Cat Latin's scratching post

idle-write, all the time

November 7th, 2008

Two Hundred, McShep, Part 1/2 @ 07:13 pm


Two Hundred
by Cat Latin
Part One of Two
This Part: 3300 Words
Snark, smut, and a few of my favorite cliches.
A McShep Happyfest story, (that didn’t make deadline).

~John was hoping for a smooth first-contact mission, and maybe some beer.  He mostly got his wish.  PX-546388 had a deserted naquadah mine, built by a technologically advanced people, long-since culled.  The current residents were pre-industrial, and the road to the mines led through their village. 

Teyla briefed the team on how to make nice with the locals.  When they got there, Rodney immediately dubbed the place “Planet of the Assholes,” and was quick to point out how well John fit in. 

“Don’t worry,” John whispered to Rodney, “I won’t let them steal your lunch money.  But if they try to stick your head in a toilet, you‘re on your own.”  He smiled when Rodney’s eyes narrowed and his lips disappeared. 

“Unibrows are in this season, providing a stylish compliment to the monosyllabic grunt,” Rodney observed quietly.  “Looks like you’re in luck, Colonel.  Maybe they‘ll make you their god.”

The huge, hairy-knuckled denizens all but ignored Rodney, but John and Ronon were instantly welcomed with back-slapping cordiality.  The locals eyed Teyla with grudging respect for the first five minutes.  Then she produced a barrel of Athosian hooch, and the ice was broken.  Once they got a demonstration of Teyla’s considerable drinking ability, the village headman called her “little sister,” and offered her one of his sons.

The Assholians--Rodney had referred to them by that name so many times, John couldn’t recall what they actually called themselves--had a complicated word that a bemused and slightly out of focus Teyla had tried, and almost managed, to translate.  They used it in the context of a drinking game, to identify the loser.

To John, the word seemed like it contained a teaspoon of “light-weight,” with a smattering of “pansy,” mixed with a sprinkling of “wuss,” and a healthy gob of “girly-man.”  It was a fun-sounding word, multi-syllabic, and difficult to repeat, so John got the Assholian headman to teach it to him. 

Rodney hadn‘t been invited to play, but he could see where this was headed.  “If you ever use that word in my presence, I will punch you in the head,”  he informed John, without looking up from his data pad.

The team made their way back to the Gate with three hangovers, a satisfying trade agreement, a free pass to the naquadah mines, and two more parting gifts that Ronon carried with care.

The creatures nestled comfortably together in a rough-hewn cage, nosing at the bars curiously, and staring up at the team with bright, button eyes.  They were sleek and feline, but with long ears and the chisel-teeth of herbivores.  A bonded pair, the team was informed, with many cautions not to separate them.

“So what happens if you separate them?  Or feed them after midnight?  Are they dangerous? Venomous?  Vampiric?” John asked, because he’d once been to a planet where he was savaged by a thing that resembled a squirrel, and he knew better. 

Ronon replied, “They’re bonded.  If you separate them, they’ll grieve and go off their food, and maybe die. As long as you don’t stick your thumb in their asses, you‘ll be fine.”

“Stop showing him South Park!” Rodney snapped at John.  He lifted a hand tentatively to the cage.

“Aoiieau,” was what Ronon called them. 

“You were hiding when they were handing out the consonants, weren’t you,” Rodney crooned, instantly smitten.  He stroked the bridge of a furry, twitching nose through the bars of the cage.  “Weren’t you?”

John rolled his eyes. “Cat-rabbits,” he said decisively, knowing that when he named something, it stuck.

“We are highly favored to receive such a gift,” Teyla declared, with apparent sincerity.  When John just raised an eyebrow in response, she explained, “These animals exist on many planets.  They’re a primary food source for the Iratus, on planets devoid of humans.  To give them as gifts implies friendship, and recognition of a common bond.”

“Yeah,” Ronon agreed.  “And they make good eating.  Tender.”

Ronon stole a smirking glance with John, and they both adjusted their features to blank nonchalance as Rodney turned from the DHD to stare at them in horror.  Teyla just looked at them all like they were her favorite morons, and strode through the event horizon.


Before Rodney could name them something like, “Einstein and Curie,” John had started right away calling the cat-rabbits “Romeo and Juliet.”  Not very original, but John was the one who named things, dammit.  After debriefing, they took the cage to Spencer in Zoology.

“They’re both males,” she pronounced, as she looked the creatures over.

“Kirk and Spock,” John said automatically, and immediately wished he could just burst into flame.  Rodney saved him by yelling,  “But the Assholians told us they were a mating pair!  Not for eating but for breeding,” he added, glaring daggers at Ronon.  “Look again!”

Spencer just shook her head at Rodney, and returned the animals to their cage. 

“We were told the creatures were a bonded pair,” Teyla murmured to Rodney, “Not a breeding pair.”

“This sort of thing happens in the wild all the time,” Spencer said, and why was she looking at John?  “It’s perfectly natural,” she added helpfully, and she wouldn’t stop looking at him.  Until Kirk climbed on top of Spock and they started going at it like…cat-rabbits. 

It was Ronon who broke the heavy silence. “Well, that settles it,” he said.  “Fatten them up.”

Rodney whimpered.

After Planet of the Assholes, there had been a series of interchangeable missions featuring aliens with questionable dress-style and no sense of humor.  These inevitably ended with them running for their lives.  John figured he could retire comfortably on the proceeds if he got twenty bucks for every time he had to scream “Dial, dial, dial!” over his shoulder while shooting at something ugly and angry.  After the latest, where the spear-wielding aliens chased them to the gate astride foul-smelling creatures that looked sort of like hairy rhinoceri, only green and with poisonous tusks, Rodney had collapsed on the gate room floor next to John and said, between sucking in lungfuls of air, “I’m sick of being so high-maintenance out in the field. Maybe it’s time you showed me some combat technique.” 

It was peaceful to lay in relative safety, listening to Rodney’s labored breathing, surrounded by a bunch of guys with guns who were on his side.  It would be a minute or so before Elizabeth came down the stairs for debriefing, so he got comfortable, crossing his legs and folding his hands on his chest to consider Rodney’s request.

“Why not go to Teyla?”

“I can’t even use chopsticks without poking myself in the eye, and you expect me to wave a couple of  poles around?  This is about protecting my priceless brain, not splitting my skull, thank you.”

John suspected that Rodney still wasn’t secure enough in himself to take a beating from Teyla, so he didn‘t press it.  He didn’t know what the problem was.  John had a standing appointment to get his ass handed to him by Teyla, and he was a better man for it.

“What about Ronon?”

“Enormous.  Terrifying.  Probably a cannibal.”

“And I’m---”

“Skinny.  With amusing hair.”

So John took Rodney to the gym, and showed him some basic hand-to-hand combat techniques.  And went too far.

Rodney was doing pretty well, but when something awkward happened with one of his combinations, John’s fucked-up brain supplied him with the complicated and incendiary Assholian word from weeks ago. 

Rodney gaped at him for a second.  Just as John realized he’d actually said it out loud, Rodney’s fist seemed to fly off his arm.  Flash of white pain, and John didn’t go down, but his head snapped back and he staggered away a few steps.  He tasted blood, and Rodney was still glaring.  Then Rodney tackled him with the full force of his solid body, and they both hit the mat hard.

John coughed and wiped his mouth.  Rodney was heavy.  It didn‘t occur to him to shove him off.  He went with yelling instead.  “You hit me!”

“I did, didn‘t I?”  Rodney panted, eyes startled and wide as he stared down at John.

“You knocked me down!”

Rodney smiled, bright and triumphant.

It was amazing, to both of them for some reason, and John may have shown more appreciation for his student’s reflexes if Rodney’s knee wasn’t digging a hole in his spleen. 

They took a few more deep breaths, winding down.  Rodney looked about to let John up, but he paused, looking thoughtful. He muttered to himself, “Wait, what was I--oh, yes.”

He bent down over John until they were nose to nose and took John’s face roughly in his hand.  Rodney‘s expression was still pleasant and open, but his voice was a low growl, and his fingers dug painfully into John’s cheeks.

“You will never use that word again,” Rodney informed John, and abruptly pulled himself up and off.  He paused for a moment while packing up his things to flash John a smug little grin.  John remained speechless, and sprawled on the floor.

“I should punch you more often, if this is the result.  You might have to invest in a helmet.  Maybe a mouth guard.”  His eyes traveled down the length of John’s body, pausing for a moment just below John’s belt.  Then he grabbed his towel and gave John a cheery wave on his way to the door.

John remained on the floor for a while longer, stunned, sweating, exhilarated, with his cock straining against his zipper.  He was always the last to figure himself out.


~Rodney hit the mess early on his way to the lab.  As he was pouring himself the first of many coffees, he heard the unmistakable rumbling of Ronon in the kitchen with a group of giggling kitchen staff.  Christ, even the guys were giggling.  This was not unusual.  When Ronon first showed up, after Rodney got over his initial surprise, he discovered that Ronon was a capable pastry chef, who often spent time with the other cooks in the morning, doing his best to recreate Satedan desserts.  Rodney went to investigate, and possibly lick the bowl.

There was no flour, fruit or sugar this time.  Ronon’s crew was industriously cutting vegetables.  “For stew,” Ronon said meaningfully.

Shit.  “Vegetarian?” Rodney asked hopefully.

Ronon gave Rodney a feral grin. 

“Oh, that---that’s great, I’ll just---have to--Radek‘s calling,” Rodney gestured to his ear, and realized belatedly that he wasn’t wearing his radio.  Ronon’s grin hitched up a few more notches. 

Rodney gestured to the door and backed sedately out of the mess.  When he was out of sight, he made a beeline for Zoology.

This is going to be good, Rodney thought gleefully, wishing he’d brought a camera.  On MK-543892, for the purpose of trade-relations, and for a grain that sort of looked like barley but tasted like custard, John was asked to participate in a ceremony where he had to get high and dress in drag. 

“It’s ceremonial wine and a--a priestly robe!” John protested. 

“It’s alien Spanish Fly and a long silk dress,” Rodney crowed, no help at all.  He left John to a giggling flock of attendants for his makeover.

Teyla and Ronon stayed back at the longhouse; Rodney was allowed to observe the ceremony from a balcony in the temple.  He didn’t bother to bring his PDA; he’d already discovered the building to be a useless shell of an Ancient outpost fit only for the likes of linguists and historians.  He sat fidgeting in the overhead darkness, and wished for chocolate.

Rodney couldn’t hear what the priests were saying.  He watched as John was offered a large clay cup.  He drank deeply, throat stretched and working.  Rodney didn’t like the way the priests were looking at his team leader at all.  Then John was led around the hall to various alcoves filled with voodoo junk that was somehow important to these people.  Nothing lit up with the seductive promise of new Ancient technology as John passed, so Rodney couldn’t care less. 

Toward the end, John was swaying on his feet, and ever so subtly leaning into the touch of the attendant holding him up. 

He’s really gorgeous, even though he‘s an idiot, Rodney thought, and no one should be touching him!

Rodney’s guide must have noticed his restlessness.  She had kept so silent, Rodney had completely forgotten she was there. She touched his arm lightly, and he flinched again. “Almost over,” she whispered.
After an eternity and a half it was over, and Rodney was sent to fetch John from the inner sanctum. 

John was already waiting for him in the hallway.  When he spotted Rodney, he grinned his gorgeous, stupid grin, took two steps, and tripped spectacularly on the hem of his skirt.  Rodney picked a snickering John up from off the floor and propped him against the wall to check for injuries.  No one else was around, so Rodney was free to take a good, long look. 

I am a filthy, filthy pervert, Rodney thought.  But I’m not going to stop.

The fabric was blue-black silk.  Tiny buttons down the front were unclasped, carefully careless, to John’s navel.  The garment clung to his arms and thighs and beautiful erection.  There was a slightly darker spot on the fabric below John’s navel, a little off to the left. 

“The wine here is pretty heady,”  Rodney said to John‘s crotch.  “Worse than the Athosian’s.  Teyla said you won’t remember a thing in the morning.”

John whispered something unintelligible.  Rodney dragged his gaze from John’s dick to look up into his eyes.  John’s pupils were blown, and his lower lip was shiny in the lamp light.  He was wearing eyeliner.

“You like this,” Rodney accused softly.  “Being dressed like this, being looked at when you’re dressed like this…”

John opened his mouth to say something, and Rodney silenced him by brushing his thumb across his lips. 

“…being manhandled and looked at while you’re dressed like this.”

John closed his eyes and sucked the tip of Rodney’s thumb into his mouth.  There was the hint of teeth and a hot, swirling tongue. 

Rodney resisted the urge to pull John in and just rut against all that flesh and slippery fabric.  He wanted to push John to his knees and fuck his mouth.  Instead, he took a deep, calming breath and thought about Wraith Queens in bikinis to cool the heat in his pants a little.  Then he stroked his other hand across John’s exposed skin.  He felt fantastic, throat smooth and firm, chest covered with wiry hair over soft skin.

Rodney dropped his hand and rubbed John’s length through the thin fabric once, and John’s legs began to shudder.  Twice, and John made a deep animal sound, and squeezed his eyes shut.  Three times, and John’s head fell back, and he came hard and hot against Rodney’s palm. 

When Rodney stepped back, John dropped to his knees and pressed his lips to the fabric of Rodney’s fly.  With heroic effort, and extreme reluctance, Rodney removed him.  There was taking advantage of a situation, and there was going way the hell too far.  He helped John back to his feet.  Just the thought of that lush mouth around his cock would have Rodney coming in his own hand in about seven seconds, safe in the privacy of his solitary guest room.

Rodney let John catch his breath and helped him to his room.  He helped John clean up and get into boxers, tucked him into bed, and went to find himself a snack.

When Rodney tapped on John’s door in the morning with some aspirin and the local excuse for coffee, John gave no indication he remembered anything.

I’ll tell him some day,
Rodney thought, when I’m in the mood to live dangerously.


~John, Ronon and Teyla left the firing range.  On their way to the mess, Ronon said, “Let’s drop in on McKay,” so they made a detour for the lab.

When Rodney saw them walk in, he jumped to his feet and gestured wildly to one of his minions.  There was some frantic hissing, and John caught the flash of a sheet in the corner of his eye.

Rodney adopted a ridiculously casual pose against a nearby console and asked, “What brings you to, uh…here?”

“We thought you would like to join us for dinner,” Teyla said.

“Vegetable stew after all, McKay,” Ronon said.  “The cat-rabbits went missing.”

Rodney’s eyes drifted helplessly to a sheet covered box in the corner, and he babbled, “Oh, no, they must have escaped, that’s too bad, but I’m not hungry right now, very busy but thankyouverymuch!”  He stretched out his arms and attempted to herd the rest of his team back toward the door.  Ronon stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“I’m not that hungry either,” he said.  “Since I’m here, maybe you can help me.”

Rodney licked his lips and his eyes skittered around, unable to settle anywhere.  “Of course, Ronon, anything you need, can we just--”

“I’m sick of being useless when there’s nothing around for me to kill.  Maybe you can show me some of this science stuff.”

“Ronon is such an asshole,” John whispered to Teyla, with admiration.

Rodney went from terrified to indignant in less than a second.  “What, you think this can be done in three easy lessons?  I’m not saying you’re stupid, but I’ll have you know it takes years to become even remotely useful in the fields of engineering and astrophysics, and do you even understand what it is I do in here?”

“I understand what you do,” Ronon said, sliding a knife out of his dreads. 

Rodney’s eyes went comically wide.

“You take something like this,” Ronon twirled the knife, pivoted, and launched.  The point slammed between the eyes of a crude Wraith doodle on the bulletin board, causing Miko to gasp and Radek to whistle.  “And you turn it into those,” Ronon gestured toward a mess of equations on a whiteboard.  “Until it grows into that,” Ronon said reverently, pointing to another picture on the wall, a satellite photo of a hive ship explosion. 

“Yes, well, I guess--I guess you do have a good albeit extremely basic grasp of…” Rodney trailed off as Ronon approached him slowly, like he was afraid he might bolt. 

“That’s physics as I see it,” Ronon said.  “I know what you do.  And I’m grateful.”  Ronon turned and flashed John a grin, then he took Rodney’s face in his huge hands and kissed him gently on the mouth.  It went on for a while.  Miko tittered and Radek whistled again.

“Ronon is such an asshole!” John said to Teyla, with feeling.

Then he realized Teyla had left his side, and that he and Teyla were both watching the scene like hungry bookends.  He took another peek to confirm her eyes were on Ronon.

When Ronon pulled away, Rodney’s eyes stayed closed.  Ronon leaned in again and nipped at Rodney’s lower lip.  Rodney’s eyes flew open and Ronon grinned and bear-hugged him.

“I’m sorry about the cat-rabbits,” Ronon said.  “I was just messing with you.  They’re not food.”

“Thank goodness,” Miko murmured, and pulled the sheet off of Kirk and Spock.  She and Radek left with the cage, presumably to return it to Zoology.

Then Teyla was grabbing Ronon’s hand, murmuring about having something to show him in her quarters, which answered John’s questions about that.

Then John was left alone in the lab to stare back at Rodney‘s dazed face,  and he was stepping toward Rodney like he was magnetic North, Rodney looking up at him with huge eyes.

Then every alarm went off in the city.

On to Part Two

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[User Picture Icon]
Date:November 8th, 2008 03:45 am (UTC)
oh my god...I think I'm in love with you...
this is just so...devious..and amusing..and.and..*flaily arms*
*runs off to read part two*
[User Picture Icon]
Date:November 8th, 2008 05:46 am (UTC)
Ronon it's mean to tease the geek who stops Atlantis from blowing up. Beaten by the bell, poor boys. “Ronon is such an asshole,” John whispered to Teyla, with admiration......“Ronon is such an asshole!” John said to Teyla, with feeling. the difference a kiss makes :)
[User Picture Icon]
Date:November 8th, 2008 04:00 pm (UTC)
Teasing is love. Thank you for reading!
Date:November 8th, 2008 08:16 am (UTC)
Oh, I'm loving this a lot. Shame on John for using that dreadful slur, & on Ronon for teasing about the poor cat-rabbits! But then Ronon did apologize so nicely, & sincerely, & publicly (& I adore Radek's whistles ;-).... And John tried his giggly best to apologize on The Planet of Drunken Cross-Dressing, even if Rodney distracted him & then put him firmly to bed by himself.

And Ohmigawd that scene between them on TPoDC-D!! ~o_©¨
I don't know which is hotter: John in eyeliner, draped in slinky blue-black silk, head back & begging silently; or Rodney when he says,

“You like this,” Rodney accused softly. “Being dressed like this, being looked at when you’re dressed like this...”

John opened his mouth to say something, and Rodney silenced him by brushing his thumb across his lips.

“...being manhandled and looked at while you’re dressed like this.”

Ooof. :: dry swallow :: Day-um, they're hot.
Running off in hot pursuit of Part 2!
[User Picture Icon]
Date:November 8th, 2008 04:03 pm (UTC)
They do mess with each other in this a lot, don't they? It was hard riding that line between affectionate practical joking and just being mean. Thanks for reading it; I'm glad you liked it...Planet of Drunken Crossdressing...::snort::
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idle-write, all the time