Letters

by Kylie Lee

URL: http://www.area52hkh.net/ask/klee/letters.php
Summary: Letters. Words. Thoughts. Actions

'And how did that make you feel?'

'Annoyed. Angry.'

'Anything else?'

'Oh, that was just the A's. B, for bitter. C for contemplative. D for--'

'D for what?'

'Apparently I'm stuck at C.'

'So annoyed, angry, bitter, and contemplative.'

'It should really be angry, annoyed, bitter, and contemplative. Let's go all the way with the alphabetical order.'

'I get angry and annoyed. Why bitter?'

'Because it starts with B.'

'Dr. McKay.'

'Oh, I don't know. Are you going to tell me that nothing I say is meaningless? That B for bitter isn't just the first B word that popped into my head that seemed to fit the rhetorical situation, but really has some hidden meaning?'

'Would you like me to tell you that?'

'Oh, now you're just toying with me. Ha ha. Dr. Heightmeyer, you are a very beautiful woman.'

'Thank you. Tell me about B for bitter.'

'Actually, I had a point with that remark. It's related to C, for contemplative.'

'Then let's hear it.'

'I am perfectly capable of playing let's make a deal with attractive women, without turning it into something that's all about sex.'

'So you're saying you can separate attraction from business.'

'Exactly. That's exactly it. C for contemplation leads me to B for bitter. After contemplating the situation, I have realized that I am bitter because I thought better of John Sheppard. He let attraction get in the way of reasoned analysis.'

'Everyone makes a decision on the basis of a number of criteria, Dr. McKay: experience, reason, knowledge, and gut. Do you think maybe Major Sheppard went with his gut on this one? That it informed, but did not drive, his decision?'

'I do not think that at all. I think he went with his dick. There's your D word. D is for dick. And you know? C is not for contemplation. C is for Chaya.'

'The Ancient woman Major Sheppard brought to Atlantis, to try to negotiate a sanctuary from the Wraith on her planet.'

'Yes.'

'The woman Major Sheppard was involved with.'

'Yes. I am angry that Major Sheppard immediately treated her with trust and intimacy, when she did not have to earn it. I feel betrayed--another B word--I feel betrayed that he put her snow job above the reasoned advice of his friends and colleagues, including me. I fear--'

'What do you fear?'

'I fear that this event has breached my trust. I fear that Major Sheppard's actions will break apart the team, because he did something so--so--so breathtakingly stupid that I won't be able to forgive him and I won't be able to work with him or trust him ever again.'

'Why do you feel so strongly about this? Everything worked out. She deceived us, but no one was hurt.'

'That's not the point. Betrayal, Dr. Heightmeyer. B, for betrayal.'

And D for destroyed.

***

'It's a game,' Carson Beckett told Teyla.

'For the record, I have never heard of this game,' Sheppard said.

'I have,' McKay said.

'Of course you have,' Sheppard retorted.

Beckett ignored them. 'Here, I'll provide an example. I love my love with a T, because she is terrific and tragic. Her name is Teyla--' Beckett wagged his eyebrows at her, and she laughed--'and she lives in Toronto, where she works as a telegrapher. Her favorite food is tomatoes, and in her spare time, she tap-dances.'

'Telegrapher?' McKay asked.

'Very rare, telegraphers, these days, it's true,' Beckett agreed. 'I can see you tap dancing, though, Teyla.'

Sheppard snorted.

'And this is?' Teyla asked.

'A kind of dance where you make noise with your feet in patterns, so it's part sound and part dance.' Beckett pushed away from the dinner table and, from his chair, did a little dance with his feet. 'But with skill, of course. Come now, who's studied tap dancing? Who can demonstrate to Teyla?'

To McKay's surprise, Elizabeth Weir said, 'I have.' She stood up. 'It's been a while. Let me see. Okay.' As they all watched, she did a short routine, complete with showy stomps, turns, and flourishing arms. They all applauded her big finish, as did onlookers in the dining hall who had turned to watch. She bowed and sat back down, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling. 'And that was from, um, tenth grade. I never turned pro. My mother was so disappointed.' She took a sip of water. 'I love my love with an R.'

Sheppard and Aidan Ford hooted, and Sheppard threw a piece of roll at McKay.

'I love my love with an R, because he's regal and reclusive. His name is Rodney, and he lives in--in--help me out here--'

Ford leapt in. 'He lives in Rochester, where he works as a--as a registrar.' He pointed at Sheppard, a tacit 'go.'

Sheppard obliged. 'His favorite food is ravioli, and in his spare time, he rototills.'

'Lovely,' McKay said. 'Lovely. Thank you so much.' He leaned forward. 'I love my love with a J.'

'Oh, boy,' Sheppard said, holding his hands up as if in surrender.

'I love my love with a J, because he is joyous and juvenile. His name is John, and he lives in Jakarta, where he works as a joiner. His favorite food is Jell-O, and in his spare time, he juggles.'

'What the hell is a joiner?' Sheppard demanded.

'Like in woodworking.'

'Okay. I can live with that.'

'See, love, a vocabulary game,' Beckett told Teyla. 'Very educational. Try one.'

'I love my love with an E,' Teyla said obediently.

'Oh! She's cut me!' Beckett said, placing his hands over his heart. 'I had hoped for love with a C, for Carson.'

'E for Elizabeth is far more politic,' Weir said. 'You interest me, Teyla. Do go on.'

'Much as I'd adore to stay and hear about loving with an E, I must go meet Dr. Zelenka,' McKay announced, standing up and picking up his tray.

'I've got to go too,' Sheppard said. 'Keep going, Teyla.'

'I love my love with an E,' Teyla began, and McKay left, Sheppard trailing him.

'Silly games,' Sheppard said as they dropped off their trays. 'Ah, those zany kids!'

'Carson is teaching Teyla how to read English,' McKay said.

'Really? I didn't know that.'

'Shockingly, there is much you don't know.'

Sheppard followed McKay out the door and jogged to come abreast. 'Okay, Rodney? What is up? Because you are driving me crazy lately. What did I do?'

'Joyous and juvenile,' McKay said. The former was a quality he liked. The latter was not. Unfortunately, they went hand in hand. He wasn't surprised that Sheppard had finally said something. McKay had been impossible for a week now, and he couldn't seem to stop. He also knew that he couldn't answer Sheppard's question.

'Fine.'

'Jell-O. Yes. Have you ever been to Jakarta?'

'No. Also, I do not do joining or woodworking or whatever you called it, and I cannot juggle.'

'Silly games,' McKay sighed.

'Rodney.' Sheppard caught McKay's arm, stopping him, and faced him down. 'Look, I'm sorry. I don't know what I did, but whatever it is, I'll never do it again. Please stop with the wise-ass remarks and the personal comments. It's affecting our working relationship.'

'None of this is new,' McKay pointed out.

Sheppard shook his head. 'It's not cluelessness or abrasion or--or impatience, like it usually is, Rodney. You're being deliberate. You're being mean.'

'I'm being mean.' McKay looked Sheppard in the eye and crossed his arms. 'So J for juvenile was wonderfully apropos. I thought so.'

'McKay, whatever it is, get over it. Get over it now.' Sheppard held his eyes in a long, level stare, then turned and left.

McKay headed for the lab to meet Zelenka. 'I love my love with a J,' he muttered. It wasn't love, it couldn't be, not really. And yet. 'Because he is joyous.'

***

'It's a veritable alphabet of descriptive nouns, all about John Sheppard. T for trust. B for betrayal. P for perverse. A for apples.'

'Why do you feel the need to pack your emotions into discrete words? Not everything is fraught.'

'I love that you use words like 'fraught.''

'Address my point, Dr. McKay.'

'Why don't you call me Rodney?'

'Because I think you prefer the deference that goes with the honorific. It provides you with the distance required to open up--a kind of safe space, bounded by your intelligence, which in turn is symbolized by your degrees. It permits you to speak because it places you on a level footing with me, thereby allowing you to think that you are discussing an academic topic of interest with a colleague, rather than being placed in the passive position of the analysand. In short, it alters your subject position in a manner I find useful.'

'Okay, Kate, I'm actually surprised. I didn't think you'd really tell me.'

'I'd prefer that you address me as Dr. Heightmeyer.'

'It was just a test.'

'Tell me why you're packing your feelings about John Sheppard into single words.'

'I don't know.'

'Just try. Sound it out.'

'Sound it out. That's very clever. Okay. I think--actually, I think it's related to the scientific method. I get that my feelings are all messy and irrational and stupid. They've exploded everywhere. I'm not good at compartmentalizing that stuff. If I can label it and give it a word, then it follows that I should be able to control--to control their strength. I must also admit that I like to play with the words' connotations.'

'Feelings, Dr. McKay.'

'The feelings are unruly. Inappropriate.'

'Inappropriate how? Dr. McKay? Inappropriate how?'

'The sheer strength is inappropriate. I can't get an objective distance. The scientist in me is shocked. Shocked and appalled. I should be able to move past this, for the sake of the team.'

'For the sake of the team? Or for the sake of salvaging your relationship, your friendship, with Major Sheppard?'

'Both.'

'You mentioned that he called you out. Your phrase.'

'Yes, a couple days ago. He told me that whatever it was, I should get over it. Of course he's right. Except I can't. And he's such a perfect target. He sets himself up, and it's so easy to shoot him down.'

'Fish in a barrel?'

'Precisely.'

'Hardly sporting.'

'But oh so satisfying.'

'All right. We have ten more minutes. Let's pick one word and unpack it.'

That one was easy. B for betrayal.

***

McKay drew a circle from the pencil drawing of a gallows. It represented a head. 'Nope,' he said cheerfully, adding an O for a surprised mouth and X's for dead eyes. 'There is no P.' He wrote P and then crossed it out, then tossed the notebook to Beckett.

'Vowels, obviously.' Beckett pondered. 'I should have begun with vowels. All right. A.'

He handed the notebook back. McKay wrote in two A's.

'How is Teyla's English coming along?'

'Quite well. She has excellent pattern recognition, and of course she reads and writes six languages already. She finds the spelling senseless, but that's to be expected. We only pretend that English is phonetic. Um, E.'

'No E.' McKay added a body and a struck-out E. 'I next?'

'Yes.'

'Two of those. O and U?'

'And sometimes Y.'

McKay added a few more body parts, crossed out the O and U, and added a Y at the end of the word. 'Why are we playing hangman?' he asked.

'To pass the time.'

'Ah.'

'While we're whiling away the hours, why don't you tell me about Major Sheppard?'

'What about him?' McKay tapped his pencil on Beckett's office desk. They'd just had lunch together.

'You must have had a row, because when the two of you are in the same room, people long for bomb shelters.'

'Surely you exaggerate.'

'Alas, no. Do you have any L's?'

'Alas, no.' Another body part, another crossed-out letter. 'Go fish.'

'The man cannot imagine what he has done to warrant such treatment. What has he done?'

'Nothing.'

'So you're just tetchy?'

'Yes. It's all my fault. I'm tetchy. I'm impossible to get along with. You should know. Letter?'

'R.'

'Yes, there is an R.'

'I'll suss it out. Give me time.'

McKay indicated the hanged man on the yellow page of the notebook. 'You don't have time. You're dying fast. Will Teyla be able to play this?'

'I think so. I rather hope the death symbolism doesn't shock her. N.'

'You're in luck.' McKay added the N. 'You may escape with your life yet.'

'Dr. Zelenka came to see me. He wanted to know if I could speak with you, talk some sense into you.'

McKay smiled. 'Oh, is that what he meant when we had that confusing conversation?'

'I assume so, yes. Apparently it's reached truly breathtaking proportions, and people fear that fisticuffs will ensue.'

'Because it's all code, yes? The wise-ass remarks?'

'It conceals antipathy. R. No, I said R. The R is right there. Um, G.'

'A lucky guess.'

'It's not luck, lad, it's skill.'

'Yes. Right. Sorry.'

'Dr. Beckett?'

Beckett turned to take in the nurse at the door of his office. 'Yes?' he told him.

'Your three o'clock is here.'

Beckett sighed and stood up. 'Just--think about what we've talked about. We have to work with you, you know.'

'Back off, Rodney?' McKay said ironically.

'Yes, please. Thank you.'

As Beckett left, McKay, using all caps, wrote in the rest of the letters. It spelled IMAGINARY.

***

'Last session, we talked about B for betrayal.'

'Yep. Well I remember. Do we do another letter today?'

'We do not. I think we need to get past letters.'

'Oh, you mean move beyond words to whole phrases?'

'Past that. I want to get to what the words signify, the emotion the word represents for you. I want to help you give you permission for your emotions to be unruly--to resist your desire to alter their strength.'

'Scientists dislike unruly.'

'Not everything has to be logical or make sense.'

'Well, actually, I think it does. Which is why I'm here: to think things through logically, to make things make sense.'

'Is it helpful?'

'I suppose so. I came to you, after all. And it wasn't just a ploy to get to spend so much time with you.'

'Dr. McKay, I'm troubled that you continually attempt to switch the discussion from you to me. This is the third time you've made what could be construed as a personal remark.'

'Is it inappropriate? Have I offended you?'

'It is telling.'

'Ah. What does it tell you?'

'That part of the conversation we're having has to do with inappropriate feelings for coworkers.'

'I know that. I said that last time.'

'Excuse me. I meant romantic feelings.'

'Are you saying I'm in love with you?'

'Not at all.'

'You speak so quickly. I adore you. I would die for you, Dr. Heightmeyer, even though we're not on a first-name basis. Your eyes--your hair--if only I could compose a poem that properly expressed my devotion. Something unusual--let's say trochaic heptameter. And I think I can come up with something pretty darn special in a rhyme scheme.'

'Love isn't a patterned response. It isn't a sonnet.'

'It's unruly. You want me to say that it's unruly.'

'I don't want you to say anything, Dr. McKay. Let's turn the conversation away from love and back to permission.'

'Would granting permission help me work through this?'

'That is my hope.'

'And then I could just let it lie there, let it be unruly, let the emotions stay strong, never fade, and somehow--somehow move on?'

'Right. Although they will fade, given time.'

'Okay, that's crap. C is for crap.'

'Why?'

'I've identified it! It's strong! It's unruly! I can't get past it! I'm trying and it's not working!'

'What do you suggest?'

'What do <i>you</i> suggest?'

'I don't suggest anything.'

'Well, I wish you would, Dr. Kate Heightmeyer.'

'Well, then, since you ask: C is for confrontation.'

'What?'

'You want advice? I'll give you advice. You can work through it yourself; or you can seek confrontation in an attempt to force catharsis.'

'I'm Canadian. We don't do confrontation. That's why I'm here. What, I'm going to go to Major Sheppard and say, you betrayed my trust with Chaya, you put the words of a stranger before mine because you were thinking with your prick, you're Captain Kirk with the beautiful alien babe, and fuck you for fucking her? How is that, in any way, going to help my relationship with him? How?'

'Dr. McKay, come back. Dr. McKay. Rodney!'

R is for retreat.

***

Heightmeyer knew. She knew, and she had danced around it, to save him from having to say it. He would never, ever talk about how he really felt about John Sheppard, and she knew it. Instead, she tossed down oblique references like gauntlets. He should have been pleased that she thought so much of his ability to infer. Oh, he could infer, all right. Give him information, and he could draw inferences like nobody's business. He was a scientist. He was fucking brilliant. He could make leaps of logic like other people made leaps of faith.

Everyone had noticed that he'd been more annoying than usual, even Zelenka, which was amazing, considering that the man was barely aware of anything but his current research project. Every time he remembered running into Sheppard coming out of Chaya's room, when he realized that they had become lovers, he felt a terrible anger, a terrible betrayal. The betrayal, the anger, were spreading. Maybe eventually it would all bleed out of him, infecting everyone around him.

'C is for catharsis,' he muttered.

Of course he hadn't told Sheppard what had upset him. But at the time, he'd made his position clear: Chaya couldn't be trusted, and they should take the simplest precautions. Weir had agreed; she had okayed a scan. His position had not been irrational. Sheppard's had been. Sheppard's had been based on blind faith, on sexual attraction, on the notion that beauty and good were synonymous.

He lifted up his hand and knocked, and after a few seconds, John Sheppard opened the door.

'McKay,' he said, surprised. He held a thick book in one hand, finger holding his place. 'Everything okay?'

Why was he here? He hadn't planned on being here. He would much rather not be here. He would much rather be in his own room, getting ready for bed. He imagined that he had a message, if not two, from Heightmeyer to ignore.

'Not so much,' McKay said. 'Can I come in?'

Sheppard stepped aside. 'Sure.'

He should talk. He had all the words, because he and Heightmeyer had unpacked them: he could skip A for annoyed, because that was obvious, and head right for B for betrayal before working his way down the alphabet. He could begin by saying, 'Remember, like, a month ago, that Ancient woman, Chaya? Well, I'm still mad about that.' Instead, he said, 'U is for unruly.'

'U is for unruly?' Sheppard repeated.

McKay waved his hands in the air. 'Not neat. Intractable. Willful. Wayward.'

'Is this a comment about my hair again? Because--not so funny anymore.'

'No. It's not even about you. It's about me.'

'What's about you?'

'Unruliness. The way I feel is unruly. I have messy emotions. They kind of exploded everywhere.'

'Your emotions always do that. You're Rodney 'We're All Going To Die' McKay.'

'That's pragmatic fatalism. A Canadian thing you would know nothing about. Sure, my emotions explode everywhere, and then I move on. Not so much with the moving on lately.'

Sheppard dog-eared a page in his book and tossed it on the unmade bed. It looked like he was a third of the way through <i>War and Peace.</i> 'You're making very little sense,' Sheppard said.

'You pissed me off incredibly,' McKay said. A is for anger. 'It's about Chaya, about how you just accepted her, no questions asked, even though she set off alarm bells--I mean, literally, alarm bells, when she touched that biometric device Grodin was working on.' B is for betrayal. 'I haven't been able to get over it, and I guess I needed to tell you why.' C was for contemplation. C was for confrontation.

'Chaya?' Sheppard was saying blankly.

Oh, he'd forgotten that one. C was for Chaya.

'So I've been taking how I feel out on you. I was really hurt that you'd consider what she said more strongly than what I said. You're right, what you said the other day: I've been taking potshots at you. It's because of that. I'm sorry. I'll try to stop.'

Sheppard sounded cautious. 'Well, thank you.'

He'd said what he'd come to say, only, like Heightmeyer, he was dancing around it, never saying the real thing that underlay how he felt. He could talk about betrayal all he wanted, but the real betrayal was still unspoken. Sheppard wouldn't be able to infer a damn thing from what McKay had just revealed.

He couldn't say it.

'Okay. That's all. I should--I should go.'

'Thanks for coming by.' Sheppard turned to precede him to the door, the polite host.

He couldn't say it. If he was going to say it, he had to say it now, or he would never, ever say it, and Heightmeyer would poke and poke and poke, until the subtext became so glaringly obvious that text would ensue.

And he still couldn't say it. Sheppard reached for the door control, and he wasn't going to say it. He was going to walk out without speaking about why his emotions had remained so unruly for so long, why Chaya had been a personal betrayal, not a professional one.

'John.'

Sheppard turned. The door was still shut. 'What? For god's sake, Rodney, what?'

'The thing with Chaya.' A pause. 'I want you to know why it bugs me, just bugs me incredibly.'

'Why?'

McKay crossed to Sheppard and put his hands on Sheppard's neck. Before Sheppard could do anything more than look surprised, McKay leaned in and gently kissed him on the lips. 'Because she got you, just like that. Because I want you and can't have you.' He stroked Sheppard's jaw with a thumb, taking in Sheppard's stunned expression. His nose bumped Sheppard's, and their lips touched again. And that feeling that swept over him: it wasn't love, or attraction, or desire. It was panic. He'd just given Sheppard all the cards, all the power. He'd just given Sheppard everything.

'Rodney.'

'John.'

'I think--I think you should go.'

'Yes. Of course.' His fingers felt the beginnings of stubble when he drew his hand back.

He let himself out.

***

'Confrontation.'

'Yes. Confrontation. You seem surprised.'

'I admit, Dr. McKay, that I am.'

'Okay, I know you're squeezing me in here. I just wanted you to know that I don't feel better. It wasn't cathartic. My troubles have not burned away in the fiery heat of self-revelation.'

'Give it time. How do you feel?'

'I don't feel angry, annoyed, betrayed, bitter, or contemplative. I feel sick to my stomach.'

'What can I do?'

'You can expect me at our usual time next week.'

'Good.'

D is for defer.

***

McKay indicated the computer, grinding away. 'It's almost done.' He was burning a DVD for Zelenka with some information he'd requested.

Zelenka straightened up. He'd been peering at McKay's mementoes, scattered here and there around McKay's quarters. 'No hurry,' he said. 'Sorry I didn't think of this earlier.'

'No problem.'

'What did you do to Major Sheppard?'

'What?' McKay raised his eyebrows in what he hoped looked like polite surprise. 'Do to him?'

'He avoids you. He sees you, and he runs away.'

'Oh. That. I had a talk with him a couple days ago. We had--words.' Of course, it had been McKay speaking without words, but he thought he'd made his point. 'Once we go offworld again, it'll be fine. I'm sure our rapport will return.'

'Major Sheppard has been snapping at everybody. You have been snapping at everybody. You two should talk.'

'Fine. I'll talk to him tomorrow.'

'Good.'

McKay's computer beeped, signifying that the burn was complete, just as someone knocked. 'Can you get the door?' he asked, staring at the computer as he exited a program. 'This is done.'

'Major Sheppard,' Zelenka said, and McKay looked up sharply, then returned his eyes to the computer screen.

'Dr. Zelenka,' Sheppard said, his voice lazy and familiar. 'Are you guys having a meeting or something?'

'No, come in. Dr. McKay is making me a disk.'

McKay spared a glance for Sheppard as he popped out the DVD. He was being ostentatiously busy. 'It's late,' he said.

'Yeah, well, I wanted a quick word. If now's convenient.'

'Now is convenient,' Zelenka said, striding across the room. 'My disk? Thank you. I will leave you two gentlemen alone to speak together.' He left without a backward glance.

McKay cleared his throat as he shut his computer down. 'Dr. Zelenka has noticed some...tension between us. He hopes we can work it out soon so everything can get back to normal.'

'Wow. Zelenka?'

'I know. He seems so oblivious usually.' McKay stood up. It was time to get the awkward make-up conversation over with. He'd had the conversation before, so he knew how it went. 'Let me make this easy for you. Yes, I freaked you out. Yes, I kissed you. Yes, I want you. No, I don't expect to have you. No, you don't have to reciprocate. Yes, we can work together. Yes, I am okay with being colleagues and/or friends. No, we don't ever have to bring this up again. And no, I won't make any other moves.'

Sheppard opened his mouth, then closed it. 'I'm so glad we had this conversation,' he said.

'Yes, isn't it nice that we can talk like this?' McKay made a shooing motion with his hand. 'Go home. It's getting late. Go to bed.'

'This isn't going how I planned,' Sheppard said. He looked distinctly uncomfortable.

'It so rarely does,' McKay said.

'I'm not in love with her, you know.'

'I don't need an explanation,' McKay said. 'It's your business, not mine. It's fine. It's all good. We'll go through the Gate tomorrow on another action-packed adventure, and it'll be just like old times.'

'I just really, really need you to know that I don't love her.'

McKay frowned, mystified. 'I got it,' he said. 'Are we okay, then?'

Sheppard hesitated. 'No,' he said. He repeated it, more firmly this time: 'No.'

'Oh.'

'Look, I had a thing to say, I was all ready to say it, and then you fucked it up by being Zelenka.'

'I'm not Zelenka.'

'You know what I mean. He opened the door and wasn't you.' Sheppard paused, struck. 'You and Dr. Zelenka aren't--aren't--'

'No. No, no, no, no, no.' McKay leaned against his desk. 'Definitely not. In case you haven't noticed, he carries a torch that burns brightly for our own Elizabeth Weir. I personally think it's sweet, yet futile. So what were you going to say?'

Sheppard came over and leaned next to him. 'You really surprised me the other day,' he said. 'I wasn't--you just really surprised me.'

McKay waited. Sheppard had moved so that he wouldn't have to look McKay in the eye. McKay knew from experience that that sometimes made it easier to say something difficult. He braced himself for a slow-motion version of the conversation he'd just tried to summarize, taking in Sheppard's sharp profile, his unruly hair. U for unruly--like his thoughts about Sheppard.

'So I needed some time to think.' Sheppard drummed his fingers on the desk. 'I had to think about it because of the whole military thing, because it would be easier not to. What you want. What I want. What I need. And now I'm done thinking. Now it's time to act. Like you acted when you--when you kissed me. '

He pushed himself away from the desk and stood in front of McKay. He took one of McKay's hands in his and entwined their fingers. When he looked up, his eyes pierced McKay's, and McKay had only a moment to prepare for Sheppard's kiss before Sheppard's lips touched his. A feeling composed of equal parts of terror, excitement, and desire swept through him, so he barely noticed when Sheppard wove fingers into his hair, pulling his head close, and then it was all heat and warmth and pressure, Sheppard's tongue and Sheppard's body pressing against his, and then there were no words for how he felt, no words at all.

Little gasps turned into moans, and the press of Sheppard's body against his wasn't enough. He needed to touch skin, so he did, tugging Sheppard's shirt aside so he could run his hands over Sheppard's bare back. Sheppard leaned into him and rubbed, then pulled at McKay's shirt so they could press their bare stomachs together as they explored. Sheppard had a greedy mouth, pushy and exploring, and McKay loved it, loved the way Sheppard got him to open up. One of them would make a little desperate noise, and the other would immediately try to assuage the need: McKay sucked on Sheppard's earlobe, Sheppard licked McKay's neck, McKay ran a thumb over Sheppard's nipple, Sheppard bit McKay's lower lip and then kissed it better. McKay grabbed Sheppard's ass and pulled him into his erection, and Sheppard responded by undoing McKay's pants so he could grab McKay's bare ass, kneading it. As Sheppard steered McKay backward to the unmade bed, McKay tripped over his pants, so he sprawled on the bed.

McKay turned long enough to shove printouts, books, and disks onto the floor, and when he turned back, Sheppard had taken off his shirt and was stepping out of shoes as he undid his pants. Then he was nude, and McKay had barely any time at all to appreciate the chest--the arms--the hard dick--before Sheppard leaned down and ripped off McKay's pants. McKay barely had time to strip off his shirt before Sheppard was on top of him, pushing him down. Finally, finally, nude body pressed against nude body, and it was much better, because Sheppard's skin needed McKay to touch it, and when he did, Sheppard moaned and reached out to him.

McKay's mouth lingered on Sheppard's body, learning all of it: the inside of the crook of his arm, his armpit, his ribs, his nipple, his belly button. He licked down to Sheppard's cock and took that in his mouth next, stroking with his tongue, dipping his head to take in as much as he could, because Sheppard filled his mouth, hot and hard, and he had needed that for a long time. He was unable to stop sucking, unable to make it last, unable to be gentle or teasing. Sheppard writhed under him. His hips lifted, and he made noises in the back of his throat until he found words again: 'god,' he said, and 'Rodney,' and 'please,' and 'now.'

The taste was too much, too pointed. It tasted of unbearably sharp pleasure. When Sheppard relaxed back, moaning, McKay kissed his way back up, adding salt to the sharpness, until he found Sheppard's mouth again. Sheppard responded immediately, his tongue licking the inside of his mouth, tasting himself. He rolled on top of McKay, and McKay felt Sheppard's body slide against his. McKay's cock throbbed as Sheppard pinned him down, and Sheppard began to kiss his way down. He spent a long time on McKay's nipples, swirling his tongue roughly over them until they were incredibly sensitive. He rubbed his face against McKay's stomach. He wasn't being gentle. He pushed hard and aggressively, so the touch lingered even when he'd moved on. When he took the head of McKay's cock in his mouth, McKay had to close his eyes. Sheppard tongued the sensitive slit for what seemed like an eternity, until McKay could open his eyes, until he was right on the edge. Then Sheppard took all of him in, over and over again, in broad, sweeping pulls, fast and hard. Sheppard's fingers dug into McKay's hips, and the hot warmth didn't stop. McKay said 'John' as white heat consumed him, and then he couldn't think at all.

'Oh, god,' he gasped when he could talk again. His body had gone boneless. 'Oh, Jesus. I didn't--oh, god.' He hadn't expected this, any of this. He had expected closure, catharsis, nothing else, but instead of the fiery heat of self-revelation he'd mentioned to Heightmeyer, he felt the glowing embers of contentment that followed the fiery heat of a long, hot orgasm.

Sheppard released his dick and licked it. 'Move over,' he ordered breathlessly, and McKay moved. He found that Sheppard fit into his side perfectly. He took in Sheppard's sharp profile, the unruly hair that was much unrulier than usual, the heavy-lidded eyes, the ironic half-smile, and felt nothing as much as amazement. What they'd done--what he'd felt--how he felt now, content and tender and touchy--it was a nice contrast to the sense of absolute futility that had driven all his conversations with Heightmeyer. 'I didn't mean for this,' Sheppard was saying. 'I meant to say I'm interested. That's all. This was supposed to be later. I was going to kiss you to show I was interested, and then we would open negotiations.'

'Your position is very clear,' McKay assured him.

'Good. Okay. Good.' Sheppard stroked his chest. Now he touched softly and gently, when before he'd been power and push. McKay liked the contrast. 'With Chaya. She was nice. She was--um--really nice. I really had no idea you were interested. I hope you don't--I mean--'

McKay let Sheppard sputter to a stop. 'The whole Captain Kirk thing has got to go,' he advised. 'Beautiful alien babes? Please. That is so 1960s. Join the modern world. Besides, what I got out of all this is that you're very, very interested.'

'After what we just did? That's safe to say.'

'Actions. They speak very loudly.' To demonstrate, McKay kissed Sheppard on the lips, slow and sweet, with lots of tongue, until he made Sheppard moan. When he pulled back, the look Sheppard gave him was almost enough to get him hard again.

'I like words, too, though. You should do that again.'

McKay obliged with another kiss. 'Are there any words you need me to say right now?'

Sheppard hitched closer. 'Actually, no,' he said. 'You're saying plenty. Now shut up and listen.'

-30-