Title: Distant Relations
Rating: R for language
Category: ER, crossovers, crack
Pairings: McKay/Sheppard, Brendan/Emmett, Grant/Alex, David/Nick
Summary: Rodney was always tired, but too wired to actually go to sleep....Instead, he always took one of John’s hands and stroked it absently, thinking about his family.
Warnings: Language; sex; spoilers for Cube, Thoughtcrimes, Traders, Cupid, A Farewell to Harry, Boa vs. Python, a few others
Notes: This is pure and utter crack!crossover material. FCOL started the idea with one of her fics, and this is what it spawned. Be very, very afraid. Run-on sentences, crossovers, and dear god watch out for that 'huh?!' factor. Oh, and unbetaed.
On the days, the horrible, terrible days where there were wraith and angry natives and nearly dying five times in an hour, Rodney would always go to John’s room (or John would always go to Rodney’s room) within minutes of the debriefing being over. They didn’t talk, they didn’t dance around each other, they didn’t do anything but touch, John latching onto his neck like a vampire and Rodney pressing as much of himself against John as possible.
They needed reassurance, needed to know each other was there, was whole.
It was always John who reached for the clothes first, hands stripping Rodney with military efficiency. Rodney was more careful, taking his time to feel over every scar--old and new--keeping control and guiding them to the bed (because they’d already broken one desk). Then they fucked, and fucked, and fucked, then fucked some more because they could and God damnit, they were alive and deserved it.
John always fell asleep immediately afterward. After their last orgasm, bam, out like a light. Rodney was always tired, but too wired to actually go to sleep. His concentration was shot, so work was never an option. Instead, he always took one of John’s hands and stroked it absently, thinking about his family. Not Jeannie and her kids, or his late parents--those thoughts always led to melancholy. No, he instead thought of his estranged family, the ones he knew by reputation.
Like Cousin Grant, whom he’d supposedly inherited his abstract genius and chocolate obsession from. One of his few relatives that was still in Canada, Grant never came to family reunions, but Rodney had heard the stories; how he’d made six million in one week, then retired to live in a park and feed the squirrels. He was suffering from some sort of neuroses, but Rodney had never received a clear answer on which one. On these nights, he wondered if Grant was still in his park, feeding his squirrels, living the simple life.
(What Rodney didn’t know was that Grant had been hired by a traders firm, had a huge income, and friends for the first time in a long time. He was living anything but the simple life, especially when he met a reporter from the New York Times at a UN Dinner. The reporter, Alex, soon became Grant’s very special friend, to the point where Grant created an Alex program--he still had the Ann program, but he preferred the Alex one now. Alex had moved up to Canada, and now Grant lived with Alex in a one-bedroom apartment overlooking the park so Grant could watch his squirrels.)
(What else Rodney didn’t know was that Alex had hair that was rarely tame and a lazy drawl, both of which were family traits that Alex shared with a set of second cousins. Alex hadn’t given much thought to his distant family--they never even had reunions, but every now and then he wondered about the one relation that had entered the military. One time he’d called Antarctica, to tell John about a stock tip Grant offered, but John had been off on a flight somewhere, and Alex forgot to call again.)
Or his nephew Emmett, who had to have his PhD by now. Rodney made a mental note to find out next time he went to Earth. Emmett wasn’t actually his nephew--another cousin--but Rodney had taken the kid under his wing, so the title was more appropriate. Despite his genetic heritage, Emmett actually had a brain. Rodney taught Emmett the joy of dangerous experiments (no nuclear bombs, but some regular sized ones), blonds, and sarcasm. The kid had had a fascination with reptiles, but after Emmett lost his sister, he’d withdrawn from Rodney. Next time he was on Earth, Rodney decided he wouldn’t just find out where Emmett was academically, he’d stop by, see if he could rebuild the bridge that had been abandoned.
(If Rodney could see Emmett now, he’d find the man in a lab in Pennsylvania surrounded by poisonous snakes and yelling at short woman with brown hair for interfering in affairs that she had no right to. The woman, Freya, was trying to tell him that it was only a job, and that Brendan still loved him. Before Emmett could respond, another man barreled in, pushed Freya aside, and grabbed Emmett’s shoulders, pinning him against the tank of a viper and kissing him desperately. Emmett shoved against the man, snarling, and Freya snuck out as the man--Brendan--whispered “it was just a job, you shouldn’t have been there--and I‘m gonna yell at you later for that--and you need to fuckin’ trust me because I will never, ever leave you!” Emmett would growl about tapping the glass, then successfully push Brendan back and head for a vault door, glancing back sharply in a way that said ‘well? Coming?’)
(What Rodney wouldn’t expect to see is an NSA agent with a photographic memory and a talent with numbers that rivaled only one man Rodney knew. The agent, named Brendan, knew of Rodney McKay from the horror stories of ex-CIA members, but had no idea that Emmett was related to him. All he knew was that his cousin John, the one member of his family that knew of his bisexuality, would’ve hated Emmett--and the snakes--but would be glad Brendan had found someone to love.)
Often, just thinking about those two would be long enough for him to nod off, but sometimes he thought of the forgotten family member, the one no one spoke of: David Worth. Rodney still wasn’t clear on how they were related, but he knew that, in his younger days, he’d been the spitting image of the man; or so he’d been told. Rodney wondered what had happened that the entire family clan just…abandoned him, ignored him, never mentioned him except in strained whispers. Who was he, and why weren’t there any pictures or records of him? Why was he a mystery?
(The truth was, David had barely escaped with his life after helping to build a deathtrap puzzle and exiled himself where no one would find him, where no one would think to look, and where no one could hurt his family. He doubted they’d miss him, he’d been a black sheep since he could speak. He worked small jobs, not wanting to go back to the work that had nearly killed him, and spent his days off out in a field, afraid to spend too long in the house for fear of flashbacks to the deathtraps. He’d been joined by a quiet stranger, with rakish hair and a slow grin. They didn’t talk much, but there was an unspoken bond that grew. Now when the flashbacks came, when the nightmares wrapped around his throat and tried to finish what the machines had started, Nick would bring him back from the abyss with soothing touches and quiet words.)
(Rodney wouldn’t find any mystery around the man named Nick, who had come to the pacific northwest to write a novel. Nick was the oddball, the family member that no one really mentioned except in passing, and how no one had seen his next book yet. Nick didn’t mind, the publishers were giving him time, and he was laying low. He also had a new story in mind, one with government conspiracies and mathematical savants, that he was going to dedicate to David. Sometimes at night, he’d lie awake and watch David sleep, feel his chest as he breathed, and think, ‘If only they understood, if only they didn’t just judge me for one mistake.’ He always thought it was ironic that he and John--the cousin who hated him the most--had more in common than anyone else in the family.)
Every so often Rodney would wonder about the cousin who had a sick child, or the one that worked on wall street and paid for phone sex and gotten robbed because of it (no one had yet to top that scandalous affair at the McKay family reunions). Usually, though, he just fell asleep, lying flat on his stomach, but curling an arm around John and resting his chin on John’s shoulder. He was curious, though he’d never ask, if John ever thought about his family, and if the rules ever changed, if John would introduce him to them. He doubted it, but one could dream.
(John would never admit that he thought about his family, his cousins. About the wealthy architect who refused to help him that one time he really needed it, about the unmentionable gay photographer that frowned when he heard about John going into the air force, about his Israeli uncle who was killed by a terrorist strike in a café. They were people in his life, people he cared for as family, but would probably never be close to. Usually, though, he thought about how they would react if they knew about what he was doing, who he was with, how important he was now. Sometimes he imagined unleashing Rodney’s sarcastic wit on the lot of them, and that always made him smile, even in his sleep.)
(It was probably a good thing that neither of them planned on going to any reunions in the near-future. The odds of relations of two different families getting together were astronomical, and the physical resemblances would probably drive Rodney insane and make John crack one of his ‘well, this is…odd’ smiles. Despite the odds, though, they were all happy. And if Rodney and John didn’t know that Emmett and Brendan painfully avoided any interaction with Grant and Alex during the next McKay Christmas party, it was probably for the best.)
Crossposted to mckay_sheppard, psychic_snakes, and sga_6degrees.