The Midnight Rider (sabinelagrande) wrote,
The Midnight Rider
sabinelagrande

Told you this tag is useful.

Title: Results May Vary
Summary: Four ways John, Rodney, and Radek got high (and together). Side effects may include euphoria, blackmail, dry mouth, confessions, headache, altered libido, irritability, and the ability to taste colors. Consult your doctor before use.
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Word Count: 4360
Rating/Warnings: NC-17, manly sexxoring, dubious use of the English language, slight crackiness, fuckin' bad words and shit
Pairing: Zelenka/Sheppard, McKay/Zelenka, McKay/Sheppard, McKay/Sheppard/Zelenka (and a partridge in a pear tree)
A/N: I have decided to take a break from drinking (tempranillo) and capslocking on Twitter (imnotsatan) to post this. Did I mention the semester is over? Cause it is. No more will my students torment me. For a good three weeks. You, flist, or a subset thereof, will appreciate why I had to nickname one of them Kavanagh: she's really smart and she's not willing to let us get away with sketchy grading, but she's so fucking annoying that I want to throw her into the vacuum of space.



1. M is for Bear

"You are so fuckin' cute," John tells him, rolling his head over on his shoulder at what looks, from where Radek is standing, to be an extremely uncomfortable angle.

"Thank you?" Radek answers, uncertainly.

None of them knew exactly what was in the tea that John and the high priest had consumed in the overly long ritual of welcoming- but the last time Radek had seen somebody look like that, they'd accidentally eaten half a pan of his sister's very special brownies.

To John's credit, he finished the trade negotiations, though declaring Atlantis and the people M3R-514 "best buds forever" was possibly a bit too exuberant. The effects of the cup they'd shared during the closing ceremonies, though, were enough to make Ford break things off with a smile and shuffle everybody back into the jumper.

"McKay!" John calls suddenly.

"Here!" Rodney yelps, despite himself, clutching at John's shoulder in surprise.

"There you are. This man," he explains to Radek, pointing at Rodney with an unsteady finger, "this man right here, he is my friend." John pronounces the words with all the gravitas of a skilled orator, a very serious look on his face.

"Yes, yes," Rodney says, looking rather embarrassed.

"He's not cute though. He's like, y'know, one of them things. With the claws." John draws his hands up to his chest, aping something with talons, and growls the most pitiful little growl Radek has ever heard.

"A T-Rex?" Rodney asks, in genuine confusion.

"Medvěd," Radek tries, not able to remember the English off the top of his head.

"Doesn't he sound so fuckin' cute when he says that?" John says to Rodney, in an extremely loud whisper, amid fits of giggling. "I wanna put him in my pants and take him home." He frowns. "That doesn't sound right. McKay, why do I sound stupid?"

"You've been drugged, Major," Rodney tells him. "We're taking you to see Carson now."

"It sucks," John says, passionately, his head flopping straight back. "Oh my god, how long have we been in a puddlejumper? Who in the fuck is driving?"

"We're two minutes out from the gate," Ford replies from the cockpit.

"Hey Ford!" John says cheerily, but Rodney and Radek both push him down when he tries to sit up. "When did you get here?"

"Please relax," Radek urges him, his hand still on John's chest. John rests his own hand on top of it, looking up at him for a moment before turning to Rodney.

"I like his hair," he explains. "It's all crazy, like, I dunno, like he doesn't really give a shit. Like he gets up in the morning, and he's like," and John puffs himself up slightly, but he doesn't put on the ridiculous accent everyone else does when trying to imitate him, "'Fuck my hair, I got science to do.'"

"Maybe he's sobering up," Rodney deadpans, above John's head.

"But it's really fuckin' cute. He's really fuckin' cute," he continues. "Pocket! That's what I meant. I wanna put him in my pocket. Don't tell him I said that."

"Dialing the gate," Ford says, and Radek is a little glad that John can't see it activate- otherwise, they'd have to sit here for twenty minutes so he could look at the pretty colors.

The med team Rodney's called for is waiting in the jumper bay, and John lets himself be maneuvered on to a stretcher without complaint.

"Carson!" John says emphatically. "Carson," he repeats, dropping his voice into a very serious whisper. "Carson, I am really high."

"I know, Major," Carson replies, examining his pupils. "Let's get you to the infirmary."

"Can I bring Dr. Zelenka?' John asks, sounding like he's asking about his teddy bear.

When Carson looks over at him, Radek throws up his hands and shrugs. "Of course, lad," Carson assures him. "He's right here, see?"

"Yay," John says, reaching for Radek's hand again. "He's so cute," he whispers to Carson.

To Rodney's credit, he waits until Carson decides John's in no danger before he goes out into the hallway and dies laughing.

--

To Radek's credit, he lets the matter lie for a whole week before saying anything. John comes out of his experience with the hangover of a lifetime, a new trading partner, and a complete inability to look Radek in the face- but, otherwise, unchanged.

Eventually though, even Radek's well-tested patience wears thin, and he goes down to John's quarters one night after dinner.

"Major?" he says to the closed door, in between persistent knocks. Radek is, as usual, defenseless against the Ancients- John could leave him in the hallway, and that would be the end of that- but the door hisses open, and Radek thinks that must mean something.

John is standing stiffly next to his bed, which takes up so much of the small room that they're already quite close, an uncharacteristic blush on his cheeks.

"We should talk, yes?" Radek says, smiling at how unexpectedly endearing it is.

"I apologize for anything I might have said the other day," John says, his posture straightening even more unnaturally, reciting the words- which don't sound anything like him- rather than actually meaning them. "I was given hallucinogens against my will. I am deeply sorry if I made you uncomfortable with any of my actions."

"Maybe is hallucination," Radek says, shrugging. "You thought Rodney was a dinosaur." He takes another step into John's space, but John doesn't back away. "Perhaps is not." John bites his lip when he realizes that denial is not working, but he still doesn't move.

"But if you really think I'm 'fuckin' cute'," he continues, and his atrociously fake American accent makes the other man laugh, despite himself, "then I would like to know."

John doesn't kiss at all like he'd imagined. He keeps things light and soft, letting Radek take the lead. When Radek takes his face in both hands, teasing his mouth open with his tongue, making it last, John moans, ever so softly, and Radek can feel him blushing furiously.

It's really fucking cute.


2. Inflection Patterns

"Does it hurt?" Beckett asks, touching his face lightly.

"A crazy man punched me in the face," Zelenka replies, as the doctor's fingers find a particularly tender spot.

"You'll have a bruise, but you're fine," he says, "but don't think I've forgotten that you're both high as kites." McKay rolls his eyes, starting to protest about how long it's been since Beckett shot them full of stimulants, but the doctor cuts him off. "Both of you need sleep and lots of fluids- especially sleep. Do not, under any circumstances, let him go to the lab," he admonishes Zelenka. "When you crash, it's not going to be pleasant."

"We will take care of ourselves," Zelenka assures him, smiling his most placating smile; it's only just enough to get them released.

"I couldn't sleep if I wanted to," McKay complains, as soon as Beckett is out of earshot.

"What do you want to do?" Zelenka asks as they step into the transporter.

--

In Rodney's quarters, McKay and Zelenka play ten increasingly horrific games of chess; it takes far less time than it should, because both of them keep jumping impulsively around the board. When McKay actually beats him with the old five moves trick, Zelenka divulges a bottle from his hip pocket, moodily tipping it up.

"How long have you had that?" McKay asks, raising an eyebrow at him

"I keep it in the lab," he admits. "World was ending. Seemed good to have it at hand."

"Sure that's a good idea right now?"

"Vodka is a fluid," Zelenka says defensively; the "fuck you, McKay" is implied. He raises the flask for another swig, but McKay is quicker than him, snatching it out of his hands only to drink it himself.

Between the two of them, they drain the flask and clear the chess set in what must be record time, other than when Zelenka drops a king and has to crawl under the bed to get it. Once he's clear, McKay flops heavily onto the mattress, running through Hanon exercises on the covers, because he needs to do something with his fingers or he's going to go crazy.

"Still not tired," Zelenka complains, tapping his foot so much that the bed shakes with it.

"What do you want to do?" McKay asks, sighing, hoping he'll say anything but chess. Okay, not anything, because if he says he wants to play Risk, McKay is personally going to open his veins and end it all.

When he doesn't say anything at all, McKay looks over- only to see an unmistakable look that he never, ever expected to see on Zelenka's features.

McKay has long since realized that, as loath as he is to admit it, he's an anything-that-moves kind of a guy. And, well, he and Zelenka spend more time together than any two people should. And Zelenka- Zelenka, tiny engineering genius that he is, is always the first to crawl into the Ancient coffee grinder or whatever that's broken this week- so consequently Zelenka spends a lot of time on his hands and knees around McKay.

So it's not like he hasn't thought about it- with some regularity and in great detail- or anything.

"Don't be ridiculous, we're on vasoconstrictors," McKay tells him, deflecting, not really wanting to be the one who makes the call. "We shouldn't be able to-" Whatever McKay is about to say is cut off when Zelenka palms him through his pants. "Oh. I see your point."

"Chceš mrdat?" Zelenka asks, his voice low, slightly hoarse, incredibly dangerous, and inexplicably hot.

"God, yes," McKay responds. The man could be asking him to jump off the east pier, for all McKay knows, but he'd do just about anything suggested in that tone of voice.

McKay doesn't even remember about Zelenka's injured face before he kisses him hungrily- but it turns out it doesn't matter, because it just encourages him to move his lips down to McKay's neck, sucking a mark onto his skin that'll take a week to heal. McKay can't seem to make his twitchy fingers understand that the two of them need to be very naked, right goddamned now; when the button on Zelenka's fly comes off in his hand, he just tosses it over his shoulder and moves on to the zipper.

McKay has no idea how they get up from the bed- everything is moving in a jerky rhythm of fits and starts, like the world is so slow and they are so fast. They all but tear the bathroom apart looking for lubrication- but that's fine, because as it turns out that the counter is just the right height for McKay to set Zelenka on and throw his legs over his shoulders. He makes an attempt to prepare them both with at least some amount of care, but Zelenka is biting his neck and swearing at him to hurry it the fuck up, so he slicks himself up haphazardly and just drives into him.

Zelenka makes this sound- he isn't quite sure what he'd call it, some kind of choking-gasp-moan, but he's pretty sure he wants to hear it a couple hundred more times. There is nothing gentle whatsoever in the way he keeps slamming up into him, but the farther and harder he pushes, the more Zelenka seems to love it. And fuck, the more he loves it the more he keeps making that sound, and McKay feels like they're stuck in some bizarrely addictive feedback loop that he has no intention of getting out of.

Zelenka has completely abandoned the English language- which is also fine, because all McKay can seem to say is "Oh god" and "Take it, you bastard," neither of which is actually a message he absolutely needs to convey. He throws every bit of his nervous energy into fucking Zelenka, partially because he's so elated to have an outlet for it, but mostly because McKay's discovered that, no matter how good the man is when he talks, McKay likes him best when he's incoherent.

He's already lasted way longer than he expected, but the trend isn't going to continue a whole lot longer. He grabs Zelenka's hand and guides it to his cock; luckily he gets the picture pretty quickly, working himself as McKay fucks him. It's not even a minute before Zelenka comes, squeezing McKay inside of him- and McKay could have sex every day for the rest of his life and never get over that feeling. A few more thrusts and he comes harder than he has in ages, practically screaming with it.

It is only with extreme difficulty that they get themselves at least marginally cleaned up and into McKay's bed. Zelenka's legs just don't want to work right, and McKay's pretty sure he pulled something, but between the two of them they still sort of constitute a functional being. And it may be awkward in the morning or next Tuesday or whenever they get up, but they're both far too tired to worry about clothing.

McKay's last thought before he drifts off is that if this is how the crash starts, it can't be all that bad.

--

McKay doesn't wake up so much as come to, groaning in pain. His mouth tastes like something died in it, possibly whatever ate his brain and threw up into his bloodstream. The wildly irreverent, horribly flippant thought crosses his mind that this must be what people feel like after being attacked by baby Wraith.

"Please, get license plate," a voice says from next to him, and it takes McKay a moment of bleary contemplation before he remembers why someone else is in his bed.

"What?"

"Of truck that hit me," Zelenka replies.

McKay doesn't even have the strength to mock him for it. "I'm never getting out of this bed again," he moans.

"You think you feel bad," Zelenka says, accusingly. "You broke me."

He manages- somehow, and with no small amount of pain- to turn towards him. "You certainly didn't mind last night."

"Seemed like a good idea at the time," he replies noncommittally.

They are both covered in sweat- and Zelenka looks about as bad as McKay feels, the promised bruises from Ford's punch marring his face- but it feels good to be close, as if his hands on Zelenka's biceps are going to ground him. "This is fine, right? You're not going to file harassment charges or never speak to me again, or anything?"

"When we are humans again, I'm going to fuck you through the wall," Zelenka assures him.

McKay groans pitifully. "If we're ever human again. From now on, we stick to coffee."

"Ano."

"This is all your fault," McKay tells him as he settles in closer, without any venom in his voice.

"You made Dr. Beckett give me amphetamines. Your fault."

"Yeah, well, you gave me booze and begged me to have my way with you, so you're the proximal cause," McKay reminds him. "Did he really give us amphetamines?"

"You kept bothering him," Zelenka replies. "And I did no begging."

"Wow. No wonder I feel like I'm going to die."

"No talking," he admonishes, resting his forehead against McKay's chest. "Is upsetting beehive where brain used to be."

"I should call Carson," McKay says, ignoring him- it's not like Zelenka doesn't tell him that ten times a day even under normal circumstances. "Maybe, in his infinite mercy, he'll euthanize us."

Zelenka shakes his head, his hair tickling McKay's neck. "He'll be too angry to- to put us out of our misery. He said not to do any work."

"No, he said not to go to the lab, which we didn't."

"Perhaps if he had thought to say, 'don't fuck poor Radek almost to death' we wouldn't be having this problem."

"Oh yes, poor you," McKay says, unable to stifle a yawn. He's surprised when Zelenka pulls away, wincing as he climbs out of the bed. "What are you doing?"

"I use the bathroom, get us some water," Zelenka replies, shrugging. "Sleep another twelve- no, sixteen hours, have sex, go back to lab. Live to fight another day."

"God, I love the way you think," McKay tells him.

He's asleep before Zelenka ever makes it to the bathroom.


3. Nomenclature

McKay the genius is something John puts up with on a day to day basis. Puts up with it, despite occasionally wanting to push him into the ocean- not from high enough to kill him, mind, just enough to learn him. Puts up with it, because McKay is his best friend, his responsibility, the only person who laughs at half his jokes, the only man he's ever- not that he'd ever admit it- really loved. Puts up with crying scientists and with marines who're only one more comment away from murder, and even with the fact that McKay impresses the hell out of everyone on the damn planet while John remains just another flyboy, no matter his rank.

McKay the genius is inured to everything. As fond as McKay is of his own intellect, it's something he takes for granted, something that's always there, nothing to write home about. The hardest problems of two galaxies fall to pieces in his fingers; he takes apart reality and remakes it, all before lunch.

But sometimes, on very rare occasions, he doesn't.

Sometimes, Rodney isn't good enough or fast enough or smart enough to get to the solution. Sometimes all he can do is sit there, wringing his hands and swearing at Zelenka, forecasting doom and destruction to anyone who will listen. Sometimes genius just fails.

And there, in the eleventh hour, something in Rodney's brain just goes. John wants to compare it to a light bulb, but he thinks it's more like a supernova. And suddenly, despite all odds, Rodney transcends, just goes off somewhere higher, and then he's got it.

When that happens, it's like he can almost see it on Rodney's skin, like he's charged with it. He looks euphoric, like he's totally gone on the really good drugs- it reminds John of himself the first time he ever flew, only ten times more intense, possibly because the world wasn't constantly ending then like it is now. That's what John sticks around for- because it just does something to him to see Rodney that happy that John isn't even sure he could explain.

The fact that it also leaves Rodney incredibly horny is a bonus.

Rodney of the eleventh hour is a much better fuck than McKay the genius- not that John would ever admit it. When he's like this, all he wants is John underneath him, wants to hold him down and just have him, over and over again. It makes John feel a little like he's being devoured, like Rodney is just going to keep taking him until he takes everything. But that electricity that fills him starts to crackle through John too, like he's conducting it with every touch, and John feels like he's flying, like he's just going to come apart in Rodney's hands.

After they've got done saving the world for the umpteenth time this week, Rodney rolls off of him, panting slightly. John wants to get closer, curl up against Rodney's side, but damned if he can move his hips right now.

Rodney sits up, bashful in a way that he never usually is, explaining that he just might maybe have kissed Radek earlier- John raises his eyebrow at that, mostly because it's the only part of him that's not sore. And he'd been really tempted to bring him to join them, he admits sheepishly, but he hadn't wanted to scare John. It doesn't have to be something they plan for or anything- but wouldn't he like that? Wouldn't that be okay? Doesn't he think Radek's, you know, kinda hot?

The thing is, Zelenka and McKay are very much alike. They scream and yell and bitch at each other every day, but when they're on it, they're on it, and John can see Radek glowing just like Rodney does.

John lets out a laugh that's almost a groan.

They're gonna kill him.


4. Idiomatic Expressions

"Colonel Sheppard," a voice says to him through his headset. "It is Dr. Zelenka," he adds, as if John hasn't been hearing his voice on the radio for the last two years or anything.

"I'm here," he answers, waving a hand at Teyla, who lowers her sticks and allows him a momentary reprieve.

"I need your help immediately," Zelenka continues. "I am in lab three."

"I'm on my way," John assures him, bowing to Teyla.

"If Dr. McKay is nearby, please bring him."

"I copy," Rodney's voice says, tinged with faint annoyance, no doubt at being pulled from his work.

"Zelenka clear," Zelenka says, and the headset clicks itself off.

"Back to work," he tells Teyla, pressing their foreheads together.

Except that when he makes it to lab three, Rodney in tow, there isn't any work being done.

He hears odd, out of place noises playing from the tinny speakers of a laptop before the door even opens. What the fuck, has Zelenka asked them down here to watch porn? That's weird- that's even past Pegasus weird, right into John-doesn't-even-know-what weird.

It takes John a good minute and a half before he realizes that Zelenka is watching porn of him.

Him and Rodney to be specific. Oh, he remembers this now- they'd gone to MX-whatever the fuck, a horrible little planet with nothing but very malicious plants. He and Rodney had gotten into something- eaten a fruit with some weird hormones in it, wasn't that it?- and come home pissed off and insatiably horny. They hadn't even made it back to the bed- John had locked them into the gym and taken Rodney right up against the wall. He'd almost forgotten about it even happening.

He's certainly never going to forget again.

"Is that on the server?" Rodney asks, his voice tight and choked off.

Zelenka shakes his head. "USB drive. Only copy."

"It has to be destroyed," John tells him, his voice sounding harsher than he'd realized it would.

He smiles widely. "I think perhaps that we can work something out."

The realization hits John square in the face. "You're blackmailing us."

"No, no, not blackmail," Zelenka says, shaking his head, and John relaxes very slightly. "Exploitation, maybe."

"What do you want?" he asks, already planning how he's going to mitigate this.

"I will," he stops for a moment, thinking, "come between you and Dr. McKay."

"That's a pretty fucked up thing to say, even for a blackmailer," John snaps, his heart racing. Rodney looks like he'd been punched in the throat.

"I don't know what you expected to hear," Zelenka replies, nonplussed. "Is greedy, no, keeping something like this to yourselves?"

John opens his mouth to speak, but stops short, tilting his head to the side and looking at the diminutive Czech appraisingly, a relieved smile on his lips.

"I'm not going to stand here and listen to this," Rodney says, color rising in his face.

"Fine, fine," Zelenka replies, catching his wrist before he can storm out. "You can be in the middle, if is that important."

"I don't know what you're trying to-" he says, but he stops. "Wait, what?"

Zelenka makes a gesture that very clearly says, "Now is a good time to catch up to the rest of the conversation."

"Oh," Rodney says, getting it. "Oh. Oh, okay, yeah, that's fine."

"You sure?" John asks. "Cause you don't sound all that fine."

"No, it's just- I was worried-" he shakes his head, pulling his collar away from his neck. "Is it hot in here to you?"

Zelenka snorts at that. "Not yet. Give it twenty minutes."

"I like him," John tells Rodney. "Can we keep him?"

"Don't ask such difficult questions," Radek admonishes. "Not enough blood to run his brain and anywhere else at the same time."

"You could've just asked to join instead of scaring me out of my mind," Rodney chides, ignoring their comments.

"It just came to me as I was watching video."

"Wait, that mission was months ago," John points out.

Zelenka has the decency to look sheepish. "I did not say I was watching it for the first time." He looks at Rodney, who is still panting and trying to get over his shock; something passes over his face, like he suddenly gets it. "Did you think that I was wanting to force you?"

Rodney rolls his eyes. "Good job."

"Surely you must know that Colonel Sheppard would- what is the phrase? Break me like a branch?"

"I swear, Radek," he says, looking upward as if evoking a higher power, "I'm going to tie you up and leave you on the linguistics department's doorstep. Somebody's going to get a PhD out of this: 'What Is This Man Talking About: An Examination of the World's Most Unfortunate ESL Student.'"

Zelenka snorts. "This from a man who only talks in pointing and swearing."

Rodney crosses his arms. "At least I don't sound like I have Broca's aphasia."

John clears his throat theatrically. "Guys? We're kind of in the middle of something here?"

"Not here," Zelenka says, moving away as John reaches for him. "Security feed is so easy to access, even Kavanagh could do it."

"This is no time to be talking about Kavanagh," Rodney snaps, making a sour face.

"This is no time to be talking," John shoots back. "First one to Rodney's quarters gets to be in the middle," he says, before taking off down the hallway.

"Why my quarters?" Rodney calls after him.

"I only have a twin bed!" the response comes from the hall.

"Distasteful," Rodney says to Zelenka, with an exaggerated sigh.

"I agree," Zelenka replies, grinning.

"Someone should teach him a lesson."

"Exactly my thought."

"Great minds do think alike, after all," Rodney muses. "Shall we?"

"Please, after you."
Tags: fic, porn, sga, slash, threesome = very yes
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  • #I LOVE EVERYONE IN THIS BAR

    So, thanks to tumblr, I'm sitting here writing this sad Quicksilver/Scarlet Witch + Charles/Raven story, w/e, sad, contemplative story is sad and…

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    Okay, okay, I have other things to post about, but it's late, they're long, and they have to go under flock. So instead here are two short, amusing…

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