Care in the Holding
Feb. 17th, 2006 09:12 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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rec50My Sheppard/McKay rec50 table.
Claim: Stargate Atlantis: John Sheppard/Rodney McKay
Title: Care in the Holding
Author: Lacey McBain(![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
laceymcbain)
Characters: Sheppard/McKay
Prompt: 49 - Reccer's Choice
Rating: Mature
Length: Long
Brief summary: Comfort, for me, often means romance. And by romance, I mean a story that builds slowly, showing how the relationship between the two characters focuses and tightens up over time. Lots of UST, told in simple ways -- looks, touches, moments when things just work -- all building to that wonderful first time.
This story is pretty much a textbook case for that, plus it has guns and target practice too. There's really no bad in that.
The room they end up in is dark with shadows, but it comes to life the moment John lays a hand on the wall. Atlantis knows his touch, responds with a satisfying hum. He doesn’t like to admit how good it makes him feel to sense the city’s gentle vibration under his hand, the way she responds to him like she knows him. He doesn’t understand why he had to come all the way to another galaxy to finally feel like he belongs.
The armory is empty except for him and Rodney and an arsenal of weapons ranging from grenades to rocket launchers. Rodney’s licking crumbs off his fingers and looking at him strangely, but he’s been extraordinarily quiet, holding all his questions on his tongue, and John isn’t sure if that’s because of the time of day or McKay’s exhaustion or just a small sign of the trust that’s grown between them. Rodney looks out of place here, but not entirely, and John thinks they’re all getting used to things they never would’ve done on earth. Chances they wouldn’t have taken.
“You brought me here to show me your gun?”
Rodney’s glancing around, looking at the walls that have been hung with weapons, and John grins around the double-entendre and wonders why Rodney doesn’t drive him as crazy as he drives everyone else. They shouldn’t be friends, and in any other galaxy they probably wouldn’t be. But this is Atlantis, and John’s come to believe in impossible things.
“Sort of,” John explains, and unholsters his sidearm. “9 mm, clip holds 15 rounds. Maximum effective range is 50 m, but it’s better close-up. You want to remember to take the safety off,” he demonstrates with a flick of his finger, “and aim for the chest area.”
He turns toward the paper target hanging at the end of the room, and fires a single shot. Rodney flinches, but doesn’t move away. John can tell Rodney’s checking to see where the bullet has hit. Centre of the target.
“Not that I don’t appreciate the demonstration of your prowess, Major, and I know I’ll feel all the more reassured when we come upon a planet of paper dolls who want to kill us, but is there a reason I’m here?”
“Yes.”
John hands his gun to Rodney and there’s a flicker of worry in Rodney’s eyes, but there’s also understanding and determination, and he wraps his palm around the gun like he’s done it before. Rodney’s been around the military enough to have handled weapons, but John’s pretty sure he’s never had to use one. Rodney’s record would’ve said so, and John made a point of checking.
He slips around to Rodney’s other side and adjusts his grip. Rodney’s fingers are thick and a little bit sweaty, and John touches Rodney’s left elbow, nudges him into bringing his other hand up to steady his aim. Rodney’s breathing is nervous, but he allows John to move him, shift his body with small touches.
“Sight down the barrel of the gun. Balance the butt on your other palm if you need to. Squeeze the trigger lightly. You won’t have to apply much pressure to get it to fire.”
Rodney’s finger moves in response, and the air rings with the gunshot and the ripping of paper. Rodney takes an involuntary step back, collides with John’s solid chest, and John lets him stand there, close enough to feel the warmth, waiting for Rodney’s heart rate to slow. John peers over Rodney’s shoulder and eyes the cardboard cut-out. Outside the target range, but not bad.
“At least I hit the paper.” Rodney manages to sound proud and defensive all at once.
Link to the story: Care in the Holding
Claim: Stargate Atlantis: John Sheppard/Rodney McKay
Title: Care in the Holding
Author: Lacey McBain(
laceymcbain)Characters: Sheppard/McKay
Prompt: 49 - Reccer's Choice
Rating: Mature
Length: Long
Brief summary: Comfort, for me, often means romance. And by romance, I mean a story that builds slowly, showing how the relationship between the two characters focuses and tightens up over time. Lots of UST, told in simple ways -- looks, touches, moments when things just work -- all building to that wonderful first time.
This story is pretty much a textbook case for that, plus it has guns and target practice too. There's really no bad in that.
The room they end up in is dark with shadows, but it comes to life the moment John lays a hand on the wall. Atlantis knows his touch, responds with a satisfying hum. He doesn’t like to admit how good it makes him feel to sense the city’s gentle vibration under his hand, the way she responds to him like she knows him. He doesn’t understand why he had to come all the way to another galaxy to finally feel like he belongs.
The armory is empty except for him and Rodney and an arsenal of weapons ranging from grenades to rocket launchers. Rodney’s licking crumbs off his fingers and looking at him strangely, but he’s been extraordinarily quiet, holding all his questions on his tongue, and John isn’t sure if that’s because of the time of day or McKay’s exhaustion or just a small sign of the trust that’s grown between them. Rodney looks out of place here, but not entirely, and John thinks they’re all getting used to things they never would’ve done on earth. Chances they wouldn’t have taken.
“You brought me here to show me your gun?”
Rodney’s glancing around, looking at the walls that have been hung with weapons, and John grins around the double-entendre and wonders why Rodney doesn’t drive him as crazy as he drives everyone else. They shouldn’t be friends, and in any other galaxy they probably wouldn’t be. But this is Atlantis, and John’s come to believe in impossible things.
“Sort of,” John explains, and unholsters his sidearm. “9 mm, clip holds 15 rounds. Maximum effective range is 50 m, but it’s better close-up. You want to remember to take the safety off,” he demonstrates with a flick of his finger, “and aim for the chest area.”
He turns toward the paper target hanging at the end of the room, and fires a single shot. Rodney flinches, but doesn’t move away. John can tell Rodney’s checking to see where the bullet has hit. Centre of the target.
“Not that I don’t appreciate the demonstration of your prowess, Major, and I know I’ll feel all the more reassured when we come upon a planet of paper dolls who want to kill us, but is there a reason I’m here?”
“Yes.”
John hands his gun to Rodney and there’s a flicker of worry in Rodney’s eyes, but there’s also understanding and determination, and he wraps his palm around the gun like he’s done it before. Rodney’s been around the military enough to have handled weapons, but John’s pretty sure he’s never had to use one. Rodney’s record would’ve said so, and John made a point of checking.
He slips around to Rodney’s other side and adjusts his grip. Rodney’s fingers are thick and a little bit sweaty, and John touches Rodney’s left elbow, nudges him into bringing his other hand up to steady his aim. Rodney’s breathing is nervous, but he allows John to move him, shift his body with small touches.
“Sight down the barrel of the gun. Balance the butt on your other palm if you need to. Squeeze the trigger lightly. You won’t have to apply much pressure to get it to fire.”
Rodney’s finger moves in response, and the air rings with the gunshot and the ripping of paper. Rodney takes an involuntary step back, collides with John’s solid chest, and John lets him stand there, close enough to feel the warmth, waiting for Rodney’s heart rate to slow. John peers over Rodney’s shoulder and eyes the cardboard cut-out. Outside the target range, but not bad.
“At least I hit the paper.” Rodney manages to sound proud and defensive all at once.
Link to the story: Care in the Holding
