TITLE: Learning Experience
AUTHOR: Amber.
RATING: PG-13.
SPOILERS: None.
PAIRING: Sheppard/McKay.
SUMMARY: Dr. McKay just may have a few things he can learn from one Major John Sheppard.
ARCHIVAL: Just ask.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. I profit in no way.
NOTES: The first line of this story may be familiar: it's from a drabble written by Katt for the McShep Drabble-Tree Marathon. When I started this piece, it was intended to be just another drabble for that project, but it sort of took on a life of its own, and it's now something like 1000 words. My sincerest gratitude to Katt for writing the line that acted as the catalyst for this story, and I sincerely hope that it is okay that I have used it like this. If not, please let me know, and accept my apologies.
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"Have you figured it out yet?"
"Yes."
"Liar." John's mouth curled into a casual smirk. Dear God, the man even smirked with that same brand of unnerving natural ease.
"I am not lying," Rodney somehow managed to say without ever unclenching his back teeth. He hesitated a moment, then plunged on, "Furthermore, I hardly think that being more knowledgeable than me in one area-"
"'Than I.'"
"Excuse me?" Rodney's agitation was as evident as ever.
"'More knowledgeable than I,'" John repeated patiently. "So grammar, that's a second area. Also, I can fly pretty well. Three."
"Being more knowledgeable than I in three areas, then, still does not qualify you-"
"Oh, and a fourth: sex."
"Sex?" Rodney repeated incredulously. "Sex? I-" He deflated slightly. "Okay, I probably can't argue with you about that one."
John shrugged one shoulder, the most gracious response he could muster, then hopped down from the lab table and crossed the room to where Rodney sat, a mess of papers and two calculators covering the desk in front of him. "Still haven't found the answer, have you?"
"No," Rodney admitted miserably.
"It's four."
"What?"
"The answer," John explained, "is four. I was trying to give you a hint with all that sex talk."
"That was not 'sex talk,'" Rodney corrected. "Even with my supposedly limited knowledge, I know that much." He looked down at the pages of scratch work. "Four?"
"Yep," John replied, his voice light. "After quite a lot of simplification and work, but yes, four."
"I hate you," Rodney said after a moment.
"More's the pity, then," John replied, crossing to the room's open door; "I imagine I could teach you a few things."
"I'm sure." Rodney waved his hand impatiently. "Don't you have somewhere to be or something?"
"No." John watched Rodney stare at his calculations, brow furrowed. John's face creased similarly as he frowned. "You're really oblivious, aren't you?"
"It's one math problem!" Rodney was on his feet, the papers brushed to the floor. "It's one math problem, and you're going to lord it over me as just another reason that you're superior to the man who doesn't even belong here."
John stalked back to the desk and stood across from Rodney, and his eyes glinted as he corrected him. "First, I don't know where you get that, about not belonging here, when you're a member of my team. Second, I wasn't talking about the 'math problem,' Rodney. I was talking about the fact that you're so wrapped up in numbers and insecurity that you don't even know when someone's coming on to you."
"You're not funny." Rodney swallowed hard and took a step back. "It wasn't funny over twenty years ago when it happened the first time, and it's not funny now."
John tilted his head. "You're angry because you think I'm having a laugh at your expense," he observed.
"You're not?"
"No!"
"Oh." They stared at one another, frowning, then Rodney took another step back. "Oh."
"You said."
"I-" He was halfway through a third step backward when the papers scattered on the floor caught his eye. "It's four," he murmured. "Look at that, right there." He grinned at John, who glared back, but Rodney ignored his apparent displeasure. "Look!" Rodney said again, even more pleased than before. He walked back toward the desk, almost in a trance, and bent down to retrieve his precious scribblings.
When he stood, papers in hand, John was only a step away. "Do you have attention deficit, Rodney?"
"What are you talking about now?" Rodney asked irritably, more concerned with his own work than with John's answer. Before he had a chance to truly appreciate his own genius, Rodney felt the edge of his desk slam against the back of his legs. He needed a moment to realize that it has been he who had moved, not the desk, and an additional moment before he recognized that the force in question was John's body pressing against him, mouth to mouth and chest to chest.
Rodney heard the papers hit the floor before he realized that he had dropped them, and his fingers had just reached up to graze the soft skin at the side of John's neck when John pulled away. "You get it now?" he asked immediately, and Rodney answered, just as quickly:
"Yes."
"Good." John took a deep breath into his empty lungs and disguised it with a sigh. "Good," he repeated.
"Very good," Rodney mumbled, awkwardly pulling his hand back, and John smirked.
"Try kissing back this time, okay?" Then John's lips were in place again, slightly parted, and Rodney could almost feel John's heartbeat through his mouth. Where their breath passed over their lips was hot and moist, and what was still functioning of Rodney's brain was reminded of a jungle they had once visited, where the temperature had been well over 100 degrees Fahrenheit, and all Rodney had wanted to do that afternoon was take his clothes off, to find some measure of relief.
Pretty much the same deal now, he thought, and he found that his hand was tugging at John's collar.
John shook his head, breaking the kiss, but when he spoke, his voice was low and his eyes were glazed over. "Good. Good, Rodney."
"Yeah."
"Uh huh." John's eyes still lacked focus, but he managed to direct his smile in Rodney's direction. "You're a quick study."
"So I've been told."
"We have to work on those mathematics skills, though."
Rodney's eyes flashed. "I don't need your help with-" He stopped when John shot him a pointed look. "Right."
"Tomorrow, maybe, if you still want to," John offered, and Rodney nodded mutely. John bent down, retrieved Rodney's discarded papers, and handed them over with a flourish and a smile. "Good night, Rodney."
"Yeah, good night," Rodney replied, watching as John walked to the door, gave an uncharacteristically sweet but genuine smile, and disappeared from view.
Rodney found his chair and sat. He slowly picked up a pencil and added a few lines to the papers in his hand. "Four," he murmured, a touch of wonder in his voice. He leaned forward, his nose mere inches from the numbers he was scribbling. After a minute or two, finally satisfied, he repeated himself. "Four."
Rodney pressed his forehead to the desk and laughed.