Clingy

A/N: SGA and its characters don't belong to me. *sigh*


“It’s three hours, Rodney. Three hours.”

Sheppard wasn’t saying it, except he was. Even you can cope on your own for three hours.

“Yes, Colonel, I got that. Three hours. For you, three hours spent nice and comfy in Atlantis, watching football and drinking coffee. For me, three hours trying not to catch poison ivy or let any hostile natives capture me for sticking in their cook pot.”

Even before the radio clicked again, Rodney could feel the frustration coming off of Sheppard, albeit he was light years away. “Rodney, they don’t have poison ivy in this galaxy.”

“There’s no doubt an equally unpleasant version.”

“And name me one time – one time, Rodney – when we’ve come across cannibals who’ve tried to eat us, raw or otherwise.”

“Just because it hasn’t happened yet….”

“Rodney! Look we checked the place out thoroughly before we left. We couldn’t find any sign of sentient life. Even if there is, you’re armed. Now, just stay near the Gate but under cover and as soon as Zelenka figures out how to switch the shield off we’ll come get you. Alright?”

Rodney glanced at the 9mm holstered against his thigh like it was a coiled rattler. He could always throw it.

“Alright. Just…don’t take all day.”

“We’ll be there as soon as we can. Sheppard out.”

Rodney sighed as he clicked his radio off. It was his own fault. He’d been all ready to step through the gate back to the city with Sheppard at his side when something had caught his eye. Something…unusual…glinting away in the grass that surrounded the gate. He’d only paused a second but it was enough to let Sheppard go through and then suddenly Sheppard was screaming in his ear, “Rodney, don’t come through the gate. Stay there, stay there!”

He’d never heard Sheppard so terrified and it had melded his feet to the stone dais the gate was raised on. His nose was within touching distance of the blue iris of the wormhole.

Sheppard had had the closest call. A millisecond longer in the wormhole and when the shield suddenly came on, he’d have been smashed into it, his molecules torn apart and spread out through dimensional space, like grains of sand in a desert storm.

Rodney climbed down the steps to examine what had either saved his life or put him into this position in the first place. It peeked out from among the thick grass, prompting Rodney to kneel and dig it out. He turned the silver disc over in his hand, examining the markings. It looked like a coin. One side held the emblem of the gate; the other looked like some kind of animal, like nothing he’d even seen.

A coin. So much for no sentient life. Rodney threw it up, caught it and smacked it onto the back of his hand, before realising he’d no real idea if heads or tails counted in Pegasus. Then he remembered what Sheppard had said, about staying clear of the gate, and headed back towards the forest.

*-*

An hour later, he’d munched through two power bars and swallowed half his canteen of water, when he started to consider maybe he should be preserving his rations. It was all well and good for Sheppard to make an estimate of how long it would take to fix the shield – well, it was probably Zelenka’s estimate – but he wasn’t facing an indeterminate period cut off on this planet, with limited resources.

If Zelenka couldn’t fix the shield, they’d have to send the Daedalus for him. But the Daedalus was halfway back to earth. It’d take about 6 weeks for her to turn around and come back and then, probably another two to reach this place. Two months, on his own.

Rodney folded his arms, determined not to have anything else to eat until he’d at least heard back from Sheppard in two hours. He felt a little guilty over the football and coffee comment. Sheppard would be doing no such thing; he’d be alternating between haranguing Zelenka for answers and hovering in the control room ready to jump through the gate as soon as they turned off the shield. Rodney wondered why it had come on and why it wouldn’t turn off even after the wormhole was closed. That had never happened before and while Ancient technology malfunctioned like its less advanced Earth equivalents, Rodney wasn’t convinced this was a malfunction.

But he’d worry about that once he was back in Atlantis.

He carefully examined a tree he’d been standing near. It was quite large, with wide spread boughs that could shelter him from both sun and a little rain if any started. He circled it carefully but there were no nasty creatures nestled in its roots, no mildew like patches or suspicious stains that could have been man eating tree mould.

He sat down gingerly, leaning back against it, looking up every now and again to check the trunk and branches. One of the marines had laughed at him once, at his notion there might be arboreal snakes in this galaxy. Why wouldn’t there be? They had trees. They had birds. They had insects. On one world they’d even seen something very similar to horses.

So they had weird curled horns poking up from behind their ears, but still.

Rodney wasn’t about to die here from a snakebite if he could help it.

There was another power bar in his hand before he knew what he was doing. He tsked himself and shoved it back into the pocket of his combat vest. Only another hour and a half. He wasn’t going to go into hypoglycaemic shock if he didn’t eat for an hour and a half.

It was all about willpower, and control.

He leaned his head back against the trunk and started to factor how much power the Daedalus would use if they had to come pick him up. Eight weeks from now. Eight weeks with half a canteen of water; three, no two power bars because the one he’d put away was back in his hand and when exactly had he taken a bite of it, and two MREs. That wasn’t rationing, that was starvation.

If Sheppard was here, it’d be live off the land. No problem. Sheppard was a soldier, trained to survive in situations like this.

Rodney wasn’t. He could probably make a fire starter from the stuff in his back pack, like the one Teyla had. That’d be easier than that rubbing two sticks together rubbish: he’d been sentenced to go camping once with Jeannie and the family next door and he’d seen their dad trying it, to cook their dinner. It had taken him two hours and he was a scout master or something. They’d have been quicker getting in the van and going back to the city to get drive-through.

But a fire was alright if you had something to cook on it; Rodney had no idea how to set traps and the thought of having to kill something if he did manage to catch anything…well, yuk. Of course if he was hungry enough, he’d have to, but really – last resort.

He finished the power bar and stared longingly at the wrapper. A replicator would be handy. Like on Star Trek. Just programme in the contents and make up of a power bar and you could have as many as you liked. If such a thing was actually possible which he said it wasn’t and Zelenka said it might be, and Miko just shook her head and went back to whatever she was doing.

He settled back against the tree trunk again, and wondered how much longer. He could look at his watch but he had a feeling it’d tell him only half an hour, if that, had passed since the last time he’d checked. But it was hard to be the one having to sit still and wait on a rescue. Hard to be in a situation where he’d couldn’t do anything to help himself. Beyond hiding in the woods, watching for tree-snakes.

Sighing Rodney closed his eyes. He wasn’t going to sleep, just rest a bit. It would while away the time and if anything came sneaking up on him, he’d hear it. He didn’t know what he’d do then but he was a genius. He’d figure something out.

Despite himself, Rodney dozed.

*-*

Finally, he thought, as someone patted his vest, fumbling a little as they tried to rouse him.

“What took so long?” he mumbled, opening his eyes and expecting to find Sheppard standing there, that dozy grin on his face.

Except no one was standing there. Not Sheppard. Not Ronon. No one.

Rodney frowned. Maybe he’d dreamed it. But he was sure he’d not been asleep – resting his eyes – that long. He glanced at his watch – fifteen-

“Shit!” He jumped up, kicking frantically, so breathless with fear he was nearly squealing. The green thing – vine, root, just please god not a snake, drew away from him and undulated back towards the tree trunk.

With one of his power bars in its grasp.

“Hey!” Indignation overtook fear and Rodney grabbed hold of the power bar and yanked. The vine yanked back and he could feel its irritation. “No way, that is mine!” He gave a final pull; the vine let go long enough for him to grab the bar then promptly smacked him on the wrist.

Rodney yelped and dropped his snack. Quick as lightning the vine grabbed it, still two feet over the forest floor and hurriedly withdrew, lounging over the lowest branch of the tree. It waggled its prize teasingly at Rodney and then retreated out of sight.

A moment later, the wrapper came wafting down to land at his feet.

Bastard, Rodney thought. Still, better the power bar than him. He quickly patted his pockets. One left. And his MREs. He hurriedly snatched up his pack from where he’d left it and checked the contents. At least the whatever hadn’t been in there. Clearly it thought as much of the field rations as most of the rest of Atlantis. Rodney seemed the only person who thought them perfectly edible and in fact preferable to a lot of the stuff they traded for.

Or maybe it just hadn’t figured out the zipper, although the button on his pockets hadn’t given it all that much trouble.

Rodney inched closer to the tree, a little curious. Maybe it was vegetarian. If he was a hungry big vine thing – well really it wasn’t that big, quite slender in fact – and there was him or an admittedly calorific power bar, there’d be no need for consideration in the matter.

He hoped it was vegetarian.

After a moment it reappeared, winding around the trunk and then stretching out to hover in front of him.

Rodney watched it as though hypnotised, until it made a supposedly sneaky move for his combat vest.

“Ha! I don’t think so!” He smacked the vine away and folded his arms across his chest, covering the pocket where his last remaining power bar was hidden.

The vine let its tip droop, like the tail on a told off puppy dog. Rodney felt an instant of guilt but it was his power bar after all. And if rescue didn’t come soon, he was going to need it. But he was starting to get peckish again.

“Okay, look. I’ll give you half.”

The vine perked up immediately. Rodney stared at it, non-plussed. It understood him?

“I’m still dreaming,” he murmured. Maybe on Earth telegraph vines could communicate with each other over distances, but they didn’t do it in English. Still he opened the bar and broke it in two, putting one half in his mouth before holding out the other piece on the palm of his hand.

The vine inched forward, and gingerly took the offered treat, stroking Rodney’s palm as it did so.

It wasn’t that unpleasant to feel. He’d thought it might be sticky, maybe a little cold or with those tiny hairs sprouting all over that some plants seemed to have. But it didn’t. It was a little warm, quite soft, but not in an unpleasant squicky way. Rodney grinned as it disappeared behind the trunk with its share. He listened to see if he could hear it eating but there was nothing.

Shouldering his pack, Rodney moved quietly around the trunk. When he got to the other side, he was disappointed to find nothing there. Had he scared it away?

He jumped suddenly as something tapped him on the shoulder, spinning to find the vine hanging down from the same branch as before, twitching a little.

“Very funny,” Rodney said. “And that was the last one, so don’t bother begging.”

If it were human, the vine’s movement could have been considered a shrug. It didn’t pull away now the food was gone, as Rodney had expected it to. Instead it inched a little closer and patted his cheek.

“What?” Rodney asked. The patting became a long, slow stroke.

Rodney shivered; maybe it was man eating after all and the power bars had been the h’ors d’oeuvre. But the vine made no hostile move. Instead it inched a little lower and tucked itself under the collar of his shirt.

Rodney jerked as it slipped down quickly, a little too quickly and flicked playfully across a nipple.

“Okay, that’s enough of that!” He grabbed the vine and started to tug it out but before he could it reached his other nipple and flicked it just once, then started to rub over the bud.

Rodney’s knees trembled a little, enough that he had to let go of the vine and grab the tree trunk for support. Ok, so his nipples were sensitive. But he wasn’t going to stand here and be molested by some sentient, tactile plant….

Okay, yes he was, because if he were honest it was the only action he’d seen this side of his 34th birthday and Lt Colonel Sheppard had been happily ignoring his attempts at showing interest. He wasn’t that in demand he could afford to knock back an offer – even if it was an entire other species.

And also, it was moving straight down, across his stomach, curving a little over his paunch – at least it wasn’t complaining he had love handles – and down just a little further.

And a little too far.

And God not far enough.

He couldn’t stand, but he couldn’t sit down or lie down or do anything that might tempt the wondrous creature in his pants to move away or stop what it was doing which right now was wrapping itself around his cock and giving little gentle squeezes, alternated with long, purposeful strokes.

Rodney came, body suddenly tense for what seemed like a long drawn out second, and then dropped to his knees, spent and muscles slack as burst elastic. He focused on his breathing, getting it back under control, only noticing the vine was pulling out when it stroked his ear on the way past his head.

Rodney tumbled onto his side, watching as it meandered back up to the branch and out of sight.

He lay there a long moment, before he was able to sit up and look at himself. Okay, he’d made a mess but it wasn’t overly visible on his pants. He grabbed a handful of dirt from the ground and rubbed it over his uniform, trying not to make it look too deliberate. It’d do.

That was when he heard it, his radio crackling, and Sheppard saying, “McKay? I know I said take cover, but I didn’t mean from us. Where are you, Rodney?”

*-*

Sheppard watched as Rodney stood a little stiffly, but with a faint grin on his face.

“You alright, McKay?”

Rodney nodded, a little distractedly. “Mmm. Yes, yes, fine. Like you said, only three hours.”

“Well, it was more like three and an half but it’s fixed now. Zelenka wants to tell you himself what happened but I think he’s worried you might kill him. Not that it’s his fault, just…you know.”

“Yes, colonel, because I am physics’ answer to Attila the Hun. Can we go now?”

Sheppard watched as Rodney glanced up again, eyes fixed on the first branch of the big tree they’d found him slumped against. He’d expected a bit of a different greeting than ‘Oh, there you are.” Something along the lines of what took you so long, you said three hours, do you know I could have been bitten or eaten or fell over something or gone into hypoglycaemic or anaphylactic shock or both and what caused it anyway, all blurred together like the words in a book someone had dropped in a puddle.

“I guess. You got everything?”

Rodney nodded. “Yes. Because of course I thought I was going to be here so long I might as well unpack. I have everything. Except…”

“What?”

Rodney seemed a little sheepish suddenly. “Do you have a power bar?”

Sheppard shrugged, not so surprised that Rodney had wolfed down his own supply in the three and a half hours he’d been stuck here. What would he have done if they’d been any longer though? Or if it had been necessary to turn the Daedalus about and come get him? He decided he was going to try and show Rodney some survival training again, even if last time he’d avoided the subject entirely, maintaining that learning to use the 9 mil and the P90 was enough for him.

He took out the two power bars from his vest and held them out. Rodney took the blueberry but made no move to unwrap it.

“You’re not going to eat it?” Sheppard queried.

“Do you mind if I savour the moment?”

“Rodney, we have plenty more back on Atlantis. This isn’t going to be your last ever, you know. How about we make a move?”

“Yes, yes.” McKay waved him ahead. “After you.”

Sheppard stared at him, a little worried. Maybe when they got back, Heightmeyer would speak to him: maybe it was post traumatic stress disorder or something. It was only three and a half hours, but it was also Rodney.

“’Kay,” Sheppard said, and headed out, his marines taking point.

Behind him, Rodney paused long enough to put the bar down by the tree and grin up at the branch, where a tiny green protuberance was waving down at him.

“See ya,” he whispered, and then hurried after Sheppard before the colonel could ask what was keeping him.