The two figures that stumble through the gate backwards, shooting determinedly through the event horizon, look like they just completed one of the longer runs of their lives.
"The iris!" Mckay shouts, not looking away.
In the seconds before the iris appears with its anticlimactic faint shimmer something feral and growling leaps through the gate, it resembles a pit bull drenched in slime. They both let out a handful of shots before the thing falls to the ground. The glow of the event horizon gives the dog like creature a ghostly sheen. It's still twitching painfully when Mckay's knife lands somewhere between its head and it's body. The dog stops, the wormhole closes and the two slump in momentary relaxation.
"Colonel Sheppard, what happened?" Elizabeth has already called for a medical team, but there is a slow look of horror dawning on her face as she takes in the sight of only half of Atlantis's flagship team, bent over, panting heavily.
Sheppard throws Mckay a puzzled look before taking a slow turn around the gateroom. "Uh Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."
Mckay is already nodding steadily. "Yes, I had figured that out, *Colonel*." He steps in front of Sheppard and looks Elizabeth steadily in the eye. "Don't move."
Elizabeth stops between one step and another, taking in her friends carefully. "What's the matter Rodney?" She frowns, worry already taking a second place to another, as yet, unidentified emotion.
Mckay is standing tall, shoulder's back, eyes alert and deadly, he's thinner, yet he feels larger, it's hard to tell much under all his gear, but his face tells enough. His chin is pointier for the lack fat and his eyes older. Beyond and to the left of his slightly graying temple, Sheppard stares back at her.
Unlike Mckay, Sheppard's face shows a bit more softness and he sports nearly invisible frames perched carefully on his nose. The only other thing that strikes her as odd is that Sheppard looks comfortable behind Mckay. She takes an involuntary step towards them, wanting to take in more.
The gun is out before she can even blink. "Well," Mckay's voice is steady and his aim is perfect, the hand wrapped around his pistol looks comfortable and loose, "as much as I'd like to trust you Elizabeth, experience dictates that the odds are not in my favor that Beckett isn't going to appear with some sort of goatee."
Sheppard looks around wide eyed, "I'd read the reports, but this is unreal." He eyes someone off in the background, "The math alone…." He trails off with a whistle.
"Rodney," Elizabeth begins, her voice low and steady, "put the gun down." Despite the earlier command, she continues to move down the stairs, not actually having stopped.
"Who's hurt?" Beckett's breathless voice interrupts the tense silence. He stops short of the tableau presented. "And why is Rodney holding a gun on us?" He takes another step forward. "And is the Colonel wearing glasses?"
The simultaneous squinting is practically audible as everyone focuses in on them, Mckay rolls his eyes in disdain and Sheppard does a little runway turn.
"You're injured." Beckett is pointing to the long, bloody tear on Sheppard's jacket.
Mckay's arm lowers slightly as he appraises the injury. "Where'd you get that? What happened to all those lessons on learning how to duck?"
Sheppard's eyes roll and he's about to answer when he's interrupted by the overhead speaker. "INCOMING WORMHOLE!"
Mckay and Sheppard hurry off to the side with a quick few steps, not looking at all surprised when two marines shift directions to keep their weapons trained on them, even as the rest of the armed military personnel stay aimed at the stargate.
There's a brief confirmation of IDC before the iris is lowered and four people stroll casually down the ramp. "You know, Elizabeth, if they're all like that, the new kids aren't going to believe all those stories we've been telling them over the campfires." Colonel John Sheppard waves off the guns with a sloppy salute and an easy smile.
"Colonel Sheppard." Elizabeth's voice has slipped from calm to tense, conveying a large amount of information in her clipped greeting, "we have guests." She points them to the other Sheppard and Mckay, the two who, to anyone who cared to look, stick out like sore thumbs.
Their Mckay inches towards them, scientific curiosity obviously outweighing the fears for his own personal safety. "'That's amazing," he looks them over with a clinical eye, "alternate universe?" He asks the other Mckay.
The Other Sheppard, the one standing behind the Other Mckay, nods. "Has to be. Unless you know of another phenomenon that could explain this."
Other Mckay grumbles, re-holstering his weapon. "It was probably the goddamned altar. With the writing and the blinking and the flashing of lights," he turns an accusatory look at Other Sheppard. "Next time you ask for five more minutes, I'm saying no."
"But there was a power source!" Other Sheppard argues.
"Yes and once again I risk my life so we can check out the local neighborhood five and dime."
Other Sheppard gives him a sour look. "Do you LIKE taking lukewarm showers? Because that's what the power distribution curve is gonna look like come next Christmas."
There's that audible blink again, and Other Sheppard and Other Mckay stop abruptly, realizing they've forgotten they aren't necessarily among friends.
Mckay gives them both an analytical look before thrusting out his hand, "Dr. Rodney Mckay, PhD Astrophysics and Applied Math."
Other Mckay shakes the hand awkwardly, not saying anything but looking at Sheppard pointedly.
Sheppard rolls his shoulders, still looking slightly bewildered. "Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, Pilot, ancient technology skeleton key and an M.S. in something I'm not admitting to until Mckay hacks the records." He proffers a hand.
Other Sheppard shakes it firmly, "Dr. John Sheppard, M.S. in Electrical Engineering and PhD in Applied Mathematics, also ancient technology skeleton key and occasional pilot."
There's another stilted silence before Other Sheppard nudges Other Mckay, "Come on Colonel, they can't be *all* bad, I mean, look at his hair."
"Colonel?" Rodney's shocked voice calls out. "Colonel??" He casts a betrayed look at the Other Mckay.
Other Mckay just sighs wearily. "Yes, Colonel Rodney Mckay, Royal Canadian Air Force, PhD in Astrophysics and Applied Mathematics."
"And all around pain in my ass." Other Sheppard adds for good measure.
Colonel Mckay casts Other Sheppard a dry look. "You seriously shouldn't talk 'Mr. Artificial Wind Tunnel on the southern pier."
Colonel Sheppard's eyes light up. "You mean that would work?"
Mckay stops his open mouthed gaping long enough to glare at him and say, "NO, no it wouldn't." Before returning his accusing stare to his counterpart. "I can't *believe* you took their offer!"
Sheppard nods in Other Sheppard's direction, "I can't believe you didn't." He looks at Other Sheppard curiously.
"I did." Other Sheppard ducks his head, "I just didn't stay."
"As for me," Other Mckay interjects, "it was that or whore my way through school, it wasn't an all that appealing prospect."
"What happened to the scholarship?" Mckay demands.
"Up in smoke around the time my father was brought up on charges." Other Mckay says stiffly.
Mckay turns pasty white and clamps his mouth shut with an audible snap. He doesn't ask any more questions but his eyes say he doesn't need to.
Elizabeth clears her throat softly and all four men's head snap to her. "I think there's a lot to discuss--"
"And not a lot of time." Both Mckays add and then glare at each other.
Elizabeth can't help but smile. "Yes, I've read the reports too, let's get you two to the infirmary and then someplace quiet to debrief?"
***
Mckay nearly drums his fingers through the briefing room table waiting for everyone to arrive. He's staring at his laptop screen, not really doing anything important, a half finished FreeCell game waits in the background underneath some half finished notes about some ancient artifact that may just be a very pretty paperweight.
Sheppard joins him after a while, sitting next to him, deeply contemplative. He sighs heavily and braces his elbows on the table, and stares off into space.
"Aerodynamics." Mckay says after the silence begins to eat away at him.
"Excuse me?" Sheppard looks at him, eyebrows raised.
"Your degree." Mckay clarifies.
Sheppard stares at him long and hard before slumping again and nodding slightly.
Mckay can't take the silence and he can't sort it all out in his own brain so he shoves the laptop away and turns to face Sheppard. "Funnily enough, I can see you as an academic, but me…" He shudders involuntarily as his brain lists the multitude of things that can go wrong in a career military life. Plus there's something to be said for not liking being told what to do by people stupider than himself. Which, from all accounts, would be just about everyone.
"You'd be good at it." Sheppard levels laser beam eyes at him and Mckay can practically feel the heat as they seer through him, taking him apart tactically. "Half the battle is understanding how it all works, you've always been good at that."
Mckay snorts. "And I just ooze heroism and self sacrifice, don't I?"
"Sorta." Sheppard gives him a lopsided grin. "In your own special way."
Snorting again, Mckay shakes his head in disbelief. "It's fascinating how one thing can change your entire life, I mean, we all know that and I think probably some of us are aware of the insipient chaos theory that follows us around like demented puppy dogs, but to be so blatantly hit in the face with it is… is…"
"Weird." Sheppard finishes for him.
"Yeah."
"Yeah well it feels the same over here buddy." Other Sheppard is standing at the edge of the doorway. He walks lazily in and hops up on the table, sitting comfortably, looking for all the world like he's done that a million times before. "What I can't figure out is how you managed to stay *in* the air force. Let alone make it to Lt. Colonel."
"I ask myself that all the time." Mckay mutters.
Sheppard leans back casually in his seat and despite his sprawl, looks tense. "Maybe I'm really good at what I do."
Other Sheppard looks at him askance before his eyes narrow imperceptibly and he tilts his head curiously. "Wait, maybe they don't--" his eyes dart to Mckay, "--have the same regs here."
The conversation is going over Mckay's head and he's pretty sure it was meant to, he frowns as the last comment makes his Sheppard sit up straight, spine stiff. "What are you talking about?"
"Captain Bagman." Other Sheppard's voice is clipped and low. He hugs his knees loosely which does nothing to mitigate his knowing stare.
Mckay is surprised that the chair Sheppard vacates isn't ripped from the floor from the amount of force he uses and the speed at which accomplishes it. He watches the door to the balcony close behind him before turning back to Other Sheppard, who just shrugs indifferently.
"I see you're still a world class charmer." Mckay says, eyes glancing back to the shadow still visible through the glass walls.
"Well some things are universal."
A snort from the doorway startles them both and they both turn their heads to see Other Mckay walking into the room and take a seat behind and next to Other Sheppard, who is still sitting on the table.
His sidearm is still on him and Mckay can't find it in him to worry about it all that much, after all, it *is* him and the most aggressive thing he's done so far is protect his scientist. That's the sort of behavior he can get behind.
Elizabeth and Zelenka follow him in by only seconds, taking their seats, Sheppard appears from the balcony, stonily silent, he resumes his seat next to Mckay.
"I hope you don't mind that I've asked Dr. Zelenka to join us," Elizabeth begins, "because despite the fact that it's obvious you are all very different people, you're also all still very much the same and I wanted to have someone here who understands the concepts but might be able to give a fresh perspective."
Mckay and Sheppard nod in agreement.
Other Mckay nods too, but Other Sheppard gives a lop sided grin and a quick wave before greeting the other man with a "Hey Radek."
The use of his name obviously startles him, but he grins back and takes it in stride.
The how's and why's of their current situation become clear fairly easily, find ancient artifact, find power source, fiddle, flash of light, big ugly slimy dogs followed by running without time to analyze.
"Great." Mckay sighs. "I predict a harrowing adventure in my future."
Zelenka breaks his thoughtful gaze and turns to Other Sheppard. "You have scans of artifact? Perhaps we can figure it before you go back, so there is less time to worry about being eaten by large dogs and then Rodney will have less to complain about later."
Mckay makes a note to assign Zelenka to something involving a garbage chute.
Other Sheppard meanwhile is nodding enthusiastically. "Scans and tape."
It's a momentary pause as they connect everything to Mckay's laptop, they all take a moment to breath a sigh of relief at compatible technology. The video on the screen shows a busy market place full of friendly looking people before the camera sweeps down to take a careful pan of the altar in question. Mckay pauses the image over a clear shot of what looks like a control panel and switches over to the scanner's readings.
Other Sheppard leans over him, one hand braced casually on his shoulder and the contact startles for its unusualness. He doesn't dwell on it long however, because Other Sheppard is pointing at the screen, explaining exactly what he did.
There's a lot of muttering and speculating several sentences uttered that the same time followed by glares, but eventually it's Zelenka who speaks up with a firm theory.
"Considering how little hand waving you actually did, I think perhaps this machine was meant to do what it did, and assuming that the altar in *this* reality needed power in order for it to work, it would probably be a simple matter to reverse the process."
They all look at him with incredulous eyes.
He shrugs. "What, they built Atlantis, you think they've never heard of an on/off switch?"
They work for a long time, working out several variations of control movements, and panel configurations eventually Other Mckay breaks off and joins Sheppard looking out the window, only keeping half an ear on the conversation.
"I've drawn up a basic layout of the area between the stargate and the altar." Other Mckay's voice is quiet, so as not to disturb the other meeting still going on. "Now, I *could* make suggestions on personnel, ordinance and the like based on my universe, but I thought that might not be the brightest idea."
Sheppard continues to stare at the shoreline, mouth a hard line, shoulders tense. "How many of those dog things did you run into?"
Other Mckay leans heavily on the railing. "Those? Not more than one or two, it's the things with wings and talons I'm more worried about."
The railing is damp beneath Sheppard's sweaty palms, making it slick and warm. He takes a deep breath and makes a concerted effort to loosen his whitening knuckles. Turning, he faces the Other Mckay, mildly disconcerted by the distorted mirror image. "I'm assuming this altar isn't too far away."
"Smack in the middle of what *was* the county fair."
Sheppard nods, before moving back to the table. "Come on, let's get a look at that map."
Strategizing is unusually easy, it seems Sheppard works well with this Mckay too and it's not long before they fall into a routine of half completed sentences and ideas that feels eerily familiar, except there's a lot more mention of explosions. The kind that happen on purpose, as opposed to the kind Mckay usually screams and yells about not wanting to happen at all.
Once the discussion turns to more outlandish ideas and theoretical tactics based on personnel and technology they don't have, Other Mckay turns to him with a critical eye after he calculates the initial vector they'd need for a tactical nuke strike and says, "You really like math."
Sheppard blinks. "I'm good at it, yeah."
Shaking his head sharply Mckay pushes the laptop away from Sheppard's distracted fingers. "No, I mean, you really like it."
"You mean *he* really likes it." Sheppard sends a sharp nod across the room to where the scientists are hard at work. To where Other Sheppard is smiling lightly and shaking his head, correcting something on the screen.
"You're not that different." Mckay argues, clamping a hand on Sheppard's forearm, stopping him from moving. "You've just spent twenty years or so in another career."
Sheppard wraps his fingers around Other Mckay's wrist and presses hard until the hand releases. "Funny, I spent the last twenty years dodging bullets only to find out I'm a coward." The words are hissed and his fingers continue to dig into the other man's hand but Other Mckay doesn't back down, he just stares unblinking until Sheppard has to turn away.
He's up and out of the door before anyone can say anything else.
***
Mckay watches Sheppard leave, thinking that maybe the doors slide shut just a tiny bit faster. He glances at Other Mckay but only sees a look of consternation and he offers no explanations.
"I think, perhaps, we are done." Zelenka pronounces, he gives Other Sheppard a wide smile, "I thought you would be a pleasure to work with."
Other Sheppard leans back in his seat lazily. "I usually am, it's the southern charm."
"You're from San Francisco." Both Mckays grouse.
"That's south." Sheppard gives them an innocent blink.
"Gentlemen?" Elizabeth peeks her head in, she escaped sometime down the road when they had started arguing about ancient wiring predilections. "I just saw Colonel Sheppard leave, are you done?"
Mckay nods. "We've done just about all that we can here."
"Well then I've arranged quarters for our guests, perhaps you'd like to show them were to the mess and then to rooms D35 and D36?"
"What am I a tour guide?"
"Rodney," Elizabeth begins in her best school marm voice, "Things might be organized a little bit different around here, besides, this is my unsubtle way of getting you to interrogate them about their own technological advances."
Mckay's eyes widen at the implications of what information may or may not be floating in the ether just waiting for him to soak up, he stands up abruptly motioning for them to follow him. "Yes yes, this way, you must be hungry, speaking of food, have you found a planet that grows coffee?"
Other Sheppard laughs merrily. "Coffee no, but tea has been found."
Pondering the information carefully, Mckay nods. "That could work."
Entering the mess hall deep inside a conversation of alternate realities versus alternate timelines it takes Mckay a while to realize the room is unnaturally quiet. Oh right, two of him. Considering that one of him is mildly daunting, there should be a few people battling with incontinence in the corner.
Other Mckay is already across the room and taking a seat, ah, two Sheppards as well. He makes a note to put an ear to the base grapevine at some point.
Sheppard looks at them obviously considering getting up and leaving, but Other Mckay sits opposite him and starts asking him about the Genii. The conversation turns jovial as they trade 'How I tricked Koyla and subsequently kicked his ass' stories.
Soon Other Mckay has them all laughing. Sheppard has to wipe his eyes and catch his breath before he can speak. "You really made all of his clothes dissolve?"
Other Mckay is laughing just as hard. "Well, not ALL, there wasn't enough to get through all of that material, it's those thick natural fibers, takes a lot to eat through all that." He takes a long sip of his drink before darkening slightly. "Of course, that's when I shot him."
Sheppard swallows thickly. "You shot him on Dagan?"
"In the leg!" Other Mckay justifies, of course his indignant face turns utterly innocent as he adds, "of course, I'm fairly sure I shattered the thigh bone."
"Hey," Other Sheppard says through a bite of his sandwich. "He was defending my honor and my honor is worth at LEAST a thigh bone."
Both Mckay's snort.
Other Sheppard leans close and stage whispers to Sheppard, "I think they're insulting us."
"I think you're right."
"Oh we're definitely insulting you." Other Mckay clarifies before turning to Mckay. "Is your Sheppard the intergalactic porn star mine is?"
Other Sheppard looks insulted. "Hey, there was no other way to get that key!"
"Did you think maybe of knocking her out?" Other Mckay suggests with the air of having had this argument before.
"What's the fun in that? Picking the pockets of someone unconscious?"
Pushing his tray away, Sheppard shrugs, "He's got a point."
Mckay leans back and crosses his arms. "Oh I can't wait to hear what part of your obviously delinquent youth these skills come from."
"Basic training." Both Sheppards answer. His Sheppard looks vaguely startled.
Mckay looks at them confused. "There's some sort of weird fraternal style prank set here that I'm missing."
"Yes." All three of them answer looking for all the world like innocent teenagers.
"Oooohkay then, subject change before I die of testosterone overload." Mckay turns to Other Sheppard, "Where did you get your PhD?"
"M.I.T."
Mckay narrows his eyes and does some quick math before looking at both of them startled. "*I* was your thesis advisor?"
"You also brought me into the project." Other Sheppard winks at Other Mckay. "Seriously have I ever thanked you for that? The mortal peril is really good for the indigestion."
Sheppard looks at them funny, brows furrowing. "Funny, I just sat in the chair," he says quietly.
Mckay steals the remaining chips on Sheppard's plate. "Yes, and scared the crap out of all of us at the same time."
Their food is long finished, but the conversation continues on, until the last of the dinner rush leaves. Other Mckay watches the solitary scientist leave before turning back to their little coffee klatch and saying, "So do we compare the parts of our pasts that really matter now? Or wait till none of us can sleep later?"
Mckay can feel Sheppard tense beside him and has enough sense to know that it's his permission they're waiting for. Finally he sighs. "I've got some Athosian moonshine in my room."
Standing up, Mckay pops a few stubborn vertebrae and starts walking to the door. "Ok first important question, what was your GPA?" Both Sheppards shake their heads in amusement.
Sheppard has actually managed to acquire an extra chair or two over the course of his stay on Atlantis. Mostly because he likes to think he's a social creature, but more and more the extra furniture has been used for work purposes. For the most part, late night sessions involving worst case scenarios and a secret stash of granola bars.
Other Sheppard and Other Mckay take the bed, sitting comfortably beside each other, the divvy up the pillows and wait for Sheppard and Mckay to take a seat.
Sheppard spins his chair around and sits down, leaning his elbows on the back and observes their other selves.
The moonshine is passed out and Sheppard is surprised he actually has four things that almost resemble cups, it's been better since the Deadelus arrived, but his collection predates that. Though, he's fairly sure his own container is a used Listerine cap.
The black market is such a kooky place.
Other Sheppard takes a long pull from his own cup before giving him the hairy eyeball. "So, we actually gonna do this, or am I gonna have to brush up on my metaphor and one word sentences?"
He returns the eyeball with one of his own and takes his own sip of moonshine before answering. The alcohol is still burning his nose hairs as he opens his mouth. "I'm sure I can trust Mckay to curb his big mouth."
Mckay makes an indignant sound. "You know Colonel, I'm sure there are some things that I'd rather remained private as well, but you don't see me insulting *you* and your inability to take anything seriously." Mckay's knuckles are white as he grips his own glass.
Sheppard ignores Mckay and finishes his drink and sets the cup down. "So, Captain Bagman?" His voice wavers just a little, he blames the alcohol.
"We didn't get caught, if that's what you're wondering." Other Sheppard has finished his own drink as well.
"But you could have been." Sheppard doesn't have to ask, he already knows.
Other Sheppard nods. "It was actually less about the sex and more about the math."
He hears Mckay choke on his drink. Ignoring the coughing, he sends a puzzled look. "The math?"
"It's all linked, at least then it was." Other Sheppard takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. "I didn't feel free to... express... myself in the environment the Air force provided. Oh I know there are ample opportunities, lookit Rodney or Sam Carter, and if that had been it," he shrugs, "I dunno, I might have done it from the inside."
"But David…" Sheppard prompts and Mckay chokes again, but he plows on knowing Mckay is more surprised than anything else, "David wouldn't let it go."
Other Sheppard nods. "He, I'm assuming it's this particular argument where everything goes astray, in one universe he won and in another… he lost."
"We never had an argument," Sheppard's voice is hoarse as he reveals what he thinks happened, "there were all the steps leading up to one, I knew something was coming, but a drunk driver took care of my problem for me." He waves his hands inarticulately; ashamed at how the words tumble out. "No David, no temptation. The end."
"Dad pitched a fit." Other Sheppard mutters. "That part was kinda fun." He winks.
Other Mckay snickers quietly. "I am so glad you didn't inherit that man's propensity for sheer drama."
"That only started because you aimed a gun at him."
"Can't help it if I don't like being called names. It has an adverse affect on my psyche."
Sheppard listens to them bicker happily and looks deeply into his empty cup, contemplating how much happier it might make him if it was full. Though, he does admit that the thought of his dad turning bright red in anger and then being told, point blank, as it were, he really couldn't do all that much about it, was appealing.
Other Mckay makes a show of buffing his nails. "Wasn't that hard to get him a scholarship either, so any and all threats about inheritances and lack there of, were moot."
Sheppard smiles brightly. "Bet he loved that."
"Like a heart attack."
He could get to like this Other Mckay. Plus he has this niggling sensation that together, they could blow things up that his mother only dreamed of.
It takes a few moments for both Sheppard's chuckling to die down, he's peripherally aware that both Mckays are making their own amused sounds and he's struck by camaraderie. Funny, he always thought that if he'd ever have to spend any time with himself, there'd be a weird suicide/homicide debate to clear up later.
"So, that's it." Other Sheppard says with an expressive wave of his hands. "Can't think of anything else to tell you, you got any questions?"
"Are you happy?" The words are heavy in his mouth, thick and bitter.
The slow smile that spreads across Other Sheppard's face ends in something practically incandescent. Sheppard almost misses the quick dart of eyes to Other Mckay and something starts deep in his chest as he meets his double's eyes. Adrenaline pumps through his veins even as Other Sheppard nods slightly.
"I'm exploring another galaxy, flying alien spaceships, and occasionally risking life and limb for a couple billion people I've never met before." Other Sheppard shrugs. "What's not to like?"
The words are flippant and say absolutely nothing, the meaningful part of the conversation had been before he'd even spoken. Good god, they'd sat on the bed like-- handed off pillows like it was nothing. He sees them hand each other things without a thought, and the hand off, smooth as silk.
Jesus Christ. The words stick in his throat and the idea swirls around in his brain, circling a clogged train, not quite running through. Though he is mildly disturbed by the one thought that sounds like a high pitched Mckay voice screaming, 'You slept with your advisor?!! That's academic suicide! Not to mentions unbelievably stupid and I always thought I was smarter than that.'
Other Sheppard watches him with knowing eyes but doesn't say anything and Sheppard watches Other Mckay step up and direct a question to his double, neatly taking the focus from them. There it was again, silk.
***
Oh my god. Ohmygod. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.
He was sleeping with Captain Freaking KIRK!
And from the slight smirk on his double's face, Mckay has no doubt that it's probably the best fucking of his life. And that's for a man with the muscle and the manly scars that probably make woman faint into his arms.
He's completely ignoring the fact that another him is sleeping with someone whose hair has probably achieved sentience and gotten its own piece of ass. He shakes his head roughly, realizing that Other Mckay is asking him a question. "I'm sorry, what?"
Other Mckay smiles at him indulgently, like he knows exactly what's going on in his mind. Arrogant prick. At least he's handsome.
"I said, please tell me you've already figured out where we diverged, otherwise I'm going to have to conclude that I come from the superior set of genes and that you are only a pale copy."
"What?" Mckay asks startled for a moment before his brain starts spitting out the conclusion he'd reached sometime during their planning session. "Yes yes, father a big asshole, but in your universe I'm assuming he got caught with his hand in the underage assistant's cookie jar, got kicked, despite tenure and my original plans for attending the best University in Canada got burned into a pathetic pile of ashes. The timing of which, if I remember correctly would put me too late to arrange something for the current semester and I'm also assuming you were too disgusted with him for fucking up *your* life that the thought of waiting around for the next chance was too mind bogglingly nauseating that the thought of working for the air force actually looked appealing." He paused to take a breath. "That about cover it?"
"There are some details here and there that you skipped, but you've got the basic idea." Other Mckay salutes him with his cup.
There's an awkward silence and Mckay is mildly annoyed that the doubles don't ask them any questions about their own lives, but he supposes that by sussing out the differences, they can come to their own conclusions. And hey, at least one of him looks like he's getting laid on a regular basis.
Eventually he says the only thing his perverted little mind can think of. "So, Canadian military huh? How's that working out for you?"
"A lot better than the American Military is working out for him," Other Mckay points at Sheppard who still looks stunned and bleak, "I'd wager."
"Better rules?"
"Better rules."
The self satisfied smirk on Other Mckay's face is enough to make Mckay want to cry. He turns to Colonel Sheppard and smacks him on the arm. "Damn you! I could have been getting laid all this time!"
Sheppard sputters. "E-excuse me?!?"
"Do you know how much easier it is being brilliant when you've had sex? There's all this extra tension gone! I probably could have solved our power problems by now if you hadn't been so selfish!"
There's a snort of laughter coming from the bed as Other Sheppard falls over convulsing. Other Mckay doesn't look like he's all that far behind, but he manages to choke out a few words. "You inconsiderate ass, probably holding out because he has some hero complex and is afraid to let Mckay have any of the glory."
Other Sheppard wipes tears from his eyes and nods. "Seriously, share the wealth, you're fucking *brilliant* after you've had sex. It's like orgasm is the anti-kryptonite."
"Hey!" Other Mckay balks. "If you're brilliant, I'm a genius."
"Yeah sure, once you regain the power of speech."
"Oh you are not *that* good." Other Mckay protests.
"I am too." Sheppard squeaks.
They turn to him and find him still sputtering and stunned, but turning a nice shade of red.
"Well," Other Mckay considers, "maybe, you *have* been under my expert tutelage."
Mckay throws his hands up in despair. "Ok, stop speaking now, because all I'm getting is a big porny slide show complete with prime numbers. And if I'm not going to get laid anytime soon, let's not ratchet up the tension any higher than it has to be. After all, we're probably about twelve hours away from another crisis and I can't possibly expect to be brilliant if the pornographic movie in my head keeps distracting me. I mean, I'd take all my time trying to explain to Elizabeth why I refuse to move from behind the control panel. And while I'm standing there trying not to utterly humiliate myself some planet, with the very import mineral/technology/foodstuff, blows up."
Sheppard shrugs. "You could always blame Kavanaugh."
Mckay stops mid rant and thinks. "That could work."
"Wait." Sheppard frowns, brow furrowing. "There's already tension?"
Rolling his eyes, Mckay sighs. "You seriously think we argue this much because we like it?"
"Well… yeah."
Right, because, he really did like it, a lot. That was the point. "Ok fine, we like it. A lot. I just figured you were really, really repressed. And hey, I was right. Five points to me."
The Others are sharing a look, actually, they're sharing a whole conversation with their eyes. That's when the dawning realization hits Mckay with the sort of horror the new Skeptical Inquirer usually inspires. Shit, they weren't just sleeping together. They're in fucking love.
How utterly appalling. His only hope is that it happened sometime *after* Other Mckay recruited Other Sheppard for the project. Otherwise there was some universe out there hoping to save the galaxy with a couple of fifth graders at the wheel.
***
Mckay is still in Sheppard's room when he returns from escorting the doubles to their *one* room. He's still a little stunned and the extra presence stops him in the doorway.
"What, were you raised in a barn, you're letting all the alcohol fumes out." Mckay is lounging in his bed, propped up on his side, his head leaning on a fist, looking serene.
Wordlessly he steps inside, the door shutting silently behind him. Sheppard's hands itch at his sides, the palms sweaty and cold. "Jesus Mckay, you have your own room."
"And as the universe has so happily pointed out to me, I could be having a whole helluva lot more fun if I wasn't in it so much." Mckay pauses and frowns, considering. "Ok, I don't spend *a lot* of time there, but there's a good section of four to six hours every night that are pretty boring."
Sheppard's legs give out from under him just as he reaches the chair. "Jesus Mckay." He breathes out. "Not one for the subtle."
Mckay quirks a happy eyebrow. "As flattering as that is, save the god like references for during and after. Before just makes it sound like you're trying to get into my pants."
He can't seem to do anything more than run a shaky hand through his hair and shake his head in bewilderment. "Jesus."
Swinging his legs off the bed, Mckay sits up, elbows on knees, it puts him directly opposite Sheppard, and only a foot or so away. "This isn't all that hard to comprehend, and I'm afraid if you make me break it down into steps, it'll completely ruin the mood. There's nothing quite like a vivid explanation of fluid exchange to turn me off." His hand slides gently onto Sheppard's forearm, his thumb rubbing slow circles.
Sheppard's jacket, which is heavy enough for 70% of most unpredictable weather, suddenly feels paper thin and he imagines he can feel every ridge and valley of that thumb print as it burns into his skin. He watches, dazed as the thumb, followed closely by the hand starts a slow skim upward. It reaches the hollow of his elbow and something warm and electric runs through him. He jerks back heavily, breathing hard. "Jesus." He whispers, panting.
Mckay eyes him with wide, surprised eyes. His pupils are dark and glittering and really too distracting, Sheppard has to close his own and look away.
"You're kidding me." Mckay's voice, lacking most of it's normal bite, sounds very surprised. "You didn't-- you repressed it all?" The hand is back, but this time it's stationary. "You don't do halfway, do you Colonel?" There's a snort of laughter and Sheppard risks opening his eyes only to meet the understanding, if somewhat incredulous ones of Mckay. "Well, I was wrong."
He still hasn't found any more words than 'Jesus' so he opts for a questioning eyebrow raise.
"You *do* have more self control than a teenager with cable."
Sheppard snorts, "What, no Captain Kirk reference?"
"Well, unless he and Mr. Spock had something going on that the writers aren't telling us, it didn't feel as appropriate." Mckay winks and risks a careful caress, his fingers leaving hot trails on Sheppard's arm.
A small shudder reaches through his body and Sheppard has to close his eyes again. He hasn't allowed this, ever, and there's a slippery slope looming on the horizon that he's not ready for. That he may never be ready for, not after this long. He closes his hand over Rodney's fingers and stops their movement, squeezing them carefully. "I-- I can't Rodney."
Rodney shifts their hands around until their palms are touching and their fingers lace. "Can't what? Walk and chew gum at the same time? Stand the thought of touching me? Figure out what sort of life form your hair is? Feel that you can't overthrow a lifetime of conditioning so that you can finally have really good sex and possibly be happy and get rid of that semi permanent brood, instead of playing the misfit who just skirts the edge of being thrown out, but not quite so he always has an excuse not to think about it?"
Sheppard stares at their intertwined fingers, the image seems disconnected, he squeezes his fingers, surprised when he actually feels the soft skin beneath them. "All of it?"
He feels an upward tug as Mckay stands, not releasing his hand. It's either stand or stare at the other man's crotch. He stands, their hands still clasped, dangle gently beside them.
"You haven't figured out what sort of life form your hair is?"
"I think its one of those big walking red things with the sneakers from Looney Toons cartoons."
Mckay snorts, the puff of air warm on Sheppard's skin-- and when did they get close enough for him to feel that? There's a hand on his cheek, fingers carefully tracing the bone, finding their way to his chin, following the curve up to his ear before carefully cupping his face.
Sheppard leans into the caress, the hand feels better than anything he's had in a long time. It's soft and rough and just strong enough to pull him forward. The feel of lips millimeter from his own is maddening, but Mckay stops and hovers, ghosting around but never landing until finally Sheppard makes a small sound in the back of his throat and closes the miniscule of gaps until their lips lay flush against each other.
The kiss is sweet and warm and ten kinds of right. That tight spark of energy, the one that never left after Mckay first touched him, grows out of control until his entire body shakes with pent up sensation. He growls into the kiss, turning what was soft, into fierce. The grip he has on Mckay's hand tightens almost painfully and his free hand digs into Mckay's shirt, tugging him close with frightening intensity.
Mckay's grip shifts and it becomes clear, that while he's still, for the most part, directing the kiss, he's also holding on for dear life. The hand on his cheek tightens and guides his head, tilts it ever so slightly and-- ohdeargodwhatthefuckwashethinkingignoringthis?
The slippery slope is so very far behind him it's practically a distant memory, now he's just falling, completely out of control, air whipping around him, roaring in his ears. There's a hand sliding down his back , fingers splaying just above his waist and holding him steady and flush against Mckay.
Warm. Hot and on fire, he's dizzy and scared out of his mind and something must have happened because Mckay is stopping and the lips are moving away and, when did he sit down on the bed?
"Are you going to faint? Because I think it's within my rights to make fun of you for at least a week if you do." Mckay runs a hand down his wrist, stopping just under the palm. The movement gets a little shiver until he realizes Mckay is taking his pulse. "Normally, I'd go for more, but I do hope to eventually get sex out of this."
The blacks spots that are roaming around in front of his eyes are making him dizzy. "I did not faint."
"I'm sure that's what you'll tell the grandkids."
"Grandkids?!?" He tries to stand up indignantly, but fails and only manages to slide back down in a semi-manly sort of way. "Wait! Sex?!!?" He wipes a hand down his face. "Jesus, Rodney, stop."
Mckay rolls his eyes. "Again with the deities." He sits down next to Sheppard, patting his thigh in a condescending manner. "No sex tonight, you're obviously too distraught over the thought of having to compare to me." He starts taking off his jacket and toeing off his shoes.
Sheppard's heart does a flip flop. "I thought no sex?!"
"Sleep." The look on Mckay's face clearly adds a 'You moron.'
"Oh." Sheppard doesn't move even as Mckay helps him out of his own shoes and jacket. Gentle hands stand him up long enough to pull the blanket down. Mckay settles in behind him, his body molding neatly into his own. The arm that snakes over his chest takes him by surprise, but he doesn't fight it as it lines up with his own and links their fingers.
"I expect really good sex," Mckay whispers in his ear. "Since I'm stuck in the position that'll leave my arm asleep."
Oddly enough, despite the ever present threat of sex-- and good lord, he really needs to revaluate some things if *sex* has become a threat; the warm press of another body behind him only helps to relax into the bed. Mckay's breathing evens out with disquieting ease into a sort of soft hiss-huff which is oddly lulling considering he'd always thought Mckay would be a snorer.
Hs body seems to leech heaviness from the arm draped over his side and Sheppard is asleep within minutes.
Mckay wakes up to the oddly pleasing sensation of a hand carding through his hair. Long fingers leaving tantalizing trails across his head, somehow finding that one spot full of tension and pressing just so to--
"Mmm."
"And a grunt to you too."
Well at least Sheppard doesn't sound like he's about to bolt.
And there's a moment of panic when Mckay realizes he totally molested the guy who can kill him and pretty much not have to explain himself. After all, the guy did attempt to sacrifice himself to save their collective asses. Who questions a guy like that? Well, other than himself of course, because there's heroic and then there's downright stupid. Maybe he won't attempt mutual orgasms. It could be misconstrued as positive reinforcement. Leave a guy on lurch, in the middle of saving the galaxy with barely a by your leave, succeed when someone else saves your ass, come back, get sex.
No no, that's a horrible example to set for the intellectually challenged.
But then again. Sex. Which is a completely valid argument in it's own right.
Mckay's hand slides just a bit under Sheppard's shirt, tracing lazy circles into sleep warmed skin and Sheppard makes this utterly delectable little noise and Mckay decides that if the *exact* same set of circumstances were to ever happen again, and there is going to be sex, he swears by his first slide rule, he will do everything in his power to prevent said positive reinforcement. Assuming of course, he doesn't have a chance in hell of being *involved* in said sex.
His brain slowly lifts through the fog to discover that they've shifted during the night. He's still wrapped around Sheppard like some sort of freaky octopus, but Sheppard is on his back, leaving Mckay ample opportunity to curl a leg around him. There's a familiar warmth prodding at his inner thigh and it makes him smile into Sheppard's shoulder.
"Good morning." Mckay says sleepily, his voice rough and deep. He wiggles a bit in the guise of getting more comfortable but can't help licking his lips as Sheppard's breathing hitches as his thigh adjusts itself.
" 'Morning." Sheppard croaks. His hips shift around nervously, but don't really leave the basic vicinity of Rodney's thigh.
Excellent.
Mckay peeks up through half open eyes as Sheppard resumes his slow stroking, fingers coming to a stop just at the edge of his skin before tracing back their path. There's something glowing in his eyes as he watching his own hands, like touching, one of the most basic concepts in human evolution, has somehow mutated into something better. There's a slight flush creeping up from where the zipper on his black shirt had crept down in the middle of the night, it curls gently up his chin and around his cheek bones. Mckay watches it travel slowly until he meets Sheppard's eyes.
Mckay's hands twitch in surprise and he realizes the blush is a result of him watching. Not taking the chance at altering his gaze, Mckay let's his hands resume their slow journey around the Colonel's stomach, mapping out the muscles in a logical progression. They twitch under his fingers as Sheppard's pupils dilate.
"I see we're calmer this morning." Mckay's voice is hushed and he speaks into Sheppard's side, not really wanting to move enough to clear his mouth fully. Plus, there's that delightful shiver every time he lets loose a warm breath.
"I think I'm in denial."
"*NOW* you're in denial?"
"I'm a very deep man." Sheppard tries to look serious, but the faint smile he can't seem to get rid of ruins the moment.
Rolling his eyes Mckay lets his fingers roam upwards on Sheppard's torso. A guerilla strike, they may not make it out alive, but it's the sort of mission that's worth it. The left pectoral muscle seems oblivious, but as he inches further up the body beneath him tenses with a sharp indrawn breath. Taking pity, he settles for a secondary objective and only ghosts over the peaked nipple.
"Jesus Rodney." Sheppard let's out an unsteady breath.
"You're SO good for my ego." Mckay decides to risk it, the hand under Sheppard's shirt shifts so that it's firmly planted, allowing him to use it as leverage. It doesn't take much to get himself at eye level, but something stops him from actually kissing the other man.
A look in his eyes, of a man who wants something so bad, but is so afraid of what that means and Mckay realizes that's why he hasn't been getting laid, because he can't imagine what 'So long Rodney' would have felt like if they'd already been doing this. They, by some mutual but unspoken decision, rest their foreheads together. "Jesus John," he breaths out, nearly silently.
"Yeah." The word is half choked, wrung from Sheppard like the final confession, the knowledge more precious than Atlantis itself. "Don't make me watch you die Rodney, because I just can't--" His eyes close tightly, his jaw one large muscle, taught and unmoving even as his adam's apple bobs frantically.
"Selfish bastard." Mckay croaks. "You goddamned selfish sonofa-"
They're kissing. Hard and harsh, and he can taste salt mingled in with Sheppard's tongue. Rolling around roughly, they both vie for dominance, pulling and pushing, until finally Mckay just beats his fists on Sheppard's chest, never letting go of his lips, roughly plunging between them, pouring all of the anger into that kiss.
Sheppard's hands surround his, holding them tight, one graceful hand holding both of his between them, the other cupping his cheek, slowing him down, pulling him back. Mckay lets him, but tightens his leg around Sheppard's waist.
The hand moves from his cheek to his ass, pulling him tightly against Sheppard, rolling their groins together. The smooth material of their pants makes it easy to feel a hot, hard cock next to his own, another uncontrolled hip jerk and they break apart with a sharp gasp.
They stare at each other bleakly, heat crackling between them for endless seconds before they both burst into action. Hands fumbling at zippers, yanking and pulling until material gives way to hot skin. He pulls Sheppard over until the feel of him settles hot between his thighs. Sheppard braces a hand on the pillow next to Mckay's head and rocks carefully.
Mckay's eyes close, because its better than it has any right to be. He feels Sheppard's weight settle more fully on top of him and he makes a small impatient movement, which is all the encouragement Sheppard needs.
Lips murmur at his neck, leaving hot, spikey trails of lust. "Rodney-- I can't do-- we are so-- *fuck*." The whisper is broken, but it speaks for both of them as they cling desperately. Mckay can feel the bruises start, but he just holds tighter. The pleasure dances around them like fire licking at their limbs.
There's a hand on his ass, pulling him closer as reality spirals out of control into one large hazy ball of heat. Sheppard looses control first, biting down where Rodney's neck meets his shoulders. Mckay just holds the back of his head, fingers tightly woven into that ungodly hair as Sheppard muffles his cries into Mckay's skin, each one going straight to his dick, dragging him over the edge even as the tremors start in the body holding him down.
A burst of frantic movement startles Mckay but then there's a hand around his cock and his eyes are rolling into the back of his head and Sheppard's head is buried somewhere around his chest and he's coming so hard he thinks maybe his brains are dripping out of his nose.
Sheppard is mumbling something into his skin. "…fuck fuck fuck fuck…."
They've both stopped moving, laying limp and destroyed amidst the ruins of the bed. The shaking startles him and he realizes that Sheppard is moving his head from side to side. "God Rodney, this is so bad…"
"I know." He whispers, carding his fingers through Sheppard's thick hair. Because the dam was broken and there is nothing they can do to rebuild it. And he's not sure he'd even want to try.
***
Radek Zelanka mumbles quietly as he makes notes while walking swiftly down the corridor. The waste reclamation system is displayed prominently on his screen and he's stabbing it with the pen, highlighting circuit after circuit.
"I take it back, the ancients knew nothing, not with wiring like this, what were they thinking?" He stabs at another section, grimacing slightly. "Yes yes, when you have practically unlimited power, what is one energy spike here or there. Fans of the worst case scenario they were not."
Not needing to look up, he stops in front of one particular door and squares his shoulders, sighing deeply. "Rodney!" He kicks at the bottom of the door. "If you would stop turning off your comms, I wouldn't have to hunt you down like the annoying chihuahua I know you are!"
When an uncharacteristic lack of bitching greets him, he finally looks up. Kicking the door again, he peers through the opaque glass, hoping to see some sort of shadow of movement. Nothing. Odd. Because if Mckay is not in his room, he is in the lab and Zelenka has just come from there.
Something catches his attention on the diagram and he looks down at it frowning, making some more notes until the whisper sound of a door opening perks in his ears. Perhaps Rodney is just slow this morning? He probably didn't sleep, choosing in favor of vibrating nervous energy about all the dangerous and life threatening things his double has attempted through his life.
But no, the door in front of him is still not moving and there are quiet voices coming from down the hall. Ah, another early riser, or late worker.
"...John?"
"I'm fine Rodney."
Rodney? Zelenka peers down the hall and spies a disheveled Mckay leaning heavily against the door frame he vaguely remembers is Colonel Sheppard's. They're not speaking anymore, but Mckay stares into the room, lips half open, as if poised to say something, but he doesn't.
"Go." He hears Sheppard's voice say, weary and gravely. His head peaks out just far enough to make out messy hair and dark circles. A hand then reaches out from the confines of the dark room and pats Mckay on the shoulder carefully. "Go." He says again, his voice softer, but his face unreadable.
Mckay's mouth flaps a bit and Zelenka can just about make out the half formed words that aren't coming out. He apparently gives up the idea of trying to speak, surely a novelty on its own and nods sharply. The hand on his shoulder squeezes and Zelenka watches wide eyed as Mckay covers it with his own.
The air between them crackles, the last time Zelenka saw that look, it was between Mckay and a ZPM.
Knowing discretion is the better part of valor, if nothing, his early years have taught him that, he backs down the hallway to the nearest junction, slipping behind the corner on time for Mckay to turn and venture to his own room.
He hears the doors slide open and then shut, for good measure he continues work on the diagram for another minute or so before once again turning the corner and knocking loudly. "Mckay, what are you doing sleeping this late when there are repairs to be made?" There is discretion and then there is insanity, if he starts treating Mckay nicely, it would be heresy-- and it will be hell in the labs.
He almost offers to take it back when Mckay opens the door. His eyes are red rimmed and cheeks heavy with stubble, frown lines mar his face and make him look ten years older.
"Hungover?" Zelenka asks innocently.
The look Mckay shoots him could peel paint. "Bite me."
Zelenka lets his eyes slide meaningfully to the bruise barely hidden underneath the open collar of Mckay's shirt. "I would not wish to impose upon someone else's claim."
A hand shoots up to cover the mark and Mckay does a lovely impression of a young maiden who's unmentionables have been uncovered and left for all the world to see. He clamors to cover what little bare skin he has, but it only goes to highlight the wrinkles in his current set of clothes.
Zelenka lets a snort of laughter escape and Mckay freezes mid tug to glare at him.
"Yes yes, very funny, what do you want anyway, other than to restart my ulcer."
Shoving his computer into Mckay's hands, Zelenka points. "Here and here, they are my problem."
Mckay blinks at the diagram slowly, eyes focusing into pinpoint lasers, brow furrowing in confusion. "What is the matter with the ancients, have they never heard of any concept involving the word conservation?"
Zelenka nods distractedly, already changing the screens. "Yes yes, when we fix this problem, we build time machine so you can complain to them in person."
Mckay grumbles under his breath already taking his own notes next to Zelenka's. The door remains open and he takes that as an invitation to follow. Inside he sees Mckay is already starting to change clothing with one hand while he continues to write with the other. Moving to read over his shoulder, Zelenka begins nodding at once, understanding where he is going.
"There." Mckay points and hisses in pain, hand immediately retracting to his side.
"You are injured?" Zelenka turns to look at Mckay who is shirtless beside him and gasps.
Bruises. Peaking up from under his pants, wrapped around his sides, his arms, the mark near his shoulder is apparently only the tip of the ice berg.
Once again, like a maid in a fairy tale, Mckay clutches his shirt in front of him.
"I'm fine." He snaps.
Zelenka blinks at the vehemence. With a paper cut he'd hear about it for weeks. Looking like he just survived the physics department version of color wars he is fine? Something is rotten in the state of Atlantis and Zelenka, being far smarter than Mckay gives him credit for, is starting to put irrational number and irrational number together and coming up with the square root of five.
Mckay ignores his pointed stare and heads to the bathroom.
"I am not as stupid as you think I am." Zelenka says to his retreating back.
"Yes you are." Mckay calls from the other room. "You are just stupid enough to think that whatever might be wrong I can deal with it on my own without any nosy Czechs butting in and so you're just going to ask if you can get me some coffee and maybe an ice pack so that I'll be able to fix whatever problem it is that you can't."
He narrows his eyes at the closed door and lets out a slow breath. "I cannot do that Rodney. I never ask if I can get you coffee."
"Ok, then, correction, you're stupider than I thought you were."
Zelenka is silent, choosing not to respond to the door. He might do something out of hand, like permanently lock it.
Minutes later Rodney reappears looking freshly showered, shaved and dressed.
"Rodney?"
Mckay stops gathering his things and looks up at Zelenka, obviously trying not to look worried. "We're wasting time."
"You are really ok?"
He gets stared at, like he didn't actually expect the question. "Radek, am I ever ok?"
For some reason, the question makes him feel better. "Well seeing as how we aren't in *imminent* danger at this very moment, I thought perhaps I would get a different answer than your usual rhetoric."
"That's not rhetoric, that's a valid set of risk percentages that make me worry in descending order of likelihood."
Zelenka snorts. "Yes, that's normal." He eyes Mckay out of the corner of his eye. "For an actuary."
Mckay's glare helps file away the rest of the worry. For now.
***
Dr. Sheppard finds his way to the labs easily enough, vaguely amused at the marine following him at a discreet distance.
"Dr. Sheppard?" Radek's voice questioned from across the lab. "Is there something I can help you with?"
Shaking his head Sheppard takes a wide eyed look around, noting the similarities and differences in projects and personnel. "Call me John, we're pretty good friends where I come from."
Radek nods politely. "John then, is there something I can help you with?"
"No Radek, I was actually thinking I could help you. Dr. Mckay and I discussed several things I might be able to help you with while I was here and since Rodney is still worshipping at the altar of coffee, I thought I'd wander down here and get started."
Radek bounces excitedly. "Yes! Please, where would you like to start?"
"Water reclamation, jumper tweaking, power conservation or my personal favorite," Sheppard says, counting them off on his fingers, "the armory."
"Waste reclamation, food, time machine or the new mathematic proofs we've discovered?" Radek offers back, smiling broadly.
"Time machine?" Sheppard asks startled.
Radek takes him by the elbow and leads him to the nearest laptop. "Kidding." He winks.
Sheppard smiles, glad that this Radek is as easy to get along with as the other one is. "Tease."
Radek winks again before bringing up a set of calculations.
An hour or so later a shadow looms over them and points to something on the screen. "That breaks like three laws of physics."
Sheppard looks up amused. "Yeah, well, it's not like you haven't broken those before, Rodney."
Colonel Mckay gives them a sour look. "But those were the *stupid* ones." He waves a dismissive hand, still staring at the screen. Suddenly his eyes narrow and he points to another equation. "What base is that in? And are you even *using* Euclid or have you decided you're too good for him?"
Sheppard gives Mckay a friendly pat on the shoulder. "How about you go collect Colonel Sheppard and blow some stuff up together." Mckay gives him an angry glare, but he just smiles serenely. "They haven't found the armory yet."
Mckay blinks and a smile spreads across his face, like the light coming over the horizon. "Really?" His eyebrows waggle just a bit and his bounces on the balls of his feet.
"Really." Sheppard assures him.
"Cool."
Radek watches Mckay's retreating back with humor. "Should I warn Elizabeth?"
Tilting his head to the side, Sheppard considers it. "Possibly." Wow, he is so getting laid tonight.
***
Colonel Sheppard thinks it's quite possible he may have just fallen in love, he wonders if he can get away with hugging that big canon looking thing in the back.
Colonel Mckay is on his left looking suspiciously misty over a rack of grenade type things.
Sheppard picks up something that looks a lot like his sidearm, only sleaker and turns to Mckay. "What can you tell me about this?"
Mckay's eyes light up. "I like that one, it has a stun setting." He takes the weapon out of Sheppard's hands and points to one of the small indentations. "And this incapacitates, but doesn't knock them out."
"Cool."
***
Dr. Sheppard is about to stick his hand inside the wraith dart when Radek shoots a hand out to stop him.
"You are wearing dogtags."
Sheppard blinks. "Possible residual charge?"
Radek nods emphatically. "It would require a series of events that seem statistically impossible." He shrugs. "But then again, we are on Atlantis."
"Right." Sheppard smiles, taking off the tags and handing them to Radek. "Good point."
Radek eyes them curiously. "A wedding ring?"
Sheppard blushes, still not used to it himself. "I don't wear it on missions, never know when it could get in the way."
"Makes sense." Radek bites his lip, tapping gently on the item in his hand. "It is not to be discreet?" He finally asks.
Stopping in mid motion, Sheppard turns around and sighs. "Maybe a little. We share a room, Elizabeth insisted when the paperwork got back to her. So what's there to be discreet about?"
"She insisted?"
Sheppard smiles and runs a hand through his hair. "Something about being in another universe and if our horizons haven't expanded enough to handle that, god knows what we're going to fuck up over here."
Radek nods in approval. "I always said she is a smart lady."
Colonel Sheppard closes his eyes one last time before marching bravely into the gateroom. He's armed to the teeth, geared up and ready to go.
Until he sees Mckay nervously checking the clip in his gun.
That's when his stomach bottoms out and lunch reappears as a hard lump of queasiness. He misses repression. Really, he does.
What gets him most is that there's still a lingering feeling of relaxation deep in his muscles. It's a constant reminder he doesn't need.
"He is brave man."
Zelenka's voice from behind startles him.
Sheppard nods at him, pretending to check his own weapon's readiness.
Zelenka eyes him critically before nodding in approval. "You, I think, are a brave man also."
His head shoots up, meeting Zelenka's eyes.
Zelenka holds up a finger to forestall him. "I think." He qualifies again.
Their eyes hold for long seconds before Sheppard responds. "He know you're this smart?"
"He has nightmares about it." Zelanka nods mournfully.
They both laugh quietly before the Czech pats him on the shoulder and moves onto his next project.
He does finally lose himself in double checking his gear when Mckay sidles up next to him. "I have absolutely no idea what to say," he announces quietly, patting his pockets down.
Sheppard casts his eyes up, amused. "You're doing fine so far Rodney."
"John." It's said low and with a faint tremor.
"Rodney." He replies, rolling the word around in his mouth, giving it something more than its usual plaintive annoyance. He waits a beat. "Do you have this sudden urge to run through a field in slow motion?"
The sound of Rodney's hand meeting his arm is music to his ears.
"Now I know you're ok, flippant and irritating is your default setting."
"Is not."
Mckay grumps at him, frowning deeply, but the smile in his eyes gives him a flip flop he'd rather not examine.
They're both distracted by the two figures entering the room from the back, walking side by side, talking quietly.
Other Sheppard and Other Mckay seem oblivious to the chaos around them, going through their own routine, weapons check and all.
Sheppard watches Other Mckay handle his sidearm with unerring ease and competence and decides not to examine the feelings it evokes too closely.
"Slut." Mckay mutters next to him.
"You have some serious issues you need to work through." Sheppard says innocently. "And coming from me that should mean something."
"I'm choosing to ignore that."
"Of course you are Rodney."
All told, eight people are going through the gate. Sheppard, Mckay, Teyla, Ronon and two of the new recruits from the Deadelus, Major Lorne and Sergeant Remirez. And of course their doubles, but any and all plans had to work without them, because if they are successful, they won't be with them on the return trip.
He surveys the group, nodding in approval. Tapping his radio on he lets them know that they can start the dialing sequence whenever they want.
They enter the event horizon in twos, weapons raised at the ready. On the other side its just approaching dusk and the only sound is the low howl of the wind. Gravel skitters under their boots and the sound just makes them all tense but the quick walk to the platform is uneventful.
Other Sheppard steps right up, Other Mckay is only a half second behind, hand on his shoulder, looking carefully at the controls. They argue quietly until Other Sheppard points and makes a careful movement.
"Ha, I win." Other Sheppard bounces on the balls of his feet.
Other Mckay sighs dramatically. "Fine."
Sheppard smiles lightly. "You two good to go?"
"Yep." Other Sheppard nods. "All that's left is saying good bye."
They'd said their good byes earlier of course, the doubles seeking him out sometime after breakfast. They took one look at him and apologized. He just shook his head and told them not to worry. "Well it's been different." He offers a hand.
They both shake it solidly.
"The wind tunnel totally works." Other Sheppard winks at him.
Other Mckay tilts his head and nods reluctantly. "It does." He admits.
"Great." Mckay mutters. "You're encouraging him."
"As for you *Dr. Mckay*" Other Sheppard says, drawing out the title, "I think you're a pretty cool guy, wish we could have worked on some equations together or something. We could have made beautiful ships together."
Mckay looks flabbergasted and shakes Other Sheppard's hand with almost automatic enthusiasm.
Other Mckay steps forward. "Sometimes I wish I could have been you." He pulls his collar away from his neck, like one would a tie that's too tight. "Scars of a different shape I suppose."
Mckay gives him a small smile and nods. Their handshake is slower, but firm.
Other Mckay is letting go as Other Sheppard makes a meaningful cough.
"Oh for gods sake, fine." Other Mckay rolls his eyes and reclasps their hands, yanking Mckay forward.
Sheppard's hand is halfway to his sidearm before he realizes what's going on and has to stop a laugh from barking out. As it is his eyebrows are probably going to be stuck permanently up near his hairline.
Mckay's arms wave around wildly and he muffles a few protests against Other Mckay's lips before tilting his head and going limp.
Sheppard can see exactly when Mckay's brain catches up with his body, because his arms get into the action and it's a real kiss, Hollywood style, complete with swooning.
Sheppard smothers another chuckle and glances at other Sheppard, who he notes, is looking extraordinarily pleased with himself.
Other Mckay breaks the kiss and directs his double towards Sheppard. Mckay looks dazed, but pleased. There is so much fodder there; he doesn't know where to start.
"Best bet I ever lost." Other Mckay says for the benefit of the shocked others.
Sheppard eyes his counterpart. "You are seriously twisted."
Other Sheppard gives him an eyebrow.
He nods. "Touche."
Other Mckay joins Other Sheppard on the platform and turns to face them all. He gives them all a serious look and snaps off the smartest salute Sheppard has ever seen just before Other Sheppard hits the controls.
The light is bright and there's a vibration that rattles his teeth, but in the end, it appears to have worked, because they're gone.
They start back to the gate immediately, his run of luck has been too good, and the hair on the back of his neck prickles.
In the end, they don't hear it coming, the howls of the wind hide the flapping of large wings and the low screaming.
Ronon is the first to see, rolling to the ground and coming up, aim perfect, stopping the first one feet from their position. But now there are more, too many to count and they're brisk pace has changed to frantic running and shooting.
He watches them swoop then turn then swoop again. Shit. "We're being herded!" He yells.
They scatter, Teyla and Ronon going left, Remmirez and Lorne to the right leaving him and Mckay a straight line to the gate.
God, he loves it when a plan comes together.
The mutated Griffon things change tactics and start guerrilla style runs, gliding down, swiping and then climbing again. He empties the last of his P90 into the one closest to him.
There's no time to reload, because Teyla misses the one on his left and he has to drop and roll, coming back up with his service pistol firing. Behind him and to the right, he hears a scream that stops him dead, his heart contracting painfully. "Rodney!"
He turns, Ronon is already there, knife in hand, in front of him, he can see Mckay, face pale, talons digging into his shoulder, his mobile arm is reaching frantically around his vest, pawing for his own blade.
Teyla, bless her heart, cuts the feathers on the wing closest to her while he takes aim with his sidearm. His aim is deadly and shot ends in a loud squaw and another scream from Rodney as the thing fall to the ground, claw still embedded.
Behind him he can hear the others closing in, defending their six.
Ronan and Teyla are cutting through it's leg, leaving only the long, sharp nails behind. A screech behind him has him reloading the P90 and taking a shot at the closest one.
He turns back just as the last of the dead weight is separated and Mckay gives a small whimper, Sheppard is there beside him, hand squeezing his arm, helping wrap field bandages around the wounds. His hands are slick with blood and he leaves a small smear on Mckay's face where his thumb brushes past. There's not much they can do but wrap him up and get him to Beckett.
The flying creatures are retreating, Remirez and Lorne driving them away with a hail of bullets, or perhaps it was watching them carve up one of their own that does it. Sheppard doesn't care.
Rodney is pale and sweating and squeezing the life out of his hand. He squeezes back.
"Gonna faint?" He taunts, purposefully. "Come on Mckay, you gonna be the big girl here?"
Mckay hiccups some laughter, wincing as he does so. "Seen you cry." He taunts back faintly.
The reminder of things that should have never happened doesn't help the shaking in his hands. "Thems fighting words." He scoffs, winding an arm around Rodney, hauling him up quickly.
The scream is muffled this time, Rodney's teeth are clenched, muting the sound. But it doesn't stop him from resting heavily on Sheppard's shoulder. "I think I'm gonna throw up."
"No you're not Rodney." Sheppard admonishes, but he swings around anyway, getting his arms into position to hold a hunched over man.
They make it halfway before Mckay's hand tightens in his painfully, he can feel the shudders in the body mashed against his for support. "Teyla!" He calls, alerting all of them to the problem and then he stops and braces Mckay as he heaves.
Mckay clings to him desperately and Sheppard has to keep him from sliding to the ground. The shudders are violent and only make him worry more. When it's all done, he shoves the canteen under Mckay's nose and orders him to "rinse."
Nodding gratefully, he takes a slow drag, cheeks hollowing and puffing as he moves the liquid around before spitting to the ground. Mckay hands the canteen back gratefully.
They're moving again. Remmirez and Lorne dialing the gate and Teyla has her radio and IDC ready, sending the code and ordering the medical teams to the gateroom.
He practically has to drag Rodney the last few feet and they collapse almost immediately on the other side of the gate, Rodney falling to his knees and Sheppard fast behind him
He hears the wormhole close and like a switch, he's done. No more reason to be in charge, so all he has to hold onto is Rodney's hand, practically limp in his own and stare at Rodney's pale and sweating face.
Sheppard swallows hard. "I swear to god if you die I am going to be so pissed."
"Since when have I ever done anything to please you?" Rodney gasps at him. "But if it makes you feel better, your anger will be greatly out shadowed by mine."
"Oddly, I don't find that comforting."
Rodney closes his eyes, grimacing in pain. "Really, not on this planet to comfort you."
Words choke at the back of his throat as he nods. "I'd noticed that."
They've taken to staring into each other's eyes and holding each other's hands tightly and in the back of his head Sheppard's head he imagines a neon sign above them that flashes 'big gay Lieutenant Colonel here!'
Then Beckett is there, all frantic and Scottish and comforting on a level that Sheppard can't begin to describe. But he has to let go of the hand and he finds his fingers won't move, they're bloodless and stiff and he pries them away and flexes them slowly as he watches them roll Mckay away.
He takes one last look and turns to Elizabeth, time to clean up and debrief because he's got nothing left to do but stand around and not look like he's waiting to hear about Mckay.
***
"Colonel Sheppard?"
Dr. Beckett's voice makes his head snap up. There's an ache all the way from his neck past his shoulders and stopping somewhere near the small of his back. Some of it is remnants of their fight and flight from the planet, the rest is a result of long hours hunched over his desk, buried in paperwork.
He blinks blearily at Beckett, gesturing to the empty chair. His feet are planted firmly on the floor and the distance between his shoulder blades is slowly contracting, he's bracing for something and Beckett's appearance doesn't help.
"What's up doc?" He asks after Beckett makes himself comfortable. "Something wrong with Rodney?"
Beckett's eyes are on his hands, his thumb scrubbing at some invisible spot on his palm. "Well, Rodney's doing fine, all foreign bodies removed, bleeding stemmed, from my examination, it looks like they didn't hit anything too vital. A bit of physical therapy when all is said and done and he'll be ready for field duty in no time."
The information loosens something and Sheppard has to fight back a sound of relief. Instead he nods slowly, eyeing Beckett curiously. "Thanks for the info Doc, but something tells me you didn't come all the way down here to give me a status report, not that I don't appreciate it, I was getting kind of worried."
Beckett fidgets some more before speaking. "Well, normally I wouldna pry, it's skirting the edge of doctor patient confidentiality and all but I-"
"Carson."
Beckett looks startled at the interruption.
"Babbling." Sheppard elaborates.
He looks sheepish. "Ah yes, well the thing of it is," he pauses, briefly, considering what to say. "Is Rodney seeing someone?"
The supreme look of shock must be painted on his face because Beckett immediately starts speaking again.
"It's just that, as his doctor, it's hard to ignore certain physical indicators that would lead me to believe that he might be."
Still fighting down the welling panic he shoots Beckett a wide eyed face. "And you're telling me this because…?"
Beckett leans forward and lowers his voice drastically. Enough so that Sheppard has to lean in as well and they end up looking like they're plotting some sort of vast conspiracy to steal all newly arrived chocolate.
"Well if he is," Beckett whispers, "I haven't a clue and no one's been by to visit him and I thought perhaps we could arrange something, if it's the privacy that's got them worried, not that I could blame either them, on a gossip farm like this, a private thought is practically holy."
Swallowing hard, Sheppard nods like he follows the reasoning and isn't panicking like a scared little girl. "And again, I have to ask, why are you asking me?"
"Well aside from Radek, you two spend the most time together," Beckett explains reasonably, "I was going to visit him next."
"Ah." He leans back in his chair, hands crisscrossed in front of him, contemplating carefully. God, he can't even talk to Rodney, *couldn't* that morning. He'd been content to just leave it, let is lay where it was and see how it festered, how they'd both get screwed. It happened sooner than he'd thought, because back on that planet he was three shaking breaths from becoming useless.
Here he's about two. He stares at the paperwork, the busy work he's using to stay away from the infirmary and then looks at Beckett from under lowered lids and he makes a choice.
"There is someone."
Beckett looks surprised. "Sorry lad, I think subconsciously didna expect there to actually be someone, I just thought it a kindness to ask, just in case."
"Yeah well, I didn't expect there to be someone either." He agrees and later he's going to kick Rodney's ass for putting him in this position -- possibly after there's a lot of messy, hot sex. "So, aside from this little foray into breaching confidentiality, how are you on a regular basis?"
Beckett looks like he just insulted his mother. Sheppard holds up a hand forestalling any protests. "Gotta ask doc."
"Confidentiality is my middle name." His promise is punctuated by a salute. "Scout's honor."
Sheppard nods and regards Beckett seriously. "Ok, 0200, you'll still be on duty?"
"Aye."
"If he's not already there, move him to the quiet room in the back, the one near the auxiliary door that no one uses."
"I see where you're going." Beckett nods enthusiastically. "I'll do the vitals checks myself tonight, no one but I will be in there and do apologize to the lass, whoever it is, but that's as much discretion as I can offer."
"Yeah." Sheppard says quietly, "I'll do that."
***
Nighttime on Atlantis is ushered in with a hush, they are technically on a twenty-four hour rotational schedule, but the early hours of the morning always leave the corridors emptier.
The door he's walking to is in a moderately unused section, since the wall shares space with the patient rooms on the other side, it was thought to preserve some peace and quiet, the adjoining corridors would be kept free from foot traffic.
He slips inside and spies no one in the immediate vicinity, hiding between two rows of supplies he takes a moment to think about what he's about to do. He closes his eyes and sees Rodney, pale and unconscious, little lines of pain making grooves in his face. If anything his earlier visit, the one everyone expected him to make, only solidifies his resolve.
He makes it into the room quickly and without fanfare and stands just inside, taking his fill, looking at the pale face in the soft light. Rodney's eyes are sunken in pain and his head is turned away from the bandages on his left shoulder, lips parted slightly.
"She didna want to come?"
Sheppard jumps and whirls around. "For gods sake Beckett, that's some talent you have."
"It's part of the secret ninja training I received from doctor school." Beckett says smugly, but his eyes glance to Mckay's sleeping form and they turn sad. "To leave someone alone when they're laid up like that, it just isna right."
"He's not alone." It's said quietly, but with conviction.
Beckett walks over to Mckay and takes a quick set of vitals while nodding. "It's nice that you've come to keep him company, but someone should give the lass a good talking to."
Sheppard sighs. "Doc, you're not actually that dense, though I do appreciate the effort."
Beckett stops mid motion, his shoulders slumping. "Aye lad, I'm not."
"Also, seriously, I think I'm older than you, this lad business is starting to creep me out."
"Of course laddie."
"Oh yes, much better." Sheppard sighs as he toes his shoes off carefully and slips off his jacket, leaving them in a neat pile on one of the chairs. He'll curl up on the floor later for a quick catnap, but for now he settles for the semi comfortable chair next to the bed. He picks up Mckay's hand and threads their fingers together loosely.
Beckett watches him silently, not making any motion to leave.
He shrugs off the worried gaze, too tired care. He carefully lowers his head to the mattress, grateful for the soft surface beneath him, he adjusts the angle so that the top of his hair brushes against Mckay's hip.
He sighs, releasing a load of tension as he does, the line of muscle down his back now resembles a soft metal instead of granite. Carefully he swings his left hand to rest gently on Mckay's leg. Just above the knee.
The tension slowly creeps out with each breath, but it gives way to a new sort of tightness, a restraint that binds him and cramps his muscles because all he wants to do is crawl up into the bed with him.
He wants to cry and scream and blow something up, not just sit there, impotently, clinging to Rodney like a limpet. He feels something soft covering his shoulders and he looks up through fallen bangs to see Beckett covering him with a blanket. With a firm squeeze on his shoulder, Beckett slips out the door.
***
Mckay feels like crap.
He can tell even under the several layers of unconsciousness and narcotics. He knows that if he allows his brain up too far he'll have no choice but the face the crap head on. Right now he's content to lie there, not noticing the pain or the nausea or his scraped up throat or a number of other things he's sure is wrong with him.
Of course his bladder has other ideas. The traitor.
Maybe if he can convey the message subconsciously.
...
No. Not working.
So he begins the long descent into consciousness, or a close approximation thereof.
It takes a long time, seconds of infinite darkness as he remembers how to do things. He starts with his hand, it registers as limp dead weight but soon he can feel it cradled around something. Perhaps the call button. He works hard to make his fingers move, gratified when they finally twitch.
He feels something squeeze his hand back and there's a low murmuring in his ear.
"…Rodney…. Beckett… hold on…"
The sound wakes him up further and the comfortable cotton around his pain receptions lifts and--
"…ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow."
There's a hand on his forehead, soothing in ways he doesn't understand.
"Ah, I see my favorite patient is awake."
"….to hell." His lips don't get moving until the second word, but he's pretty sure Carson will get the meaning. Cheerful bastard.
"I see we're already feeling better."
He wants to tell Carson exactly how he's feeling but the hand on his forehead distracts him, which is confusing, because it's soft and doesn't have the tell tale rubbery feeling of Carson's examination gloves.
"I dunno, I think the insulting is just reflexive, I'm waiting for him to start whining about how dangerous breathing is."
"..ohn?" Damnit, his lips still aren't cooperating, that means Carson has him on the good stuff.
The stroking moves to his temple and then into his hair. "Hey grumpy butt."
"…hurt you."
"Promises, promises." The hand squeezes his again and he decides to give opening his eyes a try.
John Sheppard is looking down at him with a set of fuzzy black devil's ears. Mckay blinks hard, trying to focus. He looks again, nope, the ears are still there, but that's not his most distracting feature.
Sheppard's skin glows in the dark light, pale and soft. His stubble seems to take a millisecond longer to move than the rest of him and his eyes--
They're sunken and tired looking, but bright.
"Hello."
Mckay blinks again, because Sheppard has this delayed voice thing going on, like the old Godzilla movies.
"John." Jeez, why does he keep saying that?
"Yes, you Tarzan me John."
For some reason he finds that funny and some half way pathetic cough of laughter barks out of his abused throat.
Sheppard squeezes his hand lightly.
There's a cool breeze of air and suddenly Beckett is doing something highly inappropriate with a bed pan, but the wave of relief that goes through his body makes him put the plotting of what he likes to call 'Operation freeze Beckett out of his quarters' onto the back burner.
Beckett does some more intrusive poking and prodding before announcing that Rodney should be fine and dandy once the next round of meds kicks in.
Oh the fun.
He can recognize the barely there whoosh of air as the door closes leaving him alone. With Sheppard.
Who's looking at him like he's a jigsaw puzzle he's trying to solve but he can't find all the edges. "You are so totally not allowed to do that ever again." Sheppard says fiercely, managing never to loose his slightly amused and bewildered expression.
Mckay blinks at him sarcastically. It's meant to convey something along the lines of "Oh yes, because I always thought that typing up notes on a computer with a sling was the one thing missing in my life. And oh yes, the nearly constant peril is doing wonders for my colon."
Sheppard seems unimpressed and Mckay adds 'Find an ancient device that can help him express his irritation without speaking' near the top of the list of things to do when he can move on his own again. It'd be a serious time saver.
The hand on his squeezes hard and Mckay's wandering attention is yanked back to Sheppard.
"I'm serious Rodney, this is why I--" Sheppard stops short, lips clamping shut.
The choked words make Mckay's head spin worse because now he's back in that headspace where the reality of badly he fucked up keeps hammering its way through his echoing skull. He spies the pale skin and dark circles again and he aches knowing there's no turning back now. Mckay takes his own turn at squeezing, annoyed at his pathetic effort, barely brushing of fingers, but it's enough to catch Sheppard's attention.
He let's their eyes linger on each other, a tether like existence, anchored into that spot, saying everything they can't.
"Thank you." Mckay whispers.
Shepperd's eyes widen in confusion. "For what?"
He can't answer at first, he's not sure why he said it, he just feels so bloated, something inside him is expanding, making his skin feel tight and the warmth on his hand is the only thing holding him down.
At his silence, Sheppard rubs a hand through his hair again, and Mckay can't help but close his eyes and sigh into the caress. "For caring." He mumbles.
The hand on his head freezes momentarily before resuming it's journey.
"Jesus Rodney." Sheppard whispers in his ear. "Don't. Ever. Do. This. Again."
"Logic, not your forte." Mckay whispers back, tilting his head closer to Sheppard's lips, letting out an inarticulate sound when they brush the shell of his ear.
"Reason number two hundred and five why this is a very bad idea." Sheppard says unsteadily. "Logic will never be my forte when you're covered in blood."
"Hmmm." Mckay answers, twisting his head further until-- yes, lips on his in a soft kiss. "Sleep now." Because they've covered enough ground considering at least one of them has a shit ton of narcotics racing through their system.
He feels Sheppard start to pull away and he makes an upset noise. "Here." He taps his fingers on the bed. "Sleep here."
"Probably not a good idea." Sheppard's voice wavers slightly. He sounds tireder than Mckay feels.
"Touch bed. Think bigger." Mckay explains.
An audible blink later and Mckay feels the bed shifting -- expanding -- underneath him. God bless ancient technology. Mckay nods approvingly and pats the bed again. "Sleep."
He can feel Sheppard carefully climb in next to him. "How come I don't know about that little trick."
As the warmth settles next to his side, Mckay relaxes slowly. "Secret. Geeks have too much sex anyway." He wiggles a little. "Never get anything done."
A warm huff of air hits Mckay's ear as Sheppard unsuccessfully holds back a snort and he sighs tragically. "Don't believe me? Tell. You'll be sorry."
"Of course I believe you Rodney." Sheppard curls around him, arm laying gently over his stomach. "You're a super genius."
"Bet ass I am." He mumbles already falling asleep.
Sheppard bundles down, relaxing into sleep. "I expect really good sex because I took the position where my arm is going to fall asleep."
Mckay snorts. "Get your own lines."
THE END