First Kiss
A Stargate Atlantis Fanfic
Original Publish Date: 30 September 2008
Rewrite Publish Date: 13 November 2013
Warnings: Language, Suggestive Content
NOTE: This story has been rewritten since its original publication. If you are re-reading this story, you should start back at Part I!
Ten hours in.
"You two are being awfully quiet. Still with us?"
John bit down on his tongue and a few choice words with it. Rodney obviously didn't feel the same compulsions, rolling his eyes and keying his radio. "No, we miraculously discovered an escape hatch and are now crawling through the Jeffrey tubes to safety!"
"The what?" John could imagine the baffled look on Keller's face.
"Just ignore him," he broke in helpfully. "That's what I'm trying to do."
Rodney made a disbelieving noise, eyes narrowed. "Could you try a little harder?" John pointedly closed his eyes again and refused to respond.
Not that there was much point in trying to rest. Even if John could fall asleep in this stupid little box, he was fairly sure Rodney wouldn't let him, if only out of spite.
He had forced the scientist to ration those power bars they had on them. They had only run out about two hours ago, but Rodney was starting to hit the early stages of hypoglycemic shock. Of course, that meant another person called in on the other side of the door, Doctor Keller— who, despite Rodney's insistence that he was on the verge of dying, assured Sheppard that Rodney wasn't in any danger from the condition. Not yet.
In addition to Keller, who was on hand in case of any medical emergencies that could hopefully be handled via radio, there was still Carter and Zelenka, though Radek was sleeping at the moment. The lucky bastard. Lorne had to return to Atlantis for the time being because, well, somebody had to be running the place.
All it meant to John was more people who got to watch this whole mortifying scene play out.
At the moment, Keller was trying to calmly explain to McKay that Sheppard had done the correct thing with the rationing, and staved off his low blood-sugar reaction. Rodney stubbornly insisted that by drawing out the hunger pangs, Sheppard had made it worse and made several snide comments about her particular brand of voodoo he laughingly referred to as a science.
Rodney might not have been in any danger from his own body. Sheppard, on the other hand, was seriously reconsidering his promise not to shoot the scientist. He also considered that he hadn't promised not to shoot himself, which— while definitely a less appealing option than murdering Rodney— was growing more and more attractive.
He supposed he might have felt slightly bad for McKay; Rodney was already shaky and his skin was pale. Paler than usual at any rate. So he knew that it was starting to affect him. That was possibly even the reason why Rodney was so irritable.
Or it was possible that Rodney was just being a belligerent ass.
It wasn't like John had exactly had a good meal for the last ten hours, either.
The computer chimed in again: "This is most distressing; your health appears to be suffering and yet you still have no desire to attempt the exercise."
It did that every so often, usually asking them to try to reach a resolution. By now, he noticed, it had gone from asking them to resolve their issues to asking them to try. And it was sounding more like begging than asking.
"Well here's an idea:" Rodney snapped back. "Open the damn door, so I'll be able to eat something and then my death won't be quite as imminent!"
"Rodney."
"What, Sam?" Rodney had had just about enough of this. And head of the expedition or not, he was getting sick of the platitudes from Carter. "Don't tell me— you've miraculously pulled a solution out of—"
Sheppard shifted, casting at him a rather intense glare.
Rodney returned a contemptuous look, but amended his statement. "…Out of no where… and have finally figured out how to open: One. Freaking. Door?!"
"Watch it, McKay," was the growled response. Then, slightly softer— only slightly, because she had been at this almost the whole time, and she was actually doing the work— "You'd know right away if we had. Oh— wait—"
Both men sat up as though they'd been electrified. "You got it?"
"Uh, no—" The wince was palpable even through the radio. "Sorry, I shouldn't have sounded so excited." Rodney started muttering under his breath, and John lashed out at the wall with his fist.
He immediately regretted the decision, and cradled his hand up against his chest.
"Colonel. Please don't break your knuckles. Carpal bones are very difficult to set."
A confused look washed over John's face at Keller's admonishment. "What… how—?"
It was Colonel Carter's voice that broke back in. "I was about to tell you, I managed to access the internal cameras, so we can keep an eye on you guys."
"Damn it."
"Well damn."
John and Rodney eyed each other suspiciously, caught off guard by their shared feelings about that revelation.
"Oh that bodes well," Keller commented.
It was Carter who had the answer to that one: "Yeah. Now there'll be hard evidence if one of them tries something."
Rodney exhaled hard and flopped back against the wall. He could see John eyeing him from all of three meters away— God, why did it have to be so cramped in here? That AI obviously didn't understand the concept of claustrophobia, or personal hygiene for that matter. At this point, he was wondering if Sheppard understood the concept either.
"You know, we could try to do what the thing wants."
"Pardon?" Rodney tilted his head to better stare at Sheppard like the moron he was being.
John grit his teeth. Lemons. There are lots of lemons in your future, McKay. "Well, it's not like it's going to make it go any slower."
There was the sound of a woman clearing her throat through the radio.
John didn't exactly look repentant, but he did throw in, "No offense, ma'am."
"Oh sure." Rodney's expression had become snide once more. The effect was mostly ruined by his trembling shoulders. "Let's hold hands and sing Kumbaya. That will fix everything!"
"Or you know—"
"We could wish for world peace while we're at it!"
"Wouldn't it be galactic peace?"
Rodney made a disparaging sound at the eastern European accent that had joined in. "Great. You're awake."
"I could go for universal peace, at this point," Carter was muttering.
"Rodney," John grated. "Regardless of what this thing wants us to do, it's got its mind set on it. It's not going to let us out of here until it's satisfied."
"Oh and you're suddenly privy to some artificial intelligence's thought process?" The expression on Rodney's face was one of pure scorn. "Unless you were secretly convening with the thing to get at me— which I wouldn't put past—"
"Excuse me?" McKay suddenly looked leery; he hadn't expected the indignant outburst that cut him off. "Are you actually trying to blame this on me?" Again, he cut Rodney off— "It's not my fault we got locked in a closet!"
Rodney's look of irritation fell away, leaving him gaping like a fish. The sound that came out next seemed suspiciously like a squeak.
"What!?"
There were several muffled and choked sounds from the radio, and what he could only assume were stifled giggles. John sincerely hoped that last one was Keller.
In the meantime, the wide eyed and disturbed look he was getting from Rodney prompted John to sigh in disgust. "You know what I mean." He then cocked an eyebrow. "Or… do you?"
"Yes I do, so you should understand why I find it somewhat curious that you choose to draw that particular analogy to our current situation!"
Rodney recoiled as he was met with an actual bark of laughter out of Sheppard. "Oh, please McKay. I promise not to take advantage of you." A leering smirk accompanied the remark.
"Oh yeah right," was the disparaging comment tossed back.
"You know, this is the sort of behavior we are seeking to correct."
"We— we? What is this 'we'?" Rodney looked positively outraged as he railed at the ceiling. "You come down here and lock yourself with him in a broom closet—"
John leapt on that: "See?"
"That— I— not what I meant." Rodney let out an aggrieved noise, clutching at his face. His hands came away covered in sweat, and he breathed out forcefully. "Still think this is a good idea?"
Sheppard narrowed his eyes, but instead of glaring at him, those eyes flicked over Rodney in an appraising way.
"Take a photo, it'll last longer," he grumbled, suddenly not willing to summon the effort to come up with a better response.
"Oh come on, McKay," Sheppard cajoled. "You haven't even tried. All we have to do is kiss and make up." That damned, wicked smirk was back.
Okay, exhausted (most likely due to impending death) or not, he could not let that one slip by— but Rodney's scathing and brilliant riposte was cut off from above.
"Exchange of physical affection does lower stress and promote strong bonds—"
"What?"
"What?!"
Rodney whirled back towards Sheppard, incredulous. "Nice going, genius! What the hell is your problem?"
The smirk was stricken from Sheppard's face as he spat, "I wasn't serious!"
"Well could you stop giving it suggestions?"
"It's a figure of speech!"
"You two are very poor patients," the computer was lamenting over the steadily building argument.
"Tell me about it," Keller's voice agreed.
Colonel Carter's next words managed to silence the fight with alarming speed: "I have to admit, I think sending you two to talk to Kate once this is over is a very good idea."
A beat later, she added: "I can see you glaring at the door."
With a sound that was remarkably snarl-like, Rodney turned and shoved himself up against the wall, determined to blatantly ignore Sheppard. Letting out another huff, he rubbed at his eyes again, until he started seeing spots.
From outside, the three monitoring the feed could see Sheppard snort at his teammate, then look upwards in what he assumed was the general direction of the camera. "Well, couples' therapy is going to have wait until we get out, isn't it?" he offered rhetorically.
Even that didn't get a rise out of the scientist; all the same, as John let his gaze drop, it lingered again on Rodney. He watched as Rodney closed his eyes, and leaned his head back against the bulkhead, still breathing hard.
