Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Summary: Rodney is determined to get his toaster back from Sheppard. Sheppard is... not using the toaster in any way Rodney had expected. (Yes, this is *that* Toaster Porn fic I keep talking about. Though the porn won't actually come until part two)
Warning/s: NSFW. Other than that, no.
A/N: with thanks to esteefee for all the encouragement, prompts and generally enabling :)
Rodney stormed down the hallway, ignoring the flickering of Atlantis’ lights that let him know the city was somewhat concerned about him.
He’d spent all day wrangling with idiotic people who dared to call themselves scientists, only to miss dinner (re-heated almost-meatloaf didn’t really count), and find Sheppard I’ll-be-right-back-Rodney, had deserted him.
And taken the Toaster with him.
Rodney had been hoping for some nice, warm toast to help sooth his disappointment over dinner. It didn’t matter that the toaster was technically Sheppard’s – the Colonel had found it, abandoned, somewhere in Atlantis. He’d then brought it to Rodney to investigate.
Rodney, of course, had been able to determine that the appliance was, in fact, a toaster (not a ray gun like he was pretty sure Sheppard had been secretly hoping if the eager look on his face was anything to go by). He was also able to determine that, for a people so set on giving up their lives, the Ancients had had rather sophisticated toaster technology.
A few hours and a complete disassembling and reassembling of said toaster later, Rodney had a fixed appliance that was humming happily and ready to work. Or he had had said appliance.
In his brief trip to the Mess for some rather unsatisfying food, his toaster had gone missing.
Hence his determined stride down the corridor.
If the Colonel was going to steal his toaster – then Rodney would just have to steal it back.
Reaching Sheppard’s door, Rodney gave it a rather venomous look. The door slid open. For all that everyone knew Sheppard was Altantis’ favourite, Rodney had found she’d never stopped him from going where he wanted to go, either.
Stepping into the Colonel’s room, he came to an immediate halt.
Rodney felt his jaw drop open. His eyes widened. And a noise that was somewhere between a splutter and a squeal left his mouth.
Sheppard was sprawled out over his bed in that elegantly lazy way of his that made Rodney want to hit something. Long legs were spread open carelessly, the fly of Sheppard’s trousers open and his cock poking proudly through the gap – long and thick and darkly flushed and oozing precum from the slit.
And in his hands, Sheppard was holding the toaster.
Rodney moved his mouth – opening and closing it a few times. It felt like his brain had stuttered to a halt – which was impossible, considering the fact that his brain simply didn’t do that. He was far too intelligent and his brain moved far too rapidly to ever be without thought.
Sheppard’s eyes, which had been closed, slid open. A faint blush stained his cheeks. His fingers flexed against the toaster, where he had it cradled just in front of his chest.
Bad enough, Rodney thought, that Sheppard had stolen his toaster. Now he was, was ... Rodney wasn't entirely sure there was a word for what he was doing. Or just what it was he should think about it.
A warm flush spread over Rodney, starting in his chest and spreading out to every inch of him. He could feel his skin heating, and knew it would be red. Anger? Embarrassment? Arousal? No, definitely not the last!
Just because it looked like Sheppard was getting his rocks off on Rodney's toaster!
Rodney shook his head.
Sheppard scowled, though the blush in his cheeks didn't fade.
"Don't you ever knock?" He demanded.
"Knock? Since when do you care about knocking? Besides, I'm not the one who stole someone else's toaster!"
"I didn't steal anything." Sheppard's scowl moved from a slightly awkward, embarrassed thing, to an actual scowl. "It's my toaster."
"Oh really?" Rodney demanded, crossing his arms over his chest (if he'd been watching more closely he'd have seen Sheppard's eyes following his motions - but he was somewhat distracted by the toaster. And Sheppard's cock). "Who's the one who lovingly cared for it? Pulled it apart to see what was wrong and then put it back together again? Who fixed it?"
“And who found it?” Sheppard retorted. “Rescued it from obscurity?”
They glared at each other for a moment. Rodney found his eyes dipping towards that cock – it was hardly his fault it was on display!
Sheppard lowered his hands, toaster moving to block the view. Rodney rolled his eyes.
“It’s not like I’ve never seen it before,” he declared. “Just not so...” his voice trailed off and he gave himself a shake.
“Well, maybe if you knocked.”
Rodney shot him a scowl. “Please, I’m not the one who’s, who’s… communing… with a toaster!” He could feel his cheeks flushing as soon as he’d said it, but there was no way to take it back. Besides, he wasn’t the one carrying on some kind of illicit affair with a piece of machinery! Machinery!
Rodney was a flesh and blood, fully functioning and genius human being – and Sheppard had to, to, that! With a toaster! What was wrong with Rodney?!
Sheppard bit his lip – something Rodney was fairly sure should be illegal. “It’s not...” he said. But his voice trailed off and Rodney found himself raising his eyebrows incredulously.
“Not what?” he demanded. “Not you getting off on my toaster?”
Suddenly furious, Rodney spun on his heel, striding back towards the door. His vision was edging in red and he could feel a traitorous tickling behind his eyes that suggested there were tears gathering.
“McKay,” Sheppard said.
Rodney waved his hand impatiently at the sensor by the door – usually Atlantis had already opened it for him.
The door stuttered where it was sliding open – coming to a halt and then smoothly shutting once more. Rodney glared at it. Figured. Just when he really, really needed to get out of a situation, Atlantis would finally decide Sheppard was actually her favourite and stop working for him. See if he spent any more time this month working to increase her efficiencies.
There was a shuffling sound, then a thud. Boots hitting the floor. Rodney drew a deep breath, forcing his face to remain in a scowl as he turned to face the Colonel.
Sheppard’s face was rather red, though the shifting of his eyes suggested it was more from embarrassment than from anger. He held the toaster out towards Rodney.
“Here,” he said, voice gruff.
Rolling his eyes, Rodney crossed his arms defensively over his chest. “What? Now you want to give it back to me?” he demanded. “You already get off?” His eyes dipped to Sheppard’s crotch – where his cock was no longer visible. Rodney ignored the whisper of disappointment in the back of his mind.
The toaster was thrust into his chest. Arms automatically coming up to cradle it, Rodney took a hasty step back, ending up against the closed door.
“Yes, all right, fine,” Sheppard snapped. “I really am just that desperate.”
Rodney laughed – it sounded choked. “Because you have reason to be desperate,” he replied. “What with everyone throwing themselves at you.”
Sheppard’s eyes narrowed. “Just because people throw themselves at me doesn’t mean I want them.”
“Well, obviously.” If that was the case, Rodney would have been getting laid for years.
“Just… I’m sorry, okay.” Sheppard shifted uncomfortably. “It was an invasion of privacy. It won’t happen again.”
“An invasion of privacy? So you admit it’s my toaster?”
Sheppard gave him a look that seemed to be questioning Rodney’s mental faculties. Considering just how great Rodney’s mental faculties were, he thought that was highly unfair.
“Because you fixed it,” Sheppard drawled.
Rodney sniffed in triumph. “Yes, it’s my toaster, because I fixed it,” he agreed.
Sheppard stared at him for a moment longer, then the corners of his lips began to twitch. Rodney’s scowl deepened.
“You don’t know,” Sheppard breathed. Then he froze, as though suddenly realising what he’d just said. He cleared his throat. “Right. Well. See you later, McKay.” He turned back towards his bed. The door behind Rodney shuddered, grinding open as though reluctant to do so.
Stepping away from it, Rodney waved it shut, eyes narrowing. There was something else going on here. Something more… though goodness knows trying to get Sheppard to talk was like trying to kill Wraith – both difficult and painful.
“Know what?” Rodney demanded.
Sheppard stiffened, and Rodney could see the other man’s defences going back up.
“Know what?” he repeated.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Obviously it does, or you wouldn’t have been, been… getting off on my toaster.”
Sheppard spun to face him, suddenly furious, though still with bright spots of embarrassment on his cheeks. “Yeah, thanks for the reminder,” he snapped. “Your toaster – like I could ever forget!”
Rodney had a feeling he was missing something vitally important from the conversation here. “What does it matter whose toaster it is?” he asked, dumping it carelessly on the desk. “I’m more worried about what you were -”
“Well I wouldn’t have been if it was anyone else’s, would I?”
Breathing heavily, Rodney narrowed his eyes, turning over Sheppard’s words in his mind. “You were… because it was mine?”
Sighing, Sheppard ran a hand through his hair. All the fight seemed to suddenly leave him and he slumped down onto the bed. “Do you have any idea what it feels like to be the focus of your entire attention?” he asked. “To have those deft hands unmaking you? To be touched by you?”
Rodney found his mouth flapping open in a rather undignified and seemingly unintelligent way. “What? No. Of course not. I’d have to actually touch myself -” he stopped when he realised just what he’d said.
Sheppard’s smirk did nothing to calm him.
“And – hang on! What does that have to do with my toaster?” Rodney’s mind darted through various possibilities. The toaster was Ancient. And yes, Rodney had done those things – pulled it apart and put it back together again, focused his attention on it… but how could Sheppard… mental. There was a mental component to all Ancient Technology. And the toaster was Ancient. His mouth dropped open.
“Are you saying you can feel that from the toaster?” Rodney demanded. His mind jumped instantly from toasters and cocks and arguments to just what this meant in regards to the technology itself.
“You don’t?” Sheppard asked. Rodney waved that away. Of course he didn’t – or he’d have explored these possibilities earlier. “I always get a kind of… impression, from Ancient Tech,” Sheppard continued. “Like a memory of the last person who used it and what it was like.”
Rodney waved his hands expressively, mouth opening and closing as he tried to get out all the words that were spinning around in his mind. “Always?” he finally managed to exclaim.
“This is… this is… we need to do tests!”
“Do you have any idea how important this information is? It completely changes the way we look at how your gene interacts with the Ancient Technology! What else can you do that I don’t know about?!”
“I tell you that I get impressions of you from the toaster – and you want to talk about my gene?”
“Of course,” Rodney replied. “What else would I...” he paused, mind running over just what Sheppard had said. He frowned. “Wait – you got impressions of me?”
Sheppard sighed. “Yes, Rodney,” he said.
“What – But – Why -” Rodney could feel his blood rushing in directions other than his brain. “You got impressions of me. Me. Rodney McKay. And you were using those impressions to – what? Get off?”
Sheppard glanced down, looking somewhat bashful, even as Rodney realised the Colonel’s fly was still undone. “Yes, Rodney,” Sheppard – John – should he call him John when they were talking about something like this? - said.
Folding his own arms across his chest, John gave Rodney a rather defiant look, chin tilted upwards. “It won’t happen again,” he said.
“Won’t happen again?” Rodney waved his arms around violently, “I’m still trying to figure out why it happened in the first place.”
“You’re the genius, McKay, you figure it out.”
Rodney sniffed. “Just because I’m a genius doesn’t mean I understand your obsession with Ancient Tech!”
“It wasn’t the Tech,” John admitted.
Rodney’s arms fell down limply by his sides. His jaw wanted to drop. He clenched it instead. “Well if it wasn’t the technology -”
“It was you! Okay, Rodney. It was you!” Sheppard had that look he got when facing down impossible enemies. Rodney’s jaw finally detached.
“Yes. You. You think I go around wanking to impressions from just anyone?”
“Me?” Rodney’s mind was spinning. This didn’t fit any of his carefully constructed understandings of Colonel John Sheppard. Hot – Yes. Competent – Absolutely. Straight – most definitely. Only… apparently not?
Groaning, Sheppard slumped back against his bed, one arm coming up to hide his eyes. “Yes, Rodney,” he mumbled through his forearm.
“You were wanking to impressions of me? Of me… working on the toaster?”
Sheppard let out a huff, dropping his arm from his eyes and pushing up slightly from the bed. “Yes, Rodney,” he repeated. “I was wanking off to the feel of you – of all your concentration focused on me. Your hands – touching me. Your blue eyes watching me. I was wanking off to the feel of you taking me apart – so that you could put me back together again.”
Rodney swallowed. His throat had gone rather dry. Not surprising, considering the crush on the Colonel he’d been nursing since, oh, about the day they met.
“Me?” he repeated faintly.
“It doesn’t have to mean anything.” And – oh! That was the patented John Sheppard Emotionally Unavailable look.
“What do you mean it doesn’t have to mean anything? Of course it means something!” Rodney pressed forward, until he was standing by the side of the bed.
“Look, Rodney – it’s okay. We can just forget all about it, and I won’t do it again, okay?”
“Of course you’re not going to do it again!” Rodney declared. “Why on earth would you get impressions from Ancient Tech I’ve touched when you could have me instead?!”
There was a moment’s pause, and then Sheppard smiled. It wasn’t his normal smirk or fake smile, but an actual smile – of the kind Rodney occasionally saw directed at himself and always tried to encourage.
“Rodney,” Sheppard said, “are you saying – you’d like to… with me?”
“I’m pretty sure everyone wants to… with you,” Rodney snapped back. “But yes. All right. Yes!”
And then Sheppard was standing up. In his space. There was a moment’s hesitation, doubt creeping into those green eyes Rodney loved so much. So he grabbed Sheppard by his shirt, crashing them together in something that might have resembled a kiss had it been just a little less violent.
“Ow!” he complained, stepping back and rubbing his lip where he’d caught it against Sheppard’s – John’s – teeth.
Suddenly more confident, John’s hands curved around Rodney’s shoulders, drawing him back in. This time, they managed to kiss. And it was just as wonderful and frightening and utterly arousing as Rodney had always thought it would be. He didn’t want to stop.
Stepping backwards, Rodney waved his hands wildly between them. “Wait, wait, wait!” he said. “What is this?”
“I know it’s kissing – I mean – what does it mean?” He desperately, utterly, hoped it meant that, yes, this was actually happening, no, Rodney wasn’t dreaming, and yes, there was going to be a steady stream of regular sex in his future.
John’s fingers flexed against his thighs. “You’re my best friend,” he said. “It’s whatever you want it to be.”
Rodney snorted. “Well of course I want it to be permanent,” he said. “Weren’t you listening when I said everybody wanted you? That does include me, you know.” He sniffed imperiously. “But you… are you sure this is what you want?”
“I was wanking to fain impressions of you left on an Ancient Toaster.”
Rodney gave a swift nod. Right. It was permanent. And John wanted him. Wanted to be the focus of all his attention. “You know,” he said, “I’m so much better than just an impression.”.