Title: Gun Control
Author: CJ
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay
Feedback: Yes, please.
Email: [email protected]
Disclaimer: All characters belong to their respective creators, none of whom are me.
Warnings: None, just plain schmoop.
Author’s Note: Huge thanks go out to eternalmusings and betagoddess. Without these two gems, nothing I write would ever be readable. Thank you both. Any mistakes found within are entirely mine. Most likely because I was too stubborn to listen to the advise of those who know better.




"No no no. That's not how you do it!" John tugged the earphones off his head and reached over, pulling back the pair keeping Rodney from hearing him. "Stop shooting," he yelled directly into Rodney's ear.

Rodney winced at the sudden screaming in his ear that came after nothing but silence and muted explosions. He turned, glaring at the source of his irritation before being spun back around to face the other direction. John's voice, lowered considerably, held just as much irritation as he felt himself when it sounded from just behind him. "Never point your gun at anyone unless you're going to shoot them. That's rule number one."

Rodney tried to turn again, the gun safely pointed at the sky; the way John had shown him several times. "I thought you said rule number one was never to draw your gun unless you were going to use it."

"That was before you pointed a loaded gun at me," John snapped. He took a deep breath, calming himself and trying to find his center, the way Teyla had taught him during one of their exercises on meditation. He thought it was funny how he never needed to meditate until he'd met Rodney McKay.

When he opened his eyes, he noticed the tension in Rodney's shoulders - the way the scientist was holding his head up high and puffing out his chest. All clear signs that he'd just gotten Rodney's dander up, as his grandmother used to say. "Look, I'm sorry for snapping. This is the first time I've ever had to teach someone to use a gun. Or to do anything, really. I've never been much of a teacher."

Rodney glanced behind himself, looking into John's face just long enough to see that the apology was sincere, before turning back and busying himself with unnecessarily reloading his gun. "Yes, well, you'll just have to work on that for future reference. The next person you teach anything to may not be as forgiving as myself."

John laughed. He couldn't help it, something about Rodney always rubbed him the wrong way, but, in the end, he always seemed to find humor in it. Something else he'd never felt much of before Rodney. And John decided to stop right there on the list of things he hadn't felt before he'd met Rodney, or they might have to wind up cutting this lesson short. "Okay, how 'bout I teach you the way my Dad taught me?"

Rodney had just enough time to get out, "And how's that?", before he felt John's arms coming around his shoulders, hands resting on his wrists.

"This is a dream," Rodney muttered. He almost gave into it before he heard John's chuckle and his husky voice whisper, "You always dream about shooting guns?"

"On-only metaphorically," Rodney stuttered out. In fact, he'd dreamed of nothing but having John's arms around him for weeks now. And now that they were, he felt it was completely unfair. *This should be a dream, dammit.*

But when he felt the work-roughened fingers clasped with his own, holding his hands steady, he forgot to care that it was real. He leaned back, pressing into the warm length of John's body, warm puffs of breath caressing the nape of his neck and causing his knees to shake.

He turned his head slightly, eyes closed in pleasure. The breaths on his neck came quicker, louder. He could feel John's erection digging into his back and he knew that John was right there with him.

"John," He breathed out.

"Shhhh, don't talk. Just feel." John spread his fingers, forcing Rodney's hands open, and clasped both of their hands together. The gun fell to the floor, clattering loudly against the metal, but neither of them heard it as John closed his arms around Rodney, pulling him in tighter.

John rolled Rodney against him, spinning him slowly in his arms, keeping their bodies connected, until he could look into the scientist's eyes. Well, he could have if those eyes had been open. He smiled at that and leaned forward.

Their lips met and everything stopped, the universe itself holding its breath for a moment. When time resumed, there were whimpers of need, moans of pleasure, the sound of fabric tearing as they tried to pull each other impossibly closer. And then it was over, the need for oxygen becoming too great to fight off.

John pulled back, watching Rodney's face as he waited to see the fireworks he was sure would be coming. Instead, what he saw – for the first time – was confusion. There was no overbearing confidence, no condescending superiority, but better still, there was none of the fear that had always lived in the corners of Rodney's eyes.

Just confusion, like he was trying to work out a math problem that had been poking at him. And when those eyes cleared, they smiled up at John, and lit up for the first time with a brilliance that John didn't know he had longed for until he saw it.