slightly in his stance and aimed right between her eyes. He could think of many truths that his soul had no business mentioning. An alarming proportion of them involved Rodney.
"No! Please!" she begged. "If you wish a test, ask one among your team a question you know they do not want to answer. You will find nothing forces you to speak that which you do not want to reveal."
Before John could think up a suitable query, Rodney levelled an accusing finger at him. "I've got a burning question for you, Sheppard. Why is it that you find it necessary to go Kirking around every planet we visit? I mean, do you have to cockblock me every damned time that a pretty woman even smiles in my direction?"
"I do not Kirk around, Rodney!" John snapped. The accusation of cockblocking rang true, too true for comfort actually. He was relieved to find that nothing compelled him to spill the reason behind it, aside from an automatic, justifiable reaction to defend himself that he was all too practiced in suppressing.
"John," said Teyla, still aiming her P-90 at the crowd. "Do you not have a tradition on your planet of a peace pipe, a sharing of friendly intentions?"
"At least then you knew were smoking something! Like really, who's going to suspect a fruit?" He risked a quick glance around. The crowd had risen to their feet, but no one had gone for a weapon or even adopted a threatening posture. The happy buzz of the group had simply gone silent as they watched the tension at the head table. Rodney was staring at him with a patented "You are such a dumbass" glare.
"I am so very sorry," the headwoman said as she wrung her hands. "We meant no offense. Please, do not let this spoil our chance of an understanding between our peoples."
John lowered his weapon and signalled for Teyla and Ronon to do the same. "I'm sorry, too, but I just don't think we can negotiate with you now."
"If you are worried about any kind of influence, then simply wait until the morning. The effects of the ulaa pass quickly once you stop consuming it." The headwoman pointed off to the side. "Allow us to house you this night, and we will pick up again in the morning if you so permit. I would welcome the chance to overcome this mistake and show you our generosity."
"Sheppard, if you screw up the chance to get some of this tea, and a couple dozen crates of ulaa, then you're an even bigger moron than your ridiculous hair would suggest!" Rodney said. "And another thing, Colonel--"
Teyla slapped a hand over Rodney's mouth. "John, I realize that you see us as being vulnerable right now. However, I think that we have heard nothing but truth here, and that we can still salvage some good out of this situation. Besides..." She rolled her eyes as Rodney continued to shout muffled imprecations against her hand. "Do you really want to return with Rodney to Atlantis when he is this excitable and even more inclined to speak his mind than usual?"
John thought about Rodney unleashed on a defenseless science lab and the slow death by Czech vindictiveness that Zelenka would subject him to, and shuddered. "You may have a point, there." He turned back to the headwoman. "You're sure this stuff should wear off by the morning?"
She graced him with a slight smile. "Sooner, if you have partaken of less than Doctor McKay."
"Fine." John took Rodney by the arm and nodded to the crowd. "Ronon, Teyla, feel free to stay and party. I'm going to make sure that Rodney doesn't spill any state secrets in his motormouthed madness."
"Hey!" Rodney objected as soon as Teyla let go of him. "I'll have you know that I can keep plenty of secrets! My level of classified clearance is much, much higher than yours! For example, did you know that Colonel Carter once --"
"Rodney." Sheppard growled with careful enunciation. "Don't make me gag you."
"Oh!" Rodney squeaked. His cheeks bloomed a rosy blush, and he mimed a zipping of his lips with an anxious nod. John smiled grimly at everyone and towed him away.
Rodney waited until they were in their hut with the door closed to make an inquiring peep. John asked irritably, "What?"
Rodney pointed at his mouth, which he still had firmly shut.
"Oh for fuck's sake, Rodney. Yes, you can open your mouth now. I wouldn't want you to suffocate by verbal overdose!"
"For your information, Colonel Sheppard, I am more than capable of keeping quiet when the situation calls for it! And I don't appreciate your intimations that what I was doing at the feast was anything indecorous or inappropriate! I should think that you'd be happy that I was trying to be friendly with the local populace and engage in spirited conversation!"
"Spirited? Rodney, if your lips had come close to any kindling, they would have started a fire from sheer friction!" The instant the words left his mouth, John felt like zipping his own lips shut. Maybe even bolting them. As it was, he couldn't fight the blush that crept up his ears.
Rodney didn't even notice. The effort of remaining silent for the past few minutes had built up enough of a backlog that no dam stood a chance of blocking the overflow.
"What, now I talk too fast? I'm sorry, Sheppard, having trouble keeping up? Is it that your ears, pointed and elfin-like as they are, simply can't absorb the high speed of information I'm delivering? You know, back in the day, I could actually emulate a 1440-baud modem with my whistle. Granted, it was more noise than signal, but there was still data encapsulation going on. Who would have imagined, all those decades ago, the sheer speed and size of computing today? I mean, we can send such enormous quantities of data through the system now, it's like we're living in the best science fiction!" Rodney paced across the small hut. John backed himself into a corner before he got trampled.
Rodney kept going, and his voice rose higher as it got faster. Topics spilled from his lips like he was auditioning for "Wikipedia: the Condensed Audiobook". John felt his brain beginning to overheat as he attempted to follow the hairpin turns in Rodney's monologue. Finally, he couldn't take any more.
"McKay, for the love of God!" he covered his ears and shouted. "If you don't knock it off, I think you're going to burst my eardrums!"
"A-ha! I knew it! I knew you couldn't keep up with me. Admit it, I'm your intellectual superior! Not that it wasn't obvious - using netspeak in front of the locals? What's next, an outbreak of Valley Girl?"
"For sure, Rodney." John mentally kicked himself. Rodney did not need to know about his mancrush on Ted "Theodore" Logan. "I will admit to anything you want, if it means you can shut up or at least tone it down for five minutes." John frowned at the incipient prickle of a tension headache hovering behind his eyebrows. He slugged down a healthy gulp from the pitcher of omnipresent ulaa juice sitting on a low table and held it against his head.
"Um, Sheppard? You realize you just drank more of the stuff you were railing against?"
John snorted. "It seemed like a good idea at the time. Hey!" he warned as Rodney drew a long breath to sustain himself through the next lecture. "I meant it – what the hell is going to take to get you to shut up?"
"Huh." Rodney lapsed into thought for a few moments. "Most people just leave the room, or send me away, or something like that."
John rolled his eyes. "Not the best option here."
"Well, there was one infamous incident with duct tape back in my grad school days. Luckily, my facial hair hadn't caught up with my age, so peeling it off my mouth didn't hurt as much as it could have."
"As tempting as that sounds right now, I'm all out of tape. What else you got?"
"Coffee always works." Rodney looked at him expectantly, as if he could pull a miraculous cup of Jamaican Blue out of his vest.
"Right. Because you need to be more caffeinated right now."
"Caramels? Toffee? Gum or chewy sweets of one variety or another?"
"Nope, nope, and…" John made a show of patting down his pockets. "Nope."
"Well, there's always Cindy's method." Rodney chuckled to himself. "Brilliant girl, that Miss Ferguson. Utterly misguided about so many topics, including the appeal of brawns over brains, but she had some great ideas."
"And that method would be…?" prompted John.
"Oh, if she thought I'd been talking far too long, usually as I decisively proved just how wrong her current position was in an argument, she'd kiss me. Sometimes I'd pick fights just to get her to interrupt me."
John gaped at Rodney. He couldn't possibly have suggested…No. No way.
Rodney shrugged. "You did ask. I find myself wondering if I perhaps imprinted on that behavior a little too strongly. There were times when Carter and I were sparring -- verbally of course, since she has years of field experience on me -- that I wondered if she wasn't thinking of using the same method-"
Rodney's chatter cut off abruptly. It wasn't until John drew his lips back from having brushed Rodney's that he realized what he'd done.
"Really, Sheppard? In what galaxy would that even be considered a kiss? Hummingbirds have moved slower than that in mid-hover," Rodney scoffed. "Did I ever tell you that I tried to build a robotic reconstruction of a hummingbird? The rotors were impossible to reproduce that small, at least for my limited 8-year-old resources."
John blamed the ulaa for leaning in again. His mouth parted from McKay's with an audible smack.
"Better, but still, you're no Cindy Ferguson." Rodney shook his head sadly.
"Oh, that's it." John grabbed a double handful of Rodney's shirt and pulled him in. He dredged up every memory of every kiss he'd had, and all the tortuous daydreams of ambushing Rodney that had him shifting in his chair during long meetings, and channeled it to his mouth. He grazed, and swooped, and hummed. He nipped at Rodney's lips, and when Rodney opened his mouth in surprise, he licked his way in, intent on chasing away all traces of anyone who'd gone before him. He demonstrated every dirty trick he could until Rodney was moaning and melted against him.
When the roaring in his ears clued him in that a lack of oxygen was starting to become a serious factor, John pulled back. Rodney looked drugged, wrecked, all dilated pupils and swollen lips. His mouth, though…there was the vaguest suggestion of a smug grin hovering at the corners.
"John, you are the most competitive bastard around. Predictable, too." Rodney's grin stretched into a full-blown smile.
John sighed. "Lemme guess. There never was a Cindy, was there?"
"Actually, yes, yes there was. Only the first time she tried that on me, I accidentally bit her lip hard enough that she needed stitches. Things didn't last too long after that." Rodney sheepishly ducked his head. "I've gotten a lot better since then!"
John laughed. "You really are a prize, Rodney."
"Damn right. Let me show you." Rodney tugged his face back in, and proceeded to show John what happened when a genius traded in his words for actions.
Later that night, Rodney awoke to a cold spot where previously there'd been a naked, warm Sheppard. He raised his head with an irritated grunt.
"Call of Nature, Rodney," hissed John, and yelped as he barked his toe on the way back to the bed.
"Cindy? Is that you?"
John thought it was only fair that Rodney got to sleep in the wet spot left by the ulaa splash.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-01-27 09:37 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-01-27 04:38 pm (UTC)