Fair warning, there's a reason some of these are deadibones. They are Not Good, but I can't bring myself to just delete them. (I still kind of love them anyway :)
Title: 5 Dead SGA Stories
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard, various others
Warning: These are all unfinished works-in-progress that will likely never progress any further.
Note: If anyone actually wants to play with one of these? Knock yourself out.
When John stepped off the Daedalus's shuttle, he'd half expected to be met by Rodney. Not that Rodney would actually be standing there waiting for him, of course, but that there'd be some urgent diagnostic that just had to be run in the jumper bay right around the time the shuttle was due to land, and Rodney would be clunking around with his new sonic screwdriver or whatever the hell it was he'd invented while John had been away, and bitching about being surrounded by morons as he worked. Then, when John was about half-way across the jumper bay, Rodney would just happen to look up from underneath a console, catch his gaze, and say something casually insulting, like--Back from skiving off already, Colonel? I thought it had been strangely quiet and peaceful lately--or--For God's sake, eat something! You look like a scarecrow. Do you not understand the concept of a holiday? It's meant to replenish you, not leave you looking like Callista Flockhart's anorexic twin brother!--something reassuringly Rodney-esque like that. And then Ronon would kick Rodney's foot, and Teyla would say something sly that would have Rodney crawling out from under the console just in time to take part in a team moment that might even go so far as some manly hugging. A month was a long time for John to have been away, so a bit of manly hugging would be entirely understandable. Not that John had expended a lot of thought on it or anything.
But when the shuttle finally, finally landed and John stepped out, Atlantis's sweet hum filling his head the moment his foot hit the deck, the only people waiting for him were Elizabeth and Lorne.
John flicked a quick look around the bay, taking in the organised chaos of all the newbies being processed by Sergeant Sanchez and Doctor Heightmeyer. There was definitely no Rodney anywhere to be seen, and likewise no Teyla or Ronon. Some of the relief at finally being home turned inside out and became the first uneasy squirm of worry.
As John crossed the customs line into the sane side of the jumper bay, Lorne saluted, and said, "Welcome back, Colonel." Beneath his usual stoic expression, John got the distinct impression of heartfelt relief. He barely had time to nod in acknowledgment before Elizabeth stepped forward and hugged him with a fierceness he hadn't been expecting; John hugged back awkwardly, impeded by the duffel still slung over his shoulder.
"It's good to have you home, John," she said.
Past Elizabeth's head, John saw Carson hurry into the jumper bay looking dishevelled and stressed.
"Good to be--" John got out, and then Carson practically teleported across the room, saying, "Oh, thank God!" and proceeded to grab John out of Elizabeth's arms and into a clumsy hug that was much less practiced than Elizabeth's and not nearly manly enough for John's taste.
"Okay," said John, pushing Carson away when the hug showed no signs of coming to a natural end. "You're all seriously freaking me out. What the fuck is going on? And where the hell is my team?"
Carson, Elizabeth and Lorne all shared a significant look, and John was about to throw a hissy fit worthy of Rodney, when Elizabeth turned to him and said, "My office."
And it was at that moment--as the squirm of unease turned into the adrenaline rush of panic--that John really knew that he was home.
A Legal Alien
It's a lot like being a movie star, John decides, except without the $10,000 appearance fees or the phalanx of handy bodyguards between him and the paparazzi.
He gives up on going out after the whole pizza and a movie fiasco with Rodney and Carson; he just doesn't need another front page with his face on it, especially not combined with a headline like, "Menage a trois: the new gay?"
Carson skedaddles to Scotland, his face blushing with a constancy that's a little disturbing.
Rodney doesn't seem to care.
No, that's a lie. Rodney is lapping it up: calling press conferences and describing everyone, everyone in the physics communities he's ever fucking heard of a moron. John's heard four different news anchors saying the words "Nobel Prize" in the same sentence as Rodney's name; it's starting to lose its amusement value.
John just wants to go home. The only trouble with that plan is that he hasn't had a home anywhere on Earth for going on twenty-seven years now.
The institutional-grey of the walls is slowly driving him insane, Atlantis has never seemed further away, and it's looking more and more like he's going to be trapped inside Cheyenne Mountain for the duration of his leave, unless he wants a do-over of the pizza-thing, or probably something even worse by now. He's pretty sure the press are camped outside the gates, if General O'Neill's expression is anything to go by.
For about 2.5 seconds, he considers calling his father. He even pulls his Stargate-issued cell-phone out of his pocket, but the moment his finger rests on the first digit it feels like a Wraith Queen has her hand on his chest and is sucking away every atom of his lifeforce.
Yeah. So scratch that spectacularly bad idea.
He puts the phone away again and goes to splash cold water on his face.
After that, several days pass in a monotonous blur that doesn't really register. He snaps into a moment of lucidity during his 5,305th game of minesweeper: his eyes are gritty, his mouth is gummy, and he needs to piss. When he gets to the bathroom, he realises he hasn't showered in a couple of days.
He strips off, leaving his clothes in a puddle where they fall. Being naked feels like being reborn, and the water feels cool and soothing against his skin; it's almost like being back on Atlantis.
Once he's out of the shower, he stares at himself in the mirror for a long time. The stubbled face looking back is pasty and exhausted. "Fuck this," he tells himself, and picks up his shaving kit and toothbrush. He goes back into the other room and dumps them into his duffel, then stuffs his civvies in as well. He suspects that if he doesn't see sky today he'll lapse into a terminal-boredom coma.
Last time he was on Earth he didn't have this problem; he just signed out one of the cars from the pool and went on a road trip. Of course, that was BD: Before Declassification.
Before the SG-fucking-C made him their fucking posterboy.
For the first time since he set foot on Atlantis, John misses McMurdo. It was kind of cramped and cliquey, but it was so far away from anywhere else. There wasn't any news; there weren't any reporters. He wonders if there's anywhere else on the planet isolated enough to be beyond the reach of the press. Anywhere that he can actually get to inside of eight days.
He gets another clutch in his chest then, but it's not the horrible empty suck of despair this time. It's the seductive pull of nostalgia.
After a couple of minutes mulling it over, he figures, why the hell not?
It takes about ten minutes on Google to find an email address, and that's mainly because he has to try twice before he remembers the correct spelling of Aunt Judith's married name. Once he has the address, he has no idea what to write. That's why he hasn't ever tried to get in touch before now.
His hand presses against stubble as he remembers that moment at the wake, when Aunt Judith, sweet with the smell of fresh lavender and rosemary, had kissed his soft, pre-pubescent cheek and told him he'd always be family. The kindness in her voice had almost made him cry, but he'd been too aware of his father's gaze to let himself be weak. Somehow he'd swallowed it down and nodded instead, wordless. He'd never had another chance to say anything, never saw her again after that, and her birthday cards and Christmas presents had dried up after the third or fourth move.
In hindsight it's clear enough that his father had always hated Judith, and it's that adult understanding of events that finally sways John. He still has no idea what to say, but he forces himself to type anyway, even when what comes out is the lamest thing ever:
Hi Aunty Judith,
I hope this is the right address. I figure there can't be all that many Judith Winstone's in Badgingarra (I still can't believe that's a real name). I know it's been a long time since I've been in touch and I'm sorry about that. I've always been crap at writing letters, and I never knew what to say to you, so I just kind of didn't say anything. Which isn't really an excuse, I know. Anyway, I figure it's never going to get easier, and my life has already hit its maximum weirdness capacity, so if I'm ever going to get back in touch, this is the time to do it.
You've probably heard that I've been stationed...
He hesitates out of habit, then goes ahead and writes the truth. No reason for lies anymore.
off-world, but I have some time free over the next week or so before I go back to Atlantis. I know it's a big ask, but I was wondering if I could come visit. I'd only be a few days. I don't have much leave.
God, this is a dumb plan, isn't it? I'm giving you no notice at all. You probably won't even get this in time. But I'm sending it anyway, right now, before I'm overcome by saner second thoughts.
He hits send before he can chicken out. The screen blinks, telling him the message has gone. As soon as he logs out, the manic high starts to bleed away, leaving him wrecked and aimless. He staggers over to his unmade bed and crawls in, conking out before he can even worry about what he's done.
John finally realised there was something kind of... queer going on when the third lesbian in as many days came out to him.
Lucky number three, Captain Lopez, was standing in front of his desk, shoulders back, chin up, laying it out for him like verbal machine-gun fire. Her voice was steady, she looked completely solid and unflappable as she spoke, and he could only tell she was nervous because she was making way too much eye contact--as though she had him pegged as a sucker for that particular frank, wide-eyed look.
The other two had been nervous as well--even the civilian--but as far as he could tell, it had all been situational. None of their fear was directed at him. Quite the opposite, in fact. They'd all looked at him like he was some kind of lebian cavalry division, ready and willing to take on all comers in the name of gay rights.
He still wasn't quite sure what to make of that, although it was good to know his people trusted him.
"I'm sorry to bother you with it, Sir," Captain Lopez finished up, "I know it puts you in an awkward situation, but I don't want Maria to get hurt, and the creep just won't leave her alone."
"You did the right thing bringing it to my attention," John said, wondering how to tactfully get more information out of her. "I'll look into it."
Lopez beamed at him. "Thank you, Sir."
John wasn't a big fan of kissing. It wasn't that he actively hated it or anything, just that he'd rather do something with more payoff, like oral sex or fucking. Kissing always made him think of bad oral hygiene and the way his aunt Susan had been able to take her teeth out and put them in a glass of water by the bed at night. There was always a part of him that dreaded kissing someone, only to have their teeth fall into his mouth. And, yes, it was an unreasonable dread, but that didn't make it any less real. The other things kissing made him think about, usually when women started talking about taking him home to meet their folks, was swelling musical scores in bad date movies and weddings and other aspects of the whole Cinderella myth, like happily ever after. He'd lived through a couple of decades of his parent's marriage, and frankly, didn't find the whole wedded bliss idea terribly convincing, and if that made him a feminist, well, long live equal pay for equal labour and the abolition of the sexual double standard. John was down with that.
Feminist or not, in John's experience women expected kissing as part of foreplay, and as he was as interested in sex as the next guy he'd spent a fair amount of time mastering the art. And, ironically enough, it was his anti-kissing preference which made him really fucking good at it: he was entirely focused on his partner's pleasure, stroking and sucking and biting them until they melted into a turned-on puddle of hormones. In fact, on one memorable occasion he'd made Lois Tsu come, just by kissing her while she was fully-clothed and writhing on top of him in the back seat of his best friend's car during a drive-in marathon of the Star Wars movies.
And maybe he should have remembered that night with Lois Tsu before he'd casually agreed to kiss Rodney in the Xin!ian's hinky "brotherhood" ceremony.
cupidsbow: So. It all begins one day when Rodney says, "Have you ever noticed how totally predictable our lives have become?"
cupidsbow: The team just boggles at him.
vegetariansushi: hee. this can't end well
cupidsbow: "What, with the random Genii attacks?" says John.
cupidsbow: "And the constant threat of the Wraith," says Teyla.
cupidsbow: Ronon just kind of snorts, but it's a snort that says, My entire people thought that. Right before the planet was crushed.
vegetariansushi: 'And the lack of blue jello?' says Ronon?
vegetariansushi: sorry. my funnies are only funny to me, as a rule. i will stop interjecting them.
cupidsbow: Don't stop! That's part of the fun of storytime.
cupidsbow: Rodney waves aside their objections. "Yes, yes. Constant threat of death on a weekly basis. Blah, blah. It would be more of a shock at this point if we weren't attacked."
cupidsbow: As though to counterpoint his argument, a native pops her head up from behind a rock outcrop and a moment later the team is being bombarded by arrows.
cupidsbow: Rodney continues with his theory in the infirmary. "And it's not just the relentless regularity of sudden death situations," he says as Carson stitches up his arm. "And ow. Have you been taking lessons in inflicting pain, because yes, you are the master!"
cupidsbow: John just kind of grunts as Dr Sihn extracts the arrow from his butt. "Do you have a point, Rodney?"
cupidsbow: "Not really," says Rodney. "I just wish things would go a little differently for a change."
vegetariansushi: aw, rodney
vegetariansushi: poor thing. bored to almost-death
cupidsbow: Yes. It's sad.
cupidsbow: Anyway, John is sarcastic, Carson tortures Rodney a bit more. Same old, same old. Except of course for the bit of sentient entropy hanging around that goes... *wish granted*.
cupidsbow: PX6-112: Ronon accidentally breaks the Fillalian's most sacred taboo. The village elder says, "The options are," and he helpfully ticks them off on his fingers, "Death for your whole team of godless infidels...."
cupidsbow: John says, "Door number two?"
cupidsbow: Elder, ticking with ill-concealed glee: "Ritual cleansing."
cupidsbow: "Oh, fine," snaps Rodney and starts taking off his tac vest. "Which position? Do we both have to come?"
vegetariansushi: *waits in a not-patient way*
cupidsbow: The priest gives him an odd look. "It must be the sinner," he points to Ronon, "and the woman of his choice, sharing their devotion for the glory of our people."
cupidsbow: Rodney blinks a bit and says a weak, "Oh."
cupidsbow: John says quietly to Teyla, "What about... I mean..." and he makes a motion that is less lewd than fecund.
cupidsbow: "I am sure we will find a way," she says, lifting an eyebrow at Ronon, who grins at her wolfishly.
cupidsbow: PJ7-445: The team has split in two. John and Teyla heading off to deal with the locals, while Rodney and Ronon follow an interesting energy reading.
cupidsbow: Rodney and Ronon end up in a beautiful flowery meadow.
vegetariansushi: ...of sex pollen?
cupidsbow: One of the flowers gently opens in the breeze, and spurts pollen all over Rodney and Ronon.
cupidsbow: Ronon just stands there for a moment, shaking his head, and then his eyes glaze over and he takes a step towards Rodney.
cupidsbow: Rodney drops the scanner. "Oh, fuck! I *told* John you should have gone with Teyla!" And then the fever takes him and he pounces on Ronon, stripping him quickly and sucking his cock like a porn star.
cupidsbow: All the way back in the jumper, Rodney plucks at his clothes. "I feel so dirty," he whinges. "I can't believe that happened!"
cupidsbow: Neither John nor Teyla laugh, but their eyes are shining. Ronon just stares at Rodney as though he's a tub of blue jello.
vegetariansushi: (for some reason, jello references are never not funny to me in this fandom)
cupidsbow: MJ7-007: The device is stuck to Rodney's hand like superglue. Even John's gene won't convince it to disengage.
cupidsbow: "Oh," says Rodney, staring at it in panic. "This can't be good!"
cupidsbow: The High Priestess gives him a lofty look, clearly relegating him to moron status. "If you did not wish to be married, you should not have touched the bonding device!"
cupidsbow: "Bonding device," Rodney squeaks, clinging desperately to John's sleeve. "I have to get *bonded*?"
cupidsbow: "It is the only way to remove the device once engaged," the High Priestess says. Reluctantly she adds, "You may borrow one of our novices if you have no partner. Once the bond is complete, we can petition the Ancients for a dissolution of the bond." She sniffs meaningfully. "They may be kind."
cupidsbow: "I have a partner," Rodney says, clutching tighter at John. "Don't I? Yes, yes, I do!"
vegetariansushi: oh, Rodney. i love him
cupidsbow: The Priestess turns to Teyla. "You accept this bond freely?"
cupidsbow: Teyla looks a little startled.
cupidsbow: "Um," says John. "Is there a reason it has to be Teyla?"
cupidsbow: "She is the only woman among you, is she not?" says the Priestess.
cupidsbow: The team exchange glances for a moment, and then Teyla steps forward and says, "It would be my honour to do this for Dr McKay."
cupidsbow: "Oh my god," says Rodney, going pale and swaying a little against John.
cupidsbow: The whole of Atlantis throws a wedding party that night, but Rodney can't quite bring himself to eat more than one piece of cake, even though the gods were kind.
cupidsbow: P38-921: John is zapped with an amnesia ray.
cupidsbow: "Only you!" Rodney says, futzing desperately with the Ancient thingumy, trying to figure out how to reverse it. "Do you have to touch everything shiny you see?"
cupidsbow: John puts his hand on Ronon's bulging upper-arm muscles. "I know you, right?" he says, fluttering his eyelashes a little.
cupidsbow: Rodney blinks at John's hand on Ronon's skin. Ronon gives John a sly smile and says, "Sure. We know each other real well."
cupidsbow: John beams.
cupidsbow: Rodney scowls. "I'm in love with an intergalactic himbo!"
cupidsbow: Then we have to have the grand finale, in which Rodney totally loses it. I haven't quite figured that part out yet. But it happens on a planet where Rodney gets amnesia, married to John, drugged with the local aphrodisiac, and must perform a cleansing sex ritual with John.
cupidsbow: And have a giant rant.
vegetariansushi: actually, anything that has person after person falling -- legitimately, not cruelly -- for Rodney? totally one of my big weaknesses.
vegetariansushi: especially if Rodney was to just get more and more aggravated by it
cupidsbow: I just like the idea of the cliches going the opposite way to usual. It pleases me immensely.
cupidsbow: He expects hot sex with John, and nope. Everyone but John.
vegetariansushi: also, if you could somehow work sex with, like, Cadman, or -- or Zelenka?
vegetariansushi: that would be totally more like winning, even
vegetariansushi: and by 'winning',
vegetariansushi: i mean 'MORE ABOUT PLACATING MY BRAIN'
cupidsbow: yes, there should be a couple of Atlantis based interludes between missions!
cupidsbow: Cadman would be fun. John should get stuck in her body. Heee.
vegetariansushi: i would give you a dollar to write a fic in which John gets stuck in Cadman's body
cupidsbow: Well, this is the fic to do it in. Can you imagine Rodney's totally brain-lock?
vegetariansushi: 'breasts!' 'i am STUCK in her BODY, Rodney' 'you have BREASTS! what do they feel like?'
cupidsbow: Maybe Rodney should kiss her in front of Carson.
vegetariansushi: you know, genderfucking fic was not a kink that i knew that i had until recently
vegetariansushi: go figure, eh?
cupidsbow: I love genderfuck stories!
cupidsbow: What other cliches should I use? What about for Zelenka? He's trapped with John and they're going to die unless Rodney saves them, and Zelenka makes a declaration over the radio?
cupidsbow: "I will miss our math nights, Colonel."
cupidsbow: John: "Me too, Radek. Fun times."
cupidsbow: And Rodney's on the comm going, "Math nights? MATH NIGHTS?"
vegetariansushi: that's the best plan ever
cupidsbow: It pleases me immensely!
vegetariansushi: also, ha, math nights
vegetariansushi: best euphemism ever.
cupidsbow: Then we need a mirror!John to come through from another dimension and he's totally gay... for Lorne.
vegetariansushi: i'd read John/Lorne fic
vegetariansushi: how have i never seen that before?
cupidsbow: But he chats up non-mirror John while he's waiting.
cupidsbow: John-on-John action.
cupidsbow: Can you imagine Rodney's face?
vegetariansushi: Rodney's face for all this is the BEST THING EVER
vegetariansushi: because he would be SO IRRITATED
cupidsbow: Rodney's face... he would want to be the meat in that sandwich so bad!
vegetariansushi: and John would totally fall for himself, too
cupidsbow: And I think for the fic to work, John has to be kind of oblivious to Rodney's yearning.
vegetariansushi: if the other!John was, like, -- not military. Science team.
vegetariansushi: all wearing a blue shirt and glasses
cupidsbow: And floppy hair.
vegetariansushi: (because John in glasses is hot)
vegetariansushi: and possibly carrying a datapad?
vegetariansushi: and very, very gay.
cupidsbow: Totally. And speaking Ancient, because with the gene and all, it's his specialty. He can make Atlantis do things canon!John hasn't even dreamt of.
cupidsbow: Yes. Totally out, and all over the military look, so Rodney doesn't even get a chance.
vegetariansushi: omg, best plan ever
vegetariansushi: that seriously fills me with glee
cupidsbow: Maybe, to rub salt into the wound, science!John is all, "Hey, buddy, glad you're in this reality. My life couldn't be in safer hands." And, of course, Rodney is so jealous he can hardly see straight.
vegetariansushi: that's some seriously glee-making stuff, dude
cupidsbow: Are there any major cliches we've missed?
vegetariansushi: not that i can think of, no
cupidsbow: I might have to write this one. Although I don't seem to be big with the writing at the moment.
cupidsbow: But frustrated Rodney... the more I think about it, the more gleeful it makes me.
The sad thing is that this has barely made a dent in the pile of unfinished WIPs sitting on my hard disk, but at least most of the rest are over the 5,000 word mark.