McShep Fic
Nov. 12th, 2005 09:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moonlettuceHa! I should be writing NaNo, so I did this instead *grin*
Deck The Halls
by Claire
"Oh god." The small whimper escaped Rodney's mouth as he cracked open his eyes, the light shining in the window only adding to the pounding in his head. Only, the last time he'd looked he was sure he hadn't had a window there. Which meant either he'd staggered into the wrong quarters and any minute now Nurse Ellison was going to start screaming at him to get out of her bed, or he'd crashed on the cot in the corner of lab 2 again. Considering Jenny Ellison studied Kendo and had a mean right hook for someone who was only 5'1, Rodney sincerely hoped it was the latter.
Carefully covering his eyes with an arm, Rodney tried to remember the previous night. Some genius on the science team, and damn if Rodney wasn't going to kill them when he worked out who it had been, had calculated that it was nearly Christmas back on Earth. This had led to a few people asking Elizabeth if she minded if they quietly celebrated the festive season, all of whom were soon drowned out by a flurry of people wanting a reason to get pissed and party.
Elizabeth had agreed, hoping that those on the expedition who came from cultures where Christmas wasn't celebrated didn't get offended. But apparently everyone had needed an outlet for all the tension supplied by the Wraith and the Genii and the constantly trying to stop themselves from dying in some spectacular form or another, and within days even those who didn't even celebrate Christmas were all humming 'Jingle Bells'.
After the arrival of the Daedalus, it had all gotten much worse, and Rodney still couldn't believe that General Landry had even signed the requisition form for a 25-foot tree, never mind that they managed to fit the thing in the Mess Hall, complete with baubles and candy canes.
As the day of the actual Atlantis Christmas Party (and, yes, you could hear the capitals when people said it) had arrived, Rodney had been more than prepared to wait out the insanity in one of the labs. He'd had six reports that needed finishing, three reports from other people that needed mocking and shredding, five pieces of Ancient technology that he still needed to figure out and thirteen MREs, and that was all he had needed to last out the night. And then Radek had appeared and refused to take no for an answer when he told Rodney they were going to the party.
So Rodney had gone, and he was never going to forgive Radek. Ever.
There had been music, lights, alcohol and some sort of short thing that had either been Hermiod in a Santa hat or a really ugly child; Rodney still wasn't sure about that one. Then there had been more alcohol and, dear god, *mistletoe* - and who would have thought that Ronon tasted like blackberries - and *that's* where it got fuzzy. Rodney could remember Carson breaking out the bottle of whiskey he was keeping for a special occasion, and a few of them ending up in Elizabeth's office, although he's not entirely convinced if they really were playing truth or dare at that point or if the mental image he has of Teyla kissing Elizabeth is just some sort of wishful thinking.
Trying to will his hangover into oblivion so he could get up and do some work, Rodney stretched, murmuring an apology when his fingers hit the person next to him in the bed.
He paused.
The person next to him in the bed.
Flexing his fingers slightly he jerked his hand back quickly at the touch of the hard muscles under his fingers.
Oh god.
Either he was in bed with Ronon, one of the marines, or Olga Sirtis from Botany. Whichever way it was, it was someone who had the ability to break him into very small pieces.
"Stop panicking, Rodney, the tension's making my head hurt."
Rodney's head snapped around at the voice. "Colonel?!" He winced at the squeak. Partly at the entire 'squeaking like a girl' thing, and partly because it didn't do his headache any favours.
"Yes, Rodney?" Sheppard's voice was mercifully soft.
"What are you doing in bed with me?"
A leer crossed Sheppard's face. "Don't you remember?"
Rodney quickly flicked through his memories. Party. Music. Whiskey. Truth or Dare. Teyla and Elizabeth (and he really hoped that one wasn't just his imagination). More whiskey. Nowhere in that list was 'hot gay sex with Colonel Sheppard'.
A hand suddenly crept onto his thigh. "Rodney?"
"Stop that!" Rodney was busy trying to trawl through every part of his mind for even a sliver of a memory, and Sheppard's fingertips dancing over his skin were just too damn distracting to let him get on with it.
"You weren't saying that last night when I was sucking your cock," Sheppard said lightly.
Rodney's eyes widened. Oh god, he'd had sex with Sheppard.
"And," Sheppard continued, oblivious to Rodney's horror, "you certainly weren't saying that when you were begging me to fuck you stupid."
Oh god, he'd had sex with Sheppard *when he was too damn drunk to remember it the next morning*. That was why Rodney hated Christmas. One minute, you were drinking down vodka that had been made from the left over potatoes someone found in the kitchen, and the next thing you know, you'd spent the night making like mad minks with the best looking person on base and you were too pissed to remember a bloody thing.
Rodney could have kicked himself. He'd finally got John Sheppard into bed and he didn't even remember it. He covered his face with his hands and moaned.
"Rodney? Are you okay?"
"Yes," he snapped. "As fine as I can be after having finally gotten you in bed, and not remembering a damn thing about it."
Sheppard, John -- he guessed having had even un-remembered sex with the man at least entitled Rodney to call him by his first name -- started to laugh.
"Well, I'm pleased you find it funny!" Rodney moved his hands and glared at John. "At least you *remember* what happened last night."
John leant over, breath soft as it ran over Rodney's cheek. "Since you're the genius here, I shouldn't be the one who needs to point out that, technically, you *still* have me in bed."
The litany of self-recrimination that was running through Rodney's head stopped suddenly. John had a point. "I don't remember what we did last night," he said.
John grinned. "I'll just have to remind you then, won't I."
The last thought Rodney had before John pounced was that he really needed to find out who had figured out it was Christmas and give them a day off.
The End
Deck The Halls
by Claire
"Oh god." The small whimper escaped Rodney's mouth as he cracked open his eyes, the light shining in the window only adding to the pounding in his head. Only, the last time he'd looked he was sure he hadn't had a window there. Which meant either he'd staggered into the wrong quarters and any minute now Nurse Ellison was going to start screaming at him to get out of her bed, or he'd crashed on the cot in the corner of lab 2 again. Considering Jenny Ellison studied Kendo and had a mean right hook for someone who was only 5'1, Rodney sincerely hoped it was the latter.
Carefully covering his eyes with an arm, Rodney tried to remember the previous night. Some genius on the science team, and damn if Rodney wasn't going to kill them when he worked out who it had been, had calculated that it was nearly Christmas back on Earth. This had led to a few people asking Elizabeth if she minded if they quietly celebrated the festive season, all of whom were soon drowned out by a flurry of people wanting a reason to get pissed and party.
Elizabeth had agreed, hoping that those on the expedition who came from cultures where Christmas wasn't celebrated didn't get offended. But apparently everyone had needed an outlet for all the tension supplied by the Wraith and the Genii and the constantly trying to stop themselves from dying in some spectacular form or another, and within days even those who didn't even celebrate Christmas were all humming 'Jingle Bells'.
After the arrival of the Daedalus, it had all gotten much worse, and Rodney still couldn't believe that General Landry had even signed the requisition form for a 25-foot tree, never mind that they managed to fit the thing in the Mess Hall, complete with baubles and candy canes.
As the day of the actual Atlantis Christmas Party (and, yes, you could hear the capitals when people said it) had arrived, Rodney had been more than prepared to wait out the insanity in one of the labs. He'd had six reports that needed finishing, three reports from other people that needed mocking and shredding, five pieces of Ancient technology that he still needed to figure out and thirteen MREs, and that was all he had needed to last out the night. And then Radek had appeared and refused to take no for an answer when he told Rodney they were going to the party.
So Rodney had gone, and he was never going to forgive Radek. Ever.
There had been music, lights, alcohol and some sort of short thing that had either been Hermiod in a Santa hat or a really ugly child; Rodney still wasn't sure about that one. Then there had been more alcohol and, dear god, *mistletoe* - and who would have thought that Ronon tasted like blackberries - and *that's* where it got fuzzy. Rodney could remember Carson breaking out the bottle of whiskey he was keeping for a special occasion, and a few of them ending up in Elizabeth's office, although he's not entirely convinced if they really were playing truth or dare at that point or if the mental image he has of Teyla kissing Elizabeth is just some sort of wishful thinking.
Trying to will his hangover into oblivion so he could get up and do some work, Rodney stretched, murmuring an apology when his fingers hit the person next to him in the bed.
He paused.
The person next to him in the bed.
Flexing his fingers slightly he jerked his hand back quickly at the touch of the hard muscles under his fingers.
Oh god.
Either he was in bed with Ronon, one of the marines, or Olga Sirtis from Botany. Whichever way it was, it was someone who had the ability to break him into very small pieces.
"Stop panicking, Rodney, the tension's making my head hurt."
Rodney's head snapped around at the voice. "Colonel?!" He winced at the squeak. Partly at the entire 'squeaking like a girl' thing, and partly because it didn't do his headache any favours.
"Yes, Rodney?" Sheppard's voice was mercifully soft.
"What are you doing in bed with me?"
A leer crossed Sheppard's face. "Don't you remember?"
Rodney quickly flicked through his memories. Party. Music. Whiskey. Truth or Dare. Teyla and Elizabeth (and he really hoped that one wasn't just his imagination). More whiskey. Nowhere in that list was 'hot gay sex with Colonel Sheppard'.
A hand suddenly crept onto his thigh. "Rodney?"
"Stop that!" Rodney was busy trying to trawl through every part of his mind for even a sliver of a memory, and Sheppard's fingertips dancing over his skin were just too damn distracting to let him get on with it.
"You weren't saying that last night when I was sucking your cock," Sheppard said lightly.
Rodney's eyes widened. Oh god, he'd had sex with Sheppard.
"And," Sheppard continued, oblivious to Rodney's horror, "you certainly weren't saying that when you were begging me to fuck you stupid."
Oh god, he'd had sex with Sheppard *when he was too damn drunk to remember it the next morning*. That was why Rodney hated Christmas. One minute, you were drinking down vodka that had been made from the left over potatoes someone found in the kitchen, and the next thing you know, you'd spent the night making like mad minks with the best looking person on base and you were too pissed to remember a bloody thing.
Rodney could have kicked himself. He'd finally got John Sheppard into bed and he didn't even remember it. He covered his face with his hands and moaned.
"Rodney? Are you okay?"
"Yes," he snapped. "As fine as I can be after having finally gotten you in bed, and not remembering a damn thing about it."
Sheppard, John -- he guessed having had even un-remembered sex with the man at least entitled Rodney to call him by his first name -- started to laugh.
"Well, I'm pleased you find it funny!" Rodney moved his hands and glared at John. "At least you *remember* what happened last night."
John leant over, breath soft as it ran over Rodney's cheek. "Since you're the genius here, I shouldn't be the one who needs to point out that, technically, you *still* have me in bed."
The litany of self-recrimination that was running through Rodney's head stopped suddenly. John had a point. "I don't remember what we did last night," he said.
John grinned. "I'll just have to remind you then, won't I."
The last thought Rodney had before John pounced was that he really needed to find out who had figured out it was Christmas and give them a day off.
The End
