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Summary: No seriously, five headlines that have absolutely nothing to do with Ronon Dex and John Sheppard having sex.

Categories: Bitextual, Ship Pairings > McKay/Teyla Emmagan, Slash Pairings > Ronon Dex/Sheppard
Characters: John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, Ronon Dex, Teyla Emmagan
Genres: AU - Alternate Universe, Humour
Warnings: None
Chapters: 1 [Table of Contents]
Series: None

Word count: 4434; Completed: Yes
Updated: 19 Feb 2011; Published: 08 Feb 2011

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Author's Chapter Notes:
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Alex bribed me to tidy this up and stop it cluttering up my hard drive. It was a challenge a long time ago which I didn't complete in time and have forgotten where it came from. Sorry challenge people. In case anyone recognizes it, this was challenge.

Ronon's a star NBA player and John's the hustler he picks up in a club one night. Ronon's agent, Rodney, throws a fit and insists that Ronon date pop star Teyla because "basketball isn't ice skating and anyway America really doesn't like queer sports stars." Wacky hijinks ensue when Rodney falls for Teyla, and Ronon and John prove to be terrible at being discreet. Feel free to go to the OT4 place or to keep it Ronon/John and Rodney/Teyla.


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Five headlines which Rodney McKay wishes to assure you have absolutely nothing to do with Ronon Dex and John Sheppard having sex.


1. RELIGHT MY FIRE – LAURA CADMAN REKINDLES HER SCOTTISH FLAME


Rodney was waving the gossip rag with its blaring headline as he stormed through the plush mansion and slammed back the bedroom door.

"Look at this!" he shrieked at the top of his not inconsiderable lungs.

The lump under the bedcovers moaned and sat up.

"Fuck McKay," said Ronon Dex, NBA All-Star for three years running. "Isn't there something in my contract about not being woken before sunrise?"

"Not in the case of an emergency, and this definitely qualifies."

"Well you're my agent, put in a new clause, effective yesterday."

"Oh yes very funny. I don't have time to trade what passes for wit with you. Read this!" Rodney shoved the paper under his nose. Ronon batted it away. Rodney shoved it back impatiently. Ronon sighed, sat up in bed and accepted the paper. Squinting distrustfully he read out,

"Relight my fire, Laura Cadman... And this is relevant to me how?"

"Because it does not read, Dex Sex Shocker. Which it would if the one who papped you with the roughest of rough trade leaving a pickup joint so sleazy you'd need a hazmat suit to get me through the door, wasn't Lorne. He, thank the gods who watch over moronic basketball players, has some weird scruples about papping while he's cruising and agreed to sell me the shots to me for less half of what he'd make from the syndication rights. Of course he's kept the negatives, so screw up again, and you'll be toast."

"Scruples?" rumbled Ronon.

"So not the point I'm making. And Jesus Ronon, what were you thinking? It's not even as if he was that good-looking. I mean honestly, that's what turns you on, a toothpick with stupid hair?"

"Hey," slurred a voice from deep under the covers. "Don't diss the hair."

"Oh my god," howled Rodney, appalled. "He's still here."

The bed clothes twisted and rumpled as someone fought their way free. The hair was even more shocking in reality and was attached to a face that Rodney had to grudgingly admit was sort of handsome if you liked that kind of thing. (Which, just for the record he definitely did not. Not that there was anything wrong with that kind of thing, except when it involved Rodney's clients and a photographic record.)

"Hiya," said the hustler grinning stupidly. "Are you the maid service?"

"Maid service?" stuttered Rodney incredulously. Ronon snorted.

"Oh good. I take my coffee strong and black, like my men," he leered exaggeratedly at Ronon, then yelped as Ronon did something under the covers in retaliation that Rodney so did not want to think about.

"You know," the hustler added, as he squirmed away from Ronon's roaming hands, "letting your mouth hang open like that is really not a good look for you."

Rodney closed his jaw with a snap.

"Coffee," prompted the hustler.

Ronon threw back his head and laughed out loud, which was so unlike his stoic, taciturn client that Rodney jumped.

"John, stop teasing McKay." He flung an affectionate arm around the hustler's shoulders. "He's pretty decent for an agent, I don't want to lose him to heart failure."

"I –" One large hand slapped over the smirking mouth.

"Great, thank you," said Rodney, and he now had a name for the bed-headed disaster, though really could you get any more generic than John? "Now all we need to do is get him out of here. Come along." He grabbed one scrawny arm and hauled him free from Ronon's grip.

"Hey," squawked John. "Clothes."

Rodney jumped back, flushing bright red. Glancing around the room he spotted Ronon's outsize clothes tangled in with ripped jeans, black t-shirt and leather jacket.

"You don't pay me enough for this," he hissed at Ronon as he picked up the foreign items with the tips of his fingers. "Eww, eww, eww, remind me to ring Carson and make sure my shots up to date."

He dumped the clothes on the bed and folded his arms.

"Well."

"You want a look at the goods, it'll cost you," the hustler pouted sulkily.

Rodney, his feelings too much for words, shrieked like an expiring steam engine. "No, no, no. Are you deluded? I do not want to look at you. I do not want to know you. I do not want to see anything other than your very skinny ass leaving out the back door."

"One of my better angles," preened John.

Ronon laughed again.

Rodney stamped his foot. "You, stop encouraging him. We, and by we I mean you, need him out of here, yesterday."

The hustler finally stretched out one hairy arm for his clothes. Unfortunately Ronon looped both his arms around John's waist and hauled him back until he was practically sitting in his lap.

"Where do you think you're going?" he rumbled into one rakishly pointed ear.

"I, uh, oooh." John did a disturbing little shimmy and Rodney clapped his hands over his eyes.

"Not looking, not looking. Godamnit Ronon we have got to get him out of here."

"Too late to worry about it now."

Rodney could hear the shrug in his voice and ground his teeth.

"Stop thinking with your dick and listen to me. If you weren't luckier than you deserve today's headlines would not be featuring the romantic life of a fire-eating trapeze artist but would be detailing your sudden suspension."

"Didn't happen," said Ronon.

Rodney flung his arms in the air with exasperation. Ronon was laidback to the point of being horizontal, which was something he usually appreciated in a client but right now it was a definite liability.

"Look Dex, this is what you pay me for..."

"What, to watch him while he has sex? Damn Ronon, you're kinkier than I thought." There was a worrying amount of admiration in the hustler's voice. "Seeing as you're there and all, be a friend and pass us the lube."

Rodney forgot to be careful and looked down to fix his most impressive glare at the hustler. For once his usually reliable glare missed its mark, he wasn't sure the hustler even registered it. His attention was focused inwards and his face was slack-jawed with sex.

Averting his gaze, Rodney, for possibly the first time in his life, gave up and beat a strategic retreat.


2. SURFING LESSONS FOR BASKETBALL ACE

Ronon Dex has been taking surfing lessons with a mystery teacher. Dex was seen with a dark-haired companion choosing a board. Later the pair took to the beach and were seen enjoying themselves.


Rodney had considered ringing the doorbell to be something other people did, but he'd decided that in this particular instance he'd make an exception and go for discretion. Of course after a moment of waiting impatiently for the door to open he remembered why he never rang doorbells. Holding his thumb down on the bell he muttered under his breath,

"Come on, come on. Some of us have actual work to do."

He could hear someone shouting inside the house but couldn't make out the words. He kept his thumb on the bell regardless.

The door was flung open.

"All right! I'm here." It was John the hustler, in jean cut-offs and bare feet, pulling on a faded black t-shirt. As his head popped free, hair just as wild as before, his eyes widened.

"Jesus McKay. I should have guessed it was you."

"What the hell are you answering the door for?"

John rolled his eyes. "If someone hadn't been leaning on the doorbell, I daresay Ronon would have had time to grab a robe, come downstairs and open the door himself. As it was I decided to save wear and tear on my eardrums."

"Fine, fine, now let me in. I have a surprise to announce." Rodney rubbed his hands together with glee.

"For some reason I'm suddenly terrified."

"John?" Ronon appeared at the top of the stairs dressed in a bathrobe, wringing his hair with a towel. "Who was...? Oh, hey Rodney. What are you doing here?"

"He has a surprise to announce," said John in doom-ladened tones. Ronon stopped halfway down the stairs,

"Want to run away from home with me?"

"Anytime."

"Oh shut up," barked Rodney. "This is a great surprise, brilliant in fact. Practical and decorative. I just wish someone would surprise me like this."

"That's it," said Ronon, "come on John, if we hit the road immediately we can be in Mexico by tomorrow."

"No, no, no," said Rodney. "You wouldn't believe the favors I had to call in from Elizabeth for this. You will appreciate it. Now get upstairs and get dressed. Preferably in something smart."

"Sir, yes sir." John snapped out a mocking salute.

"You don't need to bother. I'm just glad to see you looking less like a rent boy."

"McKay," said Ronon and there was a warning in his voice.

"What?" asked Rodney puzzled before deciding it didn't matter in face of the sheer brilliance of his plan. "You," he jabbed his finger towards Ronon, "upstairs and get dressed. You," his face screwed up as he surveyed John, this so wasn't the image he was trying to project. "Sit down and keep quiet. And if you can't manage that, for pity's sake at least turn your sarcasm down a notch or six."

John, who'd been looking rather thunderous, snorted with laughter.

"You're a real piece of work McKay." He moved through to the longue and flopped down onto a couch.

"What are you staring at?" Rodney demanded of Ronon. "Upstairs, dressed, smartly, chop-chop." He started up the stairs after him.

"Uh Rodney," John called, "Ronon can actually dress himself you know."

Reluctantly Rodney joined him in the longue. He huffed as he collapsed into one of the armchairs. "Given some my clients, I'm allowed to be nervous."

"They're really that bad?"

"Some of them. Ronon's actually one of the better ones, even given," he gestured wildly with his hands try to encompass John and the entire situation, "so I'm not going to let him destroy his career over a – a – a skinny-assed twink."

John almost fell off the couch laughing, which was not the reaction Rodney had been expecting.

"What?" he demanded grumpily.

"Thanks for the compliment McKay, but I'm not going to see thirty again, let alone twenty. Still, I'm glad I'm making such an impression on you."

He rolled off the couch onto his knees and shuffled over until he knelt at Rodney's feet, one hand resting on the arm of the chair and fluttered his eyelashes winsomely. Rodney would have been considerably more freaked out if he wasn't positive John was just messing with him. He'd have liked to call his bluff but was sadly sure he would be far less comfortable than John with carrying the joke further.

Ronon appeared in the doorway. Rodney suddenly realized how the scene must appear and decided he'd freak out after all. Blushing hotly, he mumbled.

"So not what it looks like."

Ronon just sighed. "John, stop hitting on the straight guy. You know how it agitates them."

"Aww," he whined, pouting ridiculously. Rising to his feet, he moved over to tug at Ronon's arm like an impatient six year old. "But he complimented me and everything."

Ronon raised one eyebrow.

"Called me a twink," John revealed proudly.

Ronon's lips twitched. "Somehow, I don't he meant it as a compliment."

John let his face fall into utter dejection. Ronon smiled.

"It's alright. I still love you."

"That's okay then." John wriggled into Ronon's arms for a kiss.

"Could you two please stop doing that when I'm in the room," complained Rodney.

"What?" said Ronon, appearing genuinely puzzled even as one big hand repetitively stroked down John's back like he was petting an overgrown cat.

"Oh never mind, just sit down. And, fuck Ronon, on what planet are those clothes smart?"

"They're clean," said Ronon glancing down at his khakis and t-shirt.

"See and I thought you were brighter than the average jock. Clean does not equal smart. I was thinking suit and tie, maybe that purple one you wore to that awards ceremony."

Unfortunately Ronon didn't get the subtle hint to go and change. He sat down, on the couch with John cuddled up beside him. Rodney let his head fall back and stared up at the ceiling. This was going to be a disaster.

The doorbell rang and he jumped to his feet.

"I'll get it."

Neither Ronon nor John showed any interest in their visitor's arrival. He glared suspiciously at them,

"You just better be decent when I come back."

"Thought you'd decided I was pretty much indecent full stop," said John.

"Well yes," admitted Rodney, "but one can always hope." With one last anxious glance behind him, he hurried to answer the door. He crossed his fingers and then uncrossed because he was not melodramatically superstitious and he most definitely had not picked up the habit from Ronon. Checking his reflection in the mirror, he adjusted his shirt cuffs and straightened his tie. Then, putting on his most business-like expression, he opened the door.

"Elizabeth, how lovely to see you again." He smiled determinedly at the razor thin publicity agent who was as sharp as her stiletto heels.

"Likewise," said Elizabeth Weir, gifting him with two butterfly kisses about an inch from each cheek. Rodney leaned back, resisting the urge to check he wasn't missing anything, like his wallet, say, or a couple of fingers. There wasn't anybody in the whole of LA with an unkind word to say about Elizabeth, they were all far, far too terrified.

"And," she continued, "have you met my latest treasure, Teyla. Teyla this is Rodney McKay, who works so hard keeping all his sports stars' boyish escapades out of the papers. Rodney, this is Teyla Emmagan, who will soon become too famous to associate with the likes of us."

"Miss Emmagan, I'm delighted to meet you." He beamed at the beautiful singer. "You're the one high spot on the latest album of nonsense from Whatshisname, the one with all the tattoos and enough gold chains to choke a horse; you wouldn't believe how many of my clients inflict his rubbish on me."

"Ahh Rodney," said Elizabeth, "I see you've lost none of your ability to charm."

"Huh?" said Rodney confused by the sarcasm dripping from her words.

"No Elizabeth," said Teyla smiling directly at him. "A true compliment is always to be cherished."

Rodney puffed out his chest with delight. "Come in, come in," he urged. He ushered them into the house. "Just along the corridor and on the left. Wait, why are we stopping?" Edging past the suddenly stationary women into the room, Rodney stared.

John had lost his t-shirt and he straddled Ronon's lap, hands in his hair, Ronon's hands were down the back of John's undone cut-offs. They were kissing messily as John rocked against Ronon with steadily increasing intent.

There was a moment of stunned silence, and then Elizabeth smiled wickedly and said,

"My yes Rodney, I'd say you have a problem."

Rodney's head dropped forwards and his chin thunked against his chest. Ronon and John kept on kissing. Teyla giggled.

"Perhaps we should leave them alone."

"No, no, no," snapped Rodney, straightening his shoulders. He had convinced 'Drill Sergeant' Bates to allow one of his clients to skip early morning practices; he was not going to be defeated by a hustler with stupid hair and a smirk.

"Stop that right now," he ordered, striding over and yanking at John's shoulder. John jumped and twisted away, hissing like a startled cat.

"Very nice," leered Elizabeth, resting one arm of her sunglasses against her dark red lips. "But not worth the price."

John sprawled backwards displaying himself immodestly. "Lady, you shouldn't knock it 'til you've tried it."

Ronon growled, pulling John upright and turning his body to block Elizabeth's view. Rodney snatched up the black t-shirt on the floor and tossed it to him. Ronon helped John into as John muttered,

"I'm not a child you know."

Ronon laughed and whispered something that made him blush, before turning to Rodney.

"So McKay," he said conversationally. "Who are these people and why are they in my house?"

"This is Elizabeth Weir and Teyla Emmagan and they are your salvation."

"Oh God," moaned John. "Not Jehovah's Witnesses at this time in the morning."

Rodney thwacked him on the shoulder. "Shut up you, this doesn't concern you. Ronon listen to me here, basketball is not figure skating and anyway America really doesn't like queer sports stars."

"Only because it doesn't know how many it's got," grumped Ronon.

"And again, you're completely missing the point. So, Teyla." He flung his arm outwards the singer, whose nose was twitching in an extremely cute way that suggested an imminent giggle-fit.

"Teyla's a gay sports star!" gasped John, raising one hand to his mouth in exaggerated shock.

"No." Rodney stamped his foot. He had an extremely brilliant plan and John was going to ruin it. Thankfully this time Ronon intervened, cuffing John gently over the back of the head.

"Sorry," said John to Teyla.

"That's okay," she said, sitting down on the couch beside the two men. "We came storming in here and interrupted you. Anybody would be a little put out. I'm sorry I didn't catch your name?"

"John," said John, "John Sheppard."

"It's nice to meet you John. Can I assume Mr McKay,"

"Please, call me Rodney," gushed Rodney.

"Rodney," said Teyla with a quick smile at him, "hasn't told you why we're here?"

"Oh please," said Rodney, "it's such a stupendous plan it shouldn't need explaining."

"It's a stupid plan," sulked John.

"It is not."

"Is."

"Not."

"Is too."

Ronon coughed, loudly, "Would one of you care to share?"

"You're going to date Teyla." Rodney exulted in his own genius.

"I am not!" Ronon shot away from Teyla as if she'd burned him, squashing John into the arm of the couch.

"Huh? I don't get it. You're reacting as if I asked you to clean out a sump pump, not go out with an utterly stunning woman."

"Thank you Rodney," said Teyla. Her nose was twitching again.

"I'm sorry," said Ronon, "I guess that was a bit rude. The fact is I'm already dating someone."

"Who?" squawked John.

"You." The look Ronon turned on him clearly implied 'you idiot'.

"Oh," said John blushing a brilliant red as he slid down in his seat, hiding himself behind Ronon. Teyla was watching them with an 'aww look at the adorable puppies' expression on her face. Rodney sighed.

"Well, this is all very sweet," said Elizabeth. "But some of us have a business to run. So if we could get this settled I would appreciate it."

"I still don't understand what all the fuss is about," whined Rodney. "I'd kiss the feet of the person who set me up with someone like Miss Emmagan."

"John not one word," snapped Ronon.

"Oh all right," said John, sounding put upon, but wriggling so he curled more easily against Ronon's side.

"Please Rodney, call me Teyla."

"I'd be honored."

"And Ronon, John," Teyla continued, "Of course I understand that you are dating. But you cannot be open about this."

Ronon folded his arms and set his chin. Rodney winced because Ronon, while remaining utterly nonchalant, could turn into a completely immovable object over the strangest things. Rodney so did not want to go down in history as the agent who let his client become a test case for Equality Law. Not that it was really a case of 'letting' Ronon do anything.

"Now Ronon, you don't mind if I call you Ronon do you?" Elizabeth continued without waiting for a reply. "Good. Now Ronon, do you really want to make John responsible for ruining your career?"

"My choice," said Ronon.

Rodney was pleased to see however that John looked a little uneasy. "Of course it's your choice," John said, "but it wouldn't hurt to listen to Teyla, would it?"

Ronon's eyes narrowed, "Fine."

They both turned to look at Teyla, who smiled at them.

"I wouldn't want you to think this is altruism on my part. Dating such a major sports star would considerably increase my profile. It might even allow me to stop appearing on the tracks Rodney so strongly disapproves of."

"Yes, yes, exactly," said Rodney. "Which would be a service beyond compare to the benighted music industry in this dreadful country. Not that it deserves to be graced by a star of Miss," he smiled and corrected himself, "Teyla's quality."

Suddenly Ronon was laughing.

"What? What?" Rodney demanded, certain that Ronon was laughing at him, though he had no idea why.

John quickly placed his hand over Ronon's mouth. "Not one word, right Ronon."

Ronon rolled his eyes. Then he sucked one of John's fingers into his mouth. John gasped.

"Yes we'll do it," he said hurriedly, "take Teyla out to lunch and set something up for, oh god Ronon, tonight and call us with, oh, details."

"Wonderful," Elizabeth put on her sunglasses. "I'm glad the circus is over. Let's go." She strode from the room. Rodney offered Teyla his arm,

"Can I interest you in lunch with me?"

"I'd be delighted."

"I," Rodney glanced back at the two men on the couch and just as quickly fixed his eyes front. "Tell you what, let's get out of here, first."

"Good plan," said John, his habitual sarcasm fading into breathlessness.

Teyla giggled.


3. SCORCHING

Teyla Emmagan wowed diners at LA's premier jazz club by taking to the stage to perform a breath-takingly slow and sexy version of 'Mucho Mambo Sway'. Sadly her man of the moment Ronon Dex had cut out early in order to be up for training. Miss Emmagan was escorted home by Dex's publicist Rodney McKay, who also accompanied her on the piano. We say be careful Ronon, in this case it might not be the early bird that catches the worm.


Rodney stared at the sheepish pair.

"Seriously," he said. "You couldn't keep it your pants for one goddamn evening."

John twitched guiltily and ducked his head.

Rodney rounded on him. "I might have known it was your fault."

Ronon wrapped his arm around John's shoulders tugging him protectively close and growled,

"Shut up McKay."

Rodney ground his teeth. Why could the two of them not appreciate that some things were more important than their hormones.

"It is all right Rodney," said Teyla, resting one hand on his arm. Rodney shivered at the contact and had to remind himself why he was mad.

"It is not all right," he said, but his voice was weak and he knew it.

"It will be fine," soothed Teyla.


4. SOUNDS OF LOVE

Teyla Emmagan's intimate concert at the KitKat Club was disrupted by the noisy sounds of a couple getting, well, intimate. A backstage mike picked up the sounds of the indiscrete pair, broadcasting the sound to the whole club.


"Not one word," said Rodney. "No, seriously, do not say a word."


5. INDECENT PROPOSAL

Ronon Dex again appeared to ignore his lovely girlfriend Teyla Emmagan while the pair where out dancing in LA. Dex remained closeted with his surfing coach John Sheppard but it appears the big man was acting as an overgrown cupid. When the pair emerged Dex's agent Rodney McKay went down on one knee and begged for Sheppard to come back to him.

Sheppard's enthusiastic response bowled McKay over. Dex separated the two men, claiming things were about to become indecent. On asked if he was anti-gay, Dex replied, "No, I'm anti- people having sex on the floor in front of me."

He and Miss Emmagan bundled the pair into Dex's car and all four have holed up in Dex's mansion in exclusive Rodeo Drive.


"Honestly," said Rodney. "How has my life come to this?"

"Is it so very bad Rodney?" asked Teyla from the sun lounger beside him.

Rodney rolled his head so he could look at her beautiful, smiling face.

"I had to act like a love struck idiot because our two love struck idiots are completely incapable of keeping their eyes or hands off each other. I am the first straight man to ever come out of the closet. Radek Zelenka wants me to write an article on how to catch a stud because 'if you can manage it, anybody should be able to'. Samantha Carter rang me to say she knew it all along." Rodney gave a little huff of aggravation before admitting, "But no, it's not so very bad."

Because all the indignities in the world didn't amount to very much in the face of Teyla's affectionate grin.

"I could have done without the tongue in my ear though," he continued, "I don't know how Ronon stands it. It was like being mauled by a Labrador puppy."

"Do you really want to speculate on Ronon's preferences?"

"No," said Rodney quickly, because he really, really didn't. Besides he'd be much more pissed off if John had stuck his tongue in his mouth, and this way he got to tease John about his lousy kissing ability pretty much indefinitely.

Teyla laughed.

Rodney stretched out his arm and took her hand in his. Teyla spread her fingers, letting his settle between them. Sitting up, Rodney lifted their linked hands and pressed a kiss to her knuckles before settling back down to doze off listening to Ronon and John trying to drown each other in the pool.