sga_santa | Fic: In the Small Hours (McKay/Sheppard, PG13)

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sga_santa

Title: In the Small Hours
Author:

rustler
Recipient:

dossier
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: Many thanks to

trillingstar and

ozsaur for their help, friendship, and encouragement.
Summary: Rodney had never been so glad he'd blown off work in his life.

Rodney checked his watch against the progress bar on the simulation and pushed back in his chair, listening to the comforting background hum of computers working. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. It was taking a little longer than anticipated, but hey, at least the reconfiguration of the shield generator was finally getting done. If it took pulling an all-nighter to find the peace to work with no distractions or interruptions? So be it. He could sleep tomorrow and let Zelenka confirm the results.

All he needed now was a fresh cup of coffee.

The mess hall was mostly deserted at this hour. There were a couple of sleepy-eyed Marines near the door, and a clutch of anthropologists examining a weirdly carved gourd at a central table. Rodney made his way over to the coffee station to refill his travel mug. This was definitely the best time to be here. No lines, no waiting. He fussed over his coffee, adding cream a scant splash at a time until the color was just right -- an all-nighter cup required perfect balance. He was poised to take the crucial first test slurp when he was startled by the sound of laughter coming from the direction of the door.

Rodney lowered his mug and looked up. He prepared a scowl for whoever had been responsible for his near-spill, when he saw a familiar spiky haired silhouette slouched in the doorway. Sheppard's hands were stuffed in his pockets, and he was saying something to the Marines that somehow managed to make them look simultaneously more at attention and more relaxed.

Rodney shook his head and hrm'd quietly, checking his coffee again. Satisfied with the blend, he fitted the lid back on the travel mug carefully. By the time he was done, Sheppard was heading across the mess toward him.

"Hey," Sheppard said, leaning against the coffee station counter, watching while Rodney swept empty sugar packets into the recessed trash bin. When Rodney looked up, he saw that Sheppard's jaw was shadowed with stubble, and there were dark smudges under his eyes. He flashed Rodney an affable smile, but Sheppard looked exhausted. He was in a black t-shirt and track pants, so he wasn't on active duty, either. Just rattling around the corridors of Atlantis in the small hours of the morning again.

Rodney aimed his return greeting smile back down at the counter, trying not to look like he'd noticed anything. They all had their share of reasons for sleepless nights, but Sheppard more than most.

"Working late?" Sheppard asked, nodding toward the coffee mug in Rodney's hand.

Rodney thought about the simulation that was chugging away, nearing completion. And the data, all set up and awaiting his attention the moment he got back to his lab.

"Oh," Rodney started, ready to launch into an explanation of his grand scheme for the night, but another glance at Sheppard made him pause. If it had been anyone else, Rodney probably wouldn't even have noticed the oddly hopeful eyebrow lift, the implicit wanna hang out? in the question. But by the time Rodney put it together, Sheppard seemed to be taking his hesitation as an answer, straightening and stepping back, showing a small flash of disappointment before a neutral smile returned.

"I mean, no," Rodney backpedaled quickly, making a show of checking his watch. "I'm just... killing time. Waiting for some simulations to finish running."

"Yeah?" Sheppard's smile brightened instantly, then grew speculatively sly. "Long enough to sneak in a quick race?"

Rodney hesitated again, but he was pretty sure it was just out of longstanding habit at this point.

"If you're in the mood to be humiliated, I don't see why not," he replied, waving the travel mug with a flourish.

"Cool." Sheppard drummed his fingers quickly on the coffee station counter. "I'll go grab my car and meet you down there."

"Yes. Great," Rodney said, mostly to himself, watching Sheppard head back across the mess at a trot that belied his obviously sleep-deprived state.

What the hell. A little break wouldn't hurt. Rodney could always set a few other simulations to run, then compare the data in a batch when they were finished with the race. That wouldn't take too long. He'd hardly lose any time at all.

Rodney took a long slug of coffee, stifled another yawn, and went back to his lab to set things up.

***

Fifteen minutes later they were on the deserted East Pier, maneuvering their cars through the most wickedly convoluted course they'd devised yet. It was like a real Grand Prix in miniature -- if you used a little imagination. Sure, Sheppard was sneaky, and a way better driver on the technical turns, but the newest modifications Rodney'd made to his car's motor smoked on the straightaways.

"Move it or lose it," Sheppard said with a dirty chuckle, squeaking his car in on the inside of a tight figure-eight.

"Damn!" Rodney yelled, trying to make up ground as they ran after their cars to keep in range, bumping shoulders and tripping over each other's feet. Then the last tricky turn was over and the backstretch was a long straight run. Rodney floored it -- smashing his thumb down against the forward controller as hard as he could without snapping it off.

"Look out, Loretta!" Rodney let out a whoop as his car nosed ahead, and something weird and happy bubbled out with his laughter. "Yesss!" he cried, shooting his arms into the air as his car crossed the finish line less than a tire length in the lead. He turned on Sheppard with full trash-talking victorious intent, but the warmth of Sheppard's smile made him stutter to a stop.

"That was a hell of a run," Sheppard said with what sounded like genuine appreciation. He scooped up Rodney's car and flipped it over to examine the motor. "What the hell did you do to this thing?"

"That's a trade secret," Rodney said, feeling his chest swell with a pride that only felt slightly ridiculous. He took the car from Sheppard and tucked it carefully under his arm. The number of hours he'd spent tuning it just so would be revealed under pain of death.

"Aw, come on Rodney. Fix my car like that and I'll teach you how to drive the corners," Sheppard coaxed, turning puppy-dog eyes on him. Shameless.

"I'll think about it," Rodney huffed, and Sheppard grinned, because they both knew it meant he would.

Sheppard picked up his car, and then they just stood there a moment in silence. Finally, Sheppard shifted his weight and leaned back against the wall. He looked tired again, now that he wasn't smiling.

"Guess you'd better get back to check on your simulation, huh?" he said, folding his arms across his chest.

Rodney was too zoned out noticing the prominent curve of Sheppard's biceps when he stood like that for the words to penetrate immediately. Then it hit, and he snapped out of it. The simulation! He'd totally forgotten.

"Right. Yes. I should..." Rodney gestured vaguely, not even sure which direction he was actually pointing in.

"Don't start going all absent-minded professor on me now," Sheppard laughed.

It wasn't until they had gotten out of the transporter together and started down the hall that Rodney realized Sheppard was coming with him back to the lab. That was... Rodney wasn't sure what it was. Sheppard was his friend -- amazingly, weirdly, one of the best he'd ever had. Why did this suddenly feel so strange? He was just tired, that was all. They both were. And something was bothering Sheppard enough tonight that he didn't want to go back to his quarters, even now.

Well, the shield generator restructuring had waited this long. If Rodney could help Sheppard get through a bad night, it was the least he could do.

Rodney took a quick glance at the monitor showing the results of the first simulation. He was definitely on to something! All he had to do was tweak a couple of transfer variables and... The keyboard was right there. But... he glanced at Sheppard, who was sitting up on Zelenka's lab bench, casting a suspicious eye over the data sets Rodney had left out earlier.

Their eyes met for a moment of silence, then Sheppard cleared his throat and jumped down, already backing toward the door. "Look, I should go. Let you finish... whatever this is."

Rodney never knew exactly how much of his work Sheppard understood, but it was a fair bet he knew way more than he let on. He obviously realized how important the simulation was. It was funny -- people frequently accused Rodney of downplaying what he thought he could accomplish so he could appear to be pulling off miracles, when really, John Sheppard had to be the biggest sandbagger in two galaxies.

"Wait, hang on." Rodney recovered quickly. "I just want to set these to run with a couple of changes. Then... beer?"

He wasn't sure why it mattered so much that the night not end here, but it did. John had always been there for him.

John paused, clearly wavering. He seemed oddly off-balance, and Rodney was pretty sure it wasn't just fatigue. After a moment though, he nodded, like everything was normal, and even managed a small smile.

"Sure. Yeah. Beer sounds good."

***

They stopped at John's quarters to grab some Bud out of the fridge. Rodney wasn't sure how long ago he'd realized John's hazardous duty pay seemed to come in six-packs.

When they got back to the pier and headed outside, the stars were glittering in full force. The air was warm and still in the middle of New Lantea's pleasantly seasonable spring. John cracked open two cans and passed one to Rodney. They clunked a dull, metallic 'cheers' and drank in companionable silence, yawning occasionally, until Rodney felt the pressure to say something grow unbearable.

"Do you want to tell me what's keeping you up tonight?" he tried, then wished he'd kept his mouth shut when there was no answer.

"Insomnia," John said finally, looking down at the top of his beer can. Rodney guessed that would be the end of it, but after another long moment, John cleared his throat and spoke again.

"It's stupid. I got a packet of legal papers from my brother about my father's estate. Thick as a phone book. I already told him I don't care. Just... brought back a lot of crap I thought I was done with."

Wow. Rodney couldn't remember John volunteering anything concerning his family before. He didn't know what to say in response.

"Ronon asked me if you were secretly some kind of prince back on Earth."

John huffed a surprised laugh, shook his head, and took another long drink.

"Seriously," Rodney nodded, beginning to feel looser and warmer from the beer. "It is kind of hard to imagine you as a rich, prep school jerk."

"For you and me both," John muttered, shaking his beer can upside down and looking at it quizzically, as though he was surprised that only a couple of drops rained out.

"I hated school when I was younger," Rodney found himself continuing. "It was a necessary evil, you know, a means to an end. I guess you would consider our upbringing very middle class, but my parents had big ambitions for Jeannie and me once our abilities became clear." He drained the last of his own beer to clear the bitter taste that rose up in his throat. "Ah, anyway, I know you don't like to talk about this stuff."

"I'm not interested in having who I'm supposed to be up for discussion anymore." John said quietly. "I am who I am."

"That hasn't actually proven to be entirely bad," Rodney said.

"Thanks," John laughed. "You're just saying that because you're punchy from lack of sleep."

"Look who's talking!" Rodney scoffed, pointing. "You, my friend, are a total lightweight in the all-nighter department."

John bumped his shoulder in response. Rodney bumped back, and they sat there, shoulders touching, for another moment before Rodney added, "I hope you know you don't have to explain yourself to me."

"I know," John said. Then he leaned in and brushed a soft kiss to Rodney's lips. Rodney drew in a surprised breath, clutching at John's shoulders to hold him in place while his mind raced to catch up with new information.

"Wait, so... This is you?"

"Yeah." John rested his forehead against Rodney's and nodded. "This is me."

"Okay." Rodney closed his eyes and tried to focus. This was a lot of new information. He nodded back even though it knocked their heads together a little. "Okay, that's good."

"Is it you?" John asked, barely above a whisper, and Rodney figured there was only one good way to answer.

He tightened his grip on John's shoulders and pulled him in, fitting their mouths together. If it was true confessions time, might as well go big. John groaned happily and leaned in harder, kissing deep and hot, with a long-banked hunger. Rodney had never been so glad he'd blown off work in his life.

When they finally broke the kiss, Rodney pulled back a little to catch his breath. He noticed the first creeping glow of dawn beginning to rise on the horizon and it occurred to him that maybe the East Pier wasn't the best place to do this.

"Hey, it's getting pretty late," he said, giving John's shoulder a squeeze. He couldn't help but feel a little smug when it took John a moment to blink and look around.

"Oh, yeah." Then he got to his feet and stretched, and Rodney swallowed hard, letting his gaze rove openly over John's tousled hair, long limbs and... everything else. John caught him looking, and smiled. He reached down to Rodney, offering him a hand up. "You're right. It's time to go to bed."

--The End--