starrylizard

Title: Lovers Touch
Author:

starrylizard
Characters: McKay/Sheppard, with a side order of Beckett/Weir
Rating: MA, I think. (All the smut in this one is fairly “fade to black”)
Notes: This is a sequel to follow on from Memory in a Touch and Need (of a Touch) and was written in response to the

artword challenge 004A. Thanks to

rinkle and

sakuracorr for the ultra fast beta. (I think this finishes off the series, but I’ve learnt to never say never.)
Summary: McKay and Sheppard are still bound together by a connection they don't understand, and now they are learning what it truly means to them.

Rodney stepped out of the transporter, ambling down the darkened corridor in a half daze. He was aware he was going the long way to his quarters, but his green goo-induced spidey sense was tingling and he knew John was there. He knew he could get a last touch to calm his nerves before he stumbled into bed. And, just as he’d somehow known, John was there, walking down the corridor he’d now entered. The two men looked at each other and then past each other, as if embarrassed by what they saw in each other’s eyes… need. They slowed their pace just enough to brush shoulders, hips and cheeks, clutch and caress a hand and intertwine an arm briefly, leaning in to feel the skin-on-skin contact they craved like a drug for just a few seconds longer. Breaking apart, they continued down the corridor as if it had never happened.

A few doors further down the corridor, Dr Elizabeth Weir locked eyes briefly with Sheppard before she moved into her own quarters, and he knew she had seen it all. She had seen more than just two men accidentally brushing past one another in the dark. She had seen the need and the desperation in that touch, and there would be consequences.

~ * * * ~

Elizabeth watched as the two men entered her office, both dressed casually in black tee shirts. They sat down and although she normally wouldn’t have thought anything of it, she noted how their bare forearms gently touched as they shared an armrest.

“Gentlemen. I’m sure you’re aware of why I’ve called you in here.”

Both men nodded.

“I think it’s time we tried to separate the two of you for a while. Obviously, you must be getting tired of being grounded, and we need to know that you can both be separated without any consequences before we can send you back out into the field.”

“We are on the same team, Elizabeth. I don’t see that there’s anything stopping us from going back out in the field,” snapped Rodney.

“Okay, Rodney. So, suppose I send you on a mission and you and the Colonel get separated, or one of you gets kidnapped…or killed?” This last option was said in a gentler tone, but Rodney winced nonetheless.

“Point taken.”

“So we’ll just try staying apart for a while. Can’t be too bad, right Rodney?” John shifted uneasily, moving his arm off the armrest.

Rodney nodded, looking sullen. He still remembered all too clearly the last time they had been separated; specifically, he remembered holding a loaded gun on Carson. With a resigned sigh, he pulled his arm away from the armrest and the two men left the office, striding purposefully away in opposite directions.

~ * * * ~

Rodney paced the small space of his quarters, treading a well-worn path. He’d worked all day in his lab, but his griping, sniping, yelling and otherwise generally irritable mood had slowly cleared out all the other researchers. Even Radek had finally given up, waving his hands in a helpless gesture and muttering in Czech, before stalking off to find more amiable company.

After that, Carson had turned up, dragged him back to the infirmary and taken his blood pressure and heart rate, among other things. He’d tut-tutted and tried to get him to take some mild sedatives to calm him down, which Rodney had refused, and he’d finally sent him to his quarters with orders to rest.

Now, back in his quarters, he contemplated going back to the lab, but he didn’t think he could concentrate even if he did. Finally, he resolved to find Sheppard and just make sure he was okay. After all, he’d found himself accidentally drifting into the other man’s presence several times already during their enforced separation period. His green-goo influenced subconscious would simply carry him there when his mind was otherwise occupied, but luckily Sheppard hadn’t seemed to notice.

Besides, he had been informed that Sheppard was going on a brief off-world mission today, a trading mission of some sort. So, he could only assume that Weir was satisfied that they could cope with being apart now. Rodney couldn’t help but smirk at this thought. Obviously Sheppard was better at hiding his…What was this anyway? Nervous energy? Twitchiness? Rodney couldn’t help but compare it to how he’d felt in the weeks after he’d come down from the enzyme, and, if he was being honest with himself, he saw it for what it was: a need and an addiction. Or was it more than that? They had been apart for a little over two weeks now. Maybe Sheppard wasn’t just hiding his symptoms. Maybe he didn’t feel the same way. This thought made Rodney’s gut clench tightly and he sped up his steps slightly, letting his green-goo-enhanced senses carry him toward Sheppard.

~ * * * ~

Colonel John Sheppard was in the exercise room getting very well reacquainted with his favourite punching bag. He had glared at the only other person in the room as he’d entered, and the lieutenant had quickly left, mumbling about having finished her workout for the day.

He grunted as he struck out at the bag, throwing an endless succession of punches. He took what small release he could find in the satisfying smack that his fist made each time it hit the target, and, pretty soon, he didn’t see the bag, so much as the face of the trader on the planet.

Smack

The man’s expression of helpless sorrow, as the Genii soldiers had stepped out from their hiding places and demanded that they hand over McKay.

Smack

The look of annoyance, when they realised McKay was not with them.

Smack

Lieutenant Charles Reilly had gone down, the blood seeping out from his protective vest. The vest that didn’t protect him well enough at such close range.

Smack

The young man’s eyes staring into his own, as he struggled for breath, and he’d dragged the Lieutenant, beating a hasty retreat back toward the gate.

Smack

The young Lieutenant, whose youthful dedication and enthusiasm had reminded Sheppard of so many other young lives lost or wasted…The man who reminded him in so many ways of Ford and Markham, and made him think of Smith and Walker and Stevens and Gall and Abrams... Lives wasted, gone too early. Lives he was responsible for.

Smack

Lifeless eyes stared into nothing. He’d reached down and closed them, shaking his head at Dr Beckett as the event horizon had snapped shut behind them and the rest of the medics had arrived.

Sheppard smacked the bag harder and harder, completely unaware that his knuckles were now raw, red blood trickling down his hands, as he kept up volley after volley of punches. Another thought was also worrying at his mind, slowly coming closer to the surface, until he finally had to let it flood into his conscious thought. His response was to hurl his fists at the bag all the harder.

They had wanted McKay. Thank God McKay hadn’t been there. What if they’d taken McKay?

“Colonel Sheppard? John? What the hell are you doing? Stop that. You’re bleeding.” He was only vaguely aware of the voice, but something about it disturbed him slightly from his current state of introspection.

Then a hand touched his shoulder lightly, obviously ready to pull back should he spin around and aim a punch, but instead he stilled, shivered slightly, tense muscles beginning to unknit, as the connection he’d been missing for over two weeks was suddenly reinstated.

“Oh God,” he murmured and then he was sliding gently to the floor, and Rodney was coming with him, holding him, rocking him gently, and there were tears on his face. He was a Colonel in the US Air force for God’s sake; he didn’t cry, but right now he didn’t care.

McKay, rocking the colonel, got flashes of the disturbing images from John’s mind. Images of the mission just passed, of a Lieutenant he couldn’t save, of Ford and Abrams; this last image twisted Rodney’s own gut with the overwhelming feeling of loss and guilt that it brought.

It was too much for him, all this hurt and pain, and Rodney pulled away from it on reflex and instinctively brought up the first comforting memory he could think of. Still rocking Sheppard in his arms, Rodney started to hum a tune gently, the tune his grandmother used to hum to him. Sheppard stilled in his arms and relaxed, as his senses became flooded with the sights and sounds of a memory that was not his own.

He was young, very young. His small body curled into a comfortable lap, tears drying on his face, as the old woman hugged him tight and hummed a gentle tune. She kissed the top of his head. “My darling Rodney,” she murmured in between snatches of the song. He could hear his parents still yelling in the kitchen downstairs, but here in his Nanna’s embrace, safe and warm, he could almost forget about it. He could pretend it didn’t matter. He was safe.

He hummed with his grandmother. Hummed the counter melody she had taught him to play earlier that day. His chubby fingers had matched her old bony ones on the keys of the baby grand piano that took pride of place in the McKay household living room and she had laughed and smiled. “Such a clever little one. My darling Rodney.”

They stayed there for a long time, Sheppard’s back pressed into Mckay’s chest as he held John close, eyes closed, rocking them gently. The silence of the empty gym was broken only by the gentle sounds of the two men humming: melody and counter-melody combining seamlessly, soothingly, calmly, and lovingly.

~ * * * ~

“Rodney?”

“Either you come in and let me deal with those,” Sheppard looked down at his blood-encrusted hands, as Rodney continued, “or I take you to see Beckett and you can explain to him how they ended up like that.”

Rodney crossed his arms across his chest obstinately, and Sheppard stepped into Rodney’s quarters with a sigh. “You know we aren’t supposed to be spending our time together,” Sheppard grumbled.

“Yes, of course. Like that little scene in the gym didn’t blow that idea out of the water. Besides, it’s been over two weeks.” Rodney looked hurt for a moment and snapped his mouth closed on whatever he was about to say after that, but Sheppard could hear the unspoken words, “Don’t you feel it? Don’t you feel the need?” that he thought Rodney was about to say.

Rodney simply hustled John inside, sitting him on the edge of the bath tub while he found some antiseptic to clean the damaged hands with. He wrapped John’s hands with fresh gauze, patting them like Carson always did when he was done and winked cheekily. “Aye that aught to do it laddie,” he mimicked in a bad imitation of a Scottish accent and Sheppard smiled up at him. For some reason that smile made Rodney blush and he looked away.

“You know, Radek recently procured some more movies from the new arrivals on the Daedalus. One of them was ‘Back to the Future’. Terrible movie, don’t get me started on the scientific inaccuracy of the whole thing, but when you’re in another galaxy you can’t be too picky. I was going to watch it on my laptop. If you want to join me…?”

Sheppard’s face lit up. “I love that movie.”

That was how Rodney found himself sitting next to Sheppard on his bed, their shoulders and bare arms gently touching, as they both watched the screen of the laptop, which was propped on their legs stretched out in front of them. Sheppard just grinned indulgently whenever Rodney felt a need to rant about the ludicrous science, complete with hand-waving gestures. At some point during the movie, Rodney must have dozed off. At least, he couldn’t remember seeing the end.

~ * * * ~

He was flying. The controls under his hands felt like an extension of his body, as the helicopter moved to his whim. The ground was rushing past at a dizzying rate, his body responding with an adrenaline rush, familiar and like nothing he’d ever felt. He silently calculated wind velocities, angles of trajectories and wind resistance somewhere in the back of his mind, glancing at the instruments in the cockpit, but none of it really meant anything; he was running on instinct, habit, routine and practice.

Suddenly Rodney felt queasy; looking down, the ground was moving too fast, his heart was racing, a feeling of dizziness washed over him and his hands felt clammy. He wasn’t in control. He was falling, rushing inexorably toward the ground and he couldn’t stop.

Relax.

It wasn’t a command, but he obeyed nonetheless. As his sleepy body crawled towards consciousness, he became aware of a comfortable weight across his chest. One of John’s bare arms was resting up underneath his tee shirt, where it snaked across his bare belly and up onto his chest, creating the skin-on-skin contact they both craved.

Rodney’s breathing gently slowed to a more regular pace and, although he didn’t know it, began to mirror that of the regular rhythm of the man by his side. He was still half asleep, but he realised now that he had been fast approaching consciousness and his mind had begun the process of sorting his thoughts from John’s.

I said relax, Rodney. I want to try something.

Rodney only had a few seconds in which to wonder what time it was and to realise that the presence of the arm around him meant that John had not yet left his bed, before he obeyed the voice again, letting himself glide back into the sleepy land between waking and dreams. He was once again flying. The helicopter was moving shockingly quickly and the sky was rushing over his head, moving so fast he was sure he should feel sick. Yet his hands were steady on the controls; he felt great, he was back in control. He wanted to tell John, but creeping back toward wakefulness, he felt John’s other hand where it had gently slid down underneath the small of his back.

I know, Rodney. I’m here too, don’t you see? Let’s say we get a little closer?

Suddenly the helicopter was losing altitude, dropping fast enough that his stomach felt left behind. His breath caught in his throat. While, somewhere in the back of his mind, Rodney knew this should frighten him, he instead felt only the rush of exhilaration – Sheppard’s exhilaration. Beneath them, the endless expanse of Antarctic whiteness was spread out around them like a vast blanket, moving fast enough that McKay couldn’t pick out any particular point of reference. There was only the bluest blue sky above and the endless white ground below and then Sheppard by his side. Rodney watched John grin broadly, like a school boy, as he turned briefly to face Rodney where he now sat in the passenger side.

Cool!

How are you doing that? What are you doing? Rodney smiled crookedly back at Sheppard.

Haven’t you ever heard of lucid dreaming, Rodney? Don’t think about it, just enjoy.

And Rodney did, throwing his head back and giving an uncharacteristic whoop of pure unadulterated joy.

~ * * * ~

From there, life seemed to go back to normal for McKay and Sheppard, or at least whatever passed for normal in the Pegasus Galaxy. Over the next week, Dr Weir grudgingly reinstated the team to active mission status, and between the constant repairs the city needed, the lab explosions he averted, the experiments needing his constant attention, not to mention the regular off world missions, Rodney shouldn’t have had time to think about what his feelings for Sheppard meant, but somehow he found that he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Were they real or was it just some weird Ancient green-goo-induced biochemical fuckup? For once, McKay wished he’d had some aptitude for the biological sciences. Instead, all he could do was waste valuable mental resources by thinking and rethinking every interaction he’d ever had with Sheppard since the day he’d languidly strolled his way into the Antarctic base. Or, occasionally, when time permitted, he’d taken to following Dr Beckett around, asking him seemingly random and unanswerable questions.

~ * * * ~

John knew well before he got to his quarters that Rodney was inside. He had been well aware every time Rodney had come close to him in the previous weeks, although he’d done his best to studiously ignore him for the sake of getting back to active duty status. He therefore wasn’t at all surprised when he opened the door to find Rodney sitting on the edge of his bed, waiting impatiently.

At John’s entrance, Rodney stood up and moved to face him, as the door swished closed at his back. “We need to talk.”

“Okay. What’s the problem, McKay?”

“The problem.” Rodney stared at him, wide-eyed, an expression on his face that said all too clearly What are you, a moron? “The problem is that I’m not gay.”

“You don’t look unhappy.” The droll reply was met with an exasperated sigh.

“I’m not gay, but all I can think about when you’re not around is you…And when you are around, I’m thinking about you. I’m pretty much devoting a good chunk of my brain power every day to thinking about my co-worker, my male co-worker, and I’m not gay! Doesn’t that seem odd to you? At least I don’t think I’m gay….”

While he spoke, his voice and body language slowly winding up to highly agitated, he was leaning in closer and closer to John, who was trapped up against the closed door. John couldn’t help notice Rodney’s warm breath on his face as he kept on talking, his lips so close that if he leaned forward just a little bit…

“Is this all just because of some green gunk that I knocked over, or is it something else? I mean is it screwing with my brain, or did I always feel this way? Huh? And do you feel it too, or…?” Rodney was effectively silenced when John’s smiling lips kissed his own.

The connection was so strong that his knees would have buckled if not for John’s hands holding him by the shoulders. The dimly remembered night they had spent in the infirmary suddenly came flooding back to him.

“Does that answer your question?” John asked, as he pulled back, gently releasing his hold on Rodney, who blinked several times, nodding his head, apparently rendered speechless. “And for the record, I’m not gay either.”

“You don’t look unhappy,” Rodney quipped, a lopsided grin overcoming his mouth, as he leaned in for another kiss.

They undressed each other slowly this time, taking the time to touch and caress each new piece of skin as it was exposed. When every inch of skin tingled for contact, speed wasn’t an issue, exploring was, and they seemed to be in agreement on that point. John, still standing with his back up against the bedroom wall, leaned back into it, as Rodney ran a hand slowly down his chest, gently traced a hip, before moving down further.

“Wow, do you feel that?” John suddenly asked.

“I’m pretty much feeling every inch of your skin here.”

“That’s good too, better than good even, but feel that.” He brought Rodney’s hand up to touch the wall, and he did feel it. It was as if Atlantis herself was actively paying attention, quivering at their touch.

“Wow. Not bad at all. I think I like this wall very much.” Rodney grinned again, melting into John’s body, and tilted his head for another kiss. The whole time he kept one hand on the wall, shivering minutely from a feeling, which while pleasurable, he couldn’t quite identify.

~ * * * ~

It was late, almost time to call it a day. Elizabeth rubbed at the tired muscles in her neck, as she watched the Lieutenant leave her office only to be replaced by Dr Carson Beckett.

“If you don’t mind me saying, you look beat love,” he greeted her.

Elizabeth smiled. “What is it I can do for you, Carson?”

Handing her a sheet of paper, he moved to the nearest wall and leaned back, casually crossing his arms on his chest. “Just the usual medical requisitions request for the next Daedalus run.”

“Ah, now that’s something I can easily deal with. I’ll pass it onto Colonel Caldwell right away. Was there anything else?” Elizabeth glanced up when no answer was immediately forth coming, only to see Carson looking down, his face flushed and his breathing shallow.

“Carson, are you all right?” She quickly pushed to her feet, moving to his side.

“Don’t you feel that?”

Then she touched his arm and she felt it too. “Oh my God.” Carson steadied her with a strong arm, as her knees turned to jello and threatened to go out from under her. She looked into his lovely, intense blue eyes as they regarded her own, and she had no doubt her face was now flushed too. “How are you doing that?” she breathed.

“It’s not me, it’s…” Carson looked down flushing furiously again, as his body responded enthusiastically to the stimulus. “…coming from the city.” He gave a helpless shrug. Elizabeth was feeling it, though she was getting it second-hand from Carson, rather than through the city’s walls, and she wondered how much stronger it was for him. It must be an ATA thing, some small logical part of her brain thought, but she couldn’t bring herself to let go of his arm. Instead she shivered lightly and stepped closer, leaning in to press her body against his. Her cheek brushed against the warm stubble of his chin as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.

~ * * * ~

As Carson pulled her to her feet, Elizabeth straightened out her clothing and pushed her hair back behind her ears, grinning sheepishly the whole time.

“Do you think that was happening all over the city, Carson?”

“Aye, probably love.” Carson raised his eyebrows, frowning slightly.

“We’ll need to get back to work then.” Elizabeth was already calculating the ways in which this could create some work for their chief medical officer in particular.

“Aye. I suppose we do at that.” Carson leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on Elizabeth’s forehead. “We’ll talk later, all right.”

She nodded, relieved, as he made to leave her office. “Carson? What was that exactly?”

He looked thoughtful for a moment. “I think a marriage was just consummated.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened slightly, as she got his meaning, before she nodded again carefully. “I think you may be right.”

~ * * * ~

John stretched languidly. Rolling onto his side, he propped himself up on one elbow and smiled down at Rodney. Just remembering the night before caused a delicate shiver to trace down his spine, and, keeping that thought in mind, he leaned over to trace a hand across Rodney’s chest, grinning broadly as a small shudder visibly traced through Rodney’s body in response to the mental image John was projecting loud and clear. Rodney let out a surprised and sleepy mewl.

He opened his eyes then, blinking up at John. “Morning.”

“Hi. How are you?”

“I’m not unhappy. How about you?”

“Yeah. Feeling rather gay actually.” He grinned, before snuggling back into Rodney, snaking a hand across his chest possessively, and pretty soon he drifted happily back into sleep, where he dreamed a strangely comforting dream.

He was flying a helicopter, a tabby cat gently purring from the backseat, an old lady’s voice humming gently in tune with the engines, the cockpit flight controls shaped like piano keys, the bluest of wind-swept oceans passing by underneath them, the beautiful city of Atlantis just coming into view up ahead, and Rodney was his co-pilot, seated by his side.

~ End ~