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kitchyTitle: The Seven Stages of Rodney's Coming Out Process
Author: Kitchyy
Rating: PG-NC-17
This Chapter: PG
Pairings: Eventual Sheppard/McKay
Warnings/Spoilers: Upto the End of Season 3, just to be safe
Summary for this chapter: Rodney hates the rain.
Disclaimer: So not mine. Never will be.
Previous Chapter
Stage Two: Confusion
Rodney hates the rain. He hates it even more when he doesn't know if it will ever end.
"It's just rain, McKay." Ronon mutters. It may just be rain, but it's cold and miserable and a lot of the stuff in his pack is electronic devices they need. If he hadn't put all of them in ziplock bags he'd be screwed right about now. Rodney wants to punch him for being so clueless sometimes. He doesn't though, if he were honest with himself, he never would either. Firstly, because he's a good friend that's saved his life time and time again. Secondly, he knows it will end up with him face down in the mud, too many bruises to count, his dignity in shreds and Ronon standing over him smiling like a maniac and he will not give that man the pleasure.
John and Teyla are talking with the top-planet-important-person of the hour, and for M93-7T8 it's a woman who looks a lot like Teyla. Rodney has a sudden urge to do a gender study on all the planets in the milky way with patriarchal heads versus the Pegasus with all the very many matriarchal heads. Maybe there's some correlation between star count and gravity and other randomized yet extremely important anomalies that defines this galaxy leaders as different from the one he grew up in.
Their conversation finally ends. The woman looks less than impressed, and Rodney can't tell if it's the rain or the conversation that's made her so annoyed.
"Ok, we can stay the night in the tavern. Or whatever they call it here." John's hair has flattened to his scalp and water drips from the point of his nose. "Ronon, Radio Atlantis, tell them we're gonna be a little late."
Ronon nods and walks off, his hand to his ear. "How long is a little late?" Rodney asks.
Teyla looks as miserable as he feels. "The rain can last for many days on this planet." She replies wearily.
His adrenaline spikes. "How long is many?" Rodney demands. He doesn't want to stay on a sodden rainy planet for more than is absolutely necessary.
"Many." John replies. He looks grim and Rodney sighs heavily. They really need to start checking long-term planetary weather forecasts before gating through. It would save a plethora of problems exactly like this one. He squelches miserably behind Sheppard and in front of Teyla into the local tavern. They broker two rooms, Teyla and Ronon claim one, which leaves him and John in the other.
"Remind me again why we came to this God forsaken rock?" Rodney asks as he strips out of his soaking wet clothes and pulls something not completely soaked through from his pack.
"Food, Rodney. Atlantis needs food." John is wearing his only spare clothing, an old pair of BDU's and a loose-fitting olive-green button down military shirt that's seen better days. The rest is placed strategically on random pieces of furniture near the fireplace to allow to dry. Even the fire looks miserable. it's tiny and hissing as rain comes in through the chimney.
Ah, yes. The crutch of the issue. "I don't see the problem with MRE's." He sniffs. He honestly doesn't understand why so many people have a problem with them. It reminds him of Campbell's soup and cafeteria food in first year university.
John tidies up his pack and leans it against the foot of the only bed. "Well, call me silly, but I don't feel like living on MRE's for the rest of my life."
"You're missing out." Rodney replies from the other side of the bed and his smile fades. One bed. One double sized bed to fit him and John, and after all the things he knows about him, he isn't sure if John wants to share the bed with him.
John stands on the other side looking just as lost. At least now that they're inside he doesn't look so much like the drowned rat he did half an hour ago. "So... Head to foot?" John asks. There's that unreadable look again. He has no idea what John is trying to say with his face and it's starting to annoy him almost as much as the rain.
He reminds himself of what people are supposed to do in times like this and nods his head. "Yeah, head to foot." Then he climbs into bed with only marginally damp clothing, grabs the pillow from the head of the bed, plops it at the foot and does his best to get comfortable. He wonders why all these planets need to stuff their mattresses with hey. Isn't there some type of alien cotton plant somewhere they can use to make sleeping slightly more comfortable? "Just... do me a favor and don't stick your feet in my face while I'm sleeping."
John smirks as he climbs into bed, his head resting comfortably at the proper end. "That, I think, I can handle." There's a pause as John climbs into bed. "At least I think so." John wiggles the nearest socked foot towards Rodney and he smacks it like some maiden aunt protecting her virtue.
"Just go to sleep." Rodney snaps and closes his eyes. All he can think about is the proximity of people, the heat of John's body and that their groins are perfectly aligned. Oh, he knows he shouldn't think these things. He still does though. It's not the kind of thing that turns him on, it really isn't, but he's aware of it, all the same. Painfully aware, and as John's breathing slowly change from controlled to even as he falls asleep, Rodney is still awake, counting breaths, counting seconds, minutes, hours, and another persons heartbeat and prays for sleep to come to him at least once to get these thoughts out of his head.
***
SGA-1 (that's what he calls his team in his head) is sitting in the tavern with the three heads of the community the next morning. Two of them are women and Rodney recognizes one of them from the conversation last night, looking much more put together than when he had first met her.
Actually, now that she's dry and her hair isn't matted together in wet pathetic, dripping clumps, she looks quite pretty. Attractive, even. Rodney tries to smile at her, but she completely ignores him, focusing instead on Lieutenant Colonel John Shepard and even gives him a sweet little smile.
Rodney's annoyed. And still wet in places he wouldn't like to share. He worries how fast it takes to develop Trenchfoot. John is smiling back at her, using that old Sheppard charm and it just... Grates on his nerves. If it wasn't for Atlantis going into full ration mode he would have said something by now.
"So, fourteen bushels of this... Kurah wheat in exchange for medical supplies and inoculations." Sheppard surmises. "I think we can do that."
"Our people will be grateful." The woman - Kina, Shina? - Rodney's never been good with names, says.
"Thank you Meenah, this will not go unforgotten." Teyla says, and they clasp hands like warriors. Rodney runs her name over and over in his head trying to remember it. He has a feeling he won't.
John smiles kindly at the three of them. "So, when do you think the harvest will be ready?" John asks.
Meenah blushes prettily but it's the old guy that replies with a voice that sounds like rusty pipes. "Give us two full changes of the large moon, and we will have your bushels."
Rodney does some quick math. This world has 3 moons. One tiny and two decent. One is slightly larger, a centimeter larger than earth's moon. he extrapolates what information he can from homing in on this planet when they came in on the Jumper. It will be another two and a half months. The rations by that time will be tight. Their food will not come amiss.
John looks at him and Rodney gets a small thrill that he trusts him so implicitly. He nods once and John smiles at the three leaders, particularly at Meenah again. "I think that works quite nicely."
Meenah dips her head in acknowledgement. "I am glad to hear of it, and to make good friends with people who would help us so freely." She places a hand on John's hand and something inside Rodney tightens up, like an elastic band pulled to taut.
John clears his throat and pulls his hand back. Teyla looks amused. Rodney just feels confused and annoyed. "Well, we appreciate everything you've done for us already." John says kindly. He pulls his hand from under hers, pats it and then stands up. "We have to tell our leader about this friendship we've found."
As they leave, Meenah steps closer to John, rests a hand lightly on his shoulder and turns him enough to look at her. "You do not wish to stay?" She asks, and her face is open and so very sweet. "The rain will last some time and in a few days the rain festivals will start. They are a great enjoyment among my people."
Teyla and John smile. Rodney glowers and for once, he thinks Ronon is on his side.
"We are appreciative," Teyla says, "but the news you bring is of great importance to these people. We must tell them of the good news. Once we are done, only then can we partake of your rain celebration." This is why Rodney isn't allowed to speak on diplomatic missions. Nothing he says could ever be as slick and sweet as Teyla.
With only a few more pleasantries they're finally able to slip from the town, and ok, it might be raining the whole way, but Rodney doesn't mind it so much this time. This walk means they can get the hell off this miserable wet rock and back to Atlantis where all the wet stays in one place.
They're in the Jumper and half way to the gate when John turns to Rodney sitting co-pilot but not allowed to do anything. "You did good." He says softly.
"I did?" Rodney asks blankly.
John smirks at him with bright dancing eyes. "You didn't talk during negotiations. I'd call that a win."
"Why thank you." Rodney says sarcastically. "Honestly I don't even know why you have that ridiculous rule. I mean, I probably could have gotten the wheat deal and only had to give them half of what you offered."
"We're giving them medical supplies." John reminds him. "And besides, if we're going to be friends then sharing is what we want to do, remember?"
"I sill could have brokered a better deal." Rodney sing songs. John and Teyla roll their eyes. "What? I could have!"
John shakes his head with a little half-smile and that weird fluttery-panic-deep-in-the-belly feeling he had all night visits him again. "Dialing in." John clears his throat and presses a button on the main console. "Atlantis, this is Puddle Jumper One. We've got all members of our team accounted for, a trade agreement, and a bunch of food come summertime. Permission to come through?"
"Puddle Jumper One, This is Atlantis," Chuck says through the usual static. "Good to hear from you. The gate is open, come on home."
And as they slide through the event horizon, Rodney looks at Sheppard. He seems so calm, so collected, so fucking pristine and perfect it's a little irritating. Rodney doesn't know what this feeling is, or why he even has it. He chalks it up to hunger, sleepiness and still being damp. His brain isn't functioning at full capacity now, that's all.
He also knows that he's spent the night with a (gay or at least partly gay) military friend and couldn't sleep the entire night.
He really wishes he knew what that meant too.
Weir, of course, is delighted with the news, and if Rodney was less tired, wet and hungry he would be able to enjoy the feeling of a job well done a bit more. All he wants to do is go back to his quarters, have a hot shower and sleep for a good thirteen hours.
That's also hours away. First it's down to the medical bay to get themselves checked over, and he even tells Beckett he feels fine. It still doesn't stop him from jabbing Rodney with needles and running him under scanner after scanner. Then it's off to debrief the rest of the senior staff, which takes another few hours, and then - oh yes, then - he's finally given leave to stumble off to his quarters.
John, however, catches up with him in the halls near his quarters. "Hey, wanna finish that movie later?"
Rodney had almost forgotten about the movie. They were supposed to finish it days ago but work keeps getting in the way. "Personally, all I want to do is sleep."
John frowns. "Didn't sleep well or something?"
"Exactly. Why do alien beds have to be so uncomfortable?"
John shrugs. "It was pretty comfortable for me."
"Yes, because you were sleeping in it properly. I, on the other hand, wasn't. I should also tell you that dodging your huge canoe like feet all night should rank somewhere in the Olympic games."
John looks at his feet. "They aren't like canoes. In fact, they're perfectly normal for my height."
"Yes, if you were eight feet tall." Rodney chuckles. They're at his quarters. "Once I'm up I'll radio you. See if you want to watch the movie still."
John nods and claps a hand on his shoulder. "Sounds good. Sleep well, Rodney."
Despite the exhaustion seeping into his bones, Rodney is smiling when he steps into his room.
Next Chapter
Author: Kitchyy
Rating: PG-NC-17
This Chapter: PG
Pairings: Eventual Sheppard/McKay
Warnings/Spoilers: Upto the End of Season 3, just to be safe
Summary for this chapter: Rodney hates the rain.
Disclaimer: So not mine. Never will be.
Previous Chapter
Stage Two: Confusion
Rodney hates the rain. He hates it even more when he doesn't know if it will ever end.
"It's just rain, McKay." Ronon mutters. It may just be rain, but it's cold and miserable and a lot of the stuff in his pack is electronic devices they need. If he hadn't put all of them in ziplock bags he'd be screwed right about now. Rodney wants to punch him for being so clueless sometimes. He doesn't though, if he were honest with himself, he never would either. Firstly, because he's a good friend that's saved his life time and time again. Secondly, he knows it will end up with him face down in the mud, too many bruises to count, his dignity in shreds and Ronon standing over him smiling like a maniac and he will not give that man the pleasure.
John and Teyla are talking with the top-planet-important-person of the hour, and for M93-7T8 it's a woman who looks a lot like Teyla. Rodney has a sudden urge to do a gender study on all the planets in the milky way with patriarchal heads versus the Pegasus with all the very many matriarchal heads. Maybe there's some correlation between star count and gravity and other randomized yet extremely important anomalies that defines this galaxy leaders as different from the one he grew up in.
Their conversation finally ends. The woman looks less than impressed, and Rodney can't tell if it's the rain or the conversation that's made her so annoyed.
"Ok, we can stay the night in the tavern. Or whatever they call it here." John's hair has flattened to his scalp and water drips from the point of his nose. "Ronon, Radio Atlantis, tell them we're gonna be a little late."
Ronon nods and walks off, his hand to his ear. "How long is a little late?" Rodney asks.
Teyla looks as miserable as he feels. "The rain can last for many days on this planet." She replies wearily.
His adrenaline spikes. "How long is many?" Rodney demands. He doesn't want to stay on a sodden rainy planet for more than is absolutely necessary.
"Many." John replies. He looks grim and Rodney sighs heavily. They really need to start checking long-term planetary weather forecasts before gating through. It would save a plethora of problems exactly like this one. He squelches miserably behind Sheppard and in front of Teyla into the local tavern. They broker two rooms, Teyla and Ronon claim one, which leaves him and John in the other.
"Remind me again why we came to this God forsaken rock?" Rodney asks as he strips out of his soaking wet clothes and pulls something not completely soaked through from his pack.
"Food, Rodney. Atlantis needs food." John is wearing his only spare clothing, an old pair of BDU's and a loose-fitting olive-green button down military shirt that's seen better days. The rest is placed strategically on random pieces of furniture near the fireplace to allow to dry. Even the fire looks miserable. it's tiny and hissing as rain comes in through the chimney.
Ah, yes. The crutch of the issue. "I don't see the problem with MRE's." He sniffs. He honestly doesn't understand why so many people have a problem with them. It reminds him of Campbell's soup and cafeteria food in first year university.
John tidies up his pack and leans it against the foot of the only bed. "Well, call me silly, but I don't feel like living on MRE's for the rest of my life."
"You're missing out." Rodney replies from the other side of the bed and his smile fades. One bed. One double sized bed to fit him and John, and after all the things he knows about him, he isn't sure if John wants to share the bed with him.
John stands on the other side looking just as lost. At least now that they're inside he doesn't look so much like the drowned rat he did half an hour ago. "So... Head to foot?" John asks. There's that unreadable look again. He has no idea what John is trying to say with his face and it's starting to annoy him almost as much as the rain.
He reminds himself of what people are supposed to do in times like this and nods his head. "Yeah, head to foot." Then he climbs into bed with only marginally damp clothing, grabs the pillow from the head of the bed, plops it at the foot and does his best to get comfortable. He wonders why all these planets need to stuff their mattresses with hey. Isn't there some type of alien cotton plant somewhere they can use to make sleeping slightly more comfortable? "Just... do me a favor and don't stick your feet in my face while I'm sleeping."
John smirks as he climbs into bed, his head resting comfortably at the proper end. "That, I think, I can handle." There's a pause as John climbs into bed. "At least I think so." John wiggles the nearest socked foot towards Rodney and he smacks it like some maiden aunt protecting her virtue.
"Just go to sleep." Rodney snaps and closes his eyes. All he can think about is the proximity of people, the heat of John's body and that their groins are perfectly aligned. Oh, he knows he shouldn't think these things. He still does though. It's not the kind of thing that turns him on, it really isn't, but he's aware of it, all the same. Painfully aware, and as John's breathing slowly change from controlled to even as he falls asleep, Rodney is still awake, counting breaths, counting seconds, minutes, hours, and another persons heartbeat and prays for sleep to come to him at least once to get these thoughts out of his head.
***
SGA-1 (that's what he calls his team in his head) is sitting in the tavern with the three heads of the community the next morning. Two of them are women and Rodney recognizes one of them from the conversation last night, looking much more put together than when he had first met her.
Actually, now that she's dry and her hair isn't matted together in wet pathetic, dripping clumps, she looks quite pretty. Attractive, even. Rodney tries to smile at her, but she completely ignores him, focusing instead on Lieutenant Colonel John Shepard and even gives him a sweet little smile.
Rodney's annoyed. And still wet in places he wouldn't like to share. He worries how fast it takes to develop Trenchfoot. John is smiling back at her, using that old Sheppard charm and it just... Grates on his nerves. If it wasn't for Atlantis going into full ration mode he would have said something by now.
"So, fourteen bushels of this... Kurah wheat in exchange for medical supplies and inoculations." Sheppard surmises. "I think we can do that."
"Our people will be grateful." The woman - Kina, Shina? - Rodney's never been good with names, says.
"Thank you Meenah, this will not go unforgotten." Teyla says, and they clasp hands like warriors. Rodney runs her name over and over in his head trying to remember it. He has a feeling he won't.
John smiles kindly at the three of them. "So, when do you think the harvest will be ready?" John asks.
Meenah blushes prettily but it's the old guy that replies with a voice that sounds like rusty pipes. "Give us two full changes of the large moon, and we will have your bushels."
Rodney does some quick math. This world has 3 moons. One tiny and two decent. One is slightly larger, a centimeter larger than earth's moon. he extrapolates what information he can from homing in on this planet when they came in on the Jumper. It will be another two and a half months. The rations by that time will be tight. Their food will not come amiss.
John looks at him and Rodney gets a small thrill that he trusts him so implicitly. He nods once and John smiles at the three leaders, particularly at Meenah again. "I think that works quite nicely."
Meenah dips her head in acknowledgement. "I am glad to hear of it, and to make good friends with people who would help us so freely." She places a hand on John's hand and something inside Rodney tightens up, like an elastic band pulled to taut.
John clears his throat and pulls his hand back. Teyla looks amused. Rodney just feels confused and annoyed. "Well, we appreciate everything you've done for us already." John says kindly. He pulls his hand from under hers, pats it and then stands up. "We have to tell our leader about this friendship we've found."
As they leave, Meenah steps closer to John, rests a hand lightly on his shoulder and turns him enough to look at her. "You do not wish to stay?" She asks, and her face is open and so very sweet. "The rain will last some time and in a few days the rain festivals will start. They are a great enjoyment among my people."
Teyla and John smile. Rodney glowers and for once, he thinks Ronon is on his side.
"We are appreciative," Teyla says, "but the news you bring is of great importance to these people. We must tell them of the good news. Once we are done, only then can we partake of your rain celebration." This is why Rodney isn't allowed to speak on diplomatic missions. Nothing he says could ever be as slick and sweet as Teyla.
With only a few more pleasantries they're finally able to slip from the town, and ok, it might be raining the whole way, but Rodney doesn't mind it so much this time. This walk means they can get the hell off this miserable wet rock and back to Atlantis where all the wet stays in one place.
They're in the Jumper and half way to the gate when John turns to Rodney sitting co-pilot but not allowed to do anything. "You did good." He says softly.
"I did?" Rodney asks blankly.
John smirks at him with bright dancing eyes. "You didn't talk during negotiations. I'd call that a win."
"Why thank you." Rodney says sarcastically. "Honestly I don't even know why you have that ridiculous rule. I mean, I probably could have gotten the wheat deal and only had to give them half of what you offered."
"We're giving them medical supplies." John reminds him. "And besides, if we're going to be friends then sharing is what we want to do, remember?"
"I sill could have brokered a better deal." Rodney sing songs. John and Teyla roll their eyes. "What? I could have!"
John shakes his head with a little half-smile and that weird fluttery-panic-deep-in-the-belly feeling he had all night visits him again. "Dialing in." John clears his throat and presses a button on the main console. "Atlantis, this is Puddle Jumper One. We've got all members of our team accounted for, a trade agreement, and a bunch of food come summertime. Permission to come through?"
"Puddle Jumper One, This is Atlantis," Chuck says through the usual static. "Good to hear from you. The gate is open, come on home."
And as they slide through the event horizon, Rodney looks at Sheppard. He seems so calm, so collected, so fucking pristine and perfect it's a little irritating. Rodney doesn't know what this feeling is, or why he even has it. He chalks it up to hunger, sleepiness and still being damp. His brain isn't functioning at full capacity now, that's all.
He also knows that he's spent the night with a (gay or at least partly gay) military friend and couldn't sleep the entire night.
He really wishes he knew what that meant too.
Weir, of course, is delighted with the news, and if Rodney was less tired, wet and hungry he would be able to enjoy the feeling of a job well done a bit more. All he wants to do is go back to his quarters, have a hot shower and sleep for a good thirteen hours.
That's also hours away. First it's down to the medical bay to get themselves checked over, and he even tells Beckett he feels fine. It still doesn't stop him from jabbing Rodney with needles and running him under scanner after scanner. Then it's off to debrief the rest of the senior staff, which takes another few hours, and then - oh yes, then - he's finally given leave to stumble off to his quarters.
John, however, catches up with him in the halls near his quarters. "Hey, wanna finish that movie later?"
Rodney had almost forgotten about the movie. They were supposed to finish it days ago but work keeps getting in the way. "Personally, all I want to do is sleep."
John frowns. "Didn't sleep well or something?"
"Exactly. Why do alien beds have to be so uncomfortable?"
John shrugs. "It was pretty comfortable for me."
"Yes, because you were sleeping in it properly. I, on the other hand, wasn't. I should also tell you that dodging your huge canoe like feet all night should rank somewhere in the Olympic games."
John looks at his feet. "They aren't like canoes. In fact, they're perfectly normal for my height."
"Yes, if you were eight feet tall." Rodney chuckles. They're at his quarters. "Once I'm up I'll radio you. See if you want to watch the movie still."
John nods and claps a hand on his shoulder. "Sounds good. Sleep well, Rodney."
Despite the exhaustion seeping into his bones, Rodney is smiling when he steps into his room.
Next Chapter
