cat_77 | SGA: Traveling Home

Title: Traveling Home

Genre: SGA, Episode Related, Slash: McShep

Rating: R

Spoilers/Season: 4.05 “Travelers”

Synopsis: “What, you get captured by some hot little space pirate and you don’t expect me to give you a hard time?”

Disclaimer: I don’t own them, people with a lot of money do. I’m just borrowing them to play for a bit in a solely not-for-profit way.

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“McKay, will you let it drop?” John asked. He did not whine, really he didn’t, as he walked down the hallway to his quarters.

Rodney seemed to ponder that for a whole of five seconds before deciding, “No, I don’t think I will.”

Sheppard resisted the urge to pound his head into the wall and keyed his door open instead, waving his hand in front of the control until it picked up his signature and slid to the side for him. “Rodney,” he sighed, not even surprised the other man followed him into his room without asking.

“What?” McKay asked, playing up his confusion. “You get captured by some hot little space pirate and you don’t expect me to give you a hard time?”

“She had me tortured!” Sheppard reminded him, starting to unbutton his shirt. The urge to sleep was battling with the urge to shower, and cleanliness was winning out despite his exhaustion. At this point, he didn’t even care if Rodney was still in the room. Maybe he would take the hint and leave him alone, or at least let it drop enough for him to pass out.

No such luck. “Tortured? What, did she only use cotton and not silk sheets in her harem?”

“McKay, shut up,” John groaned, wincing as he pulled his shirt off his shoulders. Tossing it to the side, he grabbed the hem of his undershirt and, after a steadying breath, pealed it off his skin and over his head to join the first shirt on the floor.

“Please,” Rodney waived him off. “It’s just so... Well, crap,” he abruptly cut himself off mid-sentence catching a glimpse of the colorful bruising lining Sheppard’s rib cage and back. “Is that a footprint?” he asked, pointing to something that looked suspiciously boot-shaped.

“Probably,” John shrugged it off, but soon regretted the motion. In the comfort of his own quarters, he could lose part of the façade and admit to himself that he hurt.

Callused fingers ghosted gently over his back, tracing what he knew to be decently deep bruises that wrapped around his side and to his front. “I didn’t...” came a hushed whisper.

“Think I was serious?” John finished for him. He tried not to flinch when the questing fingers found a particularly sensitive spot.

“She...” Rodney started again, but trailed off as he seemed to search for the right words.

“Mostly her goons did this,” Sheppard assured him. “Though she managed to get in a few good hits herself,” he added, working his sore jaw. There was a reason he had opted for only soft foods in the cafeteria.

The motion must have drew the other man’s attention to the still-darkening marks on his cheek and jaw as the gentle fingers soon found their way there, the touch feather-light before settling against his skin. “Why?” was all he asked. It was a simple question, asked softly, but the underlying current of anger was still there.

“I pissed her off,” Sheppard smirked, turning his head slightly to the side to kiss his lover’s palm.

“Imagine that,” Rodney reluctantly smiled, using his thumb to trace the other man’s split lip.

“She threatened to toss me into space, opened the hanger doors and everything,” Sheppard confided, starting to undo his pants to further his quest for a shower.

The hand on his cheek tightened painfully. “What?” McKay raged with a horrified look. “She was going to toss you out an airlock and you just thought of telling me this? Why aren’t you in the infirmary? The decompression alone could have caused brain damage!”

John backed away from the grasp, sitting heavily on the bed and using the extra space to untie his boots and kick them off. “Relax, there was a forcefield that she assured me was somewhat reliable,” he soothed. Seeing that it had a less than calming effect, he added, “I was cleared by medical: just some bruising and the lingering effects of the stunner and such.”

“Stunner?” McKay prompted, stepping closer to the bed.

“Both Wraith and other,” John dutifully reported. “Looked like the one Ronon carries. Felt like it too.”

“And such?” came the next prompt as Rodney moved to stand between his legs, lowering his hands to shoulders tense from both the stress of the last few days and his injuries. A gentle kneading and he was in heaven.

Lowering his head to allow better access to his neck, he responded, “Minor radiation exposure. Keller wasn’t sure if the tingliness was from the stunners or from the possible exposure, so she ran all the tests just to make sure.”

The hands on his skin stilled. “Radiation?” McKay asked in a voice that clearly said, “And you weren’t going to tell me this because you’re a fly-boy moron who cares less about himself than his next heroic rescue?”

John looked up, trying the puppy dog eyes that usually let him get his way. From the gaze that met his though, he was pretty sure it wasn’t going to work this time. “Minor,” he stressed. “Minor radiation and the ship told me I was relatively protected.”

Rodney sighed, letting go and sitting down next to him on the bed. “The ship told you?”

John nodded. “Ancient interface. It confirmed it in both the weapons room and the auxiliary control room,” he explained, knowing Rodney understood full well how the Lantean interfaces “communicated” with them and could extrapolate that any Ancient tech would do the same. “Personally, I think it was just happy I rewired its defenses after we got shot by the Wraith.”

Rodney looked like he didn’t know whether to hang his head or shake it. “You know, you’re just digging yourself deeper,” he pointed out.

John leaned back and removed his pants and his socks in one fell swoop and then looked to Rodney with questioning eyes.

Rodney picked up on the unasked query, explaining, “Your Jumper was shot at and disabled, you were taken prisoner and had the crap beat out of you, you were almost spaced, got shot at, were exposed to radiation, were attacked by the Wraith... Am I missing anything or should I just move on to asking you why the hell you aren’t in the infirmary right now?” He had ticked off each offense with his fingers, ending with a sarcastic little wave that made John smile.

“So you don’t want to know about engaging the engines without the inertial dampeners or the possibly being drugged by the little bit of wine-substitute I had?” he asked innocently.

“No, really I don’t,” McKay replied. “I don’t want to know how some bimbo drugged you to have her wicked way with you.”

“McKay!” John sighed in exasperation. “All she wanted was my genes, nothing more.” He was decidedly not telling him about the little incident in the hallway with the lips and the kiss and the falling for it. He was also decidedly not pointing out that a few minutes ago the only concern on Rodney’s mind was to give him a hard time. Instead, he pushed himself up from the bed and limped towards the bathroom. Sitting still for even that short amount of time had caused his muscles to lock up and protest now that Keller’s drugs had worn off and the hot shower was calling to him.

“And where have we heard that before?” Rodney countered, not moving from his place on the bed.

John sighed, again, and turned around to face the man he was really beginning to question why he loved in the first place. “I appreciate your concern for my virtue,” he began, leaning down to cup the scowling face. “But remember, I chose you,” he finished, placing a chaste kiss on his lover’s lips.

McKay kissed back slowly, cautiously, both seeming to relax under each other’s careful touch. As much as Sheppard would have loved to draw out the moment, his back chose that moment to twinge and remind him leaning over for long periods of time was not on the agenda at this time. With one last swipe across his lips, he pulled back.

Always one for treasuring the moment, McKay smiled, “And that would mean so much more if I didn’t know about your bisexual tendencies when it comes to space sluts...”

“Rodney!” John warned, but could see the light in the other man’s gaze and knew he was not serious.

The man in question raised up his hands in his defense. “Hey,” he started. “I’m not the only one you have to worry about here. Just think of what Atlantis will do to you if she finds out you two-timed her with some no-name little hussy.”

John mouthed the words, not believing what he was hearing. “Do you mean the Ancient ship?” he finally asked.

“Don’t tell me you weren’t messing around with the wiring, stroking the control panels, getting her all fired up for action,” McKay mock-huffed. With a wicked grin he started to remove his jacket and added, “I think I better join you in that shower, just to make sure the city doesn’t do something dire to you.”

Sheppard couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that formed in his chest. “I love you, you know that, right?”

Rodney met his gaze with a raised eyebrow. “And, for some inexplicable reason, I love you too,” he said, toeing off his boots. Safely muffled by the fabric as he pulled off his shirt, he added, “Even if you are nothing but a technology-molesting trollop.”

“A technology-molesting trollop?” John repeated incredulously.

McKay stilled his movements, holding his shirt in his lap. “A pretty technology-molesting trollop?” He swallowed heavily. “With pretty physics-defying hair?”

“Who’s digging himself deeper now?” John asked, trying to cross in arms in front of him but finding it squeezed his already tender ribcage a bit too much.

“My technology-molesting trollop?” Rodney tried.

John turned his head to hide his smile before hobbling towards the bathroom. Not hearing his lover follow, he looked back over his shoulder to see him still sitting on the bed, looking unsure of himself, always a rarity. “Come on, Rodney, I’m going to go molest something in the shower, you want to join in?” he called.

Rodney’s face lit up as he stood and began to discard the rest of his clothing. “I’m not sure if I have your level of expertise at this, are you willing to teach me? Maybe a hands-on lesson?” he asked, quickly snapping back to his usual self.

John smirked as he backed his way into the bathroom. “Oh, I think that can be arranged.”

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Feedback is always welcomed.

Edit: I forgot to thank RK for all the emails trying to figure out the best insults...

SGA: Traveling Home

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