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stargateficrec2010-05-04 04:55 pm
danceswithgary) wrote in stargateficrec2010-05-04 04:55 pm
Distraction by laceymcbain (R)
Show: SGA
Rec Category: Sheppard/McKay
Characters:: Rodney McKay, John Sheppard
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay
Het/Slash/Gen: Slash
Warnings:
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
laceymcbain
Author's Website: Sticky Man Press
Link: Distraction
Why This Must Be Read:
Written as a response to the 'Urban Legends Challenge,' this story has Rodney searching frantically for what is causing John's unique problem: hearing indescribable things in his head. As Rodney runs through temporary solutions while searching for the answer, he discovers just how far he's willing to go for John.
Excerpt:
Rodney has no idea how long there’s been knocking at the door. Long enough that the last remnants of his dream—puddlejumper soaring effortlessly through the skies, straight as an arrow—are marked by a sudden banging that makes Rodney wonder if the ship’s about to shimmy apart in new and frightening ways. Once he realizes the noise is external to his dream, he manages to pull himself out of sleep and stumble through the dark, hand hitting the access panel. He blinks owlishly as the light from the hallway hits him full in the face.
Even bleary-eyed and tired, he recognizes the silhouette in front of his door, and with a long-suffering sigh turns sideways to let Colonel Sheppard into his quarters.
“This better be good,” Rodney mutters, flipping on his bedside lamp. It’s three in the morning, and he only just remembers tumbling into bed sometime around two. He makes a haphazard attempt to straighten the sheets before he flops down, but they’re mostly a lost cause. Sheppard grabs the desk chair, sitting down and running both hands through his hair; he doesn’t look like he’s slept at all, although Rodney can’t tell from the hair. It always looks like Sheppard just rolled out of bed.
“John?” Rodney reaches out and pushes at John’s shoulder. “What?”
“I think I’m going nuts.”
Rodney just stares. He knows John well enough to know it’s cost him a great deal to come here, to say something like this, so Rodney holds the sarcasm that’s resting on his tongue and grabs the bottle of Canadian whiskey he keeps in his closet for emergencies. He pours them each a shot. When John downs his without a comment, Rodney knows exactly how bad things are. John doesn’t even like whiskey.
“Talk.” Rodney pours them each another drink, then settles back onto his bed. His patience with John’s silence lasts approximately eight seconds before he rolls his eyes and huffs loudly. “You can’t come here in the middle of the night and say something like that without expecting me to ask questions. And if I’m wasting my purloined liquor on you without a good reason—”
“Purloined?” John asks, raising an eyebrow, and Rodney almost grins back except he knows allowing Sheppard to get sidetracked won’t get him any answers.
“We live in the lost city of Atlantis and routinely escape death at the hands—literally—of Marilyn Manson wannabe space vampires. So why exactly do you think you’re going nuts?” Rodney asks, deciding to cut through to the heart of the problem, and he sees John make a face around his last swallow of whiskey, knows how John’s regretting his choice of words even now. Probably regretting his choice of confidante even more. John’s here because there isn’t anyone else he can talk to, and somehow that’s not as comforting as it should be.
“It’s not—I shouldn’t have—”
“Oh, please. I’m not going to tell Heightmeyer or Elizabeth, unless of course you really are going nuts and you’re about to endanger our lives.” Rodney studies John’s face carefully, wondering if he should start keeping one of those Wraith stunners in his quarters just in case. “You’re not, are you?”
...
Rec Category: Sheppard/McKay
Characters:: Rodney McKay, John Sheppard
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay
Het/Slash/Gen: Slash
Warnings:
Author on LJ:
laceymcbainAuthor's Website: Sticky Man Press
Link: Distraction
Why This Must Be Read:
Written as a response to the 'Urban Legends Challenge,' this story has Rodney searching frantically for what is causing John's unique problem: hearing indescribable things in his head. As Rodney runs through temporary solutions while searching for the answer, he discovers just how far he's willing to go for John.
Excerpt:
Rodney has no idea how long there’s been knocking at the door. Long enough that the last remnants of his dream—puddlejumper soaring effortlessly through the skies, straight as an arrow—are marked by a sudden banging that makes Rodney wonder if the ship’s about to shimmy apart in new and frightening ways. Once he realizes the noise is external to his dream, he manages to pull himself out of sleep and stumble through the dark, hand hitting the access panel. He blinks owlishly as the light from the hallway hits him full in the face.
Even bleary-eyed and tired, he recognizes the silhouette in front of his door, and with a long-suffering sigh turns sideways to let Colonel Sheppard into his quarters.
“This better be good,” Rodney mutters, flipping on his bedside lamp. It’s three in the morning, and he only just remembers tumbling into bed sometime around two. He makes a haphazard attempt to straighten the sheets before he flops down, but they’re mostly a lost cause. Sheppard grabs the desk chair, sitting down and running both hands through his hair; he doesn’t look like he’s slept at all, although Rodney can’t tell from the hair. It always looks like Sheppard just rolled out of bed.
“John?” Rodney reaches out and pushes at John’s shoulder. “What?”
“I think I’m going nuts.”
Rodney just stares. He knows John well enough to know it’s cost him a great deal to come here, to say something like this, so Rodney holds the sarcasm that’s resting on his tongue and grabs the bottle of Canadian whiskey he keeps in his closet for emergencies. He pours them each a shot. When John downs his without a comment, Rodney knows exactly how bad things are. John doesn’t even like whiskey.
“Talk.” Rodney pours them each another drink, then settles back onto his bed. His patience with John’s silence lasts approximately eight seconds before he rolls his eyes and huffs loudly. “You can’t come here in the middle of the night and say something like that without expecting me to ask questions. And if I’m wasting my purloined liquor on you without a good reason—”
“Purloined?” John asks, raising an eyebrow, and Rodney almost grins back except he knows allowing Sheppard to get sidetracked won’t get him any answers.
“We live in the lost city of Atlantis and routinely escape death at the hands—literally—of Marilyn Manson wannabe space vampires. So why exactly do you think you’re going nuts?” Rodney asks, deciding to cut through to the heart of the problem, and he sees John make a face around his last swallow of whiskey, knows how John’s regretting his choice of words even now. Probably regretting his choice of confidante even more. John’s here because there isn’t anyone else he can talk to, and somehow that’s not as comforting as it should be.
“It’s not—I shouldn’t have—”
“Oh, please. I’m not going to tell Heightmeyer or Elizabeth, unless of course you really are going nuts and you’re about to endanger our lives.” Rodney studies John’s face carefully, wondering if he should start keeping one of those Wraith stunners in his quarters just in case. “You’re not, are you?”
...