Tarlan's Insane Place

PG slash - Adapt or Die - Alan/Billy JP3

2009-12-12T22:45:56Z

Title: Adapt or Die
Author: Tarlan (tarlanx)
Fandom: Jurassic Park 3
Pairing/Characters: Alan Grant/Billy Brennan
Rating/Category: PG pre-slash
Prompt: Jurassic Park 3, Alan/Billy, survivor
Word Count: ~1390
Spoilers: None
Summary: Surviving the loss of Billy would be near impossible as he wasn't certain if he could adapt to the emptiness of his life without him.
Notes/Warnings: Written for smallfandomfest FEST06

After the events on Isla Nublar, the Costa Rican government had insisted on closing down the whole of Ingen's operation. Geneticists and game keepers alike had evacuated Site B on Isla Sorna, leaving the guardianship to a small security force from the Costa Rican army. Perhaps that was their first mistake because a bunch of soldiers knew nothing about herding gallimimus and brachiosaurus, they knew nothing on how to control the deadliest killers on the planet in 65 million years--T-Rex, spinosaurus...and velociraptor. So it was of little surprise to Alan that they had ended up abandoning the island and its monstrous creations leaving more than just overturned water trucks and still-full vending machines behind. They had lost men too for there was no large primate on the island that could account for the skull and bones that Erik had found and used as a weapon to fight off the hungry chicks in the pteranodon nest.

Within five years, the jungle had taken back most of the land cleared by man, with vines threading through broken glass and twisted metal. Eventually, the complex and airfield would be gone, crashing down like the stairs of the pteranodon observatory, and then the island would belong solely to the dinosaurs.

Man and velociraptor were never meant to share the same world. If it had not been for some cataclysmic event 65 million years in the past then primates would have stayed up high in the trees to avoid their main predator and rival. They would not have spent time on the ground digging for roots and picking berries at their leisure; they would not have found shelter in caves and mastered fire. Velociraptors would have ruled the world and given 65 million years of evolution, Alan suspected that they would be the ones building space shuttles and sending others of their kind to the moon, with primates on the verge of extinction, kept as exhibits in a zoo. It was a sobering thought to realize that man's dominance had rested on the whim of natural catastrophe--on a large meteor that sent a dust cloud enveloping the Earth, blotting out the sun and killing much of the vegetation that was the food source of the velociraptors' prey. The key to survival was adapt or die. Primates and small mammals had survived because they had adapted quickly, requiring smaller amounts of food to survive and able to find shelter and warmth, but the massive herbivore dinosaurs had starved to death, and after they were gone, most of their predators followed them into extinction.

Hammond had brought them back from extinction and now only the cataclysmic event of a nuclear device landing on each island would send those creatures back where they belonged. However, watching the pteranodons flying majestically towards new breeding grounds told Alan that they had already left that option far too late. As Malcolm had once said, life finds a way, and Alan suspected that more than just one species of dinosaur had already found a means to spread from Isla Sorna, perhaps already breeding on other islands in the small chain known as Las Cinco Muertes--The Five Deaths.

Five years on, he still remembered the velociraptors; he recalled their harsh barking calls and the intelligence behind their cold reptilian eyes. They had haunted his dreams, bringing back memories of fighting for not just his life but Ellie's and for Hammond's grand kids, and yes, for Ian Malcolm and Hammond too.

The situation he found himself in now was worse. Far worse.

When he passed the eggs across to Mrs. Kirby as the alpha female velociraptor bared her razor sharp teeth, Alan was convinced that part of him had already died. Surviving the loss of Billy would be near impossible as he wasn't certain if he could adapt to the emptiness of his life without him. Billy's presence--his boyish charm and enthusiasm--was connected to so much of Alan's life; to the dig, to the university, even to the long boring seminars used to gain grant money for continued research. It had taken losing Billy for Alan to realize exactly what he had lost.

Now he had him back, bloodied and torn but very much alive, and Alan knew he had to evolve; he had to adapt to the knowledge of what he wanted from Billy or let his feelings for Billy die, even if that sealed his own fate. The problem was not so much a fear of revealing his love but in knowing if it was returned, aware that he could lose Billy if he said nothing but, equally, he could lose him if he spoke up.

As he stared at his battered hat--probably rescued by Billy as they floated down the river together--he thought back to all those moments shared. Alan recalled the easy laughter at the dig and the way Billy often reached out to touch his arm or his back. He remembered the way Billy's lips pursed and his eyes narrowed a fraction whenever one of the female helpers flirted with Alan, and the way Billy would saunter over and charm that woman away. Except it wasn't just women. He'd watched Billy charm away men too, before setting them to work as far from Alan as possible. With a frown, Alan realized that he only ever saw them for a few weeks before they were replaced whereas others returned time and time again.

He was a scientist, a paleontologist. He was used to digging up tiny pieces and fitting them back together like a 3D jigsaw puzzle, sometimes of massive proportions. Applying that same logic to his relationship with Billy was starting to yield a different theory to explain Billy's actions. He'd stolen the velociraptor eggs in the hope that they would fund the dig for another ten years, and that implied that he wanted to stay with him even after he finished his thesis and gained his own doctorate. He'd done it for both of them, and had nearly died trying to redeem himself in Alan's eyes.

The slight thud as the helicopter landed on the US carriers' deck brought him back from his new theory and he kept his seat as Billy was taken off first, catching and holding Billy's gaze until the last possible moment as the stretcher moved through the door. Any doubts fled from Alan immediately, burned away by the intensity of love and need in the pain-filled eyes. For once, technology didn't hold him back as he unclipped his seat belt and followed on behind. No one stopped him but then he guessed they wanted to check over the whole group anyway as all of them were sporting cuts and bruises from their ordeal on Isla Sorna.

A medic asked him to sit on the bed next to Billy and that suited Alan just fine--until they drew the curtains between them.

"Alan?"

The fear and pain in Billy's voice gripped at Alan's heart but the medic wouldn't allow him to rise and draw back the curtain, so he called out instead, "I'm here, Billy. I'm here."

"Don't go," Billy whispered hoarsely, in direct contrast to his plea as the pteranodon attacked.

"I...I won't. Not this time. I'm not going anywhere without you." He took a deep breath. "Who'd protect me from the damn tourists?" he added dryly, trying to ignore the shake in his voice. The small chuckle he gained in response took away some of the worry and Alan relaxed a fraction, allowing the medic to treat his cuts before they became infected.

"Alan?" The pain-filled voice was softer this time but still laced with fear. With recent bad history between them, Alan could hear the unspoken question. Were they good? Was he forgiven?

"Still here. We're going to be alright, Billy," he stated, hoping that Billy would hear the deeper meaning that offered both regret for the harsh words spoken in anger, and forgiveness for the act of theft from the velociraptor nest that had brought on those words.

"Okay." This time Alan heard the relief and knew Billy had understood.

Alan smiled and let the medic carry on with his job. Somehow he and Billy had survived Isla Sorna and its monsters, so perhaps adapting to a new relationship between them--one built on love--was not such a harrowing prospect after all. Certainly, Alan wanted to try.

END

-

PG slash - Outstanding - BvsP/TC Emmett/Brendan Dean

2009-12-11T13:35:40Z

Title: Outstanding
Author: Tarlan (tarlanx)
Rating: PG slash Emmett/Brendan Dean
Disclaimer: Not Mine!
Word Count: 2100
Summary: The death of an FBI agent at the hands of a group led by a man who'd been known for his gun running and unproved terrorist activities brings Brendan to Elkins.
Author's Note: For forcryinoutloud, who deserves a little psychic_snakes loving!
For hewligan_100 prompt 002 Center

The Longreen Snake Reserve was at the very center of the town, which seemed a little disconcerting to Brendan following the most recent media coverage on giant snakes attacking and eating people in Philadelphia. The queue of people lined up to gain entry obviously didn't share his concern. Probably the opposite, with their imaginations fired up like those who wanted to see the man-eating tiger at the zoo. Of course, they had a reason for coming that went beyond seeing an ordinary snake. They wanted to see the one Dr. Emmett called Betty; one of the largest snakes in captivity--and possibly in existence, hopefully.

Brendan gained a few disgruntled looks as he walked passed the waiting crowd to the entrance. He flashed his badge at the harassed ticket clerk, seeing her eyes widen a fraction.

"Special Agent Brendan Dean to see Dr. Emmett," Brendan stated even though identifying himself didn't seem to be necessary as she was reaching for the telephone before he had finished speaking. She had accepted his badge at face value, acting as if she had been expecting him.

While she waited for the person at the end of the line to pick up, he watched her give an apologetic smile to the customer who should have been next but the flush on her face and the way her pupils dilated showed that she wasn't averse to being interrupted by him. He gained that reaction quite a lot, and had never really figured out what it meant until Freya provided details of the lust-filled thoughts that accompanied the coy smiles. Now it was a little embarrassing knowing that some people looked at him and thought he was hot when he'd thought their rapt attention had been out of respect for his rank and occupation. Still, if it meant he didn't have to wait in line to see Dr. Emmett then who was he to complain?

"Dr. Emmett. There's a government agent here to see you."

Putting down the phone she smiled weakly. "Dr. Emmett has asked you to wait in his office." She gave him directions and he felt her eyes on him as he walked away, knowing she only turned her attention back to the next customer when the man started to whine about the long wait.

Without conscious thought, Brendan took in every detail as he walked along the corridor and then up a short flight of stairs to the office. Over the years he had come to rely on that particular innate skill, and coupled with Freya's telepathy, that had made them a formidable team. He heard Dr. Emmett long before he reached the threshold and paused for a moment, registering the stress in the doctor's voice as he held a one-sided conversation.

"No, I don't want you to give a lecture, Jeff. I just want you to make sure no one bangs on the glass."

He seemed to register Brendan's arrival and turned, blue eyes widening and mouth drooping lower on one side of his face but Brendan had a feeling Emmett wasn't really seeing him at all, for he was too intensely focused on his conversation. However, as Emmett turned away again, it gave Brendan a chance to study the other man, and he had to admit he was glad Freya wasn't around to read his mind as he had a feeling she would be punching him on the arm and telling him to tone down the fireworks. Emmett was hot. All broad shoulders tapering down a strong back to a beautifully curved ass. Brendan knew this wasn't the physique of a man that exercised regularly in a gym, but one who worked hard with heavy objects...like very large snakes. Brendan had held one in a zoo once and had been surprised by how heavy it was.

"Yes. The glass." Emmett rolled his eyes. "Yes. Good. Keep up the good work." The cordless phone went back onto its cradle and Emmett took a deep breath and let it out slowly before giving Brendan a tight smile. Sadly, if Emmett thought Brendan was hot then he was hiding it pretty well, but then, he wasn't exactly showing much in the way of respect either. "If you're here to borrow Betty again then the answer's no. She hasn't recovered from last loan...yet."

"Actually, I'm here to go over your statement regarding Special Agent Sharpe."

Brendan doubted the sorrow that had turned the eyes a liquid blue could be faked so easily, revealing a depth of empathy that Brendan hadn't really expected. It had been easy to make the assumption that Emmett would be as cold as the creatures he studied. Emmett sank down into the seat behind his desk while indicating for Brendan to take the one opposite.

"What do you need to know?"

"I'm trying to build up a picture of what happened. I have the transcript from your interview with Agent Koznetova but wanted to check you hadn't recalled any new details since then."

Brendan had been surprised and a little annoyed to be given this assignment, and told to take a few days afterwards, but he guessed they wanted to keep him out of trouble while Freya was spending time with Dr. Welles, honing her telepathic skills. Also, investigating the death of any federal agent was of paramount importance, especially as Sharpe had been killed by someone taking orders from Broddick--a man that Brendan and Freya had started investigating over his questionable ties with certain international paramilitary organizations. That investigation had come to an abrupt halt with Broddick's death--torn apart between two giant, battling snakes. It didn't help that Brendan had known Sharpe, admittedly not all that well, but they had collaborated over another case a few years earlier, and Brendan never forgot anything.

Emmett stared for a moment but Brendan could see his thoughts were turned inwards; he refocused on Brendan, blinking rapidly as if he had actually noticed him for the first time. Brendan twitched his lips as he saw the first sign of interest that went beyond professional, but then Emmett seemed to pull himself back together.

"Would it help if I went through those final moments again?"

Brendan nodded.

"Okay, okay." He took a deep breath as he gathered his thoughts. "After the two surviving soldiers escaped, we carried on tracking Betty. We worked out a plan to trap both snakes in the reservoir by flooding the overflow tunnels, forcing them in that direction." He smiled weakly. "Idea was to send someone in with tranquillizer darts and take both snakes alive." He paused. "Monica picked up three new signals and Agent Sharpe called his agent on the surface to ask if she'd sent people into the tunnels." He shook his head. "Didn't get an answer but we knew we only had three minutes to reach them and get them to safety." He paused again and Brendan knew from the down-turn on both sides of his mouth that this was when it had happened. "We came to a junction. I stepped one way but Monica said it was the opposite direction. Agent Sharpe was...there. Said, I got this, and led the way. Stepped out and..." Emmett stared hard into Brendan's eyes. "If I'd be in the lead...then that would have been me."

"Who shot him?"

Emmett shook his head and shrugged. "There were three men. All armed but... He jerked back from the first shot. I don't know much about guns but it sounded different from the shots that came soon after the Python attacked." He frowned. "Two of them were dressed the same in bright orange jackets. One older, one younger...father and son. I think it was the third guy who shot him. The one who hung back after... The one the python attacked."

"We think his name was Foley." Brendan pulled out a photo and slid it across the desk towards Emmett. He watched as Emmett studied the photo intently but knew from Emmett's body language that he recognized him.

"Yeah. That's the guy that got snatched and dragged away."

"One Shot Foley."

"Hmm?" Emmett looked up from the photo, his eyes haunted.

"That's what he liked to call himself. Said a kill should take one shot only."

Emmett snorted derisively. "Yeah, well that's all he took to kill Agent Sharpe."

"I have one more question to ask." Brendan took a breath for this one, uncertain how Emmett would react. "Was it an instant kill?"

Emmett shook his head slowly. "No. I dropped down beside him and... He was looking right at me when he died moments later." Emmett looked directly into Brendan's eyes. "We had no choice but to leave him...his body behind."

Brendan nodded because it matched all the facts presented by Agent Koznetova and the marine doctor. He smiled reassuringly. "That's all I needed to know, Dr. Emmett."

Emmett nodded but Brendan could see he was still dazed and disturbed from the events of less than a week earlier. A small huff of derision and Emmett was cocking his head towards his office door.

"It's mayhem out there. All these people suddenly interested in seeing my snakes." He trailed off. "My guys are not used to crowd control, and the visitors want a reaction from the snakes like they're performing dogs...or something."

"Banging on the glass," Brendan stated, understanding the call he'd interrupted earlier.

Emmett's eyes widened, hands rising defensively. "Not that it's a bad thing as heaven knows I need the money to keep this place running and fund my research. Grant money only goes so far. My accountant says I should milk the incident for every cent I can get while it lasts but..."

"But people died."

Emmett nodded. "And more die every day while my research is put on hold."

Brendan knew the interview had come to an end and yet he was strangely reluctant to leave. He wondered if anyone had offered Emmett any counseling because Brendan knew he'd feel pretty disturbed if he saw someone torn apart or eaten alive by giant snakes right in front of him. Or maybe Emmett had managed to compartmentalize those deaths from years of watching snakes hunt and feed. From the haunted look in Emmett's eyes, Brendan doubted that though.

"Is there a restaurant around here? I had to catch an early flight. Didn't have time for breakfast."

"Well, there's a Starbuck's about a block away."

"Join me," Brendan asked quietly and saw Emmett hesitate, torn between wanting to get away and needing to stay to deal with the sudden influx of visitors to the center.

"You have a cell, don't you? And it's a block away?"

It seemed to be all the reassurance Emmett needed as, moments later, they were walking through a side entrance towards the familiar Starbuck's sign. Brendan felt a little dismayed when he saw the queue that stretched through the coffee shop and out the door, and every table looked full. The girl behind the counter smiled brightly and waved at them, telling them to come further in.

"Wasn't sure we'd see you today, Emmett. Looks like you've drawn quite a crowd." She handed over a large coffee. "I saved you the usual table at the back just in case," and smiled at Brendan. "What can I get you?"

"Ellie, anytime you want to quit here and work for me--"

"Snakes, Emmett! Snakes!"

Emmett shook his head and smiled. With a large coffee in hand, Brendan followed him to the very back where a single comfy chair had been left with a reserved notice. Ellie appeared with another chair and squashed them close together in the crowded corner. She nudged Emmett as she headed back to the serving counter, overhearing her whisper, "He's cute."

Emmett flushed slightly pink. "Don't mind Ellie."

"No problem." No problem at all, Brendan added silently, because it confirmed what Brendan had seen before in Emmett's eyes was a spark of interest and, for once, Brendan kind of liked it.

****

Epilogue:

Looking back years later, as he lay sprawled half across his lover in the early morning, Brendan wondered at the chain of events that had led him to Elkins, and to Emmett. He could have refused the original assignment, could have ignored the haunted look in Emmett's eyes and left him to seek help elsewhere. He could have returned to his lonely apartment that first day rather than taking up Emmett's offer of his guest room--because all the hotels were full of people wanting to see the 'big snake'.

He could have said, "no," when Emmett kissed him so tentatively and asked if he was okay with that. But he had been okay with the slide of lips and naked skin, with the butterfly kisses that grew more ardent as passion grew between them.

One time he wondered out loud what Agent Sharpe would have thought of having been the catalyst in their relationship.

Emmett's reply had been, "Outstanding."

END

-

NC17 slash - Blinded by Science - Jack/Rodney

2009-12-10T19:20:43Z

Title: Blinded by Science
Author: Tarlan (tarlanx)
Rating: NC17 slash Jack/Rodney and Daniel
Disclaimer: Not Mine!
Word Count: ~3200
Summary: An Ancient artifact has unforeseen side effects for Jack.
Author's Note: For sg_rarepairings #601 Jack/Rodney - blinded by science and fanfic100 #85 Blind

Day One

"Aagh!" Jack exclaimed. If he had to listen to one more sentence composed of a list of multi-syllabic, scientific terms he was going to shoot someone. He held up a hand to stop the flow from Sam. He was starting to wish he hadn't decided to make this unofficial visit to Atlantis on the pretext of seeing how Sam was settling in as Elizabeth's replacement, but having half of his old team there had given him a hankering for the old days. "And Sheppard can't activate this because...?"

"He's on medical leave following the incident on MC3-4DF."

"Right." Jack stretched out the word, not entirely convinced that it was a good enough reason for using him as a guinea pig in this latest discovery on Atlantis. "And McKay?"

"Not a natural gene carrier, sir."

"I didn't think that mattered according to..." He waved in the direction of the scientist standing next to Sam.

Sam carried on as if he hadn't interrupted her. "And also, he's busy reconfiguring the desalination tanks so we have fresh drinking water."

"And you've checked this out thoroughly. No exploding tumors or," he twiddled a finger close to his temple, "Sudden leaps towards ascension." He recalled some of the reports he'd read of less than stellar discoveries found within the abandoned laboratories on Atlantis.

"Doctor Adams checked for any references on the Ancient database. She assures me it's just a...viewer."

"Viewer?" Nope, still not completely convinced. "Viewing what...exactly?"

"Sir, it's completely safe," Doctor Adams stated rather than answering his question. Jack chose to ignore her and look to Sam instead, gaining only a noncommittal shrug before Sam added, "Closest approximation we can get is that it extrapolates real time events to produce forecast models for behavior analysis."

Jack parsed that technobabble into normal speech. "Like watching reality TV."

"Well not exactly, sir, but..." Sam winced. "Close enough. Doctor Adams checked over the translations with Daniel and--"

"Talking of Daniel. Where is he?"

"He mentioned discussing the Arthurian legend and its possible connections to Atlantis with McKay."

Jack winced. "In the desalination tanks? Bet that's fascinating," he stated wryly. "Okay. So when do you want to do this?"

"I have the device right here." Adams eagerly held up what looked like one of those old-fashioned toys that combined two images into one to make it look like it was a 3-D image. "You simply look into the device here and think ON at it."

Gingerly, Jack accepted the device, holding it between thumb and forefinger and with one last glance towards Sam, he held it firmly in both hands and looked into the eye pieces, thinking 'ON'. Nothing happened. No light show, no buzzing or humming, not even the tiniest pulse inside his head.

"Well that was a monumental waste of time," he stated sourly as he dropped it back onto the laboratory bench.

Sam was frowning, eyes narrowing a fraction before they started to widen in something graver than mere concern. "Sir, your eyes--" She was staring straight at him. That was when the fog started moving in from the peripheral of his vision, clouding over his sight until everything seemed shrouded in a silver-gray haze.

"Carter?"

She was already tapping her radio and calling in a medical emergency; his sight grew dimmer, grayer, until he could no longer make out any shapes in the fog before his eyes. He screwed his eyes close tight, opening them in some half-hearted belief that this would clear away the deepening mist but, instead, all he saw was the gray fog.

He was blind.

****

An hour later, he was still without sight but he refused to give into the panic. His other senses seemed to have compensated--his hearing was sharper, his sense of smell increased and even the smoothest surface caused sensations to tingle through him. Unfortunately with the hearing it meant he had to endure the sound of a seriously pissed McKay but for once, he didn't mind in the slightest that someone was tearing a strip off Carter. He had trusted her. He had trusted her judgement and her knowledge just as he had done on probably a hundred missions in the past. Daniel's voice joined the mix.

"What device?" Daniel asked in a deceptively mild voice but Jack knew that tone, hearing the anger simmering beneath.

There was an uncomfortable silence and a rustle of sound before Sam spoke quietly. "Doctor Adams?"

The awkward silence ended with McKay's sharp voice disguising none of the anger he was feeling, and the snap of fingers. "Give me the research data. Now." The fast tapping of keys on a laptop stopped abruptly, followed swiftly by McKay's acid tongue. "This is it? This is the sum total of your research?"

"I assure you, Doctor McKay, I researched the device thoroughly--"

"Or not! Because I've seen greater depths of research in a trashy tabloid. If he had seen this then he would have vetoed the experiment." A scrape followed, which Jack guessed was McKay turning the laptop around to show the results to the others. He figured the 'he' in question was Daniel judging by what sounded like an expletive in an unfamiliar language.

"Can somebody tell me what's going on here?" He had to ask because no one was saying anything. Of course he should have known that McKay would be the one to speak up.

"Doctor and Colonel Incompetence here have blinded you. The good news is that the condition isn't permanent. The bad news is that it will take a least two or three days before you regain your vision, possibly four...hopefully."

He could almost see Sam bristling at being included in the accusation but McKay was right, and the lack of verbal protestation from her proved it but his mind hooked onto that final word. "Hopefully?"

"Well, you're not a pure Ancient. Who knows how seriously your mere human genes might affect the--"

"McKay," Jack stated sharply. "Not helping."

"Right. Of course."

Keller had examined him thoroughly using both Ancient and human medical machinery but she had no suggestions to offer other than to wait and see if the effects wore off on their own. With growing dismay, Jack realized he would have to accept the--hopefully--temporary blindness.

***

Day Two

Waking up in that dull gray world was unnerving enough but doubly so when accompanied by the sound of snoring in his ear. Jack smacked at the source of the noise, eliciting a sharp snort of surprise; he recognized the person making the awful sound.

"McKay. What are you doing here?"

"Eh...Daniel. He didn't want you waking up alone so I... Um. Well. You're awake now so I'll just..."

"Just what?"

"Go. I'll just go and...unless you want to go too. Breakfast?"

Jack stared hard at the space where he believed McKay was standing, and barely held in a gasp of shock as a strong image came to him of McKay naked. In his mind's eye he could see all of him from the broad shoulders down the lightly furred chest with its enticingly peaked nipples, then lower to the soft belly and strong thighs. In his vision, McKay was standing with legs apart, stroking his hard cock--the tip slippery and shiny with precome. Looking up the length of the ghost image, Jack could see those nipples standing taut, begging to be licked and sucked. Further up, his wide mouth was slack with desire, lips parted as if waiting to be filled with Jack's cock or taken by Jack's kiss. His pupils were shot too, with the dark pupils swallowing almost all of the brilliant blue. As Jack watched, mesmerized by the wanton display, McKay's head tipped back to expose the pale column of his vulnerable throat. Long eyelashes fluttered against flushed cheeks and a low moan sent heat racing through Jack's body.

He was almost too beautiful for words, reminding Jack of all he had given up when he decided upon a military career all those decades ago. It had seemed a good deal at the time but now? Not so much.

"General? General?"

Jack blinked and the image was gone leaving only the relentless gray. "What the hell!"

He reached out and touched McKay on the chest, feeling the warmth of fabric beneath his fingertips that proved McKay was not actually standing naked in front of him. Savagely he pushed down the disappointment. What he could also feel though was the peak of one of those often perky nipples. Jack snatched his hand back and willed his body under some semblance of control.

"General?"

"Jack," he stated without thinking, quickly realizing that he really would prefer McKay to call him by his given name. General and sir got old pretty fast. He'd missed Daniel calling him Jack and figured he'd known McKay long enough to offer him that same privilege, which meant he was within his rights to think of McKay as Rodney. Hell, they'd come a long way since that talk after Rodney had forced him to take a cold swim to release the locks on that underwater puddlejumper bay--and the subsequent hand-in-head torture by the Replicators. Oh, he'd bitched about them bringing Sam along next time but he'd seen enough reports cross his desk from where Rodney had saved the day that, under duress, he would be willing to admit the scientist was every bit as good as Sam.

"Do they have cake?"

"For breakfast?" Rodney sounded a little horrified and intrigued at the same time.

"Okay, pancakes?"

He could almost feel the glow of warmth from the smile brightening Rodney's face. "With real Canadian maple syrup."

"Lead on!"

***

"Reality TV, my ass," he murmured as he experienced his fourth vision since waking this morning.

So far he had seen the corporal serving breakfast as a master chef, turning plain pancakes into masterpieces of culinary delight to the point where he was surprised when a bite revealed just a plain stack of pancakes on his plate. He'd seen Major Lorne as some budding Michaelangelo, trying to capture the warm colors of Atlantis reflecting off the naked butt of some guy sitting at the same table.

On the fourth time it was some mild-mannered female scientist meekly serving McKay in a Japanese tea ceremony while wearing the full traditional garments and make-up. In her fantasy, her coy smiles were entrancing Rodney, and Jack screwed his eyes shut to banish the image of Rodney pulling the elaborate pins from her hair in a prelude to stripping her naked.

As if to confirm his suspicion that this was Fantasy TV instead of Reality TV, he saw Sam approaching in a full dress with her breasts barely restrained by the tight bodice. She swooned towards him and he flinched, almost reaching out to capture her even though he knew instinctively that it wasn't real. He'd long suspected that she had a crush on him--and he'd done everything in his power to keep their relationship both professional and Platonic. It was a little disconcerting when he realized that if this was Sam's private fantasy of them, straight out of one of those Harlequin romances, then that meant the naked, wanton McKay fantasy from earlier must have come from Rodney.

Jack knew which image he found hotter, and it wasn't Sam in her bodice-ripper reenactment.

After another couple of hours enduring the private fantasies of a dozen more people, most of them sexual in nature, Jack insisted on returning to his quarters until the effect of the device either wore off or someone came up with a solution.

He raised both eyebrows at Sam. "You really want me to explain why?"

Her bodice ripped a little further, showing more of the creamy curve of her breast with the merest hint of a pink nipple. In contrast, Daniel's fantasy was surprisingly mild and non-sexual in nature, probably because he was already living out his fantasy in real time just by being in Atlantis. Although in disgrace, Adams was present and Jack almost groaned aloud at her fantasy of finding the solution and becoming the heroine in this farce, thereby salvaging her reputation in both Sam and McKay's eyes.

It took all of Jack's concentration not to glance towards Rodney, purely because the image of him naked and wanton was back full force, and Jack was starting to feel the heat pooling in his groin as he imagined it for real.

Daniel saved him the embarrassment by reading the translation of the data he'd managed to locate on the device.

Not so strangely, everyone disappeared pretty fast once they realized what he was seeing; Sam in particular when Jack casually asked for something to occupy his time--other than trashy bodice-ripper romance novels.

"McKay!" Rodney paused on the threshold and Jack imagined him looking deciding pink around the cheeks and ears. "Stay. I've got a few questions for you."

"Really?" For once Rodney sounded less than eager to show off his vast intellect, and it was so amusing to know he was trying desperately to rein in his more lustful thoughts but they kept seeping through the cracks in his mental walls.

Jack listened hard, waiting until he knew they were alone as the door closed behind the last of the escapees. Taking pity on Rodney would mean letting him run away as fast as the others but Rodney's fantasy was one that Jack wanted to come true. Having never been one for talk instead of action, Jack started to strip, pulling off his boots and socks before shrugging out of his jacket and t-shirt. He pulled his dog tags over his head and dropped them onto the bedside table. Rodney was unusually quiet, standing as far from the bed as humanly possible, until Jack unzipped his pants and started to draw them down.

"What are you doing?"

Jack tilted his head, wishing he could see Rodney's real expression. "I figured both of us naked would be a better fantasy...or reality."

Silence filled the room for a moment.

"Really? You mean..."

"Shut up and get naked," he ordered warmly. Jack heard the susurration of cloth sliding over flesh and grinned.

***

Day Three

Jack awoke early in the morning to the warmth of another body plastered tight against his side in the narrow bed. He blinked several times, smiling as he realized the gray was slowly lifting, revealing the soft hues of blue, gold and green that filled Atlantis. When he rose up onto one elbow and looked down, he knew this was no fantasy image sharing his bed. The pale skin wasn't blemish free but it was still perfect in Jack's eyes; he reached out to stroke over the velvet softness, fingers carding through the light smattering of chest hair until his finger pad brushed over a smooth nipple. Jack watched as it peaked instantly, so responsive to his touch, feeling his cock twitch in response.

Beneath him, Rodney stirred, his lips curving upwards in satisfaction, and he stretched with cat-like grace, his back arching. Impossible to resist, Jack leaned in and kissed him, his hand sliding along one smooth flank until he could almost cup the firm yet generous ass cheek. He'd almost forgotten how good it was to touch another man; to feel all that coiled strength, all those sharper angles of muscle and bone, and to feel a hard cock in his hand. He'd almost forgotten the taste too--the bittersweet essence coating his tongue as they brought each other to a satisfying climax with hands and mouth.

The bright blue eyes had opened fully now and were gazing straight at him a little fearfully.

"You can see."

The tone was flat, giving very little away but Jack recognized the self-conscious hunch to Rodney's body. He straddled Rodney, pinning him to the mattress while he let his eyes rove over every exposed inch of his lover. Rodney began to squirm beneath him but Jack stilled him with a kiss above his heart, followed by another lower, and yet another on the soft, pale belly.

"Perfect," he whispered as Rodney's hands came up tentatively to touch him in return, strangely silent for the normally garrulous scientist. When Jack glanced back up, awe had replaced uncertainty in the desire-filled blue eyes, and Jack locked gazes as he took the now rigid cock into his mouth. The quiet didn't last and Jack licked and sucked until Rodney was a babbling wreck--hard and wanting beneath him--before pulling away long enough to fumble in the bedside drawer for the hand cream stashed there. Jack knew what else he had almost forgotten over the years, knew what else he wanted to experience again. Slowly, he positioned Rodney so his legs were draped over Jack's shoulders, before pushing a single greased finger into the tight body, letting the soft moan reverberate through him. Jack watched in pleasure as Rodney's eyes glazed over before leaning back in to suck the hard cock once more. The weight of Jack's body kept Rodney from bucking up into his mouth as he brought Rodney to a slow climax, the bitter semen coating his tongue and sliding down his throat as he swallowed every drop.

Pulling away, Jack quickly greased his cock and positioned it against the loosened hole. He was shaking with need as he waited for Rodney to regain coherency and give him permission, aware that Rodney might easily refuse as Jack didn't have a condom. Constant medical check-ups ensured they were both clean so that wouldn't be an issue, but Rodney was finicky like a cat, and bare-back was messy.

"Yes. Fuck me," Rodney demanded, voice slurred with exhaustion of spent passion.

Jack grinned and pushed carefully into the hot, tight channel, feeling strong muscles clench around his cock as he thrust deep inside the firm body. He couldn't last, already too close just from the mere thought of possessing another man's body--Rodney's body. Clenching muscles drew the climax from him in wave upon wave of pure pleasure as he came with a soft cry.

Afterwards he was right about Rodney being finicky, grateful he had regained his sight so he could navigate his way to the bathroom for a washcloth to wipe away the mess. Rodney bitched until he was as clean as he could get without taking a sponge bath but Jack didn't mind. He lay back on the bed and pulled at Rodney until the other man was draped over him, with his head pillowed on Jack's shoulder.

"Shut up and go back to sleep," he murmured warmly, taking the sting out his words by dropping kisses on the top of Rodney's head.

He knew they might never have a chance to be together like this again. He was still a USAF General after all, with a sworn duty to protect their home planet, and Rodney was the Chief Scientist in an alien city based in another galaxy. But for this brief moment they had both time and opportunity, and Jack had learned never to waste either. Instead he took advantage by tightening his hold on the man in his arms, letting the tactile memories flood through him so he could store them for the dry years ahead.

END

-

NC17 slash - Empty Lives - Bryan/Vaughn, Ice Men

2009-12-09T00:04:43Z

Title: Empty Lives
Author: Tarlan (tarlanx)
Fandom: Ice Men
Pairing/Characters: Bryan/Vaughn
Rating/Category: NC17/Slash
Prompt: Ice Men, Bryan & or / Vaughn, empty lives
Spoilers: none
Notes/Warnings: none
Summary: Vaughn finally realizes what he has been missing all his life.

Written for smallfandomfest FEST06

After almost losing Trev in the icy waters of the shallow lake, Vaughn had forced himself to face a lot of facts. It was something that should have come easy to a lawyer of his renown, except he'd spent a lot of his career glossing over or hiding the truth if it didn't suit the needs of his client--himself in this case. It had been so easy to bury the memories of their abusive father but that weekend had brought everything out into the open--everything from Trev's self-harming to his own obsessive-compulsive behavior. Finally he had understood his reluctance to see things change, terrified to lose the better memories of these three childhood friends--but nothing stayed the same. Children grew up, took on new experiences, discovered new things about themselves... and for a friendship to survive it had to change too. It had to adapt or die.

Vaughn didn't want their childhood friendship to die.

In the two months that had passed since the incident at the cabin, Vaughn had seen Jon several times to arrange the photo calendar for his law firm and he had gone to the gym religiously twice a week, spending time working out with Stevie. The weird part was seeing Jon and Steve together. He'd known about Jon for a couple of years, and Jon was right. Knowing Jon was gay and acknowledging it were two separate issues and, until the cabin, he'd tried to ignore that side of his friend. Discovering that Steve had broken off his engagement to Jennifer and moved in with Jon was yet another issue that Vaughn had to face in their ever-changing friendship but, this time, Vaughn met the challenge head on. This time he acknowledged the change in their relationship towards each other and towards him.

Of Bry he had seen nothing.

Under the circumstances that shouldn't have been a problem, but Vaughn recalled the long hours waiting at the hospital while the doctor checked over Trev to ensure that he wouldn't come down with pneumonia--or some other bug--after swallowing all that cold lake water. Bryan had stayed with him, falling asleep in a chair several feet away as if afraid to sit too close and yet reluctant to abandon him. At one point Vaughn had hovered over Bryan's sleeping form, seeing the bruise darkening around his eye from the punch Vaughn had landed in a fit of anger. It didn't matter that Bryan had deserved it. After all, he'd caught Bry having sex with his estranged wife in the damn cabin while he was only twenty feet away, only then learning that they'd been having an affair right under his nose for months and he'd been too blinkered to see the signs. Yet Vaughn still felt guilty for the two punches to gut and face, recalling the shocked disbelief on Bryan's face and the memory of his father's heavy fists, not liking either memory. He didn't want to become his father.

To his everlasting shame he had still wanted Renee even after finding her fucking his best friend, but she was right--he didn't love her enough. He would never be able to keep a promise to put her first. He'd always find some excuse to spend his time checking his portfolio or reading his emails rather than simply being with her, but he couldn't say the same of Bry. He'd always dropped everything for Bry and he always would.

Renee had gone to Vancouver and, despite being a lawyer, he had no intention of contesting her demand for part of his personal wealth. He owed her that much but strangely, after just a couple of months, he no longer missed her.

He missed Bry.

Several times he had picked up the phone and started to call but always hung up when he heard Bry's wife Heather on the other end. The last time he tried phoning, rather than ignoring the churning in his gut whenever he heard her voice, he had focused on the feeling and discovered a new truth. He hated her. He resented the way she had stepped between him and Bry, and the way she had dictated when they could meet, often making it double dates so he had little opportunity to spend time alone with his best friend. Afterwards he would rant to Renee, calling Bry pussy-whipped and spineless, and yet Vaughn had been no better with Renee, allowing her to dictate the pattern of his life.

He phoned again, grimacing when Heather picked up.

"Heather, it's Vaughn. Is Bry there?"

The silence lengthened, and just when Vaughn thought maybe they'd been cut off, Heather sighed loudly.

"Bryan doesn't live here anymore."

"What?"

"He...He told me about Renee and he moved out several weeks ago."

Vaughn felt his heart sink into his stomach. "Where did he go?" He held his breath as he awaited her answer, suddenly convinced that he'd been wrong and that Bryan had found the courage to leave Heather and move to Toronto with Renee, just as Renee had hoped. It would explain why none of them had seen him since the hospital.

She rattled off an address and Vaughn felt his heart start beating again when he realized Bry was still here in the city. He thanked her and put the phone down, staring for several minutes at the address scrawled on the legal pad lying in front of him. No phone number though. Squaring his shoulders, Vaughn stood up and grabbed his coat--decision made. His secretary startled when he stepped out of his office.

"Cancel my appointments for the rest of the day, Claire. I need to go out."

"Yes, sir."

He could feel her eyes burning a hole between his shoulder blades all the way across the floor towards the elevator, grateful when the doors closed behind him. The downtown traffic was heavy as he threaded his way towards the less affluent residential area of the city. As he pulled up outside the address written on his sheet of paper, Vaughn froze for a moment, wondering if he was making a mistake but inside he knew he had to be the one to make this first step to save their friendship--or risk living out the rest of his life feeling empty, alone and full of regrets. Viciously shoving aside a momentary concern for his expensive car in this downtrodden neighborhood, Vaughn climbed a few steps to the bank of buzzers at the entrance way; he moved his finger along until he found Bryan's name. Pressing the buzzer, he felt his heart skip a beat when he recognized the tinny voice coming through the comm system.

"Who is it?"

"It's me... It's Vaughn."

"Vaughn?"

He was tempted to make light of the confusion in Bry's voice, tempted to say, "Yes, Vaughn, your best friend of twenty-three years." A few more excruciatingly long seconds passed before the buzzer sounded and the door unlocked. Vaughn pushed through and shut the door firmly behind him, climbing the stairs to the fourth floor where he found Bry standing in the doorway of apartment 403, waiting for him with his shoulders hunched and a haunted look in his eyes.

"Can I come in?"

Tight lipped, Bry nodded and stepped aside before rushing past to gather up a few items of dirty laundry and a couple of empty beer bottles. "Wasn't expecting anyone. Do you want a beer?" His voice held a tone of false levity, betrayed by a slight tremor of trepidation. Years in court had attuned him to the shifts that revealed truths and falsehoods, but he had many more years of familiarity to recognize Bry's fears. He wondered why he hadn't picked up on the affair sooner as, in hindsight, it had all been there, written across Bry's expressive face, and in his voice. Vaughn swallowed hard, suddenly aware of all the clues Bry had dropped as if begging Vaughn to sit up and take notice, and rid him of the guilt. Perhaps that was why Bryan had allowed Renee to manipulate him into fucking her when Vaughn was standing in the next room. Maybe they had both wanted to be discovered, wanted to see an end to the lies and subterfuge.

"Sure."

He accepted the opened bottle and watched as Bry sank into a seat by the far wall, as far away from Vaughn as he could get without climbing out of the window. Vaughn sank onto the unmade bed, noticing the expensive guitar leaning on the wall behind Bryan's seat and he wondered if Bry had played it since that day. It seemed to offer the right opening so he indicated towards it, part of him hoping Bry would recall the aborted conversation that had led to those two punches.

"You asked me why." Bryan froze with his beer partway to his lips, waiting for Vaughn to continue. "I bought it to make you happy...because you're my friend. My best friend."

"I'm a shitty friend."

Vaughn snorted softly. "Yeah... But you're my shitty friend."

Some of the tension left Bryan and his mouth curved up in a self-deprecating smile. "I tried to break it off so many times."

Vaughn nodded because he believed him. Putting the beer down, Vaughn rose from the edge of the bed and took the five steps across the room until he was standing in front of Bryan. He reached down and removed the cold bottle from Bryan's hand, placing it on the window sill before drawing Bryan to his feet. The tension was back along with the hunching inwards of broad shoulders and the downcast eyes and down-turned mouth. When Vaughn raised a hand to capture Bryan's chin and make him raise his head, he saw Bryan flinched. The guilt from hitting Bryan came back like a punch to his own gut. He forced himself to continue the move, cupping Bryan's chin. He didn't have to do much as Bryan was the taller of the two.

For only the second time in his life, Vaughn let emotion get the better of him. This time, instead of a punch it was a kiss pressed against the crooked mouth. It was something he'd never contemplated before Jon and Steve revealed the change in their relationship to include sexual contact but it had made him wonder if he reason they had all become such firm friends was because they all carried that capacity to love each other beyond the Platonic.

Kissing a man was different, feeling the slightest rasp of bristles that tingled against his lips; different but not repugnant because this was Bryan. This was his friend since childhood. Bryan was blinking in confusion--long, pale lashes fluttering against the pinkish tinge of his cheeks. When Bryan leaned in and kissed him in return, Vaughn let him, surprised by the dull ache in his belly and groin as his body reacted to the stimuli. He raised his hand, letting his fingers run through the long strands before cupping the back of Bryan's head and drawing him into another kiss that was deeper, and more demanding. Bryan let it happen, letting go a single, lonely sob that tore at Vaughn's heart as Bryan's arms wrapped around Vaughn, holding him tight.

Later, he would never be able to say who had moved them to the bed or who had started undressing first. He'd never be able to say who reached out first, curling fingers around hard cocks as they brought each other to completion, gasping out relief that went beyond sexual, beyond physical to their very souls. All Vaughn would recall later was the welcome weight of Bryan lying in his arms on the lumpy bed, and of the warmth of Bryan's breath fanning against his throat--and realizing that what he now had with Bryan was what he had been missing all his life.

END

-

NC17 slash - Insufferable - Rodney/Daniel

2009-12-08T08:15:19Z

Title: Insufferable
Author: Tarlan (tarlanx)
Rating: NC17 slash Daniel Jackson/Rodney McKay, mentions Jack O'Neill
Disclaimer: Not Mine!
Word Count: ~2950
Summary: Moebius AU. What if the time-line was never corrected?
Author's Note: For sg_rarepairings #553 Daniel Jackson/Rodney McKay - insufferable and fanfic100 #99. Writer's Choice

Daniel hadn't known quite what to expect when the military turned up at his English class and cited national security before manhandling him into a car with darkened windows. From there he was hustled onto a military jet and within hours he was in an elevator dropping at least 20 floors inside a secret mountain complex in Colorado.

What followed next was some of the most unbelievable and yet exciting moments of his life, hearing stories of Stargates, aliens and Ancient Egypt so fanciful that they would have put his theories to shame if they had not already followed that same path. As he'd said to Samantha, he'd always felt cheated by life and now he knew that feeling was based on the truth. The Daniel Jackson on the video camera, which had been in a vacuum-sealed Coptic jar in a recent archaeological discovery, was so self-assured. It was as if he knew he had nothing to prove to anyone and was respected by his peers--and he was out there saving the world. It was all so amazing; apart from the fact that he'd inadvertently managed to change the world in the process.

The only killjoy to this amazing experience was Rodney McKay.

The man was insufferable. Daniel had known McKay for barely two minutes before he decided that they were never going to get along. The man hadn't even accepted Daniel's offer of his hand held out in greeting, being completely infatuated with Samantha instead. Admittedly, Daniel felt sorry for Samantha but at least McKay's interest in her meant Daniel didn't have to deal with the arrogant man. Instead he was left to his own devices, working away in a cluttered room filled with books and manuscripts delivered on request. Of course, he should have realized that the military had no intention of trying to alter the timeline back to the way it was meant to be. No doubt the order had come direct from Kinsey, who had been less than thrilled to hear that Hayes was President of the US rather than him. Obviously, he'd not fared so well in the original timeline and had no plans to put himself back into that same position. Hayes had resigned from his office as Secretary of the Interior soon after, citing personal reasons, and Daniel had no doubt that Kinsey was behind that political maneuver.

They'd found the second Stargate exactly where Samantha had stated it would be after cross-referencing the dialing of the gateship to the seismic activity in Antarctica. By rights, Daniel knew his involvement in all this should have ended there but, surprisingly, he was still here in Cheyenne Mountain, tucked away in this musty room with most everything he had ever wanted. Damn, but he'd almost forgotten how much he loved the smell of old books and paper. Unfortunately, it seemed he had McKay to thank for his continued tenure. Samantha had gone though, probably back to her former life in Washington. As much as McKay had liked her sexy librarian look, he had hated being upstaged by her regarding the second Stargate and had decided he didn't want the competition. Or maybe it was because she finally got up the courage to slap McKay's face when he pinched her ass for the third time.

Daniel wasn't competition.

He suspected he wasn't even a real scientist as far as McKay was concerned, so it was a shock to look up from a crumbling manuscript written in an very old dialect to find McKay standing on the threshold and eying him curiously. Daniel pushed his glasses higher up his nose and tilted his head questioningly.

"Can I help you?"

McKay snorted. "I don't think so but as lead scientist I have to show some interest in what you're doing. Which is what, exactly?"

Daniel raised both eyebrows in surprise. "I'm cross-referencing material from Ancient Gr---"

"Yes, yes. Good. I feel enlightened already. Carry on." McKay started to turn away, obviously feeling that his duty by Daniel was fulfilled for the time being.

"It really is fascinating stuff. If I'm right then Atlantis wasn't just a city; it was a spaceship. A flying city, drawing its power from three of those ZPM... things, like the one that was found in the cave with the video camera."

McKay had turned back. "A flying city." He looked skeptical so Daniel nodded. "If legend stands correct then didn't it not so much fly as sink?"

"The legend never says it was destroyed, only that it sank."

"Hmm."

"Submarines sink," Daniel added, just to clarify, "And we are talking about the Ancients, the ones who built an entire network of these Stargates across the galaxy. They had to have been able to reach the planet to put in a Stargate."

McKay had drawn further into the room. "Which means they had space travel, and if the city was capable of the same then it would have been airtight."

"Exactly."

McKay stabbed a finger at him. "Aah! But you're assuming that this flying city was also a spaceship."

Daniel quickly rummaged through the papers spread out on his large desk. He gave a small triumphant sound when he located the one he sought and held it up, his finger underlining some of the symbols. "And a terrible plague...pestilence brought them low, and they fled into the darkness between the stars in the heart of their great city."

"Atlantis," McKay was seated now, with his blue eyes filled with wonder and intrigue.

"Atlantis," Daniel echoed, and smiled. "I think we can go there."

The eyes widened further as Daniel began to write out an address gleaned from several months of research through old manuscripts, some of which that had been denied to him in the past due to their fragility. He knew that he might never had made sense of the symbols in the past because he'd had no context for them, but Sam had explained the meaning of seven address symbols.

"Seven symbols...an address."

"Not exactly." He scribbled in one more just before the origin symbol. "If I'm right then this is further away than we though possible."

McKay grabbed the pad and stared hard, eyes flicking as his thoughts turned inwards to make mental calculations. Daniel had to admit that the dreamy look suited McKay, and he also had to admit that all that brain power really was very attractive. McKay had never shied from telling everyone he was a super genius, and from what Daniel had seen and heard, he had no doubts about that. What McKay lacked, though, was common sense. Someone to rein him in when he started over-complicating or narrowing his focus rather than looking outside the box. That was why Sam had seen the connection between the gateship dial-outs and the seismic activity in Antarctica.

"Why did you let Sam go?" he asked quietly.

"Hmm?"

"Samantha Carter. Sexy librarian?"

McKay sat back and stared hard at Daniel. "Despite rumors to the contrary...Sloppy workmanship." He waved a hand. "We needed a dialing device... other than the gateship. She was playing fast and loose with the protocols." He paused and smiled crookedly. "When I step into an elevator I'm relying on the operator program to hit the emergency brakes if the main brakes fail. She was ignoring many of the failsafe protocols just to get the Stargate dialing computer operational faster." He shifted uncomfortably. "I...may be a petty man on occasion... but I don't trifle with people's safety."

Daniel nodded, feeling some of the resentment he was carrying towards McKay fade away.

"Anyway, it's not like I sent her to Siberia, or even back to that dead-end job in Washington. She's at Area 51 looking at some of the alien technology uncovered near Giza."

"Why did you let me stay?"

McKay shifted uncomfortably again and waved his hand at all the dusty books and manuscripts. "Not my field of expertise." He held up a finger. "Not that I wouldn't be exceptionally talented if I chose to pursue that vocation." He folded his arms and lifted his chin with a smug expression. "I speak three languages and have a good grasp of several more...including this Ancient script. Though I'll admit that you're not totally useless and could possibly...*possibly*," he emphasized, "Understand it a little better than me."

"Why thank you," Daniel murmured, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his tone.

"Hmm." McKay pushed up and rubbed his hands together. "Well. Must be off to check on the rest of my minions."

Daniel bit back on a smile. Definitely insufferable, and yet he had a feeling he was actually starting to like McKay.

****

From what Daniel had learned, it had taken time to convince President Kinsey to allow them to actually open the Stargate to another world. Daniel could understand the arguments against its use as the video had made it pretty clear that the Earth had been caught up in several planetary--and galactic--battles since the alternate time-line SG-1 team had stepped through the Stargate. The coincidence couldn't be denied as the same could not be said for this current time-line, which would not have even known of the Stargate's existence had it not been for the video. There had been no Apophis or Anubis battling over the planet, and Kinsey saw no need for Earth to start fighting the battles of other worlds, slavery or not.

On the other hand, the possibility of possessing powerful alien technology would give certain countries superior weaponry in the event of another world war. That same technology might also protect the planet if it had been simply a matter of time before those Goa'uld came calling with the intention of re-enslaving the planet. All this had to be taken into consideration and was a far more persuasive argument than going through the Stargate simply to know what was out there, to stand on new worlds and study new cultures, new languages. Or perhaps gain insight into their own history through the knowledge gleaned from people stolen from Earth to populate those other worlds all those millennia ago.

What had surprised Daniel was that Hammond had authorized training for him, teaching him how to handle a gun and hold his own in a fight. He would never be a good fighter, and he kind of hated carrying a weapon at all but he understood the necessity as it hinted towards him being included on the first mission. He knew it would be his job to figure out a way to bring them home--to find the correct dialing sequence for Earth from whatever planet they managed to lock onto.

What should have been another surprise was how quickly he had come to enjoy McKay's company since that talk in his office. First McKay started dropping around more often and helping himself to Daniel's good coffee. Before too long they were meeting in the cafeteria on a coffee break, and then for the occasional lunch, sharing work insights and occasional glimpses into personal lives. He learned that McKay had a childhood allergy to lemons that he had, thankfully, grown out of, and a sister who was as brilliant as him but who had chosen to have babies instead, much to Rodney's disgust--and it was 'Rodney' now rather than McKay. In return, Daniel had mentioned losing his parents in an accident at a museum.

He didn't realize how far they had come in their relationship until the day Rodney leaned in and kissed him softly, tentatively before pulling back nervously.

Daniel blinked because this wasn't the brash, heavy-handed, lecherous approach that Rodney had taken with Sam. This wasn't the bordering on sexual harassment, ass-pinching and dirty talk that Sam had mentioned to Daniel in disgust.

"Well, that was unexpected."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. I'll..." Rodney hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "I'll just go now."

Daniel blinked again as Rodney turned away, and reached out to grab his arm, pulling him back. "Wait! Unexpected but not necessarily unwanted." He narrowed his eyes in confusion and stared deep into Rodney's eyes, forcing Rodney to look at him. "Samantha?"

Rodney's eyes went a little unfocused. "She was incredibly hot, wasn't she?" His eyes cleared and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "But I don't do...erhm...meaningful relationships with women."

Daniel moved right into Rodney's personal space and leaned around him, firmly pushing the door closed behind him and locking it. As someone used to dealing with semantics, and knowing Rodney was usually very clear with his wording, he knew Rodney meant exactly what he said. In contrast, gender was immaterial to Daniel. He could enjoy either gender equally as long as there was physical and mental attraction--and he felt both of those for Rodney.

He pulled off his glasses and dropped them down onto the manuscript-littered table before reaching out to draw Rodney into another kiss, one far less chaste. He was almost relieved when Rodney melted into the kiss with a heartfelt "oh thank god" mumbled against Daniel's lips. His fingers ran through Daniel's hair until he could cup the back of his head, holding him with the strength and gentleness of a man used to dealing with delicate machinery. Daniel's hold on Rodney was just as sure as the kiss deepened, bodies moving together, pressing from chest to hip but he wanted more contact. He wanted to feel Rodney's response and pushed a leg between the strong thighs--moaning as he felt the hard cock through the layers of clothing.

It took every ounce of control that Daniel possessed to pull back, almost shaking with the need to press against warm, naked flesh, not wanting to come in his pants like a randy teenager. He pushed the over-shirt Rodney was wearing off one shoulder, waiting until Rodney got the message before pulling off his own wool vest and shirt, and dragging Rodney back in for another heated kiss when both of them were naked from the waist up. Hands fumbled at belts and fastenings as they kicked off their shoes--pushing frantically at pants and boxers in an ungainly dance that would have brought looks of horror if they hadn't been so desperate. Naked, they pushed back against each other, one hand splayed across Rodney's back while the other clasped one firm ass cheek--a perfect handful, so perfect that Daniel had to cup the other cheek too. He thrust tightly against Rodney, glorying in the hardness aligned against his own rigid shaft, and trapped between their bodies. The urgency overwhelmed him, fear of discovery and too long an abstinence exciting him beyond all reason and he came hard. A soft cry muffled as Rodney bit down on Daniel's shoulder, body pushing hard against Daniel, hands griping almost too painfully tight as a fresh flood of warmth spread between them.

They collapsed onto the cot in the corner of the room, crumpling and scattering papers that were, fortunately, neither irreplaceable nor priceless.

Daniel leaned up and stroked a finger down the center of Rodney's sweaty chest, feeling the soft hairs against the pad of his fingertips. He circled one peaked nipple, watching Rodney squirm delightfully as the touch. Next time--if there was a next time--Daniel intended to take it slow. He intended to play with the pale, soft body lying sated beneath him, lapping at his nipples, opening him with his fingers curling against that sensitive gland inside, and drawing out the pleasure until Rodney couldn't take it another second. Then he would suck Rodney until he spilled down his throat before slaking his own lust deep inside the lax and pliant body.

"Oh yeah," Rodney whispered roughly, and Daniel realized he'd spoken his desire aloud.

The musk of male sex hung heavy in the air, mingling with the musty smell of paper and old books as he dropped his head onto Rodney's broad chest and closed his eyes as he basked in the afterglow.

****

Daniel stood in the gate room before the Stargate, geared up in military green with a handgun strapped to his thigh. He fiddled nervously with his notebook before pushing it into a pocket on his TAC vest. Behind him, Colonel O'Neill was checking the straps of Daniel's backpack before slapping him on the arm.

Daniel was still unsure on how they managed to persuade O'Neill to join the team, but maybe retirement on a clapped out fishing boat wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Maybe O'Neill needed greater purpose to his life. Still, Daniel was relieved as of all of them, O'Neill was the most like his counterpart on the video, and that meant Daniel could trust him to watch his back.

As the circle began to spin, locking in the chevrons, Daniel looked back up at the control room and saw his lover standing close to the window, watching him with a crooked downturn to his lips. Resolutely, he gave Rodney a thumb's up, having given a more intimate goodbye a few hours earlier, holding Rodney tight as he emptied himself deep inside his lover's body.

Daniel held Rodney's gaze a moment longer until O'Neill's hand slapped down on his shoulder.

"Time to move out."

The new SG-1--consisting of O'Neill, Daniel, Major Lorne and Lieutenant Cadman--walked up the ramp side by side. When they reached the top, Daniel glanced back up at the control room and saw Rodney raise a hand in farewell. Despite a sudden urge to simply run back down the ramp, Daniel knew he had to go though with this. He needed to know what was out there but equally, as he smiled warmly at his lover, he was glad he had something--someone wonderfully insufferable--to make him want to find a way back home.

END

-

PG13 slash - Ho'oponopono - Hawaii, Sean Harrison/Chris Gains

2009-12-06T12:39:39Z

Title: Ho'oponopono
Author: Tarlan (tarlanx)
Rating/Category: PG13/Slash
Prompt: Hawaii, Sean Harrison/Chris Gains, old rituals
Spoilers: None
Notes/Warnings: None
Summary: Chris has a burden that is making him ill. Kaleo knows that only Sean can release Chris from the heart-sickness.

Written for smallfandomfest FEST06

"What have you done?"

Chris looked up from where he was seated at his desk with his head in his arms, feeling sick and miserable. He groaned as Kaleo sank into Danny's vacant seat opposite, wishing the sergeant wasn't so attached to the old ways, believing that sickness resulted from some personal transgression.

"I swear, Kaleo, I haven't done anything. Probably just something I ate."

Kaleo nodded but Chris knew it would take a lot more to convince him that it wasn't heart-sickness but he was unable to summon the energy. Chris dropped his head back onto his arms, closing his eyes and groaning softly.

"Have you exchanged bad words with your partner?"

Chris opened a single eye. Danny was the least of his problems right now, especially as his partner was visiting relatives in California. He knew Kaleo meant well but he refused to accept the opening to discuss the problem, tightening his lips before uttering a single word. "No."

An exaggerated sigh followed. "You should not hold fast to the fault. If you discuss it with the injured party and ask for their forgiveness then the sickness will lift."

Chris sighed. He hoped Kaleo would let it rest but Kaleo treated him like a little brother, and often took it upon himself to mediate between his extended 'cop' family.

"It's not that easy," Chris mumbled.

"Was it a girl?"

Chris raised his head a fraction and opened the other eye, trying to give him a mocking glare but he knew he had failed miserably. Kaleo knew Chris's taste did not run exclusively to the beautiful, curvaceous ladies that swarmed to the beaches of Hawaii looking for holiday fun and romance. That was Danny's territory, and Chris was happy enough to let his partner cavort with as many women as he could manage. Still, Chris understood why Kaleo would ask if it was woman trouble as Chris had made the mistake of trying to hide his preference from his work colleagues by dating women openly but finding his greater needs satisfied in dark alleyways with nameless, faceless men. Snatching pleasure in the darkness behind a bar or nightclub hadn't been an ideal solution and Chris was lucky that it had been Kaleo on patrol the night some felon had raced into the alleyway with Kaleo only a few steps behind. He'd--quite literally--been caught with his pants down and his cock in some other guy's mouth. In truth, he was lucky the guy hadn't bitten down on him in shock. Now that would have taken some explaining.

Strangely, in the early days with Danny as his new partner he had felt worse about feigning interest and pretending that it was the big-breasted blond sunbathing nude on a beach that had caught his eye rather than the perfectly sculptured, naked man lying beside her. He'd hated living a lie and the stress of concealing his true preference had made him feel ill. He had to admit that confessing his homosexuality to Danny and gaining acceptance from his partner--and forgiveness for the lies--had been instrumental in healing him that time. But this time was different. He had never come out to the rest of his colleagues and now he found himself in the unenviable position of having fallen in love with one of them. He was sure nothing could ever come of it as Sean had been married once, and he'd had a kid too.

Holding back on how he felt about the older man was slowly killing Chris.

"Then it's Sean," Kaleo stated, and Chris bolted upright in shock. He thought he'd been discrete with his unrequited love. "You should tell him."

"Not a chance!" Chris glanced around nervously. "And keep it down."

"He'd be flattered."

"I don't want him to be flattered. I want him to--" Chris cut off his own words, afraid of revealing a little too much even to his friend.

"He'd be that too. Go on. Speak to him. Ask for his forgiveness for lying to him, and to yourself, over what you feel for him. Maybe that heart-sickness will go away then."

Chris winced. "It's not that easy," he stated again weakly.

"Then I'll make it easy." He pushed up as Sean and Declan walked into the squad room. "Sean? Chris needs to speak with you in private. Interrogation Room 1 is empty."

Even as Chris buried his face in his arms, he saw Sean looked across the squad room at him in confusion. Moments later, he heard Sean's footsteps and then the rustle of cloth as Sean crouched down beside the desk. The soft voice and a gentle hand on his arm drew Chris's head back up to meet concerned green-hazel eyes.

"You okay?"

Chris glanced towards Kaleo and saw the big man nod in encouragement. "Kaleo thinks we need to talk."

Sean smiled reassuringly. "Will the interrogation room do...or some place that really is private?"

Chris gave a tiny smile in return, knowing that both of them were fully aware of the one-way mirror stretching across one wall, and the sound recording facilities and video feed. Chris knew their colleagues would respect their privacy but he was grateful for any reason to escape the station and the inquisitive looks thrown in their direction.

"Want me to come help with the ritual?" Kaleo asked.

"Ritual?" Sean asked and Chris closed his eyes at Sean's confused question.

Kaleo answered, "Ho'oponopono."

"You've got something to make right... with me?"

Chris could sense the intensity of Sean's gaze on him and tried to brush off the uneasy feeling with a flippant wave. It didn't work. The others in the squad room had gone silent and, even without looking, Chris knew they were all staring.

"Come on," Sean stated firmly, drawing Chris up from his seat and leading him out towards the convertible. Sean must have sent out some signal as Kaleo didn't follow and, within minutes, they were heading out towards a secluded beach that was well off the tourist trail. Sean pulled over and climbed out, looking a little more concerned when Chris didn't follow immediately, not exactly eager to air his transgressions and his feelings, and crush the little hope he'd had of seeing those feelings returned.

"Chris?"

Chris glanced up, looking at Sean squarely in the face. He hadn't meant to let anything slip but the sudden widening of Sean's eyes told him he'd revealed something, possibly everything he felt for the other man. He swallowed hard, about to pass it off as something else entirely--some sickness induced emotion--but by then shock had turned to awe and curiosity.

"I guess we do need that talk," Sean stated, his voice soft and warm.

Still feeling physically sick at knowing he could no longer avoid the words, Chris was reluctant to leave the comfort of the car but Kaleo had been right--the churning in his gut had nothing to do with food poisoning. It was a sickness of the heart brought on by months of repression as he fell deeper and deeper in love with Sean, and by the lie he was living to hide those feelings. He stumbled out of the car and trailed Sean to a small rocky outcrop. Ahead of them was the Pacific Ocean, seemingly endless as it stretched across the horizon. Sean had sunk down onto a rock smoothed by the sand and tides, and waited for Chris to join him.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Sean tilted his head questioningly. "Did you think I would be upset, or insulted?"

"Embarrassed."

"Me or you?"

"Both of us." Chris scratched at the side of his nose, deliberately avoiding eye contact.

"Not sure why you thought I'd be embarrassed."

Before Chris had the chance to think through Sean's words, he had a different sort of answer as soft lips brushed over his own in a tentative first kiss. The tingling sensation remained after Sean pulled back and Chris couldn't resist licking his lips inquisitively, smiling when he realized Sean was doing the same.

Leaning in until they were seated shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, staring across the fine volcanic sand to the distant horizon. He felt a warm touch and laced his fingers between Sean's, the heart-sickness slipping away as the tiny flicker of hope for a future with Sean flared stronger. Later he would invite Sean back to his small house near the beach and they would complete the old ritual of Ho'oponopono with a small, private ceremonial feast. And if he was lucky, perhaps afterwards they would celebrate kala--release--more intimately in each other's arms.

END

A/N: From Wikipedia: The ritual of Ho'oponopono begins with prayer. A statement of the problem is made, and the transgression discussed. Family members are expected to work problems through and cooperate, not 'hold fast to the fault.' One or more periods of silence may be taken for reflection on the entanglement of emotions and injuries. Everyone’s feelings are acknowledged. Then confession, repentance and forgiveness take place. Everyone releases (kala) each other, letting go. They cut off the past, and together they close the event with a ceremonial feast, called pani, which often included eating limu kala or kala seaweed, symbolic of the release.

-

PG slash - Teasing Rodney - John/Rodney SGA

2009-12-02T22:37:47Z

Title: Teasing Rodney
Author: Tarlan (tarlanx)
Rating: PG slash McKay/Sheppard
Disclaimer: Not Mine!
Word Count: ~600
Summary: Teasing Rodney was always a pleasure.
Author's Note: Plot? Sorry, you won't find one here :)
For mcsheplets Prompt #59 Tease

"What are you? Twelve?"

It was Rodney's favorite taunt whenever anyone teased him or snickered at something he said that sounded like a double entendre, and with Rodney almost everything seemed to be innuendo layered with a surprising veneer of innocence. There were days when John walked around with such a big smirk on his face after teasing Rodney that he actually made even the hardened marines quake in fear, just in case that grin held evil intentions towards *them*. Those that had been on Atlantis longer quickly figured it out and realized that if they kept Rodney off-balance but 'happy' then they kept their CO happy too. Those that overstepped the mark usually found themselves on the worst duties, or on the Daedalus heading 'home'.

Looking back over his life, John couldn't recall a single other person who could bring out the twelve-year-old in him so easily; someone who could make him smirk even when his life was at its lowest ebb with death and destruction all around them. It kept him sane, stopping him from sinking into the depths of despair as world after world fell to Michael and his plague, to the Wraith, or to the Replicators. The snarky comments and 'we-are-so-dead' rants followed by the snap-snap-snap of fingers gave him a reason to keep on going when they were facing insurmountable odds.

Rodney's rants might have been legendary, especially in the laboratories on Atlantis, but the sheer child-like joy and enthusiasm he brought to his work was equally renowned. It was why most of those who had actually come to know Rodney put up with his less than stellar traits, recognizing them as the product of a social misfit who, nevertheless, had his heart in the right place. Rather than leaving his scientists disgruntled, they worked harder, looking for that moment of recognition and hard-earned praise from Rodney.

John waggled the Powerbar teasingly, drawing it just out of reach as Rodney snatched at it again. His grin widened as Rodney's eyes narrowed.

"Uhuh, not until you give your word," John stated.

Rodney crossed his arms and stuck out his chin, voice petulant, "Fine. Movie night in one hour." But John could see the lack of sincerity in his posture.

He waggled the Powerbar again, well aware that it was one of Rodney's favorites and with a huge put-upon sigh, Rodney gave in. "Fine," he stated again but this time John knew he meant it so he handed over the prize, watching indulgently as Rodney tore into the wrapper and wolfed it down in a few bites. His grin widened as Rodney hummed in appreciation, the little sounds of pleasure washing over him and sparking a weird tightness in his chest and stomach that had everything to do with what he had planned for that night.

An hour later John heard the chime on his door and felt that weird sensation again but, this time, it was mingled with anticipation as he opened the door to find Rodney waiting outside. In his hand he clutched the latest movie that was currently making the rounds--a movie that neither of them would end up seeing through to the end that night.

For once, John knew exactly what he wanted though it had taken a while before he recognized what this 'thing' was that he shared with Rodney. This time he was the one who casually drew Rodney against him as the movie played, and he was the one who turned Rodney's face towards him and pressed that very first kiss against firm lips.

When they drew apart, Rodney was watching him intently with a small frown and wary eyes.

"If you're teasing--"

"No," John murmured as he leaned in again. "Not about this."

And this time, Rodney's lips softened and yielded beneath his with a happy sigh and a whispered, "About time, Sheppard," as he began to tease John with promises of even more pleasure to come.

END

-

NC17 slash - On the Run - Jack/Rodney

2009-12-01T01:42:59Z

Title: On The Run
Author: Tarlan (tarlanx)
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis/SG-1
Pairing/Characters: Jack O'Neill/Rodney McKay, mentions Daniel
Rating/Category: NC17 slash
Prompt: On the Run
Word Count: ~1400
Spoilers: None
Summary: When O'Neill arrives in Atlantis, Rodney goes into hiding, expecting the worst. (Tag to First Contact/Lost Tribe)
Notes/Warnings: Written for sg_prompts #30 on the run and also meets fanfic100 #45 moon

Rodney knew from bitter experience exactly how protective SG-1 could be when one of them was threatened--he had the mental scars from Siberia to prove it after giving up on Teal'c too soon--so he was dreading the arrival of General O'Neill following the abduction and near-death of Daniel by renegade Asgard. Originally, Woolsey had planned on sending Daniel back through the Stargate immediately, having decided that Daniel would recover faster from his injuries back on Earth, and that had suited Rodney just fine. He had even visited Daniel in the Infirmary just to say goodbye, not so quietly relieved that Daniel would be in another galaxy with his team surrounding him before the day was out.

And he really was working on his inability to articulate his respect and--though he would only admit this to himself--caring for certain individuals.

He should have known something would go wrong and for some inexplicable reason, O'Neill would be most of the way to Atlantis on-board the Apollo at the time of his and Daniel's abduction--and only a day away by the time they had been rescued. The reason why O'Neill had felt the need to visit Atlantis at this time was the main debate in the labs. A few soft-hearted--or was that soft-brained?--individuals were convinced he was following Daniel on some love-lorn quest, while others were convinced O'Neill had formed some form of attachment to the city while he was here with Captain Helia and her merry band of now-dead Ancients--due to their arrogance and short-sightedness, and admittedly, his meddling with the Replicator base code.

Rodney had to confess that he fell in the second camp as he could recall O'Neill being a little reluctant to leave the last time around, despite being mentally tortured by the Replicators. He had remained on Atlantis for the three weeks it took the Daedalus to bring back the first batch of returnees. Rodney grimaced as he remembered how O'Neill had hounded him in the labs before the rest of their people had returned from their six week exile on Earth--and three week journey on-board the Daedalus. Every time he had looked over his shoulder, O'Neill was there with a smile... and cake, which he shared with Rodney, fortunately. It came to the point where Rodney had started sneaking along the corridors with a life-signs detector, feeling like a criminal on the run from the Mounties, trying to evade capture. Strangely, it hadn't worked as O'Neill seemed to have convinced Atlantis--the hussy--to mask his life-sign after the run-in with the Replicators.

Rodney could recall O'Neill's insistence on them sharing an evening meal every night--and no one had cared to disagree. It anything, Elizabeth had jumped on the idea but then she'd been part of the soft science brigade where life was one social event after another--in the name of political science. He felt a tightness in his chest as he thought of her, still missing her and wishing he'd known of a way to save her.

He hid when the Apollo landed on the east pier. It wasn't even really his fault that Daniel had been abducted alongside him, and that Daniel had been hit by one of the plasma energy spikes in the chamber. It could have happened to either of them at any time.

As the day wore on with no sign of O'Neill gunning for blood, Rodney began to relax. Eventually, he left his almost-secret laboratory and made his way back to his quarters. Once inside, he decided against raising the light level and stumbled into the bathroom, too tired to do more than strip off his day clothes and pull on boxers and the ratty t-shirt that he liked to sleep in.

"Aaah!!" Rodney jumped back several feet, clutching his hand to his chest.

"I was wondering when you'd notice me." O'Neill leaned up from where he had been sprawled across Rodney's bed. "Now, about Daniel?"

"It was not my fault!"

O'Neill was smirking. "Really?"

When O'Neill made no attempt to leap off the bed and beat him to a bloody pulp, Rodney began to relax a little, slowly bristling as fear was replaced by annoyance. Once more Atlantis had bent to this man's will, and it was bad enough that she rolled over for Sheppard at every opportunity whereas she was a little more reluctant to acknowledge his 'mouse' gene, as Sheppard called it. He crossed his arms defensively.

"Yes, really. I'll have you know I was in the same amount of danger as...What are you doing?"

O'Neill had rolled over and was dragging something from the shadows of his bedside cabinet...that quickly took the form of a large slab of the coffee cake that had been devoured by the locusts--scientists--plaguing Atlantis before Rodney had a chance to reach the mess hall.

"Is that?" he reached for the cake eagerly and was humming contentedly around the first glorious mouthful before he noticed O'Neill's smug grin.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Rodney glared because Sheppard said nothing when it obviously was *something*.

"He's right. You really don't have a clue."

"Who's right and what clue?"

O'Neill sighed and rose to his feet with a small wince of pain. Probably the bad knee, Rodney thought, recalling how O'Neill tended to favor it these days. Rodney held his ground as O'Neill closed in, holding the plate of cake closer to his chest, and willing to sacrifice a lot to keep it.

"This clue," O'Neill stated...and kissed him.

Rodney had forgotten he was still holding a fork and almost stabbed himself in the mouth as he lifted his hand to touch his tingling lips.

"You just...You kissed me!"

"WOW! You figured that out all by yourself."

"I..." Rodney stared hard as everything began to fall into place; the cake, the coffee, the evenings watching whatever O'Neill had saved on his laptop--usually The Simpsons. "You came here for me!"

Both eyebrows rose. "And he figures it out at last."

"I though you hated me because of..." He wished he could say it in hand gestures, "Teal'c, and Sam's hands...and Daniel getting us abducted by--"

"Daniel is a trouble magnet! Soon as I realized he was on his way here--alone--I hopped on the next available ship."

"The Apollo wasn't scheduled to come--"

"These stars have to count for something," O'Neill stated, pointing to the lack of insignia on his collar but the meaning was clear enough even for Rodney to follow.

Rodney blinked hard several times. O'Neill...Jack...had commandeered an intergalactic spaceship just to see *him*. The light bulb inside his brain flipped on a few more switches and everything became crystal clear, including the possibility that there could be mind-blowing sex--or at least basic hand jobs--attached to this, and Rodney was not going to turn down sex in any form with a hot USAF General.

He harrumphed. "You could have just said--"

"And where's the fun in that?"

Hours later, when Rodney awoke from a light sleep to the feel of heavy limbs pinning him down to the mattress, he let his eyes grow accustomed to the silvery light from one of the larger of the five moons orbiting the planet. In the moonlight, Jack's hair glittered as the light picked up the silver and gray, lending him an ethereal look that enchanted Rodney. He leaned in and pressed a kiss against the silver hair, smiling crookedly as Jack moaned softly.

In hindsight, it was a shame he'd wasted earlier opportunities but Rodney was not one to dwell too hard on past mistakes, not when he had the present and, possibly, a future to consider.

He pressed another kiss against the silver hair and closed his eyes. Perhaps he'd work a little harder at finding away to say 'thank you' to Daniel before Woolsey did send him back to Earth.

END
-

NC17 slash: Told You So - SGA John/Rodney

2009-11-15T21:09:06Z

Title: Told You So
Author: Tarlan (tarlanx)
Rating: NC17 slash McKay/Sheppard, mentions McKay/Keller
Disclaimer: Not Mine!
Word Count: ~700
Summary: Hindsight is a bitch
Author's Note: For mcsheplets

Hindsight was a bitch, and hearing I told you so from McKay one more time was going to send him ballistic. Maybe he should have heeded the warning and not touched that Ancient doohickey but, damnit, it had looked so inviting. He swore he had heard the thing calling to him, wheedling and begging to be touched--just like McKay on those times they managed to slip away somewhere private before Keller made her claim on her man.

He swore again as he looked in the shaving mirror he had demanded off a nurse.

"I'm sure it will grow back, Colonel."

But John wasn't in the mood for condolences and platitudes from a nervous Keller--or anyone else--and he was certainly not in the mood for McKay's sniggering. He felt an urge to be really mean and childish, but it was his hair. HIS HAIR! The stripe of NO HAIR from forehead to the back of his neck looked too ridiculous for words, and he knew he had only two options--a wig, or shaving off the rest--because he was damned if he was going to walk around Atlantis with the two-inch wide center parting from Hell.

"Anyway, Colonel. I think we can safely say that the device in question was a personal grooming tool," Doctor Westway stated.

"Really? And what gave that away?" John asked too sweetly with eyes narrowed and teeth bared; he turned and glared in the other direction. "Shut up, McKay," John gritted out as Rodney started sniggering again.

Hours later, John sank back on his pitifully small bed and stared up at the ceiling. He felt the pressure of another body long before the mattress shifted from the additional weight and sighed heavily, glancing sideways. Rodney was lying on the bed and leaning up on one elbow, with his free hand hovering over John's freshly shorn scalp. Strangely, he didn't look so gleeful anymore.

"I miss it already," Rodney stated mournfully, finally running his fingers over weirdly sensitive and naked flesh. "Do you think it will grow back? Just when my uncle lost his hair in a freak--" John glared pointedly at him. "Yes. Yes. Shutting up now." His fingers continued their journey. "Jennifer has nice hair." John gritted his teeth because the last thing he wanted to hear about was Keller's luscious blond tresses. "But it never felt the same as yours. I always thought I liked blonds but...I missed..." His voice trailed off as the fingers ghosted along John's stubbled jaw, across his lips. "I thought maybe it was just the hair but...But now it's gone and I still miss..."

As this day was already going to go down in the John Sheppard top ten of Worst. Day. Ever. One more crappy moment like a punch in the face wasn't going to make much difference, so he pulled Rodney down and kissed him, letting his lips relive the memory of lost kisses, letting the scent and taste of this man fill his senses again. But instead of pulling away, Rodney pressed in deeper, whining in that familiar needy way that John had almost forgotten. Rodney pulled back in shock, blue eyes wide and dazed.

"Oh God, this is so wrong."

"No," John growled. "No it isn't." And he pulled him down into another kiss that had John's whole body aching with a need to have Rodney writhing wantonly beneath him. Rolling on top, he arched his back, forcing groin against groin and feeling the answering hardness of Rodney's erection against him. Maybe it was lust, or rutting, or simple desperation but neither of them was fighting it, neither of them was trying to push the other away, grabbing instead, fingers gripping like claws sunk into flesh until John heard that soft, keening wail that heralded Rodney's climax and triggered his own.

Damp and sticky inside their clothing, they clung onto each other with Rodney's harsh panting slowing into soft warm breaths against John's throat.

"I'm not going to marry Jennifer." He burrowed deeper into John's neck. "She isn't what I need."

John smiled softly. Yeah, hindsight was a bitch, and John wondered how Rodney would react if he said I told you so.

END

-

PG slash - Oblivious John/Rodney

2009-11-01T21:15:04Z

Title: Oblivious
Author: Tarlan (tarlanx)
Rating: PG slash McKay/Sheppard, mentions canon relationships
Disclaimer: Not Mine!
Word Count: ~1120
Summary: Rodney takes his responsibilities too seriously--or does he?
Author's Note: Tag for Enemy at the Gate
For mcsheplets Prompt #57 Just in time

He was so late. Of all the times for his alarm call to fail this had to be the worst. Jennifer was going to kill him if he didn't make their lunch date for the third day in a row but he'd been up most of the night dealing with a problem with the auxiliary control console, not getting to bed until well after four that morning. In truth he could have done with a few more hours sleep after this past week of hell. Several systems had shown signs of damage following the desperate flight to Earth to stop the Wraith.

He thought he was just in time when he rushed through the commissary doors and saw her still sitting there, but she started to rise as he approached, the remains of her lunch on the tray in her hand. Rodney pushed by a marine who was taking up far too much space standing around one of the other tables, ignoring the muted cry of outrage and called out to grab her attention.

"Jennifer!"

Instead of being pleased to see him, she smiled tightly as he reeled off the events that had led to him being late yet again, expecting to see her eyes soften with understanding but instead, she shook her head.

"This isn't working, Rodney. I thought I was important to you but you keep putting your work before our relationship."

Rodney looked at her in shock. "My work is of ultra importance to the continued survival of... and, wait, didn't you cancel our last date because of surgery?"

"I'm the chief medical officer."

"It was a impacted wisdom tooth! Hardly life threatening! Any one of your surgeons could have handled it," Rodney exclaimed because he might not recall the names of all his staff but he sure could remember their recent medical histories, probably as a byproduct of being so concerned about his own health issues.

"I take my responsibilities very serious, Rodney."

"And I don't?"

"I asked Radek. No one would have died if you'd left that console until you had more time to spare."

"Oh, and if the Wraith attacked while I was waiting for that fictitious free time, and they took out the main control console, then we'd all die because we didn't have an auxiliary control console to keep the shields up."

"On Earth?"

Jennifer stared at him wide-eyed, with her cheeks flushed, and only then did he notice the deathly silence filling the commissary with all eyes turned in their direction. With anger fueled by embarrassment, she glared at him and walked away, busing her tray and leaving the commissary without a single backwards glance.

A warm touch on his shoulder had him looking round to find John standing beside him. "Oh god, I think I just broke up with Jennifer."

A grimace confirmed it, and Rodney didn't object when John nudged him out the door and into the nearest transporter, away from the stares following his very public argument and break up. It wasn't until he felt a cold beer pressed into his hand that he realized they were in John's quarters and he was sitting on John's ridiculously short bed. He felt John sit down beside him, shoulders and thighs touching; the jab of an elbow made him take the first swallow.

"You know, I'm actually relieved. I mean, I know I should be devastated but...but I'm not."

"Yeah, I know."

Rodney froze as the words sank in and he turned to face John, partly in horror, partly in irritation. "You know?"

"Okay, I suspected."

"How?"

John shrugged a shoulder. "You always make time for me."

"I?" It felt like one of those comedy light bulbs flicking on in his head. "I--I do, don't I?"

He did. He always managed to make time for racing cars on the east pier, or a game of chess, or catching up on the latest episode of whatever science fiction series they were currently working through, even if it was terrible. He made time for lunch too, though admittedly, John usually swung by his laboratory to drag him away from whatever was holding his attention, or returned with a piled lunch tray if he really couldn't get away. That brought a fresh thought. How many times had John simply sat on a spare lab stool--and where did that spare come from anyway-- chewing on a sandwich and stealing coffee while Rodney carried on working? It had to be a fair number of times as no one ever remarked on his presence.

"Oh god! We've been dating for years!" He poked John hard in the shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me?" But instead of embarrassment, all Rodney saw on John's face was open-mouthed, dumb shock, and it wasn't a good look on him. Rodney rolled his eyes. "Of course... Mr. Never-sees-it-coming."

Hazel eyes narrowed. "Oh yeah...Mr. Oblivious?"

Rodney stabbed him with a finger again, slopping beer over his hand in the process. "Ha! So you admit it!"

"Admit what?"

"That we're dating. That we've been dating for over four..." Rodney stared at John, aghast. "You cheated on me with that hussy, Laurie."

"Larrin, and no, I didn't cheat on you 'cause we're not dating."

"Oh we so are, and you so did."

John poked Rodney in the chest. "If that's the case then what about Katie Brown, and Carter? Don't deny you had a thing for her." He waggled a finger. "Fruit basket? Come to think of it, what about Keller?"

"That was... They were..." He slumped. "I like dating you. You're easy," he rotated a hand, oblivious to John's mouthing of the word easy. Rodney bristled. "Though there could have been a little more intimacy involved, perhaps some kissing," he added wistfully.

"That could be arranged," John stated softly, leaning in to press their lips together almost chastely. John drew back and his lips were now shiny; he licked them, making them even more shiny and inviting, and Rodney was not one to deny himself anything within reason.

When he pulled back from the slightly deeper kiss, Rodney felt lightheaded. "It's lucky I figure this out just in time."

"You figured it out? Just in time for what?" John's eyes seemed a little glazed and his words a little slurred even though they'd barely touched the beers.

"To stop you from losing me forever." He saw John's brow crease in confusion but decided they'd said enough for one day. Instead he leaned in for another kiss.

Tomorrow he'd delete the half-written resignation letter for there was no longer a reason to stay on Earth with Jennifer, not when everything he truly wanted and needed was right here on Atlantis, with John.

END

-

R slash - Manipulating Events - John/Rodney

2009-10-31T10:00:23Z

Title: Manipulating Events
Author: Tarlan (tarlanx)
Rating: R slash McKay/Sheppard
Disclaimer: Not Mine!
Word Count: ~765
Summary: Being sucked almost dry by a wraith should never be considered lucky--unless you are John Sheppard. Tag to Common Ground.
Author's Note: For sg_prompts #29 Luck

As far as Rodney was concerned, luck was for those who didn't have the skills necessary to manipulate events in their favor. For that reason alone he knew John was not some simpleton because the man couldn't have been more lucky if he had patented the concept, which was both impossible and unnatural. Therefore he had to be a master at manipulating events. No matter what they faced John always managed to scrape through with just a couple more grey hairs to note his survival from yet another life-threatening situation.

Or not as the case might be.

Rodney stared at the fractionally more youthful appearance of a man he'd seen on a grainy video feed being drained by a wraith only a few hours earlier. John should have been old and brittle, like Abrams and Gaul, but instead he was vibrating with energy as he stood just inside Rodney's room, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as the door slid closed behind him.

Rodney ordered the lights up and stared hard at the handsome face, recalling every line from before and noting the differences before then and now. John gave that little smirk that always drove Rodney crazy, except now it annoyed him for a different reason. There was one laughter line in particular that was definitely smoother than before.

"That's so unfair! He gave you back more than he took!"

John blinked hard, and then his hazel eyes narrowed. "I got lucky."

"Luck?" Rodney was incensed. "Luck is not getting captured by Kolya in the first place. Luck is not being strapped to a chair while they let a wraith feed off you. Luck is--"

He hadn't noticed his voice rising towards hysteria until it started to break. Neither had he noticed John moving towards him with his eyes darkening in concern but there he was, right in Rodney's personal space with his hands tightly grasping Rodney's shoulders.

"Luck is not having to watch you die in front of me," he ended in a rough whisper, recalling the way Kolya had laughed as the wraith thrust its feeding hand against John's chest. He'd been unable to take his eyes away as John aged visibly in front of them, with his dark hair turning grey and wrinkles deepening across his handsome face. Even Ronon had looked away in anger and despair at the time.

When they located John hours later, Rodney had braced himself for the worst, already running scenarios through his mind on how he could convince Elizabeth and the SGC to allow John to stay on Atlantis--if he was even still alive. He'd mentally reworked his busy lab schedule and written his resignation from the off-world team so that he could spend all his free time looking after John. If he could not persuade them, even with threats and blackmail, then he'd planned to resign and return to Earth with John. By the time they reached the clearing he'd built entire future worlds in his head, centered around each possible scenario, and yet with all those thoughts writhing in his head, he'd never once anticipated finding John looking younger than before rather than much, much older.

John pulled him in close and held him tight, pressing small kisses against his temple and hair.

"I was going to resign for you if they wouldn't let you stay. Go back to Earth and buy a small place on the beach... Take care of you."

The only reaction to Rodney's quiet words was the tightening of those arms around him, and Rodney sagged against John, letting the tension and fear of the last few days drop away. He didn't realize John was maneuvering them towards the bed until his knees hit the edge of the mattress and he dropped down. For once, Rodney had nothing more to say, too drained to speak as if it was him rather than John who had been fed upon by the wraith. He managed a token protest as John stripped him, grumbling tiredly as he was nudged beneath the covers. The hairs on John's chest tickled Rodney's back as John wrapped his warm body around him.

As the exhaustion of the last few days pulled him down into desperately needed sleep, Rodney heard John whisper, "I'll take a rain check on the beach house till we both grow old and gray together."

Surfacing for a moment, Rodney grouched back. "You'd better."

He still didn't believe so much in luck but perhaps with his brains and John's charms they'd be able to manipulate events sufficiently to have that future.

END

-

PG13 slash - Giving Thanks - SGA John/Rodney

2009-10-18T14:22:24Z

Title: Giving Thanks
Author: Tarlan (tarlanx)
Rating: PG13 slash McKay/Sheppard, mentions Jack and Daniel
Disclaimer: Not Mine!
Word Count: ~1970
Summary: Rodney is give a Thanksgiving to remember.
Author's Note: For mcsheplets #56 Post-series and fanfic100 #93 Thanksgiving

Rodney had attended enough thanksgiving ceremonies over the past few years on various planets that another should not have been too much of a worrying experience, except this one was on Earth. In the past, the official Canadian Thanksgiving was simply a day where he could have the laboratory mostly to himself. No one bothered to try to restrict access because not everyone acknowledged the day for whatever reason, be it lack of family or simple cultural differences.

Jeannie had invited him. With Atlantis currently floating in the San Francisco bay, he could hardly refuse to go, especially as she had implied that he still owed her big time over the whole Wallace and the nanites affair.

'Bring John with you,' she had said but Rodney could recognize an order when he heard it from his sister.

Convincing John to go with him was not going to be easy as the man seemed to shun family interactions with a passion that surpassed even Rodney's. Still, if Jeannie wanted John Sheppard at her Thanksgiving meal then John Sheppard was going to go even if Rodney had to get General O'Neill to order him there. Either that or maybe Rodney could set John up with Daniel's lecture course on the difference between religious and cultural festivals as pertaining to the denizens of two galaxies. Daniel had arranged the series of presentations for the sociologists and anthropologists over the next week, and that ought to be enough to send anyone running to Canada. But first, he'd give John the opportunity to say 'yes' without duress.

"Thanksgiving?" John looked at him askance, eyes narrowed in distrust. Rodney nodded. "At your sister's," he deadpanned.

"Yes." Rodney raised his chin and crossed his arms. "Jeannie invited both of us."

John stared hard at him for seconds that seemed to drag into infinity before relaxing suddenly. "Okey, dokey."

Rodney blinked hard, confused. "Is that a yes?"

John was already walking away but he threw a close-mouthed smile over his shoulder before stepping into the transporter, leaving Rodney feeling strangely deflated, having expected to have a fight on his hands. He froze in thought. Unless Sheppard was simply lulling him into a false sense of victory and was now halfway across the Milky Way by Puddlejumper. Quickly, he stepped into the transporter and only then realized he had no idea where to go. His finger hovered between the Jumper bay, the gate room and the mess. With a sigh, he realized he'd not be able to stop John anyway, so he tapped for the mess. He needed coffee...and cake.

Arriving on Jeannie's door step two days later, he gained a bright smile of welcome before Jeannie's eyes narrowed as she peered around him. Rodney bristled because he knew she was looking for John, making him almost wish he'd left Captain 'John' Kirk behind. She was a married woman...and she was his sister! Her smile came back wider when she spotted John walking up the path; he dropped their bags at Rodney's feet.

"John! So glad you could come."

"Hey! What about me?"

She smacked his arm in what looked like annoyance. "You're my brother," she stated, as if that answered anything. She looped her arm through John's and walked him into her house, leaving Rodney on the door step to follow on behind with the bags. Rodney dropped them in the hallway and peered around the corner of the door frame to check out the living room, relieved when he saw only Kaleb and Madison. He'd had a horrible suspicion that he'd walk into a full house of Kaleb's relatives, and as he'd never met any of them after refusing to go to Jeannie's wedding, it would have been more than a little uncomfortable.

Kaleb gave him a strange look before sighing and holding out his hand in greeting. Even so it took a nudge from John before Rodney stumbled forward to accept the handshake. The last time he had seen Kaleb, his brother-in-law's eyes had been filled with accusation and anger over Jeannie's abduction. Hopefully, the Prius sitting on the drive had gone a little way to appease him. Not that it was Rodney's fault anyway. How was he to know the SGC had a major security breach within their communications system? He'd fixed that as soon as he got back to the SGC after the kidnapping.

The next few days went surprisingly quickly and with none of the dreaded awkwardness that Rodney had anticipated. Perhaps it was mingling with the likes of Daniel and Carson that had made it easier to talk to Kaleb. Or maybe it was because he mostly stayed on the edge of the conversation while Kaleb and John discussed various authors from Tolstoy to Jane Austen. As he listened to John, he realized why John got on so well with Daniel. Perhaps threatening him with Daniel's lectures would not have worked after all.

On the last evening, Rodney retired to the guest room he was sharing with John, leaving John behind in the living room with Jeannie and Kaleb. Their bags were mostly packed, ready for an early start in the morning and he slowly stripped, pushing each removed item into his bag in a habit formed from several years on away missions. John stepped into the room as Rodney was pulling on the worn and comfortable t-shirt that he liked to sleep in. As his head popped through the neck hole, he saw John look away abruptly with a tight expression that implied a little guilt. Guilt over what, though? Rodney thought.

John sank onto his side of the bed they'd been forced to share and began to pull off his socks. He threw them towards his bag and then stopped to stare at Rodney. It took a moment before Rodney noticed.

"What?"

"Why did you invite me along?"

"Jeannie told me. Not that I wouldn't have wanted you here," he added quickly.

"Jeannie?"

"Um...yes."

"Not Keller."

"What? Why would Jennifer invite you to my sister's for--"

"I meant Jeannie invited me...not Keller. Your girlfriend." He narrowed his eyes. "Does she know about Keller?"

"Does she? Of course! Why wouldn't she know about..?" Rodney let the words filter through. John was right. Jeannie knew all about his relationship with Jennifer. They'd even met for a second time not so long ago--under better circumstances than when he'd had a parasite in his brain--when Rodney took Jennifer to Tunney's presentation. He had to admit that, on reflection, Jeannie had seemed a little cool towards Jennifer. She'd grilled her for over an hour before Rodney insisted he and Jennifer had to leave or risk missing their lift back to Atlantis on the Daedalus. When he thought about it, Jeannie had never mentioned Jennifer in any of her correspondence even though Rodney had mentioned he was in a real relationship with Jennifer now.

Rodney stomped down the stairs, knowing Jeannie and Kaleb were still in the living room.

"Why didn't you invite Jennifer?"

Jeannie's eyes widened a fraction. "You've been here three days, Mer."

He shook his head, confused. "And that has relevance how exactly?"

"Three days. In that time you've mentioned her name once."

"I'm sure I've mentioned her--"

Kaleb spoke up. "Once. At the table on Thanksgiving. You mentioned she'd have a fit if she saw you taking seconds on dessert."

"Really?"

Jeannie's face softened. "You rarely mention her in emails."

"I mention her all the time!" He flapped his hands as if to illustrate exactly how much he talked about her.

"Not as much as you talk about John," Jeannie stated softly. "It's all John did this, John did that."

"I'm..." Rodney drew his shoulders back. "What are saying here?"

Jeannie's face softened. "Oh Mer. I'm sure Jennifer is a lovely person but she's not in love with you and you're not in love with her. She's in love with the person she would like you to be...but we both know that's not going to happen. You're... You're YOU, Mer. And I wouldn't change that for the world." Her eyes flicked to something--or someone--behind him. "And neither would John."

He pointed at her accusingly. "You were the one that told me to take what I could get! If I remember correctly, you said 'You're no John Sheppard'."

Jeannie had the good grace to look embarrassed. "And I was wrong about Katie, but I know I'm right about Jennifer." She looked over his shoulder again. "And John."

"John?"

Jeannie stepped up and took Rodney's hands, stilling the frantic movement just as she used to do when they were younger; he gazed back at her in confusion. "Guess I still need to keep hitting you with the clue stick," she said softly before taking a deep breath. "When that parasite robbed you of..of most everything, the one person you remembered and trusted, the one person you said you loved, over and over, was John. Not Jennifer. When all else was gone, even me," she sighed raggedly. "You still held onto John." She seemed to give him a moment to let that sink in. "Jennifer was wrong to latch onto that one lucid confession of love for her and ignore all the rest of the videos. As you deteriorated, you lost more inhibitions and told everyone you cared about that you loved them...Teyla, Ronon, me, and even Radek... and then slowly forgot all of them except for John. He's the one you love, and who loves you back unconditionally." Her eyes blazed over his shoulder, daring John to deny it, and he didn't.

Rodney spun out of her grip to face John, who was hovering on the threshold. "You knew all this and said nothing?" John pulled a face. "No, of course you didn't. So when were you going to tell me? In a dying confession? Or were you going to take that to your grave." John licked his lips nervously. Rodney's eyes widened and he stabbed a finger into John's chest. "You were!"

"Hey!" John rubbed at his abused chest.

Rodney jabbed him again. "Don't you 'hey' me!" With anger and hurt stomping on his better judgment, Rodney grabbed two handfuls of John's t-shirt and kissed him hard, in a weird parallel to the kiss he had planted on Carson all those years ago while Cadman was in his head. But this time Rodney did not pull back in horror, waiting for John to push him away. He didn't. Instead John's lips softened, melting into the kiss as Rodney's anger flowed away into bone-deep relief that should have surprised him but felt so right.

Eventually he did pull back, gazing into John's glazed eyes and barely noticing as Jeannie and Kaleb squeezed past them, leaving them alone together. For once, words seemed completely unnecessary and pointless. Actions worked better and Rodney let John guide them into the next kiss, feeling gentle hands cupping the back of his head and holding him. By the time they parted, all of Rodney's incredible intellect was so much mush and he let John guide them back upstairs to their shared room, and the large bed that they had shared platonically for the past two nights. There was nothing platonic in the way they undressed each other and pressed together, hands smoothing over naked skin, touching with the awe of new discovery.

When Rodney woke much later, the sun was shining through the cracks in the curtain. He pushed more snuggly against the warmth curled around his back, feeling the tickle of John's breath against the nape of his neck, offering silent thanks to his sister for giving him this. He closed his eyes. The world owed him another day, and he could think of no better way to spend it than with his family, and with his lover.

END

-

NC17 slash - Zombie Movie - SGA John/Rodney

2009-10-05T18:22:44Z

Title: Zombie Movie
Author: Tarlan (tarlanx)
Rating: NC17 slash McKay/Sheppard
Disclaimer: Not Mine!
Word Count: ~1600
Summary: Sometimes his life was like living in a horror flick.
Author's Note: For mcsheplets #55 Movie - literally!
Not all are DH or JF movies. Some are titles of shows where they had guest appearances... but how many can you spot?

With a slow burn of anger, John sighed and smacked the wall of the barren, cube-shaped room. It had seemed a foolproof plan at the time, a surgical strike into the main laboratory of Michael's abandoned laboratory, and all for nothing. Carson had a reason to believe they might find some of Michael's notes on the genetic mutation of the Hoffan virus, which was spreading across the galaxy with the same virulence as the original Black Death.

The place had been deserted, according to the Ancient scanners two weeks ago, but now he wondered if the zombie monsters created by Michael had been in some form of deep sleep. They had attacked within minutes of them arriving on the godforsaken planet, and only moments after Rodney had discovered that the DHD was broken. Somehow, they had battled through the first circle of zombies but John had seen what looked like two zombie sisters pin Rodney down behind the DHD. A stronger male had grabbed Teyla by her hair, probably planning to hold on tight and never let her go but Ronon had gone to her rescue. Using a few Kung Fu moves, John had managed to kick the sisters away from Rodney, yelling at him to, "Get down!" as another zombie came up behind the stricken and bloodied scientist. Rodney had ducked and John had sprayed a dozen bullets into the creature. Only then had he made a grab for Rodney, dragging him to the front of the broken DHD.

He knew Rodney worked best under pressure but this was beyond reality, and he dared only occasional glances down as Rodney pried off the near-frozen panel, blowing on cold fingers.

"Oh no! Someone's made a dog's breakfast of the wiring! I'll never be able to fix it!"

"Never say never, Rodney," he stated through gritted teeth as he brought down a few more zombies.

"What's that supposed to mean? Are you blind? This is bad. Seriously bad!" The elevated fear had raised his voice to a high pitch.

By now Teyla and Ronon had managed to reach them, forming a triangle around the DHD to protect Rodney while he worked. He could hear Teyla's P90 spraying bullets into the attacking creatures, alongside the high pitched whine of Ronon's blaster.

Teyla's words were terse. "We cannot stay here! We must find sanctuary."

"Damn it!" He yelled but nodded his agreement, seeing more of the zombie creatures coming out of the woods beyond the icy meadow. "McKay, on your feet. We're leaving!"

As they raced across the meadow towards the trees, the zombies tried to circle them like birds of prey, sometimes darting in to snatch at them only to perform a macabre dance in a hail of bullets.

John was the first to go down and, hours later, he was convinced he was the only survivor. The man made structure gave him no clue as to where he was being kept but all he could think about was Rodney. His last image was of Rodney's terrified and bloodied face; his last sound that of Rodney frantically calling his name as he slipped on the ice. Men had grabbed hold of both of Rodney's arms, tearing him away from John.

He dropped to the floor on the dark side of the cell, thinking of his life before this day and of all the missed opportunities to tell Rodney how he felt about him. He jumped to his feet when the door swung open, weight distributed in a fighting stance only to relax when Rodney peeked round the door.

"McKay!"

"They said you were awake!"

"They?"

"Traders. They came through the gate a few weeks ago and couldn't dial back out. They've been stuck here trying to avoid Michael's zombies."

"They locked me up! In the dark!" Light flooded the room, making him blink.

"Um, sorry about that. Conserving energy." Rodney looked a little chagrinned. "You went down fighting even though they were trying to help us. Ronon too." Over Rodney's shoulder, John caught sight of a ragged looking man and realized how easy it had been to mistake the traders for the zombies. It had to have been hard trying to survive here.

"We're won't be overdue for a check-in for another couple of hours." Rodney squared his broad shoulders. "Look, this place isn't exactly the penthouse at the Ritz but we, and by that I mean Teyla and me, figured it was better waiting here than out there."

John nodded and smiled tightly at the man standing behind Rodney. "How many?"

"Thirteen of us," the ragged man stated quietly. "Originally there were twenty-two but those things..."

John nodded and glanced back at Rodney. "When Woolsey calls, we'll get him to send a jumper."

"And if we still can't dial out?" Rodney asked nervously.

"Then he can send us another jumper, and supplies, and we'll hang tight until the Daedalus gets here next week."

"Yes, yes, of course. The Daedalus."

Seeing the relief fill Rodney's eyes took away the last of his own tension and he followed Rodney from the room, only then realizing that they were holed up in Michael's laboratory. Ronon and Teyla looked up, nodding curtly as Teyla continued to dress a wound on Ronon's arm. He gave Ronon a questioning look.

"One of them bit me," Ronon stated, and John dampened the ill ease because this wasn't a 'dawn of the dead' horror flick. Carson had already determined that the only thing transferred in a bite was the usual nasty microbes and nothing more sinister.

"We must thank the Ancients for providing a safe place for us to rest," the head trader stated.

"Providence would have been arriving here in a jumper," Rodney replied testily. He ducked back down by a console. "I just need to splice..." He watched Rodney fiddle with some piece of equipment, smiling when Rodney glanced over his shoulder with a triumphant grin. "At least we got what we came here for!"

"That's good."

Two hours later, the dead air on the radio was filled with the gate technician's concerned voice. "Colonel Sheppard, come in."

John clicked on his radio, grateful that they were within range of the Stargate. "This is Colonel Sheppard. We have a problem, and some traders who'd like a lift home."

Hours later, John followed Rodney from the infirmary, glad that it was Carson rather than Keller who had dealt with the minor injuries. As much as he liked Keller, he hated seeing her with Rodney, knowing she had what he had long dreamed of having: Rodney. He'd noticed Rodney had cooled off towards her a little since the return of Atlantis from Earth, and he'd heard a rumor that she was considering returning to Earth to be closer to her father, leaving Carson to take back the reins as Chief Medical Officer. John wasn't going to make any assumptions about her relationship with Rodney though, figuring Rodney would tell him when he was ready but hoping Rodney was not about to leave too.

When they reached the junction where they would peel off in different directions to reach their rooms, John felt a certain reluctance to part company. Rodney hovered for a moment, grimacing as if he had something difficult to say.

"I'm not with Jennifer anymore," he blurted out. "Um. Chess?"

John blinked hard. "Uh, sure."

Rodney and Jennifer were over? And, for once, he hadn't been the one to come between them despite several attempts to push Keller in Ronon's direction by mentioning all of Ronon's strong points while casually disparaging Rodney's character. A little guilt made him clutch at the thought. Crimes of passion had been committed for lesser offenses than stealing a potential lover, and even though he'd never made a move on Rodney, he had wanted him for such a long time. He'd wasted years on autoerotica, dreaming of Rodney in his arms and in his bed. But if today's misadventure had shown him one thing, it was that life was something that had to be lived in the present rather than in a fantasy world. He'd almost lost Rodney again today. How many more times did that have to happen before he had the courage to reach out to him?

He waited until the door closed behind them and hoped he was not about to make the single biggest mistake of his life.

"Rodney?"

When Rodney turned, John cupped his face in both hands and kissed him deeply, reverently. He pulled back and stared into shocked blue eyes, the doubt beginning to coil and constrict in his belly, like a boa versus python death match churning in his gut. The smile slowly spreading across Rodney's enraptured face, lighting his blue eyes from within, sent a different feeling through John.

The next kiss had no reverence at all; nasty and dirty, biting and licking and sucking almost in desperation as they fought each other for dominance. Clothes disappeared and, suddenly, he had warm, naked flesh pressed against him from knee to chest as they fell onto Rodney's larger than standard issue bed, thrusting and pushing until they were both crying out in release.

Afterwards, John untangled himself from Rodney and leaned up on one elbow, staring down at his debauched lover. He stroked along Rodney's thigh, watching in amusement as his soft cock twitched in slowly rekindled desire. Rodney gave a satisfied sigh and opened one eye.

"If you take a picture, it'll last longer."

"Well, that would be one for the family album," John teased, before leaning over and kissing a man who was no longer just his best friend, but now also his lover.

END

-

PG gen - Gravity - John, Rodney (SGA)

2009-09-30T10:02:18Z

Title: Gravity
Author: Tarlan (tarlanx)
Rating: PG McKay/Sheppard, mentions Jack and Daniel
Disclaimer: Not Mine!
Word Count: ~1350
Summary: Challenges come in various forms. Gravity and friendship are but two of them.
Author's Note: For sg_prompts #28 Challenge fanfic100 #81 Paralysis.

Standing at the base of the cliff, Rodney looked up in both awe and horror as the others began to scale it. He was a doctor of Astrophysics, not Spiderman, though as he watched John, he wondered if the climbing walls from the bug incident was actually a part of him devolving or just an enhancement of a natural talent. Rodney couldn't see any hand or toeholds from where he was standing and yet John was scuttling up the rock face like a bug. The man in question stopped and looked down from about fifteen feet up, almost at the top already.

"Unless you're just planning to stand there all day checking out my ass, then I'd suggest you get climbing, Rodney."

If it was intended as an insult, a way to goad Rodney into climbing by questioning his heterosexuality, then it fell far short of the mark because Rodney was able to appreciate a good ass no matter if it was a man or woman's. Except for Sheppard's. "What ass, Colonel?"

That earned him a frown and an irritated look. "Fine. Just remember the gate's up here, so if you want a comfy bed tonight and meatloaf then you'd best get moving."

Rodney winced, recalling how he had bitched at the team for dragging him away from Atlantis on meatloaf day. With a put-upon sigh, he accepted the challenge before him and made the first tentative handhold to pull himself up, and then another. There was a small ledge no more than an inch wide, just across from him, and he moved towards it to use as his next hand and toe hold. He heaved himself up, fingers digging into the rock and jerked in fear as the weight of his backpack threatened to pull him from the rock surface.

He glanced up. "And we couldn't bring a Puddlejumper because..?"

John ignored him. "Come on, Rodney! Bet O'Neill never had problems with Jackson keeping up."

Rodney glanced up in annoyance at the irritated tone. "I suspect Daniel never carried anything..." He grunted as he pulled himself up another foot, "Heavier than a wad of tissues in his backpack, and a notebook and pen."

"Wad of tissues?"

"Allergies," Rodney started to wave a hand but instantly regretted it, hanging onto the tiny finger hold for dear life.

"Rodney has a point. Perhaps we should have brought a Puddlejumper," Teyla stated.

"Or lowered a rope--" Ronon added, only to be cut off by John.

"So he could hang there like a dead weight while we all pulled him up. No chance."

"I could have pulled up the little man easy," Ronon added.

"Hey! Enough of the little man comments!" Rodney yelled, even though he had to admit he was little compared to the behemoth that was Ronon Dex.

"It's barely fifteen feet to the top! My Great Aunt Sally could have made this climb in her eighties." Was that a whine in John's voice? Rodney thought as the words drifted down to him.

"Oh thanks for the comparison... except I sincerely doubt..." He heaved himself up a fraction more, "Your great aunt would have been able to...to lift this backpack, let alone climb the south face of...of K2 with it."

"Hardly K2."

Rodney glanced upwards for the next handhold but he couldn't see anything except... Yes. There. He just needed to reach a little higher and... His fingers caught the edge, brain numbing in shock when the edge crumbled. Unbalanced by the backpack, his weight shifted, pulling him away from the rock wall. Gravity took over and he fell as if in slow motion with a thousand thoughts racing through his mind even as he heard two voices frantically calling his name. The landing was a brief moment of pain and then nothing.

When he opened his eyes he found John's concerned face only inches from his own. "Don't move!" His voice was grave and firm, and Rodney could feel his fingers pressing into Rodney's shoulders to hold him down. "Carson's on his way."

"Oh no! It's my neck, isn't it? I've broken my neck and now I'm paralyzed from the neck down and I'll have to get one of those electric wheelchairs--"

"I'm sure it's just a...a..." John grimaced, trailing off.

"Just a what? A broken back?" Even Rodney could hear the edge of hysteria in his voice but he remained perfectly still, almost frozen in place.

"Oh, Rodney. What have you done to yourself now?"

"Carson! How did you get here so quick?"

Carson looked away. "How long was he unconscious, Colonel?"

"About seven minutes."

Seven minutes! Rodney could only watch in fear as Carson ran a scanner over his body before setting it aside.

"Now, can you feel--?"

"OW!"

"I'll take that as a yes," he murmured. "Well, lad, you took quite a tumble but I don't believe anything's broken, though you may have a wee concussion. Still, I'm going to use a backboard until I can confirm that diagnosis on the main scanner in medical."

"My neck's not broken?"

"No. I don't believe so."

"You don't believe so?" Rodney echoed, slightly perturbed by the lack of certainty. "What sort of answer is that?"

"The only one I'm going to give you until I've run more tests."

Rodney tried to be stoic as Carson and his medics strapped him down and lifted him but his eyes narrowed as they walked little more than ten feet before entering a Puddlejumper. He glared at John, who was walking beside the stretcher, reading the guilt behind the worry as he tried to placate Rodney.

"So next time we bring the Puddlejumper, okay?"

An hour later, Rodney shifted uncomfortably in his bed in the Infirmary. The Ancient scanner had confirmed only bruises and a mild concussion so Rodney had got off extremely lightly, all things considered. The backpack had actually cushioned his fall and, fortunately, the ground had been soft rather than hard. Still, his head hurt and he knew he was in for a bad night of being woken every time he managed to get a moment's sleep.

John stood beside his bed looking contrite. "Okay, look, I'm sorry! I should at least have let Ronon throw down a safety line."

"I could have died...or worse."

John looked away, and Rodney found himself relenting when faced with the full weight of John's remorse. He reached out and touched the black wristband, glad when John didn't pull away.

"Of course, you could make it up to me as I won't be able to carry anything heavy while this heals."

"Like your dinner tray," John murmured.

Rodney narrowed his eyes and sighed. Okay, so maybe he had been spending less time exercising recently--or no time at all--but Atlantis was going to fall to pieces if he didn't keep on top of the repairs, and there was still the Wraith out there even if Michael was now dead. He sighed heavily, finally understanding why John had forced the death march and climb on the last mission.

"I was," he cleared his throat. "I was never really that good at sports. I was always the last one picked for the teams," he grinned. "Except for ice hockey. I could skate rings around..." He took a breath. "I promise to let Ronon hit me with sticks... once a week," he added quickly.

"And run with me or Teyla two times a week?"

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Fine. Running always comes in handy."

The tension seemed to melt off John's body; the rigid stance flowing into the almost insolent slouch. John reached out and rested a hand on Rodney's shoulder.

"And I'll promise not to push you beyond your limits...unless I have to," John added.

"And carry my dinner tray for a week."

John smiled but this time it was loose and easy rather than a tight line of tension. "One week, and you bus it yourself."

"Deal."

As Rodney watched John walk away with a loose swagger, he wondered what other challenges he would face but he realized he had already succeeded in the greatest challenge of all; earning John's friendship.

END

-

Michael Biehn in Dark Blue

2009-08-25T22:32:46Z

Just a heads-up.

I have it on good authority that Michael Biehn will be guest starring on this week's episode of Dark Blue, Wednesday on TNT at 10pm. (US times)

Here's hoping someone uploads a copy for me to DL!

-

NC17 slash - Fate and Destiny - SGA John/Rodney

2009-08-25T09:31:07Z

Title: Fate and Destiny
Author: Tarlan (tarlanx)
Rating: NC17 slash McKay/Sheppard
Disclaimer: Not Mine!
Word Count: ~1180
Summary: Rodney doesn't believe in fate or destiny.
Author's Note: For mcsheplets Prompt 052 Destiny and fanfic100 Prompt 087. Life

Rodney refused to believe in fate and destiny; refused to believe that his entire life had been mapped out before he was even born. As far as Rodney was concerned, that sort of belief was for people who didn't want to take responsibility for their actions in this life, saying ever was preordained so all they had to do was sit back and do nothing, and everything they were supposed to have would come to them. It was an excuse for murderers and shirkers alike. It was why he had no time for religion, seeing it as yet another crutch for those unwilling to do anything to save themselves, leaving it for some supposed higher power to decide if they should live or die--or taking it unto themselves to make that decision on behalf of others by saying this was their destiny.

Oh, he'd had his fair share of bone-rattling priests sentencing him to death for his non-believing attitude but that had yet to change his mind about fate and destiny.

After joining the Stargate program he felt somewhat vindicated to learn that many, if not all of those gods and goddesses of ancient mythology were, in fact, long-lived alien parasites crazed on power. Although few would ever acknowledge his work on the Naquadah generators or on designing certain aspects of the original X-303, the Prometheus, he considered that his work had been instrumental in the destruction of quite a number of these delusional beings, including Anubis, the former Egyptian god of the dead. Without his breakthroughs on the older X-303 model, integrating Asgard technology, albeit with the assistance of the Asgard, Earth would have no deep space carriers such as the Daedalus and Apollo. He had been instrumental in giving Earth her own space fleet rather than one cobbled together from the bones of long dead civilizations.

He glared some more at Larin, the leader of a pack of scavengers calling themselves the Travelers. She sidled up to Sheppard and wrapped herself around him, a hand playing with his messy hair. Alien priestesses, horny Ascended Ancients and now Space Bimbos. How was he supposed to compete with the long list of beautiful women constantly throwing themselves in Sheppard's direction.

"I've got an Ancient warship, and you've got the gene." She ran a finger down Sheppard's slightly stubbled cheek. "We were destined for each other."

Rodney rolled his eyes so hard it hurt, almost blurting out that Sheppard wasn't the only one with the gene but, for once, he realized that he didn't need that kind of attention from some space bimbo. Instead he wondered if Daniel had the same problem with his ex-team leader, O'Neill. O'Neill had even managed to enthrall the Asgard with his cocky attitude and, unknowing at the time, Ancient gene--which was an incredible feat when he considered the Asgard were an asexual race. He bet they would have rolled over for Sheppard too.

"And if you join us, I'll spare his life."

"What?! You intend to kill me?" Rodney stared at her in horror. His eyes flicked back to Sheppard, only to be shocked once more as he saw all the boyish charm drop away from Sheppard's features as if a switch had been thrown, leaving behind the deadly soldier that Rodney had seen in every battle.

"She's joking, Rodney." His tone was jocular, placating even, and yet beneath was an edge of steel that had Larin taking a small step back. She recovered quickly, smoothing over her mistake with a dramatic sigh and flick of her hair.

"Of course. Why waste a talented engineer?"

"Talented? I'll have you know--"

"Rodney." The tone was firm, and though the tension in the air had lessened, Rodney could tell that Sheppard was no longer interested in Larin's little games. He knew it shouldn't surprise him at how protective Sheppard could be when one of his people was threatened, especially him.

"Captain? Another ship has just jumped in from hyperspace. We're being hailed by the Commander of the Daedalus."

Rodney gave a smug smile because he knew the Daedalus was a match for any ship in Larin's ragtag fleet. After all, he'd designed her weapons array and hyperdrive.

"I guess that's our lift home," Sheppard stated blandly, with a twitch of a smile.

After a surprisingly small meet and greet negotiation, Rodney's last sight was of Larin bristling as the Asgard transporter beam swept them both up, locked onto their subcutaneous transmitters.

"Colonel," Sheppard greeted Caldwell, and gained the same in response.

They could have been dropped off at the closest Stargate for a quicker return to Atlantis but now Hermiod was no longer with them, Novak called upon him to help her recalibrate part of the Asgard systems. The work took several hours, and afterwards, Rodney was assigned one of the guest quarters. What he didn't expect to find when he wearily opened the door in the middle of the ship's night cycle, was to find his bed already occupied. With a soft whuff of pleasure, Rodney stripped off and took a fast shower in the tiniest cubicle known to man, but space was of a premium on an intergalactic ship. Clean and almost dry, he dropped the towel and climbed naked into the bed behind Sheppard, his arms snaking around his lover.

Sheppard stretched a little, pressing back against him to enjoy the embrace before shifting until they were face-to-face.

"You do realize we're on a mostly US military spaceship," Rodney murmured, "And the override on the lock wouldn't keep out Novak if Caldwell gave her the order to open the door."

Sheppard--John--smiled indulgently, preferring the non-verbal response of simply leaning in and kissing away any doubts that he knew exactly what he was doing, and with whom and where. He rolled over on top of Rodney, trapping him beneath his surprisingly heavy body. The stiffness of John's erection poked Rodney hard in the stomach, but Rodney barely noticed as he rocked beneath John, making tiny thrusts that brought the most exquisite sensations racing through him.

All too soon, those heady sensations built into a slow but satisfying climax, and he came back down from the endorphins high to the feel of more kisses pressed over his face and neck. John squirmed against him but Rodney had grown used to his strange quirk of John liking the stickiness between them, before it dried and became irritating. He felt a hand push between them, knew it would be sticky with their mingled come and sighed as John sucked at his own finger before smearing a little of it over Rodney's lips just before kissing him deeply.

As he slipped towards sleep, Rodney hoped John would finish indulging in his mild come kink before they became glued together, and cleaned them both up. His last thought before sleep claimed him was that perhaps it was lucky he didn't believe in fate and destiny, or he might have sat around waiting for John Sheppard rather than simply going out and getting him.

END

-

PG slash: Hand Gestures - SGA McKay/Sheppard

2009-08-13T23:57:14Z

Title: Hand Gestures
Author: Tarlan (tarlanx)
Rating: PG slash McKay/Sheppard
Disclaimer: Not Mine!
Word Count: ~980
Summary: Atlantis makes a quick stop on the way home to Pegasus.
Author's Note: Post Season 5
For mcsheplets Prompt 051 Handy and fanfic100 Prompt 071. Broken

Jack stepped back as yet another dulled and cracked crystal was casually thrown aside. Beneath the console came a high-pitched screech that had both him and Sheppard stepping forward anxiously even though Jack was certain it wasn't Sam crying out. Any concern for either of the scientists currently trying to fix the console was forgotten when the scream was followed by twin rants, each of a different caliber.

"If you're deliberately trying to electrocute me then, congratulations, Colonel! You just succeeded."

"Don't be such a baby, McKay! It was barely a buzz!" Sam's disgruntled voice drifted out from beneath the console where she was wedged shoulder to shoulder with McKay.

"This is payback, isn't it? For when you burned your hand."

"For when YOU burned my hand."

"Oh, come on! If you hadn't-- OUCH!"

"Get on with it, Rodney," growled Sheppard and Jack smirked, wishing he'd thought of kicking McKay first, if only because he could hardly kick Sam.

"Oh, and as if that's going to make me work any faster when I'm already going as fast as humanly possible!"

"Then try IN-humanly possible... No offense," Sheppard grimaced and shrugged as Teal'c raised an eyebrow.

Teal'c declined his head politely. "None taken."

Daniel caught Jack's eye, looking more anxious with each passing second. "Three minutes."

"Don't make me come under there, Carter," growled Jack, and Sheppard's mouth twitched in approval.

"We're going as fast as we can, sir."

"There!" A triumphant shout came from Rodney moments later, followed by an almost ungrudging, "Good job, McKay," from Sam.

Both of them started to wriggle out, with more bickering as, no doubt, elbows and shoulders bumped. Sheppard solved part of the problem by grabbing one of McKay's legs, and Jack took the hint and grabbed the other. With a yelp of disapproval from below, they pulled hard and Jack found himself staring down into McKay's shocked and then outraged expression. His face turned an even more spectacular shade of red, hand going to the small of his back.

"Oh, thank you very much. That's going to need a chiropractor."

"You're welcome," Sheppard stated blandly.

"Um... We have less than two minutes until impact," Daniel stated, eyes catching Jack's, his jaw tight with tension.

McKay snapped his fingers and Sheppard dutifully offered a hand up as McKay scrabbled to his feet, while Teal'c did likewise for Sam, both of them immediately pushing and shoving at each other as they both tried to activate the console simultaneously. The battle of wills ended when they each gravitated towards one part of the console, working together in perfect synchronicity until, with a final flourish, McKay pushed down on one control and they turned almost as one to watch the Atlantis city shield rise smoothing upwards. Jack followed Daniel and Sheppard out onto the control room balcony and watched as explosions bloomed against the shield.

Having Atlantis make a pit stop in Lucian Alliance territory on her way back to Pegasus had almost backfired on them when a surprise attack had damaged the shield emitters. The intention had been to break the stranglehold the Alliance had on that sector but someone had forewarned them, setting up an ambush that had crippled the city. Although he'd hate to admit it, they were fortunate to have the foremost expert in Ancient technology on-board at the time, and McKay had managed to keep the city together until Sheppard could land her, but it had taken both McKay and Sam to fix the damage before this final attack.

At times like these he realized how handy it was to have Sam, or even McKay around.

Jack turned to offer a smug grin at Sheppard but Sheppard's attention was firmly focused elsewhere as McKay joined them. He saw McKay's hands flutter in an abortive gesture, as if they had subconsciously reached for Sheppard before conscious thought kicked in. He knew that gesture well, often catching the mistake in himself as he reached for Daniel without a thought, only to quickly reel in his thoughts and his hands. Fortunately, Daniel was far more the touchy-feely type and covered for any mistakes that could lead to problems, and he had never been too standoffish with Daniel even in the beginning. Sheppard, on the other hand, had always seemed to shy away from any personal contact, rarely reaching out to anyone...except his team, and McKay in particular.

Jack wondered if anyone else had noticed, or if they had become used to the fact that Sheppard placed affectionate claps, slaps, pokes and kicks on just one person, looking awkward if anyone else reached out to him.

McKay's hands were moving again, never still, as if they had no resting place; Jack wondered if that changed when he and Sheppard were alone. He wondered if the touches became still and sure with intimacy.

Looking up from McKay's hands, he caught a look on Sheppard's face that was a familiar mix of worry and irritation; familiar because Daniel often sported that same expression of possessiveness, mostly whenever Sam was unintentionally pining over him. After all these years, Jack had hoped that particular unrequited love for him had died but even his separation from the team since his promotion to General had not dulled her love interest.

Daniel bumped shoulders with him. "Deep thoughts?"

"They do happen occasionally," he stated archly.

The danger was over for the time being, with the Lucian Alliance retreating now the shields were at full strength. As a swaggering my ship is bigger than yours gesture, it hadn't gone exactly the way Jack had hoped but maybe it would give the Alliance pause for thought. Tomorrow, he would gate back to Earth with Daniel, Sam and Teal'c and leave Atlantis to carry on her journey home but, for now, though, everyone deserved a break.

Jack was going to make a point not to notice if a certain Colonel and Chief Scientist took that rest break together while he had a personal conversation with his own lover, Daniel.

END

-

PG gen - Demon Spawn - Darklight

2009-07-31T16:46:41Z

Title: Demon Spawn
Author: Tarlan (tarlanx)
Fandom: Darklight
Pairing/Characters: Anders Raeborne & Will Shaw
Rating/Category: PG/Gen
Prompt: Demon Spawn
Word Count: ~1330
Spoilers: None
Summary: Will decides that Lilith's demon spawn, Anders Raeborne, deserves a chance of redemption too.
Notes/Warnings: Written for smallfandomfest FEST05

Will watched as the creature battered against the walls of the cell, its leathery wings beating the air and tongue lashing out in anger but to no great effect. The walls were made of solid steel and the single large window pane was of highly toughened glass, built to withstand more than this creature could throw at it. Eventually, the Demonicos began to calm, talons scoring the wall but barely making a scratch as it began to pace until, finally, it stopped and sank down on its haunches in the center of the cell. The leathery wings wrapped around its sinewy torso, and it bowed its head, revealing the damage where Lilith had sliced open its skull in an attempt to decapitate it earlier that day.

The scientists had only needed its head. They had needed the Red Plague producing part of its brain in order to produce a vaccine but, like most demon spawn, it had not been killed by their surgical incisions. The Darklight running through its blood had repaired damage made by normal materials.

Will recalled his second encounter with it, emptying shotgun blast after blast into it with little impact. It had leaped down from the rafters and grabbed him after knocking Lilith aside, talons sinking into the back of his neck, into the brain stem. Somehow, it had managed to communicate through him to Lilith, stealing his thoughts from his head, laying bare Will's feelings for the female demon that had slain his only son.

Discovering that the Demonicos was not some mindless monster in demon form should have abhorred Will, for it meant it was capable of understanding its actions. Instead, Will had felt a stirring of compassion when he realized that it could feel confused, that it could wonder why Lilith was fighting it when they were one in the same, made of the same Darklight. Yet Lilith had insisted she was nothing like it. She had insisted that she wasn't controlled by the urge to destroy any living thing that came within her grasp. Perhaps that had become true over these past years, but how could three years of amnesia and a few days of contrition negate the acts of violence stretching back to the dawn of time? How could such a short time atone for all the names written on the memorial war in The Faith's headquarters?

How could it absolve her for the death of his son at her hand?

As the fight drained out of the Demonicos, it slowly evolved back into human form, revealing the battered naked body of Anders Raeborne. The fight with Lilith had taken its toll on Raeborne, her Darklight-infused weapons scoring it deeply where normal weapons had failed. He looked small and vulnerable, bruised arms wrapped around his skinned knees, and blood congealing along his ribcage, and from his temple into the hairline.

He looked tired and defeated.

Will knew all of Raeborne's history. From the file it seemed that all Raeborne had ever wanted was to know his father's pride in him, and to gain what he deemed his rightful accolades for all his work towards a longevity treatment - the so-called fountain of youth. Although he could not condone Raeborne's methods, Will could understand his grievances, how he had been used by his so-called partners before being cast aside. He saw how they had publicly condemned and denounced Raeborne's methods while quietly building on his work for their own fame and reward. They had been his accomplices and yet they had made him their scapegoat.

On reflection, he could see how easily it had been for someone like Chapel to manipulate Raeborne into becoming an instrument of destruction; a mere pawn in Chapel's plans to force Judgment Day upon humanity. Chapel had called Raeborne petty, seeking only personal revenge and, perhaps, Raeborne had never realized that he would be fulfilling a different prophesy and would become the source of the Red Plague.

What Chapel hadn't countered on was Raeborne turning on him once he learned the truth; that he'd been used and would be cast out again once Chapel had finished with him.

Unlike Chapel, Will had not allowed hatred and grief to consume him, to blind him to the possibility that Lilith could atone for her millennia of sins. In comparison, this Demonicos was a mere child with far less blood on its hands than Lilith, and if she could find redemption then why not this fledgling demon too?

When Will reached for the door, intending to enter, he felt fingers close around his forearm and turned to The Prefect.

"He can never be wholly human again."

From being cast aside, Raeborne was now cast down, as much demon spawn as human.

"Neither can Lilith but if she can find forgiveness then why not him too," he replied softly, having found the strength within him to make the first small steps towards forgiving her.

The Prefect let go of his arm and smiled, nodding in acceptance of his words. The door locked behind Will, leaving him alone in the cell with Raeborne. He watched as the man raised his head, blue eyes darkened in anger and pain, and his mouth a tight, crooked line that dipped at one corner.

"I remember you."

Will nodded, strangely pleased that he hadn't been some quickly forgotten body coming between Raeborne and Lilith during the fight.

"If you hated her so much then why did you help her against me?" Raeborne asked, voice filled with misery as well as anger.

"Why didn't you kill me?" Will countered. The Demonicos had shown little to no mercy to others so why had it allowed him to live?

He thought back to that moment when the Demonicos had grabbed hold of him, speaking through him. It could have easily snapped his neck or torn out his throat but, instead, it had simply shoved him aside and continued the attack on Lilith once it had failed to persuade her to join forces with it. On reflection, it could have killed Will on three separate occasions, easily, but had let him live. Even when Will was struck with its plague-delivering tongue, Will knew it had not been intentional. It had been aiming at Lilith but she had ducked aside and Will had simply been in the wrong place.

"Chapel was right. You are a petty man, wanting vengeance on those that had hurt you, but only on them. You were never a mass murderer, not intentionally."

Raeborne looked away, looking even more miserable. "It was all lies fed to my father, conspiring against me so they could steal all my work. None of them questioned my methods, or the trials... not until my father found out. They even provided the test subjects, said they were terminal cases and had signed contracts for large sums of money for their families."

"The...creatures in the cells?"

"The Lilith Strain would have cured them, and not just from the side effects of the previous experiments but from their terminal cancers too." His voice lowered. "It should have cured them too. I should have known Chapel had lied to me. Should have known that nothing came without a price."

He looked back up, directly into Will's eyes, giving a self-deprecating laugh.

"I won't survive long without more Darklight...and maybe that's for the best."

"Chapel lied about that too, and you must have known that or why else would you have considered killing the only pure source of what you needed to survive? Unless, deep down, you wanted to die."

He waited while Raeborne thought over his words, waited for a sign and found it when Raeborne sighed raggedly.

"If Lilith can be redeemed, then so can you. If you want it bad enough."

Blue eyes full of anguish lifted to meet Will's but in them Will thought he could also see a glimmer of hope. Perhaps it would be enough to give Anders Raeborne a second chance.

END

-

NC17 slash - Security Measures - Emmett/Brendan (BvsP/TC)

2009-07-30T22:24:41Z

Title: Security Measures
Author: Tarlan (tarlanx)
Fandom: Boa Vs Python/Thoughtcrimes
Pairing/Characters: Emmett/Brendan
Rating/Category: NC17/Slash
Prompt: Poison
Word Count: ~3050
Spoilers: None
Summary: While assisting in the security of a conference, Brendan meets Emmett for the first time.
Notes/Warnings: Written for smallfandomfest FEST05 but also meets hewligan_100 039 Dressed Up

When he was given the assignment of assisting with the security arrangements surrounding a conference on the Use of Animals in Law Enforcement situations, Brendan had to endure various jokes from his colleagues. He took the Doctor Doolittle jokes with a tight smile but the snake jokes were really beginning to annoy him. So what if there was going to be some scientist who had a big snake?

Last month Brendan had decided he'd had enough of hiding his sexual preference, finally admitting to his work colleagues that he was gay. He thought they had been okay with the revelation but the giant snake jokes from Hilliard bordered on sexual harassment and if they didn't stop soon then Brendan was going to punch him.

Freya laid her small hand on his arm. "He's confused...and unsure how to relate to you now."

"Well he can relate to my fist if he keeps it up. It's not like I've changed from the person I was last month."

"No, but his perception of you has changed. Some people need a little more time to adjust. He's not worth getting suspended or being fired over."

Brendan gave her a long look that she wouldn't need to be a mind reader to understand, but she gave back as good as she got from him until, finally, he huffed out a breath. Freya was right. It wasn't worth losing his job over, and perhaps he was being a little oversensitive. Still...

"One more crack about giant snakes and..."

"Agent Dean?"

Brendan sighed and turned at the unfamiliar voice to find a scruffy-looking man with a five-o'clock shadow and slightly unkempt hair standing behind him. The instant he finished cataloging those features, his eyes roved swiftly down the rest of the man's body, taking in the broad shoulders and chest emphasized by the dark t-shirt, and the baggy cargo pants that failed to conceal the strong thighs. Above the stubble-roughened jaw, a soft wide mouth and startling blue eyes momentarily mesmerized Brendan. Brendan swallowed hard; the guy was seriously hot.

Any other thoughts were cut short by a small but vicious kick from Freya.

Brendan cleared his throat. "Yeah, I'm Special Agent Dean."

The man smiled, revealing small but perfect white teeth. "Your man over there... Hilliard? Told me to tell you all about my snake."

"He did, did he?" Brendan gave a tight smile, glancing over to where Hilliard was smirking broadly. Seriously hot or not, Brendan took a breath, intending to tell the guy that he didn't appreciate the juvenile jokes but the guy stuck out a hand.

"Doctor Emmett, herpetologist." Emmett's smile faltered and he pulled back his hand. "I'm attending the conference on Use of animals in Law Enforcement."

"Sure, Dr. Emmett. What can I do for you?"

"Your security isn't going to be enough. Betty... She's a big snake."

"Big as in ten...fifteen feet?"

"Closer to fifty...and still growing."

Brendan knew he'd gone wide-eyed in a mixture of shock and awe. "Fifty?"

"The glass enclosure is just as I specified, though I'd like for it to have been a little larger but the access security is... Well, I wouldn't care to see anyone eaten...again."

"Again?"

"Though strictly speaking, that wasn't Betty's fault entirely. She was protecting her eggs...and herself...and possibly me." Emmett took a deep breath. "You have to understand, there are people who'd like to ruin my life's work, or simply destroy Betty, which pretty much amounts to the same thing."

"Okay. I'll look into the security around the enclosure."

"Before this evening? That's when the transport gets here."

He stuck out his hand again and, this time, Brendan reached back quickly, eagerly gripping the strong, lean fingers within his own and squeezing. Their eyes met and held, frozen in place for a few seconds longer that what could be considered appropriate before Freya held her hand out between them, breaking the spell. Brendan released his grip and stepped back while Emmett shook hands with Freya. He noticed Emmett glancing back over his shoulder as he left the office, his cheeks a little pinker, and eyes a little brighter still.

Freya nudged him, grinning broadly. "He likes you too," she whispered before heading away, leaving him momentarily lost in thought until he remembered he had a job to do.

****

With the conference due to start tomorrow, Brendan went to the center attached to one of the best hotels in the city to verify all the security arrangements, though he had to admit that it was partly because he was intrigued by Emmett, and the giant snake that he was bringing along. When he reached the massive glass enclosure, he had to admit that he couldn't understand why Emmett was fretting. It looked extremely secure with an airlock-styled opening mechanism where the inner door could not be opened unless the outer door was locked.

Emmett was inside the enclosure, filling a deep pool with water. Taking in the enclosure and all the vegetation placed within, this was an expensive outlay for such a small conference but the government had to have a good reason for spending all that money. Emmett spotted him and smiled, beckoning him to come on in. Inside it was humid, like a tropical rain forest.

"So, I've been over the plans with the organizers and I can't see a security problem."

"Two things. First, the access mechanism doesn't work. Well, it does work...but it doesn't." He huffed in annoyance. "The outer door has a keypad access and both doors are set on a timer. Close one door, wait thirty seconds before opening the other."

Brendan frowned. "And the problem?"

"It doesn't *lock* the outer door just closes it. After thirty seconds..."

"No second access key is needed and after thirty seconds, both doors could be opened together."

"That wouldn't be a problem at Longreen because I'm the only one with access to the laboratory, but here..."

"Got it. And the second problem?"

"The food supply."

"The food?"

"Betty eats live snakes. If someone was to get to her food supply, poison it perhaps, then..." Emmett sighed. "At Longreen, everything is under tight security protocols. And I mean everything. Here?" He pointed to a large glass tank on the outside of the enclosure, filled with slithering snakes of sizes ranging from what Brendan would consider large to huge. He recognized some of them as rattlers.

Brendan got it immediately, realizing that practically anyone had access to the food snakes, if they wanted to take such a risk. At the very least, their placement could be a danger to those attending the conference should someone rig the smaller glass enclosure to open.

He nodded. "It's a little too late to go changing the locking mechanism, I'm afraid, but I can arrange to have additional security guards around this whole area."

Brendan got onto that immediately. By the time the new security guards were in place, with strict instructions on protocols, the transport carrying Emmett's snake, Betty, had arrived. Brendan watched in awe as the massive snake slithered through the specially designed access port into the enclosure. More amazing was watching Emmett in the enclosure with the giant snake, casually feeding it one of the largest rattlers Brendan had ever seen. Betty took it from him gently, slithering away to digest her meal. He understood now why Freya had declined the chance to come see the snake, knowing she had probably seen images of it in Emmett's mind.

Emmett came out of the enclosure smiling widely. "Well, she seems no worse for the journey."

"Now she's fed and settled, how about you?"

Emmett looked at him in confusion before his eyes widened in coy interest. "Are you buying?"

Brendan opened his mouth to say no, but then realized this was a chance to get to know Emmett a little better. Anyway, it had been a long time since he'd sat down to eat with someone as hot and exciting as Emmett; someone who'd been throwing casual but interested looks in his direction -- since the moment they first met, if Freya was right. He glanced at his wristwatch, realizing he was officially off duty at this moment.

"Sure. Why not."

"You mind if I go change first?"

"Sure, I'll wait for you in the bar next door."

"Twenty minutes," Emmett threw over his shoulder as he quickened his pace and rushed out of the conference center.

****

Brendan sipped at his beer while he waited, eyes gliding around the room and taking in every detail and every individual. It wasn't strictly a bar, doubling as a restaurant too, and he watched as a waitress moved from table to table, taking orders and checking on her customers. At times like this he missed Freya as she'd offer him little tidbits of the conversations going on around them, and not necessarily the words spoken out loud. Often it was necessary for their work but on other occasions, it was simple entertainment and made up for the fact that she could read him almost any time she wanted; though he had been working on his blocking with help from Dr. Welles.

Movement in the doorway caught his attention, and he found himself staring at the man standing there, recognizing him instantly, and yet Emmett looked so different. Tighter fitting dress pants and a soft blue shirt had replaced the baggy cargo pants and t-shirt. His messy hair had been tamed a little, the curls still damp at the ends, and he had shaved, taking several years off his quirkily handsome face. Emmett slipped into the booth, sitting opposite Brendan, the table light catching his eyes and making them shine a crystal blue. He gave a lopsided smile, glancing away from Brendan as the waitress came over to take his drink order.

By the end of the meal there was no doubt in Brendan's mind that Emmett was interested in more than just talking. Somewhere along the way, Brendan ceased to think of the giant snake as anything other than Betty. When Emmett mentioned having coffee facilities in his hotel room, Brendan knew that this was Emmett's way of giving him a choice on whether they took this further.

"Coffee sounds good," he stated softly, knowing he was accepting more than just coffee, plus he liked the way Emmett flushed just a little in pleasure at his answer, wondering if he could make Emmett flush a whole lot more.

The short journey to Emmett's sixth floor room was an exercise in restraint, and Emmett barely managed to close the door behind them before Brendan was pushing him up against that same door. His hands smoothed over the brushed cotton shirt, feeling the tightening nipples beneath the cloth before he began unbuttoning the shirt, desperate to run his fingers through the fine light brown chest hairs that had been tempting him through the open collar all evening. Their lips met, mouths opening to accept a deeper, more intimate kiss, tongues colliding and sliding, tasting each other as Brendan pushed the shirt off Emmett's broad shoulders. When he felt the tug on his suit jacket, Brendan stepped back, pleased with the pink flush suffusing Emmett's cheeks and the parted, slightly swollen lips that seemed to be begging for more kisses. He draped his suit jacket over the back of a chair and pulled off his tie, backing up into the room and smiling, waiting for Emmett to follow.

By the time he had eased out of his shirt, Emmett was half naked and reaching for him, fingers splayed across his chest, playing with the dark curls. Brendan gasped softly when those clever fingers stroked over a nipple, sending a frisson of pure desire straight to his cock. He kicked off his shoes and reached between them, rubbing the palm of his hand over Emmett's hard cock, enjoying the low moan as Emmett's head dropped onto Brendan's shoulder. With fingers shaking with need, he opened Emmett's pants, eager to feel the hard flesh in his hand, thumb rubbing over the slit to smear precome over the head. He drew in a breath as Emmett reciprocated, both of them pulling lazily on the other until Emmett struggled to break free, face flushed and eyes almost black with desire.

"I've only got the one decent pair of pants," Emmett explained shakily, and Brendan grinned, imagining Emmett standing up in front of his peers tomorrow with a tell-tale stain on the front of his only dress pants.

They stripped quickly, laying clothes aside almost carelessly before tumbling onto the bed, wrapped around each other, mouths joined in another deep and dirty kiss. Somehow they found the right angle, thrusting against each other until Emmett cried out, the sticky heat of his release seeping between them, triggering Brendan's climax.

For a long time they simply lay wrapped around each other, hard breaths gradually softening, and when Brendan eventually leaned up on one elbow to look down on Emmett, he grinned at the sated, happy expression. Staggering to the bathroom, Brendan returned with a warm, damp washcloth, and once they were as clean as they were going to get, he lay back down, caressing Emmett's soft skin as they both eased towards sleep.

The strident ring tone of Brendan's cellphone pulled him out of the best sleep he'd had in months, possibly years.

"This better be good, Hilliard," he stated softly even though he could feel Emmett stirring awake beside him.

"You and snake-boy better get down here. Someone tried to gain access to his giant snake...other than you, that is."

Brendan grit his teeth. "One more comment like that, Hilliard..."

"Hey, can't you take a joke?"

"Only when it's funny, and that wasn't."

"Yeah, right. Forgot you're a little... sensitive these days."

Brendan fumed silently. "I'll be right down with Dr. Emmett."

He cut the call before Hilliard turned that into an innuendo too. No matter what Freya said, Hilliard was heading for major trouble as far as Brendan was concerned. He reached over and shook Emmett, momentarily caught by the way sleepy eyes opened, and the soft smile that curled up the corners of Emmett's mouth.

"Someone tried to get to Betty."

Emmett was awake in an instant, pushing up from the bed and lunging for his clothes. Brendan pulled his own slightly wrinkled clothing on as well. Barely had he managed to finish dressing before Emmett was heading out of the door, Brendan hot on his heels. Not bothering to wait for the elevator, they took the stairs three at a time, aided by gravity. When Brendan entered the conference center, several NSA agents and security guards were milling about, along with two police officers. Hands bound with plastic ties, two dark-clothed young men shot angry glares towards Emmett.

"Hey, it's Dr. Frankenstein," one of them sneered. "That snake is an abomination, a genetically engineered abomination. You have no right to tamper with God's creations."

Emmett ignored them, moving straight to the enclosure and placing his palm against the thick glass. Behind the glass, Betty seemed to register his presence, rearing up and flowing over to him, forked tongue flickering again the other side of the glass. Checking out the room, Brendan noticed that the access panel to the food snake enclosure was slightly ajar, fortunately not wide enough for any of the snakes to escape. Brendan watched as Emmett went over and resealed the smaller enclosure before taking the opportunity to gain a full report from the security guard.

"I caught them with this." He handed over a hypodermic needle and a small bottle, and Brendan recognized the contents as a slow-acting poison. The plan seemed obvious. Poison the food, which then gets eaten by Betty, thereby poisoning her too.

"What happened?"

"They tried a diversion to draw security away. Guess they didn't realize there was two of us here with orders for one to stay with the snakes until relieved of duty." The guard straightened. "I held them at gun point until back-up arrived."

"Good job."

It took a couple of hours before Brendan could persuade Emmett to go back to his hotel room, promising that the guards would remain in case of another attempt on Betty. Finally nodding his agreement, Emmett paused and looked straight at Brendan.

"Coffee?"

Brendan smiled in relief, relaxing once more. "I thought you'd never ask."

****

A week later, Brendan rubbed his sore knuckle and stared down at Hilliard, who was holding a bloodied nose. He'd endured as much as he could stomach of Hilliard's attitude, though the final insult had been aimed at Emmett. Behind him, Emmett was wide-eyed with shock, his own hands still balled into fists, but Brendan had no intention of seeing his lover taken in for assaulting an NSA agent. Freya had caught hold of Emmett's arm, pulling him back but all Brendan could hear was Harper bellowing from his office door, ordering Brendan and Hilliard into his office.

Brendan stood stock still while Hilliard ranted, his words muffled by his injury, expecting the worst.

"I want that maniac put up on charges of assault!"

"Fine. And I'll be filing sexual harassment charges against you to counterbalance that report."

Brendan stared at Harper in surprise, having not expected to receive any support. Hilliard stormed out of Harper's office leaving Brendan facing Harper alone.

"He won't file charges...but I can't simply look away. One week's suspension without pay."

"He deserved..."

"Yes, but I cannot condone violence towards another agent." Harper sighed. "Look, Dean, I'm doing you a favor here. I'm sure there must be some place you'd like to spend a week away from work...that isn't here?" He glanced pointedly in Emmett's direction. Finally getting it, Brendan nodded.

"Yes, sir."

Emmett was still angry when Brendan reached his side, and more so when Brendan told him he'd been suspended.

"Emmett... I've heard Elkins is a great place to reflect on my actions," he stated meaningfully, waiting for the moment when Emmett figured it out too. He was not disappointed; seeing the blue eyes dancing with happiness, and the soft lips curling upwards in a beautiful smile.

Punching Hilliard had been worth it after all.

END

-

PG13 slash - Chinese Whispers - Peter/Nickie - Kung Fu: TLC

2009-07-28T20:52:27Z

Title: Chinese Whispers
Author: Tarlan (tarlanx)
Fandom: Kung Fu: The Legend Continues
Pairing/Characters: Peter/Nickie
Rating/Category: PG13/Slash
Prompt: Chinese whispers
Spoilers: Follows from Chill Ride (Nickie's last appearance)
Notes/Warnings: Beware the sugar-overload!
Summary: Thinking of Nickie with a beach full of hot babes makes Peter realize he is jealous of THEM rather than of Nickie.

Written for smallfandomfest FEST05

Peter sauntered quietly into Nickie's office and leaned up against the filing cabinet, taking a moment to study the bowed head. His eyes were drawn to hands that had lost some of their usual paleness after Nickie's vacation in the sun, and he watched indulgently as Nickie studied one of the many coroner's reports scattered across his desk.

Breaking the silence, he asked, "So how was.. Hawaii," drawing out the name to give it greater emphasis, and enjoying the way Nickie's head snapped up in surprise. Peter grinned; he loved sneaking up on Nickie just so he could catch that wide-eyed shock in his bright blue eyes. His smile faltered almost immediately.

"No beard?"

With his usual social innocence, Nickie blurted out, "The first babe I approached slapped me around the face and called me a dirty old man." He mumbled something about how the beard was supposed to have made him look sophisticated and distinguished. "I shaved it off after the fourth time."

"You look better without the beard."

Nickie sighed in exasperation. "And you couldn't tell me this during the six weeks I spent growing it?"

Peter felt a twinge of guilt because, yeah, he could have said something. It had taken this break from Nickie's company to make him realize why he'd made no attempt to help Nickie choose the right clothes to attract the women; why he had told him he looked great in the mismatched Hawaiian shirts and Bermuda shorts, and with that ridiculous beard that had aged him well beyond his years. Whether deliberate or not, Peter had picked out colors and patterns that clashed, in shades and vibrant tones that did nothing for Nickie's coloring, serving only to make him less desirable to the opposite sex... or any sex. It had taken a few days before Peter could face the hard truth that he'd hated the thought of Nickie in Hawaii all alone with a beach full of scantily dressed, hot babes.

He felt guilty because Nickie had trusted in his opinion, and Peter had led him astray because, subconsciously, he couldn't handle the thought of anyone else with Nickie.

Looking down into Nickie's now bare and vulnerable face, into liquid blue eyes that shone with so much innocence despite a career spent seeing the worst that could happen to a human body, Peter felt even more guilty at the betrayal. For years he had ignored the Chinese whispers passed from person to person around the bullpen; whispers that should have distorted the truth but, in his case, had narrowed to razor-sharp precision on how he felt about Nickie. He'd tried to hide from the truth by dating one beautiful woman after another, almost prepared to marry just to prove the whispers were wrong, if only to himself. He'd treated Nickie as if he was just another one of the guys, trying not to notice how the world seemed brighter when Nickie smiled, and how it seemed darker when he was hurt or sad.

He'd practically torn his dad's head off last week when he asked if Peter was going to meet Nickie's plane, gaining only a raised eyebrow and a knowing shake of the head that had only made Peter feel even more guilty. It was obvious now that his father had known how he felt about Nickie all along, and it should have been obvious to Peter after he spent several nights lying in his bed wondering who was touching Nickie at that very moment, and feeling intensely jealous of them rather than of Nickie.

"So.." he cleared his throat and forced out the words as he stared into the handsome, boyish face. "Meet any hot babes?"

Nickie grimaced. "Loads but..." He grimaced again. "There was an accident at the hotel, and they weren't so pleased afterwards when I mentioned I usually worked with dead bodies."

Peter sank down onto the edge of the desk having pushed aside some of the precariously hanging reports. "You trained as a doctor on the living before you moved to forensics."

"I know! I just prefer... dead patients. In truth, it wasn't as hot as I expected it to be. I mean the babes...not the weather." He gave a small chuckle. "The weather was too hot." He indicated towards his sunburned skin, smile falling. "I felt pretty lonely there." He clicked his fingers, eyes glittering with excitement. "Come with me next time! We could hang out, watch the surfing and... and build sand castles and splash in the ocean."

"I'm not so interested in the hot babes, Nickie."

Nickie looked down, one side of his mouth turning down as if in shame and Peter thought he murmured, "Neither am I," but the words were too indistinct to make out clearly. Nickie looked back up with an uncomfortable smile and indicated towards all the reports. "Well, got lots of work to catch up on so..."

"So I'll see you later then."

Peter turned back once he reached the threshold and pointed at Nickie. "I almost forgot. My father's invited us both over for dinner tonight."

The boyish smile returned. "Really? Oh, okay."

Peter shook his head as he left, glad that his father liked Nickie, and that Nickie seemed to like his father in return.

****

With the meal finished and the dishes cleared, Caine poured tea as he glanced at the two younger men seated cross legged at his low table. "There are words whispered...in the station."

Peter gave a tight smile, knowing exactly to which words he referred. "Just Chinese whispers...no insult intended."

"None taken."

"Whispers about what?" Nickie asked.

"About Peter...and about you." Caine looked into confused but guileless eyes, knowing the innocence was not feigned. "Love... comes in many forms. Between two men is no less precious than that between a man... and a woman."

From the heat in both their faces, and the way they glanced towards each other, gauging the other's reaction, Caine knew they had understood his words. He pushed lightly to his feet and bowed.

"I must go. An errand to run for the Ancient." He reached out when Nickie started to struggle to his feet. "No. Stay... and talk, for there is much to say."

Caine stepped from the room, closing the soft fold of curtain behind him. Beyond, the Ancient was waiting patiently, his eyes glowing with excitement.

"You have told them?" Lo Si asked.

Caine bowed. "Yes. Now it is for them to...make the next move."

****

Peter knew his face was probably as flushed with embarrassment as Nickie's but, so far, Nickie hadn't denied his father's words. Instead, he looked harder at Peter, as if waiting for the denial to fall from his lips.

"Nickie?"

Misery and honesty shone in Nickie's eyes. "I hated it in Hawaii. I kept wishing you were there."

"Yeah, me too."

Gathering up his courage, Peter leaned across the corner of the small table and brushed his lips over Nickie's. He thought of all the new whispers that would travel through both of their offices, aware that not everyone would be pleased by the news. Yet, as he deepened their first real kiss, hand reaching up to cup Nickie's smooth-shaven cheek, he realized he didn't care. The people who truly mattered would support his and Nickie's choice, and the rest would either accept eventually, or move on. He pulled back, finding a new expression of stunned delight on Nickie's face.

Peter was still grinning when he leaned in for another kiss, knowing these were just the first of a lifetime of kisses they would share.

END

-

PG13 slash - Perfect - John/Rodney (SGA)

2009-07-27T22:37:28Z

Title: Perfect
Author: Tarlan (tarlanx)
Rating: PG13 slash McKay/Sheppard
Disclaimer: Not Mine!
Word Count: ~700
Summary: Having Rodney in his arms was perfect.
Author's Note: Tag for First Contact/The Lost Tribe
For mcsheplets Prompt 050 Return and fanfic100 Prompt 098. Writer's Choice

As he watched Jackson step towards the Stargate, supported by a couple of medics rotating back to Earth, John wondered when he would be receiving a summons to return to Earth too. O'Neill had a soft spot for Jackson, having spent years teamed with the anthropologist, and John knew how he would feel if O'Neill had returned a certain astrophysicist in a similar state to Jackson. He'd be baying for O'Neill's blood despite the General out-ranking him.

Beside him, Rodney gave a small wiggle of his fingers in a childish kind of wave as Jackson glanced over his shoulder, turning away with a contented hum as soon as Jackson crossed the horizon. John watched Rodney saunter away, his eyes narrowing at the almost happy hop and skip in his step. Pursing his lips in annoyance, he lengthened his stride to catch up because Doctor Meredith Rodney McKay had no reason to be this perky after all the worry he'd put his team through over the past few days. He still had visions of the heavy armored Asgard renegade dragging Rodney's unconscious body out of that laboratory by one arm, refusing to believe Rodney was anything other than stunned if only because it didn't make any sense to take a dead body.

"McKay!"

"Hmm?" Rodney stopped and turned, blue eyes all wide and innocent, and that really was the last straw as far as John was concerned. He reached out and grabbed Rodney by the arm, ignoring his cries of indignation as he dragged him along the corridor and shoved him into the nearest empty laboratory, locking the door behind them.

Rodney rubbed his arm, glaring across at John. "What is it with you military types and the heavy handling? That's going to bruise."

John sauntered towards him, enjoying the way Rodney's narrowed eyes began to widen once more, this time with a trace of fear, his lips parting into a soft 'o'. He backed up a couple of steps before obviously deciding he wasn't going to be intimidated by John, squaring his broad shoulders and lifting his chin in defiance.

The kiss took both of them by surprise because John had meant only to push into Rodney's personal space, to push up against his chest in some macho posturing. He hadn't intended to lean in further and kiss the defiant lips. John pulled back, licking his lower lip to capture the taste of Rodney, to confirm that it truly had happened and that he had kissed his best friend.

He'd kissed his best friend. John stumbled back a pace. He'd kissed his MALE best friend.

Two hands hooking into the front of his t-shirt prevented him from taking yet another step back.

"Oh no you don't, Sheppard," Rodney whispered harshly before dragging John into another kiss, hard and determined, identical to the one Rodney had bestowed upon Carson all those months ago but, this time, it was Rodney in control and not Cadman. This time it was Rodney making the demands, and John buckled willingly, letting the kiss deepen, reeling back a step when they finally surfaced for air.

The flippant yet innocent look was gone now, replaced by bright eyes darkened in lust and hair all mussed up from where John had unconsciously grabbed at Rodney's head to hold onto the kiss for longer.

John licked his lips again, stunned by the depth of passion in the kiss. "That was..."

Rodney narrowed his eyes. "If you say interesting, I'll make sure you don't have heat for a month."

John blinked away the mental stupor; he grinned and leaned in again, catching the corner of Rodney's mouth in a soft kiss. "I was going to say...perfect," he murmured. As he deepened the kiss, the remnants of his fear melted away. For a while he thought he had lost Rodney but here he was now, safe in John's arms, returned to him warm and vibrant and alive...until the next time someone tried to snatch him away.

As his hands stroked down the broad back to the firm curve of Rodney's ass, he wondered if they could modify a Wraith tracking device so he'd never lose Rodney again.

END

-

NC17 slash - Zealot - Riddick/Vaako, TCoR

2009-07-26T22:25:17Z

Title: Zealot
Author: Tarlan (tarlanx)
Fandom: The Chronicles of Riddick
Pairing/Characters: Riddick/Vaako
Rating/Category: NC17/Slash
Prompt: Shine
Spoilers: none
Notes/Warnings: With many thanks to taibhrigh) for the wonderful beta!
Summary: Vaako begins to question his loyalty to Lord Marshal Zhylaw after that first meeting with Riddick on Helion Prime.

Written for smallfandomfest FEST05

In the dim light of the Basilica, the breeder raised his goggles, glancing back over his shoulder directly at me. His eyes shined, glittering with an inner light that made him all the more fascinating to me. He fascinated her too, her body radiating her sexual desire for such a powerful animal. She led him into the chamber of the quasi-dead, the sway of her hips and the seductive arch of her long, swan-like neck distracting him from the trap set before him. Her words were honeyed and her fingers ghosted over his muscled arm before she joined me outside the chamber, the doors sealing behind her.

Fascinating or not, when Zhylaw gave the order to kill the breeder - the Riddick - I obeyed without question, eager to test myself against a man who had taken down my best lieutenant, Irgun, so easily. Yet, at the back of my mind, I wondered why Zhylaw seemed so unsettled over the revelation that this Riddick was Furyan. What did it matter that this breeder was one of the few survivors of a world that had already fallen beneath the might of the Necromonger army? It had not been the first world to fall, and neither would it be the last - from here 'til Underverse come.

Her interference warranted me the wrong kind of attention from my Lord Marshal, and I snarled at the glee shining in Commanders Toal and Scales' eyes as I was sent away to hunt down and destroy Riddick. While I was gone from his side they would consolidate their position of power, vying to become Zhylaw's First Among Commanders, and seeking to become his chosen one; his successor as Lord Marshal should he meet a timely end. That he should send The Purifier with me, no doubt to test my loyalty, only angered me further.

Watching Riddick take out twenty of my men as if they were mere flies to be swatted aside made up for the long days onboard the scout ship, following the trail of the only ship that managed to escape from Helion Prime. His body moved with a dancer's fluid grace, muscles rippling while eye and hand coordinated beautifully. Yes, beautiful. He was beauty in motion and I felt such regret as the blast stunned him, toppling him onto the hard-baked earth. I approached him with two blasters aimed at his chest, torn between the need to obey without question and an urge to taste this man's power and his skin; to feel him move beneath me in a different dance.

A force radiated out from him, throwing my circling men back against the rocky canyon walls. Stunned, I could only scrabble against the rocks, forced to retreat to my ship before the heat of sunrise burned me to dust. At the time, I could only assume that Riddick perished where he lay, along with The Purifier who had failed to reach the safety of the ship. All I had to show for the 'success' of the mission was the lone female who had fought alongside Riddick; a female who grieved more openly than I for the loss of the one called Riddick.

***

"He's here!" Dame Vaako hissed her warning, and I had no need to question the identity of the one of which she spoke.

"You mean on Helion?"

"I mean here. On this very ship."

I should have felt fear, for once Zhylaw learned of Riddick's presence then he would also know I had deliberately lied by stating Riddick was dead when I had only assumption rather than proof to offer. Of course, Dame Vaako wanted me to hunt down Riddick and destroy him before he came to Zhylaw's attention; before I could fall from Zhylaw's grace and her with me. Instead, I recalled that moment when I had tried to sneak up behind Zhylaw in the war room but had failed to approach unnoticed. Riddick was the only man I had ever seen who could be a serious threat to Zhylaw, and he was the only man for whom I could ever consider offering my loyalty 'til Underverse come now that I had started questioning my loyalty to Zhylaw.

Impatient as ever, Dame Vaako proved that for all her machinations, she was no strategist. Even though Riddick was losing the fight against the holy, half-dead Zhylaw, every blow weakened the Lord Marshal, even as it made him more arrogant, more careless in his attention to those around him. I saw the new convert walking up behind Zhylaw; the female I had brought back from Crematoria. I saw the light shining off the spear held in her small hand, and I watched as she plunged it into Zhylaw's back without hesitation.

Now it was time.

Zhylaw was on his knees. He had never once offered mercy and yet he expected it now for himself, expected me to finish off Riddick in a show of loyalty that seemed undeserved. As I raised the battle ax, ready to strike the killing blow, I hesitated for a moment because although Zhylaw was not fit to be Lord Marshal of the Necromongers, neither was I. I knew my own weaknesses too well, knowing I was not ready to keep what I killed today, and yet the blow had to come for the sake of all who would cross the threshold and be reborn into Underverse. The fear shining in Zhylaw's eyes proved that he had become unworthy and should meet his timely death. As the battle ax hit the solid marble flooring of the Basilica, I felt the shudder race up through my arms, aware even before then that I had delayed a fraction too long and, for one moment, I thought the cry of anguish from Dame Vaako had been for me. I thought perhaps I had been wrong in believing she saw me purely as a means of becoming consort to the most powerful of the Necromongers. I thought she might actually care that by missing, I had forfeited my life at Zhylaw's hands, but when I raised my eyes I saw Riddick snap off the hilt of the knife buried deep into Zhylaw's skull.

Zhylaw was dead, and not by my hand.

Riddick slumped back onto the throne in grief as the female convert died; I stepped towards him. I could see the loss glittering in shined eyes, but there was no weakness in that grief, only the strength of mind and body of a survivor. He looked straight into my eyes and I could see the question there, the same one he had given to the woman he had called Kyra: Are you with me?

Was I with him, or was I against him? Could I accept this man as my Lord Marshal?

I thought of Dame Vaako, standing on the mezzanine floor and looking down on the events below her. I thought of her anguished cry that was for her loss rather than mine, and decided I'd had my fill of her deceitful whispers and conspiracies as she plotted against anyone standing in her path to greater power.

If I bowed down before Riddick then her plotting would turn towards disposing of her husband so she could reach for her desire to become consort to the Lord Marshal - any Lord Marshal. Bowing would mean my untimely death, possibly at Riddick's hands if his interest in her beauty outweighed his consideration for keeping me as his First Among Commanders, or even as a foot soldier.

Are you with me?

As I bowed my head, I answered for all of those present, falling to one knee before him; aware from the rustle of cloth and clank of metal that others were following my lead.

***

The new Purifier led Riddick to Zhylaw's old chambers and I followed on behind with Toal and Scales a pace further back, stopping on the threshold as Riddick moved into the dim interior. His eyes took in everything; every angle, every piece of furnishing that might be used as a weapon, every escape route. I suspected that he already knew more about this chamber after that one glance than Zhylaw had learned in his many years as Lord Marshal.

"Go," he ordered, and we all turned away. "Not you... Vaako."

Dame Vaako eased between me and the door, stepping into his chamber with a seductive smile. "My Lord..."

"Maybe I should have been more specific. I want that Vaako." Riddick pointed straight at me, just as he had pointed at Irgun in the council chamber on Helion Prime; I acknowledged him with a deferential tilt of my head.

A flicker of a glance revealed the anger in Dame Vaako's eyes as she was dismissed along with all the others, her garments swishing across the marble floor as she stormed from the chamber.

"Feisty," he stated, and I knew he was referring to my wife.

"If you want her..."

"Not my type."

I smiled, already anticipating how she would take the news that her advances would be unwelcome. I resisted the temptation to ask what his type might be, deciding instead that it would be far more entertaining to watch the courtesans fawning over him; their eyes shining in avarice as they wondered if they would be the one to warm the bed of the new Lord Marshal, perhaps even become his consort.

I stepped across the threshold and the door slid closed behind me, lock snicking into place quietly. Riddick dimmed the lights further until only the glow of a hearth fire remained; the flickering flames making even the deepest of shadows dance. When he turned, I could see the ethereal glow of his eyes, reflecting fire light in silver and gold.

"Take off your armor." It wasn't the order I had expected but I obeyed, casting a glance his way as he stripped off his breastplate too. "Now the rest."

Hesitating, I stared hard into his eyes and questioned his motives. "Then, am I your type?" I asked, unable to subdue the sarcasm and intrigue that colored my voice, adding depth to its tone. Zhylaw would have killed me instantly for my lack of obedience without question but Riddick merely gave a half-smile, eyes shining with lust.

"If you want to be."

His deep, gravelly voice vibrated through me, and I wondered if he truly believed I had a choice should he make it a demand of my loyalty and obedience. Fortunately, the only other male who could have made such a demand was Zhylaw, and he had preferred the curves of females. Any other males who had tried to force themselves upon me in the past had felt the razor edge of my blade, for none had been worthy of my submission.

Slowly, I stripped off the remainder of my clothing, unashamed of my body as he walked around me, his blunt fingers brushing over exposed skin, trailing over the curve of my ass possessively. He was equally naked by the time he faced me again, and I gazed deep into silvered eyes, unflinching as he leaned in, one hand wrapping around the longer braids of my hair as he took my mouth in a firm yet stirring kiss. His hard, muscled body pressed up against mine, hotter than a Necromonger's cooler flesh... a side effect of purification. Strong fingers dug into one asscheek, dragging our groins together until the slickness of his erection smeared across my lower belly. My hands found purchase against his broad back as he devoured me with his kiss, bodies thrusting against one another until the flood of liquid heat triggered my own release.

Spent, we collapsed upon the bed in a tangle of boneless limbs, where the advantage of my greater height held no meaning, and I found myself drawn into the circle of his arms, my head upon his shoulder.

"Not bad for someone who looks mostly dead."

I knew he was referring to the paleness of my skin and the dark circles worn as a symbol of my purification. Once he had undergone the procedure and had returned from the threshold as a holy, half-dead, then perhaps his shined eyes would see my acceptance of pain as a sign of my loyalty to him and to the Necromonger cause. Perhaps he would keep me in his bed, or at his side as his First Among Commanders; my very presence in his bed nullifying my marriage to Dame Vaako.

Perhaps I was not his type after all, and he would have me killed - or kill me himself.

Death was nothing to be feared. Yet, as I listened to and felt the steady thump of his heartbeat slowing into sleep beneath my cheek, for the first time in many years, I felt no pain at all.

I felt alive.

END

-

PG-13 gen - Last Man Standing - ALIENS

2009-07-23T17:43:27Z

Title: Last Man Standing
Author: Tarlan (tarlanx)
Fandom: Aliens
Pairing/Characters: Cpl. Dwayne Hicks, Hudson
Rating/Category: PG/Gen
Prompt: Facing Death
Spoilers: None
Notes/Warnings: ALIEN 3 never happened or if it did then they made a mistake...Hicks and Newt survived the crash.
Summary: It wasn't death that should be feared but the manner in which it came to pass.

Written for smallfandomfest FEST05

Hicks had known Hudson for years; he had fought by his side in one offworld battle after another as part of the USCM - the United Space Colonial Marines. They'd faced down terrorists on Alba 4 and had been part of the peacekeeping force on New Lincoln during the heaviest part of the bitter civil war that had raged between the agriculturists and the miners. They had both stared down the barrels of enemy guns, relying on each other and the rest of their unit to pull their asses out of the danger zone.

They'd buried good soldiers together, and it was only Hudson's inability to cutout the wisecracks that had seen Hicks promoted to corporal while Hudson spent his service years as a private.

Like most of the other marines in the unit, Hudson had the necessary mix of gung-ho and insanity; full of bullshit, believing he was invincible, and maybe that had stood him in good stead in the past. Maybe they had all needed that edge of insanity to survive some of the shit they had faced, wearing it like the mental equivalent of their heavy-duty body armor.

This mission should have been no different from all the others even though it had started off badly enough with no briefing before they went into cryosleep, and then awakening to discover they'd gained a green lieutenant for a commanding officer rather than a leader they could trust. It wasn't even their first bug hunt, though none of them had ever managed to see a real alien life form other than the parasitic company men from Wayland-Yutani. Hicks knew for a fact that none of them believed aliens even existed, putting it down to the overactive imagination of some dumbass colonist, and yet Hicks had noticed the haunted look in Ripley's eyes when she spoke of the alien she had encountered.

Still, he'd not wanted to believe her, and her description of the alien had sounded so fantastical that it had made it easier for all of them to dismiss her words; acid for blood, and impregnating its human host with its larvae. Yet the insect world was full of creatures that fed off another, like the wasp that lay its egg in a holly leaf miner, the hatching larva feeding off the miner from the inside. Biology had never been Hicks' strongest subject at school but he'd remembered that gruesome fact, fascinated by the concept like most boys his age.

Had Hudson recalled those same biology lessons?

Until this mission, he had trusted Hudson to watch his back. The man could gripe, clown around and whine with the best of them but Hudson had always been there for him. Now Hicks didn't know what to think, seeing Hudson reduced to near-hysteria after their first encounter with real, bug-like and incredibly nasty aliens. Gone was the soldier who had stared death in the face with an insane grin, replaced instead by this terrified man who had finally come to realize that it wasn't death that should be feared but the manner in which it came to pass.

For his own part, Hicks had made a promise to Ripley that he wouldn't let the aliens take her for a host. Hell, he'd promised to do both of them before allowing that to happen. That was the only difference between this and every other conceivable death; the fear of being cocooned, of begging for death before the alien growing inside burst out from its prison of flesh and rib cage, just as the cocooned female colonist had begged before the alien had chewed a hole right through her chest.

Looking back now, Hicks hadn't been able to save Hudson from being taken, hadn't been able to prevent him from joining Apone and Dietrich in the sub-basement beneath the cooling towers, but a forty megaton explosion had made certain none of them had lived long enough to suffer through the final agony of an alien's birth. What he did recall instead was the way Hudson had faced his death on his feet, firing round after round into the attacking aliens while the cowardly Burke had turned and fled, deserting them, trapping them.

On a distant world, Hudson had faced his worst nightmare and, although his initial reaction had been unworthy of a man bearing the insignia of the USCM, he had died valiantly on his feet, protecting his team and the surviving civilians entrusted into their care.

looking in the mirror, Hicks winced a little at the sore patches of healing skin, grateful for the modern advances in medicine that ensured he wouldn't have to live with an acid burned face and body. He straightened his dress uniform and cap, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before letting it out slowly. Opening his eyes, he faced his reflection once more and nodded tightly, mentally prepared for this final goodbye to his old unit.

The military cemetery was peaceful and he half-listened to the basic service, only focusing his attention when Colonel Gabeson began reciting the names of the fallen. With each name came a memory of good times, of heroic acts of bravery; Gorman telling him to go on while he went back for Vasquez, finally showing his true heroic colors. With Hudson's name came that final moment of seeing him overcoming his fear and standing his ground, and of trying to hold on as Hudson was pulled beneath the flooring by one of the creatures.

As the final echo of the rifle salute drifted away on the breeze, Hicks allowed his eyes to glance over the commemorative stone, and the names carved into its face. All of them gone with not even a body to bring back to a loved one. Apone's wife was crying softly, his kids hanging onto their momma; Spunkmeyer's parents looked shell shocked, and Ferro's younger brother stood tall in his USCM uniform, having followed in big sister's footsteps. As he scanned the sea of faces, knowing some only from the photographs taped up inside lockers or from locker room chatter, he caught a pale of blue eyes watching him and recognized Hudson's sister from the family photos.

As the service came to an end, she came up to him and he flinched beneath her grief and anger-filled eyes, waiting for her to ask why he had survived when everyone else had perished. Instead, her eyes traveled across his sore but healing face. She reached out to touch his cheek.

"My brother?"

"Was a marine...to the end."

She nodded, accepting his words with a bitter twist to a smile. "He liked serving with you and the rest of the unit. Four weeks and he would have been out of there...but I know he didn't want to leave. He loved you guys...all of you. He was going to sign up for another tour." She walked away before he could respond but her words sank deeper than any of the ones spouted by the psychiatrist he'd been forced to see.

Hudson had chosen this life. They had all chosen this life; traveling between the stars to quell unrest and to protect civilians wherever they were needed. Perhaps he had felt guilty for being the last man standing when all the rest of his unit had died but, for the first time since Acheron, he stopped wishing he had died with them. While he lived, he would keep their spirit alive.

END

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PG slash - Wet - John/Rodney (SGA)

2009-07-13T21:53:55Z

Title: Wet
Author: Tarlan (tarlanx)
Rating: PG slash McKay/Sheppard
Disclaimer: Not Mine!
Word Count: ~825
Summary: Pouring water over his head means he likes him.
Author's Note: Tag to The Return Part 2
For mcsheplets Prompt 049 Wet and fanfic100 Prompt 049 Club

"I... couldn't convince you to take a swim today, could I?"

The silence on the other end of the radio was only a couple of beats in reality but Rodney was already cringing inside as he imagined O'Neill's response. However, if O'Neill refused to activate the manual override then their plan to take back Atlantis from the Replicators was doomed to failure.

He breathed a sigh of relief when O'Neill agreed, and the plan went ahead with Rodney forced to improvise when Niam refused to cooperate and woke up. Eventually, though, the Replicators were destroyed and once Caldwell had accepted that the humans were now in control of the city, he beamed down to offer begrudging congratulations; following O'Neill's lead, no doubt.

It was hours later, after O'Neill had handed back control of Atlantis to Elizabeth, that Rodney discovered why Daniel Jackson had winced when they reported back to Landry at the SGC via the Stargate.

Rodney gasped, stunned into silence as freezing cold water drenched him from head to toe. Spluttering and shaking, he could only stare back in horror at the self-satisfied grin and the evil glint in O'Neill's eyes.

"What..? Why..? You..?"

"That's for getting me wet, McKay, and setting me up to have a hand in my head." O'Neill turned and started to walk away. "Damn, that felt good," he stated, and all Rodney could do was sit in a puddle of cold water and watch him go.

He turned to face the others, still shocked and confused by O'Neill's actions to find all of them biting back laughter. Elizabeth stepped forward and made an abortive hand-to-shoulder gesture. She poked him with a finger instead.

"It means you're forgiven...and he likes you."

"Pouring freezing cold water over my head means he likes me?"

"If he hated you, you'd be on the Daedalus for the slow trip back to Earth."

She smiled again and followed after O'Neill, leaving Rodney even more stunned. he had to admit that the last time he had pissed off O'Neill, he had ended up in Siberia. Admittedly, General Hammond had given the order but Rodney had it on good authority that it was O'Neill who had made the suggestion after he had proved his willingness to abandon Teal'c to his death in the Stargate buffer. It hadn't been Rodney's greatest moment.

Gathering up his dignity, Rodney stood up and squelched his way towards the nearest transporter, heading for his room. He glared back when he noticed John following him.

"What?"

John simply shrugged and fell in step, barely holding back a grin, and Rodney seriously believed John was going to follow him all the way to Rodney's quarters but, at the last moment, he veered off in another direction, leaving Rodney alone. Shoulders slumping, Rodney carried on into his quarters, dropping sodden clothing as he walked across the room towards the bathroom and its wondrous tub. Within ten minutes he was half-submerged in water set to the perfect temperature, and grateful that someone on the Daedalus had been willing to part with some bath gel. As he leaned back against the side, head tipped back, he started to doze as the trauma of the last few hours caught up with him.

A cold droplet struck his forehead and he swiped at it. Another struck him, tickling as the droplet trickled down over his cheekbone. Rodney opened his eyes and jumped in fright, slipping off the bench and going under. He came up spluttering, glaring hard at the man leaning casually against the bathroom door, part of him wondering how long John had been standing there.

Attack was always the best defense in Rodney's book. "Were you trying to drown me!?"

John grinned even harder, slowly undressing - much to Rodney's astonishment - until he was fully naked. He scratched against his dark, hairy chest almost absentmindedly before crossing the bathroom and climbing into the tub - Rodney's tub - sinking down into the hot water with a contented sigh. Rodney pursed his lips, waiting until John was fully relaxed before grabbing the hairy legs and tugging hard. John went straight under with an undignified squawk, spluttering back to the surface and flicking the longer strands of his hair off of his face.

"What was that for?"

"Oh, I have it on good authority from Elizabeth that it means I like you," he half-sneered, half-smirked back.

His own squawk was probably just as undignified. He thrashed his way back to the surface, glaring hard at John as he wiped the droplets of water from his face.

"Welcome to the club," John stated, voice low and seductive, before closing the distance between them and kissing Rodney soundly.

As he pulled back, Rodney could only stare at him in awe. "I...I couldn't convince you to kiss me again, could I?"

"Oh, that could be arranged," John murmured... and he did.

END

-

ART: Adventure Inc, Judson & or / Stefan, ancient temples

2009-07-03T21:50:11Z

Title: Ziggurat
Artist: Tarlan
Fandom: Adventure Inc
Pairing/Characters: Judson Cross and Stefan George
Rating/Category: Gen
Prompt: ancient temples
Notes/Warnings: None