fic: The Lending Library (SGA, McKay/Sheppard, 1/1)

So. This is me, officially writing SGA slash, and posting it where people can see. I have not been this freaked out in a very, very long time, because a great many people have done this already, and most of them rock.

SGA, McKay/Sheppard. This is what happens when Certain People named mickeym stand outside
your house with a box full of bunnies, and one gets in your house.

The Lending Library
By Gale

SUMMARY: Naturally, when several hundred people moved to another galaxy, they brought porn.


Naturally, when several hundred people moved to another galaxy, they brought porn.

No one said anything, of course, but almost everyone brought *something* - videos, magazines, hastily compressed computer files. And even though no one said anything, everyone basically knew who had what. Hobbs in Botany, for example, had the market cornered on anything involving women (or men) in heels, and if you wanted people in fur suits or bukkake, you went to Lieutenant Williams.

It took them the better part of three months to start clearing rooms in earnest, and there were a handful that had served as either unused storage or unfurnished living quarters. And someone had an idea, and someone else thought *that* was a good idea and agreed to help, and over time, it just…grew.

Into the lending library.

It started off just an unmarked cardboard box in the middle of the room – and then it was two boxes, and three, and a couple of spare crates, and before anyone could really remember any kind of decision being made, there were shelves in there and things stacked neatly. Someone – no one ever admitted doing it, but the handwriting looked a lot like Laura Sewicky’s, from Linguistics – made signs for easier reference: Gay, Lesbian, Heterosexual, Transgender, Other. Other was divided into smaller subcategories, and the handwriting on *those* signs, while smaller and more cramped, matched the originals.

There were no guards posted, no black curtains, no signs of any kind on the outside. The door was never locked. Even if you never went down there yourself – or *admitted* to going down there, which was far more likely – you knew where it was. The rules were the same as they were back home: no eye contact, no acknowledgement of anyone you might know.

After two months, it was discovered – through private inquiries – that Certain People were taking things out and not returning them, so clearly the honor system wasn’t working. So, still unspoken, everyone switched over to the actual library system: sign up, get two weeks (three, if they were in the middle of a crisis, which was invariably), return it on-time.

They rotated who was “librarian” that week – who got to go around and casually ask for things to be returned; it wasn’t like anyone was in a position to impose fines, but usually the threat of public embarrassment was enough. And that worked most of the time, because once someone had had Dr. Heightmeyer come up to him in the cafeteria and casually ask if he was finished with Cumming Right Up, the video – or magazine, or whatever – would magically reappear in the library, and nothing more would be said.

Until the week Kavanaugh was in charge.

The announcement came at 1100 hours.

“Attention, all Atlantis residents,” came Kavanaugh’s voice over the intercom system. “Will the following people please return the items in question to the lending library as soon as possible. Sarah Morton, Bi-Tanic; Adrian Webber-Mott, Big Girls, Volume Seven; Radek Zelenka, Big Brown Bears--“

In the background, if you listened, you could hear the sound of hurried, booted footsteps. A couple of seconds later, what sounded like power tools being applied to something very large and heavy, presumably the doors.

“—Katherine Brown, Outward Bound and Gagged; Franklin War Kun, Catholic Schoolgirl Slumber Sorority Bash; John Sheppard, Outback and Bareback, Volume Fifteen--“

In the background: “Goddammit, Kavanaugh, I swear to Christ – how’s that door coming, Zelenka?”

“Slowly,” Zelenka called, just barely audible. If you were listening. Hard. “But I think – one moment more, yes—“

“—Rodney McKay, Ramon and Jeff’s Erotic Adventures, Volume Four; and last but certainly not least, Elizabeth Wei—“

There was a loud thumping noise, like something – or someone – crashing to the ground. The intercom cut out with a sharp squawk.

There was a long, awkward pause.

And then Major Sheppard’s voice came over the intercom, telling everyone to disregard the message they’d just heard – and he’d been using the Command Voice, the one almost no one ever heard outside of crisis situations, so everyone agreed it would be in their best interests to drop it. Fast.

Really, no one should have been surprised when just over two weeks later, a series of noises came over the intercom system. It was, unmistakably, the sounds of someone having a *very* good time – but just one person, from the timbre of the groans – underscored with classical music. Kavanaugh yelled about how he was being persecuted and how no one in the entire city could take a joke, but there wasn’t any actual proof as to who had done it. Sure, Grodin claimed he had seen Doctor McKay and Major Sheppard slap hands in the hallway just after it happened, but really, that could have been over anything.

Library use took a dip after that, but only for a while; and anyway, while people stayed away, the .avi and .mpeg trading took a sharp increase.

And then the Wraith came, and everything went to hell; and everything came *back* from hell, which was the more important part. But for a while there, trading in dirty movies and magazines wasn’t high on anyone’s list.

Then Dr. Weir and some of the senior staff announced they were going back to Earth to pick up supplies and new personnel.

*

“Hey,” John said, perching on the edge of Rodney’s lab table. It wasn’t as big as the one back in Atlantis, but hell, they were lucky the SGC had been able to allocate them any space at all. “So I had to go get some things, and I was wondering if you wanted to come with me.”

Rodney didn’t have to even look at him to raise an eyebrow at the suggestion. Even after a year, John had no idea how he could do that; he just sat there and silently appreciated it. “Get some things,” Rodney said, drawing the words out, making it sound utterly ridiculous. “We have everything we need, Major. Elizabeth already—“

”Not official supplies,” John said, pulling the list out of his pocket. No one had actually requested anything specific, but more than a few people had come up to him and quietly mentioned that, you know, this section or that needed…a better selection, maybe. “You know. Library supplies.”

“Then they should have gone through the proper channels, and—“ Rodney shut up and looked at him for a couple of seconds. Finally he said, “Library supplies.”

”Yeah.”

”Huh.” Now Rodney sounded thoughtful. He hit a few keys and leaned back in his chair, looking at John. “And you wanted to know if I’d come with you.”

”Library supplies are very important,” John said seriously. “It’s not the kind of thing you want to select without someone else’s input.”

Rodney looked at him a little longer, then said, “You know, you could take that a couple of ways.”

”You could,” John agreed, and didn’t say anything else. He held the list out. “You might want to look it over, see if we missed anything.”

Rodney took it out. John didn’t miss it when their fingers brushed.

“Looks all right,” Rodney said after a minute. He shrugged, trying so hard to be casual. “Of course, I should go with you. It’s a lot like grocery shopping. Half the time you don’t know what you want—“

”—‘til you’re looking at it,” John finished.

Rodney looked at him for a minute, then nodded and went to get out of his chair. “I’ll get my coat.”

John just smiled and climbed off the table, fishing his keys out of his pocket.