Five Firsts by Bloodkisses [Reviews - 12]
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Category: Slash Pairings > McKay/Sheppard
Characters: John Sheppard, Rodney McKay
Rating: R
Genres: Romance
Warnings: None
Series: None
Word count: 2741; Completed: Yes
Summary: Five firsts that chart the changes in John & Rodney's relationship from first meeting to friendship, to something more.
1st Conversation
The first time that they talk, it's less of a conversation and more of a verbal steamrollering. He's bombarded with information, peppered with questions, has random insults tossed at him about his hair, parentage, career and intellect. He fields it all with the same sense of surreal bemusement. It's worth the effort though, when McKay finally runs out of steam, questions and abuse and pauses for longer than it takes to draw a breath. John waits, counting a full 30 seconds in his head before shrugging, plastering the most vapid grin he can onto his face and saying 'Cool' in a carefully bored tone.
The resulting explosion is simply epic.
He can already tell that baiting McKay is going to be fun.
1st Touch
The first time Rodney touches Sheppard it's entirely by accident. They bump hands; both of them reaching for the pepper pot at lunch one day. It's an utterly innocuous touch and he doesn't give it a second thought at the time, too busy being impatient with John to pass him the pot.
It's much later, when he's hip deep in another crisis and only ankle deep in vaguely competent staff, that he remembers the light brush of Sheppard's knuckles against his palm so vividly he can almost feel it.
It takes him a few seconds to realise why, because it's not actually the first time he's touched Sheppard. But it's the first time when John wasn't bleeding, unconscious, dying or God, dead.
The next time they're sitting at lunch together, their knees bump lightly under the table, but it's not an accident. It's just that Rodney can't quite bear the thought that the only time he touches John is when the man who, against all expectation has become a friend, is hurt. It feels wrong in a way Rodney can't put into words yet. And Rodney hates it when things are wrong.
1st Fight
The first time they fight, really fight, is just after Rodney realises that Sheppard has an honest to God martyr complex. The man thinks nothing of running off to die, like some kind of sacrificial lamb to the metaphorical slaughter.
Rodney's had a hard enough time coming to terms with the new technology, the new galaxy, the Wraith, and the hundred different ways there are to die, even here in the city they now think of as home. Finding out that his team leader has some kind of suicidal guilt psychosis-thing or something is just too much.
Later, when he turns the scene endlessly over in his mind, he finds he can't even remember what started the argument. He has the sneaking suspicion, from the surprised look on Sheppard's face, that it came out of nowhere. Certainly he remembers the sudden rush of anger that overtook him and the ways the words came spilling out. He's not likely to forget the way Sheppard's expression changed from surprise to anger.
Rodney remembers only snatches of what they say to each other. Words like 'stupid' and 'reckless' and 'duty' and 'responsibility' ; both of them getting more and more angry until they're inches away, shouting at each other until they were both red faced and breathless. Then Sheppard threw up his hands and walked away, leaving Rodney shouting at his back until he was out of sight.
The anger drains away even quicker than it arrived and Rodney wonders if he's managed to finally break a friendship he'd never expected to find. He hides in the labs for the rest of the day, not brave enough to find out either way.
He makes himself go to breakfast as normal, because Elizabeth won't let him install a coffee maker in the labs. Sheppard's already there and Rodney knows that he can't hide forever, although the thought of trying has a distinct appeal.
Sheppard doesn't say anything when Rodney sits down and for a moment, Rodney's certain he's going to leave. But then Sheppard pushes the pepper pot towards him with his elbow and eyes the grapes on Rodney's tray with a certain avaricious intent. The sense of relief is both welcome and completely out of proportion, considering it's Sheppard's fault that they argued in the first place.
His relief doesn't stop him from slapping Sheppard's hand away when he tries to not-so-stealthily steal his fruit. He's not forgiven Sheppard for his stupid suicidal tendencies, nor for making him care enough to get angry enough to risk their friendship, but he's not so angry that he won't take the obvious olive branch when it's offered.
Even though he's horribly certain that John's going to keep on trying to die for other people and forcing Rodney to keep on pulling out some kind of miracle to save him, them. Even though Rodney's terrifyingly certain that one day he's going to fail. The only consolation is that they'll probably be together when that happens and he'll probably get the chance to say 'I told you so' to Sheppard before they die.
1st Kiss
The first time they kiss it's rushed and sloppy; there's more teeth than anything else and John's head practically bounces off the wall. It lasts no more than a few seconds before Rodney lets go and jumps back, as if he's been scalded. There's an endless moment where they just look at each other, then someone turns into the corridor and Rodney's beating a hasty retreat, before John can catch his breath to ask what the hell just happened.
It's a running joke that John never sees this coming, but right now it's never been more true. Yet, if he's honest, there's a sense of 'finally'; an understanding that beneath the banter, the insults, the games and chess, the off duty time and the life-and-death situations, they've been heading towards this since the day they met. He just never expected either of them to act on it.
If he'd ever allowed himself to think of how it would start, he'd have thought of something crazy and reckless, something out of control and fuelled by anger or adrenaline or fear, something they both jumped into. Not this rushed kiss that nearly misses his mouth entirely, a kiss that's filled with desperation and desire in equal measure. Yet it's strangely appropriate, given that underneath the bluster and bombast, Rodney's as unsure as John is when it comes to people and relationships. John's often wondered if part of the reason they became such friends is because they recognised that in each other.
He has no idea what triggered this. No clue how they went from walking down an average corridor, discussing which was the better Doctor Who to Rodney wrapping his hands around John's biceps and pushing him against the wall, metal warm against his back, even through the shirt, Rodney pressed close enough that he could barely take a breath. Honestly though, he's not entirely sure which of them was more surprised, if the look on Rodney's face before he fled was any indication.
Not that John's any less of a coward, because he turns tail in the other direction and heading for somewhere as far away from the labs and Rodney as he can without arousing any suspicion.
When he's holed up, he acknowledges just how damned stupid the situation is; two grown men, in a city that can fly, in another galaxy, hiding from each other. It'd be funny if it wasn't so damned tragic. But he needs time to think; time to work out just what the hell he's supposed to do now.
He'd assumed that they were both, if not exactly content, then in some kind of tacit agreement that whatever potential there was between them would be best left unacknowledged, given their situation and relative positions, not to mention John's career.
He's scared, and slightly pissed that in the end, Rodney was the one to make the first move. It's easier to deal with if he tells himself that it wasn't that Rodney was unexpectedly brave, in the way he is more and more these days, but that he broke first.
He hides as long as he reasonably can, then he tells himself to get a grip and act like a man.
Rodney's right where John expected him to be, in the labs, head down, working furiously. He's alone, so John guesses that he has been even more moody and vicious to his staff than usual. Rodney's a genius, but he's actually even worse with people than John is; he's just more obvious about it.
When Rodney doesn't look up, John just leans against the door frame and watches him work. He's pretty sure that Rodney hasn't even realised he's there yet and as much as he'd rather not have to deal with the fallout of earlier, it's got to be done. The fact that he's pretty sure that Rodney will jump halfway out of his seat when he does look up and see John is also a powerful motivator for John to stay.
He's disappointed though, because when Rodney finally does look up from his keyboard, he doesn't jump at all. Instead, his eyes widen and his mouth twists and he looks a little like a deer caught in the headlights. It's almost endearing, in a dorky, awkward kind of way. He opens his mouth to speak a couple of times, but in the end, his shoulders slump and he doesn't say a thing, just looks at John unhappily.
It finally dawns on John that maybe Rodney's expecting a freak out. That maybe he was even braver than John initially thought. Because Rodney is terrible at reading people and maybe he didn't realise that John feels what's been building between them too; that John hasn't dared let himself actually want, because there'd be no way to stop wanting once he starts. Maybe Rodney thinks that John's here to freak out at him, because Rodney's braver and fitter than he was before, but he still acts before he thinks sometimes. John would bet a week's puddlejumper time that that's exactly what's happened here.
He wants to say something appropriate, something grand and memorable; something to tell Rodney he understands and he needs this too. But he doesn't have the words and he's fairly certain they'd just sound stupid. Anyway, the other scientists are slowly edging back into the room, obviously hoping that John being here will either dispel Rodney's snit or deflect the vitriol from them.
So instead of grand words, he just looks at Rodney and says 'Lunch?' like it's a normal day and Rodney hasn't turned his whole world upside down. Rodney looks slightly startled for a second, but it's better than the poorly hidden fear of earlier, then he nods.
They walk to the mess together and John doesn't know whether he's supposed to say something and if so what he should say. It's only the knowledge that Rodney will be as unsure and awkward as he is that keeps him there, by Rodney's side.
There are several minutes, as they're getting lunch, when John wonders if they're ever going to be able to get back to where they were before, let alone move forward. Then Ronon, and next Teyla join them and as Ronon manipulates Rodney into launching into a tirade about his fellow scientists, it feels as though nothing has changed. Until Rodney's knee bumps John's under the table and he realises that everything's changed. For the better.
1st Love
The first time Rodney realises that not only does he love, but that he's hopelessly, stupidly, tragically in love with John isn't the first time they stumble into bed, cracking shins and getting tangled in clothes and bumping noses when they try to kiss. It isn't the first time that he wakes, John curled up beside him like a sleepy cat. It's not when he gets to a meeting late and finds a cup of coffee already waiting for him, or when John brings a chocolate muffin to the labs because Rodney's missed lunch. It's not when he sits opposite John in the canteen and suddenly has to look away because he can't quite believe that they've managed, despite their combined social ineptitude, to make the relationship work.
It's not the arguments over who was the better Batman, or the rare times when John displays flashes of the intellect that he usually tries to hide, and which just make Rodney that much more fascinated. It's not the way he catches John watching him sometimes when he thinks Rodney isn't looking.
It isn't the way Rodney always calls John first when he makes a new discovery. It's not the way John's voice sounds, piped directly into Rodney's ear, low and intimate when he answers Rodney's calls, no matter what time of the day it is. He's pretty sure it isn't when he goes for meals at times when he knows John is likely to be there, or the way he always gets extra grapes so that John can try and steal them while Rodney pretends he doesn't notice, or minds if he does. It's not even the way John's face lights up when he smiles, which doesn't happen nearly as often as Rodney thinks it should.
It's none of these things, because in truth, most of them started long before he and John started sleeping together. In hindsight, Rodney suspects that he really should have guessed much earlier, but really, it's not like he'd had much to compare it with.
He loved Katie, he's sure of it, but he thinks now that he was more in love with the idea of marriage and passing on his genes, than with her. He can't imagine spending nights curled up around her, debating whether teaching Ronon baseball would be a good, if slightly dangerous idea. He can't imagine relying on her to help him keep his head when things are falling apart around them. He can't see her talking someone into dying so that Rodney didn't have to. He can't imagine her being prepared to die for him.
Admittedly, he'd have never had to worry about her going off on suicidal death runs, or getting shot, or stabbed or captured and tortured. He also never had to worry about her drooling on him in the night.
The moment he finally realises that he's fallen for John is when he wakes in the early hours one random morning to find that John's stolen most of the covers, hair sticking up even more than usual, one leg half hanging out of bed, snoring softly. It's when he discovers that he doesn't feel the urge to shake John awake and send him back to his own room, even if he is slobbering all over Rodney's pillow. It's when he looks at the too fragile body, all knees and elbows and dark hair and warm, soft skin and realises that everything he's done, every one of the last minute solutions, all of the hours in the lab and the training sessions have been, in some way, for this man. For his approval, his amusement, to keep him alive, to keep him here, in Atlantis, with Rodney.
He feels as though there should be a sudden moment of epiphany, but instead there's just the understanding that he's known the truth all along, even if he didn't see it until now. And instead of panic, all he thinks is that this is just another new discovery he should share with John.
He curls up around John, who stretches slightly and moves further into Rodney's embrace. Rodney rests his chin on John's shoulder and softly says his name. When John mutters and answers, his voice heavy and raspy with sleep, Rodney whispers his secret into John's ear. For a few seconds after, John doesn't do anything, Rodney's not even sure he's breathing and he's wonders if he's misjudged, if he's presumed that John would welcome the words. Then John turns and faces Rodney, the sharp planes of his face highlighted by moonlight. When he puts his mouth next to Rodney's ear and whispers, in a low, halting way that he knows; that he came to the same realisation, Rodney finally relaxes.
John kisses him gently then, slow and careful and achingly tender.
And Rodney thinks that tomorrow might just be the first day of the rest of his life and he can't wait for it to start.
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Category: Slash Pairings > McKay/Sheppard
Characters: John Sheppard, Rodney McKay
Rating: R
Genres: Romance
Warnings: None
Series: None
Word count: 2741; Completed: Yes
Summary: Five firsts that chart the changes in John & Rodney's relationship from first meeting to friendship, to something more.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks to my betas, Navlasha and Veritas_st.
1st Conversation
The first time that they talk, it's less of a conversation and more of a verbal steamrollering. He's bombarded with information, peppered with questions, has random insults tossed at him about his hair, parentage, career and intellect. He fields it all with the same sense of surreal bemusement. It's worth the effort though, when McKay finally runs out of steam, questions and abuse and pauses for longer than it takes to draw a breath. John waits, counting a full 30 seconds in his head before shrugging, plastering the most vapid grin he can onto his face and saying 'Cool' in a carefully bored tone.
The resulting explosion is simply epic.
He can already tell that baiting McKay is going to be fun.
1st Touch
The first time Rodney touches Sheppard it's entirely by accident. They bump hands; both of them reaching for the pepper pot at lunch one day. It's an utterly innocuous touch and he doesn't give it a second thought at the time, too busy being impatient with John to pass him the pot.
It's much later, when he's hip deep in another crisis and only ankle deep in vaguely competent staff, that he remembers the light brush of Sheppard's knuckles against his palm so vividly he can almost feel it.
It takes him a few seconds to realise why, because it's not actually the first time he's touched Sheppard. But it's the first time when John wasn't bleeding, unconscious, dying or God, dead.
The next time they're sitting at lunch together, their knees bump lightly under the table, but it's not an accident. It's just that Rodney can't quite bear the thought that the only time he touches John is when the man who, against all expectation has become a friend, is hurt. It feels wrong in a way Rodney can't put into words yet. And Rodney hates it when things are wrong.
1st Fight
The first time they fight, really fight, is just after Rodney realises that Sheppard has an honest to God martyr complex. The man thinks nothing of running off to die, like some kind of sacrificial lamb to the metaphorical slaughter.
Rodney's had a hard enough time coming to terms with the new technology, the new galaxy, the Wraith, and the hundred different ways there are to die, even here in the city they now think of as home. Finding out that his team leader has some kind of suicidal guilt psychosis-thing or something is just too much.
Later, when he turns the scene endlessly over in his mind, he finds he can't even remember what started the argument. He has the sneaking suspicion, from the surprised look on Sheppard's face, that it came out of nowhere. Certainly he remembers the sudden rush of anger that overtook him and the ways the words came spilling out. He's not likely to forget the way Sheppard's expression changed from surprise to anger.
Rodney remembers only snatches of what they say to each other. Words like 'stupid' and 'reckless' and 'duty' and 'responsibility' ; both of them getting more and more angry until they're inches away, shouting at each other until they were both red faced and breathless. Then Sheppard threw up his hands and walked away, leaving Rodney shouting at his back until he was out of sight.
The anger drains away even quicker than it arrived and Rodney wonders if he's managed to finally break a friendship he'd never expected to find. He hides in the labs for the rest of the day, not brave enough to find out either way.
He makes himself go to breakfast as normal, because Elizabeth won't let him install a coffee maker in the labs. Sheppard's already there and Rodney knows that he can't hide forever, although the thought of trying has a distinct appeal.
Sheppard doesn't say anything when Rodney sits down and for a moment, Rodney's certain he's going to leave. But then Sheppard pushes the pepper pot towards him with his elbow and eyes the grapes on Rodney's tray with a certain avaricious intent. The sense of relief is both welcome and completely out of proportion, considering it's Sheppard's fault that they argued in the first place.
His relief doesn't stop him from slapping Sheppard's hand away when he tries to not-so-stealthily steal his fruit. He's not forgiven Sheppard for his stupid suicidal tendencies, nor for making him care enough to get angry enough to risk their friendship, but he's not so angry that he won't take the obvious olive branch when it's offered.
Even though he's horribly certain that John's going to keep on trying to die for other people and forcing Rodney to keep on pulling out some kind of miracle to save him, them. Even though Rodney's terrifyingly certain that one day he's going to fail. The only consolation is that they'll probably be together when that happens and he'll probably get the chance to say 'I told you so' to Sheppard before they die.
1st Kiss
The first time they kiss it's rushed and sloppy; there's more teeth than anything else and John's head practically bounces off the wall. It lasts no more than a few seconds before Rodney lets go and jumps back, as if he's been scalded. There's an endless moment where they just look at each other, then someone turns into the corridor and Rodney's beating a hasty retreat, before John can catch his breath to ask what the hell just happened.
It's a running joke that John never sees this coming, but right now it's never been more true. Yet, if he's honest, there's a sense of 'finally'; an understanding that beneath the banter, the insults, the games and chess, the off duty time and the life-and-death situations, they've been heading towards this since the day they met. He just never expected either of them to act on it.
If he'd ever allowed himself to think of how it would start, he'd have thought of something crazy and reckless, something out of control and fuelled by anger or adrenaline or fear, something they both jumped into. Not this rushed kiss that nearly misses his mouth entirely, a kiss that's filled with desperation and desire in equal measure. Yet it's strangely appropriate, given that underneath the bluster and bombast, Rodney's as unsure as John is when it comes to people and relationships. John's often wondered if part of the reason they became such friends is because they recognised that in each other.
He has no idea what triggered this. No clue how they went from walking down an average corridor, discussing which was the better Doctor Who to Rodney wrapping his hands around John's biceps and pushing him against the wall, metal warm against his back, even through the shirt, Rodney pressed close enough that he could barely take a breath. Honestly though, he's not entirely sure which of them was more surprised, if the look on Rodney's face before he fled was any indication.
Not that John's any less of a coward, because he turns tail in the other direction and heading for somewhere as far away from the labs and Rodney as he can without arousing any suspicion.
When he's holed up, he acknowledges just how damned stupid the situation is; two grown men, in a city that can fly, in another galaxy, hiding from each other. It'd be funny if it wasn't so damned tragic. But he needs time to think; time to work out just what the hell he's supposed to do now.
He'd assumed that they were both, if not exactly content, then in some kind of tacit agreement that whatever potential there was between them would be best left unacknowledged, given their situation and relative positions, not to mention John's career.
He's scared, and slightly pissed that in the end, Rodney was the one to make the first move. It's easier to deal with if he tells himself that it wasn't that Rodney was unexpectedly brave, in the way he is more and more these days, but that he broke first.
He hides as long as he reasonably can, then he tells himself to get a grip and act like a man.
Rodney's right where John expected him to be, in the labs, head down, working furiously. He's alone, so John guesses that he has been even more moody and vicious to his staff than usual. Rodney's a genius, but he's actually even worse with people than John is; he's just more obvious about it.
When Rodney doesn't look up, John just leans against the door frame and watches him work. He's pretty sure that Rodney hasn't even realised he's there yet and as much as he'd rather not have to deal with the fallout of earlier, it's got to be done. The fact that he's pretty sure that Rodney will jump halfway out of his seat when he does look up and see John is also a powerful motivator for John to stay.
He's disappointed though, because when Rodney finally does look up from his keyboard, he doesn't jump at all. Instead, his eyes widen and his mouth twists and he looks a little like a deer caught in the headlights. It's almost endearing, in a dorky, awkward kind of way. He opens his mouth to speak a couple of times, but in the end, his shoulders slump and he doesn't say a thing, just looks at John unhappily.
It finally dawns on John that maybe Rodney's expecting a freak out. That maybe he was even braver than John initially thought. Because Rodney is terrible at reading people and maybe he didn't realise that John feels what's been building between them too; that John hasn't dared let himself actually want, because there'd be no way to stop wanting once he starts. Maybe Rodney thinks that John's here to freak out at him, because Rodney's braver and fitter than he was before, but he still acts before he thinks sometimes. John would bet a week's puddlejumper time that that's exactly what's happened here.
He wants to say something appropriate, something grand and memorable; something to tell Rodney he understands and he needs this too. But he doesn't have the words and he's fairly certain they'd just sound stupid. Anyway, the other scientists are slowly edging back into the room, obviously hoping that John being here will either dispel Rodney's snit or deflect the vitriol from them.
So instead of grand words, he just looks at Rodney and says 'Lunch?' like it's a normal day and Rodney hasn't turned his whole world upside down. Rodney looks slightly startled for a second, but it's better than the poorly hidden fear of earlier, then he nods.
They walk to the mess together and John doesn't know whether he's supposed to say something and if so what he should say. It's only the knowledge that Rodney will be as unsure and awkward as he is that keeps him there, by Rodney's side.
There are several minutes, as they're getting lunch, when John wonders if they're ever going to be able to get back to where they were before, let alone move forward. Then Ronon, and next Teyla join them and as Ronon manipulates Rodney into launching into a tirade about his fellow scientists, it feels as though nothing has changed. Until Rodney's knee bumps John's under the table and he realises that everything's changed. For the better.
1st Love
The first time Rodney realises that not only does he love, but that he's hopelessly, stupidly, tragically in love with John isn't the first time they stumble into bed, cracking shins and getting tangled in clothes and bumping noses when they try to kiss. It isn't the first time that he wakes, John curled up beside him like a sleepy cat. It's not when he gets to a meeting late and finds a cup of coffee already waiting for him, or when John brings a chocolate muffin to the labs because Rodney's missed lunch. It's not when he sits opposite John in the canteen and suddenly has to look away because he can't quite believe that they've managed, despite their combined social ineptitude, to make the relationship work.
It's not the arguments over who was the better Batman, or the rare times when John displays flashes of the intellect that he usually tries to hide, and which just make Rodney that much more fascinated. It's not the way he catches John watching him sometimes when he thinks Rodney isn't looking.
It isn't the way Rodney always calls John first when he makes a new discovery. It's not the way John's voice sounds, piped directly into Rodney's ear, low and intimate when he answers Rodney's calls, no matter what time of the day it is. He's pretty sure it isn't when he goes for meals at times when he knows John is likely to be there, or the way he always gets extra grapes so that John can try and steal them while Rodney pretends he doesn't notice, or minds if he does. It's not even the way John's face lights up when he smiles, which doesn't happen nearly as often as Rodney thinks it should.
It's none of these things, because in truth, most of them started long before he and John started sleeping together. In hindsight, Rodney suspects that he really should have guessed much earlier, but really, it's not like he'd had much to compare it with.
He loved Katie, he's sure of it, but he thinks now that he was more in love with the idea of marriage and passing on his genes, than with her. He can't imagine spending nights curled up around her, debating whether teaching Ronon baseball would be a good, if slightly dangerous idea. He can't imagine relying on her to help him keep his head when things are falling apart around them. He can't see her talking someone into dying so that Rodney didn't have to. He can't imagine her being prepared to die for him.
Admittedly, he'd have never had to worry about her going off on suicidal death runs, or getting shot, or stabbed or captured and tortured. He also never had to worry about her drooling on him in the night.
The moment he finally realises that he's fallen for John is when he wakes in the early hours one random morning to find that John's stolen most of the covers, hair sticking up even more than usual, one leg half hanging out of bed, snoring softly. It's when he discovers that he doesn't feel the urge to shake John awake and send him back to his own room, even if he is slobbering all over Rodney's pillow. It's when he looks at the too fragile body, all knees and elbows and dark hair and warm, soft skin and realises that everything he's done, every one of the last minute solutions, all of the hours in the lab and the training sessions have been, in some way, for this man. For his approval, his amusement, to keep him alive, to keep him here, in Atlantis, with Rodney.
He feels as though there should be a sudden moment of epiphany, but instead there's just the understanding that he's known the truth all along, even if he didn't see it until now. And instead of panic, all he thinks is that this is just another new discovery he should share with John.
He curls up around John, who stretches slightly and moves further into Rodney's embrace. Rodney rests his chin on John's shoulder and softly says his name. When John mutters and answers, his voice heavy and raspy with sleep, Rodney whispers his secret into John's ear. For a few seconds after, John doesn't do anything, Rodney's not even sure he's breathing and he's wonders if he's misjudged, if he's presumed that John would welcome the words. Then John turns and faces Rodney, the sharp planes of his face highlighted by moonlight. When he puts his mouth next to Rodney's ear and whispers, in a low, halting way that he knows; that he came to the same realisation, Rodney finally relaxes.
John kisses him gently then, slow and careful and achingly tender.
And Rodney thinks that tomorrow might just be the first day of the rest of his life and he can't wait for it to start.