Chapter Text
A collection of 40 standalone drabbles written for Team Peace on McShep Match Drabble Tree plus 3 offered as bribes for voting. The bold indicates the word or phrase 'leaf' I selected to sprout from.
Sweet Nothings
"Hey, buddy. Want to try one of my cookies? Jeannie showed me how to make meringues.
"Uh, no thanks, and can you just keep the plate over there? I mean way over there, maybe even back in the kitchen. I know they're just basically sugar and egg whites, but my mind keeps automatically inserting the word 'lemon' in front of 'meringue' and my throat closes up."
"I was afraid of that, so I came up with a Plan B. How about one of these instead?"
"What are they?"
"Sheppard family secret recipe. Triple chocolate chip."
"You're a genius. Marry me."
Flirting With Disaster
There were more than a few times when Rodney resented being stuck on Sheppard's team, forced to follow his lead into the nightmarish horror of diplomatic receptions as well as the ordinary everyday heart-stopping danger.
The problem was Sheppard was a shifting, dynamic presence, radiating heat and energy and, whenever the damn rakish-haired colonel sauntered by, Rodney suddenly became invisible to all the women in the room.
Then John would take his usual place next to Rodney and nudge him with his bony shoulder and grin, and Rodney would decide it wasn't so bad being on Sheppard's team after all.
Downgraded
"But Rodney, I don't understand. You were ascended. You knew all the secrets of the universe and had unlimited powers. Why did you return?"
"It's not as wonderful as you seem to believe, Radek. I mean, yeah, so I win at everything forever. Where's the challenge in that?"
"So you came back because you were bored being a god?"
"Hey, Rodney! Ready to get your ass kicked again? I've been working on the gear ratios and you're eating dust tonight."
"Hah! You'll be eating those words, Sheppard! Stupid flyboy. Now what were you saying, Radek?"
"Never mind. Forget I asked."
The Play's The Thing
"Sheppard, you have to be the worst casting director ever in the history of holiday pantomimes. Ronon as Sir Walter Raleigh is a fiasco by itself, but Teyla as Queen Elizabeth is…"
"I know you're not implying Teyla lacks regal bearing. That's ridiculous. Right, McKay?"
"She's standing behind me, isn't she?"
"Yep. Got her sticks with her, too."
"…is simply inspired. It's the only thing that's going to save this production from being complete disaster. Well done, Sheppard. I don't know what we'd do without you."
"Thanks, Rodney. I appreciate it."
"She gone?"
"Yeah."
"Asshole."
"But you still love me."
Fractal Fairytales
While other children were raised on stories promising the handsome prince would always prevail, Rodney read himself to sleep with equations promising nothing but the absolute truths hidden behind chaos. A bleak future, yes, but he couldn't bring himself to believe in imaginary numbers.
In an ice palace, a dark mass of cowlicks represented chaos while hazel eyes flirted suggesting Rodney revisit outdated proofs. He recalculated the odds that the other children had the right idea, but it didn't add up to ending very happy when his prince flew away.
A roll of divine dice and it all changed again.
Blind Devotion
John shuts his eyes hard, gasping at the effort it takes to pull himself back from the brink. He'd been able to keep it together when Rodney had pressed him up against the wall, strident voice and heavy muscle taut with impatience at any delay. Thick, blunt fingers hadn't undone him, measuring and stroking until John ached for release. It wasn't until he gazed into those wide blue eyes that opened wider still on John's glide into soft, tight, wet heat; it was then that his control was put to the test.
Eyes that will own John's dreams for life.
Slash and Burn
"You called me Snookums, Sheppard!"
"What the hell, McKay? I'd never be able to give the Marines orders with a straight face again if I used words like that."
"Seriously! I can deal with all those romantic moonlight picnics on the balcony and the kissing's good, damn good, especially that thing where you nibble. In fact, I can snuggle with the best because I'm confident in my masculinity, but the pet names have got to go. If Miko does it again, I'm pulling out the sparkly boots of OOC and kicking her out of the forum."
"Whatever you say, cupcake."
Patchwork Dreams
The edges of the quilt are a little frayed, faded and worn with age and many washings. It's wide enough to cover their bed and long enough to wind around them both on the chilly nights; Jeannie had made sure of that as she'd pieced together her creation of geometric memories. Concealed by kind moonlight, gnarled fingers stroke not-cotton and almost-linen while weary eyes seek the fabrics' origins in the distant constellations. Each treasured piece holds a story; tales of clothing torn in battle, souvenirs and gifts, rewards and bequests.
They are bound together forever, kept warm by their past.
Angel Cake
"I've never done this before," Rodney whispers, his voice sounding as unsteady as his legs feel. His eyes widen as he watches his lean-bodied visitor check the locks on the door and then prowl across the carpet toward him. A silk tie is hanging loosely from his hand and two buttons of his shirt are undone, a few dark curls contrasting against white linen.
Rodney's heart stops as the mysterious stranger grins and leans close enough that his warm breath tickles along Rodney's neck to his ear. Then he hears, "I have," and knows he's died and gone to heaven.
Winning At Life
"So what you're trying to tell me is the Nobel Prize isn't really what you want most out of life. Who are you, and what have you done with Rodney McKay?"
"Oh, how very clever you aren't. Listen, I'm not saying it isn't in the top three or four, but I like to think I've matured over the years and there are other things equally, possibly even more, important."
"Really? What are they?"
"That's…private."
"Come on, you can tell your best friend, can't you? It's family, right?"
"Sure, and friends and…uh…you, love…you."
"Me? Not Jennifer? That's…cool."
"And that's number one."
Hard Lesson
They say it every night.
There was a time they couldn't speak at all. The words would shrivel in their throats, fear of final rejection or legal consequence choking back any display of emotion.
It was in their eyes when they watched, the brush of a hand, a smile, but one mistake and archaic conventions would tear them a galaxy apart.
Then Death stood too close to them, one too many times, and bitter regret stepped in.
The rules haven't changed, so they take what little solace they can risk.
They say it every night.
And then walk away untouched.
See You In the Funny Papers
"I told you not to touch that!"
"It looked perfectly harmless, Rodney."
"Hello, typical whacked-out Ancient laboratory. Nothing is harmless, as evidenced by this…whatever fresh hell this is! Look at you! Quick, I need a mirror."
"Uh…I have…. Here. Don't lose it."
"Right, there's a chance you'll actually be able to comb that stupid hair. Why would they want to transform into cartoons? I'm...cute! Everything's round, fingerless, red cheeks and you with the hair and wristband…. We're anime!"
"Actually, I think we're chibis."
"I don't know what disturbs me more, Colonel; turning into 'chibis' or you actually knowing the difference."
Drive Me Crazy Sometimes
Rodney could have asked for the address.
He'd listened to John explain about the trip to Dave's place, and then he mentioned he was thinking about visiting Jeannie and that was it. John knows it's his own damn fault for not asking, but still thinks Rodney could have made it easier somehow.
The flight is noisy and crowded and lonely, but then John walks off the plane and there he is, crooked grin in place. He tosses John a set of keys and has a good laugh at his expression.
"Jeannie says 'Hi,' and I went with the Porsche."
On the Air
"Yeah, that's a great song. It went naquadah in less than a light-year. Oh and hey! We're live again here at ALTS - Radio Atlantis - and speaking with everyone's favorite heroic couple, Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard and Dr. Rodney McKay! Say, why don't you two lovebirds share with all our listeners out there in the Pegasus Galaxy just how you met?"
"Well, first I shot him and then I shoved him right off a balcony."
"Rodney? Rodney? Wake up. You're crying in your sleep."
"John? God, what a nightmare. Remind me to never let Chuck near the karaoke machine again."
Prison Break
Naked, lacking hair as useful as Ronon's, John carefully grasped the sharp blade of the broken knife between his teeth and started climbing. Despite the darkness, he somehow managed to find hand and footholds in crumbling mortar, his focus the pinpoint of light overhead promising freedom.
As he climbed, John reviewed Kolya's mistakes. He'd wasted time gloating about what he was going to do to McKay, hadn't killed John before throwing him in the well, and kicked a weapon away thinking it useless.
John's going to get out.
He's going to get Rodney back.
He won't make the same mistakes.
Fair Play
"Kiss, Unca!" With a chubby hand on each cheek, Torren holds Rodney still and, with his nose wrinkled and drooling mouth pursed, kisses him, clumsy but infinitely sweet.
John watches creases at the corners of Rodney's eyes deepen and an aggravated furrow begin to form between his brows, but then his face relaxes and he changes his reaction to a simple 'Thanks, kid' and a swipe across his mouth with the back of a hand. John snickers, Rodney meets his eyes over Torren's head, and John's seen that evil grin before.
Rodney turns Torren around and points. "Uncle John's turn."
The Gambler
"Ready to place your bets on what's going to go wrong this time?" Lorne's teasing carried into the front compartment of the jumper, closely followed by suggestions of volcanic eruptions, wraith worshippers and, if they were lucky, sex pollen.
Rodney called back, "There are too many variables to predict this early in the mission. You're wasting your money."
"There are a few things that can be guaranteed to cause trouble," Lorne insisted. "Like your big mouth, McKay."
"Some people like the size of my mouth." Rodney's chin went up, John slid down in his seat, and Lorne's team just snickered.
A la Carte
"No, no, no, that's totally wrong. What kind of idiots are you working with over there? I've spent weeks with you online and over the phone and it's not that difficult…."
"You know, I think we could work this out better face-to-face. Maybe over dinner?"
"I…sure. Dinner's probably a good idea. No citrus, though, Sheppard. I'm deathly allergic."
"That's John, remember? I know a great steakhouse with a microbrewery. Pick you up at the office at seven?"
"Here? Okay."
"Cool. Oh, and Rodney? Fair warning. I checked you out on the company website, and I'm really looking forward to dessert."
Home on the Range
It's not a bad life really, now that they've gotten used to living without the constant threat of the Wraith. Rodney's finally able been to admit it was worth the loss of Atlantis. There are times he's surprised at how little he misses of his past life. He keeps himself busy with designing low-tech automation for shearing, cleaning, and weaving the almost wool they trade through the gate, while John happily tends to their herd.
The best part is, when he looks out their window, he sees blue skies, lush fields, and John looking back at him and smiling.
Visiting Hours
The lock releases with a buzzed click and John cautiously pushes inside. Rodney's on the other side, blue eyes cold and distant, complaining, "You're late. I follow a tight schedule."
John winces. "Flight was delayed."
Turning with a jerk, Rodney precedes him down the hall, stopping at a door. "Your room, Colonel. Your letter didn't mention how long you're staying."
"Rodney, don't," John sighs.
His mouth's a familiar stubborn line. "I have everything under control, John."
"You…." Dropping to his knees in front of the wheelchair, John buries his face in Rodney's lap, pleading, "Please. Take care of me, too?"
Out of Character
Squaring his shoulders, John stepped out of the alcove where he'd been sent to change by the temple's high priest. His team stood there with their eyes wide and mouths a little ajar; staring above his face like he was naked or his hair was green. Impatient to get the whole ridiculous thing over with, he huffed "What? Haven't you ever seen anyone in a toga before?"
Teyla recovered first, her smile serene as she apologized. "I am sorry, John. It was just a little…unexpected."
Ronon nodded in agreement. "Yeah. It…."
"Looks ridiculous!" Rodney snorted. "A halo? After last night?"
Chaos Theory
John's fingers itch sometimes when he looks at Rodney's desk.
The piles of messy paper, stacks of out-dated journals, random equations scribbled on napkins and coffee-stained receipts; they all trigger John's need to organize. Unfortunately, his life was threatened after his first aborted attempt to impose his notion of order in place of Rodney's mental map.
Finally, he concedes the battle and settles for mounting a sign on the wall above, a bright rainbow of letters; "Caution: Genius at Work. Disturb at Own Risk."
Then he proceeds to do exactly that.
After all, their first kiss happened under fire.
Return to Sender
John paused in the doorway of what had been their room and watched Rodney folding clothes. He smiled when he recognized other possessions he'd left behind, empty cardboard boxes stacked against the wall.
Rodney jumped when John cleared his throat, looking up dismayed. "You're back. Early," he stammered, dropping John's shirt. "I know you told me not to wait for you, to put your things in storage, but...."
"You wanted to put everything back," John finished, walking closer. When Rodney stiffened, John looked around the room again, puzzled. Suddenly understanding, he pulled Rodney in, whispering fiercely, "It's okay. Stop packing."
Rune Warrior
"I have to admit that I'm jealous as hell that she had her hands all over you, but watching that, God, I'm so fucking turned on," Rodney whispers as he traces the lines of ebony and scarlet recounting epic battles across the landscape of John's back. "I just hope this doesn't smear too badly."
John arches back against Rodney, the ache between his legs on the edge of agony after hours enduring teasing brushes and leather restraints. The pressure isn't enough and he groans, "I don't care if I end up looking like a goddamn abstract painting, Rodney. Fuck me."
Sales Pitch
"Hey, buddy. Here for the free trial?"
"No, a favor for my sister. Where's the pickup counter located?"
"What's the big deal? Just give it a try, and I promise you won't be sorry. Besides, there's a money-back guarantee."
"The big deal is that I've never wanted to try one of these before and a money-back guarantee obviously means nothing if it's a free trial. Do you actually listen to what you're saying or is the hair interfering with your reception?"
"I really like how your mouth does that. Dinner?"
"That really works for you?"
"Usually."
"Okay, but no citrus."
Clothes Make the Man
By his precise calculations, Rodney predicted that John would be through the door in three…two….
"Rodney!"
One.
Rodney learned early in his career that pretending innocence is a snap when a very complex computer program spits out fake statistics requiring your attention every few seconds. His response was pitch-perfectly absentminded. "Mmmm? Something I can help you with, Colonel?"
"My closet's stuck again. I'm due at the Silesian reception in less than an hour!"
"Oh, is that the one with that lady ambassador who liked your…."
"Damn it, Rodney. You can't hold my dress uniform hostage every time you get jealous!"
Hide and Seek
Cautious footsteps approached and he pressed himself back into the shadows, waiting. They paused for a moment and then he heard a muttered, "Where the hell did he go?"
Feeling a wave of relief, he reached out to grab Rodney by the vest and dragged him close, covering his sputtering mouth. "Quiet," he hissed. "They'll hear you."
Rodney tugged at the hand until he could whisper back, "Who, John?"
"Them." Tucking Rodney behind him, John warned, "They can't find us."
"There's no one out there except Teyla and Ronon."
"Exactly."
"It's going to be one of those nights, isn't it?"
Logical Choice
"So this is the whole 'lady or tiger' conundrum except it's not a voluptuous blonde and a tiger and really I wouldn't have hesitated on that one because at least I could look at her while I was dying but you've set me up with the choice between potentially choking to death due to some unknown ingredient in a voodoo potion or guaranteed impalement by those very sharp-looking not-quite-spears…."
"Or we just could go home."
"There you are, Colonel. What took so long? I'm telling you I could be standing here dead waiting for…."
"McKay, get in the damn jumper."
Closing Cost
They'd looked at a dozen houses, but none had seemed to be quite right. There'd been a couple John had thought he could live with, but Rodney had vetoed them for one reason or another. Standing on the porch of the latest likely to be vetoed, Rodney suddenly bent down to pet the cat winding around his legs, speaking in an indulgent tone as he asked its name.
John knew it was a good omen when the owner of the house explained it was a stray, and Galileo purred in Rodney's arms as they signed the offer for the house.
Best Foot Forward
"So that's it? It's over?" Rodney sputtered, a look of dismay spreading across his face.
"I'm truly sorry that I can't do more to help." Her smile became even more apologetic, and aimed entirely at Rodney. "It's not that you're not both gifted, in your own ways. Sometimes it's simply a case of choosing the wrong partner."
"But we've worked so hard…."
John grabbed Rodney's flailing hand, squeezing gently, and then smiled and nodded at her. "We appreciate the honesty. So we'll skip learning a routine for the first dance thing and feed each other lots of wedding cake instead."
Only the Lonely
Sometimes he dreams of Siberia and Antarctica and the kind of sharp, bitter cold that settles deep in the bones and he shivers in his sleep, despite days trudging through desert heat.
Sometimes he dreams of endless days and nights with computers and whiteboards and immutable numbers and of the solitude that gnawed at the edges of genius in self-imposed exile.
Sometimes he dreams of a teasing grin and laughing eyes and hair defying description, of the person who insists on more than he'd ever dreamed possible.
Then he wakes to warmth, hears his whispers, feels his desire, and smiles.
Wishful Thinking
Though the quiet beeps and antiseptic smells seem familiar, Rodney's unconvinced he isn't still curled up in the corner of his cell dreaming like he does so often during the dark, freezing nights. Opening his eyes helps calm his suspicion, especially when it's to the one face he'd wanted so much to see one more time before the end. Somehow, he manages to rasp, "I'm…home? Atlantis?"
John nods. "Yeah. You are." He's holding Rodney's hand right there in the infirmary, as if it didn't matter that someone might see.
Rodney closes his eyes in despair, knowing it can't be real.
Do You Believe In Magic?
The wizard peered deep into the scrying glass, wishing he'd found time to work on those dual-mounted hand-held miniature telescopes. He located the invading forces and adjusted the focus to zoom in on their leader. Despite the limitations of his own vision, the wizard was soon convinced of the black knight's identity.
Galvanized into action, he began to pack the scrolls and potions he'd require in the coming battle, mumbling compression spells under his breath to fit more into the valise than it could normally hold because he knew he wouldn't be back.
Sir John would make certain of that.
Pardon Me
John was slouched on a lab stool, staring at nothing. He didn't stir when the door opened, not until a frustrated, "Do you know how long I've been looking for you?" caused his shoulders to hunch even further.
Despite his resolution to ignore the angry scientist, John couldn't prevent the automatic softening of dread-stiffened muscles under warm, clever fingers. After a few minutes of unusually quiet ministrations, he sighed and relaxed backwards, confident he'd be supported by soft-padded muscle. The fingers shifted to his scalp, dispelling long-held tension with soothing circles.
He closed his eyes, thankful he'd been forgiven.
Missing Person
The denizens of Atlantis hum and swirl around him, faces and voices urgent, movements abrupt, everyone hurrying to pass him by as if Rodney's a ghost. He tries several times, but he can't get anyone to tell him what's going on, what the latest emergency is, why he wasn't called in to help.
Suspicion settles in and he heads for the control room, hoping to find Sheppard, but neither he nor Elizabeth are there. Rodney decides the infirmary is his next logical choice.
He steps inside, looks up at the ring of faces around his bed, and says, "Found you."
To the Mattresses
"Warned you not to drop your guard," Ronon growled, offering a hand. With a smooth jerk he had Rodney back on his feet, albeit a little unsteady. "You'll be fine." With a hearty clap to Rodney's shoulder, he returned back across the room to continue his solo practice with knives.
Rodney turned at a choked sound behind him, one hand pressed against his reddening cheek, where John had hit him. His tirade about training scientists in stick-fighting evaporated at the look in John's eyes. He even managed a half-smiling nod at John's winced, "Ice?"
His reward was John's grin promising more.
Technical Specifications
John wondered when exactly he'd begun to wear his emotions on his face, clear to everyone. He'd once prided himself on his skill at poker and stonewalling superior officers, not to mention negotiating with aliens, felt smug at how often he'd left his opponents scrambling for clues to his secrets.
He was obviously slipping when an arrogant scientist with almost zero social skills was able to read John like some large-print book, one without anything longer than four-letter words.
Then again, maybe it wasn't such a bad change, especially when those words happened to be 'kiss,' 'bed,' 'fuck,' or 'now.'
Send In The Clowns
Joyful shrieks approved the splash of freezing liquid soaking John to the skin, adding to the insane cacophony that had become John's life over the past four hours. He was shuddering, stretched to the breaking point, more from the terrifying image facing him than the weapon's temperature. It was straight out of his worst nightmare, the one that would leave him clutching Rodney tight in the hope that he could save John from his demons.
It didn't help to finally hear, "Let's have a nice round of applause for the birthday girl's Uncle John, shall we?"
Thankfully, Rodney's hug did.
Court Jester
One brow rose above kohl-enhanced eyes, a signal that the newly-crowned monarch was becoming impatient at the delay. The nervous vizier clapped his hands and ordered, "Bring the newest slave immediately to attend to His Most Serene Highness."
The slave seemed reluctant to comply, his objections strident behind his escort of harem guards. "I'm telling you I'm not going to make this guy happy. Why don't you pick a pretty one, instead of wasting my brain on peeling grapes or…."
His Highness drawled, "Rodney, get in here."
The slave's head popped up, eyes wide. "John?"
"About time you showed up."
Bad Penny
"I keep forgetting to ask why you decided on a Ferris wheel for your company's logo, Rodney. I mean, how does a carnival ride translate to a dotcom?"
"It doesn't, Sam. It's there to remind me of something I learned the hard way the summer before I started at MIT."
"Really? What was it?"
"To stay as far away as possible from anyone who'll give up everything so that they can fly."
"Ouch, I'm kind of sorry I asked. That reminds me, though, we have a new pilot coming into the program next week. Turns out he has the gene."
The following three were written as bribes to vote for Peace. :-D
For: equusentric who requested McShep and Oreos
ISO
The post-it stuck to his laptop wasn't unexpected, neither were the words penned in a familiar scrawl, "Find me." What caught Rodney's attention were a few pieces of dark matter scattered across it, sweet-tasting crumbs that reminded him of late nights hiding under sheets with a flashlight and the latest issue of Batman.
A pre-programmed life-signs detector narrowed the search down to a few choices. The most logical bore fruit in the form of a messy-haired colonel sprawled across Rodney's bed, holding a tempting package and wearing nothing but dog tags and a chocolate-flavored smirk.
He was willing to share.
For: ailurophile6 who requested McShep with Rodney finally getting a clue
Light Bulb
Radek looked over at Rodney's workstation and winced. The other man was fuming, supported by the abuse of his keyboard. Sighing, Radek queried, "Something wrong?"
"Nothing important," Rodney snapped. "Just Sheppard canceling our game and the mess out of my favorite pudding."
"Important enough to ruin equipment over," remarked Radek.
"Of course it…." Rodney paused to consider Radek's point. His puzzled face suddenly cleared when the missing colonel appeared bearing two pudding cups.
"Too late for our game?" Sheppard asked tentatively.
Closing his laptop, Rodney smiled an answer. "No." He glanced at Radek, nodding, admitting, "And yes, it's very important."
For: me_ya_ri who requested McShep, Ronon POV on them
Buried Treasure
"He's more than you think you see. Give him a chance, he'll grow on you."
Sheppard seems a good leader, so Ronon watches to find his own truth.
As time passes, he learns of a mind that sparks bright in the dark of circumstance, a heart filled with courage concealed behind stammered fears, and dogged perseverance despite a body that fails warrior standards. There's more to the man reserved for Sheppard alone; laughter over a shared game, sharp bickering hiding warm smiles, furtive touches of relief and grieving late-night vigils.
Ronon's found his truth; he protects both leader and mate.