It drove him absolutely nuts. Insane. Some days he’d spend hours on end thinking about it, and still he’d been unable to come up with any viable explanations for it. He, Rodney McKay, Doctor Rodney McKay, 2 Scientific PhDs and the smartest man in two galaxies had absolutely no explanation for that crazed mop of black angles that Sheppard referred to as his hair.
Recently, Rodney had just avoided looking at it at all cost, to the point that Sheppard had practically yelled at him in the last briefing for not paying enough attention to his overview. But that was near impossible now, considering the fact that he and Sheppard were within inches of one another inside a very small holding cell. Why the hell did I drink that foamy moonshine Remy offered…
“What?” Rodney snapped at Sheppard for interrupting his thoughts.
“You said Remy. It was Randolph.”
“Oh,” Rodney nodded, continuing not to look at Sheppard.
Apparently he wasn’t thinking as quietly or as mentally as he’d assumed. Oops. “So, Rodney…” Sheppard shifted towards the other side of the cell, “How ya doin?”
“Great,” Rodney looked around at the small cell which for all intensive purposes was a makeshift wooden cage, “just great considering I’m being held hostage on a highly radioactive planet by a race of technologically challenged farmers with weapons that are unnecessarily advanced for their civilization. Not to mention, being out of radio contact with everyone and sitting on a hard floor in a small cage. AND did I mention that I’m severely claustrophobic!”
“Well, on the bright side I’m here to keep you company!”
Sheppard grinned one of his annoyingly suave yet far too casual smiles that never failed to catch Rodney’s attention, and now—OH GREAT--now he was looking at Sheppard. Meaning, it was only a matter of seconds until his eyes were drawn to that infamous hair. Within nanoseconds, billions of equations began popping up around the wild tufts, none of which helped to explain that phenomenon that was this Sheppard hair. To top is all off, the voices of nearly every woman in Atlantis that he ever commented on the multiple pseudo-mohawks was ricocheting off the walls inside Rodney’s large brain.
“Rodney?” The rough and strangely calming timber of Sheppard’s voice pulled Rodney from the Alternate Hair Universe and back into Reality. Rodney refocused his eyes and forced a crooked smile in the Colonel’s direction.
“You okay Rodn--“ Sheppard stopped mid question with a loud yelp, “AAH, Jesus!”
“What? What!?” Rodney’s voice cracked and shot up 2 octaves in panic.
Scrambling away from the opposite side of the cage, John moved up next to Rodney’s feet. Frantically, Sheppard clutched at the hem of his shirt. Clearly struggling to get it up, Rodney’s hands grabbed at the fabric and helped John to remove the tee. Once it was thrown aside, Rodney saw why John had been so eager to get it off. Four large thorns were sticking out of Sheppard’s skin on his lower back with several smaller ones scattered along his spine.
“Here,” Rodney offered, placing a hand on Sheppard’s shoulder.
The hairs owner nodded and bit down on his lip awaiting the painful sensation. As delicately and as quickly as he could, Rodney withdrew each of the prickers. Apparently, Rodney had done quite a good job because the only time Sheppard made any noise was when Rodney took the largest thorn, which was lodged between two vertebrae, out.
“Thanks,” John groaned in appreciation.
“No, no, no,” Rodney’s hands waved in compassionate dismissal, “no problem.”
After a few moments, John gestured to Rodney, “Um, can I?”
How is that possible? John’s hair was sticking up in even more places, no doubt a direct product of removing his Oh my! John’s uh, John’s shirt is off. Rodney had an unusual mental pause. Of course it’s off, moron! You helped take it off before you had to pluck out those nasty neddles. And why do you care that it’s off!? It’s not like you haven’t seen him shirtless before.
John cleared his throat. “Oh, sorry uh,” Rodney glanced around the cage.
How was he going to do this? First, Rodney tried moving over so he was against the left wall, but when he realized that that wall was also covered in thorns he decided that might not be the best plan. Then, he tried balling his knees up which failed when he felt something pop in his back. Rodney’s face scrunched up in frustration and determination, causing a gut chuckle to emerge from John.
Rodney looked up into the quirked eyebrow face of amusement. John shook his head, “Just stay there.”
Rodney stayed perfectly still while John pressed himself up against Rodney’s chest. A smile spread across Rodney’s face, as he felt John’s head ret on his shoulder. Opening his mouth to say something, Rodney looked down and found himself face to face with the hair. Rodney bit his lip and curled his hands up to keep himself form touching. Not that he wanted to. No, no, no. Far from it! Rodney wanted to be as far away as possible from that mass of black chaos. But now that he was within millimeters from it…
Rodney was a scientist, and he liked to be able to explain and understand things and, if necessary, run multiple test and experiments on those things. So, it was only natural that Rodney would want to run his hands through the maddening locks. Right?
McKay WHAT are you doing!? Stop. Stop. Stop! You don’t go stroking the ranking military officer’s hair. You don’t go stroking your hands though ANYONE’S hair, for that matter!! So just, just stop!
Rodney tried desperately to tear his thought and eyes away from the rebellious hair, but he simply couldn’t. It’s like a black hole! No matter how hard one tried to escape the gravitational pull one couldn’t not without the help of ALL of Atlantis’s ZedPMs.
John must have looked at him while he was in the midst of his internal rant, because when Rodney came back from his thoughts those confounding hazel eyes were staring up at him
“Go ahead,” John said in that aggravatingly laidback tone of his.
“With?” Rodney asked, obliviously.
John’s eyebrows sky rocketed like they always did when he made his ‘Oh-Come-On-Rodney’ face, and he pointed to the top of his head.
“Oh,” Rodney’s stomach made an audible churn.
“Come on,” John smiled, “You know you want to.”
That smile. That damn smile. No wonder all of those alien priestesses were all over him. That smile would make even the straightest of body builders go “Awww”.
“Um,” Rodney’s eyes shifted nervously, “Are you…”
Rodney’s hands twitched as he brought them up slowly. John’s head dropped forward to give Rodney more access to the wildness, and he shut his lids lightly. Rodney’s blue eyes grew larger, pupils dilating in anticipation of finally getting a grasp on the unexplainable. Slowly, he brought his hands to the fuzzy ands and rubbed the strands between his fingertips. Then, without warning, he plunged into the irresistible black depths of hair. John let out a small moan, which Rodney wouldn’t have heard if he hadn’t been listening for something like it. Sifting his hands thought the shock of dark locks, Rodney noticed that the hair was not only anti-gravitational but also surprisingly soft.
Rodney was ruined.
He’d thought it was hard sitting through briefings before. Now! Now that he’d run one prelim test on the enigma that was John’s hair, there was no way he’d be able to look at Sheppard without coming up with equations & theories and experiments to run to test out those equations and theories.
As Rodney’s fingers continued to unconsciously thread through Sheppard’s hair, he groaned. I was right!
Sheppard hair indeed had the same properties of a black hole: strong gravitational field and pull, the illusion of black empty space and virtually un-“manipulatable”. The only difference was that while Sheppard’s hair remained a unsolvable, confounding mass to Rodney, Rodney actually understood the mechanics and workings of the black hole.
And lucky for Atlantis, the fate of the universe didn’t rest on Rodney’s knowledge and understanding of Sheppard hair.
Oh and if you don't know Sheppard hair, just look at my icon.
And a happy THANKSGIVING, you americans.