![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
danceswithgary posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
stargateficrecShow: SGA
Rec Category: Sheppard/McKay
Characters:: Rodney McKay, John Sheppard
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay
Het/Slash/Gen: Slash
Warnings: None
Author on DW:![[personal profile]](https://s.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
erda
Author's Website:
Link: Perfect Strains May Float
Why This Must Be Read:
Late night radio calls turn Rodney into a sexy storyteller who's required to navigate carefully through the landmines of John's psyche. I find myself rooting for Rodney to succeed and cringing when he blunders right through to the sweet ending.
Excerpt:
It wasn’t that there was anything strange about Sheppard contacting him by radio. He did it all the time. But lately at least once a week, sometimes twice a week, always in the evening, around the time most of the day staff would be settling down to sleep, he seemed to call for no particular reason. No, McKay where are you? Or McKay I need you in the gate room, or anything pointed like that. These were conversations where Sheppard seemed more interested in listening than talking, and he didn’t seem very invested in the topic.
This evening was a case in point. Sheppard had said he was going to turn in early, try to catch up on missed sleep, and Rodney had decided to do the same. But only a few minutes after settling down in bed Sheppard called him. “What are you doing?”
Sheppard’s voice was soft and intimate, and it made Rodney shiver to lie in his bed in the dark and talk to him. “Nothing I would expect you to understand,” he lied. He saw no reason to let Sheppard know he wasn’t working late.
“Try me,” Sheppard said. That was Rodney’s invitation to start talking, but since he wasn’t actually doing anything, he let loose with some of his always available complaints about the incompetence of the people he had to work with. He knew that amused Sheppard, which seemed to be the purpose of the calls, for him to provide some mild diversion so the man could relax enough to sleep. But lately he had a funny feeling like he was missing something just on the edge of his awareness. He listened closely to Sheppard, not that there was a lot to hear, just a stray breath now and then and a soft sound of motion against bedding. Sheppard was in bed apparently.
“Anyway,” he said, wrapping up his complaint. “ I think I disabused her of the notion that I’d go easy on her just because she’s hot.”
“You think she’s attractive?” Sheppard asked. Rodney was surprised. Sheppard hardly ever said a word during these bedtime talks.
“Don’t you?” he asked.
“Don’t know her,” Sheppard said. He sounded a little breathless. “What does she look like? Blonde?”
“Uh, no,” he said. “She has brown hair, actually.” If he hadn’t been straining to hear, he would have missed the little catch in Sheppard’s voice. In fact, he wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it. “You’d like her,” he said more deliberately. “The hair’s long and has a bit of a natural wave, curls down over her neck and shoulders…” and he was sure now that he could hear Sheppard breathing a little heavier. “I might actually ask her out,” he said, which was a complete lie. “I’ve heard she’s a lot of fun. Think I’d get lucky?”
Sheppard snorted. “You? Would you even know what to do?”
“Grow up,” he said to give himself time to think about what he was doing, but it seemed harmless, and he was getting a huge hard on thinking about the possibility that he was turning Sheppard on.
“Hey,” Rodney added. “Maybe she’d invite me back to her room. I’d like to see what she looks like without the uniform, you know? Because she looks good enough in it that you’ve got to want to take it off.”
Sheppard didn’t answer, unless you counted the quick sound of his breathing. Rodney thought about saying more, going into more graphic detail, but he was afraid to push. They were still in the realm of plausible deniability and he wasn’t completely certain he wasn’t imagining what Sheppard was doing, so he backed up. “Yeah, I think I’m going to ask her out.” There was no way he could do that, of course- the woman was a direct subordinate- but Sheppard didn’t object; he’d gone back to silent mode.
There was a long pause before Sheppard spoke again, and it was just to say, “Well, I’m going to get some sleep.”
...
Rec Category: Sheppard/McKay
Characters:: Rodney McKay, John Sheppard
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay
Het/Slash/Gen: Slash
Warnings: None
Author on DW:
erdaAuthor's Website:
Link: Perfect Strains May Float
Why This Must Be Read:
Late night radio calls turn Rodney into a sexy storyteller who's required to navigate carefully through the landmines of John's psyche. I find myself rooting for Rodney to succeed and cringing when he blunders right through to the sweet ending.
Excerpt:
It wasn’t that there was anything strange about Sheppard contacting him by radio. He did it all the time. But lately at least once a week, sometimes twice a week, always in the evening, around the time most of the day staff would be settling down to sleep, he seemed to call for no particular reason. No, McKay where are you? Or McKay I need you in the gate room, or anything pointed like that. These were conversations where Sheppard seemed more interested in listening than talking, and he didn’t seem very invested in the topic.
This evening was a case in point. Sheppard had said he was going to turn in early, try to catch up on missed sleep, and Rodney had decided to do the same. But only a few minutes after settling down in bed Sheppard called him. “What are you doing?”
Sheppard’s voice was soft and intimate, and it made Rodney shiver to lie in his bed in the dark and talk to him. “Nothing I would expect you to understand,” he lied. He saw no reason to let Sheppard know he wasn’t working late.
“Try me,” Sheppard said. That was Rodney’s invitation to start talking, but since he wasn’t actually doing anything, he let loose with some of his always available complaints about the incompetence of the people he had to work with. He knew that amused Sheppard, which seemed to be the purpose of the calls, for him to provide some mild diversion so the man could relax enough to sleep. But lately he had a funny feeling like he was missing something just on the edge of his awareness. He listened closely to Sheppard, not that there was a lot to hear, just a stray breath now and then and a soft sound of motion against bedding. Sheppard was in bed apparently.
“Anyway,” he said, wrapping up his complaint. “ I think I disabused her of the notion that I’d go easy on her just because she’s hot.”
“You think she’s attractive?” Sheppard asked. Rodney was surprised. Sheppard hardly ever said a word during these bedtime talks.
“Don’t you?” he asked.
“Don’t know her,” Sheppard said. He sounded a little breathless. “What does she look like? Blonde?”
“Uh, no,” he said. “She has brown hair, actually.” If he hadn’t been straining to hear, he would have missed the little catch in Sheppard’s voice. In fact, he wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it. “You’d like her,” he said more deliberately. “The hair’s long and has a bit of a natural wave, curls down over her neck and shoulders…” and he was sure now that he could hear Sheppard breathing a little heavier. “I might actually ask her out,” he said, which was a complete lie. “I’ve heard she’s a lot of fun. Think I’d get lucky?”
Sheppard snorted. “You? Would you even know what to do?”
“Grow up,” he said to give himself time to think about what he was doing, but it seemed harmless, and he was getting a huge hard on thinking about the possibility that he was turning Sheppard on.
“Hey,” Rodney added. “Maybe she’d invite me back to her room. I’d like to see what she looks like without the uniform, you know? Because she looks good enough in it that you’ve got to want to take it off.”
Sheppard didn’t answer, unless you counted the quick sound of his breathing. Rodney thought about saying more, going into more graphic detail, but he was afraid to push. They were still in the realm of plausible deniability and he wasn’t completely certain he wasn’t imagining what Sheppard was doing, so he backed up. “Yeah, I think I’m going to ask her out.” There was no way he could do that, of course- the woman was a direct subordinate- but Sheppard didn’t object; he’d gone back to silent mode.
There was a long pause before Sheppard spoke again, and it was just to say, “Well, I’m going to get some sleep.”
...
