Title: The First Time
Fandom:Stargate Atlantis
Pairing, etc: McKay/Sheppard
Prompt: 1. Beginnings
Word Count: around 2100 damn it, this was just supposed to be a drabble
Rating: NC-17
Author's Notes: written for fanfic100 challenge, Beginnings prompt (2 down, 98 to go) I am quite insane and have decided to make all new fics for my challenge and not use any of my already done fics. Spoilers basically for all of Season 1. More angsty than I intended.


The First Time

The first time John realized it was something more than friendship was when Rodney lay so terribly still and silent on the floor in front of the stargate. All that frantic energy gone, evaporated, sucked out of him by the mist. John felt a surge of something – fear and anger and all the shades of emotion in between. It was only later when Rodney was okay, was back to being smug, lips twisted into that crooked little smirk, that John could breathe again. Only then that each inhalation wasn’t an effort. It scared the hell out of him.

The first time Rodney realized it was something more than friendship was when he watched John die. Shirt torn open so Ford could shock him, skin that Rodney never got to touch exposed for him to see. That damn life-sucking bug dropping away to reveal a stretch of tanned throat, discolored with bruises and blood. Then endless seconds, stretching into eternity as Carson tried to revive him. Even after John was back, all gravity-defying hair and whisper-drawl voice, Rodney felt shaken. It scared the hell out of him.

The first time Rodney acted on it was after General Kolya took over the city. He’d thought he was going to die, that they were all going to die, whether by bullet or hurricane didn’t really matter. John had saved them, and when it was all over it didn’t matter that John had avoided Rodney for the last few weeks. That lately John had looked through him instead of at him, even though Rodney felt those eyes on him when John forgot to look away. So at three in the morning he’d knocked on John’s door and pushed his way inside.

John looked like shit, but it didn’t matter when Rodney pressed him against the wall and kissed him. He kissed him like John was the last person he’d ever kiss. His hands tangled in that mess of hair and Rodney kissed him goddamnit. To hell with don’t ask don’t tell and the nagging suspicion that he’d only imagined John felt the same way. He’d kissed him like he could transfer his worry and fear and relief through osmosis, lips to lips.

John had been utterly still, his mouth absolutely immobile under Rodney’s assault. It was that more than anything, more than John’s hands on his shoulders pushing him back, it was that lack of response that made Rodney pull away. Made him mumble an apology and turn tail and run because it turned out his perception was for shit and he’d pretty well just sexually harassed his best friend in two galaxies.

He’d spent the better part of the next week barricaded in his lab, bad attitude around him like a shield, waiting for the inevitable. When the inevitable didn’t happen, when John didn’t beat the shit out of him, or have the talk, or politely suggest that Rodney take a short walk off a tall cliff, Rodney started to breathe again. He started to think that maybe he hadn’t screwed it all to hell and back. He started to think that maybe, just maybe, friendship could be enough because god knew he couldn’t afford to lose John completely. This need to have John in his life no matter what scared the hell out of him.

The first time John acted on it was after Rodney saved him from a ten thousand year old Wraith, Rodney risking his own life to save John. John’s heart was still beating a thousand times a minute as they waited for the other jumper to land. They were inside the ship, looking for any damage, when John noticed just how quiet Rodney was. He had looked lost somehow, like the loss of their teammates was more than an accident, two going home when they’d arrived as four. John’s hand had settled over Rodney’s shoulder and he had squeezed hard enough to hurt, hard enough to make those blue eyes go sharp again. John had tried so hard to resist it, to resist this thing between he and Rodney.

“It’s not your fault Rodney.”

He’d repeated the words until Rodney responded, all the fight gone out of the other man’s voice. “Yes, well I hadn’t considered all the possibilities. I should have thought about the effect of hibernation on the life signs. I should have…”

John had cut him off with a kiss. It wasn’t gentle or particularly smooth, but better somehow for its awkwardness. For the bump of noses and rasp of stubble and sting of pain when his tongue caught the rough edge of Rodney’s teeth. Rodney’s mouth had opened under his so sweetly, letting him in. He’d barely had the presence of mind to step away when they heard Ford outside. His loss of control scared the hell out of him.

The first time John lost it, really lost it, was when Rodney almost died again. And this time it wasn’t the Wraith or the Genii or anything John could stop with a bullet. Rodney was going to die and John wouldn’t even get to see him, trapped in the goddamn gym while Atlantis went to hell and tiny machines destroyed Rodney’s brain.

When it was over and John had broken every rule and pushed Weir way too far. After he’d detonated a fucking nuclear bomb, John lost it again. He’d gone for a run as the city slept, pushed himself too hard and too far until the only thing left was where his next breath would come from. That night he lost it and did what any sane person would do. He decided that this thing, whatever it was, had to stop before it started. That two kisses were the limit, because if two kisses made it hurt like this, made the terror of loss sharper than any knife, he couldn’t let it go any further. It scared the hell out of him.

The first time Rodney lost it, really lost it, was when John started following Chaya around like a lost puppy. It hurt him more than he expected, more than it should after only two kisses followed by weeks of avoidance. It hurt more than John’s sudden cold shoulder, and the way John’s eyes skittered away from his own. It hurt him and it made him mad because John shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up with that kiss. John shouldn’t have made him consider the possibilities of more than friendship.

When it was over and he’d exposed Chaya for the lying slut, make that lying Ancient slut that she was, Rodney lost it again. Jealousy stung, it wrapped around his heart and squeezed tight until he couldn’t breathe for it. He’d lain in bed and laughed the bitter laugh of someone who should have known better, someone who stepped right off the cliff with a smile on his face. It scared the hell out of him.

The first time they said to hell with the consequences the Wraith ships were still three days out. Rodney hadn’t slept in days and John kept forgetting to eat. The end loomed on the horizon, and there wasn’t a damn thing they could do about it. They passed in the hall outside the lab, Rodney’s eyes bright from lack of sleep and too many stimulants, John’s eyes nearly lost in the shadows of dark circles. Rodney has smiled that same tight little smile that he’d been giving John since Chaya and John had acknowledged it with a nod.

It might have ended like that if Rodney hadn’t returned his nod with a sound of contempt. A hastily smothered grunt/snort that made John stop in his tracks. He’d grabbed Rodney before he thought about it, pushing him back against the wall hard enough to hurt. “You got a problem, McKay?”

“Not at all, Major.” And the contempt wasn’t smothered now, it was fairly dripping from every word. “You’re the one shoving people around.”

John had pushed a hand back through his hair and scowled. “Just you Rodney, just you.”

Rodney’s cheeks had flushed deep red, and then John was the one slammed against the wall, Rodney’s hands fisting in that goddamn black t-shirt as he pushed his face in close. “My name is Doctor McKay, not Rodney, not to you. Not anymore.” Then he’d pushed again, hands slapping against John’s chest before he turned away and headed into the lab.

John had stood there for a moment, anger rising in him in waves before following. Rodney was already hunched over his computer, snapping out commands at Zelenka. John had never quite mastered hiding his anger, and it must have been clear on his face when he gestured toward the door. Zelenka obeyed his, “Out, now,” without question, giving him a wide berth as he hurried out.

Rodney was already on his feet when the door slid closed. “Get the hell out of my lab Sheppard. I don’t have time to…”

This time when John kissed him it was more than awkward, it was angry and rough and god help him Rodney just let it pour through him. He opened his mouth and slid his tongue along John’s lips and bit and licked and sucked until it was all out there, everything raw between them. John’s hands were sliding under his shirt, and they were rough too, harsh and callused and yes, just exactly right as fingers pinched his nipples and bruised his skin.

His own hands were on John’s back, burrowing under fabric until it was skin underneath, golden skin that he’d given up any hope of ever touching. Then John’s hands were sliding to his hips and moving him, hustling him backwards until Rodney was pressed into the lab table, the metal a hard pressure against the back of his thighs. And John was right there, pressing into him, grinding into him, his cock hard and heavy against Rodney’s.

Kissing still, taste of blood, and Rodney didn’t know if it was his or John’s, just that teeth had nipped too hard and still they pressed together. Eating at each others lips, all tongue and teeth and wet moans until Rodney couldn’t breath anymore. And who the hell cared if he never drew another breath because this was the kiss that he’d been dreaming about, full of heat and fury and simultaneously the best and worst thing he’d ever felt. Then John was pulling back, his lips sliding down to Rodney’s throat, rough again, teeth scraping along his neck until Rodney was arching into it. His hands in John’s hair, urging him on.

And John was finally close enough to Rodney, close enough to taste him and smell him and to thrust against him. His hands trembled as he worked at Rodney’s pants, worked until he had those khakis pushed down far enough to wrap his hand around Rodney’s cock. And hell, he was the one moaning as he stroked a hand along the length of it, because the feel of Rodney against his palm, the feel of Rodney bucking up against him was even better than he’d imagined.

Rodney’s hands in his hair tightened and Rodney was pleading with him, or pleading with himself, “Not yet, not yet. Oh god, not yet.” Even as John’s hand picked up speed, palm and fingers tight around Rodney, stroke and slide and twist of wrist, until Rodney lost his words and could only gasp. Crying out as he came in a hot rush into John’s hand.

John’s hand didn’t slow, because goddamn the only thing better than stroking Rodney’s cock dry was stroking him wet, sticky and hot and flesh still trembling with each move of John’s hand along the length. His own cock grinding into Rodney’s thigh now, pressing against his pants until the fabric was wet with his own pre-come. Rodney pulling John’s head up, pulling him away from his neck until they could kiss again. Sweet this time, Rodney’s lips sliding along his softly, sweet stroke of tongue as Rodney kissed him. It was enough, more than enough, and John came in his pants for the first time in more than twenty years, hot rush of relief wringing a groan from him.

It was later, when they had finally broken apart, smell of sex still heavy in the air, that John said it for the first time. Said the words to someone other than his mother for the first time ever. It was a cliché, and he knew it, first time sex and first time declarations, but with the Wraith closing in he figured this first time might be the last. It scared the hell out of them.

THE END







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Tags: fanfic100, mckay/sheppard, sga slash, the first time