Fic: Shapes of Things by Hyperfocused, Rising1, Sanctuary

[hyperfocused.livejournal.com]

Title: Shapes of Things
Author: HYPERFocused
Episodes: Rising Part 1, Sanctuary
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay
Rating: NC17
Categories:Slash, character study, angst, romance
A/N: Written for stagesoflove elements challenge, oxoneinsis' Porn Battle (the NC17 bits), and for scribblinlenore's birthday Summer of Love challenge. 2500 words (500 per section)
Summary: "If you have to have a secret, isn't this the coolest one imaginable?"



1. Earth in the Balance

Rodney’s noticed the Major from the first day he arrived at the Stargate outpost in Antarctica. How could he not, what with the swagger, and the hair, and the brash good looks. The man lit up the room.

And when he took an inadvertent seat -- looking for all the world like a guy trying out the massage chairs at The Sharper Image -- he brought it to life for real.

That last night, when Major Sheppard pushed him, full body against the wall, excitement evident hot against Rodney’s thigh, he brought Rodney to life as well. "You were looking at me," he said. "Not like a freak, like the others. I could tell you wanted me."

"And you're just discovering this now? I thought you were smarter than that," Rodney said like he'd expected it all along. He opened John’s trousers. John’s cock springing to his hand like it belonged there.

"I haven't decided to go yet," John said, after, turning a coin over and over in his hand. And if that’s how he made decisions, he really was crazy.

"What do you mean you haven't decided yet?" Rodney asked, aghast.

"There’s still time."

There were thirteen hours and twenty-four minutes exactly. What Rodney didn't get was how there was any question at all. Why hadn't Major Sheppard signed up within minutes of hearing "Wormhole, interstellar travel"? .

No one but General O’Neill had as strong a gene as John. It was a gift he would be a fool not to use, akin to Rodney taking a job at the aforementioned Sharper Image store. Sure, someone had to do it, but he was meant for bigger and better things. How could flying his stupid planes be as fulfilling as possibly piloting a spaceship?

"Oh, please. You can’t tell me you're fulfilled doing the McMurdo milk run. Do you have any idea what you'd be giving up?"

"Earth."

"It’ll still be there."

"But we might never get back to it."

"Don’t you think it'd be worth it? To do something so amazing?"

"So amazing that we couldn't tell anyone. And isn't part of the amazement in the sharing?"

"Well, true." Rodney had never liked the need to keep such important truths from the public. And no, it wasn't all because it meant not getting the accolades he'd earned until probably twenty years after his death. "But if you have to have a secret, isn't this the coolest one imaginable?" He kissed John again. "Besides, you wouldn’t be bearing it alone."

John pressed against Rodney, warm and solid, "You're the only constant part of the equation."

"Seducing me with math, Major? You know me too well."

"I’d like to get to know you better," John said, getting up to slip away un-noticed. He might be crazy, but he wasn't stupid.

Rodney’s sure John would make at least one wise decision. But he wondered if this thing between them would continue, or was it just a one-time, "last night on Earth" situation?


2. The Water is Wide

The jump through the Stargate looks like you're walking through a vertical pool of water, but it feels like stepping into the cold unknown.

They've tried to prepare them for this -- especially those who have never made the leap off-world -- but really, like orgasms, it's really only explicable once you've experienced it. Descriptions don't quite do it justice.

Even at the last second, as he's about to cross over, John has second thoughts. It's the look on Rodney's face that pushes him through. He's only known Rodney a relatively short while, but already the thought of never again having that enthusiastic presence in his life is unbearable.

"Unbearable" is a word some would use to describe Rodney himself, but John has never found this to be true. Difficult, yes, but well worth it. Like an artichoke, it takes effort to get past the abrasive parts, and find the soft, hidden heart of the man.

John doesn't know what he's expected, but it definitely wasn't this. Atlantis is cool blues, and calm greens that soothe nerves frazzled from such a long journey Clearly an Ancient equivalent of Frank LLoyd Wright had a major hand in the design. Somehow, that makes it both disturbingly alien, and reassuringly familiar.

It seems like no time at all that everyone has scattered into a controlled chaos, exploring their surroundings, and powering up the city. It kind of feels like the first day of camp, or the seasonal unveiling of a home by the sea. John almost expects to find "Bunk Five was here" scratched into a wall someplace hidden.

The thought makes him grin. Sure, Colonel Sumner already has it in for him; so much for making a fresh start in this place, light years from Afghanistan, and all of its ghosts. Yes, there are bound to be things he'll miss from Earth. They could bring so few non-necessities, and he's sure they've forgotten something vitally important. But none of that matters, when he has Rodney's excitement to buoy him up, and a new community of smart, brave, and really cool people in which to grow.

John can feel when it changes, even before Rodney's near panicked words tell them to stop what they're doing. Their grand adventure has turned to shit in the space of a moment. The thought of all that water pressing in on them leadens his limbs, but he doesn't let it show. He can panic on the inside.

It isn't until afterwards, when they're all safely looking at the ocean below, that it dawns on him: Rodney may have acted like he was this close to losing it, but his actions never faltered. John always knew Rodney was smart, but until now it had been an abstract thing, not something of practical value, like being a crack shot, or being able to safely fly through enemy fire. John discovers what it truly means to be evenly matched.

When they steal a moment's privacy, the pressure of weight and water surrounding John comes from Rodney's brilliant mouth.

3. Con Air

Rodney can fly the Puddle Jumper better than he lets on, though nowhere near as well as Major Sheppard, which is, of course, the point of all his subterfuge.

Rodney likes his lessons, likes to watch John in his competence, watch John's graceful fingers touch the screens, admire the way he knows what to do immediately, like he was born to it. Perhaps he was. There are so few people who can teach Rodney anything -- one of the perils of being a genius -- but John does.

For once, there's no urgent business, so John's commandeered Jumper 2, Rodney's scrounged some MRE's, and they've got the afternoon to themselves. They need this break.

They're making use of this interlude to reconnect with the best part of the Atlantis experience. Rodney won't admit it to anyone else, but beyond the thrill of exploration, the satisfaction of scientific discovery, lies John.

They're soaring over the wide expanse of water when John says, "I'm onto you, you know," Rodney handles the gateship smoothly.

"Oh?"

"The flying thing. You're quite good. You'd just rather I do it. How come?"

"It gives me more time to think. Besides, it's what you do best." Rodney turns towards him. "And I like to watch you, when you're happy."

"I can do other things you could watch. Happy things, I mean."

"You'd do them here? We've never..."

"The jumper's fine on her own." John eases back in his seat, and runs a hand down his thigh. He is teasing Rodney without even touching him.

"So, a different kind of lesson, then?" Rodney asked.

"Observation first, then you can try it." John unfastens his trousers, and pulls out his cock. He's gone commando, which makes things easier, and has to mean they've both planned for this to happen. Rodney can see that John is already hard. He wonders if that was from anticipation of what they might do together, or from the thrill of flight itself. He wouldn't put it past the Major to be affected by either one.

"Now, first, you've got to use a firm, but comfortable grip." John demonstrates, hand moving evenly up and down. "Not too fast, at first. It's best to ease into it. If you let yourself go too fast, you'll lose control, and the trip will be over."

"Slow and steady wins the race?"

"Not slow, exactly, but yes, steady, You have to feel every motion, Remind yourself that the journey is just as important as getting there."

"That makes sense. Like the work of making the discovery can be almost as satisfying as getting the award for it."

John laughs. "Leave it to you to turn it to a science analogy."

"So now that we've had the theory and observation, when will it be time for some experimentation?" Rodney is tired of watching from a distance. He wants some hands on practice himself.

"Gold star," John gasps, letting Rodney take over. He was hot and wet and needy in Rodney's grip.

"Does this mean the lessons are all over?"

"Extra credit!" John moans, and comes.

4. And Through the Fire

John doesn't like to think about all of the people they've lost on his watch, starting with Colonel Sumner, and probably continuing on forever, thanks to one stupid move with a race of pseudo-vampires no one had even heard of before.

John wants to feel physically like he does emotionally. Make the inside match the outside. That's the only way things could ever hope to balance out.

Rodney understands this. Gets that at times like this, John needs Rodney to fuck him -- hard and unrelentingly -- more than he wants Rodney. Needs him not to be gentle, not to ask "Is this all right?". Needs to feel that welcome burn turn to pleasure, the way it always will.

John understands the concept of a "Trial by Fire" better than anyone. The trouble is, he doesn't know if his experiences have tempered him into something stronger, or reduced him to ashes.

Rodney doesn't treat him like either one. Neither porcelain nor steel, but some innovative amalgam with properties of both, delicate yet unbreakable. Rodney imbues no fragility in the way he touches John, he doesn't acknowledge that John could so easily shatter, that he's only holding himself together with glue and gumption, and his destruction wouldn't be pretty.

Rodney just presses in on John, first with his wide, square fingers, and then with his sturdy cock. He moves into John with absolute surety. The confidence he shows in John is overwhelming and it has nothing to do with his role as military leader. It's just about John and Rodney, and how they fit together.

Face to face, and John's legs are bent back to his shoulders, the stretch there adding to the burn, but he's not complaining,

Rodney sets an explosive pace when he wants to, red-faced and panting, sweat pouring off of him, the intensity of his expression more than a little bit scary. Other times it's a slow, torturous ride, not to make sure John is ready, but because he is. John begs him to go faster, but Rodney laughs and says "Don't be silly. I know what you need." It's true. He always does, even when John himself isn't sure.

Sometimes he'll help John along, his firm grip on John's cock matching the speed of his thrusts, fast or slow, and yes, those are the hands that regularly save Atlantis from ruin.

This is how John finally tunes out the accusations in his head, shuts up the regrets and blame, just for a little while. Call it love, call it stress relief. John doesn't know what to call it yet.

"Stop thinking, Major," Rodney squirms them both into position for the long night ahead. The bed is too small to be comfortable, but they've learned to make it work. John sneaks in one last grateful thought and sleeps.

It isn't until John wakes up in the morning, sated and sore, breathing easier than he has in weeks, that the epiphany hits him. What Rodney offers him is not punishment, but comfort; not recriminations, but absolution.

5. Spirits in the Material World

There was a time Rodney's fondest wish -- beyond all the prizes he was destined to win, and therefore needn't wish for -- was to Ascend. To reach a plane of existence where the physical doesn't matter. Where eating the wrong snack can't kill you, where the sins of the flesh don't matter, because there is no flesh with which you can sin.

Of course he hadn't known the term "ascended", at least not as one that described a form as real as his human one. It was just a science fiction trope, Asimov, or Bova or Clarke. Hell, all the greats probably had their own version.

But now that he's seen evidence of the real thing, he realizes it's the last thing he wants.

Millions of light years from the place he once called home, as far from "safe" as possible, and Rodney has never felt more at home in his own skin. Never known how capable he could be, that people who were stronger, and faster, and more skilled in the use of their own muscles, could still count on him. He never knew before how much he would like it, despite the fear that he won't measure up.

There are other reasons, of course. For one thing, the Ascended (even the half-Ascended) seem to have covered the market on sanctimoniousness. They're perfect beings who can't be bothered to help those they've risen above. Even those just like the humans they used to be.

Rodney knows he's a genius, that he's as close to the mental ideal as is possible for one man to be. But with that intellect comes the need to put it to good use. Noble use, even. If ascension means being unable to act, he'll take life, warts and all.

But the biggest reason Rodney is content to be corporeal is lying next to him right now. Bony knees and stinky feet and crazy hair and all, John is beautiful. And John seems to think Rodney is beautiful too. Despite Rodney's own foibles and imperfections, John touches him like he wants every part of Rodney. It's why Rodney still insists he wasn't jealous of Chaya, at least not the way everyone thinks he was.

"It wasn't real sex," John told him. "Nothing like we have." Then he kissed Rodney, and moved to suck a mark onto the juncture of shoulder and neck. It was a move Rodney would normally have called needlessly teenage, but now he relishes every sign of their relationship, every minor scratch and finger shaped bruise that marks him. Every sign that shows he's strong because he's fragile. Not that he's weak, not at all. Rodney has discovered there's a difference.

There's power in knowing you could die at any minute, but choosing to go on anyway, to do what one must to survive, and take whatever joy one can find.

Rodney no longer wishes to escape his body, or deny what it can give him. He prefers his spirit connected to his flesh, and both of them connected to John.