Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis is not mine. :(
Summary: One night, one moment of drug induced lust and now they have to deal with feelings they would never have acknowledged had it not been for that bottle of cheap liquor. McShep.
Author's Notes: I am officially beginning to hate my rather active imagination! Two fiction ideas in less than twenty four hours when I already have, several SG1 fictions, a few Bones ones, Buffy and Angel… and now this on the go. I'm insane to be even contemplating writing any of them.
I started reading slash fiction a few months after I started reading fanfiction at all (about two/three years) I have never actually had any ideas towards the prospect of writing my own slash fiction, I never thought I'd be able to! So here it is, my first slash fiction, random little idea, and as I have never actually written Atlantis before, never mind slash, please, please be nice.
Genre: Honestly? I have no clue.
Chapter 1: Afterglow
The first thing that he became aware of was the fact that he was warm, closely followed by the realisation that he was comfortable, far more so than he had been for… a very long time.
As the fuzzy veil of sleep fell away he immediately began wishing for it's return as his head pounded to the beat of it's own marching band, and annoying bright lights danced across his closed eyelids. Deciding immediately against moving any time before whatever the Atlantis version of Christmas was he went to duck further under the quilt. Stilling in a rather uncanny likeness to a deer caught in headlights when he felt an arm tighten briefly around his body and his 'pillow' shift underneath him.
His eyes snapped open instantly and he scents of things as unfamiliar as they were familiar assaulted his nose. As the 'pillow' moved again, he was able to slip from the tight grip he was being held in and gain a halfway decent look at the back of his bedmate's head.
Dark hair, in its natural 'bedhead' state was sticking up in various directions, in sharp contrast to the white of the pillowcase. One tanned arm curled over the comforter that was pulled up over his body.
Mckay made a noise rather like a squeak and had it been any other situation he would have spent a considerable amount more time being embarrassed by it. At the moment however, far more humiliating factors were at hand, for example; the fact he was completely naked underneath the sheet that had pooled in his lap.
Scrambling backwards he let out a rather undignified yelp when he fell backwards off the bed and landed with a thud on the floor, thankfully taking the sheet with him, he jumped to his feet on reflex, seizing the sheet tightly around his waist. The pain in his head reverberating around his skull so fast all cognitive thought would have been lost had he not already been so speechless.
Sheppard, Colonel John Sheppard, was… he… him… what…
Sheppard groaned and rolled onto his back, his own head hurting so much that simple motion made him nauseous for a second. Stretching, the duvet fell back to his waist as he scrunched up his face at the not-so-nice taste in his mouth that always came with a hangover. Blinking several times so as to get used to the dim lighting in the room he froze and stared at the man stood by his bed. "Rodney?" his hazel eyes widened.
He was so confused by his current state of affairs it was taking for more effort than it should to actually move away from Sheppard's bed and… and… where exactly did he want to be going? His clothes… where were his clothes? They had to be around there somewhere, the very fact that he was standing there wearing nothing but a sheet, not his sheet, a voice in the back of his head informed him, suggested that his clothes would not be far.
But then again he didn't remember getting undressed so there was nothing to prevent the fact that his clothes could be in his own quarters and that he had – Sheppard was staring at him, why was Sheppard staring at him? Oh. Right.
"What're you doing here?" his usual candid tone of forced patience was perfected even at this not-so-ungodly-hour of the day.
When the other man did not speak Sheppard propped himself up on his elbows, the rush of cold air that hit his chest when he did so told him far more than he actually wanted to recognise right now. He was naked, Mckay was naked, and if the look on the genius' face was anything to go by they were both wearing matching expressions of abject horror. "Oh," he said softly in realisation, before looking up again to find that Mckay had disappeared, well not completely as he could be heard muttering to himself somewhere on the floor at the foot of the bed. "Rodney?" he tried again, careful to ensure he stayed decently covered by hastily pulling on a pair of sweatpants that were on the floor next to him.
Thankfully his clothes had been discarded near enough to the bed that he did not have to move very far in his search. As he pulled on a shirt and began a rather hasty search for his socks he began to furiously back-pedal that train of thought. Thankful? That wasn't a good word to use was it? Thankful that his clothes were nearby, yes, thankful that they had been removed in someone else's room no. And what exactly did he think they had gotten up to last night. Bad word, bad word, very bad word. God his head was killing him.
"Rodney," Sheppard's voice was insistent, growing ever more impatient, and the very last thing he wanted to hear right now.
So as he got to his feet, finally having succeeded in his impromptu mission to find both his socks and his boots he ignored the Colonel's attempts at… whatever he was trying to attempt. He opened his mouth to say something, what he had no idea, it took a moment for him to form a proper sentence and even then it was a simple "I… have to go," that sounded rather too dazed for his liking.
The door shut behind him and Sheppard was left standing there, resisting the overwhelming urge to let his jaw drop.
"Rodney!" Elizabeth came around the corner; her tone sounded less than pleased with him "I've been calling you for the past hour, where have you been?"
He gave her an odd look, which she returned with impatience, bringing a hand to his ear he bit back a groan when he realised his radio wasn't there.
"Are you alright?" she asked sincerely, reaching out to touch his arm, for reasons unfathomed to him he shied away "Rodney?"
"I'm fine Elizabeth," he assured her before steering away from that particular venue and inwardly delighted at the opportunity she had unknowingly presented him with so as he could keep his thoughts strictly work-related. "What did you want?"
She ignored his efforts "are you sure you're okay? Maybe you should go see Carson,"
He thought about shaking his head and immediately regretted it, when the full force of his headache came rushing forwards. His stomach was churning and he had no idea whether or not it was the hangover or his body remembering the previous night before his mind, whatever it was, it was highly unwanted.
Carson couldn't fix this, whatever 'this' was, it was just… "I think I will,"
"I think you jus' drank a wee bit too much last night Rodney," Beckett said with a teasing smile on his face as he removed the strap from round his friend's upper arm as he finished checking his blood pressure "nothin' a nice sleep and some decent food won't cure,"
Mckay gave him a tight smile and nodded curtly, sat on the infirmary bed he was forced to either look up at Carson or look away, he chose the latter for the time being.
"Is everythin' okay?" he voiced his concern.
"Yeah, yeah everything's fine," he answered rather to quickly for Carson's liking and he was forced to give him a reassuring look in order for the steely gaze to be lifted.
"Why don' t you go and get yourself somethin' to eat? Colonel Sheppard just passed by an' I think he's lookin' for you," with that the CMO went back to his office, satisfied that his patient was as well as could be expected having consumed what looked to be rather a copious amount of alcohol the previous night.
Hangover, he'd known that already, the headache pills he had been given should kick in reasonably soon which gave no obvious reason as to why he couldn't just go straight to his office. There was food in there, always was, it was easier to eat in there than have to go all the way down the mess hall when he was half way through a project.
Refusing to even contemplate any further down the track that ended with a hangover he tactically avoided the mess hall and went straight to his office.
Sheppard frowned, Beckett's pain pills would work wonders soon enough and just as soon as his head was clear enough to actually co-ordinate a proper search which didn't have 'desperate need to stick head down the toilet' every ten steps then all would be fine. Then he could try and first find Rodney, then figure out what in the hell had happened.
The only problems in the formulation of such a plan were that a) were those to items on his agenda the wrong way around? And b) wasn't it already blatantly obvious what had happened?
It was a plausible idea that they had both gotten drunk, and simply gone to sleep together through no fault of their own just an innocent accident. However the severe lack of clothing upon waking and the dull ache of the rest of his body that was neither irritating nor uncomfortable just an ugly reminder of how little sleep he had gotten since the expedition had started. Said that they had taken the teenage euphemism 'sleeping together' to its more literal term.
There had been no reason for them getting so drunk last night; it had just seemed like a good idea at the time. He had a vague recollection of seeing Rodney outside, overlooking the city, he'd seemed depressed and so the offer of a drink had been a friendly gesture, which had been accepted with little fuss and no sound and logical argument.
The mess hall was fairly quiet but a low buzz of chatter still prevented any complete string of conversation to actually permeate anyone but it's intended audience's ears. Snagging a bottle of water and for a second contemplating a piece of fruit but as his gaze landed on the oranges, a dozen thoughts at once started to swirl around his head. He thought better of it, and headed over to where Ronon had raised a lazy hand in beckoning.
"John," Teyla smiled warmly as he slid into place next to Ronon at the table "how are you this morning?"
"Good," he smiled back at the mild natured Athosian and opened the water absently "have either of you see Mckay?"
Ronon bit into his apple "he was in the infirmary last I saw," he said casually, staring at the piece of fruit in his hand with feigned interest, his normal tone of bored indifference shining through. He shrugged as if something he had been contemplating now proved to be of little importance and took another bite.
Sheppard nodded thoughtfully, okay, so what now? He certainly felt a little contemptuous for the scientist's abrupt departure but then again he'd been just as freaked, until things started coming back into focus as the cobwebs of sleep fell from his brain. Sipping at the water slowly he noticed his headache was slowly disappearing and with every second that past the memory came back clearer. He'd had sex with Rodney Mckay.
He wasn't sure how he felt about the fact he didn't shudder at that point. At first glance Mckay was abrasive, rude and inconsiderate but as you got to know him he was nicer than that, he did care, maybe even too much, and his defences were way to high to be anywhere in the vicinity of comfortable.
He'd done the guy thing of checking out the competition, perfectly normal behaviour, assessing potential threats and allies, was what he had been trained to do, albeit not in the sense he was thinking about. He would even go as far as to say that they were some attractive men on base, same as their were women, but he had never felt the desperate need to clamp down on an urge to jump any of them.
When he noticed Ronon was staring at him with his eyebrow quirked he smiled his usual little smile and got to his feet "I'll see you guys later," he excused himself from the hall and decided that his urgent search for Mckay could wait, he had some thinking to do.
Mckay groaned under his breath, rubbing furiously at his temples, the painkillers were proving to be of little use to him and the equations on screen had been easy yesterday, but then again his mind hadn't been wandering every two seconds.
Reaching for the coffee mug to his right his mood worsened somewhat as he discovered it was empty. But then of course it would be empty because he hadn't even turned on the coffee maker in the corner this morning, never mind actually poured himself a mug. Caffeine was not a good thing to add to a headache but dammit it couldn't get much worse.
Running a hand across his face he took a breath and looked back at the screen, fingers poised over the keys as he slowly tapped in the resulting calculations with far more concentration required than he wanted to admit.
Still the images continued to float into his head, much as he wanted to ignore them they were vibrant and even though no noise could technically be heard he could still remember the fervent breathing that had filled his ears, the feel of hands on his skin... he shivered, now was so not the time to be watching porno movies in his head, especially when they included himself and John Sheppard, a man. Colonel Carter yes, that woman was… well… she just was.
There was no real words he could think of to describe her. Imagining having sex with her was acceptable. No! Imagining sex of any kind in his office was wrong. In the privacy of his shower yes, even his bedroom but not in his office.
The sheer beauty of the city never ceased to amaze him, it seemed to have a constant ethereal glow that reflected off the ocean that surrounded it. Even the vast expanses of water were some how 'magical' compared to that of Earth.
He tapped the bottle of water absently against the railing as his eyes skimmed across the landscape in front of him.
Sex with Rodney.
Either it didn't bother him as much now as it had before or it hadn't actually hit him yet. He had never had sex with another guy so there was no way to actually be sure when and if the disgust would kick in. It wasn't that he was opposed to the idea of two people of the same sex sleeping together it was simply he had never seen any man he was drawn to like that. The idea of sex with Mckay did not repulse him, Rodney was a good-looking guy, his personality left much to be desired, but physically he was… nice.
He smirked. Nice. A hell of a word to use there Shep. He took a swig of water, the breeze lifting off the ocean easing the remnants of his headache effortlessly.
He wasn't fine with it, in fact he was pretty sure he was a spooked as Rodney was about the whole thing, but it seemed they each had different ways of dealing with things like that. Drunken sex was definitely not unheard of, it happened all the time, just not usually to him, at least not in this way.
Although sex whilst drunk usually had thoughts of guilt and regret tagged along with the inescapable hangover, at the moment, he could conjure up none and was a little disorientated to find that out. Okay, he thought, think Mckay. Dark hair, broad shoulders, muscular arms and chest… pale faced expression of horror and shock on his face in the dim light of Sheppard's bedroom… what the hell had they done?
Author's Notes: A little weird I know but I have no clue how that turned out, states of mind etc, were probably way off and – you know what? I ain't sit here and type all the problems I see with this. Review if you liked it, DON'T if you don't and defintely NO flames. I haven't a clue how long this is gonna be yet but it all depends on which path I choose to take from this point forwards. Please remember I have never written slash before so just be nice, please?