The Start, by Moonloon. For the 'First Night' challenge

McKay/Sheppard preslash. Thanks to rivier for the beta.

The Start, by Moonloon

"Rodney, get some sleep." Weir's voice cut through the haze of Ancient Rodney was starting to think in. He looked up, then realised she was talking through his headset.

"But I think I'm really starting to understand..." Rodney winced at the whine in his voice.

"Now, Rodney." Weir had the 'I'm in charge, so do as you're told' tone in her voice.

Reluctantly, he pulled himself away from what was probably a map of active stargates and rummaged through his pockets for the piece of paper that had his room assignment. He rubbed his eyes, it said '27' in Dumais's swirly script, which was... Rodney turned around and saw 25-39 chalked on the wall with an arrow pointing into darkness.

He'd tripped over two Athosian children and that tiny Czech whose name he never remembered before he found room 27. The children were playing some variation of hide and seek, which seemed to consist of lying on the floor and wriggling silently in and out of the rooms assigned to the Athosians, and Dr... whoever had apparently given up on trying to find his own room and was curled protectively around an Ancient device that was making a quiet 'blipblipblip' noise.

Room 27 was in a nice quiet corner, and Rodney stumbled thankfully toward the bed, dimly visible in the moonlight. He kicked off his shoes, tossed his jacket on the floor, and got as far as unzipping his pants before murmuring 'fuck it' and collapsing on the bed.

The blankets heaved under him. "Snuh... whu?"

Rodney scrambled to the side. "What the Hell?" Major Sheppard's hair appeared from under the blankets, looking like porcupine roadkill.

"I appreciate the offer, Dr McKay, but I'm really far too tired."

Rodney blinked, then pulled himself together. "I'm not making a pass at you, you're in my bed!" Rodney said, the last few words coming out squeakier than he'd intended.

"Um, no." Rodney could just make out Sheppard's expression, which was a mix of confusion and amusement. "You're in my bed." Sheppard reached out and snagged a piece of paper from the nightstand. "See."

Rodney squinted at the paper, unable to read it in the dim light. Sheppard waved his hand over a panel above the end of the bed and it started to glow gently. The paper had '21' written in familiar handwriting.

Rodney glared. "This is room 27."

"Yep, and that says '27'."

Rodney felt like banging his head on something. "Didn't you ever learn cursive handwriting? That's not a '7', it's a European '1'. Dumais gave out the room assignments, her sevens have a line through them." Rodney waved his own slip of paper under Sheppard's nose.

"Oh, right. Sorry." Sheppard shrugged and burrowed back under the blankets.

"Get out of my bed, Major."

The blankets sighed, and Sheppard peered out. "I have an idea: why don't you take room 21, and I'll stay here?"

"Because we were only allowed one personal item, and my espresso machine didn't make the cut. I specifically asked for a room that faced the sunrise, so I'd wake up. I have important things to do!" That hadn't sounded quite so childish in his head.

"And I guess 21 faces the wrong way?" Sheppard sounded like he was laughing, the annoying bastard.

"Yes, it does. It's on the other side of the control tower."

"I'm not getting up. I'm warm and comfortable here. We can sort it out tomorrow, which means you can either find somewhere else to sleep, or we can share."

Share? Uh oh. Rodney's libido popped up to remind him that Major Sheppard was hot, and had 'appreciated the offer' when he thought Rodney was making a pass at him. "Share? With you? Don't be ridiculous."

"Suit yourself." Sheppard disappeared again.

Rodney sighed and sat up, noticing that the bed wasn't made with military-use blankets, but some sort of soft loose-woven material that must have come with the Athosians. It was probably very nice to sleep under. Rodney remembered the night before, it had been impossible to sleep wrapped in the durable wool/synthetic blend blankets and low thread-count sheets at the SGC.

Rodney stuffed his libido back into its box, refastened his pants and slid under the blankets.

"Thought so."

"Shut up, Major."