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SGA Fic: The appeal of scientists and circuitry (Rodney/Radek)
This foray into McKay/Zelenka was written for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
scribewraith but turned out much, much less porny (and more geeky) than I intended.
As a word of forewarning, I haven't seen a lot of Zelenka (but I still want to marry him!) so his speech patterns might be a little out. Also, it's 2am here and my knowledge of SGA science is minimal and fanon-based, so please feel free to point out any errors.
(I also wrote a little "McShep" drabble forgirl_clone, but that's just silly fluff. Still, it's been a writing night for me, and now, I need to get some sleep.)
Title: The Appeal of Scientists and Circuitry
Fandom: SGA
Pairing: McKay/Zelenka
Rating: NC-17 (more for nudity than actual smut)
Summary: There are advantages to sleeping with a fellow scientist.
Disclaimer: The wonder that is Zelenka (and the whining that is McKay) belong to people who aren't me.
The Appeal of Scientists and Circuitry
Sleeping with a fellow scientist had its advantages. It was someone else who understood irregular sleeping patterns, who didn't expect you to talk before you'd had at least two cups of coffee. It was someone who spent enough time in a lab not to care about healthy tans or perfectly coiffed hair (which John insisted his was, despite all evidence to the contrary), and someone who valued brains over brawn. And to put it plainly, if Rodney was going to sleep with anyone, it needed to be someone who valued the intellectual over the physical.
That was what had first attracted him to Radek, after all. Not the sly smile or the kind eyes; not the fine, if receding, hair. It was the way he'd looked at Rodney's programming for bypassing the temperature controls to correct the air-ducts, then said, "Interesting. We could avoid the safety but... Here. This loop is left open," and then pointed to the one error in his coding.
There was more than the purely intellectual to their involvement. There was home-distilled vodka and a similar sense of humour (especially when it came to Dr Kavanaugh). There was also the physical: Radek's sure and nimble hands; the sensitive, highly responsive line of skin beneath his jaw; the way that he could press Rodney over a table, or desk, or bed and fuck him until his brain shut down completely.
It wasn't that Rodney didn't appreciate those aspects of the relationship. He appreciated -- god, did he appreciate! -- them, but it was the professional similarities that he really enjoyed. Having someone who nodded along when he started mumbling incomprehensible jibberish (or, in Rodney's case, nodding while Radek muttered jibberish in Czech) was important. Even more important was having someone who didn't take personal offence if you stopped in the middle of something, grabbed for pen and paper, and started scribbling down theories.
Rodney understood that these qualities, these similarities, were advantages. He was thankful for them. Really.
Except right now, there was a chance he would kill Radek if he didn't stop scribbling down theories and resume what they had been doing.
Rodney refused to move. He was lying, stark naked, on Radek's bed, his knees bent and his legs spread. Radek had been kneeling between them, driving Rodney crazy with two of those talented, talented fingers sliding in and out of him. Then he'd stopped, said something in Czech that could have been "Eureka!" or "My house is on fire!" for all Rodney knew, and dashed over to the desk.
Rodney stared at the ceiling (which like the walls and floors of Atlantis seemed to have been carved with tiny, intricate patterns that served no practical purpose) and counted down from ten. He gave Radek until five, and then he spoke. "Are you coming back here this century?"
Radek shook his head and waved off the question. It was a familiar gesture (one Rodney himself had made many, many times) but normally the scientist making it wasn't naked with frizzy bed-hair.
"What are you working on?"
"Power supply," Radek replied, scribbling madly. "Its... Stop talking."
"Stop talking? Pffft."
Radek didn't even look up. "I am working. Please. Be quiet."
Sighing, Rodney rolled over to his side. This didn't look good. "Why should I?"
"Because if you do not stop talking," Radek said, huffing out a sigh, "I will turn around to look at you, and I will lose my thoughts."
Rodney felt one side of his mouth quirk up into something resembling a smile. "You would?"
"Yes, I would. Now be quiet so I can write this down and then we can finish having sex."
Rodney could do that. Rodney could be patient. He could lie here, stretched out on the bed, and watch the curve of Radek's back, the bare thighs and ass as he bent over the desk, writing about something interesting. Something really interesting, from the way he was frowning and tapping his left index finger on the page.
There was a wrinkle of concentration across Radek's forehead and he was muttering to himself in nonsense vowels, working his jaw as he wrote. He only did that when he was working on something really complicated.
Throwing himself out of bed, Rodney walked over and tried to read the notes and formulas over Radek's shoulder. "You're working on the connection between the naquada generators and the circuitry?"
"Look, here," Radek said, stabbing his finger at a diagram, "we are losing power in transference, in heat."
"Because we had to adjust them when we first... Oh." Rodney stopped as comprehension hit him over the head with a two-by-four chunk of wood. "We never went back to fix up the circuitry."
Nodding, Radek turned to look at him, eyes bright with ideas. "It was not a high priority..."
"...but now it is, because everything we find needs power," Rodney finished. Radek's mouth was only an inch away, so he pressed a warm kiss to those smiling lips. "I can't believe I didn't think of this sooner."
"You want to fix it now?" Radek ducked his head sideways, pointing in the rough direction of the bed. "Or..."
"Now." He kissed Radek one more time, sweet and soft, and then turned back to the notes written in Radek's haphazard scrawl. If the rough calculations were right (and knowing Radek, they were), they were losing five to ten percent of the power output. That was too important to ignore. "Circuits now..."
"...sex later."
scribewraith but turned out much, much less porny (and more geeky) than I intended. As a word of forewarning, I haven't seen a lot of Zelenka (but I still want to marry him!) so his speech patterns might be a little out. Also, it's 2am here and my knowledge of SGA science is minimal and fanon-based, so please feel free to point out any errors.
(I also wrote a little "McShep" drabble for
girl_clone, but that's just silly fluff. Still, it's been a writing night for me, and now, I need to get some sleep.)Title: The Appeal of Scientists and Circuitry
Fandom: SGA
Pairing: McKay/Zelenka
Rating: NC-17 (more for nudity than actual smut)
Summary: There are advantages to sleeping with a fellow scientist.
Disclaimer: The wonder that is Zelenka (and the whining that is McKay) belong to people who aren't me.
The Appeal of Scientists and Circuitry
Sleeping with a fellow scientist had its advantages. It was someone else who understood irregular sleeping patterns, who didn't expect you to talk before you'd had at least two cups of coffee. It was someone who spent enough time in a lab not to care about healthy tans or perfectly coiffed hair (which John insisted his was, despite all evidence to the contrary), and someone who valued brains over brawn. And to put it plainly, if Rodney was going to sleep with anyone, it needed to be someone who valued the intellectual over the physical.
That was what had first attracted him to Radek, after all. Not the sly smile or the kind eyes; not the fine, if receding, hair. It was the way he'd looked at Rodney's programming for bypassing the temperature controls to correct the air-ducts, then said, "Interesting. We could avoid the safety but... Here. This loop is left open," and then pointed to the one error in his coding.
There was more than the purely intellectual to their involvement. There was home-distilled vodka and a similar sense of humour (especially when it came to Dr Kavanaugh). There was also the physical: Radek's sure and nimble hands; the sensitive, highly responsive line of skin beneath his jaw; the way that he could press Rodney over a table, or desk, or bed and fuck him until his brain shut down completely.
It wasn't that Rodney didn't appreciate those aspects of the relationship. He appreciated -- god, did he appreciate! -- them, but it was the professional similarities that he really enjoyed. Having someone who nodded along when he started mumbling incomprehensible jibberish (or, in Rodney's case, nodding while Radek muttered jibberish in Czech) was important. Even more important was having someone who didn't take personal offence if you stopped in the middle of something, grabbed for pen and paper, and started scribbling down theories.
Rodney understood that these qualities, these similarities, were advantages. He was thankful for them. Really.
Except right now, there was a chance he would kill Radek if he didn't stop scribbling down theories and resume what they had been doing.
Rodney refused to move. He was lying, stark naked, on Radek's bed, his knees bent and his legs spread. Radek had been kneeling between them, driving Rodney crazy with two of those talented, talented fingers sliding in and out of him. Then he'd stopped, said something in Czech that could have been "Eureka!" or "My house is on fire!" for all Rodney knew, and dashed over to the desk.
Rodney stared at the ceiling (which like the walls and floors of Atlantis seemed to have been carved with tiny, intricate patterns that served no practical purpose) and counted down from ten. He gave Radek until five, and then he spoke. "Are you coming back here this century?"
Radek shook his head and waved off the question. It was a familiar gesture (one Rodney himself had made many, many times) but normally the scientist making it wasn't naked with frizzy bed-hair.
"What are you working on?"
"Power supply," Radek replied, scribbling madly. "Its... Stop talking."
"Stop talking? Pffft."
Radek didn't even look up. "I am working. Please. Be quiet."
Sighing, Rodney rolled over to his side. This didn't look good. "Why should I?"
"Because if you do not stop talking," Radek said, huffing out a sigh, "I will turn around to look at you, and I will lose my thoughts."
Rodney felt one side of his mouth quirk up into something resembling a smile. "You would?"
"Yes, I would. Now be quiet so I can write this down and then we can finish having sex."
Rodney could do that. Rodney could be patient. He could lie here, stretched out on the bed, and watch the curve of Radek's back, the bare thighs and ass as he bent over the desk, writing about something interesting. Something really interesting, from the way he was frowning and tapping his left index finger on the page.
There was a wrinkle of concentration across Radek's forehead and he was muttering to himself in nonsense vowels, working his jaw as he wrote. He only did that when he was working on something really complicated.
Throwing himself out of bed, Rodney walked over and tried to read the notes and formulas over Radek's shoulder. "You're working on the connection between the naquada generators and the circuitry?"
"Look, here," Radek said, stabbing his finger at a diagram, "we are losing power in transference, in heat."
"Because we had to adjust them when we first... Oh." Rodney stopped as comprehension hit him over the head with a two-by-four chunk of wood. "We never went back to fix up the circuitry."
Nodding, Radek turned to look at him, eyes bright with ideas. "It was not a high priority..."
"...but now it is, because everything we find needs power," Rodney finished. Radek's mouth was only an inch away, so he pressed a warm kiss to those smiling lips. "I can't believe I didn't think of this sooner."
"You want to fix it now?" Radek ducked his head sideways, pointing in the rough direction of the bed. "Or..."
"Now." He kissed Radek one more time, sweet and soft, and then turned back to the notes written in Radek's haphazard scrawl. If the rough calculations were right (and knowing Radek, they were), they were losing five to ten percent of the power output. That was too important to ignore. "Circuits now..."
"...sex later."
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