SGA: Don't Say It (R), McKay/Sheppard.
McKay had a habit of falling in love with people that drove him nuts.



"So is that your sidearm or are you—"

Rodney immediately slammed his hand over John's mouth, cutting off the rest of the words. He heard them echo in the back of his head, anyway, and gave a mental groan. "Don't say it," he growled, and he could feel Sheppard smile against the palm of his hand.

Sheppard was getting a kick out of their situation. Rodney—not so much.

This could only have happened to them. They had the worst luck on Atlantis, and it was just asking for trouble sending them off together. Their karma had single-handedly brought down the roof of the ruins they'd been wandering on top of them, just as he'd found a power source that might have actually been of some use.

He'd been pushed down on top of Sheppard, who wasn't such a great pillow, but was better at least than the rock John had been slammed against. The Major's eyes were a little glazed and he was obviously not all there, and they had a stone slab held an inch above their backs on cracked stones that could split apart any second—and Teyla and Ford were off exploring over a mile away.

And what was he doing? Was he using his brilliant mind to find them a way out? No, of course not. He was lying on top of his team leader with a hard on.

He was trying to tell himself it was adrenaline, and not the cute bemused grin Sheppard kept giving him—and really, what the hell kind of friend was he? The man was obviously not well, they could die at any moment, and he's thinking about sex of all things? Maybe he'd hit his head too.

He let his hand fall away from John's mouth again, planting it on the stone on the other side of his head to try and keep himself from resting all of his weight against him. John laughed, giggled, almost, and he frowned, deciding he was definitely not all there.

"So is that your—"

He slammed his hand over John's mouth again, and felt his breath warm against his hand as he laughed against it. He dropped it down again and glared, but Sheppard only shrugged as much as his pinned situation would allow and said, "Come on, it's funny. And it has to be said."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "What, are you twelve?"

"I'm not giving up 'till you let me say it." Sheppard's grinning again, and Rodney's just glad he's not freaking out. Although if John decides this should become a 'funny story' to spread around Atlantis he may have to kill him. He was sure he could plan it to look like an accident.

"You're concussed," Rodney hissed. "And stay still, would you?"

"I'm not concussed," Sheppard denied instantly. "I didn't hit my head that hard."

Rodney held three fingers in front of his eyes. "How many?"

"Six," he answered, giving him another grin. "Did I win?" Rodney's eyes widened in horror, and John laughed. "Would you lighten up?" he asked. "Three, okay? I'm fine."

"You were giggling," Rodney said, and it sounded like an accusation.

This was answered by Sheppard giggling more. He had to bite his lip to stop. "Well it's funny," he said.

"We could DIE!" Rodney snapped. "Can you imagine what they'd think if they found us, found me, and like…like this?"

"We're not going to die," John said plainly. "We've been in worse situations."

Rodney was pretty sure he could argue that. This pretty much took the cake for him. In the few occasional daydreams in which he told Sheppard how he felt, it had never gone quite like this.

"So is that—"

McKay pressed his hand back over Sheppard's mouth, with more force than strictly necessary. "You say that one more time, and I'm going to have to kill you."

"I've never actually said it," John defended, when McKay pulled his hand away. "You won't let me." He then did something with his lips that looked suspiciously like a pout, and McKay wondered if maybe when the ruins hit he'd been killed outright.

This couldn't possibly be happening. Surreal didn't begin to cover it.

"Does this…um…happen a lot?" John asked.

Rodney's eyes snapped down to glare at him. "No it doesn't happen a lot!"

John gave his best reassuring smile. "Okay. Because, you know, we've been out here awhile now and no one would—"

"Can you shut up?" Rodney asked tensely. Sheppard was biting his lip again, probably holding back more giggles—and it really wasn't helping Rodney with his problem. "And stop that!"

"Stop what?" John asked. "I'm not doing anything now!"

"You're biting your lip!" Rodney snapped.

"So? Why—oh, oh…you mean…?"

Sheppard's eyes had gone impossibly wide, and Rodney rolled his own. "Can we not have this conversation now?"

"You do!" Sheppard said, his voice rather unnecessarily loud. "You like me!"

"Your deduction skills, Major, never cease to amaze," McKay ground out, keeping his eyes averted towards the ground.

"So…ah…how long have you…" Sheppard seemed to be having trouble forming the question, and McKay could hardly blame him. He wasn't in the best position to be finding this out.

McKay knew what he was trying to ask, anyway, and he wondered how he should respond. First sight sounded so cliché. "Awhile," he snapped, and even he noticed that he made it sound like it was Sheppard's fault. Which it entirely was.

"Oh," he said, sounding adorably bewildered.

Rodney didn't catch Sheppard off his guard often, and so he enjoyed the moment—before allowing himself to panic a little at the thought that Sheppard knew. "Ah, you don't have to worry, I mean, it doesn't change anything."

"It changes everything!" Sheppard shouted, and Rodney resisted the urge to place his hand over his mouth again. Surely Teyla and Ford had heard that…?

The evil vindictive part of him was hoping Sheppard would just pass out and forget everything. The part that knew better understood Sheppard needed to be kept awake, because if he really was concussed unconsciousness could lead to a coma. He sighed, deciding that if this whole…thing…kept Sheppard awake and talking then he would just have to suffer through. "It doesn't," he insisted. "You've never noticed before. Just pretend you don't know."

"Little hard to do," John said wryly, shifting a little. Rodney hissed at the reaction that the movement caused, and Sheppard made a sound of triumph. "See? See? How am I supposed to ignore that?"

"Major Sheppard?"

The voice caused both John and Rodney to freeze, and then they looked towards where it was coming from. One of their radios lay out of reach in a pile of rubble, Ford's voice coming through a layer of static.

"Doctor McKay, respond!"

"They should start looking for us now," John said.

"Thank god," Rodney muttered, thinking cold shower thoughts, and trying not to make eye contact. He'd very much like to be in a somewhat more controlled state when they arrived.

"You could have told me," Sheppard said quietly.

"I thought about it," Rodney said, calmly. "Then I thought, oh I'll just wait until I have him pinned beneath me and show him instead."

John let out a startled laugh. "Good plan. I don't much care for explanations, anyway. I've always been a kind of learn-by-experience guy."

Rodney narrowed his eyes at that, wondering why Sheppard hadn't bothered to give him the 'just friends' speech to try and cool him down. It was obviously what he needed—did the man have no sense of self-preservation at all? You didn't tease someone in his…condition. "It's not going to be a problem," he snapped.

It wasn't. It really wasn't. McKay had a habit of falling in love with people that drove him nuts, so he could usually hide the whole love thing quite easily. No danger of annoying sappiness from him. He didn't hand out Valentines, oh no, not Rodney McKay. He just sat on them and let his dick do the talking.

"But you like me!" Sheppard said again, seemingly stuck on that point.

"That's been pretty well established, yes," McKay agreed peevishly. "Which part of 'can we not do this' did you misunderstand? Because I can break it down for you if the words aren't getting through."

"You so want me," John said, sounding annoyingly smug.

Rodney glared at him, and decided Sheppard was definitely enjoying himself too much. "I'm glad you find this so amusing."

Teyla's voice sounded through the radio now, and the amount of static had lessoned. They were probably closer. Rodney glanced sideways but still couldn't see them. "I would appreciate it," he said. "If you didn't mention this. Ever."

Sheppard smiled innocently. "And here I was thinking it would be such a wonderful conversation starter."

Rodney glared at him—again. "In fact," he continued, as though John had not spoken at all. "I would appreciate it if you just forgot this ever happened."

"No problem," John said easily. "People are asking me to forget little incidents like this all the time."

"What?" Rodney snapped. "Like who?"

"Like no one," Sheppard said, rolling his eyes. "That was sarcasm, Rodney, as this is quite unlike anything that has happened to me."

"Oh," Rodney said, feeling foolish—but he could hardly get more embarrassed than he already was, so he didn't worry about it too much.

"Do you really think I'm going to go around telling people about this?" Sheppard asked dubiously. "Oh, hey, you'll never guess what happened to me—"

This time, Rodney did slam his hand over the Major's mouth again, rather enjoying the fact that with his arms pinned beneath him he couldn't really stop him. "As you seem to live for teasing me," Rodney said, "the thought did cross my mind." His hand dropped back down.

"I don't live for teasing you," John said. "It's just one of life's fun little bonuses."

"I hate you," Rodney said, emotionless and calm.

Sheppard nodded downward. "That would be more convincing if—"

"Don't say it," Rodney yelled. "We can talk about anything else. Anything."

Sheppard nodded again, and then asked, "Have you ever been with a man?"

"Is that something else?" Rodney asked, sounding indignant and not a little horrified.

"I was just wondering," Sheppard said, trying to appease him, "considering our situation, not entirely without reason."

"Yes," Rodney admitted. "Have you?"

Sheppard shrugged. "No—I never really thought about it."

"Of course you haven't." Rodney said, wondering why Sheppard wouldn't just leave him alone with what little pride he had left.

"Kind of thinking about it now, though," he said, in an exasperatingly seductive tone that banished all thought of cold showers from Rodney's mind—just as Teyla and Ford appeared, running, in his peripheral.

"You're a bastard," Rodney hissed, trying desperately to collect himself, and John just grinned at him—any response he might have made cut off by Teyla screaming their names.

* * * *

Rodney paced the length of his quarters. Teyla and Ford had been able to jam some rubble beneath the slab of stone to hold it steady long enough for them to slip free, and he'd managed to hold his backpack in front of himself discreetly enough that they hadn't noticed a thing. It's not like they would ever have thought to look.

He'd stayed in the infirmary only long enough for Beckett to announce it was just a knock on the head and not a concussion, and that a couple of Advil and Sheppard was fine, before getting the hell out of dodge. He'd mostly been too distracted while everything was happening by the thought of possible impending death to realize just how utterly horrified he should be.

He was having no trouble thinking about it now.

And John…he…he wasn't horrified. He had been teasing him, he had been…well, there was no denying it—he'd been rather overtly suggestive. It was confusing the hell out of him.

He'd been in this situation more than once—well, not this exact situation, certainly, but the whole unhealthy attraction thing all the same. Most recently before Sheppard was the ever-glowing Samantha Carter. Sam understood the rules, and when he tried to initiate something she turned him down—flatly, no room for misinterpretation. Just like she was supposed to. He didn't know what rulebook Sheppard thought he was following, but it was obviously the wrong one.

He would just have to pretend it never happened. Admittedly this would have been much easier had Sheppard actually had a concussion—and he did not just think that—but he might still be able to convince John that it had all happened in his head and had been not at all real. Yes, that would work.

He grinned in relief at this new plan of attack, before it was blown all to pieces by Sheppard stepping inside of his quarters. His eyes widened and he mentally backtracked through his to-do list for avoiding someone he had just sexually assaulted—act casual, check, run to quarters with tail firmly between legs, check, lock the door…lock the door…

Fuck.

Sheppard grinned at him as the doors closed behind him, and then sauntered right past to flop down on his bed. He bounced a little. "Your bed is more comfortable than mine," he said.

He spun on his heel with wide eyes. "Excuse me? What are you…and what…what are you doing here?"

"I thought we should talk," John said, and then he grinned at him. One of those annoying dazzling grins that always made him want to scream. Sam Carter smiled like that too, but she had never aimed one at him.

"I don't want to talk," Rodney snapped. "I want to forget it. And if you were any friend at all, you would pretend it never happened."

John looked thoughtful, and then he said, "I think you should kiss me."

Speechless. He was utterly speechless. He opened his mouth a few times, but nothing came out.

"For curiosity's sake," John explained, and McKay bristled.

"Not good enough. I'm not some kind of experiment." McKay crossed his arms. "I think you should leave."

"And I think you should kiss me," Sheppard said simply.

"Would you stop saying that?" he hissed.

"You don't want to kiss me?" Sheppard asked, and McKay wondered how someone who could probably kill him more than fifty different ways could still manage to sound so guileless.

John got to his feet, and came to stand in front of him. He opened his mouth to say something, and before he knew what he was doing, Rodney had slid his hands into the disarrayed hair and pulled him close to kiss him.

It didn't last long, but when he pulled back John looked as dazed and breathless as he felt. There was no danger of a hit to the head being responsible this time. "Wow," he whispered.

John nodded, resting his forehead against his. "We should do that again," he said, and for once, Rodney agreed with him completely. He leaned forward, and their lips met again, but this time John had his lips tightly closed, and Rodney's eyes narrowed as he realized he was trying not to laugh.

He grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him back to look at him—he was definitely laughing. "Is this some kind of joke?" Rodney demanded, feeling a little sick.

John shook his head. "No, I was just thinking…I'm kissing McKay," he explained, and then laughed again.

McKay glared. This would not do at all, this wasn't supposed to be funny. He wrapped his hands in John's shirt and pulled him close again, and this kiss went more like the first one. When he heard John moan, he smiled—that was more like it.

But when he pulled away, he heard John laughing softly again and rolled his eyes. "What now?" he snapped, losing patience.

There was nothing funny about John's voice though, when he say "Rodney" breathlessly against his ear. He had almost lost himself to the moment when Sheppard ruined it by talking more. "Is that your sidearm—?"

Rodney growled irritably and pushed himself closer, pulling John into a brutal kiss that was sure to shut him up. This kiss lasted longer than the others and it was John that pulled away, grinning brightly. "So, happy to see me then," he said smugly, and McKay gave him a shove.

"Bastard," he hissed, but as he crashed against the wall with John, he had to admit, it was kind of funny.