Bad Karma, Part 2 of 2
Aug. 11th, 2009 02:30 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wiseheartTitle: Bad Karma
Author: Soledad
Fandom: Stargate - Atlantis
Rating: Adult, but not so much that it would need to be friends-locked.
Genre: Angst, mostly. Some erotica.
Characters: Peter Grodin, Kavanagh, Bates' team in background, unnamed Genii thugs.
Pairings: Grodin/Kavanagh.
Spoilers: Mild ones for "Underground”.
Summary: Be careful what you ask for. You might get it.
Disclaimer: The characters and the settings don't belong to me. Just the insane story idea.
Author’s note:
Continued directly from Part 1
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Ten minutes later, the Genii guards were knocked out, unconscious, bound on their hands and feet with the rests of the rope the two scientists had managed to remove from themselves, and even gagged with pieces of rope, so that they wouldn’t be able to alert their peers. Kavanagh took their weapons, handling the mean-looking things with an expertise that impressed and frightened Grodin at the same time. This was the man people considered a jerk and a coward? Right now, Kavanagh seemed competent, level-headed and determined to save their asses, no matter the cost.
At the moment, Grodin actually believed that he would be able to do so. And wondered whether the other man was truly such a jerk as McKay and many others assumed. Whether Dr. Weir hadn’t been unjust to him. After all, when had Kavanagh considered anything else but the safety of Atlantis? Had it been really such a cowardly thing to say that risking the entire expedition for just six people is an irresponsible decision? Or had they all bought into the typically military mindset that wouldn’t hesitate to kill dozens of people just to bring out someone’s dead body from a war zone?
In any case, right in this moment, Kavanagh seemed to know very well what he was doing. The whole luring the Genii guards in a trap and pulling them out of circulation had been done with extreme efficiency and detailed accuracy. Just as the man always worked in his lab. Who’d have thought that the same unnerving pedantry would work so well on off-world missions?
Well, some people back at SGC obviously did. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have sent Kavanagh out with an SG-team on a semi-regular basis. Wouldn’t have nominated him for the Atlantis expedition, no matter how good a scientist he might be. And Kavanagh was a damn good scientist, Grodin knew that. He’d read the man’s thesis, and it had been nothing short brilliant. Besides, Kavanagh was their resident expert with liquid naquadah, having studied the stuff more than a year; only Zelenka had a similar understanding about jumper propulsion systems.
If Grodin thought about it, it was a criminal waste to let the man stuck with sewer maintenance. Sure, he was an engineer and thus qualified for the work, but honestly, any first-class technician could have done the job. Kavanagh’s knowledge could have been so much better used in really important research work – or on off-world missions.
Grodin made a mental note to bring up the topic at the next staff meeting. McKay would be furious, and Dr. Weir wouldn’t like it a bit, but that didn’t really bother Grodin. They simply couldn’t waste the man any longer, just because two of the senior staff had problems with his attitude. Besides, McKay’s attitude wasn’t a bit better.
“Are you coming or staying?” the object of his musing hissed at him; Kavanagh was peering out through the half-open cell door. “There’s nobody nearby right now. If wanna get away, we need to do this now!”
Grodin shook off his thoughts and followed the other man into the dark floor. Kavanagh pulled a torch from his other boot – just how many pieces of equipment had the man hidden in his footwear? – and tried to get his bearings.
“Close the door,” he whispered,” the key is still in the lock. Let them think we’re still inside, just the guards are somewhere else. Damn, I wish we had a lifesign detector with us…”
“You’d need the ATA gene to that,” Grodin pointed out. Kavanagh shrugged.
“Not really, since I have you. Well, the only way is down this corridor, so I guess we have no choice. Do you know how to use that weapon?”
Grodin shook his head, and Kavanagh murmured something about geeks, which was funny, considering that he was one of them, too – but a very different sort of geek, it seemed. One that had more than just attitude as a means of defence.
“Look,” he showed the other man the most important moves, “this is where you secure the rifle. And this is where you shoot. Just try to arm at someone else when you do it. I’m not planning a heroic death yet.”
Grodin nodded, still doubting that he would really be able to shoot at someone – anyone – with the weapon, although he had to admit that Kavanagh had been right. With the help of the torch that was only good enough to make the darkness seem even darker, they carefully began to move down the corridor. There were no other corridors opening either on the left or on the right as far as they could se… which, frankly, wasn’t very far. After about eight or ten metres on their right, they came upon a wooden door. It had no handle or knob, and they couldn’t tell if it was closed or not.
“Should we give it a try?” Grodin whispered. Kavanagh shook his head; a gesture totally wasted in the near complete darkness.
“Even if it’s open, it may squeak and alert someone,” he said.
“And that’s a problem – why exactly?” Grodin riposted, his nerves frayed beyond help. “Weren’t we supposed to shoot them at first sight?”
“As the last solution, yes,” Kavanagh replied. “But we can’t know how many of them are there; and besides, they would have weapons, too. Let’s try to get out of here before anyone decides to look after us, shall we?”
But they were too late already. A dim light appeared at the far end of the corridor, giving them a first estimate of its actual length. The faint noise of at least three or four men talking came from the same direction.
“That’s it!” Grodin hissed, tossing the door open with his shoulder; it squeaked a bit but not too loudly, not loudly enough for the Genii to hear in any case. They stumbled into whatever room was hidden behind it, pushing the door closed in a great hurry.
“Down!” Kavanagh ordered in a harsh whisper. Armed or not, he was not about to start a gunfight with alien soldiers that were probably a lot better with weapons than he could ever hope. “Stay on the other side of the door, so that they won’t see you if they stick in a lamp!”
Only an idiot would ignore the suggestion of someone who was the closest thing to a survival expert present. Grodin was not an idiot, no matter what Rodney McKay thought. He rolled away from the way of the door obediently, and Kavanagh followed suit, without waiting a moment. The rough cave wall stopped Grodin’s roll rather ungently, and Kavanagh, not being able to stop his momentum in time, ended up on top of him, pressing against him in the dark from head to toe – painfully aware of Grodin’s erection and unable to hide his own.
The voices came closer, and neither of the two men dared to move – at least to move away from each other. But all that previous tension, fear and anger suddenly broke Kavanagh resistance, and he gave in to the primal urge to rub himself against the other man like a cat in the heat, muffling his own desperate groans in the sweaty curve of Grodin’s neck.
Grodin didn’t seem to mind it, though. On the contrary, he grabbed Kavanagh’s ass with both hands, pushing him harder against his own body, desperately seeking a way to ease his own tension. They humped against each other like rutting animals, without finesse, without consideration for the other – this was something they both wanted, both needed on a level neither of them would admit under normal circumstances.
But these were not normal circumstances; there hadn’t been anything normal since Major Sheppard woke up the Wraith, and right now, they were in mortal danger again, probably on their way to getting recaptured and tortured and killed, and in this surreal moment they just didn’t care. They needed this last human touch before everything went to hell, this time perhaps beyond repair.
Kavanagh broke first, and when Grodin felt the warm wetness through both their clothes, he couldn’t hold back, either. There they lay, pressed against each other in the sticky darkness, with trembling limbs and laboured breaths, and they didn’t even realize that the screaming and shouting outside their dark little chamber meant that Bates’ unit had finally come to their rescue, and that they were not to be killed, after all.
Not this time, in any case.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
When all was over and they were safely back to Atlantis, Grodin wrote a carefully edited report about how Kavanagh had saved them both, due to his previous experience with SG-13. The report got ignored, of course, as nobody from Atlantis’ leaders would be willing to admit that they were wrong about the man, at least in some areas.
Kavanagh accepted the outcome with a shrug. He’d never expected anything from Weir and her sycophants. At least he and Grodin had become tentative friends, and working together on various projects was easy and inspiring from that time on.
They never spoke about what had happened in that dark little corner of the Genii outpost. It would have been too embarrassing, for both of them. Kavanagh hoped that one day they would be able to consider it with the necessary detachment – and perhaps build something on the basics that had been laid out of desperation.
When Grodin sacrificed himself during the siege, Kavanagh decided to return to Earth. There was nothing to keep him on Atlantis anymore
~The End~
Author: Soledad
Fandom: Stargate - Atlantis
Rating: Adult, but not so much that it would need to be friends-locked.
Genre: Angst, mostly. Some erotica.
Characters: Peter Grodin, Kavanagh, Bates' team in background, unnamed Genii thugs.
Pairings: Grodin/Kavanagh.
Spoilers: Mild ones for "Underground”.
Summary: Be careful what you ask for. You might get it.
Disclaimer: The characters and the settings don't belong to me. Just the insane story idea.
Author’s note:
Continued directly from Part 1
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Ten minutes later, the Genii guards were knocked out, unconscious, bound on their hands and feet with the rests of the rope the two scientists had managed to remove from themselves, and even gagged with pieces of rope, so that they wouldn’t be able to alert their peers. Kavanagh took their weapons, handling the mean-looking things with an expertise that impressed and frightened Grodin at the same time. This was the man people considered a jerk and a coward? Right now, Kavanagh seemed competent, level-headed and determined to save their asses, no matter the cost.
At the moment, Grodin actually believed that he would be able to do so. And wondered whether the other man was truly such a jerk as McKay and many others assumed. Whether Dr. Weir hadn’t been unjust to him. After all, when had Kavanagh considered anything else but the safety of Atlantis? Had it been really such a cowardly thing to say that risking the entire expedition for just six people is an irresponsible decision? Or had they all bought into the typically military mindset that wouldn’t hesitate to kill dozens of people just to bring out someone’s dead body from a war zone?
In any case, right in this moment, Kavanagh seemed to know very well what he was doing. The whole luring the Genii guards in a trap and pulling them out of circulation had been done with extreme efficiency and detailed accuracy. Just as the man always worked in his lab. Who’d have thought that the same unnerving pedantry would work so well on off-world missions?
Well, some people back at SGC obviously did. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have sent Kavanagh out with an SG-team on a semi-regular basis. Wouldn’t have nominated him for the Atlantis expedition, no matter how good a scientist he might be. And Kavanagh was a damn good scientist, Grodin knew that. He’d read the man’s thesis, and it had been nothing short brilliant. Besides, Kavanagh was their resident expert with liquid naquadah, having studied the stuff more than a year; only Zelenka had a similar understanding about jumper propulsion systems.
If Grodin thought about it, it was a criminal waste to let the man stuck with sewer maintenance. Sure, he was an engineer and thus qualified for the work, but honestly, any first-class technician could have done the job. Kavanagh’s knowledge could have been so much better used in really important research work – or on off-world missions.
Grodin made a mental note to bring up the topic at the next staff meeting. McKay would be furious, and Dr. Weir wouldn’t like it a bit, but that didn’t really bother Grodin. They simply couldn’t waste the man any longer, just because two of the senior staff had problems with his attitude. Besides, McKay’s attitude wasn’t a bit better.
“Are you coming or staying?” the object of his musing hissed at him; Kavanagh was peering out through the half-open cell door. “There’s nobody nearby right now. If wanna get away, we need to do this now!”
Grodin shook off his thoughts and followed the other man into the dark floor. Kavanagh pulled a torch from his other boot – just how many pieces of equipment had the man hidden in his footwear? – and tried to get his bearings.
“Close the door,” he whispered,” the key is still in the lock. Let them think we’re still inside, just the guards are somewhere else. Damn, I wish we had a lifesign detector with us…”
“You’d need the ATA gene to that,” Grodin pointed out. Kavanagh shrugged.
“Not really, since I have you. Well, the only way is down this corridor, so I guess we have no choice. Do you know how to use that weapon?”
Grodin shook his head, and Kavanagh murmured something about geeks, which was funny, considering that he was one of them, too – but a very different sort of geek, it seemed. One that had more than just attitude as a means of defence.
“Look,” he showed the other man the most important moves, “this is where you secure the rifle. And this is where you shoot. Just try to arm at someone else when you do it. I’m not planning a heroic death yet.”
Grodin nodded, still doubting that he would really be able to shoot at someone – anyone – with the weapon, although he had to admit that Kavanagh had been right. With the help of the torch that was only good enough to make the darkness seem even darker, they carefully began to move down the corridor. There were no other corridors opening either on the left or on the right as far as they could se… which, frankly, wasn’t very far. After about eight or ten metres on their right, they came upon a wooden door. It had no handle or knob, and they couldn’t tell if it was closed or not.
“Should we give it a try?” Grodin whispered. Kavanagh shook his head; a gesture totally wasted in the near complete darkness.
“Even if it’s open, it may squeak and alert someone,” he said.
“And that’s a problem – why exactly?” Grodin riposted, his nerves frayed beyond help. “Weren’t we supposed to shoot them at first sight?”
“As the last solution, yes,” Kavanagh replied. “But we can’t know how many of them are there; and besides, they would have weapons, too. Let’s try to get out of here before anyone decides to look after us, shall we?”
But they were too late already. A dim light appeared at the far end of the corridor, giving them a first estimate of its actual length. The faint noise of at least three or four men talking came from the same direction.
“That’s it!” Grodin hissed, tossing the door open with his shoulder; it squeaked a bit but not too loudly, not loudly enough for the Genii to hear in any case. They stumbled into whatever room was hidden behind it, pushing the door closed in a great hurry.
“Down!” Kavanagh ordered in a harsh whisper. Armed or not, he was not about to start a gunfight with alien soldiers that were probably a lot better with weapons than he could ever hope. “Stay on the other side of the door, so that they won’t see you if they stick in a lamp!”
Only an idiot would ignore the suggestion of someone who was the closest thing to a survival expert present. Grodin was not an idiot, no matter what Rodney McKay thought. He rolled away from the way of the door obediently, and Kavanagh followed suit, without waiting a moment. The rough cave wall stopped Grodin’s roll rather ungently, and Kavanagh, not being able to stop his momentum in time, ended up on top of him, pressing against him in the dark from head to toe – painfully aware of Grodin’s erection and unable to hide his own.
The voices came closer, and neither of the two men dared to move – at least to move away from each other. But all that previous tension, fear and anger suddenly broke Kavanagh resistance, and he gave in to the primal urge to rub himself against the other man like a cat in the heat, muffling his own desperate groans in the sweaty curve of Grodin’s neck.
Grodin didn’t seem to mind it, though. On the contrary, he grabbed Kavanagh’s ass with both hands, pushing him harder against his own body, desperately seeking a way to ease his own tension. They humped against each other like rutting animals, without finesse, without consideration for the other – this was something they both wanted, both needed on a level neither of them would admit under normal circumstances.
But these were not normal circumstances; there hadn’t been anything normal since Major Sheppard woke up the Wraith, and right now, they were in mortal danger again, probably on their way to getting recaptured and tortured and killed, and in this surreal moment they just didn’t care. They needed this last human touch before everything went to hell, this time perhaps beyond repair.
Kavanagh broke first, and when Grodin felt the warm wetness through both their clothes, he couldn’t hold back, either. There they lay, pressed against each other in the sticky darkness, with trembling limbs and laboured breaths, and they didn’t even realize that the screaming and shouting outside their dark little chamber meant that Bates’ unit had finally come to their rescue, and that they were not to be killed, after all.
Not this time, in any case.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
When all was over and they were safely back to Atlantis, Grodin wrote a carefully edited report about how Kavanagh had saved them both, due to his previous experience with SG-13. The report got ignored, of course, as nobody from Atlantis’ leaders would be willing to admit that they were wrong about the man, at least in some areas.
Kavanagh accepted the outcome with a shrug. He’d never expected anything from Weir and her sycophants. At least he and Grodin had become tentative friends, and working together on various projects was easy and inspiring from that time on.
They never spoke about what had happened in that dark little corner of the Genii outpost. It would have been too embarrassing, for both of them. Kavanagh hoped that one day they would be able to consider it with the necessary detachment – and perhaps build something on the basics that had been laid out of desperation.
When Grodin sacrificed himself during the siege, Kavanagh decided to return to Earth. There was nothing to keep him on Atlantis anymore
~The End~
