McSmooch: Over Six Hundred Served!

sga_smooch is up and running!

sheafrotherdon — Sat, 06 Aug 2011 22:16:17 GMT

Sorry for the delay in getting word out - I've been out of town for the past week - but sga_smooch is now open for business! Info post is [here]!

A new kind of smooching!

sheafrotherdon — Sun, 31 Jul 2011 13:13:13 GMT

Hello all!

gaffsie has had the wonderful idea of combining all the SGA-related smooch communities into one - a place where all ships and all kisses can flourish. I think it's a great plan - mcsmooch has been idle for a while as my fannish interests have shifted and changed, but I'm still all about our characters being snogged as often as possible :D

mcsmooch would not disappear if the new comm came about - there are hundreds of kisses here, moments and stories and art that I treasure, and I know others do too, so the community would continue to exist to archive those contributions. Future, active kissing would be at the new comm.

gaffsie's asking for input at her journal. You can read and comment [here] - please go over and throw in your two cents!

my best
Cate

Spoiling for... (a kiss), PG

elizaria — Tue, 04 Jan 2011 13:38:33 GMT

Spoiling for... (a kiss)
478 words
mentions fanon Atlantis (where there's no such thing as DADT to worry about)
unbeta'd coffebreakwritten smooch, and probably need a better title LoL

"You know, it's kinda funny"

"Huh?" Rodney was already back to thinking about the papers he'd been working on before John came by and stole him for lunch.

"Living in Atlantis totally spoiled me rotten, I kinda forgot about it."

"Wait, spoiled?" Rodney obviously had to pay attention to this, there was no way he was going to let Sheppard think that Rodney agreed with that stupid notion. "Ok, I know you love Atlantis ... but would you please not use a word like spoiled considering how many scars you brought back from there? Plus living in a place where the bad guys eat you as food should seriously be considered as well, your weird hang ups for Todd aside."

"Nah, I just... I can do this now." And Sheppard stops. Rodney barely manages to not walk right smack into him.

"Always so eloquent, and in case it escaped your notice, you're not actually doing anything." Rodney crosses his arms, waiting for Sheppard to get to the point. The papers still in the back of his mind because there was paperwork to handle, and Sheppard was stalling. As usual.

"Ah, but I'm about to fix that." Sheppard takes a step closer. "Right." Slides his hand onto Rodney's shoulder. "Now." And leans in and kisses Rodney. Right there, under open sky and the sun shining on them and people milling about everywhere. The square is busy with crowds rushing about and maybe no one notices them much. But Rodney does, notice. That Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard is still in uniform, close and warm, and is kissing Rodney.

Rodney's lips feels cold when the wind brushes against his wet lips, bereft even though John is still right there. His breath against Rodney's face and his calloused hand curled around Rodney's neck, his forehead leaning against his just like Teyla would do - except not the same at all. He misses Teyla, it's been months since he saw her as they've been temporarily grounded on Earth. It feels vulnerable standing there with his back against the open square, the people walking around them and Rodney can't stop feeling like the world is intruding.

"Stop thinking Rodney."

"I can't."

John smiles that stupid smile, the one that Rodney's never seen much of out here where there are other people. "I know. I like you anyway." And with that John brushes his lips against Rodney's again, curled with a smile against his' still kinda baffled face about the whole... kissing thing. Here. Where isn't Atlantis.

"DADT. The repeal." This was extremely unusually slow for Rodney, he blames (John induced hormones) working in a non-military lab for the past month.

The satisfied smile on John's face, makes Rodney grin back and bump his shoulder. Lunch is over but Rodney will be sure to pick this up later, he will think of something... inappropriately public.

Down the Rabbit Hole (PG)

lilyfarfalla — Tue, 04 Jan 2011 08:10:38 GMT

Title: Down the Rabbit Hole
Author: lilyfarfalla
Word count: ~1,400
Ratings/Warnings: PG, and should be safe for people with triggers.
Summary: Yet another ceremony.....
Author's Note: Oh my goodness, this is ridiculous. But my bunny is feeling better today, and I wanted to celebrate that and our lovely boys and historic legislation at all once.

If it wasn’t the Wraith, it was killer rabbits, John thought bemusedly. News of DADT’s repeal had trickled through the Atlantis news network, and while there wouldn’t be any official policy changes from Earth for some months, if not more, he and Woolsey had decided in a private meeting that adding a brief line outlining the Lantean implementation policy (thought it was dumb to begin with, certainly not enforcing it now) to the weekly Atlantis newsletter would be sufficient.

John was slightly worried that the weekly letter, usually limited to information what the mess was serving that week and when the next wormholes to send data back to Earth were scheduled, might not be the best place for what was possibly the best news he’d gotten from politicians during his military career. But there was no way he was volunteering for speech making, so he let it lie.

Still, weeks after the news from Earth had come through and Woolsey’s policy had gone out, John still hadn’t gotten up the courage to do anything with his new freedom. Blaming the Wraith was probably fair, as blowing up a hive ship or two had taken some time and distracted him from wanting to kiss Rodney, but as for the killer rabbits…

Well, he thought, looking down into the slightly quivering bundle of fur in his arms, ‘killer’ was probably stretching the term a bit.

When the elders of MFX-820 mentioned that one small ceremony had to be completed before they would finalize the trade agreement with Atlantis, John pasted on a tight smile. Ronon pulled out one of his knives and began to clean his fingernails with it, while Rodney looked panicked and started edging towards John. Even Teyla stiffened up slightly. It had been a long year.

But the elders only smiled, and led John’s team over to a fenced-in yard next to one of their small houses.

“We have always honored the spirit of the Ha’Niebers,” Sakuel was saying. “They are a timid creature, but well-beloved by the spirits of fertility and kindliness.”

“And the Ha’Niebers are part of this ceremony?” Teyla questioned, hesitantly.

Sakuel nodded, smiling calmly at Teyla. “Truly, it is a very brief ceremony,” he said.

He opened a gate in the fence and stepped through, closing it behind him. The grass grew taller by the fence and there was a slight rustling. John tensed, hand reaching for his gun. Sakuel bent down to reach for something, and when he stood, he was holding a rabbit in such a way that its legs stuck out awkwardly in front while it swiveled its ears around at each of them.

“This is a Ha’Nieber,” said Sakuel.

John couldn’t help glancing over at Rodney, who caught his eye and whispered, “It must be bunnies.”

John choked back a laugh.

And that was the thing. John wasn’t not kissing Rodney because he was afraid of Rodney’s reaction. Oh, there were uncertainties, but John always performed action to talking, and even if all of his suspicions were wrong, if six years of being the first one the other ran to was just a wrong signal gone haywire, then John knew Rodney would forgive him.

But the way Rodney’s face lit up every time he made John laugh made John think that there was a high probability Rodney would kiss him back. John smiled, somewhat helplessly, as Sakuel handed a rabbit over to Rodney, who handled it like a pro.

And then suddenly Sakuel dropped a bundle of squirming brown fur into his arms, while saying “Be the floor, Colonel Sheppard.”

John struggled for a moment, the rabbit twisting in his arms, until its feet were firmly planted on his chest.

“Ookkk, rabbit,” he said under his breath.

Teyla was holding a black bunny as she had held Torren when he was still a baby, it’s head nestled into the crook of her elbow. Ronon at least looked vaguely uncomfortable, as Sakuel maneuvered a white rabbit to sit in his arms.

“And now that you all have your own Ha’Nieber,” Sakuel said. “We may begin the ceremony. Follow me!”

John and his team followed.

Sakuel led them to a small circular building. Once inside, John saw that the ceiling was incomplete, crossbeams letting in rays of sunlight and a soft breeze.

Sakuel instructed them to form a circle, facing each other.

“Now, we will let the Ha’Niebers act as our guides,” he said. “One at a time, you may each, <i>gently</i>, set your Ha’Nieber on the ground. Then, you must do as the Ha’Nieber does. I will go first.”

Sakuel set his rabbit on the floor next to his feet. The rabbit shook himself slightly, and then hopped over to the wall, where it sprawled out on the floor. Sakuel nodded and went to sit next to the rabbit.

“You see,” he said, rubbing one of the rabbit’s ears, “I am being told that I must sit and rest. Now the rest of you!”

Rodney’s rabbit leapt into the air once it was set down and then raced in circles around the room.

“Means you need to run with us, McKay,” Ronon laughed.

“Yes yes,” Rodney replied, running his own laps around the room.

Teyla’s rabbit yawned when it was set down, and then sat and tucked its legs underneath itself next to Teyla’s feet.

“I have not been meditating as much as I would like,” Teyla admitted, folding her legs and sitting down gently next to her rabbit. “Thank you for the reminder, little one,” she said, stroking its head.

Ronon’s rabbit tried to leap out of his arms several times before he got it close to the ground, and then it dashed over to Teyla and her rabbit, and tried to hide between them.

“Perhaps you must learn to trust in others to protect you,” Sakuel suggested. Ronon looked skeptical.

“Your turn, Colonel Sheppard,” said Sakuel.

John set his rabbit down. It paused for a moment, and then hopped over to Ronon and Teyla, sniffing each of their rabbits briefly, before hopping to where Rodney and his rabbit were sitting. John’s rabbit then started licking Rodney’s rabbit on its forehead, only pausing to allow Rodney’s rabbit to return the favor.

John had a brief moment of panic. There was no way he was licking Rodney in this open air ceremonial hut.

“Ah,” said Sakuel. “Licking is how rabbits show affection. You should show more affection towards your friends.”

Ronon let out a noise that sounded a bit like a laugh interrupted by an elbow to the ribs, and John pretended that his face wasn’t beet red and went to sit next to Rodney and the rabbits. He clasped Rodney’s shoulder and shook it a little, avoiding eye contact.

“Excellent!” said Sakuel. “Now our negotiations are truly complete. Please come and visit our planet at any time, and if you are in need of guidance, the Ha’Niebers are always available!”

On the walk back to the gate, John lagged behind with Rodney.

“So, McKay,” John said. “Do you think Woolsey would let us all adopt a few pet rabbits?”

“Ha!” Rodney snorted. “As much as I’m sure Zelenka would like to train them to carry messages, since I still haven’t been able to bring my cat through to the city, I don’t see why any other fuzzy animal should be allowed.”

John jostled him gently. “We’ll get your cat through someday McKay, no worries.”

Rodney glanced quickly at John’s face and then away. His cheeks were slightly red. “You would, wouldn’t you.” He said fondly. “You’d smuggle an unknown object through time and space if I asked you. Ridiculous.”

John’s heart flipped over, and he stopped abruptly, grabbing onto Rodney’s wrist.

“Colonel?” Rodney said worriedly. “Are you ok, are you allergic to rabbits, should I-”

But John interrupted him with a kiss, just a press of lips to lips, unexpected and inelegant, but Rodney shivered against him, and John kissed him again and again, eyes and cheek and brow, and his lips again and again until Rodney laughed aloud.

Rodney pulled away slightly and met John’s eyes. “Decided to take the rabbit’s advice to heart then?” he asked.

And John laughed deeply, grabbed Rodney around the waist and licked a stripe up his neck. Amidst Rodney’s cries of disgust, John thought to himself contently that rabbits weren’t half bad.

Secrets, PG

gottalovev — Tue, 04 Jan 2011 02:37:35 GMT

Title: Secrets
Author: gottalovev
Word count: 370, PG
Ratings/Warnings: SFW. This story should be safe for people with triggers.
Summary: Some things you don't say. Others you do.

John scratched his belly and yawned, shuffling towards the door where Rodney was almost ready to go, tucking his shirt in his pants.

"I will never understand why you insist on not having a coffee maker in your room," he was bitching, predictable like clockwork. "Coffee! Magically ready at a predetermined time!"

"My room, my rules," John said, snaking an arm around Rodney's waist to pull him close. John would never admit that it was because he was afraid Rodney would get out of bed earlier, if he had the incentive.

"Your rules suck, Sheppard," Rodney said, though he was losing heat already. He smiled and passed a hand in John's hair.

"You look even more ridiculous with bed hair. Who would have thought?"

John felt the silent tug of someone coming closer in the corridor, most probably Lorne. That's another little something that he had always kept for himself, how in Atlantis he could feel the specific vibes of the ATA carriers when they were close enough.

"Don't lie, you love it. And you know my other rule, Rodney," John said, grinning.

Rolling his eyes, Rodney dutifully recited:

"No leaving without a kiss first. I know, you big sap," he said before taking John's face in both of his hands and kissing him, slow and sweet. He could pretend otherwise, but John knew Rodney loved that rule as much as he did.

At the precise moment the ATA carrier was at his door, John put a hand on Rodney's neck to keep him where he was and he opened the door with a thought. It was Lorne indeed, who sidestepped in surprise but rapidly got over it. Rodney jerked back, and John, still holding him close with his arm, smiled at his second in command.

"Major," he said with a nod.

"Good morning Sir," Lorne said with a half smile, and then nodded at Rodney. "Doctor," he added before continuing his way.

Satisfied, John closed the door. After gaping for a second, Rodney frowned at him.

"You planned that, didn't you?"

John shrugged.

"Yeah. Some things don't have to be secrets anymore," he said before starting to manhandle Rodney towards the bed.

Hopefully, coffee was out of Rodney's mind for the moment.

Every Little Thing

almostnever — Mon, 03 Jan 2011 22:17:47 GMT

Title: Every Little Thing
Author: Cesare (almostnever)
Word count: ~3200
Ratings/Warnings: SFW. This story should be safe for people with triggers.
Contains: Past Jennifer/Rodney.
Summary: John anticipated a lot of possibilities for disaster when Rodney invited John to his sister's place for his first Christmas after the breakup with Jennifer. Getting drafted into playing a plastic guitar wasn't one of them.

*

John anticipated a lot of possibilities for disaster when Rodney invited John to his sister's place for his first Christmas after the breakup with Jennifer.

Getting drafted into playing a plastic guitar wasn't one of them.

"Can we do "Ghostbusters" again Uncle John? Please please?" Hopping up and down with a toy microphone in her hand, Madison was big trouble in a little Santa hat.

"Sure, squirt," John answered with his best we're-peaceful-explorers smile.

Madison squealed and began shuffling through game menus. John looked around, but there was no sign of the other adults. The Millers disappeared right after Rodney awkwardly volunteered to look after Maddy, and ten minutes after that, Jennifer called and Rodney vanished with the phone. That was fourteen songs ago.

John wondered if he had time to run and sneak a Tylenol, but Maddy could line up songs in her game so fast that John barely had time to blink, let alone get the guitar strap over his head, disentangle from the cords and visit the restroom.

"If there's something strange! In your neighborhood!" Maddy caroled, while John gamely stabbed at the slick colorful keys on the neck of the guitar.

The sad thing was, he'd asked for it. When Maddy started waving around her Lego Rock Band game, John hadn't waited for Rodney to start in about the guitar in John's quarters; he reached for the Fender-shaped controller all on his own.

What he'd since learned was that moderate skill with an acoustic guitar gave him zero advantage when it came to hitting the right buttons at the right time on a guitar-shaped video game controller. The game didn't use musical notation, much to Rodney's disgust. Instead, color-coded Lego blocks slid down the screen to tell John where to put his fingers. And he only knew a handful of the songs.

Even when he knew the guitar riffs, the game reduced everything to five keys and left out some of the notes, confusing him. John was consistently getting scores around ninety percent, which was pretty tragic in a game meant for eight-year-olds.

It could be worse. Madison was taking piano lessons and could hold a tune, and she was clearly having a ball. John would probably be enjoying this if Rodney were still around to question the song selections and make fun of John for moving his hips to the beat of "Walking on Sunshine."

Or even if John just knew why Rodney and Jennifer broke up, if he just knew whether they were likely to get together again... maybe then he could relax.

He was grateful Maddy was such a cheerful kid and so excited to have someone playing her game with her that she barely looked away from the screen. "I want to do this one, can we do this one?"

John resettled his shoulders, trying to force them down, find his slouch again. "You bet," he smiled at her, and his headache eased up a little when she beamed back at him.

At least someone was glad he was here. Rodney invited him, and even insisted when John tried to turn it down with vague noises about seeing Dave (yeah, no) or joining Teyla and Kanaan and Torren and Woolsey on their trip to Spain and France (and he was honestly glad that Teyla's family had bonded with Woolsey over his delight at playing tour guide and showing them Earth, but again... no.)

Then Jeannie phoned him and warmly commanded him to join them, and John stupidly bought into the comfortable feeling of inclusion and agreed to come.

But once they arrived at the Millers', Rodney kept scurrying off to pull Jeannie aside for low-voiced conferences. He didn't go so far as to avoid John, but he managed not to spend much time alone with him.

Through everything over the years, he and John had maintained the same easy, snappish rapport. But for a stretch of their friendship, their public sniping had been counterbalanced by private, quiet, halting conversations, usually under the influence of a couple of beers. Those went away when Rodney got serious about Jennifer, and it seemed like they were never coming back.

John realized with a sinking feeling that Jeannie must have insisted on inviting John thinking that Rodney needed the company. But Rodney obviously would rather John wasn't around.

It sucked, especially because John started the trip in a great mood. Atlantis had been on Earth way too long. Rodney polished up his wormhole drive well enough to send some F-302s and finally the General Hammond and the Daedalus to Pegasus. Teyla and her family had been back and forth four times now, on top of the team's two extended trips, going on offworld missions using the Alpha site as a base. That meant they didn't leave their allies hanging, but it also gave the bureaucrats an excuse to hem and haw over sending Atlantis itself back.

Eventually some committee somewhere issued a report on the benefits and drawbacks of keeping Atlantis parked in the Pacific and recommended that the city return to Pegasus. The city would leave Earth on March 1st, 2011. Everyone who was reupping to the expedition would be returning after the holidays, and John had been happy to see that even after so long, nearly two-thirds of the old crew were coming back.

The vote ending Don't Ask, Don't Tell was John's more private cause for celebration. He didn't see himself coming out any time soon, but it was progress, and a relief to know the people who came after him wouldn't have to make the same kind of compromises, eventually. They'd make different compromises, but there was reason to hope they'd be better ones.

John had every reason to be content, fumbling his way through the end of "Kung Fu Fighting" while Madison bounced joyfully around him.

Maybe if Rodney would get off the goddamn phone.

"I don't know this one's words so I'm going to switch to drums, okay Uncle John?" said Madison, picking "Summer of '69".

"Okay," he agreed, shuffling aside so she could see the screen from behind the toy drum kit. Rodney picked it off her wishlist as her Christmas gift; John suspected Rodney had been hoping the drums would be a nuisance, but the patter of the sticks against the pads never got that loud no matter how hard Maddy pounded.

Once the song was playing, John wished for more noise. He barely knew this one, or so he thought, but as he pressed the keys and followed along, he remembered driving around in his first car, the radio blaring unheard while he simmered with everything he and his father weren't saying to each other about John's plans for college.

He must have heard this song a hundred times that summer without ever really listening to it, but here it was in his head unlocking all those memories, like the control chair lighting up for his ATA gene.

He was pretty sure this song played at Mitch's wedding reception, too. He could almost see Mitch and Kelly turning around the dance floor, careless to the music, wrapped up in each other.

Standing on your mama's porch, you told me that you'd wait forever... He was horrified to realize he was kind of choking up.

John focused harder on the little Lego bricks floating by, hating this. He didn't even have this kind of reaction to songs he liked.

Naturally that was when Rodney finally decided to show up again, strolling into the room tossing the cordless phone from hand to hand. He looked cheerier. Maybe they'd reconciled. John's fingers slipped on the keys, ruining the end of the song.

"Seventy-four percent," said Rodney when the scores came up. "You know this is a kid's game, right?"

Sure. Bring it, he thought, and finally ducked out from under the guitar strap. "Guess that means it's your turn."

"Look, I have a philosophical objections to a game that purports to simulate the experience of playing music without even offering the option of viewing the notes on a staff in proper notation," Rodney tried to back away, but John firmly saddled him with the guitar.

"That's okay, Uncle Mer!" said Madison. "I'm done playing now! Oh but if you wanna go more Uncle John, here's the microphone and if you move these levers you can make the drums go higher so you can play them too."

"Thanks, Maddy," said John as she handed him the drumsticks and sped off yelling "I NEED COOKIES!"

Surprisingly the mention of cookies didn't lure Rodney to follow right away. "Did you want to keep going?" he asked, mock solicitous. "I'm sure you want a chance to sing Bon Jovi. I noticed when you played it with Madison earlier you were mouthing the words."

"Everybody knows Bon Jovi," John shrugged.

"Oh, I think there's more to it than that," said Rodney smugly. "I suspect a secret hair metal-loving past."

"You're the one who had REO Speedwagon hair back in the day." The photos Jeannie showed him had some truly frightening hair on evidence, but also the heartache of seeing Rodney when he was young and pretty and held himself like he suspected anyone who got close was planning to shove him into a locker.

John was amazed all over again that he and Rodney ever managed to become friends, remembering the way Rodney eyed him at first with that same kind of suspicion, like John was just waiting to yell Psych! and dump his books.

But here they were. It hadn't been easy. It took another galaxy to do it.

And maybe this galaxy would undo it. The paperwork had been crossing John's desk for a while now, and he knew by heart which of the Atlantis veterans were coming back with them. Keller's name wasn't on that list. If she was staying, if she and Rodney got back together...

"Ha ha. It's not as if I had it on purpose," Rodney was saying, busily switching off all the game paraphernalia and the home theater system. "I just happened to have more important things on my mind than constantly getting it cut."

"Constantly, huh?"

Rodney waved him off.

John couldn't help tensing at the sound of a car rolling up next to the house, even though he knew it was almost definitely Jeannie and Kaleb coming back. Rodney gave him a rueful look of understanding.

"I miss the thigh holsters," he said.

"No kidding."

"Especially yours," Rodney added, going to the door.

Jeannie came in, nose and cheeks pink, happy. "Thank you so much, you guys," she said, standing aside as Kaleb carried in a bag of groceries. "Was she a total monster?"

"She wore John out with her fake music game. Ooh, cream cheese," he spotted. "We could make cream cheese frosting to put on the rest of the sugar cookies."

"Mer! Those cookies are already frosted!"

The Millers had hardly put away their groceries before they were right back back out the door, this time with Madison in tow. "We'll be back around nine," said Jeannie. "Thanks again. You know how it is, we just had to get out of the house."

Once they were gone, John found himself standing with Rodney in the dining room, both of them a little stunned at the sheer quiet. They'd arrived just before Christmas and now it was after New Year's; it was the longest period of time John had spent around civilians in years, and the Millers' house always seemed vibrant and haphazard compared to Atlantis. There might be a crisis every week, there might be danger and chaos, but the crew quarters were utterly soundproofed.

"Sit," said Rodney, pointing toward the living room. "I'll make eggnog."

John sat on the sofa, a little dubious; there was eggnog already in the fridge, so "making" it just meant mixing in the brandy. Sure enough, when Rodney handed him a cup, John barely tasted it before his tongue went numb. "Jesus, Rodney," he said, "I could light this on fire!"

Right on cue, Rodney's chin went up, but he seemed almost to remind himself to relax; he smiled a little, nervous but real, and clinked his glass against John's. "We'll be back on duty before you know it. Might as well seize the day."

"This smells like about three days' worth of seizing," John said, but he drank. After the first bracing hit, it tasted all right. And after a few more swallows, he was ready to ask, "How'd it go on the phone with the doc?"

Rodney chuckled. It was such a rare sound that John's head jerked up; generally the best anyone ever got out of Rodney was a huff of acknowledgment that they'd said something that might be viewed as nominally amusing.

"Sorry," Rodney said. Somewhere in there, Keller had taught him that apologizing didn't always mean accepting blame, and Rodney had been doling it out a lot more frequently since. "This, ah, isn't my first of these... or my second."

John took another belt of eggnog-tinted brandy. "Something to celebrate?"

Rodney exhaled softly and let his head fall. John looked over, startled to see Rodney still smiling, looking as relaxed as John had ever seen him. Brandy, who knew. Rodney turned his head and aimed the smile at him directly. "I can't believe I ever thought you were hard to read."

"Okay...?"

"I think it's those faces you make," Rodney went on thoughtfully. "All those quick fake-looking little expressions you have. It's like dazzle camouflage. Even if something real does show on your face, it's easy to write off as another one of your bizarre facial contortions."

What the hell. "You got me, Rodney. That's why I do an hour of face yoga every day. That was definitely my plan."

"I wouldn't put it past you," said Rodney. "Except maybe the part about having a plan." He straightened, leaning back against the sofa cushions. "Jennifer decided she wants to come back to Atlantis when we finally get off this rock. We had a talk about our working relationship."

John nodded. He leaned back too; the universe was off-kilter if Rodney looked more relaxed than he did. "It's good she's coming back," he offered. "She learned to handle herself pretty well."

"Please. Will you just ask already?" Rodney complained. "No, we're not getting back together."

"Not really my business," John said. "But, uh, sorry. About that."

Rodney snorted, but quickly turned it into a cough. John had to shake his head at the tiny attempt to be considerate.

Finishing off his drink, Rodney said, "Ah, okay, I... wanted to ask you something."

John's perverse streak made him want to wonder aloud if it was the "don't ask" kind of asking, though the question itself would be an answer even if that wasn't anything like what Rodney meant to ask him. And anyway... he smiled a little, remembering: there was no "don't ask" asking anymore.

"I was wondering," said Rodney, "if the recent legislation changes anything."

Oh. Huh. "Not immediately," John said. "For now, people can still be separated under section 654 of title 10. There's going to be some slow-grinding gears moving to get benefits and pensions updated. It might take another year before the new policies go into effect."

Rodney made a dissatisfied noise.

"Yeah, well. Bureaucracy," John said. "Why do anything slow when you can do it really slow?"

"No-- well, yes, also that, but no," Rodney foundered. "I was-- I meant, does it change anything for you."

John had plenty of practice at shrugging off much more pointed questions and remarks along those lines, but hearing it from Rodney made him tighten up all over, even as it made his whole body feel a little lighter.

"Ask me in a year," he said finally.

"Okay," said Rodney. "So while that one's on hold, here's another." He hesitated longer for this one. "Does the fact that I'm single again change anything...?"

John looked around the room. Icicles from the tree matted in the carpet, the plastic guitar tilted against the end table, the drum set in the middle of the floor... he'd imagined this moment in dozens of ways and he'd never pictured anything like this.

"Yeah," he said, looking down into his empty-- oh hey, how'd that happen?-- cup.

"All right," Rodney said. "Um. So... ask again in a year?"

John shook his head blindly and leaned against him, hoping, and when he turned his head Rodney was there.

It was the shallowest grade-school kiss, lips barely brushing, but everything else could come later; this was exactly what he wanted right now, a gesture of recognition and affection, finally, finally, finally.

They separated, and Rodney ducked his head. John had never seen his uneven mouth slant up quite like that before: happily.

"Thank goodness we finally got that settled," said Rodney. "I've been telling myself on a yearly basis that I'm over you and it was seriously starting to wear thin."

"Good," John said. He extended one finger to touch Rodney's sleeve. Just that was enough to give him a sense of hope he'd almost forgotten he could feel.

"Of course I wouldn't use words like 'at first sight' or anything," said Rodney. "But they might possibly be applicable."

"Along with words like 'lust' and 'horny'?" John suggested, holding back a laugh.

Rodney bumped shoulders with him, throwing him an elbow, but as always he couldn't quite bring himself to lie. "Fine, yes," he said, affronted. "Those words also apply."

Rodney being Rodney, he could probably lay out love flat on the table if he decided to go there. The indirectness was probably for John's sake, and there was a lump in his throat John was firmly identifying as appreciation for that.

Somehow he found himself getting words past it. "You have to know," his voice sounded awful, destroyed, "that I would do anything for you."

"Yeah," Rodney answered. He moved his hand so that their fingertips touched and looked there, stroking John's fingers, until John pulled himself together.

"Anything. Except more Lego Rock Band," he said. "Madison made me play "Ghostbusters" with her four times."

"Does that mean you're not going to serenade me with Bon Jovi?"

John felt light and warm with relief, coming out the other side of the moment he'd waited so long for, and finding this familiar territory waiting for him.

"Well," he said seriously, "You do give love a bad name."

"More of a clumsy-but-means-well name, going by my last two exes," Rodney sighed. He looked at John with none of the usual mugging and eyerolling between them, a level gaze. "It is that, for me, you know."

"It's Bon Jovi for you?" John couldn't help himself. Being happy might actually make him more of a dick.

"Yes," Rodney said, all exasperation, but he looked happy too. "You asshole. It's Bon Jovi for me."

"Hey, me too," John couldn't stop grinning. "Rock on."

FIC: North is East

pollitt — Mon, 03 Jan 2011 05:19:57 GMT

North is East
SGA | John/Rodney | PG | 665 words | Thank you to maverick4oz for her awesomeness and for the story idea. Sly nods to Who and HHGttG found within. | Written for mcsmooch

“That’s it, I am never, ever, letting you fly a city ever again,” Rodney said by way of a greeting.

North is East

“That’s it, I am never, ever, letting you fly a city ever again,” Rodney said by way of a greeting.

John had been waiting at the pier for a good twenty minutes before he could hear the agitated footsteps that could only belong to Rodney.

“Beer?” John offered, pulling one of the cans from the six-pack and holding it as Rodney walked closer.

“I know you’re going to say you had other things on your mind, namely how to land a city on a new body of water after having just traveled from one galaxy to the next. And yes, I might not have been able to figure out in time how to pull up the schematics for New New Lantea so you could properly orient yourself.”

Rodney was pacing now, his hands moving in an agitated, animated fashion. After the fourth circuit, John gave up and set the (now) five-pack on the edge of the dock and sat down, his legs extending over the edge.

“Rodney,” John said, looking over his shoulder. “Rodney, sit down and tell me what the hell you’re talking about.”

“But couldn’t you have at least taken into consideration the cardinal directions and orientation of Atlantis before deciding to say ‘Geronimo’ and ‘splash’?” Rodney continued.

“Rodney.” John was louder this time and either the irritation in his voice, or the volume, finally achieved its goal in pushing through Rodney’s tirade and stopping him in his tracks. “Please. Sit. Drink. And tell me what you are moaning on about?”

Rodney, thankfully, listened and sat down. He took the offered beer and his sigh matched the hiss of the beer opening. “Do you realize that this isn’t the east pier anymore? It’s now the north pier, and so when you say ‘let’s meet at the pier’ and you mean our pier, it’s not the east pier anymore.”

John hadn’t realized that. When he’d told Rodney to meet him so they could have a celebratory drink (and maybe, hopefully, probably a nice, long makeout session) at their pier, he’d just walked directly to the pier closest to the room with the neon green door, not even taking the cardinal directions into consideration.

“I...” he started to say, but Rodney cut him off.

“I went to the east pier, which used to be south pier but isn’t anymore, but is apparently where Radek does sunset yoga. Which I never need to see again. Really, I shouldn’t have to worry about these things when I should be thinking about more important things like--”

“Like how we’re finally back home, and we’re back on our pier--whatever pier you want to call it--and no one is going to need us for the next... hours... and we can finally do this again,” John filled in, tugging on Rodney’s shirt.

John can almost see the symphony of Rodney’s thoughts come to a cymbal crashing halt, but in less than a beat he’s changed tunes.

“Yes, this exactly,” Rodney agreed, his mouth curling into a easy smile as he leaned toward John and kissed him.

In the pantheon of great kisses, this one probably wouldn’t have even made it into the also-rans--which wasn’t to say it wasn’t good, because it was--for skill and knock-your-socks-off intensity. But, John thought as he cupped Rodney’s jaw, for the sheer monumentalness of it all, this one could make it into at least the honorable mentions.

“Tell you what,” John said, stealing one more, quick kiss. “While I can’t pick up Atlantis and put her back down so she’s facing the right direction. I can do this.”

He reached into the thigh pocket of his BDUs and pulled out his Swiss Army knife. Opening up one of the blades he carved two digits into the plank of wood between them

“There. Now, no matter where the pier lines up on the compass. This will always be ours.” He said, closing knife up again.

For that, Rodney had to kiss him again.

Bedtime, G

goddess47 — Sun, 02 Jan 2011 22:24:06 GMT

Title: Bedtime
Author: goddess47
Rating: P
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Length: 410
Summary: Double dipping for the mcsheplets challenge #88 - Sleep and mcsmooch!!!!

Part of the ongoing, part time Julianna verse where the only thing you really need to know is that John and Rodney had a not necessarily well behaved daughter named Julianna. Click on the tag for the rest of the stories.

Here: Bedtime

Fic: 1000 Cranes

melagan — Sat, 01 Jan 2011 00:42:03 GMT

author:melagan
title:1000 Cranes
word count:464
rating: PG
beta:em_kellesvig
mistakes=mine

“A thousand paper cranes, a thousand paper cranes, a thousand paper cranes.”

John peeked his head through the doorway and watched as Rodney pinched the bridge of his nose and continued to mutter to himself about paper cranes. He wasn’t, John observed, actually making any.

“Rodney?”

Rodney raised a hand as if to forestall John from further talking. “Please, I’m having a visual. Oh, never mind.” He put his hand down. “It’s not working anyway.”

“Wait a minute.” John said. “You’re trying to make a wish come true by, what, thinking about it? What happened to the actual paper folding?” John put his hands on his hips and leaned closer. “Since when have you even believed in wishes coming true, McKay?”

“It’s a thing. Miko mentioned the legend and… Look, it’s not like I have time to sit and physically make…” Rodney stopped talking with a huff, and folded his arms across his chest.

“Why, McKay,” John teased. “I believe that’s almost a pout.” He pulled up chair and sat next to Rodney. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on in that brilliant brain of yours.”

Pointing to himself, Rodney said, “Hey, you’re talking to an almost ascended being here. Have some respect. Anyway, I found out it’s typically for granting wishes for long life or recovery from an illness or injury. Knowing our luck, well, you do the math.”

John nodded and leaned close enough that their shoulders touched. “Un-huh. And?”

Rodney glanced sideways at John through long eyelashes. “I just thought…you’re always throwing yourself into danger. I know, I know. It’s your job, but a little extra insurance couldn’t hurt.”

“Aw, Rodney,” John grinned. “You were going to use your wish up on me.”

“Don’t let it go to your head, Sheppard.”

“No. Of course not.” John let his arm slip down over Rodney's shoulder and teased, “You think I’m special.”

“Yes. You’re a very special snowflake, Colonel. What do you say we call this conversation over?”

John cocked his head and looked hard at the man sitting beside him. The flat line of Rodney’s mouth said, “Give it a rest.” But the hint of softness in those blue eyes told another story. He drew in a sharp breath.

“Rodney?” John reached out and traced Rodney’s stubborn lower lip with his thumb. Shaking his head, he said, “Only you, McKay.”

Rodney didn’t move. Hell, John was starting to wonder if he was even breathing, he sat so still. Then Rodney’s eyelashes fluttered shut and he closed his mouth over John’s thumb, kissing the tip. John softly moaned.

Rodney looked straight at him, letting every emotion show on his face, and said, “I would make a million of them for you, John. I swear, I would make as many as it takes.”

Fanart: PDA

mashimero — Fri, 31 Dec 2010 21:42:04 GMT

John returns from a off-world mission. Rated G, but warnings for a large image.

Disclaimer: the background was traced from set photos.

Lure, by chkc

chkc — Wed, 29 Dec 2010 04:24:30 GMT

Title: Lure
Rating: G
Warning: Abuse of metaphorical vs literal meaning of closet. Large image ahead.

McSmooch Fic: Holy Matrimony, Batman

toomuchplor — Tue, 28 Dec 2010 04:44:34 GMT

Length: 1964 words
Rating: NC-17
Summary: In the How Not to Fly 'verse, set around the same time as It Isn't That Amazing. May not make a ton of sense if you haven't at least gotten the general idea of events in How Not to Fly.

John has to work hard to stay awake so he can enjoy the whole thing: Rodney's blunt-nailed fingertips skating across John's skin, the gentle sweet tickle of it, soothing and comforting and a whole lot of things John had thought he was past desiring after about age ten.

A/N: Some vague relation to DADT repeal, sort of. Definite kissing, though. I got that bit right.

"You started without me?" asks Rodney, sounding pathetic and wounded.

"You weren't here," John replies, unmoved, but he shifts over a little anyway and makes room for Rodney next to him on the bed. Rodney kicks off his shoes and wriggles in close, propped up against the headboard at a perfect angle for John to sort of lean in and rest his head on the broad familiar solidity of Rodney's chest.

"God, I love this movie," says Rodney, already appeased. They're barely ten minutes into Batman anyway; Rodney's hardly missed anything. He's even in time for the awesome rubber shark with the clearly visible rope hanging off it.

"I know you do," says John, abruptly drowsy and content with the scent of Rodney in his nostrils, the heavy feel of Rodney's possessive hand stroking over John's back over his t-shirt.

They watch for a while, pointing out the myriad continuity and effects goofs, and then John gradually drifts out of talkativeness and Rodney reaches down to hike up John's t-shirt. It's rare that Rodney's generous and gracious like this, giving out free back scratches without a word of bargaining involved. John has to work hard to stay awake so he can enjoy the whole thing: Rodney's blunt-nailed fingertips skating across John's skin, the gentle sweet tickle of it, soothing and comforting and a whole lot of things John had thought he was past desiring after about age ten.

"Are you making sex in there?" PJ calls through their closed bedroom door, making John jump and blink out of the trance Rodney had cast over him.

"Making sex?" Rodney repeats in a mutter, rolling his eyes. "I swear, he sits in his room and thinks of weirder and more awkward ways to say it." He raises the volume of his voice to answer. "No, we're not making anything, come in already."

The door creaks open and John shifts, moving away from Rodney and trying to get his shirt back down, but he's still slow with contentment and he doesn't make it far.

"Stay put," Rodney hisses irritably, the gentleness of his hand on John's shoulder belying his tone.

"But -- Peej," says John, flopping down again.

"He's seen you shirtless in the pool a million times," says Rodney.

"It's different when we're lying"-- and John has to stop because PJ is in the room and clambering over the bed and dropping down next to John, a small knobby-kneed intrusion into the quiet sanctuary that usually exists in this space.

"After you're done scratching Yooge's back can you do mine?" asks PJ, kicking and settling.

"I live to serve all Sheppard men," Rodney says flatly, but his hand drifts back to work and slowly John gives in to it, letting the hypnotic sweep of Rodney's touch relieve him of his usual anxiety about PJ seeing the two of them like this.

PJ loves the movie, somewhat to John's surprise. He laughs great childish belly laughs at the silliness and gets too excited at the fight scenes, shouting out the campy cartoon sound effect words with glee. At some point John's drowsiness finally drops into actual sleep, and the next thing he's aware of, the room is dark and quiet and Rodney is standing beside the bed with a sleeping PJ slung over his shoulder.

"I'll just take him back to his room," says Rodney. "He might sleep in tomorrow, thank god for winter break."

"Mm," says John, warm under the throw blanket Rodney must have drawn over him. "S'a good movie."

He seems to drift off again, because it feels like only a couple of seconds pass before Rodney is back, browbeating John to move his legs already and get under the covers.

"I don't suppose you're awake enough to..." and Rodney lets his voice trail off suggestively, and John hums his sleepy cooperation. He lets Rodney take off John's pants and socks and underwear, and then Rodney wriggles under the sheets and takes John in his mouth.

"If you're thinking about Adam West please don't tell me about it," says John, blinking into arousal with a grin.

Rodney's mouth is otherwise occupied but he manages a sarcastic huff of air through his nose.

"Fine, just thought it was weird that Batman gets you horny," John says, knowing that this will provoke Rodney into stopping what he's doing, and sure enough, there's Rodney's flushed sweaty face popping out from under the covers to glare at John, ripe for the kissing.

Rodney makes angry noises into John's mouth for approximately three seconds before going a little crazy and ardent in response to John's own urgency. "You're horny too," Rodney accuses him with a smirk, and then his face goes eager and weirdly innocent all at once. "Oh! Can we fuck?"

"You do me," says John, and Rodney sort of falls across the mattress to get to the bedside table drawer.

"You're really going through a phase," says Rodney when he comes back, kneeling between John's legs and fumbling with the lube. "Not that I'm complaining."

"I like it when you do me," says John, wanting to sound defensive, but instead it comes out all purring and uncomfortably like Lee Meriwether, who was the least hot Catwoman anyway.

"I noticed," Rodney answers. "But it's kind of a new thing."

It really is kind of a new thing, John knows, and if he were the type to psychoanalyze himself he'd probably say that it's indicative of how comfortable he's gotten with Rodney in this new life, this way they're together now where it's actually okay for their nine-year-old nephew to join them while they're curled into each other watching a movie. John's never been like this with anyone, not anyone, and that's including the Rodney of Atlantis. "I like it," says John again, because he's not at all prone to psychoanalysis, but Rodney can figure it out with his giant brain if he tries.

"I like it too," says Rodney with characteristic honesty, and reaches down to finger John. "Try and keep it down, Colonel Bottom."

John huffs a laugh but mostly he's feeling his ribs expanding with his quickening breath, the desperate adrenaline surge that always accompanies the moment of resistance before John schools himself into surrender. His heart is pounding wildly. It's too good, John doesn't know what to do with himself, so he pulls Rodney down by one shoulder and nips at his pointy chin, his wide mouth. "Hurry," he says.

"I can't hurry when you're this"-- and Rodney twists his busy index finger, and John makes a helpless ha! noise -- "this tight, would you just -- come on, John. Come on."

"No," says John, panting for real now, sweat popping out on his forehead and his chest. If he could, he'd probably shout right now, less from pleasure and more from this weird rush of -- something. Something terrifying and addictive.

"Yes," says Rodney, leaning in, insistent and strong and over John. "Come on, John."

And John squeezes Rodney's shoulder hard enough to bruise and gives in all at once.

"Shh, shh," says Rodney, half-laughing. "Can't believe I used to have to encourage you to make noise for me."

"Shut up," says John, or tries to.

"Shh," says Rodney again, laughing in earnest now. "Jesus, you're lucky the kids sleep like the dead. You'll get Brutus barking."

"Okay, I'll be -- I'll be quiet, I'm going to be quiet," says John, shivering and nodding and willing to do whatever he can to make Rodney happy.

And Rodney's finger moves easily now, quickly joined by a second, and then Rodney presses John's thighs apart and moves in, bare and slick and with his palm sweaty but sure on the shaking sensitive underside of John's bent right knee. John's always liked to watch but his appreciation for this particular sight has grown by leaps and bounds recently: Rodney's face first stern with concentration, then slack with shocked pleasure, then gradually shifting into heavy flushed appreciation. John is the one giving this to Rodney; it's a weird kind of power John hadn't ever suspected he'd like, but god, does he like it now.

"Yeah," says John, getting a hand up into Rodney's hair, mussing it into sweaty small spikes. "It's good, Rodney."

They've practiced this a lot lately, and it doesn't take Rodney more than a half dozen strokes to find John's sweet spot, and then they're moving together, shifting speeds to let the tension really build up in incrementally larger peaks.

When it gets really good it's blissfully mindless, an exquisite place of no-thought, leaving only motion and feeling to be experienced. They don't even have to talk anymore; they know each other's bodies too well to need it.

Rodney usually talks anyway, which John has mostly stopped pretending not to like. It's almost all nonsense anyway, which is gratifying in itself: the greatest mind of their generation reduced to yeah and fuck and John, John. Once in a while something really dirty and shocking slips out, and John loves that too, even though the exact same words repeated any other time would make both of them cringe with embarrassment.

"I'm close, really, really," says Rodney now, moving hard and fast in John, over him. "Really," he says again, "oh, god," and arches his back hard and comes, and John hurries his own hand to catch up with Rodney, coming just as Rodney starts to back off, moving from the urgent thrusts of initial orgasm into the leisurely rocking of the aftershocks that follow a powerful climax. "Shh," says Rodney again, still moving lazily, and kisses John's mouth through the highest rushes of release, muffling his noises.

"Oh, Adam West," says John, once he gets his breath back.

"So funny," says Rodney, and reaches down to pull out. "Is there a towel in that drawer? Please say yes, I'm going to fall over if I try to stand up right now."

John is almost gone already but he rouses himself enough to grunt an affirmative, barely aware of Rodney's ministrations, the tender way Rodney eases John's legs down and sweeps some of the perspiration from his chest and face before tending to the messier areas further down.

"Did you hear about DADT?" Rodney asks quietly, his voice pulling John out of the gathering heaviness of sleep. He's lying down behind John now; some time has slipped by.

"Yeah," says John, "I heard."

"What'd you think?" asks Rodney. He's not after John's opinion on American military policy, and they both know it.

"I like our bed," says John, consonants slurring a little. "I like our house."

"You like our life here," says Rodney, getting it in one.

"I like it when you kiss me to make me quiet," says John, not really sure if he's saying it aloud at this point. "I like it when Peej watches TV with us. I like Nora's bicycle always in the driveway when I'm trying to park the SUV."

There's a bit of a silence, long enough that John's pretty sure he actually just thought it all without speaking. But then--

"Me too," says Rodney. "Just -- checking in. That's all." He presses one careful kiss to the nape of John's neck, then settles down to sleep.

John falls into slumber with Rodney's heat at his back and wakes to the sound of rain pattering down onto the roof over their bedroom, in their house in the suburbs, with their kids sleeping soundly just down the hall.

a Christmas smooch

mayachain — Fri, 24 Dec 2010 15:30:03 GMT

515 words, PG

Rodney is having a good time, enjoying the gratuitous amounts of food the military cooks and Drs Kerel and Mazeni thought up for Christmas dinner. Mr Woolsey has assumed control of the central ipod, so the music coming out of the mess hall’s speakers is actually tasteful. None of Rodney’s team has been injured in weeks. Ronon and Teyla seem happy, Rodney and John are good, finally, and while he couldn’t travel to Earth this year, earlier he had a pleasant long-longer-longest-distance-call with Jeannie.

In short, everything is as close to perfect as things come, so naturally, Rodney feels a lump of dread form in his stomach when a nervous-looking Lorne sidles up to their table.

“What’s up, Major?” John asks good-naturedly. He hasn’t been eating as much as Rodney or Ronon, but he’s in as much of a good mood as the rest of them.

“Sir,” says Lorne, righting himself up in a way he hasn’t done in front of John in years. “Dr. McKay.”
“What,” Rodney says, wariness sliding into irritation now. “Out with it!”

Lorne seems to stand straighter still, looks at John again, who isn’t smiling anymore, leaning forward in his seat. “Sir,” he repeats, “Dr. McKay. We, that is, the marines and airmen and… well, basically, all the soldiers, we got you something.”

It’s then that Rodney notices that Major Teldy, Sergeant Mehra, Lieutenant Gordon and basically every member of the military are watching them. The scientists are quickly catching on, too, and soon they’re at the center of attention of everyone in the room.

“Well, what is it?” he asks impatiently. He tries not to show it, but he’s a little relieved – if it’s a present, it’s a joke at worst, but whatever is happening, it’s nothing bad.

Clearing his throat, Lorne reaches inside his uniform jacket and, a little more clumsily than he probably would have liked, produces a mistletoe.

Rodney stares at it. Then he cuts a quick look at John, who is staring at the thing in Lorne’s hand, too.

“We just,” says Lorne, “well, since last week it’s only a matter of time, so, basically, we just wanted to tell you we know.”

John is looking at all the soldiers in the room now, who are sitting up straighter but grinning rather madly, too.

For once, Rodney has no idea what to say.

Eventually, John takes a deep breath and tells Lorne, “Well, in that case, Major, would you do the honor?”

Tension seeping out of his stance, Lorne takes another step closer to them and holds the mistletoe up high over their heads. “Move a bit so they can see,” Ronon suggests, and he does. From across the room, Rodney can hear Miko giggling.

“Wait a minute,” he protests, “this is not how this is mmmmmpf…”

John’s lips are warm and familiar against his own. So is the faint stubble scratching at his cheek as John goes to town.

The knowledge that all of Atlantis is watching is not. Clutching at John’s arms so he doesn’t lose his balance, Rodney decides that it’s awesome.

Precedent

altyronsmaker — Fri, 24 Dec 2010 04:50:09 GMT

Okay, yeah. I joined in the fray. And this is so much wish fulfillment. They're, like, not even recognizable, but dammit, I imagine John would so do this after a few years of being all secretive with Rodney!

Title: Precedent
Summary: The mess hall was alive with chatter in a way it hadn’t ever been before. John smiled to himself at the charged atmosphere.

“Sheppard! Have you seen this?”

John smiled behind his Golf Digest. He’d seen it. He’d also been waiting for Rodney to come barging into his quarters with his usual bluster.

He wasn’t disappointed.

Schooling his features, he curled one corner of his magazine down and cocked an eyebrow. “Seen what, McKay?”

Rodney hefted a tablet in one hand and made a triumphant noise. “Oh. Of course you haven’t. I’m surprised you’ve seen anything this early besides the backs of your eyelids, Colonel.” Handing John the tablet to read, Rodney crossed his arms over his chest, smug grin lighting his features. “I knew eventually your closeted country would join the rest of the civilized world.”

John barely glanced at the tablet. “Oh. That.” He picked up his magazine and snapped it open. “Got an email about it months ago. Brass wanted to poll the servicemen.”

“You…” Rodney huffed. “Oh. Well. I guess I’ll just leave you to it, then.”

Rodney sniffed and picked up his tablet. When he got to the door, John said, “Lunch later?”

Sighing, Rodney nodded. “Sure. Mess, 1300?”

John glanced up at him, small smile making the corners of his eyes crinkle. “It’s a date.”

Rodney frowned at him, confused, but gave a nod of acknowledgment.

*****
The mess hall was alive with chatter in a way it hadn’t ever been before. John smiled to himself at the charged atmosphere.

He ambled over to the serving line, and grabbed his usual lunch, then headed over to the one last empty table over by the windows to wait for Rodney.

Ronon and Teyla came in and he waved them over.

Teyla sat down, her face lit with a smile, though she seemed confused as well. “Good afternoon, John,” she said.

“Teyla. How’s it going?”

“It is going fine, thank you for asking.” She glanced around the mess hall. “It seems oddly busy in here today.”

“Yeah, Sheppard,” Ronon said. “What’s up?”

John shrugged, and picked up his sandwich. Casually, he said, “The military just got some news, is all.”

Ronon cocked an eyebrow as he and Teyla shared a look.

“News?”

John shrugged. “Something that’s been a long time coming.” He frowned and looked over Ronon’s shoulder to the door. “You guys seen McKay?”

Just then the crowd fell silent and there was the rustle of heads turning toward the entrance. McKay and Zelenka were bickering back and forth, totally oblivious to the sudden silence of the dining room.

John smiled and stood. “Excuse me,guys, I gotta...” he said, and left Teyla and Ronon watching him curiously as he strode over to meet Rodney and Radek.

“Sheppard,” Rodney said.

“Hey, Rodney.” John stopped in front of them. His cheek ached with the need to grin, but he kept his expression schooled in a cool half smile.

Radek looked back and forth between them, muttered something that sounded like, “Finally,” and moved over to the serving line, leaving John and Rodney alone in the crowded dining room.

John reached up and placed his hand along the back of Rodney’s neck.

Rodney balked. “Sheppard – John,” he whispered, “What are you doing?”

Anticipation hung in the air. John could feel it skittering along his skin. He knew every single eye in that room was on them, but he really didn’t care. There wasn’t anything anyone could to do him anymore. No more furtive trips down the hallways, avoiding the patrols. No more fudging the security cameras in Rodney’s lab. No more secret meetings or clandestine trysts in abandoned labs. He could do, out in the open, all the things he’d had to keep covert.

John pulled Rodney to him, and felt the collective intake of breath in the mess hall. “I’m setting a precedent,” he said, and slid his mouth over Rodney’s.

The kiss was one sided, Rodney shocked into stillness at first, then he shivered beneath John’s hand, and opened his mouth under John’s lips and then tongues were sliding against one another, and Rodney pressed himself into John’s body, letting his arms go around John’s waist. He curled his fists into John’s t-shirt, and squeezed John to him.

They kissed and kissed, twisting into it, trying to find the perfect angles, the perfect positions. It was bliss.

A dull roar surrounded them, eventually penetrating the bubble of privacy they’d formed, and John pulled away from Rodney, chuckling lightly at Rodney’s dazed expression.

“Come on, Rodney, let’s eat.”

If either of them noticed the exchange of goods and the disgruntled faces of those paying up, well, they didn’t comment on it.

Muppet Christmas

melagan — Thu, 23 Dec 2010 17:09:40 GMT

title: Muppet Christmas
author:melagan
rating: PG
word count: 611
beta: em_kellesvig
mistakes=mine

It was team night two days before Christmas and things weren’t working out quite like John had planned.

The Muppet Christmas movie was queued and ready and the popcorn balls sat on their Santa plate, a special order from the mess. Even Johnny Cash sported a Christmas bow made out of wrapping paper and gently taped to the poster.

Only his team had ducked out on him. Ronon was putting every spare minute into his gift for Amelia, and by all accounts, had suddenly been hit with artistic inspiration. Teyla wasn’t coming either. She’d bowed out with the excuse of visiting the mainland for some Athosian party. Well, fuck. Rodney wasn’t even….

The door opened and McKay stood there with a huge grin.

“John! Wait until you see this!” Rodney held out a small red racer with an old fashion key-wind. A huge bright yellow key stuck out of the back. “Do you think Torren John will like it?”

“That is so cool, McKay. Did you make it?” John did think the toy was cool but what made him bounce on his toes was that Rodney was here. Of course, he could depend on McKay. That’s what they did, depended on each other, how could have he forgotten that even for a minute.

“You have the Muppet Christmas movie? I haven’t seen that in years.” Rodney settled himself on the couch. “Well, c’mon – ohhh, popcorn balls.”

“Okay, okay. You’re worse than a kid,” John laughed. “Go ahead and hit play.”

Rodney sat there beaming up at him. He was saying something about Miss Piggy but John wasn’t really paying attention. Rodney’s sweater was looked soft – touchable. His blue jeans stretched over solid thighs and with his legs parted John couldn’t help notice how they hugged Rodney’s cock and balls.

John blinked. Okay, that’s not the sort of package he was supposed to be thinking about. Not even if it did look damn good.

“John?” Are you going to sit down or watch the whole movie standing up?”

“I’m sitting, move over, McKay. What’s in the backpack?”

“Finally noticed that, did you?”

Rodney smiled up at him and John couldn’t help wonder what his mouth would taste like. He inched closer and when Rodney didn’t move away, he moved close enough that their thighs were touching. The warmth almost took his breath away.

He found himself fascinated by Rodney’s eyelashes. They were so close he could count the individual hairs. “Show me.” John husked, low and soft, his lips almost brushing Rodney’s cheek. God, he was in so much trouble with no idea how to put the brakes on.

Rodney’s hands were fumbling, clumsy like they never were, and he sounded short of breath.

“Here.”

“Two more?” John looked the racers that Rodney held in his hands. Except for the colors, they looked just like Torren’s. Then he grinned. “Cool.”

“I thought we should get to play…um, show…er, teach, we can teach him…because we’re family and…”

“Yes. Exactly. Uncle John and Rodney.” John was nodding now. Somehow, in the process, his arm slid over Rodney’s shoulders and stayed there. “It’s perfect.”

Rodney’s mouth was close, his lips were parted, and John caught a glimpse of his pretty, pink tongue.

~~~

Miss Piggy never gave up. She knew what she wanted and she’d go through a snowstorm in style to go get her frog.

“Oink, oink, Rodney,” John said, and he brought their mouths together in a kiss. He sighed in relief when Rodney’s hand came up and curled into his hair, pulling him closer.

Rodney gave a soft hum of contentment and John could have sworn it sounded suspiciously like –

“Ribb-it. Ribb-it.”

Fic: Four Things Rodney Did for John

kristen999 — Thu, 23 Dec 2010 15:04:07 GMT

Title: “Four Things Rodney Did For John That John Never Knew About (And One That He Did).”
Author:kristen999
Word Count: 2,000—
Notes: Written for neevebrody. Merry Christmas!

Thank you to em_kellesvig for the swift, wonderful beta and to sholio for being a sounding board.

----

In the early days of the expedition, in between mapping the city, scouring every Podunk town for ZPMs, and repairing ancient tech with silly putty and pantyhose—Rodney would go down to the firing range and attempt shooting a gun.

He kept the target in his room, the unmarred paper a reminder of how much practice he needed.

“Don't start off so far, Doc,” Ford would tell him. “Ten meters is a respectable distance.”

“Chances are you'll be attacked at close-range,” Stackhouse lectured. “And it’d help if you didn’t drop it.”

But he dropped the weapon all the time, the kickback scaring the crap out of him, or jarring his wrist.

For every bruise and strain, he vowed not to waste his precious time; or better yet, his dexterity. Then there’d been an off-word incident with a ten-thousand-year-old Wraith and he returned to the range and tried again.

After several months, the sides and bottom of the wrinkled paper target was layered with holes.

“Not bad, Doc,” a marine complimented.

While the grunts debated headshots, Rodney took a more practical approach. It was physics after all. Distance between shooter and target, caliber of ammunition, and number of shots fired. His goal was to aim straight and shoot a spray of bullets, increasing the chance of hitting something.

Of course, there was a huge difference between paper and flesh and bone, and if he thought about that too much, he'd run to the trashcan and vomit.

One day while finishing a trade agreement, his team walked right into a Genii ambush. Forget good, old-fashioned sneers, or threats. The Genii were out for blood, still supremely pissed over losing sixty men to a failed invasion.

Outnumbered and pinned down. Sheppard yelled, “I'll draw away their fire. As soon as you see your chance, head to the gate!”

A run through the forest and a barrage of bullets later, Rodney was dialing the DHD with Sheppard hot on their heels, yelling, “Go, go!”

Rodney was one step away from entering the wormhole when he saw one of the Genii sneak up behind Sheppard at take aim. “Gun!” he screamed, yanking out his Beretta and squeezing the trigger until the weapon clicked empty.

“Move it!” Sheppard yelled and they went tumbling through the gate.

During dinner, when Rodney's mouth was filled with meatloaf, Sheppard chose that moment to say, “Thanks, for what you did on the planet. That was a real lucky shot.”

Ford opened his mouth to blabber about Rodney’s late night practice, but Rodney kicked him under the table and said instead. “Thanks, but perhaps next time, try not being such a hero.”

-----

Rodney didn't care about driving tiny, white balls off the pier, and while this particular sport involved energy, mass, and acceleration, those principles had better applications. The one thing worse than wasting time on golfing was the money spent for equipment. Unless clubs could cook you breakfast, why should anyone spend that much on them?

When Lorne showed up at his doorstep babbling about a game gone array and how said clubs had become makeshift swords in a mock battle. Rodney still didn't care.

“But they were Colonel Sheppard's.”

It was times like these when Rodney wished for the medieval ways of punishing people for misconduct and other idiotic things. “I'm taking a jumper and you're coming with me.”

“Seriously?” Lorne gaped. “I was hoping you’d tell me what would be a good bribe? The colonel's already caught up on all his paperwork for the month.”

“Maybe you should have thought of that before doing live action role playing on the pier.”

The whole idea of going under millions of metric tons of ocean—again—was on the same list as fun things like tonguing a wraith and annual physicals.

Rodney paused outside the hatch, palms sweaty, heart pounding, and tried not to think what he was about to do.

“You sure about this, Doc?” Lorne wondered for the third or fourth time.

“The clubs are made of titanium; considering there’s practically nil of that mineral on the ocean surface, it shouldn’t take long locating it.”

Lorne raised an eyebrow. “And retrieval?”

Waving a hand in annoyance, Rodney snorted. “Please. I've been waiting for an excuse to test out the new robotic arms I installed on Jumper Three months ago.”

The search for two lone golf clubs scattered about by currents stretched two hours too long. Lorne never once asked why this mission was so important; he probably went along just to humor the guy responsible for saving his ass on a regular basis.

With an ‘aha’ and twenty minutes of the worse video game simulation program known to man, the automated arms worked and Operation Save Sheppard’s Clubs was successful.

With the mission complete, Rodney ushered Lorne away to go cause havoc elsewhere and sat down to wipe the clubs clean of silica and stringy plankton. Sighing, thanking all that was holy for surviving another dive under the ocean, he slipped the clubs back inside the tattered, black leather satchel.

Hefting the heavy thing over his back, he situated the gear where Sheppard left it for practice inside a large container he kept on the pier. With one final look, Rodney rubbed his fingers over the plastic tag used for traveling abroad.

Inside the cracked plastic it read- John, happy fifteenth birthday. Love, Dad.

–----

The arrival of the Daedalus always meant supplies and bleary-eyed newbies bumbling about the halls like high school freshmen. Having fresh stocks of coffee, the latest DVDs, and porn brought a smile to Rodney's face, but nothing compared to the thrill of mail time. With grabby hands of glee, he didn't wait to tear-open his sister's care package, knowing it would be filled with specially freeze-dried brownies and cookies, not to mention much-needed re-supplies of socks and underwear.

Sam watched with a bemused smile. “With the midway station out of commission, these little gifts from home take on a whole new meaning.”

“Yeah, well, it's nothing compared to the first year we were here,” Rodney replied, hardly paying her attention.

Clearing her throat, Sam fingered another small parcel. “So, there's this strange standing order regarding items sent to Colonel Sheppard from the Secretary of the Air Force?”

“Oh, um. Yeah.” Taking the package, he placed it inside his own and closed the box. “Thanks.”

“I know what’s inside the box, Rodney. Dr. Weir suggested it for him, but I’m John’s CO now.”

“Yeah, well Sheppard refuses them and Elizabeth and I worked out an arrangement.”

His answer wasn't what Sam expected, but she didn't push the issue further.

Carrying the package to his quarters, Rodney unwrapped it, and gently opened the black case, revealing a bronze medallion with an eagle with its wings upraised, standing upon two curving branches of laurel. Above and behind the eagle was a five-pointed star. Flipping the medal over, Rodney read the words "United States of America" and "Meritorious Service."

Sighing, Rodney pulled out a mahogany box and placed it with John's Silver Star and other medals.

Maybe one day, when John didn't view them as reminders for all the times he'd failed, Rodney would give them to him.

–----

“Rod'y?” John whispered.

“Shhhsh, yeah, I'm here,” he replied, wrapping his arms tighter around him.

“I...I can't see.”

“Neither can I, so we're even in that regard.”

Being locked inside a pitch-black cell set off all kinds of terror for him, but Rodney couldn't succumb to it. Sure, it'd be a hell of lot easier to be freaked the fucked out, but those assholes shot John up with enough drugs that he hadn't stopped hallucinating since.

“No!” John screamed, bucking and squirming with so much strength, Rodney held on for dear life.

“Whatever you see or hear, it's not there,” he whispered in his ear. “I promise.” John went slack in his arms, and Rodney thanked whatever higher power was looking after them for small mercies. The last time he'd released John, the colonel had crawled away and panicked so badly, it was miracle he hadn't stroked out.

There was no way he'd let him go again. Stroking his sweat slicked hair, Rodney offered reassurances, entwining his fingers with John's. “I've got you.”

Minutes, hours, days: who really knew how long they'd been left to rot in their cell, but when John started shaking again, Rodney squeezed his hands until he stilled.

A squad of marines, led by Teyla and Ronon, finally showed up after taking their sweet time to rescue them. Upon witnessing the scene before them, both teammates exacted all kinds of hell on those responsible for what happened.

After a post mission check-up and really bland infirmary food, Rodney waited with Teyla and Ronon in chairs around John's bed. It took way too long for the mini-pharmacy to be flushed out of John's system, and early the following morning, they were greeted by a pair of familiar hazel eyes.

“Hey?”

“It's about time you woke up,” Rodney replied with only slightly less bite to his usual bark. “How do you feel?”

Running a hand through his mussed hair, John groaned. “Like I got hit by a truck. What happened?”

“You don't remember?” Teyla asked.

“No.” Sitting up straighter in bed and wincing, John settled for turning his head in Rodney’s direction. “Do you mind filling me in?”

Rolling his eyes, Rodney sighed dramatically. “We were captured. You were drugged. Same old same old.”

“Drugged? Did I do anything...”

“You slept most of the time and recited really bad poetry, but for the most part, it was fairly boring,” Rodney answered, much to John's relief.

–-----

On Rodney's birthday, he went to a planet with the most beautiful green skies and fields of lavender and gold. Of course, such a wonderful world had to be filled with a paranoid, distrustful population armed with energy weapons.

When the head guy with an unpronounceable name tried to shoot John, Rodney pushed him out of the way and got zapped. The world spun in an array of fantastic colors and he woke up to a penlight and really annoying equipment. After some monitoring and a battery of tests, he was released and went straight to his quarters for a nap.

He hadn't expected to find John waiting for him outside his door. “Whatever you want, it can wait. I have an appointment with my bed.”

But John followed inside, snagged his arm and what was with the manhandling after nearly having his brain fried? “Hey,” he growled.

“You jumped in front of me,” John accused.

“No, I pushed you away.” Staring where John's long fingers were wrapped around his bicep, Rodney lost part of his voice. “Um...”

But John didn't let go. “I thought...for a second I was sure you were...”

“I'm perfectly alive, a bit frayed on the edges,” Rodney smiled and stared at those lovely fingers planted on his skin.

Releasing his grip, John slid his hand across Rodney's shoulder and rested it at the nape of his neck. “Don't ever do that again.”

And before Rodney could utter 'what the hell?” John pulled him close, their bodies brushing each other as warm lips met his. Shock and endorphins coursing through him, Rodney dug his fingers into the back of John's shoulders. “Finally,” he growled, before taking John's mouth for a longer, heart-pounding, second kiss.

Reeling and a bit lightheaded, Rodney buried his forehead into John's chest, breathing in sweat and earth, and the slight scent of gun oil. Pulling his head away, he looked wet his lips. “What...I mean...why? It's not like we both haven't almost died before.”

Panting slightly from adrenaline, his cheeks and tips of his ears slightly pink, John shook his head. “I wasn't sure if you...that is...”

“Yes, since...” Rodney swallowed. “For longer than you think.”

Smiling, John slid his fingers around Rodney's waist. “Then we shouldn't waste another minute.”

“No, let's not do that,” Rodney grinned and went for three for three.

DADT repeal

rissabby — Thu, 23 Dec 2010 03:34:19 GMT

In case you have heard; Wednesday morning December 22, 2010, the US President Barak Obama signed the DADT repeal bill. There are still a lot of housekeeping details before implementation, but this is one of the big moments.

Remember after the election, how exhilarating it was to hear the President say that DADT repeal was a matter of "when" and not "if"? And now... it's now. \o/

---------------------

Lt Colonel John Sheppard got email via data burst today. It read, in part:

"The implementation and certification process will not happen immediately; it will take time. Meanwhile, the current law remains in effect. All Air Force members should conduct themselves accordingly."

Air Force Chief of Staff Gen. Norton Schwartz*

John decided to conduct himself to a day off and went to find Rodney. He discovered that it's surprisingly difficult to kiss when you can't stop smiling.

* real life quote

The Last Kisses

elayna88 — Tue, 21 Dec 2010 04:39:47 GMT

Every time McSmooch comes up, I think I should write something happy and fluffy for it. This isn't that fic.

Title: The Last Kisses
Author: elayna88
Rating: G
Warning: Major character death, angst
Word Count: ~460
A/N: High School Confidential 'verse, and it may not make sense as a stand-alone. All mistakes are mine.

John's raspy breath was painful to hear and feel. Rodney stroked his chest soothingly, wishing he could do more. Under his fingers, John's chest shifted, moved, as he struggled to sit up.

Tucking an arm under him to help, Rodney asked, "John? Do you need something? Can I get you - ?"

"I can't sleep," John said, his voice decidedly cranky. "I want to sit on the porch."

"Yes, fine. Just let me help you." Rodney fussed, finding their slippers and robes, his knees creaking as he bent to put John's slippers on him, and then John had to tug him up. He laughed weakly, sadly, leaning against his husband.

John hugged him, his arms no longer as strong as they once were, but his embrace as desired as always. "We got old."

"Yes, and you're still an early riser." Rodney caught his hand. "Let's watch the sunrise."

They shuffled down the hallway, the dogs whining from their beds. "Come on." John waved toward them, and they leaped up, following them outside. John and Rodney sat on the porch swing, the dogs at their feet, watching the sun rise slowly over the ocean. "It's beautiful," John said, before he took Rodney's face in his hands, kissing him, firmly, lingeringly.

Rodney moaned into his mouth, John's ability to make him melt undiminished by time. They'd had an amazing 90 years together, and he had never tired of John's kisses, of his touch, of the way John both owned and worshipped his body.

John's fingers drifted over Rodney's collar, the one he'd had made to celebrate their 50th anniversary, crafted from Athosian gold, Earth sapphires on each side of the words 'John Sheppard' inscribed in the middle. "You're beautiful."

Rodney gave a snort. "I see your eyesight has finally gone." Even with all white hair, lined skin and age spots, John was the beautiful one.

"I'd say I was sorry – "

"But you know I'm not. We're together, always."

John sighed, laying his head on Rodney's shoulder. Their hands rested on each other's knees as dawn turned into morning. They listened to the sound of the ocean and the occasional yip from the dogs, not needing to talk. Rodney felt when it happened, the sudden loss and coldness, gasping a little at the pain. He fumbled in his robe pocket, finding his communicator, tapping on 'Tim' in the contacts list and texting, "Come now."

He turned his head slightly, pressing a kiss against the top of John's head. The communicator dropped from his hand as he followed John for the last time.

Sparks

asyouleft — Tue, 21 Dec 2010 03:34:21 GMT

Title: Sparks
Author: asyouleft
Rating: G
Word Count: 867
A/N: All mistakes are belonging to me. I also couldn't think of a very cute line for the ending, so yeah, sort of abrupt and could be better.

“This is awkward,” Rodney said, as soon as John had out of the shower and back into his bedroom. Rodney was laying in John’s bed wearing his normal sweat pants and tee shirt for bed. John had his track pants on, no shirt and was carding the towel through his hair one more time.

“Awkward? He questioned, he finished with his hair and tossed the towel back onto the bathroom, it slide across the floor and stopped somewhere in the middle. There would be no doubt in his mind, when Rodney saw it in the morning he’d throw a fit about the floor getting too wet.

“You know,” Rodney said, he sort of waved his hands around, gesturing at the space between where he sat on the bed and where John stood besides it, “between us.”

“Okay.” John said in an extra slow draw he only reserved for when Rodney was explaining something so advance, John was lost within seconds.

Rodney furrowed his eyebrows at him, made a little a huff sound and crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s awkward because you know, now what we do isn’t.. you know, illegal or anything.”

John hovered at the side of the bed for a minute before climbing in besides Rodney. It was a warm night in the city, John’s comforter was bunched up at the end of the bed, it left him sitting in the bed, exposed. “So? You’re not happy DADT was repealed? You’d rather, what? Have to sneak around the rest of our lives?”

“No! You know how happy I am about this, John, I really am.” Rodney said quickly, hands up in a defensive manner and John could feel himself slowly relax again. He knew Rodney was happy about the repeal, he celebrated with John, he outed himself with John right there in the mess hall by simply grabbing his hand and not caring who saw. But, John realized, that Rodney had yet to actually kiss him at all since the announcement. “Now it just feels like we have no reason… I mean, we have a reason to be us, I just mean, that we don’t have that element of.. Of. Well, you know.”

“Then what, McKay? Explain this to me, because it’s not really sound all that great from my end.”

“I don’t know, there was always this element of sneaking around, of being rebels and now… well, now it’s just normal.”

“Normal? I don’t think anything we do both in our private lives and in our jobs can be considered normal, McKay.”

Rodney had the nerve to look sort of annoyed with John. “Not what I meant. I just mean are we sure things will still be… good between us? There‘s so much building up to his moment, we‘ve waited a long time for this.. I just don‘t want things not to end up… special.”

“What you mean is, now that we don’t have to keep it a secret, you don’t think we’ll have sparks?”

Rodney looked away at the bedside table for a moment before turning his head back to John. “I guess. I mean, I don’t know. You like ferries wheels and fast cars, you like that sort of suspenseful and high adrenaline life and stuff.”

John sighed and moved quickly, bringing himself over and straddling Rodney’s legs. Rodney didn’t move, didn’t push John away but he certainly didn’t look like he was all that eager to kiss John or anything.

So John took it upon himself to lean over and kiss Rodney. He didn’t tilt his head at first, so their noses awkwardly bumped before John adjusted. When their lips met he closed his eyes as tight as he could and put everything he was feeling into the press of his lips against Rodney’s. He hoped he was telling him how much he loved him, how much having to hide their relationship was hard on him and now, how wonderful life could be for the two of them, now that things could be out in the open. He brought his hands up to Rodney’s face, holding him in place against him, showing him that no matter what, he always belonged to John. The kiss was soft, sweet and it made something in John’s chest come loose a little, especially when Rodney’s hands cradled into his hair as the over curled underneath the waist of his pants.

He pulled away before the kiss deepened and look straight into Rodney’s eyes.

“Was there enough of a spark for you now?” he asked, his voice coming out far too husky.

Rodney studied him for a moment, his face hiding absolutely nothing in terms of how he felt about the situation. John could feel himself grinning despite his best efforts.

“I don’t know,” Rodney said, lopsided grin trying to balance itself out into a full blown grin, “I’m a scientist, I have to gather the appropriate data now. Just because that kiss happened to spark doesn’t mean the other legal kisses will give the same value.”

“Oh, I see. Well it’s in the name of science, we better have as many legal kisses as possible.” John replied back, smiling into the next kiss.

A Kiss so Sweet

melagan — Mon, 20 Dec 2010 23:30:25 GMT

Author: melagan
Rating: G
Word Count:175
Extra special thanks to em_kellesvig
mistakes=mine

Something gentle, something soft, and so not what Rodney was expecting. If he’d thought about it -- and admittedly, he had -- this is not at all how he imagined Lt. Colonel John Sheppard would kiss. Passion, hunger, desperate need -- those were sort of things Rodney had thought about.

What he’d never expected was a picnic with John on the mainland on a day the sky was the clearest blue he’d ever seen. Or that John would reach out and cup his chin with a sparkle in his eyes that was all light-hearted joy.

John’s mouth teased at his and Rodney opened his mouth a little wider and there it was – easy, so unimaginably easy -- the slide of John’s tongue against his own with a gentleness that was almost Rodney’s undoing. He gripped John’s shirt, curling his fingers into the soft, navy cotton, desperate for something to hang on to as his knees trembled under the tenderness of John’s kiss.

The one thing he did have right: being kissed by John was devastating.

Fic: Memories of Afghanistan

squidgiepdx — Sun, 19 Dec 2010 21:06:36 GMT

Fic: Memories of Afghanistan
Author: squidgiepdx
Rating: PG for boy kissing J
Word Count: 835ish
A/N: I saw sheafrotherdon 's note about mcsmooch being open for business now that DADT repeal has passed the Congress. This is what popped into my head. Unbetad (though I employed the elderwitty method of beta by going, "Okay, now what would she think of this?" after finishing - 'cause she's awesome). I know this is a little dark, with hope at the end, but that's how I feel right now. A little dark, but I know things are getting better. Also, I've never posted to mcsmooch before - hopefully I haven't messed anything up in doing this (admins, please let me know!).
Disclaimer: I own nothing but happy, happy, dirty thoughts.

~*~*~

"Wow... It's finally over."

The look on John's face makes Rodney tilt his head to the side, questioning the unhappiness that suddenly instills itself over his usually even-keeled team leader. "Colonel?"

A couple of beats later, John leaves the memories of his past, and his attention rejoins Rodney, Teyla, and Ronon at their usual table in the mess. "Oh, um," John starts, pushing his feelings down deep while regaining, what is to him, normality. "Don't Ask, Don't Tell was repealed. Finally." He looks around the table, meeting the eyes of his teammates. "Going to the President's desk next week. Things may...may change a bit around here."

"This is wonderful news, John," Teyla says evenly. After studying John, she cocks her head to the side and adds, "So why is it you still appear unhappy?"

Sheppard looks around, unaware of the emotions still displayed markedly across his face. Ronon looks at him through half-lidded eyes, and Rodney is posed with a forkful of meat-of-the-day hovering near his mouth. "It's... It's nothing. Really." He tries to push a little more, but he'd been through too much with his team. They know him almost as well as he knows himself. Rodney's strong hand finds its way to his shoulder, while Teyla grasps one of John's hands. Ronon just nods, though the feeling implied was as warm as an embrace. "I, uhh...," he starts, but immediately follows up with, "I'm not so good at this."

Teyla squeezes his hand, while Rodney runs his hand up and down Sheppard's back, warmth radiating through the thin cotton of Sheppard's ever-present black tee shirt, all the while ignoring the boundaries of personal space as only Rodney can. "John?"

"I, uhh... I was once...involved. With a soldier." The break in his voice was barely noticeable. He looks around the table, eyes only greeted by the warmth of his friends. "He was umm," he steals a look at Rodney, "Canadian, actually." He watches a smile blaze across Rodney's face, eyes sparking back at him. "Part of the JTF Air Wing. That's how we met." John wipes at his eyes, unaware how powerful the memories coming back are. "We... We went on a joint recon once. Both took troops out in Hercules transports to a remote province. Had a couple'a days of just waiting to hear back, so we ended up spending a lot of time together at the base. Just spent time talking, getting to know each other. It's like we had this...this...connection, you know?" His team members nod back at him, and Rodney throws in an extra squeeze. "Anyway, we just...clicked. Spent as much time together as we could. I always requested those JTF recons, because I knew he'd be there."

"What was his name?" Ronon asks, voice barely a hint of the gruff it usually held.

"Sammy. Samuel Turenne." John fumbles with the pronunciation.

"Aah, Québécois," Rodney offers, pulling off the French pronunciation without a hitch.

"Oui," John spits out in his heaviest American drawl, quickly followed by a morose smile. "Anyway... It was the Military. You know, no privacy. No nothin'. We just had those recon 'weekends'. But we made the most of them. Or at least, you know, as much as you can in a war zone."

"What happened to him, John?" Teyla asks evenly.

"He, uhh..." John looks down at the table, hands fidgeting away from Teyla's. "We landed to pick up our soldiers after a recon. Well," he fights the crack in his voice, "there was some enemy fire following our guys... He. He didn't make it." Rodney's hand ventures from John's back to his thigh, offering a comforting squeeze. After a few seconds, he adds, "The connection Sammy and I had... I never had that with Nancy. I never felt that before. With anyone. And, uh... I haven't felt it since."

John feels Rodney's hand suddenly freeze and start to pull away, so he captures it with his own. "Well, maybe...once." He looks deep into Rodney's eyes. "Just once more." His eyes convey what his voice can't, and he feels Rodney turn his hand, fingers entangling with is own. Eyes locked, John leans forward and captures Rodney's mouth, planting a small, tentative kiss before he feels Rodney's hand at the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Tongues entwine with Rodney making mewling noises, which John recognizes as the same noise Rodney uses when they break into the secret stash of molten lava chocolate cakes the baker keeps for special occasions.

They ignore the world around them until they hear the clasp of Ronon's hands, followed with, "'Bout fucking time!", and they break apart, looking around the room sheepishly.

Leaning together, forehead to forehead, John gazes into the blue pools of Rodney's eyes. "Yeah, buddy," he offers back to Ronon, "it sure is." He stands, oblivious to the rest of the room, then pulls Rodney up. He takes Rodney's hand in his and leads them out of the cafeteria.

mcsmooch is open for business!

sheafrotherdon — Sun, 19 Dec 2010 18:35:24 GMT

In celebration of the congressional repeal of Don't Ask, Don't Tell (the utterly BONKERS policy that saw 14,000 members of the U.S. military dismissed from service because they were gay in the last 17 years):

IT'S KISSING TIME.

Come one, come all, bring your John, your Rodney, and your kisses. DADT kisses are awesome, but all kisses are welcome! KISS IT UP, PEOPLE!

This round of mcsmooch will close on Monday, January 2, 2011.

Beer Me

dogeared — Wed, 05 May 2010 02:57:29 GMT

John finds Rodney in the mess, head down on the tabletop, making a low, pathetic noise that sounds like "Maaaaaaaaah." He slides into his spot carefully, trying not to scrape his chair or jostle the table or set down his tray too hard, and Rodney doesn't give him the stink-eye, so he figures he must've been successful.

"You know what Ronon said to me, the beer-pushing bastard? 'Told you, McKay.' Oh, yes, if by 'told me' he means he handed me another pint when I emptied the first one! Damn you, delicious beers of P35-488," Rodney says, all without lifting his head from the table.

John tsks sympathetically and slides one of the plates over to Rodney's side.

"Hangover special," he sing-songs as Rodney looks up and reaches for it, inspecting it before taking an enormous bite: tomatoes and bacon and eggs and cheese sandwiched between two buttery slices of toast.

"I wasn't sure I'd ever be hungry again, but yum," he says around his mouthful.

"Coffee?" John slides that over, too, and it only takes the one cup for Rodney's gaze to sharpen, his expression shifting from bleary to keen.

"How come you don't have a hangover?"

John slouches in his chair and hooks an arm around the back. "Someone had to look out for you, buddy."

"Not very well," Rodney grumbles, "except. Oh." He goes a little pink, and John wonders if he's remembering John's arm tight around his shoulders, holding him steady while Rodney hummed happily; John teasing him about walking in a straight line, keeping their feet from tangling and helping Rodney back to the 'jumper. If he's remembering John settling him into the co-pilot's chair, and the way he leaned in and leaned more, all the way into John's space, and closed his eyes and aimed a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss that landed on John's cheek. If he's remembering the two of them laughing, and John's palms warm against his neck before John kissed him, aim true in spite of what Rodney likes to say about his navigation skills, kissed him fond and scared and hopeful, so hopeful, and rounded up the rest of the team and got them home safe so that he and Rodney could have this morning—so that they can have this, and whatever comes next.

Fic: Witness

asyouleft — Mon, 03 May 2010 16:12:09 GMT

Title: Witness
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 999 (that's an awesome word total)
Summary: There was no mention of the gay personal on Atlantis, but the fact that Doctor McKay and Colonel Sheppard were together, was no secret.
A/N: I never write in 1st person, like ever, but I like fics like this and this one seemed to just write itself for me. Not betad, all mistakes are my own (and I'm sure there is a lot).

When I was transferred to Atlantis, Don't Ask Don't Tell had already been revoked for a couple of months. In the welcoming packet handed out to us scientist and the Marines alike, there was a whole paragraph covering the retraction and a statement that Atlantis was a gay/lesbian/transgender.. basically anything, friendly community. There was no mention of the gay personnel on Atlantis, but the fact that Doctor McKay and Colonel Sheppard were together, was no secret.

I didn't believe it right away, not really. I'd seen them together on several occasions and there were definite moments where I could see the two of them together, but I never saw any real affection besides hands on backs and shoulders and seemingly fleeting touches. I never knew if it was because they still thought it had to be a secret or if neither were truly fond of public displays of affection. I'd hear stories in the lab about moments people caught between the two of them. How once when Doctor McKay was in a tiny explosion on Atlantis, the Colonel had rushed to his side the second he was free and dragged him off into an unused hallway. Unbeknownst to them Doctor Harvey saw the Colonel running his hands over Doctor McKay, as if he was checking to make sure he was completely whole.

I would have almost spent my entire time on Atlantis under the impression that Doctor McKay and Colonel Sheppard were nothing more than best friends if I hadn't been there to see it. Doctor McKay had been off world with other scientists on MX-7313 looking over an outpost they'd discovered there when he'd gotten kidnapped. He'd been missing for almost two weeks before he found his way back to Atlantis. I never got the real full story as of what happened to him, there's gossip but his experience never really fell into that category.

What I was there for, was his return. I'd been sitting in the gate room, helping Doctor Zelenka work on a wayward control panel, when the incoming wormhole sound went off. I didn't know where Colonel Sheppard came from, but he was running down the stairs before I even stood up fully. Chuck had confirmed it was without a IDC but the Colonel was yelling for him to lower the shield. Several Marines were standing at the sides of the gate, waiting to fire in case it wasn't Doctor McKay. I'll admit I was concerned that it would end badly but my trust in the Colonel was well given and I wanted Doctor McKay back as much as any else did too.

Chuck had lowered the gate, no sooner after he did, then did Doctor McKay come limping back through the gate. He was without his uniform, bare chested, barefooted, just wearing tattered black pants. I couldn't see him very clearly, but he looked as if he hadn't showered in the entire time he was gone. He was limping heavily and I could see his mouth moving but for once his voice did not carry far enough for anyone beyond the Colonel and a few of the Marines to hear.

The Colonel was standing still but for a moment and then he was seemingly all over Doctor McKay. At first I thought he was just holding him up, but then I dared to take a step closer to the railing and I saw what was really happening. Doctor McKay was leaning on him heavily, his hands clutching the side of Colonel Sheppard's shirt, while the Colonel's hands were framing Doctor McKay's face a few inches in front of his own. One of the Marine had already called for a med team and I could hear the sound of a gurney being wheeled down the hallway.

Before it arrived, Colonel Sheppard leaned his forehead against Doctor McKay's, something I'd seen happen between the Athosians several time. But this one ended slightly differently, because Colonel Sheppard leaned in and kissed Doctor McKay. It was so softly, so perfect that I felt my own heart pang in sympathy for them. The Colonel's hands were still on Doctor McKay's face when they kissed and I could only think that he was holding Doctor McKay, making sure that he couldn't be taken away again. Doctor McKay was holding on then too, he looked exhausted but he was seemingly clutching so hard at the Colonel's sides, I would imagine he'd have bruises later from it.

The whole scene couldn't have lasted more than a minute before Doctor Keller was reaching for Doctor McKay, pulling him out of the Colonel's arms. They wheeled him away with the Colonel still clutching the one thing he could, Doctor McKay's hand tightly within his own.

Afterward it felt as if no one wanted to move from their spot. It felt like we'd all just witnessed a secret moment, something none of us should have been there for. Mr. Woosley cleared his throat and then, like a flip had been switched, we all turned back alive. Doctor Zelenka excused himself to check on Doctor McKay and I agreed to finish up the diagnoses of the control panel on my own.

I transferred back to the SGC only a few months after that, they rotated most of the engineers back and forth, to give experience to those of us who really wanted it. I would hear stories about Doctor McKay and Colonel Sheppard when I was back on Earth every once in a while. I even heard the retelling of the kiss several times, I would find out later it was the first public kiss the two had shared on Atlantis. I knew what I saw there, that day in the control room. I didn't see just the first kiss they'd shared in public between them, I saw who they were, I saw Rodney and John standing down there, without a doubt in my mind, two men who were very much in love.

FIC; Together Again

telperion_15 — Mon, 03 May 2010 15:00:35 GMT

Title: Together Again
Characters/Pairing: McKay/Sheppard, Elizabeth
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1164
A/N: Sequel to But Not Together. There was wailing and gnashing of teeth... *g*

Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing with them for a little while.

Together Again

“John? Can I talk to you for a moment?”

John sighed. He really needed to find a new favourite balcony. Everyone knew about this one, and therefore that made a crap place to hide.

“Sure, Elizabeth, what can I do for you?”

“It’s about Caldwell. And Rodney.”

Oh shit.

“There’s no way this isn’t about what I think it’s about, is there?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “No.”

“Look, I’ve already spoken to Rodney and sorted it out. Don’t worry, Caldwell’s got no reason to try and ship me off back to the SGC any more.”

“I wish you’d spoken to me about it first, John.”

“Well, Caldwell made it pretty clear time was of the essence…”

“Because then I could have told you that Colonel Caldwell has no reason to ship you back to the SGC in any case.”

“I…what?”

“Did you really think I’d just let him do that, John? Just let him take away the finest military commander this expedition is ever likely to have because of something so…so unimportant?”

Some part of John was blushing at Elizabeth’s extravagant compliment, but all he said was, “I don’t think it’s unimportant.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Anyway, I didn’t think Caldwell was the type to change his mind just because someone disagrees with his opinion.”

“Well, no,” Elizabeth admitted. “But I did point out to him that if he tried it, he’d have one hell of a fight on his hands. No one can deny everything you’ve done for this expedition, and for the Pegasus galaxy as a whole.”

“What, like waking the Wraith up early and getting a whole bunch of people killed and culled as a result?” John said sourly.

“Like putting your life on the line every day to save those people,” Elizabeth corrected him sharply. “And your own people on Atlantis as well. I think those kind of actions stack up fairly well against the military’s ridiculous regulations, don’t you?”

“I suppose…”

“And besides,” Elizabeth continued, smiling sweetly, “I also reminded Caldwell that if the generals back on Earth could find it their hearts to give him his command back after he’d had a Goa’uld in his head, then it should be easy for him to overlook his personal prejudices in this case and forget that he ever knew anything about this.”

“Oh. And he bought that?”

“He came around to my way of thinking, yes,” said Elizabeth. “We don’t give up our own without a fight, John,” she continued gently. “You of all people should know that.”

“Yes, well, I seem to have developed a slight case of amnesia on that subject today…”

“Ah, speaking of which, there’s someone else here who would like to speak to you as well.”

For one crazy moment, John thought she’d brought Caldwell with her, and there was a conversation he really didn’t want to have. In fact, if he never saw the guy again it would be too soon.

But then the door slid open to reveal Rodney. A Rodney who looked extremely pissed off.

Uh oh.

Suddenly a conversation with Caldwell was looking rather more appealing.

“Well, I’ll just leave you two to it then, shall I?” said Elizabeth cheerfully. She flashed John a beaming smile, and then brushed past Rodney as she went back inside, patting him on the shoulder in passing.

John swallowed. Rodney was glaring daggers at him, and right now throwing himself off the balcony seemed like a pretty attractive prospect. “Rodney, I…”

“I don’t like you very much right now,” Rodney interrupted, stepping forward on to the balcony and allowing the door to swish shut behind him. “In fact, I don’t think ‘hate’ would be too strong a word for what I’m feeling at the moment.”

“Look, I’m sorry, Rodney.” John scrubbed a hand over his face. “I honestly thought I was doing the right thing. For both of us.”

“The right thing? The right thing?” Rodney was almost yelling. “Well, let me tell you, Colonel – you don’t get to make those kinds of decisions for me.”

“Yeah, well, Caldwell does,” John snapped.

“I told you I’d come with you back to Earth, didn’t I?”

“Oh, get real, Rodney. Your career means more than anything to you. You’d never want to leave Atlantis.”

For a moment Rodney looked like he was about to explode. Then, abruptly, he deflated. “Yes, okay, my career does mean a lot to me,” he admitted. “That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have given it up for you, though,” he added, in a quiet voice.

The fact that Rodney would do that for him made John’s heart squeeze painfully. But he couldn’t help saying, “And inside a week you’d be regretting that you’d ever done that. I know you, Rodney. You’d go nuts without Atlantis, or the Stargates, or something like that to play with. If you’d come with me, that part of your career would have been over, and although you mean it now when you say you’d be happy to give it up, that wouldn’t have lasted. Pretty soon you would have started to resent me for making you do it, and then we would have fallen apart anyway.”

He took a deep breath. That was a pretty long speech for him when it came to subject of relationships and feelings, and he could tell from the expression on Rodney’s face that Rodney was just as surprised by it as he was.

Then, “You stupid, stupid idiot,” Rodney said. He crossed the balcony in four strides, grabbed John by the arms, and dragged him in for a rough, clumsy, hard kiss. “Don’t you get it?” he asked, pushing John away again just as quickly. “I mean, I realised you were oblivious, but even I didn’t think you were this bad…”

“Rodney…”

“I love you, you moron,” Rodney snapped. He pointed a finger at John. “Although don’t get used to hearing that, because I’m certainly not going to start saying it every five minutes.”

“Oh…”

Yes, ‘oh’. And that means that, compared to you, my career means precisely nothing. Zip. Zero. Zilch. So don’t ever try to tell me again that I shouldn’t give it up for you, you hear me?”

“Yes, Rodney,” replied John meekly.

“Good. Now come here.”

John found himself pulled back into another kiss, this one softer and more considered, but no less intense and meaningful for all that. John made a happy sound in his throat – Hurricane Rodney appeared to be blowing itself out, and he felt like it was safe to slide his arms around Rodney’s waist and pull him as close as he could.

“Don’t think this means I’ve stopped hating you, mind,” Rodney grumbled against his lips. “You got a long way to go before I actually forgive you for doing that to me.”

John tightened his grip a little more, noting that Rodney didn’t seem to be protesting the kissing or the closeness, despite his professed hatred. “Yes, Rodney,” he said again.