1x03: Be Careful What You Wish For
A/N: After a bit of fandom perusal (read: lazy browsing of slash) I was struck by how fandom bicycle-y McKay is. But I'm sticking with my guns here as I reach the end of the fifth season, and say MCBECK ALL THE WAY, MAN! It sucks, because I could almost slash McSkep… Almost. But at least John has Ronan, amirite?
Warnings: This fic contains chronic Slash. If you can't deal with it, hit the back button. Problem solved. V. tame smut (nonexplicit) and medical references (blood pressure + dehydration is based on fact, but genetics is not).
Summary: Rodney wants a hug. Or maybe he just wants Carson. *cue "aaw"s*
Disclaimer: The Stargate franchise does not belong to me. It belongs to MGM et al. PLEASE, I BEG YOU, RESPECT THEM.
Carson was running some tests on the ATA Gene inoculation program, watching the test mouse run on its wheel out of the corner of his eye. After seeing the rather too effective effects of the first human test of the therapy, he thought maybe diluting the gene with the DNA of a simpler creature might make it temporary (or maybe make his subjects crave cheese and develop the impulse to drop anvils on cats, but he was trying not to think about that). At the moment, however, he was having a hard time concentrating on his work. He was too worried about "Captain Untouchable" and his present issues with invulnerability. Captain Untouchable. Carson snorted and shook his head. As if he wasn't untouchable already- at least for Carson. The doctor knew that Rodney liked women, and anyway, his affections were, as they say, engaged elsewhere. His little crush on Samantha Carter had been a bit of a joke among the scientists back on Earth. Beckett would probably have better luck trying it on with Major Sheppard; he seemed pretty "free love".
Carson grimaced in the mouse's general direction.
Rather aptly, he had named the little beastie after the good Major. It had started out as a joke, but the name had unfortunately stuck. At least it gave John himself a good laugh. Personally, it just made Carson feel slightly awkward. He didn't exactly enjoy watching wee John Sheppard doing his business every morning.
Carson returned to continuing to not do his work, entering a gene sequence into his computer listlessly. At least he and Rodney could be friends, and so today Dr Carson Beckett was worrying about his friend, no homo. Just because he wanted to stick his tongue in his friend's mouth didn't mean that he was… no, he'd got that one backwards. It was supposed to be "just because he was worried about his friend's health didn't mean that he wanted to make out with him like a sixteen year old on his second date with the blonde lacrosse player that he'd had a massive crush on since secondary school and had only managed to get up the courage to ask out because all his friends were watching and because his mother wanted to call a psychiatrist because he seemed so abnormal and sexually repressed". He must be really worried, or else he wouldn't have mixed up that sentence in such a ridiculous way. Stick his tongue in Rodney's mouth indeed! The very idea!
His train of thought was about to go on a McKay-style mental detour when it was brought to a crashing halt by the sound of the door to the infirmary sliding open and (speak of the Devil and he shall appear) Rodney McKay striding inside purposefully.
Carson masked his slightly homoerotic happiness at seeing his friend by greeting him with a long-suffering: "Hullo, Rodney. What's wrong?" Right after he said this, however, he noticed the lack of a green circle on the astrophysicist's chest and the broad grin on his face as he bit into a PowerBar with gusto. Carson inhaled sharply in surprise. "The device! It's off! Thank God!"
"You can, if you want. I'm going to thank my psychic prowess." The Canadian scientist puffed out his Ancient-device free chest and took another bite. "I just thought about switching it off hard enough and it, well, switched off!" he continued, speaking with his mouth full.
Carson thought it more likely that the device's power had been used up. Although, with Rodney you could never tell; he was such a boaster that it was impossible to say when he was lying and when he was telling the truth.
"How are you feeling?" Carson asked, getting up and walking to his friend's side. "I see you're eating, that's good. Just remember to take it slow. Your stomach's gone without food for a day, it'll need to get used to digesting again." Rodney nodded, then shoved the full three inches of the remaining nutrient-enhanced "food" into his mouth and chewed with an expression of pure ecstacy on his face. Carson rolled his eyes and put out a hand to check Rodney's vitals. "Hmm… pulse abnormally elevated. Have you had any water yet?" He asked, getting into the routine of the examination with practiced ease. He pulled out his pen light and shone it into Rodney's eyes. The pupils were slightly dilated. The other man flinched and blinked.
"Cool it, Carson. No need to pull out the voodoo on me. And no, I came straight to you. Do you think I'm an idiot?"
Carson ignored this. "You should have some water. You're dehydrated." He motioned for Rodney to sit down and pulled out a blood pressure cuff. He wrapped the band around Rodney's left arm and pumped air into it, putting on the stethoscope that had been around his neck and putting the patient end on the brachial artery. He slowly released the pressure until he heard the blood flow into the artery. He checked the manometer. When there was silence in the earpieces of the stethoscope, he checked the manometer again. "87 over 50. That's dangerously low. You need water, now."
Rodney choked on the sticky remnants of his PowerBar. "What? Am I going to die? Again?"
"Not if you take the proper steps." Carson replied calmly. He removed the cuff from Rodney's arm, ignored his desperate whines of "I'm going to die, I'm going to die, I'm going to die", and went to get him a bottle of water from the minifridge under the desk. He had to crouch to get at it, and when he stood up and turned around he found Rodney had gotten off the bed and was standing so close they were almost nose to nose.
Carson froze, heart pounding. Rodney was staring into his eyes with the most peculiar expression on his face, eyes unfocused and mouth open. His breath smelled of chocolate flavored granola. Carson wanted to kiss him.
"S-sorry. I just felt, um, dizzy for a moment," Rodney said, and took a step back, looking afraid; Carson wondered why. Despite his blustering, Rodney did know he was going to be fine. Hadn't Carson assured him?
Carson frowned, glad his experience as a doctor could prevent him from blushing at times like these. "You should drink something."
The Canadian reached out a hand. Carson moved to nestle the water bottle in his grip, but his attempt was foiled when Rodney grabbed his arm instead, fingers clutching fabric and flesh as tightly as if his life depended on it.
"R-Rodney?"
The other man's face was flushed, and his breathing shallow. He stared at his hand, fingers caressing the material of Beckett's shirt. A shiver ran down Carson's spine in that way that shivers do. "I… I can touch you." He stepped back into the Scot's personal space and brushed the side of Carson's face with the back of his other hand. "I can…"
Carson attempted to pull out of Rodney's grip, but the man was surprisingly strong, and, well, Carson's heart wasn't really in it.
And then the deathblow: Rodney's eyes, clouded with something, and his voice, low and needy, and then the words-
"Touch me, Carson."
Carson let out a shaky breath, rather akin to a sigh. "W-what do you mean, Rodney?"
Rodney shut his eyes, brows furrowing and fingers moving through Carson's messily gelled hair in a series of staccato strokes and twirls of hair around each digit. "Just… touch me. I need the- the contact. My body has gone without the touch of anything, let alone another human, for a whole day. Humans are… social animals, and as much as I dislike people I do need them." He sighed. "I need you. I need you to- to-" In typical McKay fashion, he gave up on explaining his thought process to the lesser mortals.
Carson dropped the water bottle, and it rolled off somewhere inconsequential. With his free arm, he gently ran his fingers over the contours of Rodney's face, tracing his deeply ingrained frown lines, the bridge of his nose, his square jaw, and stopping at his trembling lips. "Rodney," the doctor said, voice barely kept steady. "Please…" He didn't know if he'd be able to stop; this was obviously a very bad idea and could only lead to drama.
Rodney's eyes were closed and his lips parted in passion, but he didn't seem to want sex from Carson, just the familiar touch of a fellow human.
Then again…
"C-Carson," moaned the Canadian, and slipped his right hand down the small of Carson's back, letting his fingers dance at his hipbone. "Oh, God, Carson." He let out a long, shaky breath, moving as close to his doctor's torso as he could without actually touching him. He breathed in again, seeming to savor the air he inhaled. His expression was one of glorious discovery, nervous, curious, but eager for more.
It was profoundly sexual.
"I thought you didn't believe in a God. Or are you calling me a God? No, that's ridiculous. What am I talking about?" Carson suddenly knew how Rodney felt when he began to babble to cover his mistakes. He was rapidly heading towards the point of no return here, but he was almost certain that Rodney was going to regret this later on.
Before he could take action to keep this from going any further, however, Rodney moved and Carson couldn't stop him, wouldn't stop him.
With hypnotic slowness, the scientist wrapped his arms around the other man and dropped to his knees until his forehead rested on Carson's thighs. His breath was so heavy; Carson could feel it through the thick fabric of his trousers. Rodney rubbed his brow against the inside of Carson's leg rhythmically, just high up enough to make the CMO moan thickly. When Carson was just feeling like he was going to have to handle things himself, Rodney began undoing Carson's flies hastily. A moment later, his hand was down the man's plaid boxers and his fingers were wrapping around Carson's cock.
"Holy mother of God," Carson whimpered, because that man was good. "Don't you dare stop."
Rodney just growled from deep in his throat and pulled. Carson stuffed his sleeve into his mouth to avoid shouting. He spread his legs, giving Rodney free reign, which he took with gusto. The man's face was lit with a sheen of sweat, his mouth screwed up in concentration as he worked. It was eerily similar to the face he wore when working on more intellectual projects. He ran his tongue over his lips and just that nearly sent Carson over the edge. The Scotsman tilted his head back and panted into the rough fabric between his teeth as the Canadian stroked his awareness into a million pieces.
Rodney-!
He exploded into climax and collapsed onto his knees, gasping and grinning and garbed in a pair of ruined boxers. Rodney didn't give him time to recover, however, and pulled him into a needy kiss. It was deep, wet, and sensual, and Rodney was pulsing hard against Carson's leg.
And then suddenly the scientist collapsed, his mouth forcibly disconnected from the doctor's as his head lolled onto his shoulder, leaving a line of saliva down Carson's back.
Carson froze for several seconds, heart beating madly. Damn. He'd forgotten about Rodney's dehydration. Sex was exactly the wrong thing for him. He eased Rodney onto the floor, face up, quickly redid his own pants, and then scrambled on his hands and knees to find the water bottle. He spotted it under a sickbed and grabbed it, unscrewing the cap so hastily that water splashed out. He trickled a little of the life-giving fluid into Rodney's mouth, then sat him up so he would swallow.
Rodney's eyes fluttered open. "Wh-what happened?" he muttered.
"You… collapsed." Carson said, choosing to not say fainted after the earlier controversy. "You're dehydrated. Remember?"
Rodney blinked. "C-carson?" he stuttered, going red as he realized that he was essentially enclosed within the doctor's arms. "What's- Why-?"
"Yes, Rodney?"
"Um…" Rodney took in Carson's messy hair, flushed cheeks, and calm, though slightly worried, countenance. He figured that if what he thought had just happened had really happened, then Carson's face would be more angry, or maybe appalled. So he must have hallucinated it. Fantastic. Now he could add delusions to his long list of symptoms. They may call me a hypochondriac, but I know better.
"I think I need to lie down."
"Yes, I'd agree. Can you stand?"
Rodney replied that yes, he could, he wasn't an invalid, Carson.
Carson rolled his eyes. "Right. Then you can rest in one of the cots. And drink the rest of this bottle of water- but slowly. We don't want you vomiting, do we? I'll be right back. Stay here."
Rodney grimaced and complied, and Carson left to go change his pants, wondering what the hell had just happened.