14 Things That Happened Off-Screen
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: mention of BSDM, virtual character death, mention of drug use
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard, Emmett/Brendan
Summary: Because it amuses me so: a collection of outtakes and mini-sequels.
AN: Beta-read by Denis and broet_chan. Thank you!
Again, Smuffster made an awesome cover – please have a look, and tell her how amazingly talented she is. :)
14 Things That Happened Off-Screen
Eighty Days Give or Take
"I don't think I can do this," Elizabeth said, and sighed.
"Yes, you can," Radek answered from where he had been inspecting some frighteningly realistic dead people, trying very hard to look supportive. But she shook her head.
"No. Radek, I appreciate the thought, but this is just too… too…"
"You wanted to play something stereotypically male, something to help you understand the need to use brute force when there are other options available," Radek reminded her. "I don't know about the other options, but you don't get more macho male than this in classic pop culture."
Elizabeth grimaced. Then her face took on a look of determination. She set her shoulders, took a deep breath, and opened her mouth.
And roared.
"KHAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!"
An SGA Fairy-Tale
"So."
"Hm."
"You are going to stop kissing other people. Aren't you?"
"I'm not entirely sure. Some of the things Radek did, while I wouldn't call them spectacular, were still very impressive."
"Rodney."
"What, are you jealous?"
"No."
"Well, you should be. I mean, fine, so apparently you get me, but that doesn't mean others shouldn't as well. Take Sgt. Miller. If that man fucks as good as he kisses, he could easily satisfy half of-"
"Rodney."
"What?"
"Shut up."
But Never the Nights
Radek sat in front of his workstation, trying to concentrate on the task at hand instead of the silence. His colleagues had trailed out of the lab early, leaving him to work alone. He tried not to think about how a week ago, it had been Rodney who arrived first and left last, always working except for the sudden and rare occasions he decided to take a day off.
Very, very rare.
Radek sighed, and reached for another tool. Creating a device from spare parts and construction diagrams that were only in his mind had always been a welcome distraction from the hard parts of life. This one was different, though. It was almost like an offering to a god, an attempt to appease him so he'd come back.
Considering Rodney's rule over the labs, maybe that comparison wasn't even that far off.
He fixed a few last cables with the soldering iron, carefully screwed the tiny panel shut, and flipped the switch. With a content little hum, the miniature generator came to life. Radek's best working model to date.
Radek blinked rapidly as his eyes blurred behind his glasses.
All in all, he would have preferred being mocked for wasting his time.
The Cat And The Raven
"Meeeeeoowwwrrrr…hssssssssss!"
"Aaaaahck! Aaaaahck!"
Mr. Fluffles narrowed his eyes.
Ungrateful bastard.
Dead Zone
John wasn't really thinking about it. When Dr. Heightmeyer lost what looked like a rolled-up string of leather in the middle of the mess hall, he reached for it and picked it up-
-sweat glistening on the straining body as her slave fought against his bindings. She smiled, caressing his blindfold with the fingertips of one hand while the other continued to hold the frozen dildo in a firm grip. His hole was already loose and glistening, and he gasped with a mixture of surprised pain and arousal as she pushed the tip of the dildo inside, waiting for him to adjust to its width. Then, with one fluid movement, she slid it into him, all the way in, watching him squirm and shudder, listening to his throaty moans as he was stretched, filled up with icy cold-
Heightmeyer blinked at him when he dropped the leather string into her hand and darted off to a nearby table without so much as a 'here you go'.
"Don't you want to eat anything?" Rodney asked when John heavily sat down on the chair across from him and scooted as close to the table as he could.
"In a while," John answered.
First, he really needed to lose his hard-on.
Routines
Here he comes, Self-Defence thought, and braced herself. The Scientist was quickly walking down the corridor, The One at his side like most times these days. Atlantis, of course, was following the object of her infatuation, reaching out to open one of Door's 'own', as he liked to call them, before The One had even approached the sensor.
Self Defence beat her to it with nanoseconds to spare.
The Scientist rolled his eyes when the door flew open with unusual speed, but his snort was lost in Atlantis' indignant squeal and Door's deeply insulted, "that's it, you think you can do it better, do it yourself."
All over the city, doors closed and refused to open while various systems shorted out in response to Atlantis' outrage.
Self Defence laughed, and darted to another set of circuits.
She'd make it up to them. Later.
Nova (the yet unwritten Chief Engineer!Rodney/Half-Vulcan John AU)
Then there was the time some intellectually challenged Vulcan stole John's katra.
"I don't even know what secrets he's hoping to uncover," Rodney snapped at the ceiling. "The forgotten technique of how to take ages to accept your own emotions?"
Not that most Vulcans even had emotions, carefully training them away from earliest childhood. One more reason none of those people would even want to touch John's mind with a stick.
"And it's not like you're that important. Well, except for, you know. Um. Personal reasons."
Instead of an answer, John just drooled a little more on Rodney's shirt, staring blankly at the red fabric. Rodney hugged his partner closer.
"I'm going to kill that guy," he promised.
That Fuzzy Feeling
John woke in the middle of the night, feeling thirsty as hell. His tongue felt like it had been coated with fur, and his limbs like they had been filled with jell-o.
It took a moment before he came up with a reason for his present state, and then he groaned. Rodney. Who had drugged him, god damn it.
The scientist was snoring quietly, drooling on his pillow. Until John elbowed him as hard as he could, which admittedly wasn't all that hard right now.
"Whassup?" Rodney asked, blinking blearily at John.
"I'm thirsty."
"Then get somethin' to drink." Rodney rolled his eyes and wrapped himself deeper into the blanket.
"I was thinking you might want to do that," John suggested, false patience dripping from his voice. From somewhere under the covers, he could hear his partner's muffled, "why?"
"Because then I won't have to kill you once I can move again."
Rodney's head appeared from underneath the blanket, wide blue eyes staring at John, who smiled back, taking care to show his teeth.
He got several glasses of water that night.
Answer Man
John had taken Rodney's lab stool hostage and watched his scientist work. It had been two slow weeks, with no one running into trouble either off world or in Atlantis itself. And yes, they all were grateful for the peace and quiet, but, well… it was so quiet.
John was bored.
"So I've been thinking," he started, waiting for the acidic remark. It didn't come. Hm. "I've been thinking," he repeated for emphasis, "and what if we put a shield in front of the balconies? Then no one could fall down anymore."
"Takes too much energy," was the distracted answer.
"Then what about connecting them to life signs detectors? That way, they'd only be on if someone was near the railing."
It would never work, of course, but he wanted Rodney to tell him that exact thing. Preferably with a long explanation that included hand waving, complicated phrases, and a few choice words concerning John's lack of intelligence.
"Major, would it be possible for you to take your inane questions and go bother someone else?" was all he got from Rodney, who was still distracted by the figures on the screen of his notebook.
John sighed and spun lazily on the stool.
Apparently, romance was dead.
Ghost Writer
"You know, if you hadn't smashed the other one in your display of manly anger, you wouldn't have this problem."
"Shut up," John muttered distractedly, ignoring the ghost hovering in the kitchen doorway.
He'd find the start button on this coffeemaker, and if it killed him.
Shagging the Sheikh
"I am not wearing those."
"Aw, come on, Rodney," John wheedled. "It's gonna look hot."
"It's gonna look degrading and stupid, and I'm not wearing them." Rodney crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the offending harem pants. "And I don't care how humiliating it was to get them through customs; if you like them that much, you put them on."
John had the audacity to look affronted.
"But I'm the sheikh."
"And how, exactly, is that a reason not to wear see-through garments?"
"Well, first of all, I thought I'd be naked and spread out for my harem boy." John grinned, and Rodney could feel his face flush at the mental image.
On second thought…
Once Bitten
Brendan grimaced as the corn snake tried to curl itself around his wrist, again. He had visited Betty before, yes, and Emmett had kissed him for a solid five minutes, full body contact to make sure Brendan smelled like 'family' to the giant snake. But standing alone in her terrarium, he wasn't entirely convinced she wouldn't simply gulp down his forearm along with the food.
A sudden movement to his left made him flinch, and then she was there, very red and very big, staring down at him and the unlucky snake that was now wound around his arm right up to his elbow. The small head in his hand was still trying to wiggle itself free, and yes, escaping sounded like a good idea right about now.
Betty came closer, her tongue tasting the air around him. Careful not to make any hasty movements, Brendan tried to tug the corn snake away from his arm – less than successful, unfortunately. The giant mouth opened, bad breath and sharp teeth, and Brendan closed his eyes.
Sorry, Emmett.
The lipless mouth closed around his hand, large scales that felt weirdly soft. Betty pulled, and the corn snake clenched around Brendan's arm. Then it grew limp, easily pulled off as Betty drew back. The boa swallowed with an audible gulp.
So did Brendan.
The Greenhouse
"Papa?" Soliel Tulipe asked, her pale blue petals fluttering with curiosity, "what's a bumblebee?"
Tulip choked on his fertiliser, gaping at his daughter, who was almost bouncing in her flower pot.
"They are insects," he finally managed after briefly considering throwing himself from the shelf again. He could do it; he'd survived the first time. "Frisk- fuzzy little creatures with wings that, uh, fly around in the air. Outside," he added, hoping the topic was closed with that.
No such luck.
"And what do they do?" his daughter wanted to know.
"Yes, tulip. What do they do?" her other father, may his roots tangle, chimed in. Annoyed, tulip jutted his blossom forward.
"They pollinate."
He ignored the way sunflower's leaves were trembling with barely suppressed laughter.
"What is 'pollinate'?"
Tulip was still searching for a way to answer that question and not die of mortification when his son let out a put-upon sigh.
"Oh, for Sun's sake! A bumblebee sticks its trunk into your florets, collects the nectar and the pollen, flies on to another flower and collects their nectar, by proxy sticking your pollen to the other flowers' stigma and thus producing lots of little flowers."
Soliel Tulipe stared at her brother, then back at tulip, silently asking for confirmation. Tulip just nodded, speechless. His daughter thought for a moment, then a shudder of pure disgust went through her.
"Ewwwww!"
High Stakes
"So. What's it with you and cats?" John wanted to know, watching Rodney place several bowls of watered down milk around the back of his cottage. Earlier, they had been filled with mystery meat and strange spices, but the countless stray cats that beleaguered the place around lunch time had made short work of those.
"I like them." Rodney shrugged, set down another bowl, and went back in to get a few more. John leaned against a tree, watching the cats lap up their drink. Then he tensed.
There was a loud rustle in the woods, something breaking through the nearby underbrush. John's hand jerked reflexively to his belt, where he still carried his throwing knives. He froze and stared as the something broke through the last bush in a flurry of leaves and twigs.
A black-haired man wearing nothing but an eye patch darted across the clearing behind the cottage, muscles flexing under scarred skin in a disturbingly sensual way. The man grabbed two of the bowls, hissed at the cowering cats, and disappeared into the woods with a growl.*
John blinked.
Sometimes, he really missed Ankh-Morpork.
+++
* John thought it sounded like "Laterrr, Rawrrrdney," but he must've misheard.