Happy birthday Twings!
Dec. 10th, 2010 04:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sabinetzinTitle: a little story about robots
Summary: Does what it says on the tin.
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Word Count: 1289
Rating/Contents: R (for robots)
Pairing: John/Rodney
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: Ahahahaha guess who forgot it was the tenth! Anyway, I hope you have a happy birthday!
Rodney doesn't have anything against androids. He's pretty sure most of his staff are; Miko wears her hair up often enough that he's seen the flat Mitsubishi port at the base of her neck, and McNabb's so proud of his engineering that he tends to challenge people to feats of mathematics at odd times. Rodney stays out of it. If people want to tell him, that's their business, but he just really doesn't have the time to go around giving his scientists Turing tests for no reason.
It is, from what Rodney understands, much more complicated among the military contingent, the Americans in particular. They can serve, but only in special units; all this has led to, as far as Rodney can see, is a whole bunch of closet androids quietly trying to avoid detection.
The American military is good at that.
They're a little more lax about the regulations on Atlantis than at other bases Rodney has worked at; it isn't surprising, not when Atlantis is a little less strict about everything. People just seem to turn a blind eye to it; Stackhouse lifts an entire support beam off his teammates when there's a structural failure while they're exploring one of the lower levels, and no one says a single word about how he did it.
It takes Rodney way too long to realize it's because their commander is an android himself. It's the Ancient gene that throws him off, really, but that's explained easily enough- it just so happens that the person he was formulated from was a carrier. That in itself is incredibly exciting to Rodney; how many more android carriers are running around just waiting to be utilized?
Once he gets it, though, it's so obvious that he doesn't even understand how he missed it in the first place. Sheppard's too brave, too clever, too lithe for a man of his apparent age. He can keep up with Ford and he's prone to bouts of self-sacrifice and he's really funny, in a goofy sort of way. He's 2.0, alright, just a little too much of all the right things, making him just a little too perfect to be real.
And so Rodney lets himself consider John, looking him over whenever the mood takes him. It's not sexual, not entirely; he can appreciate Sheppard on the same level as a nice car or any really fine piece of machinery.
At least, at first.
It's just that John's just a little too good for Rodney's intentions to remain strictly platonic. He's not just a machine; he's a perfect simulacrum of a really hot guy. And, well, Rodney really thought he was past the age where he looked at mundane things and thought, "That is a great place to put my dick," but he has to make an exception for John's lower lip, which looks so pillowy and soft that he wants it applied to lots of areas of his anatomy.
But Rodney keeps his hands to himself. Just because John's a machine, and just because he catches John giving him considering glances at odd moments, and just because John is super hot doesn't mean Rodney's going to sexually harass him. Not until that night, anyway, the one where they're drinking- okay, Rodney is drinking, John is looking at him in amusement- and talking and indulging in some of that lingering-touches-longing-glances behavior that Rodney really hopes can only lead to one thing.
"There's something you need to know about me," John says, looking nervous.
"Look, you don't have to tell me, okay?" Rodney replies gently, his pleasure at having called it making him feel magnanimous. "I already know."
John's shoulders sag. "Thanks, buddy," he says, his hand coming up to squeeze Rodney's knee; it'd be companionable, except he doesn't let go, just lets it rest there indefinitely, and that's about the time Rodney gives up and kisses him, because he just can't not. John's kisses are just right, lush and soft right up until the point where they turn possessive and biting, which is about the time John pushes him onto the bed and climbs on top of him. Rodney's pretty sure they're missing some interim steps, but when John starts asking where the condoms are, Rodney points him directly to them, no thought at all for propriety or virtue or waiting until the third- or the first- date.
"I've never had sex with an android," Rodney says nervously, resisting the urge to wring his hands.
"Me neither," John replies, a smile on his face.
Rodney sighs in relief. "Really?" he asks. "Because I thought that-" and the end of his sentence is swallowed up by John's mouth. John opens him up and fucks him, nice and slow, face to face, and it's just a little imperfect, but that's the good stuff, the real quality engineering, so good that it's indistinguishable from the real thing.
They're lying there together afterwards, entwined, sweaty and sated, and Rodney still can't believe his luck. His fingers trace up and down John's spine, settling on the spot where his port should be.
There's nothing there.
Rodney's so startled that he actually falls out of the bed. John leans over, looking down at him with a worried expression. "Are you okay?"
"You're not an android," Rodney accuses.
John's brow knits in confusion. "Am I supposed to be?"
"I thought you were."
He looks affronted. "I mean, just because you are-"
"What?!" he squawks. "I'm not a-" He slaps his hand over his face. "Oh my god, we live in an O. Henry story."
John sits up, reaching for his pants and pulling them on. "I don't remember O. Henry writing anything about androids."
"Why did you think I'm an android?" he demands.
John taps his forehead. "Smartest mind in two galaxies, remember? Pretty sad state of affairs if a regular human's beating everyone else."
Rodney can't decide between being annoyed and being pleased. "That's just because the technology hasn't caught up yet," he says, socking away his lecture on the subject for another time. "Are you sure you're not an android?"
"I think I would know," John says, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why are you so hung up on me being an android, anyway?"
"You just have to be," Rodney insists. "You're just too-" and he just stops himself from telling John that he's perfect, which would probably be an error in judgement. "You're awful at talking about your feelings," he saves. "I assumed you didn't have any."
John shifts, uncomfortable. "I said I wasn't a robot, I didn't say I was a girl."
"What about your big confession?" he demands.
"Rodney," John says, his voice dropping into a whisper. "I was trying to tell you I was gay."
"Oh," he replies, startled. "Well. I think we covered that ground pretty thoroughly."
"Listen, I'm not-" John says, rubbing at the back of his neck. "If all you wanted was an android, then I don't think-" He trails off, not looking at Rodney.
"You might still be a robot," Rodney says cautiously. "Maybe I just didn't see your port. I should check again, just to be sure. It could be hidden somewhere." He waves his arms. "Anywhere."
"Oh, yeah," John replies, smiling carefully. "Better safe than sorry."
Summary: Does what it says on the tin.
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Word Count: 1289
Rating/Contents: R (for robots)
Pairing: John/Rodney
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: Ahahahaha guess who forgot it was the tenth! Anyway, I hope you have a happy birthday!
Rodney doesn't have anything against androids. He's pretty sure most of his staff are; Miko wears her hair up often enough that he's seen the flat Mitsubishi port at the base of her neck, and McNabb's so proud of his engineering that he tends to challenge people to feats of mathematics at odd times. Rodney stays out of it. If people want to tell him, that's their business, but he just really doesn't have the time to go around giving his scientists Turing tests for no reason.
It is, from what Rodney understands, much more complicated among the military contingent, the Americans in particular. They can serve, but only in special units; all this has led to, as far as Rodney can see, is a whole bunch of closet androids quietly trying to avoid detection.
The American military is good at that.
They're a little more lax about the regulations on Atlantis than at other bases Rodney has worked at; it isn't surprising, not when Atlantis is a little less strict about everything. People just seem to turn a blind eye to it; Stackhouse lifts an entire support beam off his teammates when there's a structural failure while they're exploring one of the lower levels, and no one says a single word about how he did it.
It takes Rodney way too long to realize it's because their commander is an android himself. It's the Ancient gene that throws him off, really, but that's explained easily enough- it just so happens that the person he was formulated from was a carrier. That in itself is incredibly exciting to Rodney; how many more android carriers are running around just waiting to be utilized?
Once he gets it, though, it's so obvious that he doesn't even understand how he missed it in the first place. Sheppard's too brave, too clever, too lithe for a man of his apparent age. He can keep up with Ford and he's prone to bouts of self-sacrifice and he's really funny, in a goofy sort of way. He's 2.0, alright, just a little too much of all the right things, making him just a little too perfect to be real.
And so Rodney lets himself consider John, looking him over whenever the mood takes him. It's not sexual, not entirely; he can appreciate Sheppard on the same level as a nice car or any really fine piece of machinery.
At least, at first.
It's just that John's just a little too good for Rodney's intentions to remain strictly platonic. He's not just a machine; he's a perfect simulacrum of a really hot guy. And, well, Rodney really thought he was past the age where he looked at mundane things and thought, "That is a great place to put my dick," but he has to make an exception for John's lower lip, which looks so pillowy and soft that he wants it applied to lots of areas of his anatomy.
But Rodney keeps his hands to himself. Just because John's a machine, and just because he catches John giving him considering glances at odd moments, and just because John is super hot doesn't mean Rodney's going to sexually harass him. Not until that night, anyway, the one where they're drinking- okay, Rodney is drinking, John is looking at him in amusement- and talking and indulging in some of that lingering-touches-longing-glances behavior that Rodney really hopes can only lead to one thing.
"There's something you need to know about me," John says, looking nervous.
"Look, you don't have to tell me, okay?" Rodney replies gently, his pleasure at having called it making him feel magnanimous. "I already know."
John's shoulders sag. "Thanks, buddy," he says, his hand coming up to squeeze Rodney's knee; it'd be companionable, except he doesn't let go, just lets it rest there indefinitely, and that's about the time Rodney gives up and kisses him, because he just can't not. John's kisses are just right, lush and soft right up until the point where they turn possessive and biting, which is about the time John pushes him onto the bed and climbs on top of him. Rodney's pretty sure they're missing some interim steps, but when John starts asking where the condoms are, Rodney points him directly to them, no thought at all for propriety or virtue or waiting until the third- or the first- date.
"I've never had sex with an android," Rodney says nervously, resisting the urge to wring his hands.
"Me neither," John replies, a smile on his face.
Rodney sighs in relief. "Really?" he asks. "Because I thought that-" and the end of his sentence is swallowed up by John's mouth. John opens him up and fucks him, nice and slow, face to face, and it's just a little imperfect, but that's the good stuff, the real quality engineering, so good that it's indistinguishable from the real thing.
They're lying there together afterwards, entwined, sweaty and sated, and Rodney still can't believe his luck. His fingers trace up and down John's spine, settling on the spot where his port should be.
There's nothing there.
Rodney's so startled that he actually falls out of the bed. John leans over, looking down at him with a worried expression. "Are you okay?"
"You're not an android," Rodney accuses.
John's brow knits in confusion. "Am I supposed to be?"
"I thought you were."
He looks affronted. "I mean, just because you are-"
"What?!" he squawks. "I'm not a-" He slaps his hand over his face. "Oh my god, we live in an O. Henry story."
John sits up, reaching for his pants and pulling them on. "I don't remember O. Henry writing anything about androids."
"Why did you think I'm an android?" he demands.
John taps his forehead. "Smartest mind in two galaxies, remember? Pretty sad state of affairs if a regular human's beating everyone else."
Rodney can't decide between being annoyed and being pleased. "That's just because the technology hasn't caught up yet," he says, socking away his lecture on the subject for another time. "Are you sure you're not an android?"
"I think I would know," John says, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why are you so hung up on me being an android, anyway?"
"You just have to be," Rodney insists. "You're just too-" and he just stops himself from telling John that he's perfect, which would probably be an error in judgement. "You're awful at talking about your feelings," he saves. "I assumed you didn't have any."
John shifts, uncomfortable. "I said I wasn't a robot, I didn't say I was a girl."
"What about your big confession?" he demands.
"Rodney," John says, his voice dropping into a whisper. "I was trying to tell you I was gay."
"Oh," he replies, startled. "Well. I think we covered that ground pretty thoroughly."
"Listen, I'm not-" John says, rubbing at the back of his neck. "If all you wanted was an android, then I don't think-" He trails off, not looking at Rodney.
"You might still be a robot," Rodney says cautiously. "Maybe I just didn't see your port. I should check again, just to be sure. It could be hidden somewhere." He waves his arms. "Anywhere."
"Oh, yeah," John replies, smiling carefully. "Better safe than sorry."
(no subject)
Date: 2010-12-10 10:20 pm (UTC)