Title: Trapped
Author: Wendy Parkinson
Email: wendyparkinson@hotmail.com
Category: Humour
Pairing: Sheppard/Weir
Spoilers: none
Season/Sequel info: none
Rating: PG13
Content Warnings: none
Summary: Rodney McKay finds himself in an embarrassing situation.
Archive: Sheppardandweir, anyone else please ask, but I’ll almost certainly say yes.
Date: 16th May 2005

Author’s notes: Written for the sga_flashfic ‘Voyeurism’ challenge.

Disclaimer: Stargate:Atlantis and its characters belong to MGM. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

All feedback and constructive criticism will be greatly appreciated. No flames please.

Trapped

Rodney McKay closed the door behind him and breathed a sigh of relief as he looked round the small room. Yes, this would do nicely. A large workbench against the wall, a chair… and plenty of peace and quiet. He pulled out the chair and sat down.

The rest of the scientists had been driving him to distraction. Doctor McKay, could you just…? Doctor McKay, as you’ve got the gene, perhaps…? Doctor McKay, do you think my findings…? He’d been ready to tell them exactly where to stick their Ancient artefacts, when something inside him had snapped and he’d made a bid for freedom. Grabbing the item he was working on – a small box with a red flashing light on the top – and a couple of screwdrivers, he’d left the lab with no clear destination in mind.

He’d followed his nose into one of the uninhabited parts of the city and started trying doors. It hadn’t taken him long to find this place. He wasn’t sure what the Ancients used the room for – it was too bare to give any clues – but it suited his purposes perfectly. It was quiet, secluded and no-one knew he was there.

Placing the box on the workbench in front of him, he took the screwdrivers out of his pocket and frowned. He hadn’t been able to work out how to open it. He still couldn’t. There were no obvious catches, seams or buttons. The only break in the totally smooth surface was the small flashing light.

He picked the box up and turned it over in his hands. It rattled enticingly, taunting him. Putting it back down on the bench, he gripped it firmly in one hand and prodded experimentally at the light with a screwdriver. Suddenly the tiny bulb came free, shot up in the air – missing Rodney’s flailing hands by a mile – bounced on the floor and rolled out of sight under the workbench.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath as he put the box and screwdriver on the bench and got down on his hands and knees. Crawling under the bench, he blinked a couple of times, trying to get used to the dim light. He squinted. Where was it? He skimmed his hand across the floor, trying to feel for the bulb. He crawled further under the bench, until his hand brushed up against the back wall. Yes, there it was. He picked up the bulb and started to twist round, ready to crawl back out, when the door swung open and he saw a pair of uniformed legs enter the room.

“Major, if you could just come in here for moment? I need some help with an urgent matter.”

Elizabeth? Oh no, he thought, there goes the peace and quiet. He was about to open his mouth to tell her to go somewhere else, when a second pair of legs joined her. The door closed, and he heard the sound of the key scraping in the lock. “Urgent?” said a familiar voice, teasingly. “Just how urgent, Lizzie?”

Lizzie? No-one called her Lizzie and lived to tell the tale. Why was Sheppard calling Elizabeth Lizzie? Did the man have a death wish?

Suddenly, there was a flurry of movement and two bodies slammed up against the table, knocking the chair to one side, and coming to rest a couple of feet in front of him.

“I’ll take that as a ‘very urgent’.” Sheppard’s voice was hoarse, his breath coming in short gasps.

McKay’s mouth dropped open. Were Elizabeth and Sheppard…? Staring at the writhing tangle of legs in front of him, he listened for a moment.

Heavy breathing. Check.

Moaning. Check.

Wet slurpy noises. Check.

Oh yes, they were getting hot and heavy two feet away from him.

He had to let them know he was here, before they decided to do the horizontal tango on the floor and saw him. That would be a doozy to explain, wouldn’t it? Sorry, but I was just doing an experiment to ascertain how much I could take before I passed out from manly embarrassment. No, not going to work.

He crawled forward a little, ready to clear his throat, and hopefully make a quick getaway.

A bra drifted to the floor right in front of him. Elizabeth moaned. God almighty, McKay thought in horror, Sheppard works fast.

Blushing to the roots of his hair, he shuffled backwards. No, there was no way he was going out there if she was… No, he couldn’t. This was Elizabeth.

“Lizzie, I want you,” murmured Sheppard.

“John, please.” There was the sound of more clothing being unfastened.

McKay winced… shuddered… and stuck his fingers in his ears. There were some things he really didn’t want to know about his friends.

It was then Rodney realised his mistake. As well as sticking his fingers in his ears, he should have shut his eyes, because then he wouldn’t have seen Sheppard’s pants hit the floor, closely followed by his boxers, and what he assumed was the rest of Elizabeth’s clothing. Who knew she wore black lace panties?

He wished he didn’t.

Rather belatedly, he closed his eyes.

The workbench shook and shuddered around McKay, who tried to think of anything except what was going on right next to him. Calculating square roots, reciting pi to twenty decimal places, inventing interesting ways to torture Kavanaugh – stringing him up by his ponytail would be a good start – but nothing worked. The workbench rocked violently. Did the earth move for you? he thought grimly. It wouldn’t stop moving for me.

And just how was he going to be able to look Sheppard and Elizabeth in the face after this? He dropped his head forward and rested it on his knees, then realised that the bench had stopped moving. Cautiously, keeping his eyes tight shut, he removed his fingers from his ears.

“God, that was amazing,” Elizabeth said, her voice punctuated by little kissy noises. He tried not to think which part of Sheppard she was kissing.

Rodney could hear the smirk on the Major’s face when he replied, “Yeah, I like it when we’re spontaneous.”

“Well, we’d better get back before someone misses us.” There was a rustle of clothing, and McKay felt the relief wash over him. Thank God. They were getting dressed and would be going soon.

And he could plan the course of therapy he was going to need with Heightmeyer.

He cracked open one eye experimentally. Two pairs of uniformed legs stood in front of him, facing each other. Another slurpy noise. Ugh. He shuddered. Enough with the sloppy kisses, thank you.

After one last lingering kiss, Sheppard headed for the door. “My place tonight?”

“Sure,” she replied. “I should be able to make it about eight.”

McKay breathed a very quiet, controlled sigh of relief as Sheppard disappeared from view, and Elizabeth followed him to the door. Thank God. It was over. He could have his nervous breakdown in peace.

He watched her legs stop in the doorway. “Rodney?” she said quietly. “You can come out now.”

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