Unified field theory
Attempt to describe all fundamental interactions between elementary particles in terms of a single theoretical framework (a "theory of everything") based on quantum field theory.
"I do actually need that arm to do my job, you know. Cutting off my circulation and leaving it to fall off from gangrene while you suck the remaining blood from the muscles like a leech—for completely useless tests, I might add—is not the best advertisement for your work."
Carson shook his head and continued tapping the inside of Rodney's elbow to find a vein.
"Don't you have a cute nurse whose only job is to draw blood? Or is this the reason you went to school for so long? You couldn't get the hang of it, so they—" Rodney inhaled sharply as Carson stuck the needle in.
"Do you always insult Dr. Beckett right before he's about to stick a needle in your arm, McKay?" Sheppard said from behind him. "Not a smart survival tactic."
Rodney rolled his eyes and tried to turn enough to look at Sheppard, stopping at Carson's muttered admonition to remain still or risk becoming a pin cushion. Sheppard moved into Rodney's line of sight, a lopsided grin on his face as Rodney frowned at him from his seat on the infirmary bed. "I don't expect to have to protect myself from the medical staff when I'm getting checked over after just saving everyone's lives, thank you."
"That still doesn't mean it's smart to bitch at the doctor when he's attending to you personally," Sheppard replied.
"Especially when one has the ability to spread rumors that would keep you from being intimate with anyone for months," Carson added as he removed the tubing from around Rodney's arm.
"Oh, please, like I haven't already survived that long," Rodney retorted. "At least find a threat that's actually worthwhile, if you're going to mock my pain."
"No coffee for a week?" Sheppard said with a devilish look. Rodney glared at him.
"No, wait, I've got it: we'll give all your coffee rations to Ford. Think that would work, Dr. Beckett?"
"Aye," Carson answered, smiling as he finished up, "and then we'll make him sit and watch as the lieutenant drinks it all."
Rodney rolled his eyes and hopped down from the cot. "Are you finished with me, Carson? I'd like to be able to get some sleep sometime this century."
"Away with you." Carson made shooing motions. "Grab something to snack on before you retire for the night. I don't want to see you in here in the morning looking peaked."
"Thanks, Mom. I don't know how I survived this long without you telling me what to do."
"It's a miracle, actually," Carson replied with a conspiratorial grin that Sheppard returned. Rodney shook his head in disgust and headed for the infirmary doors.
Rodney gave Sheppard a sideways glance as they fell into step. Sheppard held out a granola bar and Rodney narrowed his eyes. An innocent look hovered on Sheppard's face as Rodney took the bar and ripped open the wrapper. "Don't you have anything better to do, Major?"
"Not really," Sheppard replied with a smile.
"No Ancient devices to turn on, no puddle jumpers to race, no alien maidens to 'liaise' with?" Rodney raised an eyebrow. "Really, Major, your intrepid space explorer credentials will expire if you don't keep in daily practice."
"Do we get secret decoder rings to identify ourselves to the bad guys, so they know we're supposed to survive the episode?" Sheppard asked, trying not to laugh.
Rodney rolled his eyes and turned another corner.
Sheppard kept pace. "There seems to be a severe lack of unattached alien maidens around here, unfortunately."
"What about Teyla?" Rodney asked as he took a bite of the granola bar. "You two seem to be hitting it off well."
"Getting the crap beaten out of me by a woman half a foot shorter than I am isn't exactly what I'd call heavy petting," Sheppard said. "I'm thinking the big sticks kind of give it away."
Rodney smirked. "Your ego can't handle having sex with people who can beat you up, Major?"
"Nah, Teyla's just scary," Sheppard replied with a grin before changing the subject. "Seriously, you don't think that never being able to touch another human being again because you were stuck behind that shield would suck? People have died from lack of human contact, you know."
"I would've died of starvation before I'd gotten horny, thanks."
"No, you'd probably have passed out first."
"Oh, very funny, Major. What's next, a t-shirt that says 'I survived my first week in the Pegasus Galaxy'? You're just a laugh a minute."
"I try my best," Sheppard replied.
"Of course, it isn't actually possible to die from lack of sex—but you've brought up an interesting point. On expeditions like this, for instance, the presupposition is that no one will mess up the reporting structure by having sex with anyone who works under them, but to assume that a closed group of people this far away from home won't indulge in sexual contact is ludicrous. Hence the reason we have numerous crates of condoms and birth control pills, even if nobody talks about them."
Rodney took another bite of the granola bar before continuing. "And that doesn't even take into account the problems senior staff could have, dealing with accusations of favouritism if they're sleeping with a junior member of their team. Yet those are the very people they would have time to get to know and potentially become intimate with."
A small, dangerous smile, which Rodney could just barely see out of the corner of his eye, appeared on Sheppard's face. "So the only answer is for the senior staff to sleep together?"
Rodney stopped in front of the door to his quarters and turned to look directly at Sheppard before answering. "I suppose that would be one way to deal with the situation. I was thinking more along the lines of having weekly orgies to let everybody work out the sexual tension rather than letting people pair up and throw off the perceived balance of power, but if you want to try to sleep with, oh, say, Carson," he said with a grin, waving his hand back in the general direction of the infirmary, "go for it."
Sheppard laughed with the same open smile that had made a brief appearance earlier when they were testing the personal shield. It was one of the few entirely genuine expressions he'd seen on the man's face—the rest all seemed a little too rehearsed. Rodney shook himself and dragged his attention back to what Sheppard was saying.
"Do you really think orgies would work to keep the peace?"
"Not that they'd do anything more than guess anyway, but do I look like a sociologist to you? I just thought it'd be cool to have an orgy," Rodney replied with a deliberately nonchalant shrug.
Sheppard grinned. "Yeah, it would be, but it'd probably just be easier to find someone willing to lend a helping hand with no strings attached, rather than making it all complicated and soap opera-y."
"'As Atlantis Turns,'" Rodney said with a snicker as he turned to face the door to his quarters.
Sheppard groaned in response as he leaned on the wall next to the door, arms and ankles crossed. "Please, no more. I don't think I can handle the mental pictures."
"Kinky," Rodney said, wiggling his eyebrows.
"Hey, I'm not the one planning base-wide orgies," Sheppard said.
"Oh please, as if you haven't had group sex fantasies before. In fact, I doubt I'd even bother asking if you had them; I'd just consider it a given."
"I think I'd be offended if it wasn't true."
Rodney smiled smugly. "There you are."
"Right," Sheppard said, drawing the word out with a smirk. "And you, of course, don't have a very active imagination in which you dream of screwing your way through the entire expedition team in a series of orgies."
Rodney felt his neck flush. Of all the conversations he'd ever imagined having once they'd reached Atlantis, comparing group sex fantasies with the expedition's resident cocky major hadn't even made the list.
And was that a requirement for promotion that no one had told him about? Officers were required to be sexy and brilliant but unbelievably dumb at the same time? Not that Sheppard was as dense as he'd seemed at their first meeting—and he met the sexy requirement nearly as well as a certain blonde colonel of Rodney's acquaintance.
"Was there something you needed, Major?"
"You mean besides a helping hand?"
"Is it really that easy for you? You just walk up to someone and ask if they want to have sex?"
Sheppard paused a moment, the look on his face missing serious and sincere by kilometres. "Is that a no?"
Rodney barely refrained from rolling his eyes as he opened the door. "Your ego is unbelievable."
Sheppard grinned back. "Like you're going to turn down sex? You're a guy, last time I checked, and being Canadian doesn't mean you're too polite to accept sex when it's offered, right? Though, to tell you the truth," Sheppard leaned in and continued in a stage whisper, "I think you've blown the whole 'polite Canadian' stereotype to bits. Just in case you were wondering."
"I wasn't really worried about it, but thanks for telling me. Are you coming in or were you planning on talking me into submission first?" Rodney tugged at the zipper on his jacket and shrugged out of it as he made his way to the shower.
A muttered "My ego is unbelievable?" was barely audible over the soft whoosh of the outer door closing, quickly followed by the sound of what he assumed was Sheppard's jacket hitting the table Rodney used as a desk.
Rodney undressed, leaving a pile of clothes just outside the bathroom. Moments after he'd turned on the shower and stepped in, a hand circled Rodney's upper arm as Sheppard leaned his chin on the opposite shoulder.
"You're warm," Sheppard said, exhaling as he leaned against Rodney's back.
"Are you really that cold all the time? Need a heavier jacket?" Rodney braced himself on the tiled wall, closed his eyes and raised his face to the spray of water. It was coming from all directions, slightly harder than a gentle rain and much warmer, though not as hot as the man draped over him like he was too tired to stand any longer.
"No, it's just—this place, it's—" Sheppard paused, shifting so his forehead rested on Rodney's shoulder before continuing in a slightly muffled voice, "It's not exactly friendly, is it?"
Rodney sighed. "It really isn't."
"Some of the stuff we've found is really cool—the jumpers, your shield—but everything else here is pretty—"
"Terrifying?"
"Yeah."
Rodney reached for the soap and they stepped apart to wash in comfortable silence.
As he finished rinsing off, Sheppard's hand brushed his shoulder and his husky voice came from right behind Rodney again. "Talk you into submission? I'd like to point out for the record that I'm not the one who talks two hundred words a minute."
"Not my problem if you can't keep up."
"I'll keep up just fine, don't worry." Sheppard's hand slid down his chest, trailing slowly through the light dusting of hair. Rodney sucked in his stomach involuntarily as Sheppard's hand skimmed over it, and Sheppard snickered softly in his ear.
"Oh, shut up," Rodney groused. "Like you're not vain."
Sheppard's body shook against his back with barely-contained mirth. "Jesus, McKay, we're naked in the shower together and I have my hand on your dick. How much more obvious do I have to be?"
"Maybe if you actually did something with your hand I'd—oh yes, just like that." Rodney sighed with pleasure as Sheppard squeezed.
"You'd what?" Sheppard asked, nipping sharply at his earlobe.
"Ow!" Rodney scrunched up his shoulder to protect his ear from further abuse and their heads collided.
Sheppard half-groaned, half-laughed as he raised a hand to rub at his forehead. "Okay, ow, that hurt."
"And biting my ear off didn't? Who do you think you are, Mike Tyson?" Rodney rubbed at it, only to have Sheppard grab his hand and pull it away before leaning back in and placing a soft kiss on his earlobe.
"There. Better now?" Sheppard's breath was hot, even in the warmth of the shower, as he kissed down Rodney's neck to his shoulder.
Rodney moaned as Sheppard's other hand squeezed again before strong fingers stroked his penis from base to tip. Rodney leaned back and let Sheppard take his weight; he was floating, buoyed by the steam and Sheppard's arms, the stillness of the sleeping city interrupted only by the sound of water hitting the floor and the ragged pace of their breathing.
Rodney could almost imagine that they were the only two people alive in Atlantis, and God, wasn't that a terrifying thought. But it would open up a number of currently off-limits places to have sex. Rodney would bet that a puddle jumper—what a ridiculous name that was—would be the first semi-public place Sheppard would want to try out. Assuming they did this—
Release rushed over him without warning, surprising Rodney with its intensity. Sheppard kept licking and sucking on his neck, one arm still wrapped around Rodney's chest. He could feel the rhythm of Sheppard's movements as he started to jerk off; Rodney tried to help, but couldn't quite reach. "You're going to have to move if you want any assistance," he said as he grabbed Sheppard's arm and dragged him out from behind.
"It's okay, I've got—oh, yeah," Sheppard moaned as Rodney managed to move him enough to wrap his hand around Sheppard's, and the two of them quickly stroked Sheppard to completion together.
Rodney leaned forward, still panting like he'd run a marathon, resting his limp body against the slick tile. Sheppard's hand was soothing as he ran it down Rodney's back, a rhythmic lullaby that made him want to fall asleep right there.
"Hey."
"Hmmm?"
"Bed."
"Okay," Rodney sighed and forced his hands to push himself away from the wall. He moved a little too quickly and stumbled into Sheppard, who caught and steadied him. He stayed there, Sheppard's arms circling him, eyes closed and head on Sheppard's shoulder. They stood that way for a minute, chests rising and falling in sync as their bodies calmed down, before Sheppard spoke again, his voice deeper and rougher than normal.
"I think that entity drained you more than you think, McKay." Sheppard nudged him towards the door, hands firmly on Rodney's shoulders, guiding him through the blasts of hot air that dried them as they left the shower. "Are you sure it's okay for you to be in your quarters tonight instead of staying in the infirmary?"
"Can't sleep there, have to—" Rodney yawned and ran a hand over his face, scratching distractedly at the light scruff on his jaw, "—have to be somewhere there isn't a lot of noise so my brain will stop running in circles. Carson knows that."
"He'll check on you during the night, won't he?" Rodney felt Sheppard's naked body brush against him again as the other man reached around him to throw back the blankets on the bed.
"Yes." The beds here were surprisingly comfortable, Rodney thought as he crawled in and curled up on his side, more restful than he'd imagined their first night here—was that really only a few days ago? And while military-issue sheets would never win a world's softest material contest, they were warm, and the blanket was a comforting weight as he cocooned himself in it, leaving only his nose and the top of his head outside the covers.
A hand ruffled his damp hair, then tucked the blankets in more securely at his back. "Night, McKay."
Rodney woke the next morning with the sun in his eyes. He groaned and rolled over to bury his face in the pillow, and stretched an arm out toward the side of the bed. The blanket was warm from the sun filtering through the windows, and the heat felt marvelous on his bare arm and shoulders.
He stilled, then slowly turned so his cheek rested on the pillow and he could see his bare arm bathed in late-morning sunshine. No t-shirt. He rolled over again, onto his back. No boxers either, by the feel of it. He sighed and draped his arm over his eyes. Apparently it hadn't been a low-blood-sugar-induced hallucination.
Not that he was complaining. Well, not about the sex, anyway. It was not being coherent enough to have really enjoyed the sex that was the issue.
What he could remember clearly was nice. Sheppard's body had been warm everywhere it touched Rodney's, and his hands slightly rough but firm. And that smile he'd flashed around all day—so knowing, as if he had a direct line to what Rodney was thinking. Granted, Sheppard probably did have a pretty good idea, given what had occurred last night.
Rodney stretched languidly, enjoying the pull of muscles as they lengthened and relaxed. Sliding a hand beneath the covers, down over his stomach—such a ridiculous thing, vanity—he slowly stroked himself. Sheppard had an amazing body—which Rodney hadn't seen much of, but hoped to get a chance to explore in greater detail very soon—tall, lean and lithe, tanned and comfortable, the body of an athletic man who enjoyed active sports.
And Ferris wheels, Rodney thought with a grin as he came.
He relaxed in the sun for a few more minutes, his mind pleasantly quiet for once, then threw back the covers and headed to the shower.
Rodney didn't see Sheppard until after dinner.
He spent most of the day in his lab, unpacking crates of supplies, then tinkering with nothing more stressful than the personal shield—Carson's threat of a prostate exam during Rodney's check in earlier in the day had nothing to do with it, really—he'd just wanted to work on something that didn't require much thought.
The sound of the door opening drew his attention away from the device in his hand, and Rodney looked up to see Sheppard leaning in the doorway, arms crossed and an amused look on his face.
"Didn't that get you into enough trouble already?"
"I'm going with the idea that now that I know how it works, I won't get trapped. But it's just a theory," Rodney said with a wry grin.
"You seem to have a lot of those."
"It is what they pay me for, Major. I'd hate to disappoint."
Sheppard's smile changed to the private little grin Rodney had seen only a few times. "I can't imagine anyone being disappointed with you, McKay."
"Yes, well, when you're the best at what you do, there's all this pressure to be perfect. It's a tough job, but I usually manage to rise to the occasion."
"You certainly do." Sheppard nodded, slow and serious and completely unbelievable.
Rodney rolled his eyes. "Oh, now you're just mocking me."
"Of course I am, it's in my job description, didn't you know that?" Sheppard replied with a grin. "Can't let you get too full of yourself."
"You're twenty years too late, Major," Rodney said wryly.
A laugh escaped Sheppard. "I'll just have to work at it a little harder then, I guess." He moved to join Rodney at the table. "Want to play cards or something tonight?"
"'Or something'? You do realize you are the least subtle person on this planet, don't you?"
"No, that would be you, Rodney."
"Being subtle is a waste of time, as it generally causes people to miss the point."
"Yeah, I've noticed that most people don't have a problem figuring out your point when talking to you," Sheppard replied, making no attempt at all to conceal his amusement.
Rodney shook his head with a smile and started shutting down programs on his laptop. He glanced sideways at Sheppard and said, "Ten minutes, Major. My quarters."
Sheppard nodded, then turned to saunter out of the room. Rodney appreciated the view while it lasted, then finished shutting down the lab.
Rodney ran his hands across Sheppard's broad shoulders and back, digging his thumbs and the heels of his hands into the tense muscles. He stroked along the arms holding them both away from the wall of the shower, then around to Sheppard's wet chest. He leaned against Sheppard and dropped a kiss on the curve of a shoulder as he slid his hands down to Sheppard's hips, causing him to groan.
Sheppard shifted his weight to one arm and grabbed Rodney's hand, pushing it the rest of the way down to his groin, curving Rodney's hand around his dick. Rodney let Sheppard direct him, learning the pressure and hold that Sheppard liked. All too quickly they brought Sheppard to completion.
Sheppard shifted around, gathered Rodney closer, and leaned against the wall, arms wrapped loosely around Rodney's waist. Rodney buried his face in Sheppard's neck, closing his eyes and pressing closer, rubbing his body against Sheppard's, enjoying the feel of the cool tile under his hands and the hot, solid body along his front. Sheppard's hand pushed at the small of his back, increasing the pressure as Rodney thrust against his hip. Release rolled over Rodney, and he shuddered in Sheppard's embrace.
Rodney stood there for a minute, panting and leaning against Sheppard's relaxed and warm body, before he stepped back enough that Sheppard released him. He smiled and said, "That's much more fun when I'm awake enough to enjoy it."
"Yeah, I bet," Sheppard replied, his mouth slowly stretching to match Rodney's smile. "Want to play cards now?"
Rodney rolled his eyes. "Sure, why not?"
"Do you have any fives?"
Sheppard shook his head. "Go fish."
Rodney narrowed his eyes and glared at Sheppard before picking up a card. Sheppard gave him an innocent look in return.
"Any jacks?"
"You marked these cards, didn't you?" Rodney groused good-naturedly as he handed over two jacks. "Or you're counting them."
Sheppard heaved an exaggerated sigh as he laid four jacks down on the table. "Rodney, you can't count cards in Go Fish."
"I'm sure you'd find a way." Rodney tried to suppress his grin but failed abysmally.
"Yes," Sheppard replied, "because obviously I spend all of my free time figuring out how to cheat at children's card games. Any tens?"
Rodney shook his head and watched over the cards in his hand as Sheppard drew another card. Sheppard leaned back, lounging in the chair on the other side of the table with a rakish grin on his face, tapping the table with his cards as he waited for Rodney to take his turn. An eyebrow quirked in a silent question that Rodney answered with a smile and a slight shake of his head. Sheppard rolled his eyes. "Are you ever going to take your turn?"
"I'm figuring out my strategy, Major."
"There is no strategy to this game, McKay, you just hope your opponent has some of the cards you need. It's as straightforward as—as solitaire."
"Solitaire has hundreds of variations and many strategies for winning each one," Rodney replied.
"And, unlike Go Fish, you can cheat shamelessly at it."
"Unless you're playing on the computer. Any aces?"
Sheppard chuckled. "Nope. I'm surprised you haven't rewritten the code to fix that."
Rodney airily dismissed that and drew a card. "Not worth the effort."
"Uh hunh. Got any fives?"
Rodney narrowed his eyes at Sheppard, the disingenuous look on Sheppard's face belied by the smile tugging at his mouth.
"Cheater," Rodney said as he handed over three fives.
"Do you always resort to calling your opponents names when you're losing miserably? Any tens yet?"
"No. I wouldn't call it miserable, just—"
Sheppard drew another card. "Oh, come on, you'd need a miracle to win now, I've got two cards left to your three, and we're even on sets."
"Do you have any aces?"
Sheppard pulled a card out of his hand and tossed it toward Rodney. He picked it up to join the other three he held before smugly placing all four cards on the table in front of himself and spreading his empty hands.
A laugh escaped Sheppard as he tossed his last card face-down on the table and leaned back in his chair to look at Rodney with a teasing smile. "Not as good a Hail Mary as you pulled yesterday, but impressive. Are you sure you're not the one cheating?"
Rodney sniffed exaggeratedly, barely smothering his own grin as he gathered up the cards. "Why would someone of my calibre need to cheat, Major?"
"I haven't a clue." Sheppard's eyes remained fixed on Rodney as he tilted his head back to take the last sip of his beer. "Just like I don't know how a man could run into a situation that could easily cause his death, single-handedly save everyone with his actions, and not believe he's every bit as brave—if not more—as the guys who get paid to act the hero."
Rodney carefully set the deck on the table in front of Sheppard and grabbed his own beer to wet his suddenly dry mouth. "Obviously nobody else was capable of handling the situation and he knew it was up to him to save the day."
Sheppard picked up the deck and replied in the blandest, most purposefully disinterested tone of voice Rodney had heard come from the man yet. "Yeah, that must be it." Sheppard quickly shuffled and bridged the cards, his attention completely focused on his hands holding the cards as they fell into place. "So, Slap Jack or War next?"
"War. No sense in making it easy for you to count the cards." Rodney deliberately curled the corner of his mouth as Sheppard's eyes flicked up to meet his and then skittered back to the cards he was dealing.
Rodney caught the cards as they slid across the table, straightening them into a pile as he watched Sheppard pretend they hadn't just jumped into the deep end of the conversation pool.
It baffled him that Sheppard played dumb so often. The idea of downplaying his intelligence for any reason was an anathema to Rodney, and how Sheppard thought anyone was fooled he couldn't imagine. So really, what was the point?
"Counting cards? There you go, maligning my character again," Sheppard drawled as he turned over his first card.
Rodney snorted. "What're you going to do, call me out to put an end to it? Oh, I know, how about power bars at dawn?" He turned over a card, glanced at it and tossed it in Sheppard's direction. "Or maybe differential equations at sunset."
Sheppard's lazy smile made an appearance. "Death by derivatives. Think it'll work to defeat the Wraith?"
Oh yes, figuring out the conundrum named John Sheppard was definitely going to be an adventure.
Time for the ludicrously long author's notes. *g*
Thanks to:
Brighid and Medie, for answering my initial "How do you say this up there?" questions so graciously *g*;
Katya, for fabulous eleventh hour polishing *vbg*;
HG, for making sure any missed Americanisms were made into Canadianisms, cheerful friendship and support, porn on demand, and the sending of Canadian crack Tim Hortons coffee *vbg*;
Ridiculously huge thanks to Joan, who helps me keep my very tenuous grasp on sanity at while I'm at the Hellmouth work by not minding that I babble endlessly about fifty million different story ideas and always foist snippets from unfinished stories on her ("Read this! Now! Please!");
And as always (last but definitely not least), countless thanks to: Tiriel, Ophidiae and Veronica—without the amazing help, friendship and support each of you gives me so generously, I could never do this.
Feedback: email.