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stargateficrecShow: Stargate Atlantis
Rec Category: AU
Characters: John Sheppard, Rodney McKay
Categories: Pre-slash, AU, First Meetings
Warnings: Mention of past homophobic behavior
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
yin_again
Link to Fic (AO3): Complimentary Colors
Why This Must Be Read: This is a quiet, moody piece that just really sucks you in. It takes place primarily in Rodney's apartment/art studio, so it's a very self-contained fic as well. Rodney is very much in character here, focused on the work and little else. But he slowly gets to know his new model, John, who is fresh from an Air Force discharge and is clearly ill at ease with the whole modeling process at first.
The art details in this are very nice - Rodney mixes his own paints, stretches his own canvas, and is incredibly particular about lighting and curves vs. lines. The slow progression of his friendship with John is lovely, and his finished pieces - done for an art show - are a wonderful tie-in to the series. I really love this story!
When the doorbell rang Monday morning, Rodney was up to his elbow-length latex gloves in oil paint. Oil paint that he was making by hand. Of course he made his own paint – he considered the process to be akin to a combination of the sophisticated science of polymer chemistry and intuition. Not surprisingly, he was better at the chemistry part.
Rodney mostly worked in watercolor – he was well known for coaxing deep colors from a medium more well-known for delicate washes and intricate detail. He had his own recipes for watercolor. However, the "stained glass" effect on the previous day's sketch would require the slickness and luminosity of oil. He was going to have to counteract the medium's tendency for colors to blend together, as he needed sharp divisions between panels – maybe extra drying time, but that would make the bitch last for weeks. He was considering mixing media, but had not quite determined the best way to go.
The doorbell rang again, and Rodney pulled his hands out of the vat and stripped the gloves off, hurrying across the studio.
He opened the door and said, "Yes!"
The man standing there was perfect. Young-ish, male, tall, lean and with sharp features.
Rodney grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the studio, kicking the door shut behind him. He had a sudden thought. "Oh, please tell me you're from the agency. Please don't tell me you're my new neighbor or from the building commission or you just hit my car in the parking lot."
The guy leaned back against the door in an easy slouch. "I'm from the agency," he said. He reached forward and touched the side of Rodney's face. While Rodney gaped at him, he held up two fingers with a smear of blue on them. "You had paint on your face."
Rodney lifted up the hem of his shirt and wiped the blue from the man's fingers and then, as an afterthought, he used the tails to scrub at his own face.
"You are exactly what I need," Rodney said. "Take off your clothes."
"Okay," the guy said slowly. "I'm John Sheppard."
Rodney grabbed his hand, shook it, then used the grip to pull John further into his studio. "Rodney McKay. Clothes off, on the couch – there's a screen over there if you have delicate sensibilities."
John started to walk slowly across the studio. "Wasting light, wasting light, wasting light," Rodney called after him, practically running to the easel to set up a huge pad of watercolor paper. "Hurry up," he yelled.
"What, no robe?" John stuck his head around the screen.
"What?" Rodney yelped. "Oh, god – you've only done classroom, haven't you? I was kidding about the delicate sensibilities. Move."
John came around the screen looking nervous and went to stand next to the couch.
Rodney came around, grabbed John by the shoulders and pushed, but John stiffened and unconsciously resisted. "Did they teach you nothing? Even for classroom?"
"Uh," John said. "I'm kinda new – I only did classroom once."
"Jesus. Okay, do what I say and I promise we'll talk about it later. See that?" He pointed at the skylight over the couch. "That is us losing the good light. Please just lie down and let me move you around and then let me get behind the damned easel. It's nothing personal, I swear."
Rec Category: AU
Characters: John Sheppard, Rodney McKay
Categories: Pre-slash, AU, First Meetings
Warnings: Mention of past homophobic behavior
Author on LJ:
yin_againLink to Fic (AO3): Complimentary Colors
Why This Must Be Read: This is a quiet, moody piece that just really sucks you in. It takes place primarily in Rodney's apartment/art studio, so it's a very self-contained fic as well. Rodney is very much in character here, focused on the work and little else. But he slowly gets to know his new model, John, who is fresh from an Air Force discharge and is clearly ill at ease with the whole modeling process at first.
The art details in this are very nice - Rodney mixes his own paints, stretches his own canvas, and is incredibly particular about lighting and curves vs. lines. The slow progression of his friendship with John is lovely, and his finished pieces - done for an art show - are a wonderful tie-in to the series. I really love this story!
When the doorbell rang Monday morning, Rodney was up to his elbow-length latex gloves in oil paint. Oil paint that he was making by hand. Of course he made his own paint – he considered the process to be akin to a combination of the sophisticated science of polymer chemistry and intuition. Not surprisingly, he was better at the chemistry part.
Rodney mostly worked in watercolor – he was well known for coaxing deep colors from a medium more well-known for delicate washes and intricate detail. He had his own recipes for watercolor. However, the "stained glass" effect on the previous day's sketch would require the slickness and luminosity of oil. He was going to have to counteract the medium's tendency for colors to blend together, as he needed sharp divisions between panels – maybe extra drying time, but that would make the bitch last for weeks. He was considering mixing media, but had not quite determined the best way to go.
The doorbell rang again, and Rodney pulled his hands out of the vat and stripped the gloves off, hurrying across the studio.
He opened the door and said, "Yes!"
The man standing there was perfect. Young-ish, male, tall, lean and with sharp features.
Rodney grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the studio, kicking the door shut behind him. He had a sudden thought. "Oh, please tell me you're from the agency. Please don't tell me you're my new neighbor or from the building commission or you just hit my car in the parking lot."
The guy leaned back against the door in an easy slouch. "I'm from the agency," he said. He reached forward and touched the side of Rodney's face. While Rodney gaped at him, he held up two fingers with a smear of blue on them. "You had paint on your face."
Rodney lifted up the hem of his shirt and wiped the blue from the man's fingers and then, as an afterthought, he used the tails to scrub at his own face.
"You are exactly what I need," Rodney said. "Take off your clothes."
"Okay," the guy said slowly. "I'm John Sheppard."
Rodney grabbed his hand, shook it, then used the grip to pull John further into his studio. "Rodney McKay. Clothes off, on the couch – there's a screen over there if you have delicate sensibilities."
John started to walk slowly across the studio. "Wasting light, wasting light, wasting light," Rodney called after him, practically running to the easel to set up a huge pad of watercolor paper. "Hurry up," he yelled.
"What, no robe?" John stuck his head around the screen.
"What?" Rodney yelped. "Oh, god – you've only done classroom, haven't you? I was kidding about the delicate sensibilities. Move."
John came around the screen looking nervous and went to stand next to the couch.
Rodney came around, grabbed John by the shoulders and pushed, but John stiffened and unconsciously resisted. "Did they teach you nothing? Even for classroom?"
"Uh," John said. "I'm kinda new – I only did classroom once."
"Jesus. Okay, do what I say and I promise we'll talk about it later. See that?" He pointed at the skylight over the couch. "That is us losing the good light. Please just lie down and let me move you around and then let me get behind the damned easel. It's nothing personal, I swear."
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