This story is not the one I have been working on for two fucking weeks. That one is at 23,000 words and counting. Kill me now. Or better yet, kill julad
, who keeps inflicting more plot ideas on me. This woman must be stopped, I tell you.
In the meantime, I share this small plotless bit, which manages in less than a thousand words to cover not one but *two* cliches I have already hit in other Stargate stories. Plus, it is arguably a Canadian shack story. But whatever, there is nothing new under the sun. *g*ETA:
just to note, this isn't connected to the larger story. It is stress relief from the larger story.
Many thanks to cesperanza
, and julad
for beta! Thirty Below
Spoilers for Sanctuary, takes place some vague time after that episode.
Summary: Not on the list.Thirty Below
Considering he was in an unheated shed and it was probably thirty below outside, John woke up feeling pretty damn good: warm, relaxed, head pillowed on somebody's shoulder, a big hand stroking his back. Then he noticed that a little more clearly. He'd climbed in with McKay and layered the blankets over them sometime during the night; he vaguely remembered doing it.
That part wouldn't have been a big deal, but what he didn't remember was when he'd gotten hot enough after that to throw off his jacket and t-shirt, or when he'd draped himself over Rodney like a rug. And now both of them were kind of hard, so this was about to get seriously embarrassing unless he could get them untangled before McKay woke up.
John propped his hands carefully on either side of the pillow and slowly tried to lift himself off. But it didn't work; McKay picked his head up abruptly, jerking to a stop about two inches away from John's face. His hand stopped moving.
Great. "Look, McKay," John began.
?" McKay said incredulously, staring at him. "You started with J. Lo from outer space, and I'm
next on your list? Do you even have a type, or is breathing good enough?"
"Hey!" John said. "Will you get over the damn thing with Chaya already? And you are not on my list, you are nowhere near my list, if I even had one!"
"I bet you keep it on your computer! With checkboxes or something -- astrophysicist comes right after alien. Get off me!"
"I was just trying to when you woke up!" John gritted his teeth and tried to get up again with a grunt.
"I didn't say get off, I said get off me
!" McKay managed to thrash in exactly the wrong direction and yank the blankets tight so John sprawled flat onto him again. "Oh, I can't believe this. You know, even if I wanted you, do you think I would lower myself -- "
yourself?" John said. "Listen, you son of a bitch -- "
"Insults, that's smooth," McKay said. "Does this technique usually work for you? Some verbal abuse, a little groping -- "
"I'm not hitting on you!"
"No wonder you have to rape defenseless astrophysicists," McKay said.
"Goddamnit, I was cold
!" John said, struggling to get his arms loose.
, you were cold
," McKay said, rolling his eyes. "I should have guessed that from the way you took off all your clothes before you started molesting me. Did you really think all you needed to do was hump me a few times and I'd say yes?"
"Yes, Rodney, that was it!" John said. "I thought to myself, we're offworld; we've got a private room, a little chilly maybe, but hey, it's early and we've got nothing better to do; I bet McKay would make out with me. But obviously you're not interested, so -- "
"Oh, fine, don't get huffy," McKay said.
"What?" John said, which was all he had time for before McKay rolled them over. And he hadn't been anything like warm before, not compared to this, with McKay's body smothering him into the cocoon of blankets and his mouth, God, morning-bitter but hot as a furnace, and his hand curling around the back of John's neck, tilting his head to just the right angle.
And only McKay could actually believe somebody was that hot for him, and he absolutely deserved to be shoved out of bed, except there was the slide of his tongue into John's mouth, the sweet pressure of his thigh, right there, and they really didn't have anything better to do. John groped for the zipper on McKay's shirt and yanked it open so he could pull Rodney down chest to chest, spread out his hands all over Rodney's back, feel the heat of his muscles working under the skin.
Rodney unzipped them both, and they worked their pants down; too cold to bother stripping all the way. Rodney was already thrusting against him, way ahead, coming: quick hot spurts all over John's stomach. Rodney crumpled but kept moving against him, breathing in humid gasps against his neck, and John wrapped his arms around his back and rubbed himself off until he came.
"You were cold
?" Rodney said afterwards, still into John's neck and still collapsed on top of him. "That was the best line you could come up with? Seriously, stick with honesty."
"Yeah," John said. "I'll do that."
Comments always much appreciated. *g*