Work Text:
Rodney McKay looked up from the ebook too small for his large hands to scowl at the man sharing the back of the limo with him. The man and the dog. The man, one John Sheppard, animal trainer extraordinaire was slouched bonelessly, dark shades pulled low, seemingly oblivious to anything outside his own personal space. The dog, Ford, Atlantis Studio's newest movie star, was sprawled out on his back, long tongue lolling from his mouth as Sheppard rubbed his belly with work roughened hands. It had been a long hot day, with the sun seeping through a deceptive summer haze to burn when you weren't paying attention. As a film Producer Rodney had worked with all kinds of actors, and really the pair had been an unexpected delight. They were smart, hard working, and infinitely photogenic, and Rodney couldn't figure out why it bothered him so much that they were breathing the air in the back of his limo. No that wasn't entirely true, he admitted with a sigh as he closed the ebook. The dog bothered him. Ford, in his canine bliss, getting tummy rubbed by hands Rodney could think of much better uses for. He took a sip of cool bottled water to chase away the tickle of embarrassment in the back of his throat. Jealous of a dog, huh, star or not, it was pretty silly. He turned his head to look out the window, they were at least ten minutes away from cast and crew trailer's, he should say something.
"So it seemed like today went well?" Sheppard broke the silence, his full mouth curved in the hint of a smile.
"Yeah, O'Neil says they'll probably be able to use 80 to 90 percent of what they shot today. He doubts they'll need to do any retakes. Your dog's damn good Sheppard. You should be pretty pleased. O'Neil isn't one to hand out praise easily and he's a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to a movie. Jackson is the same way."
Ford rolled over as if he knew he was topic of discussion, and after some of the things Rodney had seen him do that day, he wouldn't put it past the dog. Sheppard traced the sharp triangles of Fords ears with affection. "It's the breed. Blue Heeler's are known for their intelligence and desire to please their people. He's smarter than a lot of the humans I know. I'm just lucky he considers me his."
"Huh," was Rodney's less than eloquent response. He was really more of a cat person himself, but when Ford laid his head on Sheppard's thigh with a sigh like that was the best place in the world, and the man ran long fingers over the white stripe on his head, he could maybe see the appeal. "So Ford's your super star. What's the worst animal you've ever had to work with?"
Sheppard tapped his lips as he thought about it like it was a Mensa question. "I'd have to say it was a shark."
"You trained a shark!" Rodney yelped, "that's insane!"
"Well," Sheppard rubbed the back of his neck, "I'm not sure I really managed to train the thing. It was more of carrot and stick method. Or fish and stick. But hey the movie got made, and no one actually got hurt. And the surfing on location was totally wicked!" Rodney didn't know why he found the idea that Sheppard surfed even slightly surprising. He was sure the man probably had fast, wild, and dangerous tattooed somewhere on that lean body. He trained animals for a living, seriously. "What about you, worst Actor?"
"Oh that's easy, no contest, hands down," and he calmly gave a name that had Sheppard howling with laughter, curling over Ford to pat the dogs back.
Ford's tail thumped the seat. Sheppard righted himself as the car pulled to a stop outside their trailer. "Yeah, that's kind of how we feel. Ford was supposed to be in their last movie."
"There was supposed to be a dog in that movie?" Rodney asked as he eased across the seat, holding the door open for man and dog.
"There were supposed to be a lot of things in that last movie." Something in Sheppard's tone suggested that the movie hadn't been the only thing lacking, but it was hard to tell with his face lost in the shadow of the car.
"Well it sucked." Rodney imagined Ford's doggy woof was actually laughter as the dog bounded out before the man. Sheppard uncoiled himself from the limo's dark, and oh yeah, he was a little bit of alright. And he smelled good too, even at the end of the mad day he'd had, clean sweat mixed with his aftershave, and whatever NASA antigrav concoction let his hair do that. Rodney had to remind himself to take a polite step back. And almost stepped on Ford crowding him from behind. He only had a second to be annoyed because then Sheppard was right there standing in the close space of the open door, calling his dog to heal with a hand gesture. "Why aren't you an actor," Rodney breathed into the small distance between them?
Sheppard chuckled, "I'm horrible with lines, " Cuz that didn't sound like one? "I'm even worse with people." Sheppard stepped back letting him close the limo door. "I tried acting once, but movies go better if I stay off camera. So I train dangerous animals and occasionally blow things up." Ford leaned against his leg and he took a step closer to Rodney without seeming to realize it.
Rodney was nodding his head in agreement, he produced because he could organize the crap out of anything, even an Atlantis movie, and well, his face not exactly made for the big screen. "Wait, did you say blow things up?!"
Sheppard laughed in delight at the look of utter shock on Rodney's face. "Pyrotechnics McKay, special effects. It's a hobby of mine. I find it relaxing."
"You would." Ford's silky head slipped in under his hand and he rubbed fingers along the intelligent points of his ears, unconsciously leaning into the dog and towards to man to counterbalance the firm weight pressing against his thigh. Rodney isn't sure how much time they loose, but really it doesn't matter, they're finished for the day and John Sheppard didn't seem to be having any problem finding words.
"Ford! Jeez," Sheppard squawked as the dog's last herding shove had him teetering into McKay's broad chest. He caught himself, rough hands against time smoothed leather, his flushed face reflected in a pair of amused blue eyes. He ducked his head, all too aware of the steadying hands on his hips, and the blush scalding its way up the back of his neck and flaming his ears. Ford sat at his feet grinning up at him happily. There were times when he was sorely tempted to kick the dog. "Sorry McKay," he mumbled. "I know he's a dog, but he's still a crazy movie star..."
"I think you mean crazy like a fox." McKay was laughing, those big warm hands still on John's hips. He looked down at Ford while he spoke and damn if the cheeky little shit didn't wink. "Or maybe smarter than your average bear?" Both John and Ford groaned, the dog laying down so he could cover his head with his paws, the man letting his forehead fall against a leather clad shoulder. He wasn't great with words, or at least getting the right ones to come out of his mouth at appropriate times. But body language he knew, dogs, tigers, people, didn't matter, if they were silent he could read them like a book. Like that big warm hand still gripping his hip, or the one making a tentative trail up the sway of his spine. Or the broad mouth that breathed something incoherent into the wild spikes of his hair. Yeah those things he understood, without his dog to translate, thank you very much. John reached up to tilt the dark shades he wore into his hair. He smiled and all that nervous energy under his hands just stilled like McKay was some wild animal he was hoping to tame. This was more than a little crazy, he was sure they both had to feel it, but man if it wasn't a picture perfect day for a movie kiss.