"John Sheppard in the 21st Century" by Krissy Mae Anderson
Rating: T for some swearing and curtainblowing sex.
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Summary: "You're not Kirk. You're Buck." A slashy little vignette I wrote a long time ago.
Disclaimer: John, Rodney, Buck and Wilma are not mine, dangit. I'm just playing with them.
"I was mistaken, I admit," Rodney whispers in my ear as he traces some imaginary formulae on my chest. "You're not Kirk. You're Buck."
"Roooooohd-neeeee," I whine, trying to distract him from talking. But it's futile, since nothing lesser than a natural disaster, enemy attack or paralysis will make Rodney shut up. Well, me fucking his brains out usually can accomplish that, but I'm too tired to do that now… Instead, I try to put a hand over his mouth. This turns out to have been a bad idea when Rodney sucks one of my fingers into his mouth and my body decides it's sixteen again and Rodney slides down- Fuck, I'm going to become a blithering idiot soon, since Rodney's trying his best to blow my mind, quite literally. After he's turned my brain to mush, he opens his mouth, ready to continue his tirade. I try to protest, but all that comes out of my mouth is "Fwah…" Great. Now Rodney broke my brain.
"I've always kind of… liked that show," Rodney continues, propping himself up on one elbow and looking too smug for his own good. "Sure, the science was crap, the special effects were faker than what I could probably make when I was five with some colored light bulbs and construction paper, but I mostly watched it for the hot pilot…" He notices my raised eyebrow and gets a truly evil look on his face. "And no, not Wilma Deering."
"You had a crush on Buck Rogers?" I say, finally getting my tongue to work. Rodney nods, now grinning almost maniacally. "Okaaaay," I drawl, and decide that my lover has finally gone off the deep end. I dredge up my own meager memories of the show and shudder a bit. "I've never really followed it that much. The outfits were just – bad, and horribly tight. Buck's pants were probably cutting off circulation to vital body parts. I like my own pants nice and loose, and not strangling me to death, thank you very much."
"You like them that way because you have no ass."
I cannot let such a base accusation go unpunished, so I force myself to get up from a boneless heap my body's been reduced to, and creep over to Rodney until I am towering over him and looking at his smug face from above. "Wanna take that back?" I ask innocently, circling his nipple with a finger.
Rodney jumps a little and swallows nervously. "Okay, okay, I do. But only because you're forcing me, you know. Killjoy. And what was I saying- yes, Buck. Hmmm, let's see, other than the ass, there's quite many similarities – annoying, slightly handsome Air Force flyboy with bad hair and a furry chest who – mmmph!" I drown out the rest of his rant with a kiss, which turns into a more-than-friendly grope, which in turn leads to some bed-shaking sex, which thankfully silences Rodney for a while.
Afterwards, as I am trying to regain my higher brain functions again, Rodney asks:
"Do you think we can persuade Elizabeth to make the Defense Directorate rainbow armband a part of the Atlantis uniform?"
I groan and inefficiently heave a pillow at him as he laughs like a hyena.