Secret Santa: Be Careful What You Wish For; McKay/ Zelenka

[rosiedoes]

Title: Be Careful What You Wish For
Pairing: Rodney/Radek, if you want it to be.
Rating: PG
Recipient: _phaedra_
Spoilers: None, really. Set relatively early in season one, because of the premise.
Summary: Atlantis' personnel do a Secret Santa of their own.
Notes: Eternal thanks to shiny_starlight, darkmoon711 and anjak_j all of whom coped with my hysteria about needing to get this finished admirably.

I'd also like to say thanks to everyone who left comments on the sga_santa comm - I'm glad you liked it! <3



Be Careful What You Wish For


The refectory was a little over-crowded with so many of the city's personnel crammed into it all at once. They clustered in small groups, the marines in smug little squads muttering to each other about the inevitably perverse requests in their submissions; while the scientists gave twitchy little smiles at those around them, praying their request for 'someone to write up my reports for a month' wasn't picked out by someone who had any idea what 'OORAH!' meant.

Secret Santa.

It was supposed to be a 'bonding' game, seeing as they'd been there for a few months already, and yet half of them couldn't tell you the name of the guy two doors down, unless they worked in the same lab, or were on the same team. But the last time Rodney had played Secret Santa he was in college; he still had the ball-gag somewhere... He'd rather been put off since then, and the only reason he'd agreed to take part at all was that Elizabeth had given him the Look that always made him shrivel with fear and told him he could ask for anything he wanted.

Within legal reason.

Of course – as head of the science team – he had to be seen to set an example for his staff, so he had thought long and hard and eventually submitted his request on the allocated laptop in the corner of the refectory and carefully noted his ID code. And then he had waited for this moment with reluctant but burgeoning anticipation. He was practically bouncing on his toes until Radek elbowed him and muttered something that was either a slight to his decorum or indecipherable Czech.

Elizabeth stood primly beside Grodin, whose smirk almost made Rodney wonder if the 'randomiser' was a little less random than was claimed, and read from the screen as each request was drawn.

"Dr. McNab – for ID 226: 'coffee wake up calls every day for a month'."

Rodney snorted. How tame.

"Lt. Miller – for ID 181: 'someone to collect and download as many music files as possible on to my personal laptop'.

"Cpl. Nixon – for ID 092: 'fresh flowers for my lab, every week for two months'."

Oh, how typical. As if it wasn't bad enough being so near to the botanists, now there were going to be flowers everywhere!

"Dr. Zelenka – for ID 238: 'a slave for a week. A whole week. 24/7. And no shirking. Or talking. Because if I have to listen to someone's snivelling for a week it will ruin my Christmas. Not that I expect Christmas to be 'fun'. On the contrary: by default, Christmas is a devastating waste of time, money and fir trees'."

There was a moment of obliviousness before Rodney realised what she had just said: Zelenka! He'd actually scored Zelenka! Oh, this was priceless. He'd been expecting some illiterate grunt he could send for food and coffee and play his packhorse and get him food – but this! Oh, this was going to be good.

He hadn't realised he was doing a small happy dance until Elizabeth quirked an eyebrow at him across the room. Rodney was suddenly uncomfortably aware that, in fact, all eyes were on him. All eyes except Zelenka's, which were scrunched shut as he gestured violent to himself and rabbited away in his native tongue.

Weir continued, smirking, "Dr. McKay – for ID 012: 'whatever I choose'."

Rodney blinked. He'd actually forgotten the part where he had to do a favour in return. Suddenly, he didn't feel quite so smug. "Wait! Wait wait wait – that can't be legitimate. That – that's non-specific! There's no time frame, no outline – "

"The rules didn't require any," Peter reminded him, a look of absolute relish on his face. Oh sure – he'd be loving this. Only – what if it was his?! Oh no. Oh, this was terrible. This was the worst case scenario amplified. It'd be just like Grodin to manipulate a loophole like that. Perfect! Just. Damn. Perfect.

Abruptly realising he had better things to be doing and more important places to be, Rodney made a rather hasty exit.



"Your 'slave'," Radek announced dourly, appearing in Rodney's lab as he prodded at his computer early on Christmas morning. Everyone else was enjoying a lie-in and he had been making the most of the quiet until Radek had arrived.

"Coffee."

"Pardon?"

"Coffee!" Rodney ordered, clicking his fingers, "Chop chop."

"Oh, yes –'Good morning, Radek, and very merry Christmas to you. Good morning, Rodney – can I get you anything? How about a nice cup coffee perhaps? If you're not too busy, you know – being the only one who bothers to stay on-world at all. For you, Rodney? Is pleasure'."

"When you've finished talking to yourself, Radek: COFFEE."

In his peripheral vision, he saw the other man make what he suspected was an extremely offensive gesture before turning on his heel and stalking off.

"AND A MUFFIN! ZELENKA? DID YOU HEAR, THAT? A MUFFIN!"

There was a short burst of something indecipherable and Radek's head peered back round the door frame with a small, false smile, "I get you two."



The first three hours were more fun than Rodney had ever had with his trousers on. He had become suddenly and inexplicably 'clumsy', dropping just about anything unbreakable just to keep Radek on the run around, picking them up. That was, until Zelenka made a noise like a frying pan spitting, collected anything small and unbreakable and put them in a little plastic tray so they couldn't just roll off the desk.

"So, did you identify this?" he asked, picking up what looked like a really large pin with a glowing sphere at the head, and turning it over in his hands.

"Rectal thermometer," Rodney lied, just to see his face.

Zelenka simply looked at him, nonplussed, and put the object back into the tray, "Then I do not need to tell you where to stick it?"

"Very funny. How about you do something useful instead of making a mess of my lab, for a change?"

"Fine. Fine – you want coffee? Again? Food... lobotomy, perhaps?"

Thinking for a moment, a devious grin spread across Rodney's face. "Well, I'm feeling a little peckish – "

"Okay. I'll get you some food."

"Oh no. No, you're taking me to the refectory."

"You can't go by yourself?"

"Oh, I could – only," Rodney gave a theatrical yawn, "I'm feeling a little tired to walk all that way."

Radek's arms folded automatically over his chest. "I will not carry you."

"The rules clearly state that I can request 'anything within legal reason'."

"Or what? How you think I carry oaf like you all the way to the refectory?"

"Fine." Rodney shrugged, tilting his chin up just a little. "Under the circumstances, I'd settle for a wheelchair."



Carson had been sympathetic to Radek's plight when he arrived at the infirmary, and handed him a wheelchair without argument, a fact that Rodney was rather disappointed about. He'd hoped it would have involved much for begging on Zelenka's part, but at the end of the day, at least twelve people saw then en route to food and that was satisfying in itself.

Settled in the middle of the room, rich dessert of some indefinable but sickly substance in hand and Zelenka's hands working the kinks from his shoulders, Rodney contemplated that maybe karma finally had caught up with him. Three and a half decades of under-appreciation, social rejection and misunderstanding later, Rodney McKay was finally getting some of the good stuff and all of the expedition was going to hear about it. Sadly, it wasn't quite as much of the 'good stuff' as he'd have liked, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. This was just about as close as he was going to get to what he really wanted, so he wasn't going to waste it.

"McKay," the Czech's voice said in a suspiciously sing-song tone, spine-tinglingly close to his ear as a small group of marines across the room collapsed laughing, "I really hope you are enjoying yourself."

"Yes, I rather am, actually. Now if you could – hmph – just to the left. Aaah yes."

Over where the marines were sitting, two of them were busy slapping Parker on the back as he choked on his lunch. The only response from Zelenka was a low sound in his throat and a slightly firmer dig in Rodney's shoulder.

"Who got your task, anyway?" Rodney asked around a mouthful of pudding, suddenly curious. "What did you ask for? Thinking about it – no one's called in mine yet. 'Whatever I choose' – hah. How ridiculous is that, anyway? It's the biggest cop out imaginable!"

"Hmmm," Zelenka replied, manipulating his shoulders a little more firmly still, "If you ask me, not that I would expect you to ask me, Rodney - is the best thing to ask for."

"Oh, really? And why's that? Because you'd wait and see how hot the person who got it was, hm? Please! If that was a case, they'd have called me on it already."

"Is so?" Radek asked levelly. "Well, we shall see."


After that, things began to change. At dinner time, Radek obediently collected a tray and diced Rodney's food for him. When he decided to turn in for the night, Radek carefully folded down his blankets and switched off his light, offering to sing him a little Czech lullaby to send him off. In the morning, when Rodney woke up, there was a mug of coffee and a muffin on his beside cabinet. In the lab, another cup awaited him, along with Radek, wearing what looked suspiciously like an apron and a self-satisfied little smile.

"Good morning, Rodney. I hope you slept well, how shall we start today?"

Narrowing his eyes, suspiciously, Rodney picked up the nearest gadget and shoved it into Radek's hands. "You can start by finding out what that does."

Zelenka shrugged and poked at a button and the innocuous little box in his hand fired out a pellet the size of a marble, which smacked Rodney squarely between the eyebrows. Zelenka's lips quirked, but he didn't even laugh as he carted Rodney off to Carson. There was no complaint as he sat beside Rodney for the rest of the day, dabbing the bruise with an icepack whenever he complained, and feeding him Tylenol every few hours.

He seemed to be taking this remarkably well. But, Rodney thought as the Czech placed a bowl of soup in front of him and tucked a serviette into his collar, maybe he was simply enjoying it as much as Rodney himself was. Who wouldn't appreciate the chance to spend all this time with the greatest mind in two galaxies?

Over the next few days, he grew rather used to having Radek at his beck and call, in the same way they'd all grown used to seeing people carrying out bizarre feats and walking around with bunches of flowers or other people's coffee mugs. There was nothing quite like a foot rub over the table during a meeting, or someone to write up his findings for him – even with side-notes in Czech, that may or may not have been insults to his masculinity. He rather enjoyed waking up to coffee and a muffin on his beside table and knowing that Zelenka had taken his time to get up early and walk all the way to the refectory and back again for him. Admittedly, he probably wouldn't have done it if he wasn't ordered to, but it made Rodney feel just a little bit more appreciated than he usually did.

Working closely with Radek on the central functions of the city meant they spent a lot of time together anyway, but Rodney was quite sure Radek was beginning to enjoy spending 95% of his time with him. Maybe it was the fact he kept catching him, eyebrow quirked and mouth hitched up at the corner, while Rodney expounded his wisdom; or the indulgent smile he gave every time Rodney snapped his fingers and asked for Radek to hand him something. He'd mostly stopped arguing, and he almost seemed eager to help.

Rodney was even more disappointed than he'd expected to be, when the last day of the task drew round. He dressed in his nicely laundered and folded uniform and headed down to his lab for a hard day's work attempting to increase the efficiency of the city's transporters. With so many people using them every day, they were putting pressure on the generators and it had been decided that improving their power usage was worth looking into. As the task of zipping around in transporters was going to be an arduous task, Rodney had elected Radek to be their bell boy. It was to be his last task of the game and Rodney had decided to let him off lightly.

"Well, a few more hours and then you'll be a free man, again," he said, unscrewing a panel in the wall and pulling out the conduits inside. "Excited?"

"No, Rodney – am heart broken at prospect of not being your servant all the time. I think, when this day ends, I will ask Carson for some arsenic."

"Well, wouldn't that be a great loss?"

Radek gave a short chuckle, pulling a small crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, "On other hand, all the demeaning tasks you ask of me – all the time I have to spend with you – maybe it is not over yet."

"Really? How do you work that out? Pass me that laptop. Quickly!"

"This, I think, is yours," Radek beamed triumphantly, ignoring the request and pressing the note into his hand, instead. "Happy New Year, Rodney. We start as I mean to go on, yes?"

Rodney's mouth fell open as he read the scrawl on the little slip of paper – suddenly it all feel squarely into place.

#012 – 'Whatever I choose'.