Title: Skid
Rating: G
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Summary: Oops.


John walks backward, gesturing with the nose of his P90 for Ronon and Teyla to check the barn of a nearby house. As far as he can tell, the Travelers scavenged everything worth having after the Wraith culled the place, but it doesn’t hurt to look. He notes the small square of yellow grass bordered by dark green outside the town hall and guesses it held a generator or maybe an air conditioner. The planet’s hot enough for the latter. Why not?

He starts to ask Rodney about summer in Siberia when his heel catches a tree root, so he stumbles back a couple of steps a moment before the toe of Rodney’s boot hooks the same spot. Rodney plunges shoulder first into John like a nose guard’s sack of a quarterback at snap. John uses reflexes and training to slap the ground with forearms to break his fall, but then Rodney follows him down, a blur of fingers, palms and arms skidding on dirt and pebbles to either side of him.

The fall becomes strange with an impossible Rodney mouth-plant to John’s parted lips. Rodney’s momentum forces John into the skid, so the contact goes on long enough -- heads jostled so lips move against each other and both men panting a bit with adrenaline -- to make this otherwise-accident an actual kiss. His lips will bruise since their mouths bump more than slide, but they don’t part long enough to make it anything else.

With John flat on his back, big body pressing him into dirt, mouths locked together, frozen, both men too stunned or embarrassed or both to move, John becomes self-conscious, notices Rodney breathing into his mouth. They close them, continuing this bizarre kiss that just. won’t. end.

Rodney pulls back at the same time John decides to lever up onto palms, and the kiss he figured he’d stop by shear momentum and a sudden slip to the left goes on as John follows Rodney up, heads moved to a complementary angle and mouths into a slide. Rodney smacks his lips as John swallows, so John feels the sandpaper scratch of his chin to Rodney’s evening stubble. He catches a whiff of aftershave.

Rodney mumbles something against John’s lips, but he can only blink, and ask, “Hmm? What?” He doesn’t want to notice how good it feels to speak against each others’ mouths, or to notice the way he wants to push his nose closer to his friend’s face.
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