title: tactile 1/1
pairing: McShep
rating: pg-13
warnings: touching, a lot of it. humour. pre-slash.
disclaimer: still not my pleasure slave. no harm intended, no profit made.
for entertainment purposes only.
archive: tddm, my lj, area52, poisonsdarkfics, wraithbait only
beta: Lt. Cate Pike, thank you so much *huggles*
feedback: yes, hit me! harder!
summary: john's a tactile person.
as always, all my stories can be found at groups.yahoo.com/group/TDDM
A/N: don't. even. ask. I have no clue. dedicated to burningchaos who thinks all her ships go to hell, and to Lt. Cate Pike - without here, the story wouldn't be half as good as it's now. Thank you!
~o0o~
When you work with people, see them on a day-to-day basis, you notice certain habits. There are people who are always humming or always talking. Some people bite their fingernails to the quick. Others can't sit still for one single moment. Or they constantly need to do something with their hands.
John liked to get his hands on things, liked to touch them. A brush of
arms, a hand on the shoulder, leaning close to point something out, stepping
into other people's personal space, fondling pieces of technology better
left alone... You name it, and John had his hands on it.
People got used to it after a while, noticing that John didn't even realise
anymore that he was touching someone or something. It was just one of
those things John Sheppard did. Like smiling, flirting, or breathing.
So, he naturally didn't really think about it when he went to find Rodney
and - naturally - put his hands on his shoulders. Rodney had been holed
up in his lab for days, barely surfacing to wolf down some food in the
mess hall, and thus, John wasn't really surprised at the mess he encountered
in the lab. Open laptops, unidentified artefacts and mountains of paperwork.
And, of course, his coffee mugs.
He could feel Rodney jumping and tensing under his hands. After all, Rodney had never gotten quite used to John's tactileness, merely learned to tolerate it. Still, John didn't pull his hand away. "Whoa, Rodney. Those are some knots you have there."
Rodney took a sharp breath, which made John involuntarily tighten his fingers in Rodney's shirt. "Major, I'm not in the mood for your games. If you haven't noticed, we don't have much time left. So please, let me do my work."
"Relax, Rodney." John pulled up a chair and sat down behind Rodney, putting his hands back to their previous position. Carefully, he began to work on the countless knots he could feel beneath Rodney's shirt; they felt like angry little bugs that tried to escape his fingers. "McKay, you should really take better care of yourself. Those must hurt."
Rodney winced when John pulled at an especially cramped string. "Ow! If you've come here to grate on my nerves and dislocate my bones is the process--"
"Will you shut up?" John grabbed Rodney's nape gently, pressing his fingers into the places where he should have felt the indents to his vertebrae, but only encountered tense muscles. "You'll thank me later. Now, try to relax. It won't hurt as much if you work with me here." It was a strange experience. Rodney's skin was so soft, covered in fine, downy hair. It was the perfect contradiction, in John's opinion. He pressed further into the flesh, cautious to keep his touch still gentle enough to not seriously hurt Rodney.
"I really don't have time to entertain your sadistic streak, Major," Rodney sneered and moved away from John's grasp.
John sighed and pulled Rodney back again, moving his hands past Rodney's shoulder blades. Even with the knots all over the place, feeling Rodney's muscles shift felt incredible. Slowly, John moved his fingertips down Rodney's spine, trying to feel for the junctures of his muscles and frowning when he wasn't able to find a single one. "Geez, Rodney. I should be able to tell your different muscle groups apart, but as tense as you are--"
"It's not like I don't know that, Major!" Rodney snapped, trying to move away from John again. "It's not like I asked you to--"
"McKay, you're a member of my team, right?" John said patiently, leaving his hands where he should've been able to feel Rodney's Latissimus. His fingers where tingling from the simple gesture of touching Rodney, feeling the soft micro fibre of his shirt, the heat of his skin that seeped through the fabric and the hard flesh beneath its protective layers.
Rodney sighed. "Yes."
"Good. Which makes me your commanding officer. I think you know where this is going, so do shut up and let me take care of your back." Rodney sighed again, relaxing into John's hands. John grinned and started to move his hands in broad sweeps over Rodney's back, trying to loosen the superficial muscles before he would work on the deeper tendons. He started to feel dizzy with joy and was quite surprised that the simple act of massaging Rodney's back was able to rouse such emotions in him. It seemed to him that, right now, touching Rodney was the only way for John to truly convey his respect and appreciation for the scientist.
"You really don't have to do this, John," Rodney said after a few minutes, though he didn't sound as snappy as he had before John had started to work on his back. John also noticed that Rodney had started to relax. The tension had lessened considerably, and John was able to feel and loosen the knots without hurting Rodney further.
"I know that. But I'd like to."
"Why? What's it with you and touching people anyway?" Rodney moaned deeply, when John popped one vertebra back into place. "Thanks, that one was bugging me for quite some time now."
"You really should take better care of your body, McKay. As for the touching-- I like to touch people. I'm a very tactile person."
"I noticed. But why?"
John shrugged. "Wars will do that to you. Touching them reminds me that they're still alive."
"Ah. Well. I-- erm-- should probably go back to work to-- ah, keep us alive a little longer."
"What did I tell you about shutting up about that?"
"Major, it's not like I actually have time to laze about and enj-- suffering from a massage at your sadistic fingers."
John chuckled. "I know. But it's no use if you're all tense. If you're relaxed, you'll be able to concentrate on your work much better." John grinned smugly as Rodney once again leaned back, but then he frowned; the backrest of Rodney's chair was keeping him from reaching the small of Rodney's back. "This might work better if you straddle your chair backwards."
"What for?" Rodney asked, sounding sceptical.
"Come on, you're smart. I want to reach your small back as well."
"Oh, okay." Rodney stood up, turned his chair around and sat down again, burying his face in his arms. For Rodney, it was an uncustomary vulnerable position, and John couldn't help the spike of protectiveness surging through him.
"That's better," he murmured, going back to the massage and frowning when he couldn't find the place where Rodney's Trapezius should've met his Latissimus. "Does that hurt?" he asked, gently prodding the area.
Rodney moaned pitifully, squirming away from the obviously unpleasant feeling, and nodded. "Like hell," he admitted.
"Okay, this will require more than one massage," John announced, going back to the broad sweeps across the tense back.
"What exactly do you mean?" Rodney asked, caution clearly audible in his voice.
"Let's see. You're so tense that I can't even find the points where your muscle groups should meet. It's one tense plane right now, and I can only imagine how that must feel."
"Yeah, yeah, but what exactly are you saying?"
John stilled his movements, but he didn't remove his hands from Rodney's back. It just felt too good to touch him, to gain some greater understanding of the scientist through that simple gesture. "I'm saying that you're getting your next massage in two days. You'll cuss me out tomorrow because of your sore back, but you'll see. It's going to help."
"If you say so." Rodney straightened up, stretching languidly. Then, he leaned back, apparently expecting the backrest, but landing in John's arms instead.
"Well, hello there," John said, smirking.
"I. Ah, I'm sorry, Major," Rodney stammered, blushing furiously.
"Comfy?" Rodney just nodded. "Good." John knew he really shouldn't do it, but he leaned down and brushed his lips against the slightly pouty mouth in front of him. For a moment, he thought Rodney would push him away and yell at him for jumping to conclusions or, even worse, punch him and tell him to never come even near him again. But then he felt a hand in his hair, keeping his head exactly where it was. The angle was awkward and slightly uncomfortable, but John didn't even think about complaining when Rodney slowly licked across his lips. He granted the access that was so shyly requested and closed his mouth more firmly over Rodney's, putting his hands on Rodney's chest. Where he had expected softness, he only encountered hard muscle; it felt incredible, and John didn't even try to resist the temptation of moving his fingers lightly across the nice chest under his palms. Someone was moaning, and John realised it was him.
He broke the kiss unhurriedly, pecking Rodney on lips one last time. He had to suppress a chuckle when Rodney opened his eyes slowly, looking up at him. "Well, that was different," he murmured.
"Is that a bad different or a good different?"
"Good, good. Definitely good." Rodney frowned. "I thought you were a tactile person."
"Well, I guess that I'm not too averse to some oral action every now and then."
"Well, that's good. I think."
"How much longer?" John asked casually.
"How much longer what?" Rodney retorted blankly, sounding definitely still too dazed to even understand basic coherency.
"How much longer do you plan on hanging in your lab?" John verified, smiling innocently at the man in his lap.
"I guess, ah, I could use a little break," Rodney conceded, making an effort to sit up. "Your quarters or mine?"
"Mine are closer. Let's go."
~o0o~
the end