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04 April 2007 @ 01:35 pm
No Pants, McShep, R  
Title: No Pants
Author valderys
Rating: Discussion of said pants, and the imminent removal of such :)
Word Count: 886
Notes: Just a little something to say thank you to runpunkrun for her month of fantastic ficlets – sorry it’s so late!


“No pants, Rodney!”

“Yes, thank you for your masterly statement of the obvious, Major Xenophobe, now how about you get out of here. I have work to do.”

“That’s Lieutenant Colonel Xenophobe to you. And anyway…”

Rodney looked up from the schematics he was analysing, to see Maj… Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, scuffing his toe on the decking like a little boy. Rodney rolled his eyes.

“I realise that sharing a ship with a member of the Asgard seems to have unreasonably perturbed you, Colonel, but I fail to see why his pants or lack of pants, have anything to do with the situation.”

Sheppard did that weird almost pouty thing, and tipped his head to one side. Rodney tried, and failed, to ignore the jump in his stomach that Sheppard trying to be winsome always caused. Really, Rodney ought to throw him a tin of tuna, rub his ears and be done with it. He was as screwed now as the day Mr Flibble walked in his window in Toronto, and sat down on his laptop. Rodney sighed.

“Come here,” he said, closing that laptop’s many-times successor, and snapping his fingers.

Sheppard looked sullen, like he didn’t really know what Rodney wanted, and Rodney refrained from rolling his eyes again. Honestly. If he’d wanted these histrionics, or the assumption he could read minds, then he could just have stayed lusting after Colonel Carter, or any one of another dozen bimbos.

Then Sheppard looked at the door, made an annoyed noise when it didn’t automatically lock snugly, and tried the handle instead. It was locked. What did he think, that Rodney was a moron?

John then – and only then – slouched over to Rodney’s workbench. Rodney’s mouth went dry just from watching him, and he forgot his annoyance. John leaned against the bench, and then smirked at Rodney through his lashes. God, what was Rodney thinking? He didn’t want a hundred bimbos – or a thousand! He had this, all to himself.

Urgently, Rodney grabbed John’s belt loops and reeled him in, aiming unerringly for the pulse point on his neck. His temple got scraped by John’s afternoon stubble, and Rodney shifted, trying to avoid beard-burn, which, let’s face it, would be terribly embarrassing, wherever he ended up with it. John made a ‘mmm-hmm’ noise, and lifted his chin, which Rodney correctly interpreted as meaning, ‘yeah, that’s right, come on, just there’. Amazing how little needed to be conveyed by actual words if you were one Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard.

But then John moved, and not in the good way. Surprised, Rodney lifted his head to see John shift restlessly, and look away.

“Hey, this pants-less thing has really got you bothered, hasn’t it?” he tried, wondering slightly at this people-reading ability he seemed to have developed when it came to certain stubborn idiots.

“Because they’re alien, Rodney,” said John, in a voice that was definitely, absolutely not meant to be a whine.

“Hello? Another galaxy? Spaceships? What gave it away?”

“But aliens… bugs… they’re dangerous. That’s all.”

John was tense in his arms, the mood – if there’d been a mood – all shot to hell.

“Hey, hey…” said Rodney, drawing his arms up John’s back, and carding one hand through his hair. Hell, maybe John really was a cat in another life, because he relaxed into the caress, and his features smoothed out. At least then he had the grace to look sheepish.

“It’s just… There’s the Wraith… We’ve never met a good alien,” said John, a plaintive note in his voice.

“And I suppose you want nothing less than Hermiod wearing a white hat and offering to join the posse?”

Rodney paused for a moment with that image in his mind. For some reason Hermiod developed Jimmy Stewart’s drawl. He shook his head.

John looked annoyed, but probably, on balance, not with Rodney. “I know it doesn’t make any sense.”

Except that it did – experience maketh the man, and all of that. John had no visceral reason to trust Hermiod, and whole lot of them that told him ‘aliens equal bad’. What John needed was a distraction. Rodney slid down a hand and cupped him through his pants. John drew in a sharp breath, fingers tightening on Rodney’s arms.

“Think of it this way – pants-less aliens have no way to do this…” said Rodney, and drew a nail lightly up the fabric.

John’s eyes went dark, blown wide. Rodney decided to accept his many talents had their uses, and that it was absolutely nothing to do with John getting turned on by the thought of Hermiod, in any context. He hoped.

“Yeah,” said John, hoarsely, “Pity about that.”

“And it also means,” said Rodney, “That they would have no use for me doing this.”

He slid onto his knees.

Nuzzling material, and rapidly developing heat, Rodney looked up and allowed his smile to show. This time John smiled back without the pout, and Rodney thought, score one for the home team.

Of course, the inevitable paranoia continued in his mind, if John now ended up associating the Asgard with blowjobs, then he would only have himself to blame. Although he’d take that risk, Rodney decided, if only he could have this, and this… and this.

He got on seriously with the task of rendering another being pants-less.
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all right, so you're nonchalant: that's doctor mcsmartypants to yourunpunkrun on April 4th, 2007 06:24 pm (UTC)
Poor John, all freaked out by the pantsless alien. Rodney's sweet to distract him. ;)

Thank you!
Valderys: Hermiod - pants?valderys on April 4th, 2007 10:13 pm (UTC)
That's our Rodney - just sweetness itself! :) And thank you - it's been such a great month.
the giggle: Hermy pancaked!egiggle on April 5th, 2007 05:01 am (UTC)
*loves*

*is seriously bad at giving feedback*

*adds to del.ici.ous*
Valderys: Hermiod - pants?valderys on April 5th, 2007 09:27 pm (UTC)
Hey, any feedback=love! *hugs you*
What, does he wanna date me or kill me?krysalys on April 5th, 2007 05:14 am (UTC)
*squee*
This? Awesome.
*flails*
NO! PANTS!
*flails more*
Better John than Hermiod, hrm?
*snerk*
-----}-@
Valderys: Hermiod - pants?valderys on April 5th, 2007 09:29 pm (UTC)
Re: *squee*
Love your icon! And you have just put an image in my mind that Rodney was very carefully trying to keep away from his! Eww. *giggle*
Eliyes: bobby disgustedeliyes on May 1st, 2007 02:06 am (UTC)
According to Michael Shanks (Shank? S or no s?) the Asgard wear pants. They're just fleshtone. Or at least Thor does, and he voices Thor, and Thor owns Jack, and anything he can do to discourage people giving him photoshopped pics of Daniel and Jack having sex is good, in his mind.

I was going somewhere with this.
Pouncerthepouncer on July 28th, 2007 03:27 am (UTC)
I transfer stories to my palmpilot for later reading, and I noted this one down to recommend. Now that I've found it again, I wanted to tell you that I'd have adored it just for naming Rodney's cat Mr. Flibble. But then you made it about John Sheppard's freak out and Rodney's attempt to distract him and it was funny and hot and made me happy. Thank you!
Valderys: Hermiod - pants?valderys on July 31st, 2007 04:15 pm (UTC)
You are very welcome! I nearly missed this comment because I'm travelling at the moment and only checking lj infrequently - but I caught it via this new comments on your front page thing that lj does. So score one for their new layout!

And I don't know why I used Mr Flibble - I suppose scientific names were getting old... I like the thought of Rodney chuckling along to Red Dwarf.
theeverdreamtheeverdream on September 7th, 2009 07:31 am (UTC)
Squeee! I love love love the last line.
Valderys: Hermiod - pants?valderys on September 8th, 2009 05:31 pm (UTC)
You're very welcome! My goodness, I'd nearly forgotten I even wrote this little ficlet! :) I'm so happy you enjoyed it.