Biological Imperatives by Elvichar [Reviews - 74]
Chapter or Story - Text Size +
Category: Slash Pairings > McKay/Sheppard
Characters: John Sheppard, Rodney McKay
Rating: PG-13
Genres: AU - Alternate Universe, First Time, Humour, Pre-relationship, Series
Warnings: None
Series: None
Word count: 21049; Completed: Yes
Summary: Rodney McKay never made a nuclear bomb in his life. Although it's possible Dr. Sheppard might have made a few.
He turned over. Last night had been a horrible, horrible mistake. He could tell from the dull ache in his head and the pins and needles in his arm. Either he had slept on it or someone else was sleeping on it.
If the latter, he wasn't entirely sure who that someone else could be.
This wasn't like him - wasn't like him at all.
He didn't remember drinking that much last night, but clearly he had.
Dr. Rodney McKay measured his life in coffee spoons most days, measuring it in spirits was so uncharacteristic.
Last night had been a celebration. After years working in that pisspot university, he had finally got a break.
He hadn't felt this relieved since the sixth grade, when Angela Cook persuaded him not to exhibit that nuclear bomb at the science fair. She had a tip off that Mr. Waverley, the head of the science department had heard about the plan and was determined to award anyone pulling any 'stunts' an F.
Rodney was not going to risk having any future career prospects blighted by a silly little slip like that.
The year after Angela had also persuaded him that physics was an easy option - that if he wanted to impress her he would be better off taking something that had more of a future. He had agreed; she was sweet and pretty and his only friend and he would have done anything to make her happy.
So he invested all his efforts into biology. It came harder to him than physics ever did, he didn't really feel he was a natural at it, but Angela was his lab partner and that was all that mattered at the time.
It took another three years for him to realize she was never going to see him that way, and by then the crush had disappeared on his part, too. She wasn't really his type anyway.
By that time he was finding the subject ridiculously easy and had decided to make genetic research his life's work.
It had been humiliating in the extreme when he found that his PhD thesis on genetic anomalies and the wayward gene (a project he had been working on for almost five years) had been rejected because it was far too similar to one submitted a week before by someone else - a medical doctor working in Britain. Dr. Carson Beckett was, as far as Rodney was concerned, his nemesis.
Nobody accused him of plagiarism, but his reputation had been tarnished. He had had to throw together another study based on obscure mutations in mollusks. He was now seen as the world's foremost expert in snails, clams and mussels.
Then, miraculously, only last week he had been approached because of his original thesis. Someone high up in the US government had got hold of a copy and they wanted his knowledge and expertise. He was not going to turn them down. The only other offer he had had lately was an invitation to host a symposium on the Brown Mystery Snail.
Hence the celebrations.
Right now, he only wished he knew to whom the mystery hand on his thigh belonged. He had the vaguest recollection of a tallish, darkish sort of handsome stranger.
Whoever was attached to the arm coughed, gently. They were evidently waking up.
"What time is it?" A voice asked. It had a hint of a southern state about it, Rodney thought. Though he couldn't be sure. All Americans sounded more or less the same to him. The only difference was some of them sounded female and some of them male. This voice was definitely male. He would have been more freaked out by that if he hadn't decided long ago that, as nobody ever seemed to be interested in him anyway, he would take whatever was offered. Maybe it had come from working around the mollusks for so long - gender differences were all a bit hazy to him these days.
Not that he wasn't discriminating - not that he didn't have standards - but if someone was prepared to find him attractive he was prepared to do the same for them. At least that's what he kept telling himself. It was theoretical rather than practical. Until now. Possibly. Although he wasn't sure if anything had actually happened. Probably not - he felt the same as always.
Last night been a double celebration/leaving party for two of members of the science faculty. Rodney had never really spoken to the other departing academic - but he had seen him around. He worked on the other campus most of the time, and as Rodney tended not to associate with the physics professors - it made him bitter, considering what might have been.
He had managed to catch the other man's name though. Shepley or Sheffield or Sheppard or something.
He had apparently been offered a position in Belgium.
Everyone thought Rodney was going to Czechoslovakia to study the terrestrial mollusks of the Ponto-Caspian region; that was the cover story the US government had given him.
Rodney looked over to his alarm clock. It was far too early to be awake. "It's 4.30am," he mumbled to the unidentified person sharing his bed.
"Oh shit, I was hoping to be up by 3am - I have a plane to catch."
Rodney suddenly pulled his arm from under the other man and sat up awkwardly - causing a rush of blood to his head. He had to put his head between his legs.
"Ow."
"Are you all right?" The voice said.
"Low blood sugar - I'll be fine," Rodney mumbled. He had a plane to catch as well - it had slipped his mind. How could he have got so drunk the night before? He kept his head between his knees until some of the dizziness passed. He felt a hand on his back. "I'll be fine, really."
When he finally looked up he saw the face of that Sheffield man.
"Uh, listen," said the man. "I don't want to be rude or anything - but what the hell happened last night? I seem to have passed out and I don't seem to have any recollection of anything much ... last thing I remember clearly was Dr. Ramirez passing me - and you I think - a shot of tequila, and insisting we drink them straight down. Do you think there's a chance he might have, you know, spiked our drinks? "
Knowing Dr. Ramirez, Rodney was positive that had been exactly what had happened.
"Well, this is embarrassing." Rodney sighed. "But as I am sure nothing actually happened - and as we still have time to catch our respective planes - I suggest we just get dressed and go our separate ways."
The other man nodded formally. "Yeah. I guess that's... best." He smiled a little sadly.
"Well, it's been nice knowing you, briefly, Dr. Sheffield," Rodney held his hand out for the other man to shake.
"Sheppard," the man took the hand and shook it firmly. "Pity we never really got to know each other."
Rodney gave a brief, joyless snort. "Yes. Quite."
Sheppard dressed quickly and left quietly and Rodney was left staring at his empty room.
TBC
Chapter or Story - Text Size +
Category: Slash Pairings > McKay/Sheppard
Characters: John Sheppard, Rodney McKay
Rating: PG-13
Genres: AU - Alternate Universe, First Time, Humour, Pre-relationship, Series
Warnings: None
Series: None
Word count: 21049; Completed: Yes
Summary: Rodney McKay never made a nuclear bomb in his life. Although it's possible Dr. Sheppard might have made a few.
He turned over. Last night had been a horrible, horrible mistake. He could tell from the dull ache in his head and the pins and needles in his arm. Either he had slept on it or someone else was sleeping on it.
If the latter, he wasn't entirely sure who that someone else could be.
This wasn't like him - wasn't like him at all.
He didn't remember drinking that much last night, but clearly he had.
Dr. Rodney McKay measured his life in coffee spoons most days, measuring it in spirits was so uncharacteristic.
Last night had been a celebration. After years working in that pisspot university, he had finally got a break.
He hadn't felt this relieved since the sixth grade, when Angela Cook persuaded him not to exhibit that nuclear bomb at the science fair. She had a tip off that Mr. Waverley, the head of the science department had heard about the plan and was determined to award anyone pulling any 'stunts' an F.
Rodney was not going to risk having any future career prospects blighted by a silly little slip like that.
The year after Angela had also persuaded him that physics was an easy option - that if he wanted to impress her he would be better off taking something that had more of a future. He had agreed; she was sweet and pretty and his only friend and he would have done anything to make her happy.
So he invested all his efforts into biology. It came harder to him than physics ever did, he didn't really feel he was a natural at it, but Angela was his lab partner and that was all that mattered at the time.
It took another three years for him to realize she was never going to see him that way, and by then the crush had disappeared on his part, too. She wasn't really his type anyway.
By that time he was finding the subject ridiculously easy and had decided to make genetic research his life's work.
It had been humiliating in the extreme when he found that his PhD thesis on genetic anomalies and the wayward gene (a project he had been working on for almost five years) had been rejected because it was far too similar to one submitted a week before by someone else - a medical doctor working in Britain. Dr. Carson Beckett was, as far as Rodney was concerned, his nemesis.
Nobody accused him of plagiarism, but his reputation had been tarnished. He had had to throw together another study based on obscure mutations in mollusks. He was now seen as the world's foremost expert in snails, clams and mussels.
Then, miraculously, only last week he had been approached because of his original thesis. Someone high up in the US government had got hold of a copy and they wanted his knowledge and expertise. He was not going to turn them down. The only other offer he had had lately was an invitation to host a symposium on the Brown Mystery Snail.
Hence the celebrations.
Right now, he only wished he knew to whom the mystery hand on his thigh belonged. He had the vaguest recollection of a tallish, darkish sort of handsome stranger.
Whoever was attached to the arm coughed, gently. They were evidently waking up.
"What time is it?" A voice asked. It had a hint of a southern state about it, Rodney thought. Though he couldn't be sure. All Americans sounded more or less the same to him. The only difference was some of them sounded female and some of them male. This voice was definitely male. He would have been more freaked out by that if he hadn't decided long ago that, as nobody ever seemed to be interested in him anyway, he would take whatever was offered. Maybe it had come from working around the mollusks for so long - gender differences were all a bit hazy to him these days.
Not that he wasn't discriminating - not that he didn't have standards - but if someone was prepared to find him attractive he was prepared to do the same for them. At least that's what he kept telling himself. It was theoretical rather than practical. Until now. Possibly. Although he wasn't sure if anything had actually happened. Probably not - he felt the same as always.
Last night been a double celebration/leaving party for two of members of the science faculty. Rodney had never really spoken to the other departing academic - but he had seen him around. He worked on the other campus most of the time, and as Rodney tended not to associate with the physics professors - it made him bitter, considering what might have been.
He had managed to catch the other man's name though. Shepley or Sheffield or Sheppard or something.
He had apparently been offered a position in Belgium.
Everyone thought Rodney was going to Czechoslovakia to study the terrestrial mollusks of the Ponto-Caspian region; that was the cover story the US government had given him.
Rodney looked over to his alarm clock. It was far too early to be awake. "It's 4.30am," he mumbled to the unidentified person sharing his bed.
"Oh shit, I was hoping to be up by 3am - I have a plane to catch."
Rodney suddenly pulled his arm from under the other man and sat up awkwardly - causing a rush of blood to his head. He had to put his head between his legs.
"Ow."
"Are you all right?" The voice said.
"Low blood sugar - I'll be fine," Rodney mumbled. He had a plane to catch as well - it had slipped his mind. How could he have got so drunk the night before? He kept his head between his knees until some of the dizziness passed. He felt a hand on his back. "I'll be fine, really."
When he finally looked up he saw the face of that Sheffield man.
"Uh, listen," said the man. "I don't want to be rude or anything - but what the hell happened last night? I seem to have passed out and I don't seem to have any recollection of anything much ... last thing I remember clearly was Dr. Ramirez passing me - and you I think - a shot of tequila, and insisting we drink them straight down. Do you think there's a chance he might have, you know, spiked our drinks? "
Knowing Dr. Ramirez, Rodney was positive that had been exactly what had happened.
"Well, this is embarrassing." Rodney sighed. "But as I am sure nothing actually happened - and as we still have time to catch our respective planes - I suggest we just get dressed and go our separate ways."
The other man nodded formally. "Yeah. I guess that's... best." He smiled a little sadly.
"Well, it's been nice knowing you, briefly, Dr. Sheffield," Rodney held his hand out for the other man to shake.
"Sheppard," the man took the hand and shook it firmly. "Pity we never really got to know each other."
Rodney gave a brief, joyless snort. "Yes. Quite."
Sheppard dressed quickly and left quietly and Rodney was left staring at his empty room.
TBC