fullPairing: Beckett/McKay
Raiting: PG
Summary: Beckett lets Sheppard know just how pissed he is about the lemon.
Notes: Just a little tag, because I felt the whole lemon incident really had to be dealt with.
Warniungs: Spoilers for SG-1’s ‘The Pegasus Project’.
Disclaimer: In no way do I own anything mentioned, because life just isn't fair.
WC: 1,500
It was late in the night, or early in the morning (Sheppard wasn’t sure of which) when he finally returned to his quarters for a few well-deserved hours of sleep. He’d spent countless hours performing extremely tedious tasks and completely endless mounds of paperwork. He’d take care of Captain Moore, escorting the man for a short say in the brig after he’d attacked a nearby Captain Redding with a cafeteria tray. And he’d made several trips back and forth from the mainland, which he usually enjoyed, but instead found extremely monotonous. And then there had been the Wraith issue, where everyone on Atlantis had spent hours worrying over The Odyssey and her crew, fretful the message of the coming Wraith hadn’t been received.
Sheppard was beyond ready to collapse on his bed and relax until his shift the next morning at 0900. Yes, Atlantis willing, Sheppard had big plans for his bed and pillow.
When the door to his quarters hissed open quietly he was stunned to stillness. He raised a hand to brace his weary body against the doorframe and peered into the well-lit room. He spared a moment, wondering if he’d gotten the wrong room, and then spied his Johnny Cash poster, which sadly was the only personal item that had remained untouched.
“What’s going on?” Sheppard ground out, charging forward as fast as his legs would permit. He pinned Beckett with a deadly glad. “Explain.”
The medical doctor, ankle deep in socks and underwear, promptly ignored the Colonel. Eyebrows knitted together he dug at the bottom of the drawer, tongue edging past his lips. Beckett gave a sigh of unhappiness before he shoved the drawer back into its place and attacked the one beneath it.
“I said,” Sheppard snapped, “What’s going on? Just what the hell are you doing in my room?” He clamped a hand down on Beckett’s shoulder and spun him around.
“Did you think it was funny, Colonel?” Beckett’s normally warm eyes held an icy reception. Muscles tense, the doctor asked again, “Your way of being a comedian?” He wretched away from Sheppard, and returned to poking about in the man’s drawers.
Sheppard frowned. “What are you going on about?”
The Colonel turned from Beckett and surveyed the damage to his room. He noted distastefully that most of his dresser, his bedside table and his shelves were in disarray, with clothing, books, CDs and other personal objects littered about. The bed was nearly upturned, sheets and blankets and pillows tossed in different directions. And at the root of it all was Carson Beckett, murmuring to himself in Gaelic, with a stormy expression that Sheppard knew meant very bad things.
“Are you proud of?” Beckett continued, slamming a drawer closed. “Fancy yourself a humorist who benefits from causing his friends harm?”
Sheppard rolled his eyes. “If this is about the briefing,” he said, crossing his arms, “Come on, doc, you know how Rodney can get. Sometimes you have to reel him in a little bit. He and Colonel Carter could have been at it all day.”
“You haven’t a clue, have you? You don’t know what you’ve done. You don’t know the damage you’ve inflicted.”
Sheppard gaped at him.
Beckett sighed, his hands stilling. “Rodney can be a wee bit of a nuisance, Colonel. He takes a bit of extra care. And while what comes out of his mouth can be exaggerated, most of the time the words are not flat lies.”
“I’m sorry, doc,” Sheppard cut in, “But I’m lost. What are you going on about and what does it have to do with you tearing apart my room?”
“I’m looking for them, Colonel.”
Sheppard swallowed hard, now having an inkling of what the Scott was looking for.
“Don’t play daft with me. I’ve already gone to see Sergeant Masterfield. He has so kindly informed me you have in your possession three. Rodney tells me you’ve gifted one to Colonel Mitchell, and I want the other two now.”
“It was a joke!” Sheppard said, throwing his hands up.
Beckett jabbed a finger at his chest. “A deadly one, Colonel.”
Sheppard shrugged and replied, “It really was just a joke. I thought Rodney might get a kick out of it.” He knew the words were wrong in an instance.
“What a bloody fool you are then. Rodney is my friend, and I stand by while you make countless jokes at his expense frequently, but this goes far beyond anything I’d ever thought possible.” Beckett pushed his finger harder into Sheppard’s chest, actually moving the man backwards a bit. “Do you have an clue as to what a serious allergy is, Colonel? Rodney doesn’t have to actually ingest any of the citrus for there to be a severe reaction. He can’t even touch the skin of a lemon, which makes it frightfully dangerous to have any around him.”
Beckett breathed deeply, growing a little red in the face. He clenched a hand into a fist. He was hardly a violent man, but through the Colonel’s actions towards Rodney, he was feeling rather threatened. He wanted to impose the seriousness of the situation on the man.
Beckett continued, “You furthered your stupidity by sharing Rodney’s allergy with Colonel Mitchell.”
“I thought he should know, in case Rodney ate anything with citrus in it,” Sheppard protested.
“The man does not know us,” Beckett said. “He doesn’t know Rodney. He hasn’t a clue as to how far it’s okay to push the man, and when to back off. He doesn’t know about Rodney’s hypoglycemia, or just how relentless his allergies are, not to mention how to deal with his claustrophobia. The man is a stranger to you and I and Rodney, and before you endangered Rodney’s life, you ought to have realized that. Did you offer him an Epinephrine pen to go with that lemon, Colonel?”
Mouth in a tight line, Sheppard shook his head.
“Now I want to know where they are.”
Sheppard caught himself from stuttering, and replied, “I only had the one, honest.”
“Don’t you lie to me, lad. I told you I’d spoken to Sergeant Masterfield in the Mess. He told me he caught you stealing three the other day while he was fixing the morning meal. I want to know where the other two are, because frankly you can’t be trusted, and Rodney is just too damn valuable to us all.”
“No, Carson, really, I gave the other two back. I was kind of afraid if he found out I had lemons stashed in my room I wouldn’t wake up one morning.”
Beckett glared, sizing the man up for a moment. Finally he sighed and relented. “Alright, I believe you.” He gave the room a one over and headed towards the door. “Colonel,” he called over his shoulder, his voice dropping. “Stay away from Rodney for a while. I know you haven’t a mission for another week, so I want you to keep away. Neither he nor I am fond of you at the moment.”
“I’m sorry,” Sheppard called, looking slightly forlorn. “Tell him I said that, okay?”
Beckett nodded curtly, and then finished with, “I expect to see you in the Infirmary tomorrow, bright and early if you please.”
Sheppard gulped hard. “Why?” The Colonel swore he heard cackling.
There was definitely work to be done in the Infirmary, and even more Beckett had a craving for sleep, but instead his legs took down a familiar hall, and towards one particular door. Beckett offered a quiet thanks to Atlantis when the door slid open, despite a sleeping Astrophysicist across the room.
He settled himself on the edge of the bed and kicked his shoes off, toes digging into the carpet. The man on the bed began to fidget slightly, which caused a line of worry to appear on Beckett’s forehead. “It’s okay,” he said softly, hand reaching out to brush over McKay’s forehead. “You’ve nothing to worry about, love.”
Beckett sucked in a gasp of air, sliding his eyes shut. He still held a heavy pain in his heart from when he’d found McKay earlier that night. Beckett had hardly ever seen the scientist shake so badly, and surprisingly it had taken quite a bit of coaching to finagle the reason out. And he’d spent the next hour comforting his lover, reassuring the man who worried constantly that even though lemons and other citrus fruits were being brought over from Earth, there was absolutely no way he was letting the man ingest them. He hadn’t told Rodney he was going on a mission to track down Colonel Sheppard and Colonel Mitchell.
“Carson?” McKay mumbled, blinking up bleary eyes.
Beckett shushed him gently, stroking a hand down the man’s face. “Yes, love, it’s just me.” He worked to rid himself of his jacket and then stretched out along the bed. “Go back to sleep,” he said.
McKay nodded off without another word and Beckett smiled fondly. “No one will hurt you, especially not someone who’s supposed to be protecting you.” He threw an arm over McKay, pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek and drifted to sleep. Beckett prayed Sheppard had learned his lesson, as there was nothing else left to do. It would have to be enough.
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